The message is as follows:
This is urgent. Assuming you didn't get fed to spiders, I must see you. My office, tomorrow morning. New suspect has been named as possible killer of King Eodred; allegedly poisoned by artist Trinia Sabor.
Confession extracted from guard who witnessed act. Subsequently died suspiciously. This stinks like troglodyte dung.
Can't give more info now, missive might be intercepted. Require help, excellent reward.
-Kroft
Searok stands on his tip-toes to read over Makall's shoulder. Whatta ye thing she needs us fer? Sounds like a job fer the city guard.
Leaning over and reading the note and groaning loudly while letting her forehead fall on Makall's shoulder. Voice slightly muffled, "I think she thinks we work for her now."
”I work for the Sting, although, my services get sublet on occasion.”
I don't care who I work for as long as I get paid! Searok states matter-of-factually, although he did enjoy the legitimacy of working for the crown.
"Let's rest up and find out what this all means tomorrow."
The night passes uneventfully. A couple of times you hear the clank of troops of armored guards marching up the street, trying to deal with the unrest that has again flared up in response to these latest rumors. But as Zellara's house looks empty and abandoned without her magic to make it appear otherwise, no one considers it worth bothering with.
Pulling her head off Makall's shoulder, "Yeah, sleep first then we can deal with that. Cause it didn't sound like a request."
Searok is actually disappointed that ghost lady did not show up. He eats his breakfast while he waits for the others to awake-he learned early on that you didn't sleep late-Lamm didn't allow it and punished those that did. He is ready to go see what exactly Kroft wanted them to do about the assassin.
”A night’s rest was just the thing.”
Throughout the night Makall slept as best as he could. His years of finding comfort in shiver still caused him to wake up in the middle of night. Looking about he watched as Emma slept with a mote of concern on her brow. He worried for her she had taken more on than she clearly had expected. His thoughts were soon interrupted as Searok grumbled something in his sleep. 'Is this dwarf ever at peace?'
Turning back to Emma he smiled then he caught Shaeda's small form close by resting soundly unbothered by the events that had found them all here.
'I wish I could find sleep like that.' Even with the death of the Old Man his worries had not been lifted.
Tomorrow morning would bring new enemies likely. He didn't care truth be told. If it meant being able to aid those hurt or ruined by The Old Man than it was justified. He paused. 'Or is this bigger?' As he pondered this he soon found himself asleep impatiently awaiting for morning to come.
It's foggy the next morning, which muffles the noise of the city and makes things seem calmer than they are. There seem to be a lot of people on the streets, not exactly causing trouble, but you do see a few peering in windows and snooping through alleyways. Doing much the same are the city guard who seem to be out in great numbers, either to search for the rumored killer, or to prevent further riots.
Some of them watch you with suspicion as you proceed to the citadel, as they likely would any group of armed civilians they don't know. One guard even steps forward to get a good look at Emma before returning to his colleagues shaking his head.
At the Citadel, you are waved in without delay and find Cressida behind her desk, as if she hasn't moved since you last saw her. The presence of dark circles under her eyes and several empty plates scattered around the desk suggest she hasn't. As you enter, she's staring into space while stirring spoonful after spoonful of sugar into a mug of coffee. You can't tell whether she's doing it on purpose or is too distracted to realize.
She notices your party and mutters a word of thanks to The Inheritor under her breath. "I was afraid you wouldn't come. A lot of people are looking for a good opportunity to leave the city, and a few of my officers pointed out that I'd just handed you enough money to make it a thousand miles from here and pointed you toward the docks. Vencarlo trusted you though, and he's never steered me wrong before. And here you are, all in one piece no less. Let me get us some privacy."
She gets up to shut the door, finally ceasing to stir her coffee. The spoon remains standing upright in the mug, as if embedded in cement. "How did things go at Eel's End?"
The last one to wake up and glare at the ground. Glancing around at the motley crew she ended up with. How is this my life? Getting up and stretching, "Alright I guess on to the next problem."
Constantly shifting her gaze back and forth while they head to their early meeting. Stomach rolling and every path could lead a different way but she can't turn from the part they are on. Guess i just gotta hope that he is their later. Keeping her head up and refusing to look away from any of the guards that seem to distrust them.
Offering a grin in response for the given trust, "Well enough. We have some letters that should be helpful. They are a horrible read."
Cressida takes the letters and looks them over in fascination. "I knew that rat Devargo must have something on him, but I thought it was likely financial. No wonder Amprei was willing to pay to keep this quiet, angering the wrong people in Egorian can end with nothing found of you but a whiff of brimstone if you're unlucky. I think it's safe to say that the ambassador will be abandoning his designs on Korvosa very soon. Only good news I've had all day. Thank you for your service to the city, I think under the circumstances I can arrange for an extra hundred and fifty sails for each of you."
"I know I'm tempting fate by doing this, but I have another job for you. It feels wrong to me that I should trust freelancers over my own men, but there are...extenuating circumstances. If you'll hear me out I will explain why the need for secrecy, but if this makes you uncomfortable and you'd rather leave, I understand."
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Searok pipes up, Lady, ye can't make me uncomfortable unless ye take off yer clothes! he says without further explanation and with a glare at Shaeda.
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Shaeda rolls her eyes, ”puhleeze, yer words can say what he wish, but der ain’t no denying your body was comfortable with the thing. Now hush yer mout, and stop yapping about it, ‘twas naught but nudity and sex you big sissy.”
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"Sounds like I missed quite a story. Promise never to tell it to me."
Field Marshal Kroft tries to take a sip of her coffee, then holds the mug upside down and shakes it for a second before tossing it in the trash.
"Here's the situation. The murderer of King Eodred has been named as one Trinia Sabor, an artist who visited Castle Korvosa several times to paint a portrait of the king not a month before his death. A castle guard has confessed that on her final visit he witnessed Trinia slip a powder into the king's tea, but kept quiet due to his attraction to the artist. I and a few other senior officers were present when the guard repeated this confession. We were promised that we would be allowed to question him ourselves at a later date. He allegedly leaped from a tower that night."
"Queen Ileosa could have quietly had this Trinia Sabor arrested at any time, yet the way in which she revealed the information to the city seems likely to cause more unrest. With the city the way it is, the girl doesn’t stand a chance of a fair trial. They’ll lynch her the moment they catch her. Even if she did kill the king, mob justice isn’t the way. Worse, if she’s innocent, the real killer—if indeed the king was murdered at all in the first place—can use this distraction to throw us off the trail forever."
"Before Trinia is captured and executed, I need to be absolutely sure she’s guilty. And that means we need to catch her before someone else does. I’ve managed to determine her last known address—a flat in Midland at 42 Moon Street—but soon, so will the rest of the Guard, and the mob itself, for that matter. These rumors have riled up the locals something fierce, and there’s even bands of Hellknights of the Order of the Nail patrolling the streets looking for her. On top of all this, word is that Queen Ileosa’s not satisfied with what the Korvosan Guard’s been doing to address the situation, and that she’s preparing to disband the Sable Company and reveal a newly founded order of specialized guards to help bring order to the city. For now, I’ve still got a fair number of Korvosan Guards who are loyal to me, but the problem is that I’ve got them at work keeping things from getting any worse—and if I were to send them into Midland, they’d trigger a riot."
"I’m sure you can see where this is going. I need you to get into Midland, find Trinia, and bring her back to me so we can deliver her, safe and sound, to somewhere she can be interrogated—preferably with magic, so we can be absolutely sure about her role in Eodred II’s death. Get in there, catch her, and get out without letting the mob or the Hellknights or the queen’s guards get their hands on her. I’ll have loyal agents and officers nearby to take her into custody. If you can get her to one of them, we’ll be in the clear. Any questions?"
Sighing at Searok and Sheada. Time and place. Happily taking the coin. A little closer now.
"Well we certainly cannot promise to succeed. And we would be doing this as simple commoners with no legal standing. So I do have a few questions and requests. Is there a way we can have proof that we have your backing encase we run into any of the Guard or the Hellknights?"
"Also since the grieving Queen wants that woman dead and you are wanting us to potentially interfere. Which could put us in direct conflict with the crown what kind of assurances can we have that if the Queen has us arrested that you will do whatever it takes to get us out of prison?"
"Do you by chance have any healing potions encase we get caught in a mob or something? I am not a trained healer and this sounds like something that does not have the time for waiting to find a temple."
"Oh would you by chance have something we could use to disguise her? Might make moving though the city a little easier?"
"Oh and are we on payroll at this point?" A smirk crawls across her face at this question.
Shaeda stands with her arms crossed, nodding as Emma asks each of her questions and makes each of her points.
Cressida answers each query in turn.
"I've specifically avoided sending the guard into the area so that I have plausible deniability. The men I trust, I don't want to get in to trouble if they are forced to look the other way. And the men I don't, I don't want to find her at all. So I haven't shared her probable location with any of them yet. Goodness knows I've got a hundred other legitimate things to keep them busy. As for the Hellknights, if you want to get hassled by them you'd better be willing to make an appointment three weeks in advance. A few of them barged in here demanding we provide any leads. Lucky for us we've had hundreds of "sightings", from every drunk or shiver-head hoping to get a few coppers for information. I handed over the pile happily, and with any luck they'll run themselves ragged chasing wild geese. Matter of principle, never liked the way Hellknights think they have jurisdiction wherever they tread."
"I don't see us as acting against the queen at all. I'm certain a fair trial is what's truly best, for her and Korvosa. If Sabor is guilty, proving it will quash the rumors Queen Ileosa faces once and for all. If she is innocent, this will prevent the real killer from getting off. The suspect being torn apart by an angry mob will solve nothing, and a week from now people will be muttering that the queen did it again. As for your protection, doing things this way guarantees you the greatest possible safety; you are ordinary concerned citizens who found the suspect, handed her over to the city guard, and collected a reward, just like a thousand other people are hoping to do. Totally innocent, how could you have possibly known what the guard would do next?"
"We're stretched rather thin on resources, and I can't just dole out what little we have available to freelancers when there are guards coming back from patrol injured every day. Luckily, senior officers like me are always kitted out with a couple of emergency potions, and from the look of things I'm stuck here for a while, so they aren't doing much good on my belt."
She hands over two potions of Cure Light Wounds and one of Shield of Faith.
"Wish I had some magic for that, but it would be considered specialist equipment, and I'd need to requisition it. We don't have the time for that, and I'd hate to leave any sort of paper trail. A disguise kit and a cloak is the best I can do. Fortunately, no images of Trinia seem to be circulating, just descriptions, so a wig and change of complexion might well be enough."
"You might as well be at this point, but the fact that you're not is exactly what's keeping us safe. Again, concerned citizens, reward. Speaking of which: 1000 sails if you can deliver the suspect safely. Count yourselves lucky you aren't officially working for me, I don't officially pay nearly that well, and never officially say please."
Shaeda nods her assent to Emma.
Searok mind drifts during the negotiations as he envisions himself and the others bringing the killer to justice and maybe being knighted by the grateful Queen.
1) "So if they decide to come after us, which we would try to avoid them, there would be nothing you could do?"
2) Really "I suppose we would have to hope that is what happens."
3) Setting the potions out on the table, "Well anything helps."
4) "That's all I really wanted."
5) "Meant that as a joke."
Looking at her companions, "I don't speak for all of us. Is this something you all are wanting to get tangled up in?"
1) "I wouldn't say that. The Hellknights are not the law in Korvosa. Their presence in the city is tolerated only so long as they cooperate with the proper authorities. If they did arrest you (an unlikely event), I would simply demand that you be placed in my custody. I can't imagine they would jeopardize a relatively good relationship with the city by refusing that request. Unless you did something unbelievably stupid like stab one of them, in which case I assume you wouldn't have the opportunity to be placed in anyone's custody, save perhaps Pharasma's. But I'll say this for the sons of stirges, they do follow the letter of the law, so they won't seek out trouble."
2) "If there are consequences, they will fall on me. If all goes well, I'll be able to report to the castle either that the killer is found, or that we prevented a conspiracy by the guilty party to frame someone, which may lead us to the true culprit if we can find someone with a grudge against Sabor. Either way, it should be good news."
5) "Sorry, bit tired, went over my head. Humor among the police tends to be either so bleak and cynical that cult of Groetus tells us to lighten up, or so immature that goblins find it embarrassing."
Searok also nods. Well I wouldn't stab one of 'em, but I might punch 'em in the nose!
1) "Good to know. I have always striven to avoid them and I will continue with that then."
2) "I certainly hope so."
3) "Sorry it might have been in bad form."
Smiling, "Ok. Well I guess we should get to work then."
Cressida wishes you luck, and you head off to The Shingles. This is a densely built, poor part of the city. Sunlight is a rarity at ground level; above, jury-rigged catwalks, overhanging roofs, lines of laundry, and homemade bridges of rope and boards create a cluttered tangle, a multi-level mess of gutters, upper floors, and rooftops. It's possible the city's riots came through here, but hard to tell; the neighborhood looks like it was a complete shambles to begin with.
The atmosphere is not welcoming to armed strangers in any case; people peer suspiciously at you and windows and shutters close as you pass. A group of children freeze in their game of hopscotch to watch. An old woman smoking a pipe on a stoop crosses her arms across her chest, likely to draw attention to the breadknife she is holding. A violet-haired gnome stumbles out of a doorway drinking a beer, spots you, and grips the bottle tightly.
You have arrived at your destination, which Cressida wrote down and made you memorize before burning it, so that neither you nor she would be found with it on you. 42 Moon Street, last known address of artist and accused murderer Trinia Sabor.
Holding out the three vials, "Who wants these? Searok you are kind of our front-liner."
---
Shifting her weapons around so that her whip is coiled around her waist under the scarf that is tied around her waist and trying to keep her rapier out of sight with her cloak.
Dancing to a song in her mind as she moves though the city. Meeting any stares with a smile and those that glare at her also get a wave.
Happily bouncing up to the door and knocking. "Hey I am looking for a painter and I have coin."
Shaeda does her best to look small, unimposing, and non dangerous, which seems easy for a girl her size.
The door opens at Emma's knock, not because anyone opened it, but because it is in poor repair and looks like it could fall of its hinges with a strong push. The house beyond might have been quite nice decades ago, but now it appears to have been converted into a dozen or so single-room flats across three floors. Crude walls of plywood divide them, and thin doors that are more like suggestions than barriers.
Most of the walls have been painted, some quite skillfully. You also hear music through the thin walls; someone is playing a cello within one flat, while a slightly off-key Chellish opera can be heard from another. Artists often live together, and can rarely afford grand accommodations.
Behind you, a sudden loud crash. The gnome has thrown his beer bottle into a metal trash pail, as loudly as possible. A warning, perhaps?
"Who wants these? Searok you are kind of our front-liner."
Sure! I'll take 'em if no one else wants 'em!
Searok stands at the ready, but let's Emma do her 'talk'. He is ready to burst through any of the barriers if need be.
Looking back at the gnome and sticking out her tongue before wandering inside.
On the third floor you find a door that appears different than the others. The name on it has been freshly painted over. It looks like it once had a border around it, but this too has been recently glopped over with paint, making the door look suspiciously mundane.
Smiling and stepping close to the door. Gotta be the right one. Poor girl. Kknocking quietly, "Hey I'm looking for a painter and I was told to come here. Anybody home?"
The door has no lock (like most of the rooms here, it was subdivided using scavenged materials), and would have swung open at your knock if not for something set against the other side, holding it shut. There is no response.
Let me know if you want me to break it open. Searok whispers.
Shaking her head, "Not yet."
Pressing the side of her face against the door, "Miss, please open the door. I came a long way to get here."
Emma is less than convincing today.
Shaeda bangs on the door, ”look the lady said to open it; she said it nicely, and she meant it nicely. If you make us open it not-nicely, then we’ll mean it not-nicely!”
No response, though you think you can hear a scraping noise from somewhere within the room.
Stepping back and looking at Searok, "Try to not break the door."
Searok raps on the door, trying to be gentle.
The door gives way, having been loosely blocked by a chair piled with painting supplies.
This one-room flat combines all the amenities of a bedroom, a kitchen, and an art studio, leaving little space for much else. A stack of cheese and bread sits on the counter next to several full waterskins, while the easel in the opposite corner holds a half-completed painting of an imp and a house drake fighting atop a church steeple. A single window looks out over the tangled rooftops of the city; just under it sits a low bed.
Trinia Sabor lies on the bed, looking just as she was described to you; a slim and attractive girl of 20 with strawberry blonde hair in a short, boyish cut. Despite the clatter of the makeshift barricade collapsing, she does not stir.
Makall moves past the others and rushes to Trivia intending why she has not stirred.
As Makall reaches out to check on Trinia's condition his hand passes right through her, revealing the figure on the bed to be a mere illusion.