Alyssa attempts to read the crowd, looking for anyone who seems particularly uncomfortable or jumpy, but something seems to be distracting her.
Telesan waves farewell to the police and heads back into the crowd. He sticks close to Alyssia as the two work their way through the throng of people. A group of local youths catch his eye. They look bored and Telesan sees an opportunity. He speaks to the kids and asks them to keep their eyes open, making them 'Special Deputy R.H.C Watchers' for the event. The group seems excited at the idea and Telesan smiles at their enthusiasm.
Having got a feel for the crowd, Vivian starts to spot potential threats and points them out to her pistol-wielding buddy.
Nishoh goes over to the drunk man and squats down next to him. "Hey there buddy, how ya doin'?"
"Maybe. You're a docker, right?" Nishoh sits down next to him. "Been hard recently, lot of b~**$@+@ if you ask me."
"Preach it." Nishoh rubs at his scraggly beard. "Ya, I might be up for that. But I've never done anything like that before so I might just follow you. What were you planning on doing?"
Fortinbras walks the crowd. He processes persons of interest while pretending to be annoyed with all the security procedures and the work they make for him, then seeing how the persons of interest react. He uses more slang and informal sentence construction with those that seem more blue-collar, and he uses his normal, more educated diction with those that seem more white-collar.
Therie walks through the crowd, still totally at a loss on how to help. She decides the best course is probably to sit back and watch her far more manipulative compatriots do their thing, and be ready in case backup is required.
Therie, on the other hand, notices something more sinister. A thuggish-looking docker stands glowering at a young girl struggling through the Risuran anthem with a lisp. He is guarded, crossing his muscled and tattooed arms across his chest, but something glints in his palm... it looks like brass knuckles.
Walking the crowd with Telesan, Alyssia keeps an eye on her fellow constables, watching the people they seem to be picking out. The constant movement of the crowd proves to be a bit too disorienting for her.
Nishoh gives the man a pat on the back, then stands and goes to Vivian. "I don't think he's a threat, just brooding."
"You handled him well. I'm glad you are with me, Nishoh. I don't like confrontation."
Forty gives the man a cockeyed smile and moves in closer. He maintains the lower class accent he has been affecting around this section of the crowd, and he tries to throw in a bit of working-class swagger as well. He lowers his voice as he speaks. "That sounds mighty interestin' there. 'ows a bloke to help?"
After speaking with some children and scanning the crowd briefly with Jesselle, Leon continues to canvas, looking specifically for anyone he knows from his years on the street--those who've spoken dissenting opinions, dangerous ideas, and anger against the government.
Hearing from the children that there's some suspicious activity, Leon turns to Jesselle. "Care to check it out, Miss Wesmere?" He quickly finds a spot where he can view the possible troublemakers and keep tabs on things.
"TEN MINUTES! Ten minutes before the parade starts!" bellows the yellow clad herald through a bullhorn from atop the stack of crates the mass of people below him. As the announcement rings through the royal square the gathered crowd buzzes in excitement. At the visitor control points leading into the square the Flint P.D. lead by Sergeant Hendricks begin a final check of the rows and rows of people waiting to greet their sovereign. The sound of the gathered crowd is nearly deafening as the cell can make out various unsynchronized groups as they start singing the royal anthem or other festive sounds.
The mass of humanity is like a flood waiting to be unleashed and collectively the Adipem Aquilae know that they only have a few moments remaining before the ropes will be pulled back and the peasants will surge into the square. May the Old Gods help them should any threats escape their net.
Nishoh remains at a distance and tries to use his perception skills again.
With the help of her companions Jesselle then attempts to remove someone of note that was a possible threat. As she attempts to take the man into custody the person in question turns on her and seems appalled that someone might try to take them. The young woman is quick on her feet and attempts to explain the experience away, "Kern... You are not Kern. I am soooo very sorry Sir. You look just like my friend and my actions were in jest, as the two of us do from time to time. I do apologize. Please, let me pay for you and your companions a drink after the festivities." The young woman appears quite embarrassed and produces several crowns to cover drinks for five.
Vivian points out another potential problem to Nishoh. "That woman there looks like she may be trouble."
Autlia tries to spot any likely troublemakers, but no one in the crowd stands out.
As her fellow constables begin to move in, Alyssia cracks her knuckles, rolls her neck, and watches the crowd's reactions to the law enforcement, pointing out her observations to Telesan. Everything seems to be slowly coming together, at least.
The last threat, spotted simultaneously by Vivian and Alyssia is a hulking brute of a man standing with the easy sort of arrogance that suggests he's dangerous in a fight. His posture also suggests that he has a dagger hidden down the back of his pants.
The voice belongs to Thames Grimsley, a grizzled fifty-something sailor with his dark hair cut close to his head and bearing a long scar on the left side of his face.
Grimsley, or Grims, as he is known on the docks, has been trying to organize an official dockers’ guild for the last several months. Though he only worked the docks in his youth, Grimsley spent decades sailing—primarily as captain of a ferry service in Flint’s harbor, but with a stint in the navy during the last Yerasol War. In the last big docker riot he took a gash from a policeman’s knife on the side of his face and since then has tried to organize a unified front for the dockers’ concerns. You also have heard that in his youth he spent a couple of months working at a theater and he supposedly has a very stylized public speaking voice, though one full of unnecessary, melodramatic pauses.
Leon knows him by reputation, mostly as a labor leader from his life growing up on the docks, but the RHC also maintains a file on him in case he decides to change careers from organizer to agitator.
Therie slowly closes on the suspected threat, her hands resting lightly on her large sword as she approaches behind Fortinbras.
Don't make any sudden moves. Wouldn't want to cause a panic now.
Nishoh let's those that spotted the threat handle it while he kills about in the crowd, easily close enough to provide assistance.
"There." Alyssia grabs Telesan by the shoulder suddenly, gesturing with a nod of her head to the brute. "What's our plan?"
Telesan looks the man over. "Hmm. Looks like a fighter, likely armed. We need to know if he's planning anything or if he's got friends here. Have you ever ran the 'Good cop, Bad cop' routine before? I can be affable, you can threaten to pound his head in." Telesan grins at Alyssia "If he has a brain in his head he'll take a threat from you quite seriously. And I do know some small magic that help our success."
"I like that routine," Alyssia smirks, clenching and unclenching her fists a few times. "Alright. You handle the talking, and I'll start the threats if he doesn't cooperate. And if all else fails..." She pauses, looking the brute over from the corner of her eye. Finally, she shrugs. "I think I could grab him," she finishes with a confident nod.
After the woman's foul up she quickly moves off and trails after her partner during the first part of the mission. She spots someone attempting to get his attention but the man seemed to move away with an angered look. Jesselle moves after him as swiftly before he gets to far.
As the bard gets close enough Jesselle flashes the man a smile and apologies to Thames Grimsley, "Pardon me Sir. You will have to excuse my friend Leon, he has been distracted with matters of helping others of late and this even seems to be one of the first he has been out. It would seem he is still lost in thought."
She tries to get him off the subject and asks, "What do you think of today's event?"
Telesan casts a a quick spell on himself; when he's done he appears more charming. He strides over to the large man and offers him a wide grin.
"Good day sir. A fine event we're having here, is it not? I hate to bother you, upstanding citizen that you are, but my esteemed partner here thinks you look like someone we've tagged as a threat."
He shakes his head and wags a finger at Alyssia. "Now I, on the other hand, think that no, this here is just a regular guy. He wouldn't cause any trouble and he'd certainly tell the authorities if he thought something was going on! But, she has her doubts. And you know, once you've seen your partner snap somebody's leg with her bare hands, well, you want to stay on her good side!" He chuckles like he's made a good joke.
"So, if you would humor us, tell us a bit about yourself and what brings you to this exciting ceremony"
Leon continues gazing around the crowd, still trying to wrap his head around his new position as a constable in the RHC. I can help now. Do more than point the cops in the right direction, hope they get the guy. I can get him myself.
He turns as he hears someone call his name, but he just blinks a few times, his mind still wandering. It's only when the man turns to leave and Jesselle goes after him that the young fencer finally seems to realize what's happening, and he darts after the docker.
"Grims? Grims, sorry mate. I've been busy, you know how it is. Saw you just now, couldn't believe me mincers. How's the docks?" He turns to Jesselle. "Miss Wesmere, this is Thames Grimsley, good man who's looking to help the folks who work the docks."
In the distance the outlying crowds begin to cheer as the first of the noble carriages begin to approach the royal shipyards. Ahead of the Aquilae, the police begin to unclip the ropes that lead from the checkpoints and onto the bridge that the procession must pass through before reaching the R.N.S. Coaltongue that waits like a looming behemoth of iron and steam in the docks to the north. Excitedly the mass of humanity begins to push forward, trying to catch a glimpse of Risur's upper crust.
Thames nods his head to Jesselle. "Ma'am." Turning back to Leon, he forces a smile. "Well lad, it seems you move up in the world from playing for a few pence on the corner. By the old gods am I glad I ran into you. I was just down at the Crooked Doxie when I heard that the boxer from the Broken Skull, Dafton Marne was planning to attack the governor during the parade. Between all of the security and checkpoints it took me over and hour to get here. By the looks of it, some of your fellows are talking to him now. That's good. We don't need the docker reputation sullied more than it already is."
He glances around nervously. "Listen. People are angry. I know more than Dafton were planning on staging some kind of jank here. That's not going to stop any time soon with the way things are. Can I ask you fine Constables a favor?"
The man looks down at Telesan with a piggish scowl, his nose crooked from an old fight. A heraldic tattoo on one of his exposed arms shows that he served in the Risuri military, likely in the 4th Yerasol War. "I've an idea where yor friend can stick 'er ideas." He leers at Alyssia. "I could show 'er, if she don't know the way. Now leave me be! There's no lor against standin'."
Leon plants one leg and sets his weight on it, lights a Nicodemus cigarette, and rests a hand on his rapier's hilt. "Damn. Good the others found 'im." He taps his fingers on the hilt and cocks an eyebrow. "But what kind of favor you asking, mate? You know I'd do anything to help out the dockers."
The others have noticed by now that Leon's easily slipped back into a dockers' accent, with the imperfect grammar and dialect of the lower classes.
"I'm not sure how well connected you are, but I saw the badge, and I know a bit about what the Constables do. So if you see the governor tonight, I want you to pass on a message to him from the Dockers for me. Tell him..." He says slowly, choosing his words carefully. "Tell him that the people are tired of the local police harassing us just because a few of the cities nobles don't like being made fun of in tavern
songs. Tell him that the people are mad because of the arrests the police have been making in the last few weeks because the dock workers refused to work sixteen hour shifts of loading and unloading industrial cargo."
Running his hands through his hair, Grimsley sighs and you realize that he looks like a man who is tired of trying to bring order from chaos. "Tell Governor Stanfield that the people are getting restless and that whatever could have happened today could happen again, only much much worse. People are raring for another riot." Shaking his head slowly, he looks Leon in the eyes. "I'm trying to keep our folk calm, but if Stanfield can't take some pressure off of us, I’m afraid there's going to be blood in the streets." Eyes searching, he takes a deep breath out. "Can you do that for me?"
Alyssia cracks her knuckles and bares her teeth in a scowl. "Listen here, you slant-nosed brute. I know I'm right about you, and 'less you want me to set your nose in the other direction, you'd best be answering my friend's questions."
The brute laughs in Alyssia's face, breath stinking of onions and shellfish. "Back up, girl. Men are talking."
"Mmm. Military man are you? I served myself, did time as a medic in Shale. Nearly died a couple times over before we booted those Danarian bastards out of the city. Damned travesty that we lost so many islands in the war."
Telesan waves a hand at the assembled masses "I don't know about you but it pains me to see everyone celebrating us working with the Danorians."
Fortinbras takes a swig from his flask. "Consider the message delivered. You should not need to repeat it or--" his eyes narrow "--supplement it with any demonstrations." His face relaxes to his normal inscrutable state. "Disruptive behavior tends to distort the message it was meant to convey."
Leon nods at Grims' comment, and gives Fortinbras a brief, sour look. "I'm sure the Governor will be happy to hear your message, and I'm sure that the dockers will remain peaceful and civil in their search for legal recognition as unions as long as they can--and as long as the police continue to remain peaceful and civil in their own dealings." He extends a hand to the old sailor. "You have my word."
"Aye. We fought for this country and then they turn around and stab us in the back. It's high time something was done about it. Want to help?"
Thames grasps Leon's hand firmly. "Thanks, son. You do your people proud." He nods solemnly to the other agents present and offers a grudging "Constables." before leaving.
A young police officer pushes his way through the crowds and nods to the pair of inspectors respectfully. "I was asked to relay a message to you from Assistant Chief Delft. He instructed me to tell you that at your earliest convenience you are make your way to gangway of the R.N.S. Coaltongue. Apparently there is some sort of last-minute meeting he needs you present at. Where is the rest of your cell?"
"Handling some situations. We'll get them rounded up and head over, thank you officer."
Jesselle lets Leon and Fortinbras talk with Leon's acquaintance but listens carefully to the conversation. As Thames departs she nods to him in return and then turns looking for the others in their cell.
She comments to Leon and Forty, "Shall we find the others." she happens to spot the teifling first and motions, "There is Nishoh. I believe he was speaking with an local constable."
Following the officer through the crowds that lined the Royal Square, the constables were led past the police line and followed the barriers, crossing over the three hundred foot bridge and onto the Royal Naval Shipyard beyond. In the square ahead the massive shape of the two hundred and ten foot Coaltongue dominates the view. The flag of Risur does not yet fly high upon its mast. That would follow after the ship was officially christened. However, the naval ship is properly dressed. A line of flags hang suspended from the aft of the ship, up to its mast and then forward to its jack stand. At the foot of the white cloth-walled gangway reads the words. "R.N.S. Coaltonge (ASC-1)". In neat rows on the side of the square are carriages that slowly continue to trundle onward before disgorging its passengers. Next to the gangway are two long tables that flank a wooden podium that bears the royal seal of Risur on its front. Leading you through clusters of naval officers, aristocracy, servants and wealthy merchants the officer takes you towards the gangway where you find Assistant Chief Delft chewing on a bit of tobacco and eyeing a halfling chef who is carrying a tray of chocolate confections towards the docked Coaltongue.
His attention turns to the Aquilae and he smiles. "Only the finest for our king, right? Now then," he continues, we’re about to earn our pay. Lots of nobles about, so first, don’t make a scene, and definitely don’t talk to any of the nobility unless they address you first. Second, if something does go wrong, try to handle it yourselves, would you? I’m going to be busy applying my not-inconsiderable charms to very important people. The Constabulary doesn’t get by with just good will and pretty faces, you know. And third, you did good work, so I’ve got a surprise for you." He grabs his cane and leads you to the gangplank of the Coaltongue, but he’s not pursuing the halfling chef. Rather, ahead of you waits Principal Minister Harkover Lee, the king’s chief advisor and personal bodyguard.
Waving tiredly to Minister Lee as the man descended from the Coaltongue the older man smiled and waved back. Stepping forward and putting weight on his cane, Stover gestured to Minister Lee. "Constables, meet 'the old man'" he announced, his eyes twinkling in affection for the elder mage. Chuckling softly, King Aodhan's bodyguard and chief of staff turns his steely gaze on each of the members of the Adipem Aquilae Cell. "Well, who are these fine young men and women?"
Jesselle looks to the others of the cell and takes a half step forward. Knowing the man is said to be the most powerful mage she tires to look confident and introduces herself, "I am Jesselle Wesmere. A pleasure to meet you Principal Minister."
Nishoh looks at all of the flags, the people, the ship, and generally keeps turning his head to take it all in. Stunning. Upon being introduced to the Principal Minister Nishoh badly regrets not touching up his scraggly beard that morning. "Nishoh Maldersha, some call me Dueces. It's a pleasure Mr.Lee." Nishoh extends a hand.