The front door is locked and heavy drapes pulled against the windows.
It doesn't take long for the group to gain entry however.
Warily they enter the pretty home of their dear friend.
Kazamir moves into the living area and sees the dining table upended and two chairs lying askew on the floor. There is a small spattering of blood on one wall but not enough to suggest a severe injury
The door to the study is broken and hangs on one hinge. Moving through, his heart sinks.
There is a body in the centre of the study It is of a tall, slim man in well-kept, expensive clothing. Hazel gingerly turns the body over.
It is the nobleman, Jon Derlith.
He shows no signs of outward injury but you check for signs of life and find no pulse on his cold skin. The front of his suit above his heart is discoloured and blackened.
Of Kendra, there is no sign.
Vala sighs, unsurprised by the presence of Jon's cadaver. With a dark expression and flat, hollow voice, she simply asks, "Hand me that wand the count gave us." Taking it in hand, she administers some of its magics to the body. "And yes, Hazel, Daramid needs to know. Now."
Hearing no signs of a struggle, Vermundr allows himself in via the backdoor entrance.
Meeting up with the others in the study, he begins looking for signs of what happened to the late professor and signs of Kendra's fate.
Jon shows no visible signs of injury. However, you know that any number of spells - particularly those of the necromancy school - could kill without wound.
His money pouch, full of loose coins up to the value of about 50gp, is still attached to his belt. He is dressed for travel and could possibly have been saying farewell.
There are no signs of forced entry and the only disturbance is the adjoining sitting room where the table is overturned and the tea cups and sundries have spilled on the floor.
Kazamir will go over as much of the house as possible before the judge and the watch arrive.
"There's no sign of Lady Kendra", Vermundr growls after searching the property. "We have to assume that he has taken her as a hostage. He'll keep her alive, for now."
Vala turns suddenly at Vermundr, a pained look on her face as if he'd just struck her. "How dare you! Didn't you hear me back at that gods-forsaken Schloss?! He killed her, Vermundr. It might not have been here, but Vrood killed her. He took her and he murdered her!" She points at the red welt, like a band around her finger where she once wore the ring Kendra had given her. "Get out of my niece's house!" She points angrily at the door, her pain and agony running hot.
KAzamir steps in front of Vala, arms wide, placatingly.
"Mistress Cross...Did the ring tell you something definitive? You voiced that Kendra had been killed back at the Schloss, but I must admit that I rather took it as expecting the worst. If you have further definitive information, please share it.
And for shame, Vala. Vermundr has fought and bled for us, for her, and, lacking information, he is reading the situation as I would. What insult is it to her memory that would rush headlong to confront her kidnappers at great risk to himself? He has earned better!
I know this is a raw pain, coming hard on teh loss of the professor himself. And, should we continue, there will undoubtedly be more.."
Kaza's eyes dart to the dead man's jacket...where a gentleman might carry a letter, and he goes a little paler himself,
" but we cannot doubt each other."
"That's exactly what those rings do, Kazamir!" She follows up the shout with a slap to his cheek. "My niece is dead at the hands of that masked villain and you have the gall to take that tone with me? In her own house?! Out! All of you! OUT!"
Zed slips in as the tension of the room rises. He frowns as voices also rise. "We have more pertinent enemies to deal with than each other."
Constantin folds his arms and takes a place next to Kaz and looks from the reddening cheek that he himself has felt, then to Vala. He glances in the direction that Kaz looks.
"No." His voice is hoarse at first, but certain.
"You aren't the only one who loved her. Tone doesn't matter. This house? It doesn't matter. It's an empty shell now. All that matters is finding Kendra and ending Vrood."
The psychic, tightly controlled, says, "I'm going to consult certain... sources. If Vrood plays his hand as he has done in the past, he may well have taken Kendra to do... other things. So we stop him, with everything we have. We end the Whispering Way."
"It will not be polite. It will not be civilized. It will be final. And it may cost us more than it already has. Almost certainly."
"But it is all I have left to give, so if you will excuse me, I will be making preparations for war."
He steps out of the house and heads to the bookbinder's shop.
Not interested in arguing with the bereaved woman, Vermundr grants her wish and steps outside. Zelda follows dutifully behind her master.
Vermundr step outside at Vala's behest but that doesn't stop him looking around.
It's extremely difficult to discern any tracks on the paved walkway of Kendra's path. There has been little rain in Lepidstadt the past few days so there are no muddy footprints in the hall.
He notes that some of the rose bushes outside appear to have been slightly disturbed and one stem is missing it's head. The flower rests crushed into the carpet of the living room, probably a gift for Kendra.
The others see that beside the overturned table is a familiar tome. The huge volume you delivered to Judge Darramid - the Manual of the Order of the Palatine Eye. Although when you last saw it, it was locked and could not be opened. You flip through a few pages and can quickly see that either what is written inside is pure nonsense, or in some way encoded and you cannot understand it's meaning.
You do note that Jon has an empty scroll case attached to his belt and the tiniest flecks of blood on the sleeve of his robe although no defensive wound there. Finally there is a small piece of parchment that's carefully placed in Jon's hand.
It reads: Het Aaru Muut. Khu Ba Heteph.
Vermundr picks up the crushed flower on his way out, rubbing the waxy petals between his calloused fingertips as he steps outside.
I can ask about Kendra with the Powers That Be if you believe it would help, Zelda hums in her sultry voice. Or not. Hope has more value than knowledge in the right circumstances.
"Find her? Find her, Constantin? She's dead! She was sick and her time already shortened! She- she had a suitor, and a future twice-robbed from her!" The fury in her voice shifts slightly at this point, as keenly sharp pain and guilt rush in beside it. "Her father was my best friend in all the world and she was the nearest thing to a daughter I've ever known. She was sick and she needed me! And where was I? Bumbling through some deathtrap of a castle!" All strength in her voice abandons her at this point and she falls to her knees in anguish. She mutters through choked sobs, "She needed me and I wasn't here!"
Kazamir takes a knee next to Vala, speaking quietly.
"Forgive me, Vala...I did not know the full nature of the rings. Forgive that I gathered that you assumed the worst...not that you knew the worst. Forgive the clincal nature of my next questions:
What information does the ring provide? Will you allow us to find what clues we can, hoping for some insight into our foe that he may not realize that he left us?"
Vala rubs the welt on her finger, still sobbing, and leans into Kazamir. She tries to explain through her tears and pain, "The rings, they- they break if one is removed or if the wearer is- is killed. And as- as that happens, the ring im- imparts which of the two events occurred."
Zed looms silently behind the emotionally charged party members. His consoling would be no consoling at all, for he had a dismissively nihilistic perspective on the situation. As such he leaves them to their own devices, searching in other areas for any clues.
Kazamir nods to himself, putting an arm around Vala, helping her to a chair.
Quietly promising to be back soon, he continues his own search, but he starts with Jon's body.
He also checks for his letter, feeling the slightest bit of shame to be concerning himself with his own kin at this time...
Some time later, Hazel arrives with Judge Daramid and five guards in tow. The guards immediately set about securing the scene and a pair of them begin questioning neighbours and passers-by for information. Another pair begin asking you questions, the kind of tedious ham-fisted investigation that frustrates Kazamir to no end.
As Judge Darramid enters the living room and sees one of those guards preparing Derlith's body for transportation, she looks like a haggard old woman - a far cry from the regal and stern Judge you presented evidence to just days ago.
Oh, Jon. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
She turns to the sergeant and barks;
You there, guardsman. You will leave the body in situe and any evidence exactly where it lay. These people are special investigators sanctioned by myself.
But ma'am, he replies, dumbfounded. This is most irregular.
Then file a complain with the Duty Commander! she roars suddenly.
The man looks visibly shaken and takes a step back, but says no more to the Judge. You heard the lady, lads. Pack up your stuff. This is in hand it seems.
The men file out and silence descends on the room. Jon's glass-like eyes continue to stare at the ceiling.
Judge Daramid takes a seat in one of the now righted dining chairs, her hands trembling badly.
It's such a shame. Ms Lorrimor and Mr Derlith. They were not part of this...
"No, they weren't a part of this," Vala snaps tersely. She holds back another wave of tears and continues sharply, "Now explain to me what "this" is exactly and why it cost my niece and my colleague their young lives!"
The two elderly women stare across the table at eachother like a pair of ancient, grey, implacable statues.
I don't know why it cost them their lives. Perhaps because you inadvertently stopped whatever they were doing at the Schloss, perhaps just out of petty revenge.
A trembling hand covers her face.
I don't know... I just don't know... but the Way are an abomination and clearly they think nothing of innocent life.
I have not been entirely honest with you. Partly because I wasn't sure you were to be trusted but largely because until now it was none of your concern.
Whilst I have a role to play here in Lepistadt as a Justice, it is my honour and privilege to also be a Member of the Palatine Eye. You may have heard of the Order, though likely you have not, for we keep our secrets very well though our signs and sigils can be found everywhere by those who know what to look for. In architecture, art, literature, music - even the golden crown bares our mark.
We are a secret group, largely made up of Ustalav's Elite who, among other things, seek to protect this nation from threats both within and without. Our numbers include Justices, Deans, noblemen - even high ranking clergy - but all of us are committed to our philosophies and to the Order itself. Jon was also a member. The army took the credit for the defeat of the dread dragon Kazavon at Scarwall some fifteen years ago but it was the Order's arcanists, Jon and Petros Lorrimor amongst them, who won that battle. It is a sad thing to see him lying there and the Professor gone too.
For some time now, a few of us have become concerned with the actions of the Whispering Way and after they killed Petros and then stole the Seasage Effigy, it is obvious they are becoming a clear and present danger.
The central philosophy of the Whispering Way is that undeath is the truest form of existence. The undead know no pain and no fear, and so have nothing to distract them from their pursuit of power. Living creatures are seen as pitiful and pointless. Unsurprisingly, the organization is heavily involved with necromancy.
The organization’s most famous member was the wizard king Tar-Baphon, the Whispering Tyrant, who was eventually killed by the living God Aroden himself. The Way itself predates even these ancient events by centuries, making it one of the oldest of Golarion’s organizations.
For years, the Way have been quiet. But this sudden activity makes me very nervous indeed. You have all proven capable and each seem to have a vested interest in this. I would implore you to hunt down the scum that did this and bring them to Justice or send them to hell. Either way, the Order - and I - would be satisfied.
Zed looms silently behind the emotionally charged party members. His consoling would be no consoling at all, for he had a dismissively nihilistic perspective on the situation. As such he leaves them to their own devices, searching in other areas for any clues.
"I believe that I speak for all of us when I say that it was already our intention. Having allies - knowledgeable, highly-placed allies - would be an unexpected and welcome boon. Are there any resources that can be brought to bear in the short term?
It might also be helpful if you were to reach out to contacts around Ustalav. It seems that our route takes us through the Shudderwood, next, but who knows if we can bring our prey to heel there.
But, if your Order has naught but god wishes for us, we WILL go on with this pursuit. You can guess, of course that our association with you most likely marks you a target as well. It is likely that Vrood knows enough to target my family in Caliphas, as well. But I feel they are a threat whther they are pursued or not, and so duty overlaps nicely with desire, for us.
"
For now I can offer you the monetary resources you were promised as reward for investigating the Schloss - I have added what extra I can - but I will be in contact with my colleagues so that you can expect further support in the future. the Judge says.
The Shudderwood is an awful place, tales abound about it, but Count Caromarc has written you a letter of introduction to Ascanor? Good. That is certainly the best place to start.
Ok great, leave it with me. Be back anon....
"You and your secret order would be satisfied, Embreth?" Vala scoffs. "My niece is murdered and a good man, your friend, lies dead on the floor in the next room and you expect me to be concerned for your satisfaction? No. No, I'm sorry, I can't sit through nonsense like this right now. I-I've arrangements to make. Whether it satisfies you or not, please excuse me."
She then rises and sweeps from the room, heading upstairs with rushed, sharp steps.
Kazamir lets half a minute pass to let tension diffuse, then approaches the Judge, speaking quietly.
"Madam, first, I beg your pardon for our comrade Mistress Cross. Coming hard on the death of the Professor, this has hit her particularly hard.
Beyond that, I have a personal favor to ask of your Order. I had given Jon a letter to take to Caliphas - a missive to my family - which I note is not in his position. It is likely the Vrood now knows about them, and will use them either as leverage or revenge. Do you have resources that might hide them until this matter is seen through?
One last thing, if I might beg your indulgence. If we are able to see this through, and put paid to Vrood and whatever scheme he is hatching, I would ask the Order to consider me - and any of my companions that should agree - for eventual membership.
[b]"Thank you, your honor. I might ask one other thing, as well. Vrood seems to be amassing a strange collection - the dutiful spirit of a prison guard, and a strange statuette in Lepistadt...I can puzzle no connection between them. If the resources of your Order can produce any further information about the Seasage Effigy, could you see that that gets to us? A connection might enable us to get ahead of Vrood and the Way, rather than cleaning up the unfortunate aftermath of his collections."
"You and your secret order would be satisfied, Embreth?" Vala scoffs.
You mistake my meaning Ms Cross. the Judge replies dryly, taking no offence. I know you're hurt, I am too. Jonathon was a dear, dear friend and what I meant was that the Palatine Eye would be glad to know whatever fresh threat was posed by the Way has been ended but more importantly justice would have been served for both these wonderful young people.
Kazamir lets half a minute pass to let tension diffuse, then approaches the Judge, speaking quietly.
** spoiler omitted **
"Thank you, your honor. I might ask one other thing, as well. Vrood seems to be amassing a strange collection - the dutiful spirit of a prison guard, and a strange statuette in Lepistadt...I can puzzle no connection between them. If the resources of your Order can produce any further information about the Seasage Effigy, could you see that that gets to us? A connection might enable us to get ahead of Vrood and the Way, rather than cleaning up the unfortunate aftermath of his collections."
You dear man. the stern Justice says with an uncharacteristic smile. Whatever power and influence I have will be lent to only two purposes - ensuring my colleagues are aware of this threat and puzzling their purpose, and ensuring your family are safe.
She turns to look at the stricken body of Professor Derlith, now covered in a white sheet, and idly wipes away a tear.
What a waste... she says again. I will make arrangements for his body. I know he has... had.... family in Caliphas.
Constantin is unaware of the drama downstairs. Almost as soon as he saw the professor's body he knew what he must do and set about the task immediately.
Sitting in the small study behind a locked door he breathes in the smoke of a solitary candle and allows himself to see and feel everything.
For hours he strides in the astral realm, catching glimpses of barely understood images and hearing snatches of some barely audible voices. But through it all he forces his body to write. It doesn't matter what it is, but his hand flies upon the page until pieces of parchment are scattered around the room, his ink well has run dry, pencils lie blunt or broken and finally he pinches the wick of the candle and smudges charcoal on the page in the form of almost illegible words.
By the end of it both his body and his mind are equally exhausted. His hand and wrist are pure white fire, the pain intense and spreading almost along the entirety of his arm.
Tired and frustrated, he sifts through the papers for anything of value. But mostly what he sees are just scribbles and nonsense. With a cry of despair he scatters the pages all around the room.
But then, out of the corner of his eye he sees a section of writing that seems more cohesive than the rest.
Picking up the scrap of paper it reads:
A path leads to men who are beasts who are men who are beasts who war. Savagery, nobility, divinity, damnation, revelation in a village of the dead.