The kings and queens of Korvosa have long ruled under the shadow of the Curse of the Crimson Throne—an infamous superstition claiming that no monarch of the city of Korvosa shall ever die of old age or produce an heir. Whether or not there is any truth to the legend of the curse, Korvosa's current king is but the latest victim to succumb to this foul legacy. Now, the metropolis teeters on the edge of anarchy, and it falls to a band of new heroes to save Korvosa from the greatest threat it has ever known!
You live in the city, you learn to live with trouble. One old man dies, and because he’s got a golden hat half the city tries to commit suicide with him. All kinds of trouble. Take this new queen… she gave you some gold, sure, but rumor says she’s little more than a spoiled brat throwing tantrums. There’s crime on every street corner. Dead rising in the potter’s field. The threat of martial law still hangs heavy over old Korvosa. But for you, the trouble is a girl. (Why is it always a girl?) Her name is Trinia, and she’s wanted for regicide.
When last we left off, you'd been invited to the home of the fencing master Vencarlo Orisimi:
"My friends," said the letter. "I hope this note finds you in good health in these dangerous times. In light of the recent unrest, I feel that I could provide some tips on self-defense to adventurers such as you, and would be most gratified to meet with you for these lessons, offered gratis, at Orisini Academy, 16 Hillcrest Street. I eagerly await your arrival."
It wasn't just a social call though. You soon discovered that Vencarlo is a friend of Blackjack's, and the masked hero who defied a queen a foiled an execution dropped his charge off for babysitting.
“The matter is simple: Korvosa is no longer safe for Miss Sabor. I’ve arranged for friends in Harse—a couple of well-respected ranchers—to take in our beautiful renegade until this whole ‘assassination’ foolishness blows over. It’s the first leg of the journey where we find our problem, though. Ever since the queen’s put a price on her head, mercenaries, soldiers, and the queen’s new Gray Maidens have been searching for the young lady tirelessly. They’ve stopped by here three times so far, and each time I’ve only just barely been able to turn them away without inviting a search. My most reliable contacts have gone to ground in light of the recent uprisings, and Her Highness’s bounty for Trinia’s capture makes the use of new agents inadvisable. Thus, after some time to let her trail cool, I turned to you resourceful lot. Care to escort a lady home?”
It was touch and go through the streets of Korvosa. Your disguises held though. Despite a little trouble with a suspicious Hellknight, you managed to win free of Korvosa without raising the alarm. Trinia gave you a peck on the cheek and her heartfelt thanks, and you left her safe and sounds with Orsini's contacts.
On the way back to town things got a little spooky. That pack of cards in your pocket wanted out, and your ghost pal read out another harrow. The past, present, and future were splayed out for you, and the voice of Zellara spoke from beyond death.
There were words of healing: a disease cut from the body; a curtain drawn wide, letting clean air into a fetid room. There were words of unease: housewives closing tight their shutters; sailors out in the harbor, the sound of thunder in their ears. And there were grim words as well: mass graves, birds feasting upon the dead, and beautiful women with ashen skin and blank faces, staring at nothing at all.
For Dran, Zellara drew The Survivor: a sign of rebirth.
For Lunio, she drew The Desert: a bleak voyage.
And for Good Dog, the spirit drew The Waxworks from the deck: an overabundance of energy, as of a man with a great many tasks before him.
You had much to think about as your returned to Korvosa. And doubly so when you heard the rumors in the streets. Apparently, the Korvosan Guard fired upon and destroyed a ship full of pirates from Riddleport who had hoped to sneak into the heart of the city under cover of night. Others said that the ship refused inspection as it sailed into the river. When it neared North Bridge and still failed to make its intentions known, the watch fired upon and destroyed it. It's naught to do with you in any case, but it's good to know the city never sleeps, even without you in it.
When you arrived back at your home above Shell-Nanigans Chip Shop, there was a man waiting for you. It was Grau Soldado, the drunken guardsman who had once tried to pick a fight with you. You managed to sober him up then, and he looked more desperate than dangerous now. He's a guard after all, and you do have something of a minor professional relationship.
“My niece is sick," he explained. "I don’t know what she has and neither does anyone in Trail’s End. She’s broken out all over in red pocks and can barely keep down food, or even the swill that goodfor-nothing herbalist gave her. Her mother’s talking about going to the Bank of Abadar, but can’t afford to pay the prices their clerics would demand. Then I remembered how you and your friends handled yourselves during the riots, and how you aided me, and I figured you could help. A bunch of resourceful folk like you, I’d bet if you don’t already have a way to fix this, you must know who can. Surely you can’t just sit by while a child suffers, can you?”
Indeed you could not. You went upstairs to check in on Covi Krori before heading right back out to play doctor.
A priest of Abadar by the name of Ishani Dhatri had beaten you there. apparently he was the 'goodfornothing herbalist,' but he wasn't much use to the ailing girl. You see, Abadar's clergy don't dispense magical healing without payment. The cleric Ishani Dhatri was doing his best to sidestep the strictures of his faith, brewing up what herbal remedies he could. Nothing worked though.
When the girl's mother, a washerwoman by the name of Tayce Soldado, took you up to see the girl, it was a pitiful sight. Little Briennna Soldado had an angry red rash covering her face and arms, appearing in irregular shapes and sizes. She had a bad cough too, and each fit of hacking jerked her poor frame across her mother's bed. Her breathing was labored. Her mother sobbed. And you remembered your own adopted daughter.
Counting your coins, you volunteered to pay for Brienna's treatment. The spell took immediately, and family were beyond grateful, thanking you as best they could with food and drink and happy tears.
For his part, Ishani remarked that some of his more charitable work sometimes requires the aid of those outside his church’s rigid hierarchies. He invited you to the Grand Vault of Abadar where his order is located, explaining that he’s seen similar signs of sickness in the city. He confessed to a worry that Korvosa may be on the edge of a full-on outbreak, and given your ties to the Guard, he thought that putting a word in your ear might be wise.
You did not arrive at the Grand Vault to find a seen of liturgical order and fiscal responsibility however. Instead, you found the following:
Towering over the surrounding buildings, the Grand Vault of Abadar offers a radiant vision of divine luxuriance amid a sea of mortal troubles. As its gray-veined white marble reflects the midday sun, there’s little question that this place is the house of a god. Yet for a deity of law, the steep stairs and ramps leading up to the temple’s great bronze doors offer a strangely discordant scene. Dozens of citizens—mostly of the working class, although the silks of a few merchants show through the crowd—throng the entry, scarcely being held back by a group of gold-armored Abadaran clerics. All seem intent on gaining entry to the temple, but the clerics turn away nearly all comers. The clerics’ reasoning becomes clear as one desperate believer is turned away, his pitiful countenance mottled with violent red sores.
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