"Agreed. She should go straight to Kroft. As much as it would help to use her to find out where the others are, we also have to make sure it's as hard as possible for them to figure out who we are. She's the only one who can give good descriptions and make it easy for them."
"We don't want to risk her getting away from us or walking free after we've turned her over."
Emi dons her guard cloak.
Nebbin also makes sure his cloak is on, keeping a firm grasp on the cultist as they march her to the citadel . He seems pleased that they were able to do something right, even if they hadn't expected a fight at all in a bookstore. Really, who ever heard of having to fight a cult in a bookstore? They were supposed to be nice places where the biggest danger was accidentally knocking a book of a shelf.
The walk across town under the hot afternoon sun is exhausting. The party is saddled with bagged-up loot, festooned with extra weapons and under the constant tension of leading a hostile captive. The guard cloaks draw surprised stares from folks on Hook Street, but once over the bridge and through the tower these stares stop. The prisoner radiates hostility but doesn't try to run or perform any magic.
In the Heights, the group spies the Pharasmin's Wain pulled into one of the yards of a noble house. Apparently the Blood Veil is not just a disease for the poor, and the sight of it triggers Ishan to strike up talk with Kayleigh and Regeris.
"Curious how the disease is such an equalizer, is it not? It affects the rich as much as the poor. My brothers would have it that the wealthy are more affected - even ravaged by the disease. Of course, they are the only ones able to afford the services of the Church. I told them many times of the pain in the streets of Old Korvosa that they did not see. Many arguments."
He shakes his head sadly.
The most direct course takes the group right under the eaves of Castle Korvosa, and the Gray Maidens at the gate and upon the towers gaze down wordlessly on the motley band of red-checker cloaks as they pass.
Twice on the road between the castle and the Gold Market the party passes tents erected and manned by the Queen's Physicians. Lines of sick people snake back into the Slope and Pillar Hill neighborhoods, and again the Gray Maidens make an appearance. Here they maintain order over the shuffling queue, red tassles and shining plate. Feminine eyes behind lowered faceguards.
The sun is set behind hill and castle by the time Volshyenek square and the Citadel beyond it loom into view. The square is less crowded with protest this evening, but it's not cleared by any means. The disease running rampant through the city has had a dampening effect on the crowd, and here and there are clusters of miserables, coughing and sweating upon each other. Another physician's tent stands in one corner of the square, and even here under the eaves of the City Guard's fortress it's Queensguard bared steel that guarantees the peace.
At least the guard at the citadel gates wears the red checker. A captain greets the party as they pass into the fortress, clapping Nebbin on the broad shoulder in recognition.
"Commander Kroft's special invetsigators!" the man says by way of greeting.
"What street rat have you brought us this time?"
He takes note of Tassira's heavily stained robes and gives the cultist a decidedly hostile look.
"A dangerous one, by the look of things."
Tassira looks down at her vest, pants and bandages and uses what little arcane power she has left to clean the blood off.
I really should've taken care of that before arriving.
Kayleigh nods grimly at the guard, not willing to say more about the captive until the group has an audience with the field marshal. After greeting the woman, Kayleigh quietly explains who the prisoner is and what her cult seems to be doing in the already blood veil ravaged streets of Old Korvosa.
When there's a break in the conversation, the young healer asks about the Queen's physicians and Gray Maidens--why the local temples have been shut out of treating the sick and if the Queen's healers are likely to cross the bridges into Old Korvosa.
"Curious how the disease is such an equalizer, is it not? It affects the rich as much as the poor. My brothers would have it that the wealthy are more affected - even ravaged by the disease. Of course, they are the only ones able to afford the services of the Church. I told them many times of the pain in the streets of Old Korvosa that they did not see. Many arguments."
Regeris nods quietly as he moves along. "That is interesting because I would expect the wealthy to be isolated from it for some reason. But you are right - they are the ones who can afford care. When I was in the faith, I saw the city as a beautiful machine designed by the Wealthy Father. Now I see that the machine is a cruel one. There are better ways."
---
Once they meet with the guard Regeris keeps it evasive. "She's a special one. We need to see the Field Marshal. Best things stay quiet."
Nebbin shuffles his feet nervously and looks down at the guard's final words, before Tassira cleans her clothes of the bloodstains he's sure he's actually responsible for. He seems to try to shrink in on himself as much as a man of his size can, hunching his shoulders, as he hands the prisoner over to the guard.
She was almost uninjured -- other than the bruise on her face from Emileva's punch. He gaze strayed back to Tassira for a moment, before falling again to the ground.
"Alright," he says. "We got some mighty dark holes for stashing 'special ones'."
He takes down a ledger from a shelf and starts to make an entry in the book for the cultist. She gives Emi and Nebbin withering looks as she's led to a stout metal door and escorted back to some ugly holding cell.
"Commander Kroft should be done any moment. We'll let her know you're waiting."
The group has a minute to cool their heels in the wide hall before Cressida appears leading a middle-aged man with black hair and large, expressive eyes. He's dressed in the fashion of the empire. Polished buckled shoes, silk stockings, dark blue vest, clean white stock collar. All under a long leather coat with large pockets, stuffed with items. He nods curiously at the group as he retrieves a wide brimmed black leather hat from the rack.
"We'll expect to see your people in the morning, commander." His accent reeks of Egorian.
"We'll want to get a very early start, so please stress to your men the need for punctuality." he says.
"Good evening!"
As the stranger leaves, Cressida turns her attention to the party and the shadow at least partly leaves her face.
"Hello friends. You have impeccable timing."
She gestures with a nod for the group to follow, then leads the way back to her well-appointed office. She sits at her desk and listens to the group's explanation of the bookstore encounter.
"I'm glad you're showing our colors in Bridgefront," she says, looking away to cover her embarrassment.
"Captain Belmonte - he has the command of Garrison Hill - has a hundred excuses as to why we've not extended patrols at least down to the Night Market and the northern neighborhoods yet. Lord knows Soldado has his hands full still in Old Dock. His reports contradict half of what comes from the Hill though, so it's difficult from here to know the truth without spying on my own people. As if I have the spare strength to do that."
"I tend to trust Grau more than Belmonte, even if he is prone to the drink. He's honest enough when he's sober. He's been concerned with this Brotherhood and what response they'd offer since you lot knocked over Eel's End. They've evidently grown so fond of their drug they've fallen to worshiping the monsters that produce it."
"It sounds like you've dealt them another painful blow in taking down this bookstore. Clearly it was a site of some importance to them. You've deprived them of that book as well. When you return to this fortune teller, you must use caution. She walks in occult circles to know them so well and provide you such a lead. I think you're right to suspect her."
"If you can get a good lead on another of this cult's sites, we may be able to organize some backup from the Garrison Hill for your next raid. It's not much, but it's what I have."
Nebbin's head snaps up, his eyes flashing.
"He knew about them and didn't warn us?!" he exclaims. "Shouldn't we have known about that?!"
"Who was that?" Kayleigh mouths silently at Cressida as the man in the black hat departs. She looks at Nebbin worriedly; his emotions seem to be riding a teeter-totter for some reason she can only guess at.
Generally trusting the Field Marshal's instincts, Regeris eyes Belmonte as he leaves carefully.
Regeris is for once happy about Nebbin's outburst. "This isn't a group of drug-seeking weirdos. We uncovered some sort of bizarre ritual involving a clock that killed one of their own and summoned some... spider aberration. There is something very wrong going in the city as relates to the drug shiver and the dreams of those who use it - some kind of connection to another realm is thinning. I don't know enough. I'm just speculating and exhausted. It's been a day."
He thinks a little about Belmonte. "The Night Market guards refused to get involved with the Brotherhood. So the question is where's the real source of power behind them - not to speculate about your colleagues but it may be someone or something more powerful."
Tassira picks up on Kroft's distaste for Belmonte and decides to not mention it. At least, not yet.
For the moment, it appears that the mage is too exhausted to really comment on the proceedings.
Although she avoids direct eye contact, Emi watches the Gray Maidens they pass as closely as she can. They're a puzzle to her.
From what I know of the academies there aren't all that many women enrolled. And she couldn't pluck so many from the Guard, the Sable Company, and the Order of the Nail combined to reach the numbers of the Gray Maidens. Where's the Queen getting them all? They're too trained and disciplined to have been recruited off the street.
Emi's actually impressed by the helmets. The anonymity they grant is appealing. She wonders if she should start using a helmet for the same reason. At the very least it would help keep her brains in her skull. The loss of situational awareness might not be worth it though.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Emi assumes Kroft's dislike for the Chelaxian is due to his being a Chelaxian interloper. She dislikes him too.
He was probably barged up her with the rest of the Queen's people, now running everything they don't know anything about.
Emi supports Regeris's view of the cultists in the meeting with Kroft.
"Yes, I believe it's the other way around. The cultists are serious people with an agenda. They're not building an ad hoc faith around shiver. They're using shiver to realize their religious goals."
Emi's earlier ruminations on the Maidens had also brought a old sore point to the fore in her mind.
"Are there any new developments in the trial of the artist accused of assassinating the King? Trinia?"
"Yes, I believe it's the other way around. The cultists are serious people with an agenda. They're not building an ad hoc faith around shiver. They're using shiver to realize their religious goals."
"I think Emi's right," Kayleigh chimes in. "Didn't our prisoner brag that the cult owns Bridgefront now and that the guard and Cerulean Society are done there?"
Cressida raises her hands to placate Nebbin.
"No sorry, don't mean to give wrong impressions here. You remember the criminals you took down at Eel's End? One of the corpses that Soldado's men pulled from that wreck wore the same holy symbol that you described on these cultists. And it matches up with Grau's report, that this symbol is traced back to a group who call themselves the 'Brotherhood of the Spider'. You've corroborated his report with your own encounter at the bookstore. And now we have one of them in custody."
"Without a presence in Bridgefront, we're largely blind to the criminal landscape of that district. Soldado and Belmonte both have informers on payroll. Rumors like that come from those kinds of sources. But you should feel free to compare notes directly with Grau."
"And that, with a nod at the door, "wasn't Captain Belmonte. That was Doctor Reiner Davaulus, head of the Queen's Physicians. You probably didn't recognize him without his mask on."
"There's something about him that puts me off. I can't place it, but he's somehow false. And he's given carte blanche by the queen to order my men around and even use her own guard as his personal muscle. Just about everywhere the doctors go, the Maidens lead."
When there's a break in the conversation, the young healer asks about the Queen's physicians and Gray Maidens--why the local temples have been shut out of treating the sick and if the Queen's healers are likely to cross the bridges into Old Korvosa.
Cressida smirks incongruously at Kayleigh's line of questioning.
"You know, I was standing there when Darb Tuttle asked that same question directly of Dr Davaulus. First time in a long time that I was genuinely proud of the man for having a backbone. And do you know how the good doctor replied?"
He asked the head of the church, "And how has that been going for you?" There wasn't a hint of mocking in the tone, just a flat matter-of-fact question, like he was filling out a survey. And in the end, as long as businesses remain open and the flow of commerce continues, I'm not sure Tuttle cares how the illness is beaten, or what roll the church plays in its cure."
"Davaulus thinks the illness has already outstripped the divine resources of the city. He thinks it can only be stopped by alchemical means. He referenced precedents I've never heard of, outbreaks in Nisroch and Blood Cove. He told the priests to save themselves if they could."
"His doctors are sweeping the city for the sick and taking them to their hospices for direct care. He's certain to come over to Old Korvosa, and soon. I'm not privy to his plan, though, just his methods at this point. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe in a week. He knows the disease is rampant on the other side of the Narrows. When he brings a file of Maidens into Bridgefront, I fear a blood-letting is inevitable if the guard doesn't have a presence there by then."
Kayleigh frowns as her tired mind tries to cycle through the questions and guesses tossing and turning inside her head. The news that the physicians and their Gray Maiden enforcers will soon be invading Old Korvosa has her on the verge of panic.
"And you're certain Tuttle and the physicians don't have a secret arrangement?" she asks the field marshal. "That's about the only thing that makes a modicum of sense about the physicians sidelining the Church of Abadar: That the priests' healing would secretly go to the rich and powerful while a bunch of lay healers or charlatans deal with the infected masses. Is there any proof that the physicians' treatments actually work? Any sign of healed folk emerging from their hospices?"
Regeris raises his eyebrows at the exchange between the doctor and the Archbanker.
"Tuttle may be a political coward, but he would see the Bank as the first line of defence against the plague. Any competent cleric will have conventional means of treating illness as well at their disposal. Being shut out is not only an insult but... puzzling. The entire response is strange. Why centralize the response to the plague so much? The entire city is dying and so you'd clearly want every possible response working at once. It's like the response to the plague is a source of power in and of itself which is concentrated with the crown and this Doctor."
He shakes his head and then responds to a second musing of the Field Marshal.
"What do you need for the guard to re-establish a presence in Bridgefront?"
Cressida shakes her head.
"I don't think there's any way to be sure of that."
Ishan speaks up from the corner of the room.
"The Archbanker's adherence to authority is bone deep. As long as the physicians carry the imprimatur of the Queen he's going to act within the box they place him in. The Queen's declaration does not prohibit treating victims of the plague. As I recall it prohibits 'harboring' victims away from the doctors. Patrons who bring the necessary tithes are still treated at the Church, they're just not kept there."
Cressida seems to see Ishan in the room for the first time, spots the holy symbol and flushes pink.
"It's okay, Field Marshal. Nothing you say to me is like to make it back to the Church. And you've spoken no heresies in my ears."
He introduces himself and then briefly explains his own present difficulties with his church, but notably not his god. He leans forward and places a hand on Cressida's shoulder and says a blessing. She places a hand over his and thanks him quietly before he glides back over to his corner.
Cressida turns to Emi and her question about Trinia Sabor.
"The artist's fate is surely sealed. Her former judge is now her prosecutor, the Blood Mage ally of the Queen. Her new judge, Zenderholm, she's called the hanging judge for a reason. They'll be building a scaffolding soon in the Castle Square, I guarantee that."
"This Queen will have her scapegoat. The wheels of justice in the city turn at her pleasure."
"Which brings me to your current assignment. And what to do next. How fares the investigation into the Keylock killings? I've not been told of any further murders. Has the killer gone to ground?"
Tassira lets out an involuntary yawn as her exhausted mind blanks again.
Tassira's yawn proves contagious, and Kayleigh quickly apologizes to the field marshal. "It's not the company, I assure you! It's just that we've been very busy these last few days and--speaking for myself--I haven't had any sleep: I've been using magic to keep myself going. What were we discussing again? Oh yes--the Keylock Killer...."
Kayleigh tells the woman where the investigation led and why the group chose to suspend it momentarily. "This Jolistina's a quick and elusive foe, and always seems two steps ahead of us. The folks in Artists Overground seem to watch out for one another, so we thought it best to come up with a solid plan to hem her in and limit her escape possibilities. It might come down to manpower, but we were afraid too many new faces at once might spook our quarry. Plus, we're far from certain the killer's actually with this elf woman."
Nebbin calms slightly at Cressida's comments, but misses much of the exchange with Ishan as he looks concernedly at Tassira as she yawns, and then back down to the ground.
He lets out a long sigh at the commander's question, as they still haven't stopped the Keylock Killer, or the plague, or this cult now.
"I suppose it's too much to ask for the killer to have succumbed to the Blood Veil, or for him to be languishing on a cot somewhere in one of the Plague Doctors' hospices."
She turns to Regeris's question.
"Well, we'll need to scout out another location or find the manpower to clear out the husk of the old building, and build anew. Belmonte reported the old gaol to be burnt beyond recovery."
"We'd need to recruit and deputize some trustworthy locals and try to get back in touch with any survivors of the older garrison. We have information on former guard members, but no guarantees that they've remained at their old addresses, or even survived all the chaos we've been through. We could recruit some numbers from Soldado or Belmonte's units. They should be able to spare a few men. The budget to pay for all of that is the hard part."
"So speaking of missions... next steps. I have one for you. A hard one."
She steps out from behind her desk and starts stalking around the room, one among the group as she talks.
"So by virtue of their rights to order around my men, the Queens Doctors are authorized to order you around as well. The fact that you largely operate undercover gives you a small bit of anonymity that my other resources lack. The fact is, I want very badly to investigate the plague and what these doctors are up to, but I don't want you caught by them, and your cloaks and credentials will gain you nothing with them. So I was thinking to have you investigating the sickness in the margins, where the physicians aren't looking."
"And I was thinking about the sequence of things, before the Blood Veil. There were reports of a plague ship some nights before people started getting sick. The Seawatch tower fired on her and destroyed her before she made landfall. Yet within days the Blood Veil had taken root in the city."
"Maybe if we knew who or what that ship was, we'd have a better chance of piecing together how she brought this doom on our city. Where it came from, if it has been known elsewhere in the world."
"What do you think? Could you accomplish this? To dive down to the riverbed, with the aid of magic, or equipment or something? Establish what was the name of the ship, at least? See if there's anything to recover that might be a clue?"
"I can prepare a water breathing spell in the morning," Kayleigh announces nervously. "The problem is...well, I'm not much of a swimmer. And I still have several patients I'm trying to heal of the blood veil. I guess I can manage with a couple less remove disease spells tomorrow."
"I can help carry that burden as well," Ishan volunteers. "We have the same spell. I should be able to cast it twice."
"Very good!" Cressida claps. "Perhaps scrolls or potions are available in the city. The Guard will cover your cost."
"The wreck has sat on the river bottom for days now. If it takes you a day or two to set it up, I certainly understand. I've spoken with two of the members of the trebuchet crew that night and they gave me their memory of the position and bearing when they hit her. They said she sank almost immediately. I figure it places the wreck somewhere in this vicinity."
She pulls out a map of Old Korvosa and the Jeggare and points to a region out in the roads, well north of the North bridge.
Nebbin seems a bit nonplussed by the reaction, though it does clearly catch his attention, as he looks up, trying to look out in the direction of the harbor.
It had never once occurred to him that his life might lead to a point where he would actually have a spell that would let him breathe underwater, or been in a situation he would need -- or get the chance -- to do something like that. Despite himself, he can't help but be excited, and the first tentative smile crosses his lips since the bookstore.
"Oh--will you be joining us on our merry swim?" Kayleigh asks Ishan, sounding both surprised and perhaps a bit pleased. "I figure two water breathing spells should suffice, assuming the field marshal's guess as to the wreck's location is accurate: one to get us to the wreck and back and another as back-up, in case it takes longer than expected or the first spell somehow gets dispelled. I was figuring on a 2-hour duration when I thought just five of us would be going, but even if you come along, that's still more than an hour-and-a-half per person."
Turning to Regeris (an ex-Banker!) to make sure her mental math's correct, she asks, "An hour and a half-to find the wreck, explore it, and get back to land should suffice, right? Or should I prepare a third casting just to be extra safe?"
To Cressida, the Milanite says, "We still have two more errands today. Assuming that neither turns out badly, I think we can probably make the dive tomorrow." She looks to her friends for confirmation.
Regeris nods once, simply. "It seems that our list of things to do grows ever longer, but diving into a shipwreck to uncover the source of this madness will be a welcome distraction. The two spells should suffice. Thank you for coming with us Ishan, it makes a difference."
He looks down at his longbow. "Hrm, I may need some different weapons."
"...and I will need to think of a different set of spells to bring to bear." Tassira finally speaks up. "Electricity is probably going to do more harm than good underwater."
"Well, I thought I should be helpful," Ishan replies. He smiles awkwardly and shrugs his shoulders. "The Law and the Church are deeply aligned, and some atonement work on my part might not go amiss with the Lord of the First Vault. I thought perhaps I would cast my two spells first, perhaps from the boat... there would be a boat, right?"
By the time you leave the Citadel the sun has fallen below the horizon and the sky has darkened to a deep navy blue. As the group makes its way back over the shoulder of the Acadamae hill, an inshore breeze blows through the city cooling its pavements and driving the smoke of a thousand cookfires out of the streets. There's still a curfew in place on this side of the Narrows and once the sun sets, folks largely head for their homes. Here and there in the deepening shadows are hushed conversations or sounds of movement. Lights appear behind upper story windows as Korvosan life disappears behind its doors. A patrol of City Guards moves to intercept you in the Heights, but they simply wave you on once they're close enough to recognize the checker.
For all its windows, the Vantyev estate has but one visible light, on the ground floor to the left in the dining room. Knocking on the door brings no response.
"Do you think something's wrong?" Nebbin asks nervously as the wait at the door drags on and on. He glances at Kayleigh, but otherwise stares mostly ahead at the house, avoiding any eye contact with Tassira.
Kayleigh makes eye contact with Nebbin, and it's clear she's a bit worried.
"Maybe the butler's preparing dinner," she theorizes. She reaches down to try to turn the doorknob even as she asks Tassira, "Do you have a key?"
At the last second, Kayleigh turns to Ishan. "I believe Tassira's father has some dealings with your church. If the absence of the wand has been discovered and the church is looking for you...well, perhaps it'd be best if you weren't seen here with us."
Anxiety is already starting to roll around in her chest when Tassira reaches her family home.
She fumbles in her pockets and produces a key to the front door.
"...oh, I hope nothing's wrong..."
Regeris shrugs at Kayleigh. "I doubt they're too concerned with internal Bank business. It's a large organization." As it becomes clear that the Vantyev estate is not showing the signs of expected life, Regeris tenses up and becomes serious. He takes a step back, scanning the estate and looking for anything out of the ordinary.
Regeris doesn't spot anything particularly suspicious in the small court before the home's front doors. The carriage house and stables are quiet. It looks to all purposes like a home that's locked-up early.
Tassira's key still works and the big front door yields with a familiar squeal. Beyond is a darkened front hall. To Tassira's relief, there are sounds of life in the building. Someone moving around to the left and also deeper in the building, toward the back.
Before she decides what to do, the noises from the left become louder, someone coming to the foyer, and with a light.
"C-Cassandra...?" a man's voice asks tentatively.
It's Tassira's father. His clothes and hair are out of sorts, something Tassira has rarely witnessed in her entire life. He holds a candle aloft to see faces. He has a drawn rapier in his other hand.
"Cassandra!" he repeats, peering at Tassira in the poor light. "You're home early, then, eh? Was your party not quite the thing?"
Tassira recognizes the tone of ugly sarcasm in her father's voice. And an unsteadiness. Matched with his reek, Tassira realizes with a shock that her father is blazingly drunk.
"Did you bring your loose lot home with you?" he angrily demands, seeing the others standing there for the first time. The rapier's tip comes up to point at the ceiling, then wavers there dancing in a drunk little orbit.
Tassira's anxiety subsides when she hears her father's voice. Then it comes flooding back in full force when she sees the state he's in. Drunk, angry, armed and unsteady.
"Dad?" She gasps and takes a step back in shock. "No, Dad, it's me. And my friends." She holds her hands up to try and calm him down. "And what do you mean, a party?"
During the portion of the conversation about reestablishing a Guard presence in Bridge Front, Emi brings up to Kroft the exchange she and Regeris had at Lavender's with the local 'private security'.
"I think you can expect a period of pissing matches over who exactly gets to keep the peace. It's going to put a dent in the income of local thugs."
Emi also consents to looking into the wrecked ship. It's a wild idea but she's a strong swimmer, and at this point she's up for anything that might help solve some of their ever mounting questions.
On the way to Tassira's parent's home she sets about figuring out what kind of equipment exploring underwater might require. Her falchion will be of little use, more like an oar than a weapon underwater.
The enchanted rapier is a very timely find. But maybe a spear is better? I'll to talk to Nebbin about this as well. I doubt it's going to occur to him... Waterproof oiled bags or something of the sort?
Emi doesn't speak up at the house. She's never had much luck talking to Tassira's parents.
Kayleigh's jaw drops in shock at Lord Vantyev's words until she belatedly remembers that Cassandra is the name of Tassira's mother. Knowing that the man looks down on Milanites, the priestess follows Emi's lead and keeps her mouth shut...for now.
Nebbin's face darkens and his muscles tense. Jaw clenched, he bites back anything he might say, in case this man -- Tassira's father?! -- insults her again.
Regeris looks over the man with a critical eye, trying to sense what the root of the issue is.
"Tassira!"
The sword tip wavers, then lowers to again point at the ground.
"You look so much like your mother... too much, nearly. Your friends... your Guard friends."
"Yes, of course. Come in then... only, why are you here? Is it something to do with your brother?"
"Your mother is out," he replies, in a tone that Tassira recognizes to mean 'end of discussion'.
Glancing around the darkened foyer it's apparent that the estate is going to pot. It smells stuffy and sour in the place. Coats, boots, various items are strewn about that should not be here. Nothing's in its usual place. The mountain of unopened stationary at the writing table is daunting.
Nebbin whispers to Kayleigh.
"I think he's been drinking! Look at this place. Everything's a mess; it's worse than the kids in the church. What happened to their butler?"
"Maybe the Vantyevs let him go," Kayleigh whispers back to Nebbin. "Or maybe he accompanied Lady Vantyev to this party."
Knowing that time is of the essence (and not catching the lord's 'end of discussion' tone), Kayleigh blurts out everything, figuring that the full truth might just be enough to stun the drunken lord into immediate action.
"We fear your wife may be in mortal danger. Do you have any idea where she went?"
The butler must be gone, and for a while now. The man was reflexively nit-picky. There's no way he'd let this happen. Bad stuff.
Emi stays extra quiet but elbows Nebbin to shut him up.
Tassira shoots a look back at Kayleigh.
"...Dad, where did Mom go? We need to check on her."
Comfortable with his read of Tassira's father, he keeps the information to himself for now and simply just remains still and relaxes into his neutral expression - which is a stone-faced glare.
"Honestly, Tassira, I don't know."
He flushes red, apparently just this side of too-drunk-to-be-embarrassed, and glances over her shoulder at the strangers behind her.
"Your mother and I are at ends! She has the carriage and she's out. She often does when I come home. If you need to check on her, you'll have to find her yourself. You're an investigator now, right? Add finding your mother to your list of mysteries."
"You lot see yourselves out," he says, turning his shoulder and shuffling back in the direction he came from. The tip of his sword drags the paneled flooring behind him, adding a nice scratch to the air of dilapidation in the room.
"HEY!" Nebbin shouts as the man turns his head. "That's no way to act to your daughter!"
Face darkening and muscles and fists clenched, he takes a step forward.
"You apologize to her RIGHT NOW!"
Emi takes hold of Nebbin's arm, trying to guide him back out the door.
"This isn't the time Nebbin. You're not going to get what you're asking for right here and now."
Kayleigh's whirling about to go seek Lady Vantyev when she hears Nebbin's outburst. Her first instinct is to intervene and be the peacemaker, but...Nebbin's words are already out and--more importantly--they ring true.
Turning quickly to Regeris, she asks the talented man, "Any chance you can find some tracks left by the carriage? That would at least give us a direction in which to start searching." Not waiting for an answer, she returns to the front door to watch how things develop and maybe use one of her two remaining channels if things turn ugly. Thankfully, Emileva has already stepped in.
Tassira flinches and her anxiety roils around in her gut and chest when she hears how badly her parents' marriage is doing.