"But of course! I have offered nothing but the truth so far...at least for your lordship. I was hired to perform for your citizens. Your lordship gets to freely peek behind the curtain.
"While it hardly narrows the field, I am quite confident that the unknown patron who sits at the far end of the chain that culminates with yours truly is one of the lords of the River Kingdoms, eager to toy with your new demesne much as a cat toys with its prey. My chief suspects would be Daggermark, Mivon, or Pitax. Of course, Gralton is also a possibility. Those 'temporarily embarrassed' Galtan nobles usually keep their eyes upon their homeland, but I wouldn't put it past some of them to eye this land as a potential 'New Galt' for them to lord over.
"There are at least a few lands that can be discounted. Liberthane, Touvette, or the hobgoblins of Fort Feilong would use more direct military action to extend their reach, whilst the elves of Hymbria seem entirely disinterested in anywhere that isn't Sevenarches."
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Wonky looks at the Vixen, the spymaster of Tamlyn, as she pronounces the next few words.
"It must be a joy to use your talents as an agent for foreign powers looking to sow unrest - speaking as one artist to another. It is quite a unique occupation: a country pays you to initiate their aims within a different place, regardless of your own personal beliefs. You are a masterwork tool, employing your artisanal craft as you see fit. I wonder if that craft could be employed by other patrons - I, myself, have more than one job ongoing for different clients."
Wonky leaves it at that, her look lingering on the Vixen's eyes.
The Vixen takes the look as a signal to chime in. She sips her tea…
“When I first met Ahto and Wonky, I was playing the assassins I was with. I wasn’t bought. Just needed to get close to the assassins so I could protect their targets.
“The difference between you and me’s that I knew what side I was on before I took the job. That and I only lied to the enemy.”
She takes another sip of her tea. It does no good to let it cool.
“Ye’re performing. Yer paid. Broke a law or three. And yeah, I’m meant to enforce the law.
“Let me ask ye something. Do ye care if the zombies ye warned o’ shamble their way to civilization?”
She assumes Ahto has some kind of truth magic.
"Well, I would certainly care if they strolled into town while I'm still here," he says with a smile.
However, when his joke falls flat, he quickly stows his smile.
"I don't think you need to worry about that," Grigori adds, more seriously. "If they are bound to their barrow, then it's terribly unlikely that they will stray far from it. You just need to make sure your subjects don't dabble in plundering tombs."
Grigori turns his eyes back to Wonky.
"If you are suggesting that I change patrons and work for you and your lord, little one...well, I certainly wouldn't be averse to that. You all certainly seem a better sort than Luvali and his associates, and I do not deny that I owe you a spot of penance for the trouble I've caused."
The Vixen sips her tea. She says very calmly, “Penance is an appropriate offer. You understand it is only penance if we‘ve yer unwavering loyalty.”
There’s something unsettling about VV’s calm demeanor and the look in her masked eyes. And the grim undertone as she adds, “I’d hate to tarnish me reputation trusting a man who crosses, double-crosses, triple-crosses, then keeps to the pattern and crosses me.”
But she doesn’t stop there. Without anger, without raising her voice, she says, “Seconds to destroy, y’know? But I s’pose we burn that bridge when we come to it.”
If her words are meant as a conditional death threat—
—she seems to have hit all the right notes. She lets the silence linger, then turns to Ahto.
“Ye’ve assurances?”
Ahto understands VV’s implication: she’s asking if his magic will reveal whether the man truly seeks penance.
“I’ve no objection, long as ye’ve assurances.”
I mean… he knew *I* wasn’t lying the time I double-crossed the assassins.
With a knowing grin (not that she really knows), the Vixen says to Grigori, “And while we’re being so honest, will ye just admit ye got yerself arrested with the intent o’ coming to our side?
“If that’s the truth, it won’t blow the deal.”
If anything, that’ll earn me admiration.
Grigori sips his tea before answering.
"You strike me as a man to whom I should not lie, and so I shan't. Even more so than my craft as an actor and storyteller, I value my life. Thus, my loyalty to you is undying if only so that I, too, will not die. You can rest assured that I will not hazard any further mischief or betrayal. I know that my life is on the line not just now, but for many days going forward."
A sigh transitions into a wan smile upon Grigori's face when the Vixen speaks to him again.
"Since this meeting is about airing the truth, I must confess that I did not actually count on you being present at the dance hall's opening. My original plan was to put on my performance, offer a stirring oratory, then make a hasty exit before you or your men could arrive. Clearly, I severely misjudged the circumstances, and thus I will pay for my mistake through service."
“After the way the ladies o’ the house helped put together a very merry Crystalhue performance, o’ course I’d dance at their opening night.” Trusting Ahto would have taken a harsh tone if there was even a shadow of a doubt, the Vixen’s tone changes.
Grigori’s an ally, same as Barris when he started out.
“Might be the best mistake ye ever made. Paval’s the spymaster, but do me a favor and keep me in the loop when ye learn o’ danger that requires action.” She then rises and says to a militia man, “I think our new ally could use a second cup. Tea—” She turns to Grigori. “—something stronger?”
She figures Grigori and Garress’ errand boy can work that out. She says to Ahto, “If we’re done here, I’ve a dance partner who I suspect’s too shy to get on that floor without me. If ye don’t need me at the moment, I mean to get back to the festivities.”
"Tea will be fine. Anything stronger will just get me into trouble. Or perhaps, I should say more trouble," Grigori corrects himself with a wan smile.
"I should thank you. Beyond sparing my life, you've also given me an even more challenging performance to cultivate. After having maligned you, I must now find a way to sing your praises that sounds natural and uncoerced. That is what separates yours truly from your run-of-the-mill raconteurs. I don't simply tell a story, I sell it," he declares, almost raising his voice for the first time in the council chamber.
He humbly requests a day or two, at least, to properly compose an appeal to effectively undo his slander.
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Wonky considers Grigori's words carefully, but has learned to trust Ahto's gut. If he says the turncoat is sincere, then she believes it. Once the actor-cum-firebrand departs, the gnome shares her thoughts.
"I think that, if Grigori was sent as a solo agent to sow unrest, then I am a polymorphed bugbear." At her colleagues' blank looks, she clarifies her words. "I do not think that he was sent alone. I also do not think that he likely knows who his partner saboteurs are, if the source of these aims at sedition are to be thought of as clever. I would give them plenty of credit; I think we should continue ahead as if nothing has happened and that we suspect nothing more in a conspiracy nature. Mayhaps now would be the best time to venture forth to Uringen?"
"Hmmm, yes, I'd heard about that unpleasantness with the granary," Grigori muses. "I promise that I was not involved, and I haven't the faintest idea who might've been responsible."
Ahto easily judges that Grigori is telling the truth. This is perhaps unfortunate because it means the investigation will not yet find its resolution.
"I doubt it's even the work of whomever prompted Luvali to hire me. The purpose of my performance, regrettably, was simply to undermine the people's confidence in their leaders. Again, regrettably. However, they did not seem interested in outright harming your town. That's why I assumed the one responsible was some ruler from the River Kingdoms - they may be hoping to weaken this land in preparation for extending their reach."
Grigori nods in assent. He finishes his tea and rises from the table, but then he pauses.
"Should I take I room at the inn, or would you prefer to lodge me here in the castle...so you can keep an eye on me?" he asks, thinly veiling his interest in getting to stay in a genuine castle.
Grigori is ushered out of the council chambers. Asham heaves a sigh once he is gone.
"I was really hoping that apprehending him would be the end to our sabotage troubles," she says, shaking her head. "I'll keep the militia patrols on the lookout for whomever was responsible for the granary. Maybe we'll get lucky again, and they'll show themselves, too."
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"It appears our adversary is choosing to strike on a variety of fronts, but all of them aimed at fomenting the anger and resentment of the people against our Offices," Ahto remarks. "More such attempts at destabilizing are sure to follow. We had best identify our weaknesses before they do, and start shoring them up."
The Vixen stands beside her wife (offering a sip of her tea as she does). “Getting Grigori to work with us is progress. We’ll still need to stay sharp, and I pray the sabotage won’t escalate to something more directly murderous.
“That said, tampering with the food supply’s murderous enough. I’m glad Grigori‘d no part in it. For the trouble he caused, he’s… entertaining.” The Vixen is sincere about this. “I wonder what kind of enemies we made that they hire performers to manipulate the masses?
“Or’s that just the norm in politics?” It’s a rhetorical question. The Vixen isn’t so naive.
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"I think that, if Grigori was sent as a solo agent to sow unrest, then I am a polymorphed bugbear." At her colleagues' blank looks, she clarifies her words. "I do not think that he was sent alone. I also do not think that he likely knows who his partner saboteurs are, if the source of these aims at sedition are to be thought of as clever. I would give them plenty of credit; I think we should continue ahead as if nothing has happened and that we suspect nothing more in a conspiracy nature. Mayhaps now would be the best time to venture forth to Uringen?"
Asham removes a large, rolled sheet of crisp parchment from a shelf along the wall in the council chambers. She unfurls it upon the table, anchoring the corners with copper pieces, revealing a map of the River Kingdoms. A newly drawn map, at that, adding Tamlyn's borders and Horace in their proper place.
"Uringen is about...150 miles to the southwest, as the raven flies," Ash announces, walking her fingers across the map. "Even on horseback, there and back again is a fortnight's travel. Were you of a mind to make the journey yourself, or did you have reliable representatives in mind to serve as your delegation?"
The Vixen images herself on Dawn’s back for that long. “Me thighs’re soar just thinking on that.”
Fortunately, both Ahto and Ash said the word delegation.
“Sending representatives sounds good to me. I’d rather not head so far out knowing the saboteur’s lurking… probably.”
Upon hearing Wonky, VV recalls her meeting with the nixie. Heh... how could I forget?
“Come to think of it, me meeting in the river with Melianse went very well. I believe she expressed an interest in traveling to Uringen with us, and I got the impression she expects Wonky and I to go. Much as the saboteur concerns me, I can’t be everywhere at once. Maybe it’s best I trust the militia can handle what challenge might come up in our absence.”
"The saboteur caught us by surprise the first time. We won't be taken unawares again," Ash states confidently and defiantly. From her tone, you suspect she takes this situation as both a personal affront and challenge. "In addition to the militia, I have no doubt that Masters Paval, Hexa, and Volklev will be eager to go on the hunt for this villain even in your absence."
The Vixen smiles at Ash. “Yeah... the saboteur ain’t got a chance, me love! Then I guess that means I get Dawn… or… the guy in charge o’ horses gets Dawn for me.”
The Vixen asks her wife, “Before we ride off, can ye help me gather some o’ the students from our self-defense class? I particularly want to address the ones that’re helping out with the watch.”
Whilst the Vixen and Wonky send a message to Melianse, using a bit of magic to aid them, Asham departs to summon the students. Eunomia, meanwhile, sets about securing horses and supplies for the journey.
In due time, the council is joined in the castle courtyard by the nixie representative of the fey, members of the militia, and the lion's share of the self-defense students.
"I couldn't assemble everyone," Ash explains. "I couldn't find Jocelyn or Tomi, for instance. They're busy working, I'm told."
She turns to her wife.
"So, do you have an inspirational speech prepared, dear?" she asks with a subdued smile.
“Prepared? Nope,” the Vixen replies casually. And she just plays off those words as she turns to others. “But that’s exactly what I intend to address—the lack o’ preparation.
“We were unprepared for a saboteur, and we’ve been going on watches ever since. But now some of us, meself included, are about to ride out. I half-expect something’ll happen in me absence.
“So what I ask of all o’ ye—make survival yer priority. Buddy up on watches, don’t get baited into a chase, assume the enemy’s scouts know we’ve increased our watch and they’ll know Ahto, Wonky and I’re out o’ town. If anything happens... things can be replaced and rebuilt. Lives’re precious.”
The Vixen turns to the militia men. She fixes her gaze on those who fended off bandits at the post, including Garess. It is a respectful look. Whatever VV may have thought of him when Ash was under him, she no longer harbors that negativity.
“I still remember that day I fought alongside Asham. I against the wyvern, Ash loosing arrows against the onslaught o’ bandits. We speak so much o’ the glory, but ye lost two brothers at the post.
“I think there should be a memorial for them. They should be honored, not forgotten. Maybe we can discuss how when I get back? Until then, keep alert. I don’t want any o’ yer names on that memorial.”
The town of Horace is filled with both excitement and trepidation. The departure of an expedition is a fascinating distraction from everyday chores and drollery for the common folk who work to build up Tamlyn. Nevertheless, with the land's fortunes tied so closely to the strength and will of its heroic leaders, the prospect of their prolonged absence engenders more than a bit of worry.
All the same, brave faces and encouraging cheers provide a chorus as you secure your saddles and bags, check the harnesses on the wagon's draft animals, and prepare to journey westward.
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Wonky spends time prior to departure creating a few more alchemical items for the travels ahead.
As the team prepares to depart, Wonky turns up with two new alchemical items - a simple vial of alchemist's fire and a cool-looking pellet grenade (cold iron) - and two dogs kitted out for travel, Sprocket and Doo-dad!
"We are prepared for the road!" Wonky announces. The two dogs wag their tails so hard that they risk snapping them off.
The Vixen gives her wife a kiss, mounts Dawn, and has her best bow shouldered. And of course, she’s wearing her most powerful weapon.
“I’m ready meself.”
If Melianse needs to share a mount, VV won’t object to a nixie passenger. She’ll gladly let the nixie take the reins if she’s a skilled rider. Else, the Vixen trusts her steed is used to her by now.
"I think I embarrassed your wife," Melianse says to the Vixen, her voice a deadpan. "She asked whether I needed a tub or wash basin of water to stay hydrated during the journey. I tried my best to politely explain that it wasn't necessary, but I don't think it went very well."
The nixie sorceress' small size means that she can easily share a mount with another or claim a seat upon a wagon or coach.
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Ahto commissions a carriage, team of horses, and two guard/drivers. He also requisitions tents, cookware and other necessities for making camp in the evenings.
"The carriage shall afford comfort for our travels. I will alternate riding with the Vixen as escort so that each of us can have part of the day out of the saddle."
The Vixen says, “I’m happy to get me first turn at the reins out o’ the way, but I best see me wife before we’re off.”
She checks on Ash, not really mentioning what happened with the nixie though. She simply says, “Whatever happens o’er the next couple o’ weeks, let’s promise each other to trust our instincts and intentions, and handle the unpredictable as best we’re able.
“I’ve a feeling we’re both gonna be in dire need of a night off by the time I return. Unless the gates to all nine hells bust open, the night o’ me return’s just for us.”
Of course there is a passionate kiss. Of course the word ‘love’ is spoken passionately. Ideally, no gawkers are present. Ideally, no Mrs. Kavinkas are deterred by gawkers.
"That carriage had better have some sturdy wheels," Melianse cautions. "Some rough terrain awaits us, especially on your own doorstep.
"Speaking of which, I'd recommend setting out westward, rather than southward. There are more reliable landmarks in that direction, starting with Tiressia's grove."
"The time to refit the carriage largely depends on whom you intend to entrust with the task. A local wheelwright might take anywhere from 3 days to a week to complete the task. On the other hand, our very own gnomish genius might be able to achieve success much faster."
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Wonky perks up at the question.
"Of course!" she replies, mind suddenly racing at the opportunity. "My father, of course, was the wainwright in the family, but he did not fail to impart a few Prong secrets to his next-of-kin. Now, if I could find a decoupling sprum-jinger, then we would be in business..." She trails off as she races away to find some doo-hickeys and whatchamacalits, canines racing excitedly after her.
In short order, it becomes clear that the challenge of fabricating the durable wheels is not actually upon Wonky, who conjures the designs to mind as easily as if she were recalling a childhood nursery rhyme. Instead, the true burden falls upon her companions to supervise her: keeping her from purloining components from hapless donors or over-designing the wheels - reminding her that they don't need spring-loaded spikes for additional traction, and the spokes don't need to cast shadow puppets as they roll.
A set of four sturdy wheels - plus two spares - are prepared and affixed to the commissioned carriage in only two days. The journey will fortunately afford time to sleep whilst "on the road," for it seems very likely that Wonky pulled an all-nighter or two on this project.
You also suspect the wheels' thick, wooden rims may harbor hidden traction spikes, after all.
While Wonky works the upgrade, Mrs. Kavinka is glad to spend time with her wife, both privately and publicly. For outdoor activities, she asks Ash to go riding with her. “Ye’re better with animals than I am. Dawn’s used to me now, but still… I lack your expertise. I keep wondering when a day’ll come that I limp home with horseshoe prints embedded in me back.”
Melianse raises an eyebrow at Wonky's mention of undead hordes, and during the ride the nixie plies the gnome with many questions about Ustalav.
Your first stopover is Melianse's own grotto. She briefly dives down into her pool to retrieve some items for the trip, stored in a tightly sealed satchel made from a waterproof material you can't quite identify.
From there, you continue onward - the upgraded carriage rumbling through the forest - until you reach Tiressia's grove at dusk. The dryad welcomes you warmly.
"I must apologize, but Falchos is not here to offer his own welcome. I'm afraid he's wandered off somewhere. He was acting very...nervous, much like he usually would before embarking on some escapade with Perlivash or the late Horace."
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"...and apart from the great umbral dragon, Sicnavier VI, no one lives in Vilrych by choice. Or at least, no one sane. Oh, look, we're at your grotto!" Wonky's exceedingly-grim tale wraps up bluntly as Melianse stops off to gather her things.
"...and the hereditary ruler of Amaans, Viscount Galdyce, was actually an aged vampire of the nosferatu variance obsessed with siring a male heir. He took bride upon bride without any luck, and reportedly was killed by an adventuring couple, but lately...oh look! It's Tiressia!"
Wonky's encyclopaedic recount of tales of Ustalav's horrors to Melianse guarantees that everyone will sleep well.
“No apology necessary, Tiressia,” the Vixen replies. She’s rather mesmerized by the rustling leaves that clothe the dryad, and also give her an amazing hairdo! “But… are ye worried about yer husband’s absence?
“Me intent ain’t to pry. Me concern’s that we’re in a dangerous time. Is this the first time he wandered since Horace passed on, or more a routine we needn’t be concerned o’?”