A cool sea breeze accompanies your arrival in exotic Katapesh – the city ruled by the secretive Pactmasters, where anything may be sold and bought under the guidance of the First Vault's Keymaster.
On this fine Pharast day, whether you were lunching, studying or practising weapon-craft, an individual with eyes of white requests that you accompany her to the Golarion-famous Farseer Tower, where Venture-Captain Wulessa Yuul will appraise you of another opportunity to be immortalized in the pages of the Pathfinder Chronicles.
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"Greetings, fellow pathfinders! Well met!" An aasimar dressed in Qadiran fashion carrying a couple of scimitars and a bow offers a sweeping bow with a flourish and a thousand-candle smile. "My name be Lathlo, and before you go asking, indeed, I be that Lathlo: Lathlo the Flatulent at your service. It's been many a year since I walked the boards plying the fine art of the whoopee cushion, but still, such a name persists. These days, I fancy myself more Sarenrae's Privateer, in the service of the Society of Pathfinders." He returns his feathered cap to his head before continuing.
"There be something you should know: while each person must follow their own conscience, I share my dear lady Sarenrae's firm belief that light can be found in even the darkest of hearts. So I prefer to use nonlethal methods to attempt to subdue my foes. While I wouldn't be so presumptuous as to ask my companions to do the same, I would ask that your refrain from slaughtering the helpless. In other words, if I've knocked someone unconscious, I would appreciate your restraint. Perhaps I'll be able to help them see the error of their ways."
Lathlo then nods his head to each of you, offers a bright smile, then gives you a thumbs up, at which point a bright halo surrounds his head, which almost seems to radiate an air of goodness...
You get the idea...
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There is a waif staring up at Lathlo as he speaks, noisily chewing on the remnants of an apple. When the man finishes his little spiel she casually leans sideways and stage whispers to the air beside herself. "I think he's a little weird. I mean who beats up beaten people? You just take their stuff if it looks cool." She turns her head fully to the empty space and giggles into a snort. "That means he farts?!"
Her attention goes back to the aasimar and she holds a scratched up hand towards him. "Heya, Farts. I'm Seren. My friends say hi too, and think you're interestin'. Especially Dorian... we have no idea who you are."
Seren is a gutter snipe that looks barely old enough to be working for the society. She is dressed as if she fell through every closet in the Grand Lodge, with mismatched attire meant for everyone from a scholar's frock and Kalkamedes' night cap to a knight's boot on one foot and a well-worn traveling shoe on the other.
The only consistency in her clothing are seven colorful scarves tied all over her body. She likewise carries a hodgepodge of equipment meant for every sort of adventurer, including more than one holy symbol, a pair of wakizashi at her waist that have clearly been tied to her belt wrong, and a curious amber jewel at her neck that has been attached there firmly with a thick linked chain.
Those of you who accompany the white-eyed woman, are shown to a spartan meeting room within Farseer tower. Six plain wooden chairs are set before a long table laden with dates, figs, pomegranates and an urn of hot tea.
Five of the chairs are vacant. The sixth is occupied by a fit Qadiran woman, who gestures for everyone to sit.
She introduces herself as, "Venture-Captain Wulessa Yuul."
Before -- unusually for this part of Golarion -- getting straight to business.
“According to your file, you have a penchant for ‘souveniring’ items during your missions, Aanisah Seren.”
VC Yuul’s eyes flick over the nightcap adorning the young medium’s head. “I would ask you to take nothing of value from where I am sending you. No matter how ‘cool’ it looks. I cannot stress this strongly enough.”
“Well met, Ser Lathlo. Your method of accomplishing this mission concerns me not -- provided you do NOT vandalize anything in …”
The woman pulls herself up, raising a delicate hand. “Forgive me. I get ahead of myself.”
“Before I delve into the details of the mission, I would ask that your companions introduce themselves.”
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Seated at the table is a tengu, dressed in gaudy attire as if he'd walked through the markets of Goka and bought one of every article of clothing he'd found therein. Yet through all the menagerie of thread and bauble, the one most striking feature is the obviously fake Fu Manchu mustache that hangs from the sides of his beak.
Across his back is a long blade in its sheath and great bow and quiver full of arrows. A haversack is placed on the floor beside him as he sips a cup of tea.
"Greetings, salutations, and hello. I am the extraordinary, legendary and renowned GENERAL CHAK! But certainly, assuredly, and undoubtedly you have already know this. Still. I would be remiss, thoughtless and irresponsible if I did not give you my card."
He hands each of you a small business card upon which is written with a careful hand, "Chak Yuen Chen, Scrivner, scribe, and penman extraordinaire."
He then takes a moment to carefully take a sip of tea.
"I've had a better, superior and finer cup than this. But I commend the effort, attempt, and endeavor. You must simply try, taste, and sample a cup of Ms. Ebonfeather's brew."
He takes a fig and samples it.
"I don't suppose you've ever considered, pondered and thought about making this into a pie?"
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Seren bristles noticeably and slams a hand down onto the cap she's wearing. "Hey, this was a gift. Kalks just doesn't know he gave it to me! And... and..." She jerks a thumb at the air beside her. "Anythin' else that isn't mine that happens to end up in my hands is Wynn's fault!" She tilts her head sideways and looks distracted, then wheels on the space she just pointed to. "You know you're the one who does it, don't play innocent!"
"I don't own anythin' valuable anyways." She quietly places the cup in her hands on the table, looking vaguely sheepish until Chak distracts her. "General Chak!" She grabs the card, glances at it, then holds it over her shoulder. "Do we know him?... Yes, a bit? Well that's good. Hello Mr. Chak. I'm Seren, I gots friends. Want to be one?" She holds out a small hand out firmly, waiting to shake.
Wulessa Yuul stands to receive Chak’s meishi in both hands. She pauses to read the card's details before bowing toward the tengu perhaps 10 degrees.
“Your penmanship was not the first quality I thought of when considering you for this mission, General.”
The Qadiran nods. “The reputation of your previous companion Andrietta Ebonfeather has reached Katapesh.”
“While tea is not quite a lifestyle here like it is in Tian Xia, many wealthy nobles and foreign traders see partaking of tea before a business deal as a portent of future cooperation and success.”
“A Prophet of Kalistrade named Temel Passad numbers among them -- remember that name, Pathfinders.”
"I don't suppose you've ever considered, pondered and thought about making figs into a pie?"
“Sadly no.”
VC Yuul’s expression is unreadable. “My chef’s specialty is baking blackbirds into pies.”
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Petrok stands in the back of the room his hands folded in front of him. He raises an eyebrow at the mention of sovereigns. He quickly dismisses any suspicion, as the Venture Captain seems, not overly concerned. He is however, wary of the one named Ser Lathlo. Wanton destruction always upsets the balance.
“Before I delve into the details of the mission, I would ask that your companions introduce themselves.”
Petrok takes the cue and clears his voice, Ut umm..I'm am Petrok..my adopted father's name is Kaznikh.. Petrok shuffles his feet for a moment ..not comfortable with public speaking. I was..am, a bastard 1/2 breed. My mother kept me, against the traditions of her people. She lives with my adopted father, near the Ice stair a member of the Ice chasm clan. I myself, ..claim no people and begrudge no people. I have found a home, in the Pathfinder Society. Petrok looks around ..a little unsure of himself. He finishes by meekly saying, I do what I can to serve. Petrok then steps back, letting another speak.
“Welcome, Petrok Kaznikh. Neither the Society nor I care from where you hail, your title nor your social station.”
She greets the mystic with a warm smile. “We only care that you are willing to contribute to making this improbable mission a success.”
❄ ❄ ❄
“I assume your cognomen refers to the number of spirits bound to your mortal form, Seren?”
VC Yuul gazes into Seren’s eyes like she’s trying to open a window into the medium’s soul. “You have ventured with the ex-paladin, Kalkamedes the Fallen.”
“I trust you or one of your ‘friends’ wasn’t responsible for the literal fall he took in the Fenwall Mountains?”
The Venture-Captain's features harden. “Nothing valuable from Ghenett Manor -- your destination -- must by seized or stolen by Wynn, yourself or any member of this party during the course of this operation. I trust I do not need to mention this again!”
Then she smiles, holding an index finger aloft. “Except for ONE item.”
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Though he left his life as a comedic performer long ago, Lathlo feels a wistful itch at the notion of having an audience much larger than what is typically available on a pathfinder mission. He smiles and nods at each pathfinder in turn, saving Seren for last, to whom he nods eight times, each slightly more to the right than the previous nod.
He turns to Yuul and offers a traditional Qadiran greeting before asking, "So, what is this one item you would like us to acquire... and would it be by any means necessary? Just how important is this item?"
“It’s important.”
VC Yuul holds up her right palm. “But let me stop you and back you up a little, Ser Lathlo -- keeping your derrière facing AWAY from me, s'il vous plaît!“
“This has all the makings of a magnificent embarrassment.” she continues sourly.
“The Lantern Lodge recently sent a delegation to the palatial manor of one Temel Passad in Kerse, Druma. As I mentioned earlier, Passad is an enormously wealthy devotee of the Prophecies of Kalistrade, and possesses the only known copy of the Mutani Manual of Martial Mastery in the Inner Sea. The Pathfinder envoys were tasked with obtaining this rare tome, by either purchasing or leasing it.”
“By all accounts Passad is a difficult man, but the delegation proved... stupendously inadequate to the task. Not only did they fail to secure the manual, but they also managed to grossly insult the Prophet. Two of the representatives were manhandled off the property and taunted by Passad that under no circumstances would he part with the Mutani Manual unless the Society could earn it, challenging us to take it from a hidden location among his dozen or so holdings throughout the Inner Sea.”
“The third delegate, Dr Harmid Bestah one of the foremost experts on all things Iblydosian, was detained by Passad for what he termed ‘an extended conversation on the finer points of ambassadorial etiquette.’ He’s invoked an obscure Druman statute involving foreign embassies, making this kidnapping perfectly legal in his government’s eyes.”
“The Mutani Manual depicts and describes exercises on all forms of Iblydo-Westcrani wrestling and combat maneuvers. The Decemvirate would like to own, or at least be granted access to it, in order to copy relevant portions, in the lead up to the next Ruby Phoenix Tournament in Goka, Tian Xia.”
Yuul makes an open-handed gesture. “You know, the contest where we won the now indispensable Hao Jin Tapestry.”
She hands over a map copied from city records. “This is a plan of Ghenett Manor, Pasaad's Katapeshi holding and YOUR team’s target. The theory is that if we accept his global invitation at each of his twelve Inner Sea holdings simultaneously, he will have no means to increase security at the true site.”
“Your mission has but two objectives:
1. Secure the Manual – if indeed your site houses it, and
2. Liberate the Pathfinder sage, Harmid Bestah – again assuming he is being held at Ghenett Manor.
“In addition, do as little damage to the property as possible. Also, take nothing else of worth from the place. Given our already ample embarrassment with Passad, please don’t add to that dishonor by making off with the man’s silverware or his grandmother’s brooch, for Abadar’s bloody sake! No doubt the villa is a sumptuous and tempting target, but you must keep this in the forefront of your minds …”
VC Yuul’s gaze returns to Seren. “The tome and the scholar are all that matter. Everything else is a distraction. The Decemvirate will take a special interest in your conduct on this assignment.”
“Lastly, we have reason to believe that others are in pursuit of the Mutani Manual, including the Aspis Consortium. Be wary! Under no circumstances can the book fall into the hands of a rival organization.”
“Now, do you have any questions?”
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Petrok speaks up, Has a forward team sallied forth to, our particular location and scouted? This... Petrok, has a little trouble, with the pronunciation, Ganatt Manor?..What I mean is, have guards or known guardians, been observed at the Manor? This Passad, seems like the vindictive type...I hardly think he'll let us walk right in to one of his properties, without a challenge.
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A tall Nagaji, who is late to join the conversation, nods. "If I may, fellow Finders of the Path, my name is Surumi Gajutai, and I hail from the Spellreaver Tribe of the Shaguang Desert. Forgive me the interruption, but I felt like I couldn't join in on the discussion without a proper introduction."
"The guard is undoubtedly in place. But is it guarded by local mercenaries or by the cadre of soldiers hailing from Bruma? Or does he employ an unusual zoo of guard creatures, as all eccentric rulers do?" the Nagaji shudders articulating the last thought. He turns towards the captain "Do we have that information? Do we have time to ask around the nearby city and find out, or are we hard-pressed to go in immediately on arrival?"
"As for plundering the kalistocrat's belongings, oh-sss respectable Captain, you can count on us not taking even the slightest interest in the matters. I am a scholar and the poet of the blade, not a thief." A simple breastplate over the bare snakeskin and complete absence of any non-utilitarian elements in the skald's attire can attest towards that point.
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"He didn't fall! We lowered him down with a rope!" Still, she wilts under the continued focus of the berate for borrowing things. It was just borrowing for a long time. "I promise I ain't touchin' nothin' but this wrestlin' book."
She listens relatively quietly to the rest of the briefing, whispering to herself behind a cupped hand occasionally. When she gets the chance she'll straighten up, the vaguest hints of a glimmer in her eye. "Now, if we run into any o' them snakes, I can borrow their stuff, right?" She thinks a moment before piping up again, not waiting quite long enough for the first question to get anwered. "I'm an important sage you know, dun worry about Harmid, I'll a fellow thinker. Does this house have any dungeons?"
Has a forward team sallied forth to, our particular location and scouted?
“I’m working on that.”
Wulessa Yuul sits like a statue. “The scouts’ names are Chak Yuen Chen, Lathlo the Flatulent, Petrok Kaznikh, Seren’s Seven and Surumi Gajutai.”
“After they’ve finished scouting, they may as well stay and finish the job.”
I hardly think he'll let us walk right in to one of his properties, without a challenge.
VC Yuul taps the table before her in satisfaction and smiles. “I knew there must be a reason the Paracountess recommended you, Agent Petrok.”
“Have you ever watched one of those campy Taldan spy plays, where the secret agent walks brazenly through the villain’s front door to match wits with him?”
“With Passad’s flair for the dramatic, I’d suggest such an approach would be one of many strategies that could work.”
“Welcome to Katapesh, Agent Gajutai. I trust you will live long enough to enjoy your stay.”
“The guard is undoubtedly in place. Do we have that information? Do we have time to ask around the nearby city and find out, or are we hard-pressed to go in immediately on arrival?”
“How you go about the mission is entirely up to you. However, you are definitely on the clock starting NOW. For all we know the Aspis and any other rival groups may already be on site.”
She *shrugs* “Passad is a foreigner and a recluse. The people most likely to discover information about his security measures are YOU.”
“I am impressed by your confidence, conviction and assurance, General Chak. I trust it will not result in you being slashed, sliced or blended.”
"Now, if we run into any o' them snakes, I can borrow their stuff, right?"
The Venture-Captain nods. “Anything that Passad doesn’t own is fair game, Seren. The only intelligence we have about the manor is the map I have already provided you.”
“I am pleased to hear you possess wit and guile. I suspect you’re going to need them.”
The Qadiri stands and slides three sealed envelopes over to Chak, Gajutai and Seren.
“Your respective Faction Heads also have ‘words of encouragement’ for you. But I will repeat that the Ten only care about the Manual and Harmid Bestah.”
“If there is nothing else, I have hired a boat to take you up the Scorpion River and land you a mile or so from the manor.”
“You may purchase anything you wish in the sprawling souks and bazaars of Katapesh on the way to the docks.”
“But dally not! As I mentioned, you are currently on the clock.”
“Good luck.”
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Seren takes the note and reads over it intently... twice. She then looks up at Yuul and lets out a suspiciously nervous laugh. From that moment on she avoids making eye contact with the VC. "Don't worry, we'll get'em both and won't do anything to mess it all up or nothin'." She hesitates a moment longer. "Thanks for the map, the boat, and the figs!" The medium grabs a handful of figs, a few finding their way to her mouth as she darts out the door before she can get yelled at again.
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"Aspis, you say? Most excellent. It has been too long since any of those dastardly dogs has felt the slap of my blade and the keen bite of my sharp tongue." Lathlo pauses a moment before respectfully inquiring, "I don't suppose there's enough information about the manual for divination magic such as locate object to be of use? Is the manual made of any particular substance or have any unique properties that might aid locating it? Could you give us a physical description? And, of course, the same applies for Master Bestah. Beyond a physical description, do you have any information we could use to confirm his identity? Even better, any unique item or attribute that could be used to locate him? Barring that, at least some personal details we could use to confirm his identity?"
“Both the Decemvirate and the Lantern Lodge have had their own diviners on the case since Bestah was taken captive. But if you think your own magic will help, who am I to argue?”
VC Yuul *shrugs* “The book’s text is ordinary ink on vellum. It’s reportedly written in Iblydan, which has a unique alphabet, so should be easy to spot. It’s supposed to be copiously illustrated and the leather cover bears an embossed representation of two half clenched fists.”
“Dr Bestah is a very large Garundi man. During the negotiations he sported a heavy, dark beard. VC Amara Li describes his personality as abrasive, which no doubt contributed to his clash with Temel Passad. We have no reason to believe that he has been seriously harmed, but it’s probable that Passad has made every effort to assault the man’s dignity.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Anything else, Ser Lathlo?”
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As the party heads for the boat, Lathlo says, "While I dabble in disabling mechanical devices, unfortunately I can do little for any traps that are magical in nature. Perhaps our friend Chak can handle such things?"
"If we do find the book but find it difficult to take with us, could any of you prepare either Scrivener's Chant or Memorize Page? It might afford us the opportunity to retrieve at least some of the knowledge even if we cannot take the book with us."
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"Ah, a fellow archivist. I could use both of these obscure spells if they were available in a scroll form. But, unfortunately, it is outside of my capabilities to copy more than a couple of pages at a time. And if the book indeed teaches you how to fight with your mind, I doubt it is that short. I prefer to live by the sword, and on the edge of what is possible, but even I think we shouldn't rely on something that is so meager, even if as a last resort." Gajutai smiles and bobbles his head.
Once you have seen to any last-minute purchases, the river boat Audacity hired by VC Yuul is readily found on the south bank of the Scorpion. The subsequent 12-hour cruise upstream is only as eventful as each individual makes it.
Deposited in a clandestine rainforest with no more than a nod, the barge continues north as Sarenrae just begins to spill her rays over the vast river plain. As the stars fade from the dawning sky, what was a clear night – ideal for quiet contemplation, begins its timeless transformation.
It appears to be a most promising day.
After a brief, long-distance patrol around the manor walls, the scouting party find an unarmed middle-aged gentleman dressed in fine servant’s livery sitting quietly on a mahogany chair in front of the gates.
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Seren keeps the trip rather eventful, alternating between talking the ears off the other pathfinders and talking her own ear off in various debates with her invisible friends. At one point during the night trip she wanders off to the quietest part of the ship she can find and spends an hour dancing beneath the moonlight in a rather... haunting display.
The next day after their scouting she's right on the heels of General Chak, a hand stuffed into her pocket and the other popping a fig into her mouth. "Yeah, like snake guys who look even creepier than we do. And why are you sittin' out here? Seems borin'."
The man rises slowly from his chair and bows deeply, "Strictly speaking, Good Ser a heavily armed group – not unlike yourselves to the untrained eye – in fact did NOT pass by.”
“Rather they scaled one of the manor walls before heading unannounced into the manor by way of a window.”
“It was rather rude of them, considering I was sitting here the whole time.”
The man holds out his hand politely, displaying his muscular build despite his age, "Ah, my apologies, where are my manners? I am Gamaradim Po, the caretaker of the grounds.”
“Master Passad took the time out of his schedule to forewarn me that a party of armed individuals bearing Ancient Azlanti compass devices, such as the one worn by the young lady there ...” He points at the wayfinder Seren bears.
“... from the Pathfinder Society may arrive to partake in the high-risk physical challenge currently in progress on the premises.”
“Would I be correct in presuming you are they?"
"Yeah, like snake guys who look even creepier than we do. And why are you sittin' out here? Seems borin'."
“Why to welcome the Pathfinder Society to Ghenett Manor of course, Miss.”
The 5-foot-thick walls surrounding the villa and its grounds are 15 feet high and made of a polished gray stone with artful geometric etchings covering every inch of their surface, in the style of a Qadiran palace.
The gates Gamaradim Po stands before are 17 feet high, clearly fashioned by a gifted master of metalwork. Had they color other than the black iron, one could easily mistake them for intertwined vines and sprightly fey creatures flitting through their foliage.
“As I have chosen to go into Service, I have little say in the nature of the duties I am required to perform. Though I feel fortunate to be able to state that on most days I derive considerable satisfaction from my job.”
“As for a description of the other party, one of them prominently displayed a bronze badge. Is that information helpful?”
He wears a knowing smile as he begins unlocking the gates and gestures for the party to enter. “Will you please follow me?”
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"Hey you're pretty good. And pretty nice." Seren darts up beside him as he's opening the gate, hands kept carefully at her side as she leans in very closely to consider the gates. "This is a pretty fancy place, I think my boots are goin' to dirty it." She glances down at the toes of her mismatched shoes and whispers. "I know you told me to clean them, I was just busy sleepin'."
"I'm Seren! Nice to meecha, Gate Po. I like my job a lot too, I get to go places people don't usually let me." Speak of which, the little waif hesitates at the entrance of the grounds as she resists the urge to dart off ahead and explore front lawn of the manor.
She glances at the rest of the party. "I think bronze badges mean snakes. We should follow this guy, yeah? Cause we aren't suppose to be rude."
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“Master Passad took the time out of his schedule to forewarn me that a party of armed individuals bearing Ancient Azlanti compass devices, such as the one worn by the young lady there ...” He points at the wayfinder Seren bears.
“... from the Pathfinder Society may arrive to partake in the high-risk physical challenge currently in progress on the premises.”
“Would I be correct in presuming you are they?"
Seeing no point in lying to a man who already knew who they were, Petrok confirms, We are who you say, and we are ready to face the challenges. Petrok then calls on the spirits of his mother's ancestors to aid him, in the up-coming trials.
“Will you please follow me?”
Petrok nods and follows the man. While walking, Petrok ask, I understand, you are oath-bound to perform your duties...did, your master authorize you to speak with us, about the test we're about to face?
“Oh, what a relief there are going to be no charades about your identity. I presume you are here for the book, yes?”
Did, your master authorize you to speak with us, about the test we're about to face?
Gamaradim smiles and shakes his head. “All in good time, My Lord. Forgive me, but I have been instructed to gauge your response to the Master’s hospitality before my wife answers any of your questions about the test.”
“Perhaps you would save your questions until after tea is served?”
Gamaradim opens the gates and gestures for the party to enter. “For your own safety, please remain on the cobblestone walkway.”
The paving stones continue past the gate, leading up to the villa's great double doors. To the south, there is a turnaround for carriages and other forms of conveyance.
To the north is a crystal-clear pond. You notice about three dozen fanciful fish floating on the surface, their formerly colorful scales now ragged. Two arrows stick in the ground on the southeastern edge of the pond and the black-feathered shafts of four other such missiles can be seen protruding above the surface of the pond. At a glance, no other traces remain of what appears to have been some strange act of vandalism.
The manor doors are made of thick teak and are carved with scenes depicting the acquisition and trading of vast quantities of coffee, ivory, gold and diamonds.
A pair of fat, solid gold rings hang from the mouths of efreet-like heads firmly affixed to each double door. Chak and Gajutai readily identify these as extraordinarily expensive door knockers. The doors themselves have no lock. Gamaradim simply turns the iron handles, wonderfully wrought to mimic blooming roses, to offer you entry to the mansion.
“I think my boots are goin' to dirty it... I know you told me to clean them, I was just busy sleepin'.”
“Miss Seren, if I may be so bold. If you care to wipe your feet before entering the manor, it would be my pleasure to thoroughly clean your footwear before your ordeal begins. Perhaps while my wife Rhyna is serving you in the Drawing Room?”
The man-servant leads you through an opulent entry hall -- a once proudly appointed place. Walnut wooden panelling lines the walls, upon which the heads of unusual and exotic animals are proudly displayed. Sumptuous leather divans, priceless Katapeshi carpets and ancient statues of sphinxes and angels - each bearing distinctly Tian features - are overseen by a round panel of exquisite stained glass.
Clear signs of violence now mar the room: divans are overturned and charred, a statue has been reduced to rubble, and the carpet is torn and ragged as if hacked at with knives.
“Welcome to Ghenett Manor, or perhaps more aptly, to the Ghenett Manor Gauntlet. If you would follow me into the drawing room, Rhyna is preparing Da Hong Pao tea for a more traditional introduction and to answer any questions you may have.”
It sells for around 35,000gp per ounce.
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Gajutai is fascinated by the rich adornments of the manor entry chambers and glances over most of the minor details. But speaking Tian, and hailing from around the region, he recognizes the name of the tea. Hie eyebrow ridges rise: "Oh-sss, sweet voices of Shelyn, I've heard tales of that tea. It costs three fortunes and is harder still to procure, but the interred would say it is worth it. Even catching a smell of it would make this humble servant of the Arts proud. Thank you for the invitation, Master Po. If you don't mind, how long is it that you work in this fine manor?"
“I have had the honor of serving at Ghenett Manor for the past three years, ten months, four days and twenty-one hours, Ser.”
Gam turns from the drawing room doorway to stand at attention while addressing Gajutai. “Approximately.”
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"I appreciate your offer of hospitality, generosity, and kindness, but we are under strict orders not to take anything from this manor save, except, and barring the book for which we'd come. I'm afraid accepting the tea would be contradictory, at odds and antithetical to our order, even if you are giving it willingly."
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After introducing himself with a bow and a flourish, Lathlo follows along, taking in the opulence, keeping an eye out for anything else that is amiss...as well as keeping an eye on Seren, especially when near any valuables of small girth.
"Indeed, as my fellow pathfinder Chak says, we are here for the book, and would prefer to proceed to this gauntlet. The uninvited guest should never overstay his welcome--though your offer of hospitality is appreciated. You mentioned your wife having information for us. If you could be so kind as to make introductions, we would be most obliged."
After a brief pause, Lathlo adds, almost as an afterthought.
"oh, and speaking of this gauntlet, are you and/or your wife part of the gauntlet, or merely carefakers of the manor?"
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Seren doesn’t seem to notice he extended scrutiny of her companions, instead she’s busy surveying the entryway, hands clasped behind her back. She alternates between muttering and letting it a low whistle as she decides the place is wrecked. Turning back to their guide she will extend out a boot in his direction, wiggling the foot. ”You don’t need to fix’em, your place got messed up good. A lil trail dirt ain’t gonna make a difference.”
She gives Gajutai a screwed up look of confusion when he waxes about the tea, but quickly turns to pantomiming a salute from behind Chak as she chimes in. ”Yeah, I promised the boss I wouldn’t touch nothin’ except the book so you wouldn’t get mad... and I don’t really like tea... or getting yelled at. But thanks Gate Po!”. She gives the air beside herself a wink.
Gamaradim looks curiously from Chak to Lathlo and Seren in turn. “Forgive me Lady and Sers, perhaps I have failed to make my station clear – for which I profoundly apologize.”
“As members of the Pathfinder Society you are invited guests of the Prophet of Kalistrade Temel Passad, who has instructed my wife and I to treat you to the hospitality we would any guest of our Master.”
“As a servant it is unthinkable that a guest would need my permission to activate their own magic item.”
“Similarly you need make no excuses for your actions. You may accept or reject the Master’s hospitality as you see fit – how each individual behaves under the Master’s roof is none of my concern.”
“Oh, and speaking of this gauntlet, are you and/or your wife part of the gauntlet, or merely caretakers of the manor?”
“Indirectly we are, Ser.”
The caretaker gestures at the shambles in the Entry Hall Seren has mentioned. “Once the event has concluded, we are to clean up the mess and dispose of the bodies.”
“You mentioned your wife having information for us. If you could be so kind as to make introductions, we would be most obliged.”
“This way then, Ser. If you please.”
Gamaradim leads the group through a set of doors to the west. A rich maroon rug of Tian manufacture with dizzying geometric patterns filling its thick pile runs down the middle of this charming room. Fine silk cushions stuffed with goose-down lie before a low Cherrywood table. The walls are similarly adorned with hand-painted silk, upon which floral patterns provide the backdrop to scenes of Minkaen aristocrats at work and play -- clearly the work of a master artisan.
Diffusing tea in this room is a sandy blonde-haired woman of roughly 30 years old. She wears garments matching those of her husband. "This is my wife, Rhyna Po."
“If there is nothing else, I will withdraw to await any further participants in the contest. Pathfinders, it was a pleasure to serve you. I wish you good fortune in your trials.” The man waits courteously for a moment to ensure his services are no longer required, before taking leave of the room.
Rhyna bows and gestures at the pillows lining the floor. "It is a pleasure to meet you. The tea will be ready momentarily."
True to her word, she returns shortly to place a fine set tea set on a platinum tray holding a boiling porcelain kettle on the exquisite table. Each individual is offered a napkin monogrammed with Temel's initials and a matching porcelain cup.
Once the tea is drawn, Rhyna kneels on the floor offering a toast before taking her first sip. “Lady and gentlemen, to the Pathfinder Society.”
“Now, I assume you have questions?”
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"The pleasure is all ours, Madame Po. We were hoping to have a few moments of your time. As for questions, I have many, but let us begin with the obvious: are you expecting more participants? We were led to believe there were just the two interested parties, the Pathfinders and the hideously unscrupulous Aspis Consortium. Then, of course, the two most obvious questions: would you be so kind as to hand over the Manual of Mutani? And if you've finished with your ambassadorial lessons for Dr Bestah, could we take him with us as well?"
Lathlo offers her a winning smile.
“I’m not sure who gave you that information, Ser. But the Gauntlet is an event open to anyone – though I understand the Pathfinder Society were the first invited to compete.”
Rhyna demurely averts her line-of-sight while tea is delivered to all accepting guests, as is customary for the hostess at a formal Minkaen tea party.
“To my knowledge, this is the first time Master Passad has held anything resembling this contest anywhere in the Inner Sea. As such I had no expectations that anyone would pick up the gauntlet – though Gam was convinced the Pathfinder Society would rise to the challenge.”
“I regret that I do not know whether the Mutani Manual is even under Ghenett Manor’s roof, Ser.”
“I can tell you that the guest rooms are currently vacant. Gam was instructed to house the person of whom you speak where his endless expertise would be most appreciated.”
"Unfortunately bringing the good doctor directly to the first person who asked goes beyond the expected courtesy my Master intended us to display. The challenge would also be patently lessened if I had been authorized to perform that act, would it not?"
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Petrok, looks to Chak Yuen Chen as the tea is brought forth and nods to him. My companion is correct, it would not be wise for us to partake of this wonderful offer...however, generous it may be.
After refusing the tea Petrok listens carefully.
“I regret that I do not know whether the Mutani Manual is even under Ghenett Manor’s roof, Ser.”
“I can tell you that the guest rooms are currently vacant. Gam was instructed to house the person of whom you speak where his endless expertise would be most appreciated.”
"Unfortunately bringing the good doctor directly to the first person who asked goes beyond the expected courtesy my Master intended us to display. The challenge would also be patently lessened if I had been authorized to perform that act, would it not?"
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Gajutai gingerly picks up the porcelain cup. Refusing the hospitality of the house would be a deathly offense in a lot of cultures he's familiar with, as well as in the one he grew in, so he frowns a little looking at all the ones who did so.
The skald cradles a cup for some time in his palm, inhaling the aroma. He takes a small sip.
"Indeed, it is splendid, Madame Po." he sighs putting the cup back on the monogrammed napkin.
"If you don't mind me asking, how long is it that you work for Master Passad, you and your husband?" he starts as if trying to keep the innocent conversation flowing. "I remember one of my friends telling me about the dear servant of theirs, whose description, I now think, sounds a lot like you. I don't remember the story in detail, but I recall that the steel chain was given as a parting gift, to be worn close to their heart. Or something along those lines. I don't think it was you, but what would the odds be? I'd be shocked by the coincidence."
The nagaji watches for the signs of Madame Po's reaction on her face.
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Seren watches Gamaradim go, and then moment he's departed from the tea room she shudders. "Gotta remember not to be a body today, Chaucer. I don't want to be disposed." She takes the time the tea is being prepared as a chance to slink about the edge of the room looking at the hangings, but they only keep her distracted briefly before she wanders over to the low table to peer over Rhyna's shoulder at the display. "I mean, I'm all for gettin' stuff the easy way, but I think she's right. If she were just gonna give us anythin' it'd be pretty borin', and we already had a pretty borin' boat ride to put up with."
Seren makes it a point to keep her hands behind her back, never quite touching anything in the room as she shuffles forward so she's beside their host instead of behind. "Hey Tea Po, if the manual WERE here, what room do ya think your boss would keep it in? He got... a study or somethin'?"
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"It never hurts--well, it rarely hurts--to ask, and some times the solution is the most obvious one. And speaking of obvious solutions, would there be any stables on the premises? Or perhaps a dank basement? Or perhaps you could merely share the location of the privies?" Lathlo asks, pondering where he might stash a rude guest where he would be 'most appreciated.'
"Oh, and is there anything more you can tell us of the challenges of this gauntlet? What type of guardians or traps we might expect? Is your master fond of any particular kind of creatures, magicks or . . . poisons?"