Again her hand covers her mouth. She tries to cover herself. She wears a flustered smile. “Not that we are, um, talking about love. Um, yet I mean. Or at all. We should, um, return downstairs. I don’t want Caroline or Emmy to worry.” She grabs at hand of Halcyon. She stops before returning inside. “Thank you Halcyon. It is good to have a friend like you.”
Halcyon takes a lingering look at some firework's trail of embers fading into the night. She lets her attention to this detail make it appear as if she did not notice Caroline's last verbal hiccup. She stands and before leaving replies to Caroline, "Growing up, I had very few chances to meet people outside my family, so I had no friends. So I value friends more than gold today. You are a lovely person and I can see that you have not yet completely bloomed, so the world has a lot of look forward to."
Before leaving the balcony, Halcyon stands in the doorway back into the mansion and scans the room, concerned that there might be someone at the party who perhaps is not happy that she revealed so much about the crime and seeks revenge.
"I will take that as a yes. I would ask Halcyon but I do not know where she went off too." Seth looks around the room for a moment before turning back to Raphael and Marcus. "It does not matter. We won't be leaving until a few more of my men arrive." Seth looks around the room one more time before giving up for now and enjoying the conversation and stories. Lucia is at Seth's side, enjoying the conversation along with him, not talking much. She seems exhausted and ready to leave.
Raphael shakes his head, chuckling ruefully, "I think I may well have stuck my foot in my mouth. I see Seth, and I'm one to know a good excuse to gather my thoughts when they present themselves. Give me a moment to see what he wants and then we can resume this discussion with gusto. I have the feeling I may be left bleeding and stripped of my lawyer status by the end of it. That may well be worth it, of course."
Raphael listens to Seth as he communicates Helmuth's message, after responding , he makes his leisurely way back to where Estelle stands. He runs a contemplative finger down his right cheekbone, mulling over his arguments. Finding himself standing before the outstretched arm of the young woman, he offers his own for her to hook through, saying, "I most certainly would not miss it. A few blocks may be sufficient, depending on how slowly we walk, but we may annoy Seth's poor soldiers. We may have to continue this conversation another time, over coffee perhaps? There's a very admirable cafe overlooking the Park near the Upper Judicial affairs building. I'm a common patron when I am busy with a case in the area."
Caroline is caught off guard by Halcyon's kind words. She struggles to respond to the compliment. She smiles wide, offering a quiet thanks. “Emmy is the same way. He says that friends are few and far between but gold passes from one hand to another each and every day.” Halcyon’s pause to look around yields nothing. Caroline glances at her, and looks down the hallway past what Halcyon can see. “Did you see something?” It appears the two oracles are still alone. There is a silence as Caroline hops to the glass doors. As she closes them and the gap outside shrinks narrow, the wind picks up with a sharp howl until it is silenced at the doors’ union. Caroline flicks the lock.
Caroline guides Halcyon downstairs, through the eastern staircase for their descent. She moves slow, careful to not rush Halcyon. They reach the lounge room. It still has a glass of wine half-filled from dinner. A harp gilded in gold leaf lies in the corner of the room, no longer plucked by a servant. Caroline guides Halcyon south to a room adorned in family crests, hanging scrolls, suits of armor, painted shields, decorative weapons and robed mannequins. One mannequin wears a turban much like Halcyon’s, comprised of dark fabrics and gemmed with a small nail-sized opal. Caroline’s pace quickens as they enter the room. “Family items. I’m told Father went through great length to find them.” She looks straight to the exit, not paying any mind to the items on the walls and display cases.
Her pace slows once she sees outside to the upper vestibule, where the young Captain stands vigilant. She walks beside Halcyon instead of in front of her. Helmuth’s head jerks to the oracles briefly, alarmed by their presence, but he returns his attention to those below.
Helmuth waits for the oracles to come to the stairs, waiting for a brief pause in their conversation before he speaks. He doesn’t look to either of them as he talks. “Thank you for your assistance today, Soothsayer. Though your search lead nowhere, it was admirable work. ” The words were likely meant to be kinder than how they were let out. “I’ll mention you and your friends’ services to the Colonel. I am sure she will be pleased. Unless of course,” he starts, turning to face her, “you’d prefer I don’t mention your help this evening?”
Caroline shines a smile at her brother below. Emile gives a small wave to his sister. He nudges Beatrice to look at the three of them up above. Emile whispers something to his sister and the two of them smile. Beatrice says something in return and he nods. They seem to reach an agreement.
“You acted better than most of this city does, Marcus. I am sure the man is grateful for that, and for that so am I.” She turns to Raphael. “The soldiers can wait,” she smiles. “Mercenaries aside, I’m not too familiar with the cafe, but I’ll find it. As long as it isn’t owned by Quintana, we’ll have to arrange a date to meet.” She stays close to the lawyer, not breaking her hold of him.
Nishara approaches her brother. Her glance shifts from Seth to Marcus. “I too grow tired. I’m concerned that our brother has razed the good liqueur. Concerned more that he is pouring it for free.”
Eduard watches over the party. He rises from his seat, entering into the coatroom. He grabs another chair in the room, placing it by Abigal’s corpse. He sits and hangs his head while he whispers prayers in Old Galatian.
Asfal Stormborn gives his card to the two tiefling servants and the ratfolk. He speaks quietly and away from the guests. One of the the tieflings curses and rips the card. She drops it to the floor while the others pocket their cards away from her view.
Alexander approaches the sergeant. He asks for permission to leave. She pretends not to hear his request, and focuses on the other guests.
Valentina and Ernest talk specifics on her construct. Bertrand and Alistair try to follow, but as they delve deeper into the model’s line, its range of movement, and functions, the two mages give up.
Vincent notices the oracles' return but pretends not to. His smile returns as he listens to the conversation above him. His finger traces his leather bracer.
Francis Lyon bends back as he yawns. He nears the front door, enjoying the breeze it brings.
A loud singing is heard outside. It seems Gael cannot stand the silence. Without anyone to speak to, he chants a tavern song to occupy his time.
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marcus chuckles "we could always meet at my place, we do have some quieter rooms off the main drinking hall"“You acted better than most of this city does, Marcus. I am sure the man is grateful for that, and for that so am I.” She turns to Raphael. “The soldiers can wait,” she smiles. “Mercenaries aside, I’m not too familiar with the cafe, but I’ll find it. As long as it isn’t owned by Quintana, we’ll have to arrange a date to meet.” She stays close to the lawyer, not breaking her hold of him.
** spoiler omitted **
Nishara approaches her brother. Her glance shifts from Seth to Marcus. “I too grow tired. I’m concerned that our brother has razed the good liqueur. Concerned more that he is pouring it for free.”
he snorts at his "if he did, we could always claim it was planned that way from the start, it's good publicity.... Albeit expensive publicity"
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Seeing the party begin to finally wind down and he will soon leave, he approaches the mages and Valentina, with Lucia following him as he goes. He initially speaks to Bertrand and Alistair first. "It seems as though I will be leaving soon. Our conversation before Abigail's unfortunate demise, was quite enjoyable and I hope to see you both in the future. If you would ever have need for mercenaries, I hope you will come to me first." He takes out a few business cards out from the inside of his jacket, offering to them both if they wish to take it.
Seth then waits for a break in Valentina's and Ernest's conversation before talking towards Ernest. "With how this night is going, I might take you up on your offer sooner that I thought. If you ever need me or any of my men for anything, just come and stop by." He holds out a business card again, offering it to him.
After Seth listens to each of their responses, he talks to all of them. "It was a pleasure to meet all of you, even with the bad circumstances. I wish you all a good night, and hope to see you all in the future."
Raphael chuckles at the eager look on Estelle's face as he returns, recognizing her hunger for debate. "I seems that the evening is catching up to me. I spoke with an intent to evoke of gallows humor, but my delivery left much to be desired. My views are considerably more nuanced and I'd be happy to discuss them over a cup of coffee. I think you'll find that I hold views that are not so objectionable." Raphael smiles, looking weary, with the first hint of dark bags showing under his eyes. "Shall we say our goodbyes to the host and a few of the guests and then be off to sleep? I will send a note on the morrow and we can find a date that will be mutually agreeable."
“-No Alistair, the thief was stuck in the freezer and wanted firewhiskey, there isn’t a deeper meaning that you are missing here. It is but a tale, read not too much into it.” Bertrand appears annoyed as Seth approached, likely by some interaction with Alistair.
Alistair remains persistent. “Bertrand, Bertrand, you cannot take all at face value. You’d understand if you had a guiding voice like a patron. If I took Their words literally, well…” He trails off as he remembers the whispered words of what powers him. “Well, words are meant to be interpreted after all.” The witch remains deep in his thoughts. “If only I knew what brand of whiskey he asked for…I feel as though that is the solution to this riddle’s meaning…” Bertrand wipes his face with his hand. He seems to have given up.
Seth leaves his words and his cards with the Witch and the Sorcerer. Alistair takes the card enthusiastically, though Bertrand seems to take it out of kindness. “Wonderful, I’ve a few artifacts lost in Murgleis! I’ve been meaning to start an expedition for them. Family matters being resolved was one of my resolutions, after all.”
“Pray I never need to call on the favor of a mercenary,” Bertrand says with a smile. “Take no offense, but I find the need to call on such men to be a symbol of dark times.” He puts the card into his robes. “But it seems dark times are inevitable. I’ll think of no one more should matters be too far outside my control.”
Ernest asks a variety of trivia questions to the clockwork construct. Valentina chuckles as it retorts the answer to each question. The dwarf finally finds one that puzzles the clockwork man. “Know the words to trigger the fabled Joyeuse?” The construct does not respond, but twists its head to Valentina. She shrugs. Ernest grins widely as he combs his beard. He answers victoriously. “ 'Show your colors.’ Add that to yer memory, metal man. Be ones of the few in Durendal to remember that li’l ole fact.”
Seth approaches the dwarf, making mention of enchanting arms and hiring off men. Ernest seems deeply honored. He gladly accepts the card. “Aye. Some o’ me project could use some protection in transit. Worry when we send ‘em off ‘cross Durendal, brigands could raise hell with a two story tall golem...” He smiles at the Mercenary, glancing to the soldier’s blade. “Ever need me to chant that one in the future, you got my card. First one’ll be at cost, how’s that?” The dwarf seems happy between his talks with Valentina and Seth.
Estelle grins at Marcus. "A bar may be a bit loud for the conversation I imagine. I would be afraid I'd resort to screaming quicker than I usually do." She smiles once more. "You'll find me there soon enough. Perhaps I won't even be on a philanthropic mission while I am there." It is unclear if that last comment was a joke or not.
Estelle remains close to Raphael. She trails his voice with words of her own, seldom allowing a pause to grow between them. “The gallow’s humor? Are we still sure you aren’t the villain? Am I blissfully unaware that 'cafe' means someplace sinister?” She chuckles as she squeezes his arm. “Over coffee I will agree to allow you to explain. I’d take a cup now to take the edge off, even if it meant not sleeping until three. Let us say our goodbyes to Emile. He must at least be thanked for his attempt at joyously inviting a new year.” She follows Raphael’s steps to Emile.
Emile spots Raphael, and hastily makes his way towards a nearby chair. From it he take a bottle of wine, placed earlier in the night by Raphael. He scurries back to Raphael and Estelle. “Departing I take it? It’d be a sin to leave this here.” Emile gives Raphael the bottle of wine, the second time he has done so this evening. His mouths shapes into a smile, his teeth appearing as a thin crescent behind his parted lips. “You are always welcome, friend. Come again, won’t you? My home offers more than just wine cellars and smoke lounges. I’m sure there is some room here that will interest you.” Emile shakes Raphael's hand firmly.
Estelle’s face betrays her, freezing in surprise before warping into a facade of a smile. “We’ll both have to, Emile. Stop by next time, an invitation is a tad too formal for my tastes.” She exhales deeply when she bows, collecting herself. As she rises, she attempts to recover her nerve. After Raphael says his closing words, she pulls him away. “He doesn’t - He couldn’t know, right? And that,” she says gesturing to the bottle, “what was that for? Created quite the impression I take it?” Estelle smiles. She has enough topics of conversation to last her the evening and then some.
A few minutes of idle chatter pass. Most of the guest are in pairs or triplets, keeping close to those they have trusted throughout the evening. Despite the high spirits Marcus may have left them in, it seems they remain wary of one another. Halcyon approaches Agatha Agnes, bringing up the possibility of song. She asks for the time, aloud, and Valentina answers. Eleven fifty-seven. “Perfect timing, dear. This’ll end just as the New Year starts.” Agatha quickly moves in dance-like motions, chanting in a voice that rings like bells. Something changes in her, she sparkles with a strange, alluring quality that consumes those around her. It is hard to break one’s gaze away from her, harder even not to take in her voice.
Agatha clears her throat with a petite cough. When she turns to song, the foyer turns silent, conversations abruptly cease and heads turn in almost an instant. Agatha’s voice is a choir of angels. The words ring familiar, a honeyed song that invite others to join her. “Faut-il nous quitter sans espoir, Sans espoir de retour” Her brother follows in a low modulated voice, surprising sounds from such a thin man. “Faut-il nous quitter sans espoir, De nous revoir un jour.” Soon others follow suit. The mages join, Alistair taking shrill off-key highs, Ernest bellowing his words deep and baritone. The Guard quickly jumps on the fourth line, the charge lead by Helmuth himself from the balcony above. They don’t sing so much as they yell.
The scattered and assorted guests begin to chime in. Tomas knows the words, but his accent is off. He smiles widely regardless. Emile joins the song, though his sister Beatrice is clearly the better, more competent singer. Caroline hums the words, swaying to the chorus with an arm around Halcyon. Alexander joins, though his voice is lost in the tempest of the gathered singers. Even the servants lend their voices. It is soul soothing to be in harmony with forty others. Eduard glances up for but a moment from the deceased Abigal before he resumes prayer. “Car l'idéal qui nous rassemble, Saura nous réunir...
After Agatha lets go of the final note of the the song, after her voice trails away in the echoes of the room, the foyer turns into a cacophony of applause, blissful cheering, whoops and laughter. As the cries of happiness fade, the roar of distant fireworks is heard. They cry out distant whistles, scream snapping pops and roar thunderous booms to the Midnight. It is a new day, it is a new year. As the spirits begin to mellow once more, the fleeting party returns to the coat room for their belongings.
Eduard ignores them as they pass, head hung over Abigal as he whispers rapid murmurs asking for forgiveness and repentance, broken up heavy words choked on feelings and farewells. The party prepare for the trek home, donning warm coats lined in exotics furs and carefully woven fabrics. They place bags over their shoulders, securing their belongings. They makes tired smiles at one another, happy to be in the company of friends in their voyage back home.
Halcyon, Seth, Lucia, Raphael, Marcus, Valentina, Estelle and Nishara all wait in the foyer, huddled together ready to go. They are a bit too warm, but cherish it while it lasts. Outside a growing rhythmic rumble roars, the quick clop of horses. At their loudest they comes to a stop, and their steps are replaced by that of armored men and women. Three Varianna Mercenary arrive at the door, saluting Seth as they find him. The first holds a lance in her arm, vigilantly looking across the room as she receives her orders. A small Half-Elf man repeats each order back to Seth. He nods furiously each time Seth confirms what they both said. The last appears like a bulwark, coated in countless plates of steel, each marked in scratches and cuts. Their race, gender and appearance all hide behind their thick armor.
Helmuth wears a lasting grin as he calls the three of them for a debriefing. The Mercenaries all nod to their lord before rising the stairs, taking their exact orders from the Captain. Estelle wraps a thin fabric belt around her jacket. The coat reaches her knees though her dress trails to her ankles. She matches the steps of Raphael as they walk towards the open door, Those who don’t leave say their farewells. Most take a moment to smile at the retreating faces, though as the party turns to the door and walks into the streets of Roland, the conversations resume.
END CHAPTER ONE: “LITTLE LOVE LOST”
“Gods, it is cold,” Estelle remarks with a shiver. As she speaks into the cold air, her breathe shapes into wispy vapors in front of her. She buttons her jacket to her collar. “Glad I have a shorter walk than you all. I’m one for company, but if it was a few minutes longer, I’d have opted to stay at Emile’s till morning.” She smiles, she had no intention of staying there. The party walks past Gael, who offers a salute to Seth. The party makes steps south, their footsteps on the cobbled Parc Mur Avenue filling the silences between their chatter.
The city glow pale. Aimless, drunk figures hobble distant from one another. Silent and still vagrants gather together in alleys, curled over for warmth. Dignified faces lighted by cigarettes and outlined by torches look down from their apartments above. The shapes of men flicker in and out of the city’s lights. They are shapeless in their cloaks of darkness, given form as they sprint by street lamps, and once more fade to black in the city’s umbras. At times fireworks bloom far away, forming shadows that stretch across Roland, birthing long, disjointed dark monsters from those still on the street. Sometimes they bloom from above, hiding the faces of the wanderers, creating heavy, unassuming darkness beneath them.
As the party heads south, cackles of laughter seem to follow them. A hound barks endlessly, irked to no end it seems from something. Shouts seem to silence it for a moment, but it resumes. Glass shatters somewhere, followed by a roar of applause. A pair of men walk by wearing caps, muttering to each other. While they hide their hair, their golden eyes betray their Galatian heritage. “Stop worrying ‘bout a folk tale” says the first. He is loud enough that he is heard thirty paces before passing him. “Even so, look,” he continues, pointing to the sky. “It ain’t full, so stop your worrying.” He is right, peeking through a veil of clouds, the moon hangs large though waning. The second pipes up. “Mother taught me to be wary is all.” The pair crosses the party. They pretend not to notice, though the first man’s hand goes to his pockets. Past the party the first man resumes. “Taught you to be scared of nothing is what she did.” Their speech is incomprehensible as they fade away from view.
Estelle flicks a finger in the direction of a row of apartments. “My stop,” she says quietly. She faces Raphael, but she speaks to include the entire party. “An interesting night, you’ll all agree? One I don’t think I’ll ever forget.” She chuckles lightly, but it seems forced. Her mind is elsewhere. “Let us not forget good women and men can make a difference. Let us resolve to be those good women and men.” She gives a light squeeze to Raphael’s hand.
Estelle fiddles with the lock for a few moments before entering inside. With a word, the lights crawl to life in her apartment. It appears to be rather messy inside. Cluttered with open books piled upon each other. Jackets and coats thrown hastily by the door. She turns with a smile, looking almost worried at the party. “Travel safe.” She shuts the door. It clicks as it locks.
The eastward road to the Tall Tail Inn is seems more lively than Parc Mur Avenue. Gangs of loud citizens walk the streets in troops sometimes larger than the party. Occasionally an armored squad of Guardsmen weave in and out of view. Sometimes they break up packs of loiterers, sometimes they stand vigilant in front of apartments. In an alley, two Guardsmen hold their blades cautiously beside a covered figure on a stretcher. Long threads of golden hair peek out from the blanket. The Guards wave the party along with a swift fanning of their steel. “Keep your eyes forward. Return to your homes.” The other Guardsman’s face is ghost white.
Two blocks pass over the course of the next ten minutes. Most faces in the crowd are unremarkable. Roland’s every-men and women. A scattered few appear wealthier, usually guarded by armed protectors. Mercenaries, Guard, mages. They will be safe for the night.
A resounding boom travels through the street, quickly followed by three roaring echoes. Not fireworks, the sky remains a stagnant gradient of amber to deep, dark purple. Thunder perhaps, though it rains naught. Maybe gunfire, yet not followed by the typical screams that trail behind their volley.
A few buildings off from the tavern now. The sounds of merriment can be heard clear, even a few hundred feet away. Happy shouts, loud drunken toasts, a warm bed. Just a few hundred feet away. And so the Tall Tail Inn beckons, though a glisten in an alley offers an invitation as well. Strung up against a building wall is a large mirror, perhaps three feet wide by six feet high. It’s shape is impeccable, a lustrous, blemishless surface. It is polished reflective like deep, dark calm waters. The mirror is lined with finished wood, carved with intricate floral patterns and stained mahogany.
Valentina pokes her head into the entrance of the alley. She doesn't take a step in however. "Shrine of a back alley narcissist. That is my guess." The grand mirror should be worth a small fortune, a mundane mirror of its size is beyond the wealth of the common Roland man. Why someone would leave it behind, let alone nail it to an outside wall, escapes your mind. The reflective metal of the mirror distorts the image of the alley into a sinister, warped place. It remains cold on the streets of Roland, and there seems to be no one within the area. The Mirror raises questions, but the Inn offers safety, and a warm embrace.
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"Well now... What have we here?" Marcus says, approaching it only so as to get close enough to have the mirror within the range of his magical sight and tries to not to appear in the reflective surface as much as possible.
""Hmm transmutation aura, no damage to mirror itself but minor damage to base, seemingly from a small animal... Attacking the reflective surface? Hmm the spell on the mirror is probably a hardening spell, or maybe some kind of repair spell, but I don't know why animals would attack a mirror..."
Marcus takes steps into the alleyway, his sister following a few steps behind. She takes a quick glance to the rest of the party, wondering if they will follow. As Marcus comes closer, the shapes it reflects dance crookedly. From a distance, Marcus takes in what he can. He calls out that there seems someone placed a spell upon it, and that there are some scratches by the base.
The mirror remains elusive in its purpose. Were someone at the opposite end of the alley to peer at the polished metal, a tortured, corrupted Marcus would greet them with a twisted look. Perhaps the warps and bends of the mirror would make this Marcus appear haunted by despair. Maybe he'd appear with a wicked grin and wild eyes. Maybe he would no longer appear human. It appears the party remains alone, and that no one watches the man in the mirror.
It is 12:20AM on the First Day of the New Year.
Seth takes a few steps forward, with his horse's reins in his hand with Lucia atop the horse. "This is not what I was expecting to see on my way home." He lets go of the reins and holds his hand up so the horse stays and he walks a bit closer. "Anyone want to see what happens if I move it or do something to it?"
Raphael doesn't try to suppress a bark of laughter at Estelle's quipping, "I suppose our intrepid heroine will simply have to find out if I am or am not a villain, won't she? The cafe at least isn't sinister though and I think you'll find you can come to like it."
With Estelle on his arm, Raphael inclines his head to Emile, studying the man as he accepts the bottle of wine. Yes, even after having been shaken tonight, it is interesting that he can be some damned subtly confusing. Are you a threat or aren't you? I suppose that is the question. He returns the man's seedy smile with a genuine one of his own. "I'm certain to see you again shortly given your proclivity for throwing these parties." The Abadaran lawyer hefts his 'retainer', continuing, "And of course, there is certain business we will need to attend to. I'm sure we will look forward to speaking to one another soon."
A quirk of Raphael's eyebrows give away that he is surprised by Emile's choice of words. Alarmed even.
A contemplative frown replacing his generally easy smile, Raphael shakes his head in reply to Estelle's question, "I doubt that there is any reason for concern. I doubt he knows. As for the bottle, it is a gift for services rendered this evening. I advised him regarding his servant's rights and this wine served as payment. We'll see if he wishes to continue the relationship. I wouldn't mind being able to keep an eye on him." Raphael soothingly pats the hand Estelle has slipped through his arm, "Worry not about him for now. There's little he'll be able to do with the Guard snooping so carefully through his home."
The first striking notes of the song draw Raphael's eyes to the silvery haired Agatha. A smile springs to his face and he joins in with the voice trained more for oratory then for singing. His own tenor voice is lost in the crowd. As the final notes fall away, he says in a quiet voice to Estelle, "Bonne année et bonne santé!"
Distracted, Raphael doesn't notice the shimmering mirror in the alley until it's pointed out to him by Valentina. Studying the fine handywork and hearing Marcus begin to recite the magical properties of the thing, Raphael studies the mirror more intently. "I suppose you know better then I would, Marcus. I noticed the scuffs, but little else. Do we have any idea who would abandon such a thing in the alleyway? It must surely be worth near enough to a king's ransom. If you wish to move it, I have no objections, Seth."
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"Hardly a king's ransom, but maybe a mayor's child, unless something is fooling my divinations, hardly impossible, but it would require more magics, and just make it all the more unlikely that someone would just leave it. And even with it not exactly being a 'king's ransom' it would still fetch for quite a bit on the material and workmanship alone, not to mention the unknown magical properties... Perhaps we should take it to the bar and store it somewhere out of the way, and ask the guard if anyone has reported anything like this to be missing or stolen, and in the meantime I can have a friend of mine from the mage's guild examine it more closely and with more expirence than I am able to bring to bear"
Half the party has inspected the mirror now. Valentina’s ears perk up on mention of a fortune. She twists her head to look up and down the street. “Ransom of kings or not, a nice hand mirror is worth a dozen gold coins. And this is at least ten time larger.” She takes steps into the alley, walking past the rest of the group and arriving at the mirror. She looks into it, presumably at her own reflection, and grins.
She spins her head back to her friends, speaking with uncertainty. “Five platinum coins. That is what I'd sell it for.” Nishara shakes her head faintly. She doesn't agree with the price. She stays by Marcus, wary of the mirror.
Seth takes a few more steps forward and looks into the mirror before placing his hand on the mirror. "I hope something bad doesn't happen. I like my hand where it is."
She will cast detect magic to see if she can discern anything the Marcus might miss.
Halcyon moves cautiously toward the mirrors as others do. She has exhausted her ability to enter a focused trance, to gain more information, but she wants to do something to contribute to the unraveling of the mystery. She wracks her brain, trying to think of some magical use a mirror could be put to, or some legend or lore involving mirrors.
If she's not able to help with any ideas from spellcraft or history, Halcyon will at least point out the obvious that mirrors are often used to scry on a location. "Usually, the mirror is in the location with the scryer, not out where the target of scrying is, but perhaps this has been enchanted to give a view of whatever is in front of it to another such mirror. Of course, if it shows no enchantments, ...." Her voice trails off. "Perhaps it functioned as a gate whose magic enchantment vanished after the gate was used?"
She tries to think of which local craftspeople could make such a large mirror.
As far as the mirror’s creators, there are few that could make such a work. The wood appears to have been engraved by hand, the the metal surface of the mirror appears to have been painstakingly polished to remove all hints of blemishes and warps. Most likely the mirror was created as a special order by a local Guild, possibly for an aristocrat of Roland.
Valentina steps aside as Seth reaches the mirror. “We’ll have to settle how we’ll split the sale. I think I can fetch the most for it, maybe even work it’s pieces into an elegant Golem.” The woman’s eyes brighten as she thinks about it.
As Seth states that he likes his hand where it is, it passes through the mirror’s surface. It disappears, the mirror giving a faint ripple as his hand passes through. He feels a tingle that reaches to his elbow. Astonished, the mercenary looks up. An astounded Seth mirrors a bewildered gaze. Seth’s hand feels warm past the mirror. Cozy, even. There is no soft, chilling breeze on his hand, but the rest of his body shivers as the wind passes the alley. As he tries to wiggle his fingers, he still feels their movement. His hand isn’t gone, but it certainly isn’t where it was, where it should be, or where Seth would like it.
Valentina shows alarm at first, but a smile appears to her face. “No screaming? Guessing I won't be making you a prosthetic?”
Her voice trails off. "Perhaps it functioned as a gate whose magic enchantment vanished after the gate was used?"
Seeing Seth's hand move through the mirror, Halcyon adds, softly,"Sometimes it gets old being right all the time." Then louder. "Seth! Pull your hand back and let's take this to a different place. If it's a gate, whoever ... or whatever came through may be back to try to return. We should have some mercenaries or guards here to capture whomever that may be. This has to be related to the attacks on Galatians! We should move through the gate to see what is on the other side, but only when we've had a chance to gather our resources." She is speaking uncharacteristically fast. Her former weary posture has been replaced with an upright and agitated stance.
Seth pulls his hand back and moves it around for second to still make sure it is still there. "I can hold onto it if you all want? I have a store room I can put it in, under lock and key." As Seth talks he looks around to the other side of the mirror, curious as to what he might see.
There is nothing behind the mirror. It seems engraved wood around the back of the mirror. Several thick cords of metal wire hang loosely from the back. Scratches line the back of the mirror, small cuts and marks likely from when it was placed upon walls. A magical object would have no such marks on it.
Seth gives a quick test of all his fingers. His hand works as it always has. It quickly adjusts back to the cold outdoors. He gives a small push to the mirror, and the object hardly moves. It is heavy. The polished metal must be at least an half inch thick. It wouldn't surprise you if the mirror is over three hundred pounds. Seth could likely lift it on his own, but between his armor and the weight of the mirror, he couldn't move very far without help. He could likely drag it at the expense of the wood lining mirror's edge.
"My Clockwork Servant can carry it." Valentina smiles and snaps her fingers. The clockwork man whirs to life. It places two arms on opposite sides of the mirror. The gears spin a bit faster as it raises the mirror. It's other two arms secure the base. Something clicks within it, and its arms turn rigid in its hold of the mirror. It turns, mirror facing the wall now. It's head twists, now looking to its back, and its three legs seem to walk just as well backwards as forwards. It hauls the mirror behind it, taking a couple cautionary steps to see if it will hold. It does.
Valentina grins at Halcyon, Nishara and Lucia. Her hands are crossed in front of her, feeling cold but accomplished. "Why do we even bring the boys with us? I say replace them with what does the job better." The clockwork man hums quietly as it awaits orders.
"Best we secure this inside, perhaps the Tale. We can have someone ride to alert the guard and the guild, although at this time of night... on a holiday ... not sure if anyone will be at the guild. Some of us should keep an eye on the mirror and some should stake-out this location, to see if anyone or anything returns here expecting to find the mirror."
Halcyon sighs. "So much for getting any sleep tonight."
"I might be able to get a man or two to watch the mirror or this alley for us. And then we could watch the other. I doubt alerting the guard to this would do much right now since they are so tied down right by the number of murders across the city." Seth walks back towards his horse as he talks and grabs the reins.
“We’ll sleep in and miss a prayer. Tomorrow is Sunday afterall, and I don't plan on working.” Valentina spreads a smile. She doesn’t seem as tired as the others. She begins down the alley as she chimes: “Though I suppose today is Sunday. Technicalities aside, there's no rest for the wicked.” She holds out a finger before the clockwork man can begin to follow her. She overturns anything suspicious with her boot, brushing aside loose cobbles and trash. With her height she peeks her head up to the windows, looking for light or signs of life. She finds none.
The end of the passage is a thin, perpendicular road. Valentina reaches it and peers both ways. With a quick display she turns back around, returning to the others. “Spotted a little cafe, lover-boy,” she jests with a jab at Raphael's side, “next time we’re confronted with murder you can plan a date for there as well.” Valentina grins, snapping her fingers once more. The construct drones with a mechanical hum of ticks, whizzes and grinds as it takes a step. She meets with it before it takes another. “Carry on this rate Seth, you'll have a boy on every street corner. The Tale then? With or without our spoils?” she asks.