Wealday, Erastus 5, 4708 A.R.
The sun rises over Korvosa as it has for three centuries. Today is a day much like any other in Korvosa. The King has fallen ill, but most people are more worried about their daily lives (and perhaps looking forward to the upcoming Founding Festival) than the goings-on of in Castle Korvosa. The men and women of the city wake and go about their work, struggling to get ahead.
Ah, off to another day at Baker's Scrivening House off Sunrise. Old man Baker's been on my case lately for coming in late. What can I say? Shandra keeps me up at night. She's nearly twice my height and outweighs me by 80 lbs. She lovingly (I hope) teases me about telling her husband. I prefer a different kind of leverage from her, though. What was I talking about?
Oh yeah. The job at Baker's doesn't pay as well as I would like, but we've saved nearly enough to get out of the flat off the Jeggare. Mother can't stand the fish stink and Pop is constantly reminded of the bad times a year or two back. I love it. It reminds me of the days when I was free and working as a dock rat. Sometimes you need a fellow who can slip into a 10 inch opening and shuffle some crates about. Mother wasn't too pleased by my working there, but it did increase my vocabulary, sometimes to her chagrin.
I saw Shem running off to work the incoming ships this morning. The lad wasn't much bigger than me when we worked at the docks and shared my love of a good trick. Now he's turning into a big fellow and I don't know that I like the changes the hard life is writing on him. He'll still be a good man if I have anything to say about it.
Baker's just hired some Osirion devil to build a printing machine for him. I just happened to glance at the balance sheets when Baker had stepped out for his constitutional one morning and couldn't believe the price he's paying. Pop and mother could be set up very nicely in the Hills for that kind of money. To be rich...
Late again! Baker'll have my hide for sure this time!
Karista's eyes snapped open, her entire body tensing. Already the soft predawn light and the sounds of a waking city were drifting through her window. Her left hand silently slid out from under the tattered blanket and wrapped itself around the hilt of the leather-wrapped grip of her massive, curved sword. She waited, quietly listening to the sounds of the morning, her eyes locked on the splintering wooden door of her room. Something had startled her awake, but now...she could detect nothing suspicious, nothing threatening. She sighed deeply and let her body relax. This was no way to live.
She rolled over and knelt on her fraying, straw-stuffed ticking, and poured some water into an earthen bowl. She stared hard at her dim reflection, a ghost face. She dipped her hand in the water, ruining the image and began her morning ablutions. That finished she stood and breathed deeply for a moment then placed her fingertips on the small open circle tattooed high on her forehead. The circle radiated fine, whirling lines that gathered themselves into a thicker interwoven braid, that traced back over her shaved head to the nape of her neck, across her shoulders, down her back and legs, before rising up again, splitting, and ending at the tip of each of her index fingers. In a motion that was part calisthenic, part ritual, she slowly and carefully ran her finger tips along the entire length of the tattoo, ending with her arms extended, fingertips lightly touching. She slowly and reverently brought her hands back to her forehead and she stood there for a moment, just breathing and remembering.
She heard a bell toll in the distance, and released another sigh. She dressed quickly, sliding into her well-worn hide pants and cotton shirt, then struggling into the stiff and new leather tunic. Boots next, then weapons: She slung her scabbard low across her back, cross tying it to make sure it wouldn't be an encumbrance if she needed to run. Her belt was rough and hand tooled, but indispensable: it had two breakaway loops to hold her wicked looking spiked bolas, and a projection of boiled leather to protect her legs from the barbs. She wrapped a long, dark cloak around herself, and after a moment's hesitation, tied on the band that held her gauzy, black veil in place. A mourner's veil. Fitting enough she supposed. She flipped the hood up over her head, obscuring her distinctive tattoos and bristly skull, and finally knelt and reverently picked up her blade from it's fine woolen resting cloth. Her great grandfather's blade was a finely made piece - a strong, curved blade with delicate scrollwork in the same style as her tattoo and tiny holes bored along the spine that gave the the gleaming falchion it's voice. From the pommel hung three short leather strips, on each was tied a small bone and a single feather. She touched each bone in turn thanking her ancestors, and begging their forgiveness for her current abuse of their legacy. She dearly wished she could linger, but already the din of the market was rising in volume. It was time for her to go to work.
Haedrik awoke to a splitting headache.
He rubbed a hand vigorously over his face and head in a futile attempt to erase some of last night's mistakes.
With a sigh, partly protesting muscles, partly protesting waking, he stood and stretched. In a matter of moments he was dressed.
He eased himself down the stairs of tavern and into the main floor; he was not surprised to find himself alone. Jazbarl often left during the early hours to shop and mingle with his friends before opening the tavern proper for the day.
Haedrik wound his way through the dining tables and behind the bar. He made ready to open a pantry shelf and prepare himself a little breakfast only to find they were locked shut and a note was pinned to them.
"Haedrik,
Scrub the floors and clean the windows. AND never come home that late and loud again!
Jazbarl."
Haedrik hung his head, but smiled as he started to remember some of the events of the past night . . .in particular the pretty baker's daughter who he had spent the majority of the evening with. He ripped off the note and made his way to the broom while whistling.
Somethings are worth the trouble.
Taemin rises early from his trance, as he often does to avoid his darker meditations. As silently as possible, he begins his morning exercise routine, stretching, jumping, and running over the sturdy furniture in his small cell. Bounding on the balls of his feat, he takes care not to disturb others nearby. His superiors have enough complaints about him from his fellows at the temple.
Exiting his cell, Taemin makes his way to the mess and begins cleaning and preparing the kitchen for the cooks. Carefully setting everything in place, he then takes a simple meal of bread and water. Returning to the silence of his cell, he passes others on their way to prepare the morning meal.
After eating and performing his morning ablutions, Taemin lifts his small slat cot and carefully retrieves his golden uniform. Gentle for the quality of the material, if not the ostentatious colors, he dons it, and girds his carefully tied sword at his side. Tucking his ears inside the elaborate tassled cap, he is ready.
Exiting the main temple area, he makes his way to his post at the Bank door just as the sun crests the horizon and ignites the river to the east with light. Saluting the priest preparing to unlock the doors, Taemin settles back into a silent pose, preparing for another day's struggle to remain awake.
Verronax woke with a groan as early morning sunlight streamed into his room, accompanied by the ringing of temple bells. He had been out late again last night, this time in the Shingles of Old Korvosa.
I need to get my own rooms somewhere, he thought as he pulled himself out of bed and staggered to the washbasin to splash cold water on his face. One of the servants had seen him come home last night, and it was only a mater of time before they noticed how frequent his nocturnal excursions were and finally told his parents. That is not something I want to deal with, he thought.
But he was getting close, he could feel it. He hadn't found any new clues last night, not even from the drunken thug he had beaten almost senseless in that stinking alley. The man didn't have answers, but Verronax was sure he worked for Gaedren Lamm. He had just been more afraid of Lamm than of Verronax. It was only a matter of time before Verronax had Jacaranda's murderer in his hands, and then that scoundrel, that scum, that worm would feel the true wrath of Law fall upon him.
Verronax shook his head, spraying wet droplets. He stared into the looking glass, and the face that looked back at him, was haunted, dark. No, he told himself, determined. The face of justice. He lifted up the signet ring on the thin chain around his neck and kissed it. Soon my love, I will avenge you.
But that was for another night. Today was another day, and he had his duties. To the temple, then. Today he was joining a patrol of the Korvosan Guard on their rounds. It served one arm of justice, but it wasn't enough. The other side of the scale needed to be balanced.
He knelt before the city-and-key emblem of Abadar on the wall, and said a short prayer. His anger faded, replaced with a sense of peace, but deep down the anger still burned like a hot ember, waiting. Verronax stood up, and put on his scale mail tunic, handed down through the generations from one second son to the next, and pulled his vestments on over it, before placing the silver holy symbol of Abadar around his neck. Hanging his well-oiled crossbow on his hip, he picked up his halberd and headed out into the Korvosan morning.
One more day, one more night. One step closer to Jacaranda's killer.
Jam
Your assignment this morning is transcribing some receipts from slate to parchment. It looks supply records for a nearby restaurant. With any luck, you think, you should be able to complete the clerical work by midday. Of course, you're sure that Baker will have something else for you do do this afternoon. He always does.
Karista
Haedrik
Taemin
Verronax
Haedrik's eyebrows lift at the sound of moonwine.
"Well, come now Jazbarl, you've no doubt had a long morning, let me unload the cart here."
Haedrik bounds over and starts taking the foodstuffs back to the bar.
"You know, Jazbarl, we should probably try a bit of this wine. Make sure you didn't get ripped off or anything like that?"
Haedrik offers the most sincere smile he can.
Karista's shrouded head nodded once to signify understanding. She found acting as a messenger to be a welcome diversion from the normal degradation of her job. Not that it wasn't degrading in it's own way (it especially irked her that Bly still bothered to seal the envelope when he knew full well that she couldn't read), but at least it offered new humiliations. That, and the opportunity to stretch her legs. Her long stride put the blocks of Korvosa behind her quickly and on the rare occasion that there was a mostly open avenue she would allow herself to jog lightly. She knew that she could never run full tilt in this city - even if she had the room for it, she would attract the attention that she was desperately seeking to avoid just now. As always when she moved outside her beaten path, her eyes combed the crowd for that thrice-cursed cur, Lamm. One day she'd find him, and she would have her revenge. But not today it seemed.
As Karista neared the docks her nose was assailed by the smell of frying dumplings. She bitterly thought of the staling bread in her bag that she was planning on making her lunch and decided that she might indulge in some dumplings for herself as well. She was surprised at the way her mouth watered at the prospect of the greasy blobs. Apparently she was growing accustomed to eating things despite not exactly knowing what they were composed of. She quickly searched the dockyard for Gerrik so she could turn her energy to more pressing matters - lunch.
Relieved to be relieved, feelings of fatigue creeping into his limbs, Taemin steps into the bustle of Sunrise Boulevard. Heading south away from Northgate, he slips off his cap self-consciously. He stops only briefly at Three Rings to mumble a greeting to Theandra in thanks for a mug of stimulating klar, osirian coffee, to waken his mind. Taking his drink, some sweetbread, and a skewer of melons and berries to refresh his body, he strolls to north Harborview dodging the crowds.
Finding the first empty dock he sits and gazes at the river running slowly to the north, watching small fishing skiffs bob to and fro hypnotically, and basking in the sun. His sensitive fingers run over the wood of the dock, remembering his days running the Shingles.
A low snap makes him turn to look back, facing into the hungry eyes and snapping jaws of a long reptile, with teeth seeming 6 inches long. Another snap bursts open his eyes with a thundering heart. Glancing about he notes a fishmonger drawing up his nets, the ropes snapping against the hull of his small boat.
Trembling Taemin gulps down his drink, counting on it to keep his senses fully about him as he returns to his post.
My papers and desk are a mess from the Osirion's move into our space. Baker had better properly introduce him to all of us if he expects us to put up with this. He's not the only house in town, after all! "Damnable chair", I grumble. It's good I got the hang of getting on top of it or Baker'd still be having a laugh at me every time I fell off. The trick was to put lead weights in the legs of the thing so it wouldn't tip so easily as I climbed it. Baker never noticed. I hope it makes him think he's getting weak in his age.
I begin my work confident that one of these days I would find a gem in the mostly boring clerical work I do. Every man must eat, and that means he must acquire and spend coin. Lamm has been careful, but he owes us for what he did to my family. I don't have a head for tracking down anyone in the streets, nor do I care to put that head on the line talking to roughs in the Shingles. Mustn't dawdle if I want to get out of here on time today.
Verronax is lost in his thoughts, when he suddenly realizes the Watch sergeant is talking to him.
"Hmm? Oh, yes, a midday deal would be fine."
Verronax looks around, and realizes he has no idea where they've been walking. Too many late nights, indeed.
"Perhaps you have a suggestion as to where, Sergeant?"
Haedrik
He climbs up onto one of the stools at the bar, putting the key to the locked cabinets on the bartop, so that you can the food away. "The butcher's boy should be around shortly with tonight's cuts. While we wait, I suggest we have a bit to eat. Did you finish cleaning the windows?"
Karista
As you reach into your pouch for the envelope, you notice something that wasn't there before, tucked in beside the envelope: a stiff card, decorated with a dancing bear and a hammer on its face. The reverse side is covered in a kaledoscopic design, but there is something marked over it in ink. You recognize it as writing.
Taemin
You do feel much refreshed after drinking the thick, hot klar (and cleansing its bitter from your tongue with fruit), but it cannot do much to calm the troubled images behind your eyelids.
As you return to the Bank, you pull your cap back on, only to find a card tucked inside. Its face displays a hooded man with a large iron ring bearing many keys. A larger, stylized key is drawn to the left of the card. The reverse bears a kaledoscopic card back, but has a note written over it in ink. You have to squint slightly to pick out the lettering above the pattern. It reads:
"I know what Gaedren has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, yet I cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done."
Jam
Verronax
Haedrik lets out a deep laugh. "Can't fault a guy for trying, eh?"
Haedrik spends the next hour unloading the cart and helping Jazbarl get a meal going.
The two friends gossip a bit over lunch and a friendly game of cards.
When all is done, Haedrik washes the dishes and offers to put the cart back.
"Jaz, I'm gonna roll into market and get some tobacco, unless you need something else done before we open."
Karista's brow furrows for a moment. In her head she replays Bly handing her the envelope - just the envelope. And the card couldn't have slipped out; it was clearly still sealed. She fingers the image for a moment before realizing that Gerrik was still waiting for an answer. She slips the envelope out of the pouch and extends it pinned between two fingers to the waiting dockman, "Don't know. Secret, apparently." Karista twisted her fingers to display the seal. "Need anything sent back along to him?" She keeps her voice normal as possible while reviewing the events of the day in her head. Ever since Gaedren's stunt she had been exceedingly cautious of anyone touching her belongings - she had no idea when someone could've slipped this card into her bag. Inwardly she seethed. She felt a fool for allowing this to happen again. As casually as she can she glances around her surroundings, half expecting to see Lamm's leering face or worse the approaching city watch...
Taemin feels his heart thundering in his chest as he quickly slips the card beneath his uniform. Stepping into his guard position, he begins rapidly moving his left hand. First straight, palm to his side, then bent out at the wrist, then all fingers touching his thumb in a beak, and so forth, repeating them endlessly.
Calming his breathing, Taemin enters a meditative trance, eyes staring straight ahead as customers and petitioners alike pass before his "guard". The images flickering before his mind's eye had nothing in common with the pedestrian affairs of the day though. They were much darker, and yet...
Finally... no more dreams.
"I don't know the place, Sergeant, but I'll follow your lead."
Verronax follows the men down the Walk into Aram's Crown. He automatically scans the interior, looking to see who is there or if anything is amiss.
|
Always a fight when you come up to the other scribes' waists. As long as I get a bit of the ear. Hope he hasn't been carrying it around too long. They do get soggy in the moisture from the Jaggere! That jerk Kettering had better not keep me back from the food today. One of these days I'll show him a little something he's not expecting.
*knife flourish*
Theft (1d20+2=6)
"Oops. Fumbling my dagger here. Just wanted to cut a piece of that oliphant ear off. Don't mind me!"
Haedrik
As you look into the cabinet, you notice a card laying beside the kettle, bearing the image of a rabbit wearing a crown and wielding a raiper, a broken sword-hilt tucked into his belt. The image of a key sits to the right of the card. Curious, you pick up the card and turn it over, looking for some sign of where it came from. The reverse is a kaledoscopic pattern, but is written over in black ink. It reads:
"I know what Gaedren has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, yet I cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done."
Karista
He pulls a few folded pieces of paper from the packet. The first is smaller and handwritten. You can't see much of the others (they're partially covered by the first sheet), but they bear the seal of the Bank of Abadar. As he flips through the papers, Gerrick says, "You alright, me dear? You look nervous."
After a brief pause, Gerrick folds the papers back into the envelope and pockets it. "You cen tell Murdoc that the boys will bring his stuff 'round on Fireday."
Taemin
Verronax
'Today's Lunch -
Chopped pork with vegetables
Cheese Dumplings
Buttered potato'
As you enter, a large man near the door says, "No weapons inside, unless you're here on business." He indicates a rack near the door, which already holds a nobleman's rapier, and the weapons of a Sable Company Marine who is already dining inside.
Jam
After a brief lunch consisting of a big hunk of the ear and (perhaps) a bit of fruit, you return to work. Baker comes around with your afternoon assignment. He lays a heavy book on the table, and a thick sheaf of blank parchment sheets next to it. "A bloke from Theumanexus dropped this off, wanted a copy scribed. Ought to keep you busy for a bit."
The tome is unmarked on the outside. As you open the cover, you find a card tucked inside. It bears the image of a man on a stage, wielding a wooden sword. A crown marks the top edge of the card. The reverse side of the card has a note written on it in ink. It reads:
"I know what Gaedren has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, yet I cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done."
Haedrik deftly palmed the card and slid it into his sleeve. He was mildy surprised that someone had been so capable of putting the card in the pantry without his or Jazbarl's notice.
"Tea will be whistling soon, Jaz. I'll be back in an hour or so."
Haedrik exited the inn and strolled down the street towards the marketplace. His mind was strolling down different paths; namely, old memories half-buried.
Haedrik did not often dwell on his life under Gaedren Lamm; truth be told, he had never quite mentioned it to anyone besides Jaz. Haedrik sighed and pivoted, turning back towards the tavern.
His tobacco would have to wait; he did not want to visit this stranger this evening without first checking his rapier and daggers.
"It's nothing. Just a little on edge to today." Karista tilted her head back to take in the sky, "The wind's changing," she offered as explanation. She leveled her gaze and gave Gerrik a curt nod. "Have a nice day." The foreign phrase still felt thick on her tongue, and she delivered it unconvincingly. Without waiting to gauge Gerrik's response, she spun on her heel and plunged back into the dockside bustle. She felt a sudden powerful need for movement.
She made better time going than coming, her stride long and quick. She kept one hand inside her bag to keep the dumplings from jostling about, but her fingers kept returning to the card, and she traced the edges unconsciously.
Luckily for her, Bly had no customers at hand when she returned. Forgetting for the moment the dumplings and the message or any form of greeting, she extended the bear-faced card to the chubby merchant, and asked, "What is this?" in a direct, flat tone.
Verronax glances at the sergeant to see if this is the usual practice before handing over his halberd and crossbow. He takes a seat at the table and hails a passing barmaid.
"Pork and dumplings, if you please, miss. And a glass of wine, white if you have it."
He waits until the sergeant places his order, then attempts to engage the man in conversation.
"So what's the news on the streets these days, sergeant? Anything interesting going on?" Verronax stifles a yawn and thinks that ordering wine might not have been the best idea this early in the day.
"Thanks, I was... thinking," Taemin offers lamely. Ducking back inside the main temple area he hurries to his room, stomach churning as he smells the heavy gravies served so often for sun-sup.
He hurredly changes out of his uniform and into something a little less conspicuous, retaining only his sword. He carefully reties the knot to appear peace-tied but to give if drawn. . Satisfied, he tucks it under a cloak and shuts his door, making his way out to a side street.
Taemin walks a short distance then, taking a breath he carefully climbs up the side of the building to the Shingles. Acknowledging other residents, he begins a steady cadence of quick darts over roofs and leaps between buildings, keeping an eye out for anything dangerous (. Making his way steadily towards Lancet Street and his appointed rendevous, he plans a descent from the Shingles a half block from the address.
"Aye, I'll have a pear. Maybe you're not such a bad guy, Kettering," I say as I sheathe my knife.
A little later...
"Would've thought Theumanexus could do their own work. They have enough eager youths there, don't they? Well, if they pay, I write. You'll have it by the end of the week, sir."
Well, what boring ledger do we have here? What's this? A funny bookmark, maybe?
...
Mustn't be hasty! This could be it. But is it a trap? I had better work harder than normal and get out of here. Maybe there's something else in this book that can help me. Have to get ready for this.
Jam examines the book for further clues.
After working til 5:30...
Jam goes home and gathers a cloak and his spell components, and prepares his spells
"I'll be home late. Don't worry about me! Baker was hard on me today and I need a walk!" Pop and mother won't suspect anything, and I'll take care of that bastard Lamm very soon. He needs to pay for the hell he put us through. I hope this isn't another dead end... or a trap.
Jam
Taemin
Haedrik
Karista
When prompted with the card, Bly replies, "It looks like a harrow card, like those Varisian vagrants use. Where's my lunch?"
Verronax
The Watch Sargent answers, "People are getting antsy about the King. What with all the clerics coming and going from the castle, most everyone expects that he'll be fine, but lots of people are...less than fond of our lovely Queen."
Karista sets the card on Bly's counter and reaches back into her bag for the dumplings, their sacks already darkening with oil saturation at the bottom. She bites one of the now lukewarm dumplings in half and asks through her mouthful, "Do they usually write on them? Don't that ruin it all?" She wiped her greasy fingers on her cloak and flipped the card over for Bly to see. "I'll be damned if I know how it ended up in my bag, I had it on me all morning..." Karista inspected the interior of the dumpling distastefully. She decided that it was a food to eat, not observe.
Karista
The Bly tosses a dumpling in his mouth, asking "Writing?" He reaches out to pick up the card, squinting at the writing on the back. "Ha! Something about our friend Lamm." He swallows his mouthful of dumpling and clears his throat. "Ahem. 'I know what Gaedren has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, yet I cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done.' Very interesting."
Verronax accepts the red wine, unconcerned with its watered down state in the hope that he won't fall asleep on his rounds.
"Has any news come of what ails the king?" Verronax asks the sergeant. "I believe some priests from the temple are in attendance, but I'm not privy to their counsel, of course."
"The queen, you say? I must admit I haven't paid much attention to politics of late. What is it people are saying about her?"
Karista squints at Murdoc, her voice cold, "That's not funny, Bly. What does it actually say?"
Haedrik gives an sly wink. "Thought I'd strap on the ol' rapier; you never know when the maidens might be looking." Haedrik bounded up the stairs to his room, trying to think of a lie to the gnome so he could get the night off.
A few moments later, Haedrik came down the stairs and cleared his throat to get Jaz's attention from cleaning the teapot.
"Jaz, I am not going to lie to you. There is a great card game going on tonight, I got an invite for just a few coppers and I'd hate to pass it up. I can work tomorrow evening instead. . ." Haedrik lets his voice trail off with just a hint of pleading.
If all goes well -
Jam alternately paces and leans against the wall of an alley over-looking the site of the meeting.
Taemin silently waits in the shadows a short distance from the rendezvous point, sighing at his ill-luck. Carefully tensing and relaxing his legs in his cramped and crouched position, he watches the obstacle in his path, considering options as the sun-lit roofs above dimmed with the coming sunset.
Quietly he mumbles, "Gnomes... why haven't the gods done away with those unpredictable creatures?"
Haedrik
Karista
Verronax
"Has any news come of what ails the king?" Verronax asks the sergeant. "I believe some priests from the temple are in attendance, but I'm not privy to their counsel, of course."The Sargent shakes his head. "I'm afraid I don't know any more than you do."
"The queen, you say? I must admit I haven't paid much attention to politics of late. What is it people are saying about her?"
"Oh, just the same things they always have. That she's a gold digger. That she has no love for the city. The people have never liked her much, but most of them assumed that King Eodred would finally produce an heir now that he was married proper, and she'd never rule. Now they're anxious. My opinion, though? I think they're all just worried about their King, and they're taking it out on her. He'll get better, and everything will go back to normal."
Haedrik assures Jaz there will be no problems and that the rapier is more of bravado piece.
After he leaves, he ducks into a tavern closer to his destination. Throws a few silver down for some wine and begins to mull over what tonight might possibly bring.
"Yes, yes. You'll have your goods by Fireday. Is that really what it says? And where's Lancet street?" Karista's whole body is tensed, as though she might sprint off at a moment's notice.
"You sound like an optimist, Sergeant. Something not often found in this line of work. By the way, Sergeant, do you ever patrol in Old Korvosa? I've been looking for someone there, and could use some help."
OOC:Is it too late for a new player to join?Haedrik** spoiler omitted **
Karista** spoiler omitted **
Verronax** spoiler omitted **
Karista
Verronax
You realize that you've devoured your whole plate of food: you much have been hungry. The long nights must be taking it out of you. The barmaid, noticing the empty plates returns to collect the tab: 3 silver pieces each for youself, the watch sargent, and the two guardsmen you've been walking with. The sargent places a gold sail on the table for himself and the guards, bidding the barmaid to keep the change. He also gets her to endose a reciept for the city.
As your leave, you reclaim your gear from the rack near the door (the large man is still standing there, keeping an eye on everything). You open your bolt case to reload your crossbow, and find a card inside. You didn't leave the case on the rack, and the card certainly wasn't there when you unloaded the bow when you entered. The card bears the image of some large insect reclining on a throne wearing a crown. A star graces the left edge of the card. The reverse is a normal kaledoscoptic card back, but it has a note scrawled over it in black ink. It reads:
"I know what Gaedren has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, yet I cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done."
Tigger
"Just some man I heard about," Verronax tells the sergeant. "Don't worry about it, it was a shot in the dark." Verronax pays his tab, grimacing as he notices the rapidly dwindling supply of coins in his purse. Late nights and expensive information.
Quickly reading the card, Verronax puts it in his pouch nonchalantly and finishes claiming his gear.
"Sergeant, do you think you'll need me any more today? Everything seems calm, and I have some business to attend to. Is it all right if I leave early?"
Karista attempted mightily to push all thoughts of the card from her mind, as unaccustomed to hope as she was her first response was to deny it completely. But during a typical day at Bly's, a fair portion of her time was given over to plotting revenge, and such thoughts inevitably lead back to the events of the morning. At one point, Bly caught Karista staring at the back of the card as though attempting to translate it through force of will alone. She took to pacing and glancing up at the sky to judge the sun's position with such regularity that in a pinch she herself could've been used to tell time. Business slowed to a trickle in the afternoon and Bly's patience finally wore thin with the tattooed woman's restlessness. Finally he all but drove her out of the shop with hasty directions and notification of her pay being duly docked. Karista intended to make all haste to 3 Lancet Street without delay.
Verronax
Lancet street is part of a dockside neighborhood, with a higher than average Varisian population. Number 3 Lancet Street (given its low number) is a tiny house very near the dock end of the street. A small sign near the door marks it as 'Zellara's Parlor' and advertises Harrow readings and other fortune telling services at modest prices. The sign repeats itself in Varisian.
Karista stomps down the dockside row straight past Lancet, only to retrace her steps a minute later. She scans the road for a moment, then counts three houses up and knocks loudly on the front door. She glances over her shoulder suspiciously and her right hand is obviously resting on the hilt of the sword strapped low across her back.
Sighing to himself, Taemin backs slowly away from the gnome in his path, then stands aright and begins walking nonchalantly down the alley. The sudden loud knocking sends him scurrying hunched back down at his former hiding spot.
Seeing the shadows fall almost completely and biting back a curse at his nerves, Taemin rises back up and runs his hands through the seven standard positions as he shakily walks up the alleyway.
Haedrik watches the woman knocking on the door; he pauses in his walk for only a second.
As he approaches he clears his throat so as not to catch the woman off-guard, though he doubted he did as she seemed alert.
"Knock again my dear; let them know you are knocking for two."
Haedrik swept into a low bow. "Haedrik's the name. Pleased to meet you."
Karista turned abruptly to face Haedrik as he cleared his throat, but kept her head turned down, her veil obscuring her features almost entirely. "Haedrik." She repeated his name curtly, but made no other greeting. She pivoted slightly to keep the newcomer in sight as she knocked again - two loud thumps. "This is the 3 Lancet, yes?" she asked after a brief pause, her voice low and neutral.