John accepts the scabbard and turns it over in his hands.
It's obvious that it matches the one that currently hangs on his left hip.
"I remember this .... I had another sword as well."
He looks at Broom and shrugs when it is obvious that there is no sword in the bundle.
His memory jogged, he says: "I think I was leaving this place. I can't remember why, but I needed to return home."
"I was on a boat, leaving for Caliphas, when the crew suddenly turned on me. They must have been paid to kidnap me a deliver me back here."
"I remember grabbing my longsword and pulling it from its sheath. Then everything went black."
"I think that was right before I ended up on the island."
Broom was confused by the items in the bag.
"Well, this wand" she said while holding up one of the wands " slowly heals people, but it is made blood from very evil creatures."
She held up the other wand and frowned "But We don't understand this one. It only works on someone who is already very badly hurt, and all it does is kill them to make you and your magic a little stronger for a short time." She shrugged and put the wands back into their case and started rummaging through the medical kit.
She had seen many of the items in the kit while back at the asylum where they were probably not being used the way they were intended. She had little idea what most of them were for. There were little saws, lots of knives, funny shaped needles and a little thing that looked like a chisel. All the bandages and gauze in a variety of shapes were familiar though, she was pretty sure she knew how to use those. There were even some bottles with different liquids in them.
Trying to divine the purpose of the tools evoked some strange and unsettling memories of operating on someone. She was reasonably certain that the intent was to help the person in the end, but there was a strange zeal in the act of the surgery itself. As if the whole operation was more of an excuse to have the chance to peek inside someone.
"Any idea what's on that scroll?" John asks.
"Toss me that purse and I'll count the coins."
John found that there were 120 gold pieces and 6 platinum in the coin purse.
Desdemona, fascinated by her new (or rather, old) bracelet, started when she realized her shadow was slowly circling, with her as its pivot point. "Maybe we should go inside," she gulped, brandishing her glowing dagger.
The shadow, in defiance of the light, continued to circle. Desdemona kept her eyes on it, stiff with tension and soaked from the rain.
"It's probably too late now, Reine said quietly, "But since there's something across the water that's freakin' glowing, you might want to maybe minimize the waving of light sources that would attract attention."
"There's some spending money here in this purse. We can use it to help outfit ourselves once we finally find a store."
"You're right. Glowing people aren't normal."
"More normal than laughing eyeball monsters, but still not normal."
John pulls his longsword off his back and trade scabbards so that it is sheathed in his newfound magic scabbard.
Then he slings it over his shoulder to free his hands.
From what Reine and John could tell, whatever it was either hadn't noticed them or didn't care. Which made sense, since it was dark, rainy, and on the far side of the wide channel.
Broom was too busy packing trying to look at the stuff in the bag while keeping it dry at the same time. She didn't notice the glowing figure until it was pointed out. "Hey, didn't the lady at the agency tell us that someone named Toli saw lights in an old cave somewhere, and Elgrior is telling everyone the witch is back? Do you think that might be her over there?"
She quickly packed everything up and stowed it in her pack. "Maybe we should go have a look?"
Realising the need, Desdemona was nevertheless loathe to give up the light during the night. She compromised by holding it close, ready to (theoretically) tuck away under her cloak.
She was torn between fleeing the pressing dark, with the shadows so demonstrably malicious against her, and doing as Broom said. The cold, analytical part of her was disgusted by her fear. Just think of what you could learn.
Still gibbering inwardly, she quietly went with the others.
"Not sure how you plan to get across the channel," Reine said to Broom, "and if whoever that is can get to us from there, I don't wanna meet them. We should probably get out of here, and under some cover."
"Well, we do have the boat from the asylum." Broom said thoughtfully "But maybe we should go tomorrow. Maybe the rain will stop, or at least give us time to buy some better rain clothes."
John walks to the edge of the dock and looks down at the water where the mouther sank "I guess it is at the bottom of the lake now."
He looks at the others "I saw one of those in a sewer in Caliphas when I was a boy."
He looks away "It took my uncle and he was never seen again."
"No one ever believed me, not my family and not the guild."
He looks back at the group "At least you folk were here to see it this time. Maybe no one else will believe these things exist, but at least you will believe."
He spits into the water where it disappeared, then turns back to the others.
"Let's get gone from this place...."
"I definitely believe you, John," Reine said, though for some reason, that might not have sounded as reassuring as someone might have expected. "I agree. Let's go get dry."
The conquering heroes were able to make their way back to the Sleepless Agency's building without being attacked by any more monsters. The dark, empty streets were eerie, and the group could feel eyes on them even though there was no one to see them pass.
Back at the Sleepless Agency, the group was greeted by a guard they hadn't met before and shown to their rooms.
As we arrive, John unslings his sheathed longsword from his back and pulls off his cloak. He's soaked to the skin, from the rain and his swim with the mouther.
He nods in greeting to the guard and shrugs as he drips all over the floor.
Before we break up to head for bed, John asks Broom:
"Broom, is there any chance you could use your new wand to heal up the rest of my bite wounds?"
Uneasy with the strange guard, Desdemona was nevertheless relieved to be alone, even if the darkness pressed in on all sides. She set her dagger down beside her, its blessed light keeping the shadows at bay... mostly.
She had gone up against the darkness, and lost.
She shouldn't be angry about that, should she?
Desdemona's ravaged face grew thoughtful as she unpacked her few belongings. Perhaps it was some side effect of traveling with Reine? The woman was fearsome, if one were of the sort to quail at such things.
Then her attention was drawn to the tome she'd convinced the others to let her sequester in her satchel. Losing all thought of dry clothes or painful gouges or other inconsequential things, she pursued the fascinating purity of knowledge until her eyes could no longer remain open.
Her last thought of the evening was that there must be some way to get the better of the sentient dark, if she must live with it.
Her shadow circled, circled, slow and steady. She thought it seemed amused.
Broom was happy enough to be out of the rain. Once they arrived back at their lodgings she quickly offered to take everyone's wet clothing and dry them out.
When John asked her to help him with his wounds she excitedly pulled out the medical kit "Oh, do you want me to try and sew them... oh? No? OK then." she said a little disappointed as she saw John's frown as she held up the thread and curved needle.
She retrieved the wand from its fancy case and she focused on it. She wasn't exactly certain what she was supposed to do but it seemed to be a pretty common task as it only took a moment of searching before she found plenty of memories about using devices like this one.
She didn't know what the words meant, but for some reason they seemed appropriate.
John felt the malevolence being exuded from the wand even before it touched him. The ragged skin about the wounds glowed like embers, yet instead of his flesh being consumed, the infernal power began to knit the flesh together.
The air filled with the faint smell of brimstone and John felt a distinctly unclean sensation as if his soul was being stained even as the unholy magic made his body whole again.
After a minute the magic had run its course and the vile feeling passed leaving his body mended and only a hint of sulphur in the air.
Broom watched with intense curiosity. "Is that how it is supposed to work?"
She then turned to Des and held up the wand "Do you want to be healed too?"
John shivers as the evil magic flows through him, but sighs in relief as the nasty bite wounds on his left arm knit themselves together.
"I see what you mean about that magic...." he says to Broom.
As the magic takes its course.
"Thanks, I feel better. Maybe we can find some cleaner magic to use in the future."
"I'll see you all in the morning. Maybe tomorrow we can find more clues as to where this Count Lowls has gone to." John says to the others.
He retires to his rooms, dripping water all the way.
Once in the room, he unshoulders his pack.
Then he begins placing his weapons on a small side table. First setting down his longsword and Red Destiny, both in their matching scabbards. Then pulling his shortbow and quiver off his back, checking that they've not been damaged by the time in the lake. Apair of daggers, one from his belt and the silver one he found in the asylum from his boot. Lastly, he unlaces the wrappings from the spiked gauntlet on his left hand, pausing to work on one of the stubborn knots with his teeth.
He weapons set aside and checked, he pulls the chain shirt he's worn for some time over his head. He examines it for a moment, wincing as he checks a tear in the links made by a ghoul's claw back in the Asylum.
Setting aside his gear, he starts pulling off his clothes. He drags over the chamber pot and begins wringing out the water into the chamber pot, hanging up each garment as he finishes with it.
Soon he's down to his under breeches with the bare skin of his limbs and torso exposed. A patchwork of faint lines and marking shows the wounds he has taken over the last week, even after they were closed with magic.
Across his belly is a nasty mass of scar tissue, marked where an old wound was crudely stitched up. John is no healer, but he knows enough to understand that he was lucky to survive whatever opened up his torso in the past.
What he doesn't know is when it happened, where it happened, or any of the details.
He sighs and walks over to where he tossed his belt pouch as he undressed. Fishing about in the bottom of the pouch, he pulls out a tarnished brass holy symbol of Cayden Cailean.
He walks back over and kneels down by the bed slowly, still stiff from the pummeling he took earlier.
Then, out loud he speaks to the deity.
"Cayden ... I'm guessing it has been a while since you've heard from me." he begins.
"Somehow I got lost ... lost in my head, and I think I did some bad things."
"I'm going to need all the help you can give me to make it right."
"I think I've got to start by finding this Count Lowls guy and getting some answers. Maybe if I can stop whatever he is up to I can balance the scales for some of the hurt I've caused."
"I'll do my best, but I could use a little help finding the path."
He raises up his head and looks at the holy symbol for a moment, then he hangs it about his neck on a cord.
Standing up stiffly, he picks up a chair and braces it against the door, not wanting to be surprised in the night.
Then he picks up one of his daggers from the side table and slides it under the pillow on the bed. He lays down, covering himself with a blanket and sliding his right hand under the pillow where the blade is close at hand.
He drifts off to sleep and for the first time in years he doesn't dream of monsters with too many eyes....
Waking in the morning, he stretches, limbers up, and meditates for a period drawing himself closer to Cayden.
Then he dresses himself in his still damp clothes, hangs Red Destiny from his belt, and goes back downstairs to see who else in the house has awoken.
Reine had given the guard the side-eye, but hadn't directly questioned him. She did make sure she was the last one to go to her room, however.
Once there, like John - though she didn't know it - she began a systematic and thorough inventory of the gear she'd been carrying all day.
She put her pack down on the floor, then removed the "sash" and bandoleer that crisscrossed her chest, and set them beside the pack. The semi-flattened quiver followed, its odd assortment of arrows rustling against one another and the unstrung short bow strapped to it. Then she shrugged out of the reversible black-and-grey cloak that had provided almost no protection from the rain, flattened as it had been beneath all of the other gear. The hood might've been helpful, had she remembered it was there and dug it out from under the pack and quiver.
Next came the chain-backed leather vest. It was heavy, and even after having been out in the rain, it stank. She held it out to arm's length, wrinkled her nose, and let it fall to the floor with a heavy thump. Next to go was the amulet around her neck, and the headband that held her hair back.
She sat down on the bed and pulled off her black leather boots, stripped off the woolen socks beneath them, and then loosened the laces on the sides of her leather trousers, which allowed her to tug them off, despite the clamminess of her skin from the rain.
For the first time in what seemed like forever, Reine stood up and stretched, wearing only her unbleached linen shirt and her underpants. She took a few moments to revel in the free feeling, taking a deep breath and letting it out with a sigh. Then she pulled the shirt over her head and hung it on the back of her chair to dry, along with her trousers. The cloak she'd already draped over the seat itself.
Pulling the comforter from the bed and draping it over her shoulders for warmth, Reine then crossed her legs as she sat on the floor and began to go through the various items she'd collected or rescued from the asylum.
From the pockets of her shirt, pants, and cloak, she pulled an empty potion vial, four full ones, a wire saw, flint and steel, a small leather pouch with several fishhooks in it, and a waxed canvas case that contained a grooming kit. She chuckled at that. She hadn't really had the chance to care for her appearance since waking up in those stinking cells. That thought brought a wave of memories, and Reine took several minutes and many slow, deep breaths, letting go of those emotions again.
When she'd managed to come back to herself, Reine counted the coins and gems in the small pouch that had been tied to her belt. Then she went through the various flasks and vials on her bandoleer, and fished out the items in the large pouch attached to the leather 'sash.' She frowned when she realized that all it had contained this whole time was a spool of twine and two climbing pitons. She set them aside.
It took only a minute or two to catalog her arrows. Then she began going through the contents of her pack, pocket by pocket.
A few packets of wandermeal, some hardtack and jerky she recognized as traveling rations. And a separate packet of jerky that was different from the rest. Greenish in color, though it didn't look like it had gone bad. It smelled funny, too. Both unappealing, and, at the same time, it made her stomach rumble with a feeling of familiar...anticipation, maybe? There was the niggling feeling of one of those almost-memories at the back of her mind. A vague recollection of swamps and desperation, hunger - deep, deep hunger - and disgust.
And buried under all of it, shame.
She sat in those feelings for a while, inviting them to bring memories with them. Tucking her knees under her chin, Reine closed her eyes and just sat and rocked on the floor. She let herself feel more of those feelings of shame and disgust and desperation than she could remember having done... well, ever. But the memories didn't come with the feelings. Eventually, the anger came back. The familiar, empowering rage rose up, numbing the pain of those other emotions. Crystallizing and neutering the weakness they brought, replacing them with cold, clear power.
But then, with a deep breath and a sigh, even the anger was gone again, leaving Reine feeling nothing. Just.. numb, and vaguely sad.
Was this how it was going to be now? Was this the future? Anger and pain and fear? Would she never remember who she was? Never really know who out there hated her, wished her harm? Never know why?
Never know if they were right?
These people she was with. She couldn't really call them 'friends,' could she? Apparently they knew each other from before the nightmares at the asylum, but from what little they'd learned, she wasn't sure any of them were the kind to even have friends. Or deserve them.
Another sigh.
They were weird. All of them - Reine included. But they'd each saved the others. Individually and collectively, each one of them owed - and was owed by - the others for their lives. For now, maybe that was enough.
Reine stopped going through her things. The rest of the backpack's contents could wait.
Except...
Sticking out from the main compartment was the end of a stringed instrument. Smaller than a lute or almost any other instrument of a similar nature, it had four strings, adjusting pegs, and frets. Reine had carried this thing for... for however long they'd been in that nightmare place - it seemed like years... but she'd almost deliberately avoided examining it.
She took it out of the pack, and it fit into her hands like an old friend. More comfortable than her bow, more instinctively familiar than anything she could remember - though she could not remember where it had come from, or even how one was supposed to play it.
She adjusted her legs so that she was kneeling, and fit the instrument partially in her lap. Eyes closed, she let her thumb strum the strings. The sounds they made were... wrong. She knew that, without knowing what "right" was.
Eyes still closed, she began to pluck just one of the strings, listening as with her other hand, she adjusted a peg. Plucking and listening and turning, gradually, Reine brought the instrument into tune. She wasn't sure how she knew it was properly in tune once it was, just that she knew it was.
And something about knowing that - hearing that - broke something inside of her. Hugging the instrument to her fiercely, Reine felt hot, wet tears on her cheeks. Her shoulders began to shake, and, quietly, Reine de Colère wept at last.
With everyone retiring to their own rooms and left to her own devices, Broom's first order of business was drying herself off and cleaning up her clothes. She peeled the soaking garments off and neatly laid them out on the bed before using her cantrip to both clean and dry them. It did take some time though, and she wondered if there was a laundry room somewhere on the grounds.
Having tidied herself up, she quickly dressed once more and looked around the little room. It seemed to be well kept and there was nothing that needed tending too. She poked around in her pack just to make sure everything was still nicely folded and securely stowed before examining the contents of the medical kit once more. As she began to sort through the items she started to become bored and her mind began to wander aimlessly.
Without direction it gently bumped into a wide variety of random thoughts and memories, some nice and some not so much, but most simply mundane. After a little time she started to become aware of a new sensation. As she relaxed and stared out the window, there was at the very edge of her perception that calling from the lake. But that was quiet enough that it was easily ignored. This new sensation came from wherever her thoughts were wandering. Curious she tried to focus on it. As she did so though she noticed that the thoughts about her were becoming less frequent and much much more alien in nature. It felt as if her mind was wandering farther and father away from the comforting familiarity of her world.
The new sensation became stronger as she reached out farther. At first she couldn't really describe it, but it seemed very familiar. Her curiosity suddenly faltered as she realized that the strange feeling was that of being observed. Something out in memory space was aware of her. She felt the weight of its attention focus on her, a roiling malevolence with a hint of anticipation. Although she didn't know what it was she knew she had met it before, and she knew that she shouldn't be here now.
With a little effort, she fled from that place of few minds, back through the crowded multitude of mundane thought and back to herself. She could now feel herself trembling and breathing heavily. She quickly cleared her thoughts and composed herself. Looking about the neat room once again she knew she had to do something.
Broom quietly opened the door planning on exploring the manor a little, however the first thing she noticed were wet footprints in the hall. A little relieved to have something enjoyable to occupy herself she immediately set about cleaning the floor with both mundane and magical means, pausing only briefly to listen with curiosity to the sound of an instrument being tuned.
After that task was done, she quietly knocked on her companion's doors and offered to take care of their clothes if they wished. Cleaning and mending the clothing through either arcane or physical means as the opportunity presented itself she made sure everything was taken care of before returning them and seeking out the kitchen.
Once there she helped the staff prepare dinner for everyone, chatting happily with whoever was willing to tolerate her random trains of questions. Finally as the evening wore on, she delivered a tray of dinner to each door, placing it on the ground and again knocking softly to announce that dinner had been served before retiring back to her own room satisfied. There she drifted off to sleep, the unnerving encounter in the mind space having already been forgotten.
Safe to sleep soundly for the first time in... days? weeks? Time had been strange on Briarstone and with the lost memories it was hard to tell when the last time they'd been able to sleep in a bed, but it felt like a long time. After a sound night's sleep, the group awoke in the morning to the smell of breakfast being served in the dining room.
After splashing some water on his face, John heads to the dining room in search of food.
Broom woke up feeling more refreshed than any other time that she could remember.
The smell of breakfast set her mouth watering as she quickly dressed and headed down to the dining room. She met everyone she saw with a bright "Good morning" before settling in and enjoying the meal.
"So" she asked between mouthfuls "What are we going to do today? We think that we should do some shopping, then go across the water and find the ghost we saw last night. We were asked to help investigate that."
Desdemona woke from her first restful night of sleep in too long, to find that her clothes were clean and mended (she deduced that she'd absentmindedly let Broom in the night before from that and the mostly-untouched tray of food still parked on her desk), the blessed light was coming in, and the smell of breakfast was in the air.
The night had grown long in the tooth before she'd retired from reading, but she got up with a smile. What she'd learned had been fascinating.
In a much improved state of mind, she glanced in the mirror as she dressed - and her smile froze. Red streaks, no longer bloody but stark against her near-white skin, ran their ragged way down her face.
Ah yes. The... the thing.
Shuddering, she donned both her dress and her unfortunately less fashionable chain shirt over it, and went down for breakfast with a thoughtful mien.
Broom's cheery greeting reciprocated with a smile and wave, Desdemona discovered that she was famished the moment the first morsel crossed her lips. Forgot to eat again, she thought, then frowned. Again? When had she last done that?
A sign of the return of more memories?
When Broom spoke, she nodded absently, still mostly lost in thought.
"Yes, that will be lovely," she murmured, scooping spoonfuls of fruit and porridge up daintily.
The dining room looked large enough to seat over a hundred but when the Briarstone survivors entered, there were only a half dozen other people, all sitting together at one table and talking over breakfast. Other than Winter, they were all dressed alike in variations of some kind of uniform.
One of the six was Winter, looking serious and sleep deprived, and one of them was Meg, the cadet who'd been manning the door the day before, but the survivors didn't recognize the other four. The children and the other three adults from Briarstone were not present.
Winter murmured something to the others at the table and stood, the three men at the table standing politely as well until she walked over to the survivors. Close up, she looked like she hadn't gotten the good night of rest the four survivors had but was putting on a brave face. She nodded at everyone and gestured at an empty chair. "May I?"
Reine came downstairs looking... different.
She'd had the chance to actually take care of herself this morning. A night of sleep, free from worries about the Tatterman, a morning with a mirror, washbasin - with water - and some time to use her long-neglected hairbrush and other grooming items made for a significant change in her appearance.
This morning, despite still wearing her heavy chain-backed leather vest (which looked - and smelled - much nicer after Broom's ministrations the previous evening), the crossed bandoleers, and her other gear, Reine looked... lighter... somehow. The fact that her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her new-old headband was in place might have been some of it. The hint of a pink shirt beneath everything else might also have contributed.
She'd joined the others for breakfast and, like Desdemona, found herself concentrating on her food more than the conversation.
"Shopping is good," she'd said at one point, "we were going to do that yesterday, before the... other stuff."
When Winter approached, Reine gave the priestess a searching look.
"You look rough," she said, her voice sympathetic, "take a seat. I guess things aren't all ribbons and faeries, just because Zandalus and the Tatterman are dead now?"
Winter shook her head. "I had an audience with Accuser Faravin last night via Accuser Omari's speaking stone." The Pharasmin investigator sighed as she sat down. "Then the Head Accuser, then Lady Vashalnt, then Advisor Diauden and the Prince himself. I... have not covered myself in glory." Being the only survivor of a unit tasked to complete a royal investigation apparently did not endear one to the man on the throne.
"One small success is that I managed to get the four of you added to Accuser Omari's writ, recognizing you as special investigators. Though from what I have heard from Miss Wrentz and the others here, that may not be of any help with Iris Hill."
She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, sitting up a little straighter in her chair. "Small victories, though. How did your investigations go?"
The difference in Reine, coupled with Winter's approach, was finally enough to draw Desdemona out of her imagination. She nodded at each of their statements.
"I believe they went fairly well... at first, at least. Tell me, what do you know of the religious proclivities of the locals?" she asked, casual, but listening intently.
With a glance at the others to confirm, she added, "We saw a figure in the distance, on the far side of the water, last night. After a bit of provisioning, we thought we might investigate."
John nods to Winter.
"There definitely seems to be a dark cloud over this town." he tells her.
"Some of that is probably the result of our past activities here. People won't be forgetting our past actions any time soon."
"We didn't learn much about Lowls yesterday, but we did find and kill a creature down at the docks that was probably responsible for some of the town's disappearances." he says grimly.
"A monster like that shouldn't have been in this town."
He sighs and frowns.
"I don't know if we are 'special investigator' material or not, but we all owe you for your help back on the island. Whatever we can do to help you, we will do."
Broom was pleased with the news, even if she didn't know exactly what it meant. Since waking up with no memories and no name just a few days ago, she was now Special Investigator Doctor Mashiki Broom. It certainly sounded like she was someone important!
She finished her mouthful, nodding towards John "It was a gibbering mouther, but its gone now. We were going to do some shopping for supplies and then head across the water to investigate the glowing person we saw last night."
Her voice grew concerned "Is there anything We can do for you so that you can get some rest?"
After a moment's thought, she asked "We found something with the initials MM on it, though it might be WW as well. Does that sound familiar?"
"I believe they went fairly well... at first, at least. Tell me, what do you know of the religious proclivities of the locals?" she asked, casual, but listening intently.
Winter made a face. "This town has an unsavory reputation in the Church." She must have meant the Church of Pharasma. "There are stories about how the early settlers turned from the Lady of Mysteries to embrace some evil, pagan godcalling tradition and when we sent inquisitors and Royal Accusers to bring them to justice, the entire town's population had disappeared overnight. They call that the Vanishing- that was... 500 years ago? But it's not a reputation a town can easily shake off."
"Since then, though, the town has returned to the Church. There has been a chapel of Pharasma here for hundreds of years. They had trouble with a bad priest about 50 years ago but worship hasn't lapsed as far as I remember." She cleared her throat and lowered her voice a bit. "There are the rumors, of course. The Watcher in the Water and all that, but I don't give it much credence."
"I don't know if we are 'special investigator' material or not, but we all owe you for your help back on the island. Whatever we can do to help you, we will do."
Winter shook her head. "I helped you? That's not how I remember it." She gave John a small, weak smile. "You saved the lives of dozens of people on Briarstone. You definitely saved mine. And now I've brought you into some unknown conflict between the Crown and Iris Hill. If anyone deserves anything, you all deserve medals."
"All I need is Accuser Omari back. If they've killed him and the rest of my team... that's open conflict with the Crown. I don't even know how to approach that on my own." She looked around the table and leaned in, dropping her voice even further. "One thing I learned last night is that we're on our own. The Accusers are all tasked out and without a Count to deploy regional forces on the throne's orders we won't be getting any further military support. Even if there were help to be had, I suspect the Prince would want to keep the story of a Royal Accuser being murdered quiet." Winter shook her head. "We can't count on any help, save for allies we can cultivate locally."
She finished her mouthful, nodding towards John "It was a gibbering mouther, but its gone now. We were going to do some shopping for supplies and then head across the water to investigate the glowing person we saw last night."
Her voice grew concerned "Is there anything We can do for you so that you can get some rest?"
Winter shook her head. "I don't think so, but thank you. I will get outside today, try to see what's going on at the chapel. They tell me the priestess hasn't been seen in a few days. You do what you need to do and we'll regroup tonight at dinner." She took a deep breath and smiled again at everyone. This time it looked a little stronger and more genuine. "I'm glad I found you. I don't know what I would have done without a group of real heroes willing to lend a hand."
After a moment's thought, she asked "We found something with the initials MM on it, though it might be WW as well. Does that sound familiar?"
The Pharasmin looked back at Broom curiously. "Aren't those your initials? The file at Briarstone- Mashiki Malbourne. Did you find something belonging to you out in town?"
"I don't know that anyone has ever called me a hero." John says uncomfortably.
"I do know that I think I've done things I need to make amends for, and if helping you help the people of this town is a way to start then I'll do my best."
Winter made a face. "This town has an unsavory reputation in the Church." She must have meant the Church of Pharasma. "There are stories about how the early settlers turned from the Lady of Mysteries to embrace some evil, pagan godcalling tradition and when we sent inquisitors and Royal Accusers to bring them to justice, the entire town's population had disappeared overnight. They call that the Vanishing- that was... 500 years ago? But it's not a reputation a town can easily shake off."
"Since then, though, the town has returned to the Church. There has been a chapel of Pharasma here for hundreds of years. They had trouble with a bad priest about 50 years ago but worship hasn't lapsed as far as I remember." She cleared her throat and lowered her voice a bit. "There are the rumors, of course. The Watcher in the Water and all that, but I don't give it much credence."
Desdemona nodded, thinking. Should she trust Winter with what she had discovered?
Winter shook her head. "I helped you? That's not how I remember it." She gave John a small, weak smile. "You saved the lives of dozens of people on Briarstone. You definitely saved mine. And now I've brought you into some unknown conflict between the Crown and Iris Hill. If anyone deserves anything, you all deserve medals."
"All I need is Accuser Omari back. If they've killed him and the rest of my team... that's open conflict with the Crown. I don't even know how to approach that on my own." She looked around the table and leaned in, dropping her voice even further. "One thing I learned last night is that we're on our own. The Accusers are all tasked out and without a Count to deploy regional forces on the throne's orders we won't be getting any further military support. Even if there were help to be had, I suspect the Prince would want to keep the story of a Royal Accuser being murdered quiet." Winter shook her head. "We can't count on any help, save for allies we can cultivate locally."
Desdemona nodded again, to herself this time. Winter seemed a decent sort. "I'm sure we shall do what we can to prevent any unfortunate circumstances." Lowering her voice, she continued, "I have some concerns that pagan religions do indeed still flourish here. I found evidence of this at the bookseller's shop. You might want to step carefully on religious grounds."
Leaning back, she continued, "However, if you believe Accuser Omari is still alive, then I think that does take precedence. Perhaps we should look into recovering him, if not the rest of his team, before we pursue other avenues of inquiry." She gave the others a questioning look.
Desdemona nodded again, to herself this time. Winter seemed a decent sort. "I'm sure we shall do what we can to prevent any unfortunate circumstances." Lowering her voice, she continued, "I have some concerns that pagan religions do indeed still flourish here. I found evidence of this at the bookseller's shop. You might want to step carefully on religious grounds."
"The bookseller? Lowls's bookseller?" Winter frowned and leaned back in her chair, a thoughtful look on her face.
Leaning back, she continued, "However, if you believe Accuser Omari is still alive, then I think that does take precedence. Perhaps we should look into recovering him, if not the rest of his team, before we pursue other avenues of inquiry." She gave the others a questioning look.
Winter nodded. "If you do, tell me first and I'll go with you. If they were able to overpower Accuser Omari, his team, and a couple of Sleepless agents then they're a formidable group. I know you're a formidable group, too, but I'm willing to help." She frowned. "And... I want to know as quickly as possible, either way."
"Should we start looking for the Accuser at Irish Hill?"
Reine had been staring off into space since Winter had mentioned the "Watcher in the Water." Something... But no. Nothing came to mind.
She came back to the conversation with a slight start. Had she heard Winter say "we," when it came to allies? Hmm. That was interesting. As was the admission that she had gotten them into the middle of something dangerous, and unknown.
Then again, the group was used to that, weren't they?
"Iris," she corrected John, absently, almost without having realized she'd done so. "Hill. Northwest of town. Big building. If it's dangerous to go there," she turned to Winter, "just how good are the odds that the Accuser is there, alive, and would be released to us if we asked?" Reine shrugged and looked at each of the others. "What leverage do we have to get the Accuser released? Do we even know he's there? Or alive? As much as we might want to, if we showed up demanding to see the Accuser, and they told us to pound sand, it sounds like we don't yet have the strength to force the issue. And you," she looked at Winter again, "you need some sort of legal proof to demand anything, don't you? Even in your position?"
Reine pointedly didn't mention the fact that a single person, regardless of the position they might hold, wasn't likely in a position to actually demand and get anything from a group that had dug itself in as well as this one seemed to have.
Winter shook her head. "Fort Hailcourse, not Iris Hill. Iris Hill is the Count's manor, Fort Hailcourse is the seat of the county's government." She sighed, sounding and looking tired. "We need to eventually get into both, I think, but according to Miss Wrentz the Fort is where the Accuser... disappeared."
"An Accuser's writ is carte blanche, as long as it's in the interest in the investigation. But it's as you say- if we don't have the strength to force the issue it's no better than any other piece of paper." The Pharasmin took a deep breath. "The threat of action from the Throne is generally enough to scare anyone into compliance."
She paused for a moment. "Though from what I've heard, we might have strength enough to force our way into the Fort. Miss Wrentz says the mercenaries left en masse. There can't be much of a force left there, according to her sources. Or maybe we could sneak in if the guard force is so depleted. If that is something you would be interested in doing, in any case."
"Sounds like we're breaking into a Fort." John says.
"Let's spend the day getting ready and try getting inside tonight."
Reine shrugged. "Sounds like as good a plan as any other."
"Makes you wonder why the mercs took off though, doesn't it? When did they leave? Right about the same time we all wound up in Briarstone, do you think?"
Winter shook her head. "A little over a month ago, is my understanding. Their leaving was the last straw for Magistrate Padgett; that on top of everything is what spurred him to request an investigation into the Count's spending." She looked up at the ceiling for a moment, calculating dates in her head. "From your asylum records that would have been about three weeks before you were admitted to Briarstone."
Broom had fallen silent as the conversation continued on. The revelation that as Doctor she still had the name Mashiki Malbourne troubled her, she had simply assumed that as Doctor she had simply been Doctor, much like she was just Broom now.
From what little she knew of Doctor, they didn't sound at all like girl she remembered back under the influence of the magic incense. That girl known as Mashiki had confused and disparate thoughts. The Doctor didn't sound like they were confused, so how could Mashiki be the Doctor?
But more disturbing, if Mashiki was the Doctor, then she had been working for the Count and from the way everyone else was talking that would have been a bad thing. So if Mashiki became the Doctor, and the Doctor was working for the Count, did she actually want to get her memories back and be either of them again? She was pretty happy being Broom.
The topic of shopping caught her attention. "Oh, We have a lot of things in Our pack that We are just holding. Maybe We can trade them for more useful things in town."
She had little to offer on the subject of breaching a fort. "We could have our magic hand put a hook on the wall to help climb over if needed." she offered, trying to be helpful.
"We shouldn't forget about the glowing lady either, she might have something to do with the strange things going on since she just started to be seen recently as well."
"We may have a better idea of how to deal with the issue of the fort once we've actually seen it," Desdemona suggested. "Meanwhile, I agree that we should take stock and resupply as we can. Do you think... with our previous reputations, that there will be trouble with selling anything we wish to?"