"No, we have not."
It could shed some light on our current situation... Nalun observes.
"We thought it wise to wait until we were on dry land before opening it, just in case the water were to ruin anything inside," Ortik says quickly. "But it's been one thing after another ever since we made it back. Now that we've a moment to catch our breaths, it's next on our agenda."
"Well, I kinda figured it would be just more contaminated coins, so I wasn't too eager to open that up. And you know me, I'm not one to pass on a locked coffer", Lyla blurts out, before realizing the latter part might not be a wise remark to make in Kroft's presence. "Eer... in any case, I can spring that open in a sec. Let's fetch it now," the girl says heading to the door.
"Oh, and I still think we might get some more stuff out of Jolistina once withdrawal syndrome kicks in. I hear pesh is a b***."
Kroft merely arches an eyebrow at Lyla before continuing back to her office, with the party in tow.
Upon returning to her office, they find it empty--it appears the Carowyns have left the premises. Kroft takes the coffer the party has been carrying and lays it on the great table before her.
"Now, let's see what they've been hiding..."
The coffer contains a collection of ledgers, invoices, and surprisingly enough, the deed to the Direption, titling one "C. Devaulus" with ownership of the ship and a cargo noted only as "specimens". All of these papers are from a group noted as "B7".
When Lyla notices the deed, she starts shuffling through the papers, looking for the passengers and crew lists.
After a few minutes of shuffling, the passenger and crew lists surface.
The names on the passenger list are completely crossed out, and most of the names on the crew list are crossed out as well. However, there's one name that's circled instead of crossed out...
Hyrgan Fairwoods.
Lyla's heart skips a beat as she stumbles into her brother's name. Though she cannot decipher the meaning of the circled name, compared to the crossed out ones, the memory of Private Clay turned into a wererat immediately springs to her mind. I hope Hyrgan is not involved in any of this. Lyla glances around to check if anyone's paying attention to her and discreetly tries to hide the crew list under her shirt before anyone has a chance to take a look at it.
While she removes the crew list from the pile with her right hand, she waves the passenger list in the air with her left, drawing attention to it instead. "Here, found the passenger list."
Ortik falls for the misdirect, reaching out to examine it. "Maybe there's something here we can use to find out more. That B7 group is new to me, though. Anyone heard of them in town?"
"No. Who is this Devaulus?"
Kroft looks at the papers and her face pales at the mention of 'Devaulus'.
"Wait a minute... isn't he the leader of the Queen's Physicians?"
"You're right. I forgot his name for a moment. Now it seems relevant. Maybe we should give the good doctor a visit."
"Oh, yes. Let us visit him." Karri whispers to the assembled group.
It's all tied together... Nalun says and he gives the others a sidelong look And its all rotten, starting at the very top.
The party makes haste from the halls of Citadel Volshyenek and set out into the reeking streets once more. The sun is setting, casting a blood-red light across the city; for many of Korvosa's ill, it may well be the last sunset they ever see before their time is up.
It isn't that hard to find the hospital Jolistina blathered about--several plague-riddled citizens are huddled near it, some clinging to its walls like a piece of driftwood cast out for a drowning man. Many of them look to be in the advanced stages of the plague, their bodies riddled with oozing sores and their chests heaving with great effort to draw in air. The hospital itself looks remarkably dreary: it looks to be little more than a repurposed two-story warehouse, with a pair of alleys leading to the back of it. Its stone walls are slick in places with blood, pus and other effluvia.
A ramshackle wooden door faces the street, and a flickering orange light can be seen underneath it.
Demitri frowns as he sees the city in it's wretched state. "This is wrong." However that does not stop his resolve as he makes his way to the door of the hospital.
The stinging scent of alcohol and medicine floods this dingy reception room, an odour typical to hospices, morgues, and battlefields. Across from the entrance sits a long wooden desk, beyond which a stained leather curtain covers an open archway, muffling moans from beyond. A single torch illuminates the entire room, burning next to the doorway.
Huddled on the chairs in one corner of the room is a group of six people, most of whom are greatly afflicted by the plague. They eye the curtain leading deeper into the hospital with a great deal of desperation.
Seated behind the desk is a burly woman wrapped in several layers--three scarves are covering her mouth & nose, she's clad in at least two overcoats and her hands are covered by heavy leather gloves. She gives Demitri only the slightest of glances before nodding her head at a quill & inkwell next to a pad of lined paper. The paper has many signatures on it, scrabbled in unsteady handwriting.
Demitri takes the quill and signs his initials.
The woman looks at Demitri's handwriting and nods to a free chair in the room.
Demitri takes a seat.
Nalun leans against the wall, scowling.
...It's all rotten. he mumbles
Karri nods to Nalun and whidpers, "Rotten and intentional."
"I'll stand, thanks," Ortik says, watching the woman out of the corner of his eye.
You hear footsteps approaching from beyond the curtain.
After about a minute of waiting, three men clad in long, black leather coats and stark-white crow masks step out from beyond the curtain. They silently look at the group of six sick people, with two of them moving to help them move through to the room beyond.
The third one waits for his fellows to leave with the diseased ones before turning his attention to the party. His face is completely covered by his mask, but even so, it feels as if he's staring the party down behind the mask's bleached-white eyes.
"...you don't look ill." The man says in a cold, emotionless drawl. "Why are you here?"
[ooac]Attempting to convey the idea that we want in, and we're good at what we do...[/ooc]
Karri steps towards the masked doctor, looks left and right, and says, "We want to know how we can help. Obviously you lot know what is going on. We want in."
"What she said. I'm sure you could use some help."
Nalun tries his best not to scowl at the man he thinks is responsible for all this pain.
"I'd say our reputation precedes us," Ortik says, straightening once the plague doctors enter the waiting room. "We have some skilled healers about us, and the city grants me aid that I might grant others."
When Ortik mentions a healer between them, Lyla raises her hand to go along with the ruse, even if she does not consider herself much of a specialist. "That would be me," she says seriously. "In fact, I've personally treated the disease. What techniques are you using? We can lend a hand... if your boss allows it, of course. The Queen said Devaulus is running the operation, right? Is he around?"
The masked doctor is silent as the party explains why they're here. He folds his arms and stands still as a statue.
"...hmm." His head nods slightly in acknowledgement.
"That would be me," she says seriously. "In fact, I've personally treated the disease. What techniques are you using? We can lend a hand... if your boss allows it, of course. The Queen said Devaulus is running the operation, right? Is he around?"
The man's head sharply jerks towards Lyla's direction. It looks like she has his undivided attention now.
"...Dr. Davaulus is in, yes." The man's drawl takes on the slightest hint of emotion. "...you wish to see him, yes?"
He... doesn't appear to have taken it well.
Nalun continues to watch...he is trying to keep his face impassive so he doesn't betray the party's plan.
"Something wrong? You want to cure this awful disease right?"
The masked doctor nods. "...we do. Follow me, please."
He turns and silently walks through the patchwork curtain.
The warehouse’s vast interior has been converted into one gigantic convalescent’s ward, the stench of alcohol, sickness, and waste choking each breath. Tight rows of low, stained cots cram the stone-floored hall. Every bed is filled with a pitiful story—men and women of all walks groaning and wheezing as they’re consumed by plague, their sufferings multiplied by the echoing chamber.
Several Grey Maidens stand around the room, guarding curtained rooms with a stoic, unwavering resolve. A series of catwalks runs about the second story of the building, and upon them patrol a pair of Grey Maidens with readied longbows. Masked Physicians silently sweep through the ward, occasionally tending to their afflicted charges, but mostly just observing them like a crow would a fresh corpse.
One of the Maidens turns her head to the party and looks like she's about to move to confront them, but the doctor waves her off with a silent shake of his head. He quietly leads the party onwards into the ward.
Demitri follows.
As the doctor starts leading the party to the northeast corner of the sick ward, one of the Grey Maidens steps in front of him and forcibly stops him.
"Where do you think you're taking them?" The Maiden's voice is sharp and emotionless. One of her hands moves to the sword at her side.
The doctor pauses. "...they wish to aid us in our work. They seem... sincere."
A heavy silence falls upon the room, broken only by the pained coughing of patients still clinging to life. The Grey Maiden seems to stare through the doctor before her head sharply turns to the party.
"You are not welcome here. Leave immediately." Her hand tightens around her sword's hilt. The other doctors & Grey Maidens in the room turn to face the party, their eyes on them.
In a whisper pitched to the obstructive Maiden's ear Karri says, "You know who we are. And that means you know we can be counted on to see our master's will done. Would you like to explain why such valuable allies are being sent away rather than to your betters?" The scarred girl's voice has a cold edge to it and she adds, "Maybe you could be the next to fall out of favor with her Majesty's plans?"
The Grey Maiden takes a small step back in surprise that someone would so boldly talk back to her. She says nothing in response to Karri's hard-edged words, but she makes no move to interfere any longer.
The doctor wordlessly moves past her and leads the party up the stairs, past the catwalks above the sick ward and up to another room. The rough functionality of the warehouse below gives way to beige tile and a white hall on this more officious- looking floor. A door engraved with images of rampant gazelles stands to the south, their once fine teak bearing obvious scores and gapping chips from rough use.
Two more Grey Maidens eye the party as the doctor escorts them upstairs, but they don't make a move to stop them. The doctor starts fumbling in his coat for something as he turns to the party.
"...my master is beyond these doors. Are you... certain you wish to speak with him?" The masked one asks, his voice as cold as ever, except this time it comes out... stilted.
Demitri can't help but smile as Karri makes her threat. Though he couldn't hear her exactly, he knew what was transpiring. "I think we are."
The prospect of an answer, any answer coming brings out an excited hiss from Karri, "Oh yes. We are ever so anxious..." Beneath the surface Legion bubbles and surges with antici...pation
Nalun keeps an eye out...this is gonna go south pretty quickly he's sure of it.
The masked doctor stares at Karri & Demitri for a bit before turning back to the doors and knocks on one.
"...I forgot my key."
The door opens and another doctor steps aside to let them through. Rows of white-sheeted beds line the walls of this room. Each is occupied, every bed bearing a patient restrained by leather straps that bind the figure to the sturdy metal frame. At the room’s centre stretch simple wooden worktables, each covered in fluid-filled beakers, intricate glass tubes, small burners, and other alchemical instruments.
Several more doctors hover over the patients strapped to the beds. Curiously, every single patient here appears to be free of the plague--and of Varisian descent. They look to be drugged enough that they stare at the ceiling with blissful expressions on their faces. An odd censer in the centre of the room fills the air with strange smoke.
The doctor wordlessly leads the party past the patients in the room and moves to open a door on the south wall. "...master, I bring others who wish to... aid... us."
He then steps aside to let the party through to the room beyond.