With that decided, the three of you head back to South Shore, and the relative quiet and peace surrounding the Pantheon of Many. Though people stream out of their houses and head north, there are no riots in South Shore at the moment. The three of you join the many people camping outside of the multidenominational cathedral. As night falls, the disturbing noises of shouting and fighting can be heard even over the Pillar Wall, though there's not too much to be done from where you are.
She informs the small group that Cressida has received an order from the new Queen. The guards are to pull into a holding pattern for a day while the crowds do what they do. Orianna sighs. "The Queen's order was delivered by her court mage Togomor, who literally said that if the commoners want to destroy their own houses, we shouldn't stop them. He demanded three more squads to guard the palace, and the guardsmen should fall back to defend important institutions: the Bank of Abadar the bridges, the Cathedral of Pharasma, the Citadel, the Palace, et cetera. He said the Queen has a plan to handle the rioters." She shrugs. "Anyway, you all should stay here. We're shorthanded anyway."
Darius was pleased to see his assessment of the situation matched their new orders. What pleased him less was the fact he would likely be without a drink for a few days if things continued to stay messy. He wasn't exactly sure what the Queen's solution for rioting was, but it was hard to imagine any solution that would calm things down in short order.
"Guess we've got little else to do," Darius says to Atticus and Anguela. "Get me if we're needed for anything."
The Silver Ghost holds back the strong urge to roll her eyes at the man. He was doing what she wanted, after all, so she didn't want to antagonize him any further. "Great! We can keep you company, you won't be alone."
She escorts the man back to the Pantheon of Many, where she proceeds to keep an eye on him. You know, in case he tried to sneak off on his own to some clandestine late-night ballet recitals. The Silver Ghost doesn't sleep that night. Instead she does her best to keep Amin Jalento comfortable. Despite his general arrogance, she had met far worse nobles than him, so she treats him with kindness and respect. Beyond that, she tries to keep the orphans entertained, and offers her help to any of the healers or guards around should they need her. She also keeps an eye out for Mackeson, resolved to find out what happened to him first thing tomorrow.
Once dawn comes, or when the riots seem to have cooled down, she bids Paige farewell and leaves for home. She sneaks into one of the stables, where she hides her costume in a special hidey-hole she had rigged for this purpose, then stumbles into the mansion, dirty and tired.
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Exhausted, Portia stumbles down the hall towards her room. If any of her staff ask where she's been, she says she wound up trapped in the Heights when the riots began, and then dramatically asks they don't bother her for the next few hours so that she can recuperate from that traumatic night.
Once she is alone and in bed, she sits up against the bedpost and closes her eyes as if meditating. She focuses inwards, recalling the techniques she had learned from the Pharasmans to calm her mind and body, making it an open vessel for the spirits who were mysteriously drawn to her. Once she feels fully 'open' in this way - her mind and soul exposed to the spirit world - she asks a simple question. Do you need me?
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Atticus nods to the lieutenant and delivers his report of the days events. Shortly thereafter he takes the opportunity to slip away from the barracks.
He takes to the streets. The Korvosan night was still alive woth danger, but he intends to return to his garden for the evening and that alone outweighs the danger.
He sticks close to the buildings and avoids the main roads, cognizant of the threat that wandering rioters may pose. He ducks down an alley and stops, first struck by the lingering odor of a sewer, then by the sight of a familiar face.
"Ah, the dwarf" he says. "Mackeson, was it? You still live, then. Good, though I can see that you are worse for wear. And alone now?"
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Mackeson curses under his breath as he undoes his makeshift armour kit, unknotting the rope and spreading his armour in an easy order to don in a hurry on the ground. He stuffs his rope back into his pack and sets to donning the armour, punctuating his strap-tightening with more curses.
"Idjits runnin' round on the street...kick that bald basturd in the nuts if given half a chance...people don't know what their fightin' bout jes' so they can stay a-fightin'..."
"Ah, the dwarf" he says. "Mackeson, was it? You still live, then. Good, though I can see that you are worse for wear. And alone now?"
Besmara's bunions, thinks the dwarf.
"Yup, I'm fine, never better," the excrement-stained and severely-bruised dwarf says as he turns in a wide circle in an attempt to finish tightening the straps holding on his breastplate. Satisfied with the state of his armour, Mackeson stops and looks at Atticus. "Where's the rest of your contingent?"
"The guard have been recalled to protect the heart of the ciry until sunrise. You look to be in something of an awkward position. My own home is not far from here, would you like to join me for the evening?"
Anguela spends much of their idle time at the temple watching Atticus and Darius, questioning their loyalty and fitness in her head and not displeased with the assessment. When they finally head out and reach the citadel, she breathes more easily, until she receives the infuriating orders that they are not to patrol without further notice. Gnashing her teeth, she nonetheless salutes Orianna and returns to the barracks.
Her temper is mollified slightly when she sees that Darius is stuck in here as well. She casually makes her way over to him and smiles. "Nice to see you again," she says, brushing the dust off her uniform. She looks around to make sure none of the other guards are in hearing or paying close attention, and continues quietly, "I apologize for being so aloof earlier when we renewed our acquaintance, but my arrival in the city is something of a secret, and I was not sure if our other companions could be trusted with the knowledge." Her grin widens. "Since it would appear our services aren't needed right now, won't you join me for the evening meal? The food here isn't great, but at least there is a lot of it. And it would give us a chance to catch up?"
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"Would you like to join me for the evening?"
Mackeson wrestles with himself internally.
He's a pompous git.
He's invited you to his home.
Probably to gut you like a fish.
He's an anal-retentive law-follower.
He might have decent wine.
He might not drink.
The city might burn down tonight.
You did REALLY WELL up against that mob by yourself.
The dwarf grunts. "Hunh. That's not surprisin' about the guard bein' recalled like that - ya know what? Shore, I'll join ye for the evenin', and much obliged. The name's Mackeson. Mackeson Slatethorne. I'm 'fraid I dint catch yer name in the dust-up back there."
Mackeson extends his hand to shake.
Atticus steps further into the alley and grabs the dwarfs hand "Atticus Montague deGrey."
He indicates the alley "We should away. I fear that my fellow citizens are still out of sorts and I do not wish to test their humours unnecessarily."
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Mackeson grunts in impressed fashion despite his normal countenance.
"That's an impressive garden. And you did that all yerself? That takes a time to get them plants to grow. I've never been good at growin' things." Mackeson trails off to a sagely nod as he stares in wonderment.
Cayden be, I hope Paige and Ghost fared as well as me, he prays off-handedly.
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Once he is certain the estate is secure Atticus welcomes his visitor. The garden is thriving with trees and flowers.
He does not have wine, he does not often partake. What he does have is absinthe.
As the night went on, the violent riots evolved into an uneasy peace. As the guards withdrew and the wealthy fools who found themselves on the streets either escaped or fell victim, the marches stopped. In their place, several sections of the city are walled off with large barricades that block off main roads and neighborhoods in West Dock, East Shore and Old Korvosa. The guards have retreated from active confrontation but maintain watchmen near each of these armed enclosures.
The city is quiet. Very few people walk the streets. Commerce has slowed to a crawl, with only a few merchants willing to attend the market squares. No fisherboats fill Jeggare Harbor. Today is a day of limbo - nobody is quite sure what will happen next, so everyone is waiting indoors, in their houses.
Then, it disappears.
No matter how many times she has completed her ritual, or how many visits she has received in the night, seeing an actual spirit still causes her blood to run cold and the little hairs on the nape of her neck to stand up. And then just as soon as it appeared, the spirit vanishes again into the night.
Her initial reaction is frustration. Frustration that the spirits weren't helping her find Markus, at least not directly. And what did it mean? She needed to go find Mackeson, probably, and Paige. But did she really have to seek out those stuck-up guards? The old guy, Darius, and the snooty flower knight, Atticus. Oh, and Anguela. That one didn't seem too bad - at least she tried to help... but then again she also watched her try to rip out a guy's throat with her bare teeth. That was a tad disturbing.
She flops down into her soft bed and turns out the oil-lamp she keeps on the bedside table. Maybe, just maybe, if she sought those people out it would lead her to Markus. Or Lamm. Gods, hopefully not both. In any case, she needed some sleep, pronto. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.
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Portia doesn't awaken again until just two hours before noon. Her staff at this point knows better than to try and rouse her too early in the AM - they don't even bother running her "morning" bath until nearly noon. She dresses up for riding and eats breakfast - eggs benedict over a warm, flaky roll and served with buttery soft pork that had begun roasting the previous night. She is cold and distant to her staff this morning as she replays the events of the previous night over and over in her head.
Afterwards she heads to the stables - ostensibly to visit her mare, Honeysuckle, but in reality it is to smuggle her dirty costume and gear back out from the long box she keeps hidden under the hay behind the salt lick. She folds it up and carries it back to her room, where she proceeds to hand wash it in her own bathroom. She hangs it up to dry inside her closet, hidden inside an opaque garment bag over top of one of her other dresses. Thankfully, she has another costume hidden in her shoe closet. Making sure the door was locked, she dons her costume....
The Silver Ghost is uncomfortable walking the streets during the day, but given the events of last night, she isn't confident that a noblewoman should be out and about either. In any case, she had informed Alethia previously that she was headed to the Temple of Shelyn for worship. And it was only a half-lie, which is the best kind of lie. She was definitely headed to a temple... just not to worship.
Ducking through the iron gate, the Silver Ghost draws her hood up and her grey cloak around her shoulders. She heads to the Pantheon of Many, hoping to seek information about Mackeson or Paige's whereabouts. She had made an effort to get to know the clergy who worked here the previous night, so hopefully they would be willing to help her out. She knew that Mackeson had a tattoo parlour there, so with any luck, someone knew where he lived. She wanders around the crowds, seeking out people - especially Caydenites - and asking questions about Mackeson: "You know, a dwarf named Mackeson, about ye high with a grey mohawk...lots of tattoos. Nice guy. Drinks a lot. Like... maybe a little too much." She also checks to see if the Sarenrites and Paige were still there, hoping to find out if the orphans were doing alright, or if they had relocated to their own temple. Finally, she keeps an eye out for Lord Jalento - in case he was still around, she would like to escort him home.
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The morning seems a bit more unhitched than many.
"Bleedin' green demon," Mackeson curses to no one. "Where the hell?" The dwarf pushes himself up off his face and sodden beard in the comfortably soft bed. Remembering a few bits of the late evening's particpants, he hurriedly checks under the sheets, discovering the clothes that he wears under his armour. His pack and armour rest in a sorted pile on the other side of the small room. "Never follow a noble to a second location," he quips to himself as he scurries out of the comfortable sleeping arrangement.
The details of the late evening continue to elude the dwarf as he quickly gets his belongings sorted. He had awoken in odder locales, to be sure. An addict thrice-over, the dwarf was well-used to not remembering details of previous evenings and waking in various sites and states, so the disorientation didn't bother him too much. Still, there was something about last night that made this morning feel more desperate, the morning sun less warming.
Mackeson pushed open the door from his guest bedroom, peering around to try to find the most direct way out.
Atticus will have guard duty for sure. I'm not a part of his fold. I'll just tuck out before...
A retainer attending to the estate directs Mackeson out. Atticus follows shortly after, heading for the Citadel.
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- - -
Amin Jalento, the Sarenrites, and Paige have cleared out by the time the Ghost gets to the Pantheon of Many. Apparently Amin went home when the crowds condensed into barricaded neighborhoods and the Sarenrites went back to shelter in their own temple.
The Silver Ghost is able to speak to several clerics who know of Mackeson's little boats where he lives in. "Poor guy, basically homeless," says the head Shelynite, a delicate Varisian painter known for his street art.
The Silver Ghost frowns at the news that Mackeson basically lives like a beggar. She smiles and thanks the Shelynite for his time and is just about to leave for where he lives when... speak of the archdevil...
"Mackeson!" she says, grinning. She rushes over to him. "I'm glad you made it out okay. We managed to get that noble away from the crowd, and then lost sight of you."
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Mackeson grins at the vigilante. ”Didn’t know you types had daytime hours,” he grunts. ”Good ta hear that that fool got away without gettin’ skint alive. I took a few licks from that crowd, but it weren’t nothin’.”
Mackeson glosses over where he spent the later hours of the night.
”I heard that the city guard got recalled last night to protect the rich people, leavin’ the unhappy rioters to close down sections of the city. It’s a ghost town out there, ta be sure.”
Spending the remainder of the night in the guard post hadn't been what Darius had expected, but it seemed Cress wanted to play things cautiously, which wasn't surprising. Still it made for a dull evening given the lack of access to a place to drink. He's sitting around looking rather bored when Anguela shows up.
"Hello again," Darius says, "See they've got you doin' nothing much either. Don't worry about earlier, and why not. Nothing better to do, might as well get some free grub out of the deal." With that he gestures towards the mess hall letting Anguela lead the way.
After arriving in the hall and grabbing a plate of the slop they call food, he sits down at one of the empty tables. "Not sure how this all is going to shake out. It was a real mess out there. Hopefully there'll be some city left tomorrow."
The next morning Darius gathers his gear and dons his armor again. After he's prepared, he gathers anyone he can find and heads to see if Orianna or Cress have orders for them today.
The Silver Ghost smirks. "Normally, no, but it seems like today is a special exception. Yeah, I've also heard it's still terrible out there. And with the guard holed up at the barricades, I'm sure that some unsavory types are taking advantage of the situation." She purses her lips as if the very thought was sour to the taste. She sighs and crosses her arms, reflecting on the situation.
"To top it all off, that slaver, Lamm, is still out and at large...doing gods knows what to some innocent kids...." She clenches her fist, resolving to go out and find him, but then she remembers the strange tiefling that visited her last night during her meditations.
"Look, this is going to sound weird but I hope you'll trust me. I get these... these premonitions sometimes. They lead me to things. And they usually end up right. Like, once I was lead to that sick man, Jasvel, and then I was lead to you. And it ended up saving that guy's life. Last night, I had another one... I have a gut feeling that we need stick together and go find those guards from last night."
"I'm... I'm hoping it will help me find Lamm. Or maybe something different entirely, I don't know," she says, thinking of Markus. "Would you... be willing to go with me?" she asks, feeling rather lame at the moment. "I know it's vague, but it's all I have to go on. And when I ignore these things, sometimes... sometimes bad things happen."
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”Cayden’s guided me this far,” Mackeson grunts. ”Some non-believers would tell me that I’m havin’ pre-munishuns of my own. Hypocritical of me to be critical, so lead the way.”
The dwarf appears ready to head out. He stops shortly and looks at the vigilante.
”Of course, if I get a chance to gut that slaver Lamm, that’d be good too.”
The Silver Ghost smiles warmly at Mackeson. "Great! So... since they're not here I'm guessing they're at the Citadel, since I guess that's where they get their orders from. If not, perhaps someone there will know where they've been posted. I think that's as good a place as any to head to."
As she heads out, she doesn't respond to Mackeson's comment in regards to Lamm. Did he deserve to die? ...Probably. But she wasn't entirely comfortable with being the one to do it. Rather, she was hoping to deliver him to the Guard to prosecute as she would any other criminal. But with how the Guard handled the riots last night, she was no longer so sure if she could trust them to do the right thing. And if it came to it...
She shakes the thoughts out of her mind. She'd cross that bridge if she got there. For now, she needed to find those three guards from yesterday.
Anguela admits to being amused by Atticus, despite finding him difficult to work with. "He doesn't just have a stick up his butt, he's got a thorny stalk! A climbing vine!" she laughs. "Not bad in a fight, though."
"That dwarf Mackeson seemed like he would be good company," she says. "Friendly, though impulsive, not sure how much we could count on him in a situation that requires combat discipline."
She claps her hands in delight talking about The Silver Ghost. "She seemed like a celebrity, of sorts! Tearing through the night righting wrongs and protecting the innocent. Can you imagine living a life like that? Her heart is in the right place, I guess. I wonder if we'll ever see her again?"
Remembering Paige, she sighs. "That Sarenrae follower with the scars, I truly felt for her. Seemed like she had suffered some hard times. I hope she finds the object of her wrath."
After an hour or two, once the dining hall has mostly cleared out and the conversations have become closer and more hushed, Anguela considers broaching more clandestine subjects. She tries to subtly shift the topic of their talk to the new queen and the people rioting against her rule. As if considering a new idea, she asks "I wonder if the rebels could be right. She is very young and has only inherited this title through marriage. She has no royal blood. Could her assumption of the throne be considered unlawful?" She glowers a bit, unable to hide all of her emotions on this particular subject, and bares her teeth to appear for a brief moment like a dragon. "Are there no more legitimate heirs to be found?" she asks plaintively, before biting her tongue and hearing what Darius has to say.
Anguela, Atticus, and Darius are all called together again, this time by Orianna. For some reason, Grau is nowhere to be found this morning and Cressida is far too busy to be giving orders personally. "Grau hasn't shown up for work this morning, and I hear you three worked together last night," she says. "Good. I have a mission for you." She flips open a map of the city. Circled in red are, apparently, the areas where the rebels have closed off sections of the city. She points to one near the West Docks. "I sent a squad of men over to this neighborhood to keep a watch on these barricades in this area. They haven't returned."
She huffs. "We've been ordered not to do any major assaults or breakups of these... rebel encampments for the moment. Guard uniforms will give you away. But I'd like if you would go down to the West Dock and see if you can find my missing men. If they're dead, I'd like proof. If they're alive, I need you to get them out."
Atticus bows slightly. "What are the names of the these men?" he askes
Orianna consults her notes before responding, "There are five. The sergeant's name is Verik. His men are called Baldrago, Malder, Karralo and Parns. Mix of old and new guards. They're all friends."
"Do you need anything before you go?"
Atticus nods and steps back in line. He's eager to move out.
With their orders received and no other requests for Orianna, she dismisses the three guardsmen. They head out of the Citadel and make for the West Dock. Luckily, it's quite close. Unluckily, practically the entire neighborhood is sealed off. Major streets have been piled high with trash, broken furniture, beached rowboats, and other miscellany. At each of these major intersections, the group can see small groups of Korvosan Guards sitting or standing nearby, keeping a wary eye on the fortifications. Small alleyways are free to be traversed, but someone might be watching. At least one alleyway that the group passes is actively guarded by a Korvosan, a red ribbon pinned to his chest and a pipe in his hand.
Coincidentally, soon after leaving the Citadel the three guardsmen run right into Mackeson and the Silver Ghost, who were coming to find them.
The Silver Ghost's eyes light up when she finds exactly who she was looking for without too much effort or time wasted on her part. She hopes her streak of luck continues.
"Ah! Just the three I was hoping to see," she says with a grin. "Hope your night wasn't too boring."
"Ah, it's...you" says Atticus as he searches momentarily for a name but recalls none "I hope that I have not caught you in the middle of committing to further criminal activity."
"They're both alright," he says about Atticus and Mackeson with a shrug. "Seemed competent enough, but not sure if the dwarf'll make it through the night. That priestess was going to get them killed. I expect the ghost'll make it through either way. Suspect we'll be seeing her again given that this mess doesn't seem likely to be resolved anytime soon. As far as the priestess goes, if her goddess keeps her naive ass alive long enough to see the morning, she should feel grateful. Can't say I expect that much though."
He continues eating as Anguela discusses the situation with the young queen, listening, but focusing his attention on his meal. He wasn't sure that discussing it would make a difference, but he imagined there were all sorts of people grappling with these questions in town right now. Mostly it just seemed to him to be above his pay grade. "Don't know that it's unlawful for her to ascend to the throne," he says as he breaks off a chunk of the small bit of bread he has left. "Probably not ideal. And if there were someone with a stronger claim to the throne it'd be a mess, but it wouldn't be unlawful either. Main problem is who the guards, nobles and townsfolk fall in behind. In my opinion, the faster someone can bring them all together and stabilize the city, the better it is for all of us. If someone with a claim pops up out of nowhere and can do that, then great. If they're just gonna cause more chaos by splitting the city further, then I'm not sure it's helpful. But neither the queen nor any random heirs to the throne are talking to me, so the point's kinda moot."
"So you all survived the night alright..." Darius says when they bump into Mackeson and the Silver Ghost. "That young sarenrite manage not to get herself killed?" he asks sardonically.
Atticus taps his chin "Unfortunately there are more pressing duties to attend to for us. I hope, in the meantime, that the citizens will collect their properties and return it to where it belongs. If not, I imagine that the guard will dispatch work gangs to dismantle them once the situation in the city has been stabilized."
She sighs. "Do you know much of the history of Korvosa, Darius? Particularly the rule of Domina Regnant, our late king's mother? As I've heard it told, Queen Domina 'The Great' was determined to secure the throne for her son, and brought the Order of the Nail to our fair city to help her murder all of the previous king's family. Chadris Porphyria III was not the best king Korvosa has ever had, but surely his heirs did not deserve such a grisly fate? Most of them were found and killed where they were hiding in Magnimar, but his youngest son managed to escape to Kaer Maga."
She pauses at this, staring into her drink and casually watching Darius through her long eyelashes.
Anguela appears startled but pleased to see the two heroes from the previous night. She looks slightly worse for wear, as if she is a bit hungover. "Well met, friends. Our night? Well, duller than yours, I'll wager, but not without some little excitement." She chuckles. "Did you manage to restore order to the city after we parted? Ah, I shouldn't joke, your intentions were noble and truth be told I would have liked to join you had not duty required me to stay."
While the others talk, she shrewdly looks the dwarf and the masked woman over. Then she says, "Neither of you seem much different to me by the morning light, though based on the state of your clothes, my dear Mackeson, I'd say you spent a hard night in a smelly, uncomfortable place. Is this normal for you? I don't judge," she adds, touching his shoulder kindly, "but for your service to the city I'm sure the guard can find you temporary lodgings until you can get back on your feet." Her eyes twinkle slightly, though she holds a serious expression.
"Paige is fine, she's helping the children get situated into their new home," she replies to Darius, cooly. Her eyes dart between him and Atticus, as she works to hold back her tongue. Ha, the guard would clean up once someone else calmed the city down, would they? Then what was exactly the point of the guard? What a bunch of a$~!&$$s, she thought to herself. But it didn't help anyone to antagonize them further... and the spirits had never lead her wrong so far. Perhaps they were testing her this time. In that case, she would need to rise to the occasion.
Instead she re-focuses on Anguela, who, despite her beast-like savagery, was easily the most like-able out of the other three.
"Well, we managed to save an innocent man from an angry mob, then I spent the rest of the night helping the Sarenrites back at the temple after we were separated from Mackeson, here. All in all a productive night of gallivanting," she says with a smile and a wink from underneath her mask.
"Where are you headed? Anything we can do to help?" she asks pleasantly, fully expecting to be told to head back to her home, and, who knows... practice her knitting, perhaps.
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Mackeson grunts at Anguela’s words.
”I ain’t a charity case, thanks, and I already got places to stay. And if my smell this morning offends, then you might blame the feather-bed I slept in last night.”
The dwarf avoids glancing in Atticus’ direction.
”But I wouldn’t. Now, do we have something that we can git busy doin’?”
"Wasn't born here, but learned enough of the history from my Uncle. Obviously wasn't right to hunt down the king's children, but battles for the throne are often unnecessarily brutal. Hadn't heard about any survivors though... Kaer Maga, hmm?" Darius studies Anguela for a moment, trying to size her up. The circumstances of her arrival had always been slightly odd to him, as he'd been pretty sure she'd come from a noble house. But here she was working as a guard instead of living among the nobles. But still it seemed too far-fetched to him. That sort of thing was something out of stories told to children, not something that happened in the real world. "Interesting bit of history if so. Hopefully no one ever got around to finishing the job and he was able to live in peace."
"Go figure," he responds to the Ghost. He didn't particularly feel like chatting any more than needed at the moment, so when the Silver Ghost brings up what they were doing, he points out that they were headed to find a group of guards that had been checking out one of the barricades the rioters set up. "Haven't checked in, so we were ordered to find out what happened. Feel free to tag along."
She smiles humorlessly at Darius's comment that "battles for the throne are often unnecessarily brutal," and wryly thinks that if their positions were reversed, hers and Queen Domina's, she would certainly relish the spilling of some House Arabesti blood-- but she'd make sure to give them a trial first.
She watches Darius, a mirror to his appraising look. He's careful, she thinks. He got the hint, but he's not sure I can be trusted. Well, la-di-da, how do I know he can be trusted? She snorts and looks away. "He still lives, as far as I know. I imagine he is following reports of the recent events of our city with great interest."
Anguela's eyes widen at The Silver Ghost's account, and she excitedly claps her on the back. "Well done! An innocent man is a rare thing in this city of ours, and we must do all we can to conserve them. We should have seen you afterward, but we were called back to the citadel by our commander. No gallivanting for the guards!" She smirks, then a flash of a troubled look briefly crosses her features. "He didn't report for duty today, but doubtless he is at home still recovering from the strain of yesterday's events." She shakes her head as if to tell herself not to worry.
She eyes Mackeson, puzzled he didn't respond well to her teasing. Or maybe none of the others had such a sensitive sense of smell as she had. Still she was certain his clothes had been splashed by something unpleasant, like urine or worse, and that he had been wearing them since the previous night. But if he didn't want to talk about it, she wouldn't press him. Instead she said, "Oh, not charity, my friend, but payment for your timely aid last night. I am grateful you intervened with that big brute, for truly I was in over my head. I fear I sometimes lack the restraint necessary to properly assess a tactical situation before charging in." She looks sheepishly at Darius, as if apologizing to him for something.
"Listen, I know it is against regulation to discuss our official duties with outsiders--" at this she looks significantly at Atticus-- "But I feel the two of you have more than adequately demonstrated your trustworthiness and ability to help. If you are interested, I think we will need all the assistance we can get. A group of guardsmen went to investigate some barricades put up near the West Dock, but they never reported back. The captain is concerned they may have been captured. We are to covertly investigate and report back with proof of what happened to them, or to rescue them if it is possible." She grimaces as she says "covertly," as if this is something that will be extraordinarily difficult.
Atticus taps his chin in frustration
"There is precedence for the deputization of citizens, that they may assist innthe carrying out of matters of the state."
"I imagine many more than him will soon be watching these events with great interest. Let's hope no one decides to march over here to 'help out' the city. Anyway, best we get some rest. I can't imagine tomorrow is going to be any better." The topic had veered into both strange and uncomfortable places, for which he had little tolerance today. Whatever Anguela was involved in was probably something he probably would be better off knowing less about for the moment, and that damned sarenrite earlier just made discussing his uncle that much worse than normal.
Darius shrugs at Mackeson, "Could say I'm glad you two survived, and that the help is welcomed. Suppose with the sarenrite gone we're finally free of unbridled naivete, which makes my day significantly more tolerable, and I should be friendlier for it. I suspect we'll have more to worry about than pleasantries shortly though."
The Silver Ghost's smile vanishes momentarily at the news of Grau's disappearance. She had almost forgotten about that guy from last night - he was very quiet, after all. She recalls that he was the one who pulled rank and kept the others from helping out any further while the riots were going on, but regardless of her own personal opinions of the man, she didn't want for anything bad to happen to him. "He didn't seem like the type to skip work.... Perhaps, then, once we're done, we could check in on him, to see how he is doing."
She claps her hands at Atticus' unexpected permission. Ha! Not that she needed permission. "Great! Well, then, Sheriff, shall we go?"