The Father of Waters

Game Master Fighting Chicken

Drazan kneels over the ragged breathed man bending at the knees propped up on the balls of his feet. "Why did you do this, what cause lends you to throw away your life? Answer this and they will spare you. Think of your mate and children before you refuse. What will happen to them now that you are no longer with them? Think of all of life's beauty you have sacrificed for the eternal darkness that awaits you, wouldn't you like more time?"

"You might be surprised by the range of my power, Priest." Imix boasts. Once in the middle of the caravan, Imix concentrates, and a surge of healing energy spreads out across the charnel grounds of the ambush point.

"Not those two" he gestures to his apprentices, and then to 'Lefty' and 'Righty'.

Once the injured are stabilised, he looks around for any ally that was unaffected, gesturing for others to follow Oios order and bring them in.

Only when he has everyone he needs in range does he continue.

Istiel does not hear Oios' words- or more accurately, she chooses to ignore them. Consumed by questions that could shake her faith, she finds the only possible answers lying in a muddy boot-print heading out of the orchard.

Silently, she slips away from the Excise to follow the trail.

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Excise
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The apprentices hold off on Righty and Lefty, and with everyone gathered, Imix's curious energy billows out across the road, closing wounds, bringing those near death to consciousness.

The ragged-breathing defeated gasps as his eyes flutter open, and he listens wide-eyed to Drazan.

"My mate? My children? What has happened to them? Did the Fox Monk spare them? We couldn't help ourselves!"

Eventually, you all coerce a coherent narrative from the prisoners. More than a week back, a tall man wearing a Fox mask and bearing gifts of goldstones, showed up in the village of Wayrun.

Times had been tough. The last couple of years brought high temperatures and bad growing seasons, unusual for a town so close to the agricultural belt, but not unheard of in Wayrun - the town had petitioned the king for years for an irrigation canal to be built to their farmlands to mitigate drought, only to be ignored. Frustration ran rampant as the years passed, as each season the engineers worked nearby on various projects, yet never reaching the little farming village. And then just a month ago, their excise-head, probably fearing the wrath of another poor excise, simply absconded with some of it, vanishing into the night.

When the Fox Priest arrived, Wayrun was in a full panic, angry at the king for years of neglect, and fearful for the coming excise. The Fox Priest listened to the village Mayor, and he was sympathetic. He gave the town a sack of gold for their tribute payment, and gambled with the soldiers. He blessed nearby farms, and played with the children. He would help them, set them free. He had been good to Wayrun these last few days, and besides, who doesn't trust a monk, and a priest as well?

All the town had to do was to follow his direction until after the excise, and to sign a contract stating they would do so. They did so, to the last man, woman, and child. Contract signed, the Fox Priest left Wayrun, promising to be back.

And when the Fox Priest came back last night and commanded some twenty-odd of their people to grab their hunting bows and attack an excise, they did. Without reflection or hesitation.

Kalfu damn us I have not even heard of dark magic like this and now these cursed contracts are everywhere. Oios explodes shaking his head in frustration before making the sign of Damballah as a quick penance for his profanity. Settling back on his haunches Oios tries to penetrate the mystery. You will come with us to Cornucopia and you will relay everything you have said to the magistrates and inquisitors there. EVERYTHING. Is this clear?

Rigel listens in silence, baffled, her arms wrapped firmly around Issy. This is far, far, beyond her areas of expertise and she is happy to fade into the background while Oios conducts the investigations.

The defeated shakes his head. "No. We'll not go to Cornucopia. We'll be sent to the crocodiles, you know this to be true. You are a devout one! Show us mercy, as Damballah would. Let us go!"

"He only asks if you understand! He does not ask if you will come with the excise or have your story laid out for your people to see. Your life is no longer yours, you lost it when you signed that contract, accept your fate and do not anger the gods with your pitiful begging for mercies. Only one god forgives murder and even he would flay you and strangle you with your own intestines. You'll be lucky to be fertilizer for the crocodile dens."

Imix shook his head slowly in disbelief.
"There is some dark power in these contracts. Who knows how many now lurk like crocodiles in the river, ready to destroy lives."
"This is the second - perhaps the third, as this 'missing excise head' could simply have been killed - attack on an Excise. If this is widespread then it is a systematic attack on the system that keeps the army fed and provisioned." he looks grim "We will need to move to a rolling system to stop this happening again."

"As for him." He looks at the cowering man by Drazan "His only hope is if the Magistrates believe they were tricked and then compelled."

Damballah seeks justice and truth before he grants mercy Oios thunders back at the cowering villagers. And do you not think this Fox Priest who enthralled you will not come back to silence your village and try to bury the truth of what he did to you? I will not promise you what the judgments of the magistrates in the capital will be but if you come willingly and tell all of the truth then I will advocate for mercy. If you resist and do not come then I promise you all Cornucopia will know for sure is that Wayrun attacked an excise and then we shall see what they will do to your village then.

--------------

The five defeated know they have no recourse. So, with your group, minus two of your own but grown none-the-less, you set off back on your way.

As you grow closer to the capitol, the land becomes more uniform and predictable. Farmlands interspersed with well-designed waterways and criss-crossed with roads are common here. There is no wilderness - no old growth forests, no rolling hills blanketed with mountain grass - just well-kept fields of wheat and maize, barley and rice, the occasional apple or pecan or persimmon orchard, and the ever present canals, irrigation ditches, and roads, all kept in near-perfect condition, despite their heavy use.

And they are heavily used, here in the beating heart of the Valley. Flatboats and keelboats pole along the canals, laden with cargo. Travelers, mostly headed to Cornucopia this time of year, pass by the excise with regularity, as do Chasquis and soldiers. Out here, in the heartland, you’re just another excise. No one gives you a second look.

At the outskirts of the capitol, the farmlands give way to shacks, mostly of reed or mud. Only the poorest migrants, unsanctioned and without place or purpose, live here. Dirty water is pumped from wells, and hungry children watch you pass with hungry eyes. Those of your group- the Ostens, Issy, the apprentices - that haven’t been to Cornucopia before stare and avert their eyes all at once. It is a hard truth, that even in the shadow of power, there is such poverty, and it is a truth that is not often filtered out to the outskirts of the Valley.

Soon, you see the mounds take shape, in the distance beyond the cookfires and the smoke of the craftsmens’ shops - seven mounds in all flank the west bank of the Father of Waters, connected to each other by a forty-foot levee. The mounds themselves are of course much taller, and unlike the shocking state of poverty of the outskirts, the mounds are well known throughout the Valley. To the north there’s Bat Mound, the smallest, and home to the foreign quarter, merchants and diplomats from The Kingdom of the Sky People, as well as the displaced and the desperate from the Mountain Tribes and the People of the Reed.

Next is Fox Mound, home to the capital’s centers of learning, the campuses of the Engineers’ College and the Architects’ College being the most prestigious, but there are other small institutions here too; the War College, the People’s Library, the Stepped Archives, and the Valley Museum are all located here, and all are free to those with purpose, and of course connections.

The second-largest mound, Father’s Mound, is simply a wavy line. Here, the religious class lives and works, as do those that live in the shadows of faith - healers and apothecaries, potion-makers and “relic” sellers, as well as the touched and those in need of miracles. Of all the mounds, Father’s Mound is the only one to be touched with the desperation and poverty of those that live in the mounds’ shadows.

Then lie Fish Mound and Frog Mound, small, squat mounds each home to the capitol’s middle class - successful craftspeople, minor bureaucrats, and middling priests. These are quiet places, and the residents like it that way - soldiers patrol the streets, keeping those that live below the mounds from getting too close to the middle class.

The mound to the furthest south is Wolf Mound, and here the defense of the nation is planned. There is the Red Keep, so called for the crimson river stones it is built from, as well as the said blood spilled in honor of the Valley by its soldiers. If the War College on Bat Mound is the training ground of the Valley’s officers, the Garrison holds the newest and soon-to-be newest rank and file of the Kingdom - hundreds of youths drilling and learning and play-fighting the art of warfare occupy this triangular building at any given time. The Monks’ Mound - a large squat stone building built around a spacious twenty acre garden and courtyard, a “mound” in name only, in deference to the actual Monks’ Mounds of other Baunti settlements - can also be found here, as can the homes of the officers and career military men that live in the capital. The mound is of course the quietest and most orderly of all in the capital, and probably also the safest, excepting Crocodile Mound of course.

While the rest of the mounds run from north to south along the Father of Waters, that most majestic of rivers that surges even now so early in the spring at flood stage, inundating the marshlands on the east side of the river in some places for miles, Crocodile Mound is an anomaly. It runs east-west, the tail of the mound connecting to the levee between Father’s Mound and Fish Mound, while the body, with its orderly paved stone streets and neat bureaucrats’ homes starting at the tail, moves westward, those homes turning grander and interspersed with important businesses, governmental buildings, and eventually, the on the head of the crocodile, the homes of the nobility, large stately gray manors, and the most important governmental buildings in the land - the Royal Exchequer, where the goldstones and silverstones are produced, in accordance with ancient magical formula; the Supreme Excise, a warren of five-story warehouses and offices in which the wealth redistribution of the Valley takes place, the Chasqui House, where the fleetest men and women in the Valley are called to service, and finally, on the brow of the Crocodile, the tallest structure in the land, built entirely of obsidian, the Highest Hall, the King and his family’s own residence, domicile of Damballah’s mortal grandson. Beyond that, the rest of the mound belongs solely to the King - the private temple, the gardens and godswoods, fountains and other delights rumored and gossiped about by many but seen by very, very few.

The mouth of Crocodile Mound is itself a wonder. A quarter-mile deep with a carved stone maw, the mouth is lit with eternally shining light, said to be the gift of Ayida Wedu. Stairs wind up to the King’s holdings, and reliefs are carved into the stone maw, covering its entirety, an abstract history of the Three Peoples. At the tip of the mouth is the King’s Mound, a small mound that sits in the shadow of the Crocodile Mound. Here, along the ghats, is where the Royal guests sit for games of Palenque, the ritual ball game that the Tkoyah people love. Stretching out from King’s Mound is the Palenque Court, a long grassy field, ringed on all sides by a ceremonial canal, and beyond the canal seating for the citizens of Cornucopia. It is this field that your excise will camp, as will all the others from around the Valley, in preparation for the Tribute Day.

Imix tasks some of the personnel to dig a shallow trench on the edge of the path. "We do not want to feed the Ravens and the Wolves. They may become habituated."

He then goes from dead rebel to rebel. Each is checked for signs of life, dragged to the trench, and any items of value are confiscated. The apprentices are ordered to accompany him, and he points out anatomy as he goes.

Eventually all are moved, and he indicates for the dirt from the trench to be filled back in. "Oios, would you say a few words? Especially for Apchux - I fear we will not recover his body. I pity whoever he follows."

-------

Imix stands tall against the horizon when the mounds first start to appear.
"Ah. Cornucopia!" He says enthusiastically, then turns to his apprentices "Now you will see true civilisation." He turns again, this time to Texikuk. "With our spoils, we are closer than ever to a full Excise. Delays will win us no friends."

"Utzi." he announces "I presume you will guard the Excise when we arrive? Texikuk will liase with the administration? We will need to address the king himself, I think. Perhaps Oios, Istiel, Rigel - unarmed of course - and myself? I am reluctant to take the prisoners into the King's presence without instruction. Chukix, would you take the apprentices to my house and introduce them to the Order?"

Utzi spits and glowers at the prisoners. "They stay with us at the excise until the king can be met with."

It is dark by the time you reach the Golden Gate, a large stone and gold arch that grants access into the inner ward of the city, the area that contains the seven mounds as well as the Palenque field. A stonecloak, a member of the local watch, steps out of the gatehouse with his hand up, a command to stop. Following him is a portly woman, around fifty winters, her black hair pulled straight back into a bun, her lips pursed, her posture and plain beige cotton wardrobe immediately identifying her as a member of the Supreme Excise. Like all well off Cornucopians, she's covered in light powder, her skin given a light pallor, similar to those flushed of life. She jangles as she walks, all jewelry, and behind her follow two young men, also powdered, each carrying a large satchel full of rolled parchment and vellum. More stonecloaks follow them, ten in all, dressed in wooden scale, holding shields and spears, their faces covered by beaten copper plumed helmets.

Snapping her fingers as she approaches, she barks a command. "Shadeholme!", and the assistants spring to, searching their satchels, until one produces a vellum report - Texikuk's report - regarding the estimated tribute.

You can see Texikuk blanche a little, but she remains straight-postured, and courteous in tone, nodding to the woman. "Beatix. Nice to see you. You'll find, I'm afraid, that we're light this year. But I assure you there's good reason --"

Beatix nods, frowning, and then, for a second, her demeanor cracks. "Tex, Adham Dannet, the little beetle, has had quite the things to say about your people. Prepare yourself for it." Sighing, she snaps her fingers and the stonecloaks begin going through the excise, cart by cart and sack by sack, yelling out the contents to Beatix's furiously scribbling assistants.

--------------

The survey over, you're ushered through the gates, into the inner ward of the city. If those that live beyond the walls are the destitute, the poor, the migrant, and the laborer class, the homes abutting the mounds tell a story of a bit more wealth. These are working-class dwellings still, but people with some skillset - journeymen, poor merchants, the least of the bureaucrat class, the clerks and secretaries. The streets are narrow but straight and paved, the wells cleaner. On the excise travels, through the Green Gate into the Palenque field.

The green, anywhere else, would be little more than a muddy field this time of year, the grass just be beginning to sprout. Here in Cornucopia, however, in the shadow of the king - the grass is luxuriant and a deep emerald in color, stretching out continuously towards the Crocodile Mound - weather magic is at work here, to be sure.

The excise pulls itself as close as it can to the others, small caravans from across the valley, cookfires blazing, chatter and clinking cups to be heard all around. It will be difficult to set up the tents in the dark, but Utzi, Korya and the laborers spring to it. Chukix says his goodbyes and ushers the children towards the Suriname home. You stand, in the deepening night. By tomorrow evening there will be over a thousand souls packed into the western half of the green.

"Your name is Beatix?" Imix asks politely while the stonecloaks search the excise.
"I am the Suriname Imix. I have evidence that multiple Excises have been attacked. We fought off more than our own number in bowmen yesterday - losing people in the process. I have reason to believe this is part of a coordinated attack on the kingdom's excises. This attack being part of a strategy by a new force in the region."
"This goes beyond banditry. At best it is full on rebellion. At worst it is the beginning of a war."
"I believe that excises will be attacked as they arrived. Attacks that could be stopped with rapid action. Further this concentration of excises is the perfect place to stage mass sabotage - perhaps a conflagration, given our new opponents have some sort of fire magic."
"I have witnesses and evidence. The Excise itself - the whole Excise - is in danger. As a Suriname I am unable to issue the necessary orders. I intend to inform the King. As a courtesy I would like to inform the head of the Supreme Excise first."
He bows, gently. "Would you care to escort myself and my witnesses?"

Istiel eventually returns to the Excise, walking down the road towards them as they continue to move towards Cornacopia. She approaches the group and begins to reach her sack to produce a scroll case. "I tracked Fox Priest to Wayrun. He was not there. However, there were still villagers. They told me Fox Priest made them all sign contracts... such as this one."

She unfurls the bloody, cracking parchment that had been stabbed through on the gaurdtower table. "The mayor said Fox Priest made the guardsmen sign this, and then he simply left. They could not fulfill the contract, and could not leave. The guards killed themselves. I found the bodies and recovered this." The monk extends the scroll to whomever wishes to take it. "I assume you want this for evidence." Folding her hands below her waist, the monk lets out a deep sigh. "I was going to bring Fox Priest to justice, but he eludes me. I will tell the Masters at the Monastery about this attack. Fox Priest could be a rogue monk. But I do not understand his motives."

The warrior-monk pauses briefly, and appears to have more to say, but instead she simply shakes her head and resumes her place in the Excise. What if Fox Priest is not rogue? No, why would he be told to send these people to their deaths...

--------------------

Istiel had been brooding for most of the journey to Cornacopia, though the only one able to tell would have been Suuha. She was deeply disturbed by Fox Priest's actions. It was clear he never hurt anyone personally with the exception of punching her in the throat in self-defense- thus not violating his oath to protect the citizens of the Three Peoples. So if he was following his oath, then how could he be rogue?

When Imix begins to speak about the presence of Cornucopia's mounds, she perks up, and stares at the towering earth in the distance. "Suuha. Look, there. All that- made by people. That mound. Everything around it. This is what we can accomplish."

This was immediately dashed when they move through the slums, and she looks at the hungry, dirty faces staring back at them. I had forgotten about this squalor. Well. There is not enough room for everyone on the mounds. Some must live at the bottom.

She had not seen these hills since she left with Domhnall several years before, when he was selected as the Master of Shadeholme's monk mound. They were all wonderous, and represented everything she believed in- order, civilization, and law allow for the best of possible worlds. Of all the mounds, though, she cannot help but look at Wolf's Mound more than the others. The idea of having to request monks, and the threat posed by Fox Priest, weighed heavily on her shoulders.

Why couldn't I have been sent to fight instead. This was not a problem she could simply hit until it went away, and it made her nervous. Not for the first time, she was glad Suuha was there- though she certainly wouldn't tell him so, it would go straight to his head.

------------------------

Istiel is unfazed by the checking of valuables, and frankly disinterested in whatever politics are occurring with the Excise. The threats against Shadeholme did get her hackles up, but she knew everyone else had the town's best interests in mind and would surely clear this blame from the town.

Her only focus was getting to the Monastery as soon as possible. She informs Imix so. "Suriname. I must go to the Monastery. My requests and concerns are for the head Monk only. Not the King."

-------------------------

As they are ushered onto the green, the hustle and bustle seems to stop for the first time since daybreak. Dropping off her load of granite mortars, she turns to Suuha. "We must be off to the Monastery at once and request an audience with Blythe. I..." There is hesitation in her voice- perhaps some fear of the unknown, and lingering doubt about Fox Priest. A weakness she was not aware she was even showing to Suuha, who, despite his annoyances, had been her only confidant for at least three years. "...also wish to check the mask records for Fox Priest. I do not know how to access them. They will have sleeping arrangements for visiting monks. Ah. The baths are splendid as well."

Aftermath
To Imix
What you did to the boy... Had naught to do with his soul, correct? I do not wish to interfere with Suriname magic but this I must know. As for the bodies.. We must follow the correct rituals.

Bodies of running water are never hard to find and Oios has all able bodied members of the Excise, including himself, carry the corpses to the water's edge. He treats the villagers the same as the dead of the Excise, judging them as innocent and not leaving them to be eaten by carrion as befits criminals.

Close to Cornucopia

Isitel if you would may I carry the scroll? I must take it to Father's Mound to show it to the inquisition and the higher priests I am acquainted with. I will also give them an account of what has occurred so the clergy of Cornucopia will at least hear from Shadeholme first. Then I will return it so that you can refer it to the Monks and Imix can use his Suriname sources of knowledge. Someone must know of such dark works. I will meet you again at the Excise camp.

If this is agreed to Oios will move on ahead. As the others may have noted, the old man can move disturbingly fast when needed.

By the time the excise has reached the Golden gate, Drazan's heart skips a beat as he realizes for the first time that the man he was following blindly, as Drazan watched with wild eyes the inhabitants of the poorer city, was not a member of the excise Drazan was charged with keeping safe. The number of people was immense, and made Drazan's muscle tense out of reflex for the only time this many people gathered, there was often a life about to be taken in the fighting pits of his home.

It didn't take Drazan long to sight the excise he had come with, although they were much further ahead than himself so it would be wise to make up the ground quickly. A more difficult task given Drazan had not been overly exposed to the immense number of craftsmen and their plying of their trades, and Drazan was fascinated how a simple stone could be turned into a lethal ax or black rock transformed into so many implements including several copies of the kukris he carried. Drazan quickly forgot himself at the sight of a gator-toothed sword stopping Drazan and pleading to be picked up and examined. "A fine weapon." Drazan said matter of factually though it was meant as praise.

Aftermath
"It is a temporary thing." Imix waves his hand negligently "There, I have let the magic lapse."
He agrees to follow the priests directions, though he does explain "I had thought the bodies - at least of the bandits - might be of interest."

Cornucopia
Imix agrees "If I can gain an audience with the King, however, that must come first. Be quick."

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Imix
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Beatix stares at Imix for long while before she frowns, and then grabs Imix by the arm, ushering him off to the side. "You put me in a very difficult situation, Suriname Imix. So I'm certain you understand when I say that we've never had this conversation. I will deny everything I am about to say to you, to my dying breath. But, I worry there is something to your words. Three excises have reported that they were attacked. One was by a group of People of the Reed, savages that were far from home. None of those with the excise spoke Tooyah, and none that attacked the excise were taken alive. The other two, it seems to be banditry, plain and simple. But still... four excises this season attacked, and not all have even arrived yet? That is worrisome."

"I'll report the facts of the attacks to my superiors tonight, and request the Garrison-General step up patrols on the main roads. I'll request more guards for the excises on the green, as well."

Nodding, Beatix lets go of Imix's arm. "That is what I can do, Suriname, until we know more. What you do, of course, is up to you."

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Oios
-----------------

The Inquisition building sits, fittingly enough, in the shadow of Damballah's Grand Temple, a lean black tower attached to a rounded dome that mirrors the graceful minarets of the Grand Temple, only smaller, less ostentatious. After a few minutes wait, you're ushered inside, where guards accompany you through the entry dome, and then instead of up into the tower, down below it, where the real work of the inquisitives is done. Through a warren of hallways lined with solid oak doors, you enter into an office - the High Inquisitive Kastic's office, a large room containing a striped oak desk, shelves of books and rolled scrolls, a fireplace, and two plush seats for visitors. Lit candles line the shelves, casting the room in a dim light.

Behind the desk, to your surprise, sits not Kastic, but rather Jeremesh Lux, an able inquisitor in his own right, and a high ranking one. Looking up from a folded codex, Jeremesh sighs and gently closes the codex, setting it atop a neat pile of other titles. "Oios. Long time no see. I understand you'd like to see the High Inquisitive. I'm afraid the Acting High Inquisitive will have to do. Kastic died in his sleep five days ago. Whatever you have to say, it must be important, for you to have demanded a meeting with the deceased High Inquisitive. How can I be of assistance, former inquisitive Oios?"

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Istiel
--------------

Suuha walks silently aside you, apparently lost in his own thoughts. Eventually, he clears his throat and speaks, his voice tentative. "You did what you could, Ist. And you were impressive... I know that is important to you. I... I was less impressive. I killed a scared girl. I never even saw the Fox Priest."

When you point out the mounds, Suuha reaches over, absently puts his hand on your shoulder. "It is beautiful, isn't it? But look at all the poor. There seems to be more of them, or is it just me?"

-------

Blythe is much as you remember her, perhaps stooped a bit more, spry for a woman of over 80 winters. You never had much interaction with her before you left Cornucopia, but still she smiles and hugs you and Suuha, her embrace containing surprising strength. Her mask is a simple birchwood oval, the eyes behind them icy blue. The master monk's voice is warm, like what a freshly baked loaf of bread would sound like, if it spoke.

"Ahhh, Istiel! Suuha! My, you both look taller. Or more likely, age has shrunk me even more, ha! Beds are being made as we speak, and baths prepared. Tell me, how is life in Shadeholme? Beautiful area of the Valley, as I remember it, but it has been many years. And how is Dom?"

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Drazan
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The idea of being lost in this unfamiliar city is terrifying, more than any combat you've been in, strangely enough. You breathe a sigh of relief when in the distance you see, lit up by hundreds of torches, what can only be the Green Gate - a large stone gate studded with emeralds glinting in the torchlight. Beyond that will be the field where your people will camp, as Texikuk explained earlier. Sighing with relief, you take note of a small storefront within a larger two-story wood building, and your attention is drawn away from the gate by something perhaps even more beautiful - a large toothed weapon displayed in the window. Ducking your head, you enter the store where a young man sits behind a counter. He rises as you walk and gives you a quick nod of respect. "Take a look around, sir. Master's at the festivities, but I can help you if you need anything."

You were perhaps speaking rhetorically, but the weaponsmith's apprentice, a slight boy of perhaps 15 winters, with sandy blond hair and a lightly tanned skin, springs forward and stands by attentively, eager to make a potential sale. "It ah, is a fine weapon, sir. Can I ask where you're from. We get lots of folk from out of town for the excise, but I don't know that I've ever seen anyone - Anaisa Pye's canal!" The boy points to the weapon you gained from the undead horror in the crypt near Marinette's Folly. "What is that thing strapped to your back?"

Beatix stares at Imix for long while before she frowns, and then grabs Imix by the arm, ushering him off to the side. "You put me in a very difficult situation, Suriname Imix. So I'm certain you understand when I say that we've never had this conversation. I will deny everything I am about to say to you, to my dying breath. But, I worry there is something to your words. Three excises have reported that they were attacked. One was by a group of People of the Reed, savages that were far from home. None of those with the excise spoke Tooyah, and none that attacked the excise were taken alive. The other two, it seems to be banditry, plain and simple. But still... four excises this season attacked, and not all have even arrived yet? That is worrisome."

"I'll report the facts of the attacks to my superiors tonight, and request the Garrison-General step up patrols on the main roads. I'll request more guards for the excises on the green, as well."

Nodding, Beatix lets go of Imix's arm. "That is what I can do, Suriname, until we know more. What you do, of course, is up to you."

Imix sighs, forgiving the assault on his person as he belatedly realises the reason "Of course. I was trying to make you responsible for something beyond your remit. It was wrong of me. If the Gods saw fit to put me in place to see so much, it is because they needed a Suriname." he sounds faintly disappointed "Logically this is beyond mere coincidence, and into the realm of Divine Purpose. I always thought that when my Purpose came it would come with thunder and lightning - that it would be inescapable. The voice of Damballah, if you will."

Sighing the Suriname takes a moment to magic himself clean then heads off, across the Palenque Court to the Crocodile's Mouth, there to journey up through the history of his people - past all the great Suriname of the past - and to the Brow itself.

Drazan shrugs and retrieves the ax from near Marinette's Folly. "A twin headed weapon made of strong 'metal,' or at least that is what the monk said when she saw it the first time. It is lighter than the earth breaker, even the stone axes your people are so fond of making. The black bird guided me to the lair of its previous guardian where mercy was given, and this the spoils." Drazan holds out the ax twisting it to reflect the torchlight. Then looking back up to the boy, "Have you ever seen of such a weapon?"

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Imix
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Beatix nods. "Thank you, Suriname. You have a friend in Cornucopia, should you need one."

Taking her leave, the exciser makes her way back towards Shadeholme's tribute, before turning once again to you. "As to your purpose... who's to say it won't? Come with thunder and lightning, I mean? Damballah works both with a chisel and a hammer."

----

There is a staircase that rises, spiraling, like a wisp of smoke, from the top of King's mound into, and then through, the roof of the Crocodile's mouth, into the King's lands above. It is the most direct route to the brow - but it also heavily guarded. As soon as you approach the King's mound, a platoon of stonecloaks begin advancing down the mound's steps, spears pointed at you, shields held high.

"Stay yourself! Explain yourself! Just setting foot on this mound is punishable by death!"

-----------
Drazan
-----------

The apprentice's jaw drops, any lower and it would be resting on his neck. "It is beautiful! I... I have not seen anything like it. But I have seen something similar."

The boy looks around quickly, in a conspiratorial manner, although you are quite obviously alone. "Master told me never to go in the basement, but one day my curiosity got the best of me. Follow me and I'll show you. My name is Fulton, by the way."

Fulton pulls back a curtain, revealing the weapon-maker's workshop. A few pedal lathes, one able to hold wood eight feet in length and only operable by two. A tanning rack, currently with a rabbit skin stretched on it, no doubt to eventually be used to wrap a hilt. Sharpening stones, with obsidian and flint nearby. And a large river stone, flat and rounded, and nearby a bronze-headed hammer, for the beating and shaping of metal.

At the back of the room, Fulton pauses atop a staircase that winds down into the basement, his hand atop the stair's wooden rail. The boy's voice quivers with excitement, as he waves you forward. "Well, come on then!"

There is a staircase that rises, spiraling, like a wisp of smoke, from the top of King's mound into, and then through, the roof of the Crocodile's mouth, into the King's lands above. It is the most direct route to the brow - but it also heavily guarded. As soon as you approach the King's mound, a platoon of stonecloaks begin advancing down the mound's steps, spears pointed at you, shields held high.

"Stay yourself! Explain yourself! Just setting foot on this mound is punishable by death!"

Imix raises his helmet - the symbol of his rank - high. As he does a terrible thought runs through his mind Anyone could be contract-bound.

Istiel momentarily reflects on the people she killed when the Excise was attacked. "I am not proud of killing simple villagers either. But we did our duty and protected the Excise. Damballah will sort out His own."

Her eyes turn over to the shanties and shacks huddled beneath the mounds. "I suppose... yes... I do not remember such squalor when I was here last. It is strange."

------------------

Istiel walks through the monastery slowly, swimming in memories of exploring its ancient nooks and crannies. She only indulges herself in the memories after The Journey, not wishing to dwell on what was Before. She briefly amuses herself with awkward recollections of getting used to wearing the mask that is now her second skin.

Seeing Blythe was a pleasure to Istiel, who had always treated the matronly woman like a mother figure. Well, everyone treated Blythe like a mother figure to be honest, and her position as Head Monk of Cornucopia was completely logical.

Embracing Blythe, Istiel feels the old yet corded muscle underneath, and remembers stories about "Momma Bear" Blythe, who was said to always personally protect her students or trainees from harm's way. It was fascinating to Istiel that this old woman could still easily defeat a Stonecloak in single combat with her bare hands, and in her prime maybe even several at once.

After the embrace Istiel pushes the palms of her hands together in front of chest and bow deeply. "Master Blythe. I am glad to see you after so many years."

Straightening, the monk drops her hands to her sides. "Shadeholme's beauty is worthy of protecting. It was once a sleepy valley. Once." Suuha might be surprised by her dramatic flair at this part- little did he know she had been vehemently rehearsing this speech in her mind. "A group of Tooyah near Shadeholme were chased from their homes in the north by Mountain Men called the Razor Teeth. They meant to enslave, sacrifice, and devour the Tooyah for some evil rituals or worse." Her hazel eyes shine with the memories of a battle well fought, and the glory it brought her when she killed four of the savages, herself untouched.

"Myself and others from Shadeholme battled them on the hills. In the distance there were many other fires in the distance. Over twenty. Each with ten or more warriors. An invasion." Her stressing of the word was a bit redundant. Speechcraft certainly wasn't her specialty..."We spoke to the captives. The mountain men will return. They attack and disrupt the fringes of our great civilization. Shadeholme may be next. My master sent myself and Suuha to request additional monks for the defense of Shadeholme."

Istiel shifts a bit uncomfortably, unsure how to proceed with the next part. "There is more. On the way here the Shadeholme Excise was attacked by a monk by the name of Fox Priest. He wielded strange binding magic and forced the villagers of Wayrun to attack us as well. I did not personally see him hurt anyone, but through his sorcery the blood of innocents are on his hands."

She rubs her throat, still sore from the powerful punch delivered to it. Even her neck was stiff. The arrow to the gut certainly hadn't helped either, evidenced by her bloodstained robes. As much as Istiel did not want to admit it, she was not in good shape for a fight. "We fought. I was unable to subdue him. He has a habit of becoming invisible." Lifting a fist, Istiel slowly clenches it. "I swore vengeance on him for his crimes against Wayrun. He should be captured and put to trial by the masters at least. Do you know this monk? Is he a rogue? I request permission to use the Mask Archives to discover more information about him."

With a nod Drazan follows the boy, weapon still in hand the wooden rail of the staircase in the other.

Oios winces internally at the inflection on former though making sure that it does not reflect on his face. Titles and stations had never much mattered to the old man but he knows that they matter quite a bit to others and it seems like it does to Jeremesh Lux.

He does however let his grief at the death of High Inquisitive Kastic show. Bowing his head he murmurs a quick but heartfelt prayer to Damballah to keep Kastic safe and to Legba to carry him to his final rest with all the honour that he deserved.

No one served the Three Peoples with more honour and dedication than Kastic. The loss is great

After that is done he comes back to the matter at hand.

I truly did not expect to come back to Cornucopia after retirement High Inquistive Lux but these are strange times and the number of disturbing events and dire portents that I have seen in just past the week is very troubling. I fear that a great enemy of the Three Peoples has been marshaling strength for many turns of the sun and is now confident enough of its success that it is making its presence felt.

Oios pauses to gauge what Jeremesh thinks of that before proceeding with the start of his story

On the first of Gohzran I arrived in the small town of Shadeholme at the invitation of Head Priest Telowo with the intent to settle there. But I discovered that there were problems at the edges of the Three Land. Some Tooyah refugees were causing distress to the townsfolk and I volunteered to go with a small group to see what the fuss was about as I know their tongue. What we found there was the start of far worse than a scared fisherwoman. The Tooyah had been taken by violence. We followed the trail and found a camp of Mountain People. They had... eaten one of the Tooyah. And sacrificed another to release some... shadow beast that flew into the sky. We fell on the six Mountain Men and slew them saving a few Tooyah and capturing one of them. This was just one camp. We counted almost thirty more judging from their fires.

Pausing to let Lux do the math Oios continues

From the Tooyah I learned that their waters in the North had been failing for years, turning into sulfurous poison and then Fire Peaks Men invaded causing them to flee to the South. From the captured Mountain Man we learned that a Fire Peaks priest with a half bird half reptile shadow beast has been travelling and uniting all the Mountain Tribes and ordering them to take captives and sacrifice them to what they call the 'Thing-Within-Shadows'. When Shadeholme requested volunteers to escort their Excise to Conucopia I volunteered again to bring this news from the outskirts to the center

Oios doesn't relay anything of what they found on the trip. Waiting to see how the new Head Inquisitive would react to his story.

---------
Imix
---------

With a green flash, a gentle spring breeze carries the scent of honeysuckles across the green, and a nearby statue - that of the Palenque great Palto - lowers his kicking leg and breaks off from its base. Scooping you up, the statue begins its climb up the steps of the King's Mound. The soldiers, tense, but don't shoot. However, immediately a horn sounds, and then another, from somewhere on top of Crocodile Mound, three quick bursts, and then one, long and drawn out. The soldiers close behind you as the statue climbs the steps, their bows pointed, cutting off a possible descent. Another horn sounds, five sharp blasts, then a long blast, and then two more quick notes.

Atop the King's Mound, gardens lie, in full bloom, the air present, and a slight breeze blowing out from the cavern. A large wooden pergola, blooming morning glories climbing it, stretches the width of the mound, two thrones in the middle, plush seating to each side, and a long striped oak table stretching the distance under the pergola. The statue, still holding you, steps up onto the table and then down the other side and through the pergola, splintering its lattice as it goes. Behind it lies the spiral staircase, which spirals up into the cavern ceiling. On the statue climbs, taking you up the staircase, the bowmen following. Eventually, you come up into a cool fir forest, in the middle of a gazebo which itself lies in the midst of a red brick path. Surrounding the gazebo must be a hundred warriors, weapons drawn.

From behind the warriors steps a man, pale and grizzled, the growth of two days' beard gracing his face. The man wears an eyepatch, which means that he can only be Tazzuk the Eye, the King's Castellan, right hand, and closest confidant. Tazzuk whispers something in the ear of a nearby soldier, who sprints for the treeline.

"Clever, Suriname, clever. You must have some reason to test our soldiery like this. Please stay your statue, and understand that if it takes another step, you'll get no walk to the crocodiles."

So you stand, for awhile, the minutes flowing by, and eventually your statue's temporary life leaves it, leaving you and only you in the fir forest, among perhaps hundreds of enemies. Tazzuk seems to know the statue is just a statue again the moment it happens - he waves his hand and two servants come swiftly from the treeline, and set up a folding table and chairs, while two more bring cups, a pitcher, and a platter of meats and cheeses - cured pork and salty sheep's milk curds, judging by the look of them.

Tazzuk the Eye points to a seat while the servants fill the cups with mate, and then the Castellan takes the other chair, raising his uncovered eyebrow in a question. "Well then, are you going to tell me why you risked death for such a flamboyant entrance to our king's grounds?"

---------
Istiel
---------

Blythe's posture raises slightly in surprise as you ask for monks, but she slides the shock easily from her body, waving her hand at the same time. "Done. Dom wouldn't ask if he wasn't worried. I can give you twenty warrior-monks for your defense. Some may be green, though."

When you ask about the Fox Priest, her reaction is more subtle, just a slight widening of the eyes. She doesn't answer your question, exactly. "Well then. Let's see what the Mask Archives tell you."

The Mask Archives are part of the larger monastic library. The Archives are located in a back room, stacked with shelving, much like one would see in a wine cellar - only instead of bottles, the shelving holds scrolls, shelf upon shelf of them. More lay scattered on various tables, some unrolled, some not. Monks are by nature creatures of rigid determination and order, but unfortunately, this mostly pertains to their own personal space and ritual. This public area, though not often used, also hasn't been afforded the same attention to detail, and the monks have never, to your knowledge, had a professional librarian since Hanna the Meek took the Journey and later founded the library, some 400 years ago. Suuha whistles when he sees what lies in front of you. "I've never much cared for books, let alone scrolls, Ist. How you want to tackle this?"

Istiel bows her head in reverence when the additional monks are granted to Shadeholme's defense. "Thank you Master Blythe. The monks can join the Shadeholme Excise when they are ready."

She watches Blythe's reaction to Fox Priest with a touch of incredulity. The lack of a true reaction, or any answer at all, is troubling. Yet it would be disrespectful to pry further, and access to the archives was gift enough itself.

Standing in the Mask Archives, Istiel begins to wonder what she is getting herself into. It is a wonder the mask craftsmen are able to find anything in here, and she feels a moment of pity for the apprentices that are undoubtedly tortured by being sent to find documents in here.

Silently, she curses Hanna the Meek for not being immortal and dying to leave this mess. In response to Suuha's question, she shrugs. "One scroll at a time. First we determine if there is any record Fox Priest has gone rogue." Pointing to the farthest shelf, she walks over and squats, pulling out a dusty roll of parchment. "Perhaps there is some order here. Date of creation."

Hours pass. Istiel feels her brain burning and eyes watering. Her stomach grumbles a loud, forceful complaint about its emptiness. There had been so many masks. So much history. Boring history. Even the battles were boring on paper. What is more glorious? Mucking stables, or... this? At least the horses appreciate mucking. Her mind wanders, and part of her she wishes that Fox Priest would simply appear from thin air and cave in her skull with a table leg.

Inhaling sharply and shaking her head to clear the daydream she reaches for yet another scroll. Groping, the monk half-heartedly knocks some scroll around, grabs one, and pulls. Another nearby scroll catches the wooden handle and comes tumbling out of its cubby, catching another scroll, which catches another scroll....

Istiel immediately reacts, desperately flailing and trying to catch falling paper as the scrolls unroll and dive to the floor. Despite her lightning reflexes the surge of paper is too great, and she stands with an armful of papers while the rest of the scrolls unfurl along the ground away from her, unwittingly divulging their knowledge to the floor.

A beat passes, and she looks down to the armful of paper and the rapidly receding scrolls. Her left eye twitches. A tremor begins in her face, spreads to her trunk, and soon takes over her whole body. A dull roar begins in the back of her throat, and reaches a crescendo as she tosses the armful of paper to the ground. "RrrrrrAAAGHHHH!!!!"

She raises her hands to grab the shelves with the intention of pushing over the entire assembly in rage, dirty fingernails digging into the long unpolished wood. A voice, unmistakably Domhnall's, drifts through her consciousness like a soft summer breeze. Anger becomes chaos. Chaos erodes natural order. Without order we are merely beasts.

Probably to the surprise of Suuha, she stops, panting, and her hands slide from the wood slowly, forcefully, with her nails still dug in. Bits of surface wood flake off as her nails scratch deeply over them, until her hands are back at her sides.

Exhaling slowly, Istiel bends over and begins to roll a scroll back up, acting like nothing ever happened.

She continues researching through the evening and morning, stopping only for food, water, and exercises.

Of course this is just her rolls, if Suuha comes in with the assist on the first one things could be different.

Imix looks off into the distance for a moment, then back to the Castellan.
"I don't test our soldiery - I have every confidence they are good men and women. I am being flamboyant - and on purpose. There is, I grant, a good chance the King will execute me for that." The Suriname stares into the one remaining eye of Tazzuk, obviously judging, trying to make a decision.
"War. Traitors. Magic. Death. Perhaps even the end of the Empire. The bureaucracy has been undermined, it will not suffice to save us. This is one of those moments that justifies the existence of the Suriname - a man outside the law. This is one of those moments that justifies the existence of the King - a man who is above the law."
He grunts and bares his teeth in anger "I have learned not to underestimate our new enemies. They cannot allow the King to hear my words. To do so is to wake the crocodile."
He looks once more into the eye of the Castellan.
"I know of you, Tazzuk the Eye. You are a loyal man. But I have seen loyal soldiers compelled by magic to strike down their sleeping squadmates. I have seen good villagers compelled to raise weapons against an Excise. Brave guards compelled to gamble until they killed themselves. I can not know how deep this Dark Magic has penetrated into our Empire - at least to the Village Head level - but they are fools if they have not tried to use it on those closest to the King. Perhaps they have targeted you. Perhaps the heads of the bureaucracy. Perhaps the guard captains. But they can not have compelled all of the good men on this mound. The King will hear my words now, from you or from another, even if I am killed."
Left unsaid is his fear that the King might have been targeted, for if that has happened then the Empire has already died, and its corpse has simply not yet been swallowed.

"Hear now, loyal Citizens of Empire. Hear the words a Suriname was prepared to risk execution to bring you."

"A Dark Force has risen from Under the Mountains. It takes the form of priests who worship things of Darkness, Feathers and Fire."

"The Mountain Men have fallen to this Dark Force. No longer are they Wild Beasts, now they are an Army. An Army with Discipline and Planning."

"The People of the Lake are gone. Their lake is dying, and the Dark Force used the Mountain Men to kill them. This was done in secret, and only the will of the gods let us know. Their lives were spent to summon the Gods of the Undermountain."

"Magic has been used to control people. Magic tied to Contracts. These Contracts have been used to raise Rebellion, Undermine Government, and Destroy Social Bonds."

"The Excise has been ravaged. Excise buildings raided. Excise heads co-opted. Excise stolen. Caravans attacked in the shadow of Cornucopia itself. The Empire faces Famine and Shortage."

"These are the first steps in War. War on the Empire by the Undermountain. This War has already begun."

"It is a War. We are losing."

---------
Drazan
---------
The stairwell descends into shadows, ending at a door. Fulton swings it open and disappears into the darkness, and for a few moments you can hear him bumbling around a bit, until eventually a lantern is lit. Descending into the room, you see the basement is essentially a supply closet, containing chemicals for curing leather, raw materials such as wood, stone, obsidian, and storage bin after storage bin.

Fulton is standing at one by the wall, smiling. Reaching into it, he throws aside a old dirty throwrug, and pulls out a chest with a wooden combination lock attached to the front. "I remember when this chest came in. Engineer brought it, said she'd uncovered it on a dig, then Master and him went in the back room. I tried listening, but I couldn't hear much more. Still, as I said, curiosity got the best of me. Came down here and found the chest just where it was now. Master's a decent weaponsmith, but he's not too bright. Combination is 1, 2, 3." Placing the chest on an unclaimed bit of shelf, Fulton dials in the combination and swings the lid back. "Must have cost Master a pretty penny. He was on me for a year to make more sales."

Inside the chest lies two objects. One is a book, large and bound in leather, with a broken clasp on the front. Fulton picks it up and opens it to the back, where he pulls out a fold-out plate. On the plate is a diagram, with what looks to be a round stone structure, on the inside fire. There's words too, runic and unfamiliar. Fulton shrugs and folds the plate back, closing the book. "I dunno. Can't make out a word of it. Don't think Master can either - book's been down here since he bought it."

Next to the book lies a dagger, much like what Rigel wields, but made of the same shiny metal as your axe. Fulton nods towards the dagger. "Pick it up." When you do, the dagger glows, faintly, giving off about a candle's light, yellow and warm. "Wild, huh?"

Just then, you hear the door upstairs bang open, and two voices - a man's and woman's - loudly singing. Feet clump heavily on the floor above you as the door slams shut. "Master!" Fulton whispers, his voice high with fright. "He'll whip me good!" Springing to the door, Fulton closes it softly and blows out the lantern, but not before you just make out one of the shelves, jutting strangely from the wall. There's something behind it...

There you two stand, in the basement's near-dark, the blade of the dagger illuminating Fulton's fear-stricken face...

----------
Oios
----------

It is a dangerous thing to play a game with a poque player, of course you know this. But then, you've had a long career serving as one of Damballah's shadows, and though you're not the politician that Lux is, you've always been good at reading people.

Though you've never been close, you've known Lux for many years - he's been an inquisitive almost as many winters as you. And many years ago, you had the pleasure of playing poque with Jeramesh - an actual game of poque, not the figurative one you are now engaged in. Then, in the midst of many cups of chicha, you picked up on a tell. Jeremesh, when he was holding a winning hand, would slowly twist the onyx ring on his left pinky finger, just as he is now, as you talk of Fire Priests and half-birds. It seems he's not surprised by much of what you say, and certainly not as much as he's pretending to be, but that perhaps is to be expected - Shadows of Damballah hold secrets close, like poque cards to their chests.

And of course, that night many winters ago, Lux took a month's savings from you. Perhaps you also have a tell?

"Your face is not quite the monk's mask you wish it to be, Oios. What else?"

Sincere apologies to all for the delay!

Rigel watches unconcerned as Beatix takes stock of everything (Thom's pack is in her own personal luggage, stowed on her back). If she were Tex, she'd just lie and blame shortfalls on the bandits - who'd know any different? Specially as a number of excise convoys have been attacked... She files that information away for future use. Somebody is profiting from this, and it might be nice to take a cut somehow. On the other hand... she looks guiltily at Paola, who damn near died in the assault.

No. Some things are just not done, and unprovoked violence is one of them. No matter how profitable it might be.

She listens up when Imix does his whole Suriname-bypassing-the-protocol thing; if there's a quicker route to the king, she can't think of one. On the other hand, she is travel-stained, dusty and weary beyond belief; and there's an unfamiliar yearning feeling inside that reminds her that she's spent far too many nights alone and chaste.

Also, on the other, other hand, there's a good chance Imix will just get himself - and anyone with him - executed. She originally wondered why people took such instant dislike to the Suriname; she now understands that it simply saves everyone time all round.

Besides, she has heard of the attacks on the other convoys - the king isn't exactly able to protect those close to home right now; he's not going to spare soldiers for Shadeholme. She'll have to find them elsewhere. She remembers her conversation with the Claviger noble: "I'm Bally, and you can find me at my family's manor - #12 River Lane, Croc Mound."

Making sure that Issy is safe, she asks Paola to keep an eye on her for a while. "I'll make it worth your time, honey," she promises with a wink. She then looks pleadingly at her near-sister, brandishing her bare, dusty arms and gesturing at her unwashed hair hopelessly: "Issy, honey, would you...?" They neither of them use the word 'magic' but that's what she is - obliquely - asking for: some minor cantrips to tidy her up and give her a makeover.

That done, she takes cover in one of the carts and hastily slides out of her travel clothes, donning the silk dress and jewels she acquired in Shadeholme with the mayor's scrip. The dress doesn't let her down: it's barely even creased. She grins in delight and gives it a twirl: amber, russet and scarlet fabric flies, flame-like; offset by amethyst, jet and pearl.

Fit for a meeting with a noble. She hopes.

With her silk gown trailing around her like a flame, she goes in search of this Bally, who was kind to her earlier. Croc Mound isn't hard to find, and - thankfully - she looks the part. Once arrived at 12 River Lane, she announces herself, hoping that he remembers her.

Oios leans forward.

I have never had much patience for games as you well you know High Inquisitive. I have made my business to reveal secrets rather than keep them. We both know this is why I have never risen in the ranks and why I was forced out but I am content with the consequences of my choices. There is more, far more, and far darker to relate from my journey. News of wolves and crows, of stags, and flyspeck rebellions, but before I proceed I have to know. How much of this was already known and what is being done about it?

---------
Rigel
---------

Cleaned up, magicked up, you have no trouble finding #12 River Lane, and as you suspected, Bally is quite surprised to see you. Surprised and excited, it is plain enough to see.

The nobleman is different from the men you know back in Shadeholme. The first unusual thing is the man's pallor, as he'd been preparing himself for the festivities, and as such is covered in the latest Cornucopian fad - a pale, almost chalky substance, giving his normally bronzed skin a - to your eyes - sickly look. Luckily, the chalk rubs off easily enough. Next, you find that his hands - and feet, you learn soon enough - are quite soft, babylike even. Quite different from the lean and calloused physiques that typify Shadeholme's folk. Even Hamfatten, for all his bulk, is still almost comically strong - or it would be funny, if you didn't suspect that strength could someday be directed at you.

Bally, though active, is neither lean nor comically strong, and though he's nice enough to you, he's also a bit careless, as if he's not known many women, or bothered to get to know what they like and don't.

Still, you seem to have enraptured him. He draws a finger down your spine and leans in close, nipping the back of your neck, before rolling onto his back and sighing. "Haaahhhhhhhh. Think I'll skip the dance tonight and just hang out with you. Unless you want to go, of course? I had a date, but... she's no Mayor's daughter!"

His features shift a little, doubt showing on his face. "Why'd you act that on the road, anyways? You're clearly very bright, and very pretty..."

---------
Istiel
---------

Suuha sighs and literally rolls his sleeves up before grabbing a scroll, as if he's about to undertake particularly dirty work. Indeed, even though you've never enjoyed libraries and lessons, you're pretty sure Suuha dreads them. Though he never speaks of his life before the Journey, its obvious he was no engineer's child.

The hours stretch on, Suuha becoming more and more agitated as he sifts through scroll after scroll, huffing and sighing with annoying regularity.

Then you lose control of the shelf you're working at and its contents tumble to the floor. Suuha watches you, dead silent, until you place your hands at your side, and then he bursts into a long, heartfelt guffaw, holding his sides, buckled over in mirth. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

His laughter trails off into a chuckle and then just stops. "Hey. What's this?" Reaching into the pile of scrolls at your feet, he pulls one, partially unfurled, finger going over a line, stuttering a bit as he reads. "An-An-Anthius Claviger, of the Claviger House of Cornucopia's Crocodile-ile Mound." Drawing his finger across the scroll, in tightly bound script, Fox Priest, 1733.

Counting on his fingers, Suuha finishes his thought. "That was 92 years ago, Ist. F*$# me, I think I found something."

--------

Backtracking and retracking, then looking through the larger library, you find more references to Anthius. He was by all accounts a bright and ambitious boy, third son of Altheus and Donica Claviger, twice removed at that time from the King, Grandson of Damballah. With little prospects of inheriting the family fortune, he did as many scions of nobility did, and entered the priesthood. Just two months into his time there, he abruptly quit and entered the monastery instead.

As you go, you amass books and scrolls upon a table, every little bit of information that you can find. Additionally, you find that many pages where you'd suspect there may be information - a Claviger history, works on royal lineages, and the like - there are pages missing.

Struggling through a particularly dry chapter in a work about priestly rites, you don't hear Blythe until she's directly behind you, speaking over your shoulder, her voice weary.

"Ah, so the library does hold some information after all. I hoped it had all been stolen. A shameful history, that Fox Priest."

---------
Imix
---------

As you speak, you find the soldiers reacting in different ways. Some gasp, some stand silently, some curse. The true audience of your oratory though, Tazzuk, frowns ever deeper as you go on, and his arm moves under his cloak, likely to a weapon stored there. Nonplussed, you continue on.

"Hear now, loyal Citizens of Empire. Hear the words a Suriname was prepared to risk execution to bring you."

"The Mountain Men have fallen to this Dark Force. No longer are they--"

The words die in your throat as a sharp pain hits your abdomen. Cut off, you look with wonder to the pain in your stomach, noting with amazement that an arrow protrudes from it. Tazzuk pushes the table on its side, scattering the food platter and chicha and dragging you down, giving you both cover, as four more arrows sink into the makeshift barricade. You feel a sickness spread into your blood, but thankfully your Suriname constitution fights it off, a little foam frothing from the corners of your mouth.

"It were Parnell!" You hear a stonecloak yell. "He just disappeared!"

"Nozzle too! And Chelmkuk!" yells another guardsman, to your right.

Later, ensconsced in a royal guest chamber, your wound bandaged and healed, Tazzuk visits you again. "Let's have a conversation free from prying ears." As you finish the oratory you had started in the woods, the Castellen's face grows ever more grave. A long pause separates your speech from his next words. "I was ready to kill you in that forest - for sedition, for lies, for trespassing. And then, low and behold, others got to you first. That arrow saved your life, Suriname. And has convinced me of the truth of your words. There are troubles afoot, here in Coruncopia, and close by, but I'd thought them to just be coincidence. The miracle birth at Three Corners has much of the city in a religious fervor, but none of our Shadows have yet gotten a view of this 'Ayida Wedu.' Banditry has gripped our roads and rivers of late. Tooyah press into our lands, as you say, so do they - their lands are fouled, Fire Peaks threatens. Dark times lie ahead, I fear."

"Thank you for your visit, Suriname. Your trespass is pardoned. Emil, the stonecloak Garrison-Captain outside your door, will show out when you're rested."

Rising, Tazzuk absently brushes at some dirt on his pants, blushing a bit when he realizes it's not dirt - but rather your blood.

"Was there anything else?"

Still, you seem to have enraptured him. He draws a finger down your spine and leans in close, nipping the back of your neck, before rolling onto his back and sighing. "Haaahhhhhhhh. Think I'll skip the dance tonight and just hang out with you. Unless you want to go, of course? I had a date, but... she's no Mayor's daughter!"

His features shift a little, doubt showing on his face. "Why'd you act that on the road, anyways? You're clearly very bright, and very pretty..."

Rigel grins and stretches, like a cat: "Honestly? I was just having a bit of fun - your friends were talking to us like we were hayseed hicks, so I played up to it."

She smiles down at him, leaning close, brushing her hair back with one hand as she kisses him, lingeringly. "But I haven't finished with you just yet..."

Later: "A dance? I love dancing. C'mon, you were going to show me off at some point, right?" Suddenly abuzz with energy, Rigel dashes around: a bathe, a vigorous towelling and careful hairbrushing follow in (comparatively) swift order, before she ensures that Bally is ready and presentable. "You will make sure to tell me who's who, won't you? And not abandon me to drift without knowing anyone?" She gives him her most appealing look.

Rigel does like to dance, it's true; but she also figures this is a great way to meet important people.

Istiel ignores Suuha's mirthful laughter, mumbling mantras of peace and tranquility under her breath. When his boisterous cacophony suddenly stops and he exclaims, however, Istiel pauses and looks behind her. Carefully putting down the scrolls, the monk walks over and crouches next to Suuha, hanging on his every word. When he finds the record of Fox Priest's former name, and slaps her fist into her other open palm., and has a rare moment of excitement outside of sparring or fighting."YES! Finally, something! Good eye." The monk claps Suuha on the back and snatches the scroll, reading the lines herself. "Anthius Clavigar..... 92 years ago Fox Priest was born after his vessel survived The Journey. How is that possible?"

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The books and scrolls piled on the table, Istiel reads with weary eyes... information going in her brain, and then.. into nothingness. She just wants mention of the monk Fox Priest, what he has done, and if he is rogue. His vessel's former life meant little to her.

When Blythe sneaks up on her, Istiel nearly jumps out of her skin and slaps her palms down on the table in a motion to quickly get up. It is stifled in an instannt, however, when she recognizes Blythe's sweet voice. Relaxing with a sigh and a few heavy, adrenaline-filled breaths, the monk takes a moment to composure herself and sit back down before turning to face the old woman. Respectfully, Istiel performs a small seated bow. "Master Blythe. Fox Priest's vessel took the Journey over 92 years ago... did I truly meet the same man? I see no mention he was beast-touched either. Yet I saw it with my own eyes. He was like a fox on two legs. I find no record of shame. Yet your eyes tell of a great tragedy."

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Oios
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Jeramesh regards you for a long while, his posture relaxed, fingers steepled and resting under his chin. "How much of what? You know as well as I do that to divulge state secrets to a commoner - distinguished and principled as that commoner may be - is a death sentence."

Leaning forward, his gaze keen, the interim Head Inquisitive is now all tension, building within his body like a taut rope. "Help or don't, we'll find out what you know regardless."

Still holding your gaze, Jeramesh, sighs - a calculated sigh, you're pretty sure. "Tell anyone, and I'll deny it. And as you know, no truth magic may be used on the Head Inquisitive, so my word will be believed. I'll have you committed to the sanitorium, an old feeble man with delusions."

Leaning back, the Shadow is all air of nonchalance again, this time twisting his ring absently. "We know that there have been incursions on our borders to the west and the north, Mountain man and Tooyah. We know that the Tooyah are pressed into our lands by blight and Fire Peaks, though our ears hear that the blight is not so bad, and that there are still many tribes of the Reeders trying to eek out their little lives up there. Those people are prone to myopism, seeing all reality as though it is their own patch of swamp. Don't take what they say as Damballah's word."

"We know that raiders come from the mountains, many at a time, but not three hundred."

Leaning forward again, Jeramesh finishes with a flat declaration. "I know nothing of this priest from Fire Peaks. Have you met him? Her?"

Oios settles back. The little tussle had established clearly that this meeting would not be friendly, but would at least be professional. Lux held all the power and would not be offering any new information the way Kastic would have. It was a pity but Oios still had the responsibility to inform the Inquistives of what he knew. Whether they would do anything with the information was out of his control.

The way this year's Excise has gone has given rise to many delusions and rumors. The people are unsettled High Inquisitive. Firstly of course Shadeholme is effectively defenseless, if the mountain men I saw decide to they could tear through the town like ripping silk and Shadeholme knows it. I did not see this Fire Peaks priest but I believe what the captured Mountain Men said about him. These people do not lie for they have no reason to and the captured one named himself one of the Rippers of Flesh tribe following the priest's commands. The Mountain Men are now organized in a way that I have never seen, they are no longer warring among themselves, and are carrying out magic more foul than I knew even existed.

I will tell you what I saw when I traveled with the Shadeholme excise. First we ran across a campfire with armed bodies being eaten by wolves and surrounded by crows. A dire sign in and of itself but the tale gets far darker still. The Wolf spoke with me High Inquisitive, in our tongue, said the crows caw of the times of men ending, she seemed amused enough by my attempt to parlay with her to allow me to examine the bodies. They were killed in their sleep. I have no hard evidence of this but I believe that these were mercenaries of the Order of the Stag and were murdered in their sleep by one of their own.

Then at the first Waypoint the Shadeholme excise discovered that Piney Bluff had been raided, worse, the Piney Bluff Excise Head, traveling ahead, has been claiming that it was Shadeholme that raided them. I will tell you straight High Inquisitive that Shadeholme has no men to defend itself let alone go a-raiding in a way that they never have before.

A member of the excise disappeared and came back with a blade of metal that he did not have before. He claimed he was led to a burial barrow by a bird and a dead man wielding the blade came to life and attacked him. I believe him, especially after having talked to a speaking wolf myself.

Finally just before the Excise finally came to the safety of Cornucopia. It was attacked by villagers from Wayrun a flyspeck village. I find it still hard to believe what could have compelled such a terrible attack. There was a monk with them, seemed more like a best touched fox than a man but seemed to be responsible for the assault.

Holding Lux's gaze Oios finishes As you say High Inquisitive, I am just a feeble old man, a former inquisitive, that no one will believe. Whatever I say in public will be seen as nothing more than just another crazed rumour in a crazed time. I have no interest in being such a crazy street ranter and I have fulfilled my duty by making you aware of what I have found. I hope you will give it enough importance to at least verify through other sources. The only request I have is to be allowed access to the Inquisitive library if I may. Shadow beasts summoned by human sacrifice, the dead coming to life, beasts talking in the tongues of men, Fox priests driving villagers to attack an Excise, these are things that my mind is unsettled about and I feel only knowledge can assuage my worries.

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Drazan
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Using the light of the dagger to guide you, it becomes apparent that the shelf is part of a larger structure - a door, that looks like it wasn't closed properly, or at least carefully. Tugging a little, the entire unit of the shelving - really a cleverly built door - swings wide open, easily and silently, the various supplies on the shelves barely even making a sound.

On the other side of the hidden door lies a room, about 10 x 15 feet, carved out of the bare earth and buttressed with wooden beams. Holding the dagger in front of you, you can make out a few very disturbing details. There's a tanner's rack to your left, on which is stretched skin, bronzed in hue. To the back lies a stone vat, about three feet in diameter, in which a liquid rests. And to the right are two shelves, one stacked with tools, and one with folded leather.

The singing upstairs stops and something hits the floor above your heads with a loud thump. Then, the singing picks up again, "It puts its skin on the rack and then can come back and back" while the sound of feet clomp across the floor, and the sound of something being drug behind it, moving towards the stairwell.

Fulton runs into the room and then runs back out, looking at you panicked. "F$$! me!"

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Oios
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Jeramesh stares at you as you talk, you can tell making mental notes and calculations, but he doesn't ask questions - being a skilled inquisitive, you know he'll follow up as needed. Instead, when you are finished, he simply reaches into his desk and grabs a piece of scrap parchment, and using an ink pen, writes a few notations on. Folding the parchment and holding it between is thumb and index finger, he stretches it out to you. "A pass. Present this to Halpert in the Library. I expect to be filled in on everything you find."

Oios stands up to bow formally towards the High Inquisitive and takes the paper. On the way he looks around to see if he can spot any of his old friends. He doesn't have very many but those he does have are loyal. If he can convince one of them to come along and help him with his research he will do so.

At the Library Oios tries to clear his mind. He will be here for a while. First he will tackle the topic that he has some familiary with, the faith of the Mountain Men to see what he can learn about the Fire Priests. Then he will move on the topic of compulsion. It stinks of magic, something he has had no need to know anything of... until now.