"And who is to say the book didn't get destroyed in the conflagration..." Arimar suggests, "After all, powerful magics were employed, and rats do love to nibble on things. We could even send you with a few choice scraps of paper and probably even the book cover to help you back up your claim. You can tell them that we fled or fell unconscious under your initial assault... and I don't mind admitting that it chafes me that some of this is quite close to the truth.
"Please believe us when we tell you that after this is over, you will never see the book-keeper again," Arimar takes one look at the cowering man, and sniffs the air for the expected fear-induced urination, "His days in Magnimar are over after this. Lanvi will retire him somewhere nice and distant. Does that help?
"As for future arrangements, we'll have something over you... but I'd rather think of it more as a favor owed for sparing your reputations than any actual kind of blackmail. You are quite talented and we both know this fight could easily have gone the other way. I'm sure that, some time in the future, we will find a way to benefit from our association... rather than risk one or the other of us dying in an upcoming conflict."
Malgrim decides that he would probably do more harm than help in the delicate negotiations with the knife wielder, so he moves to the druid, taking an analytical tone similar to a teacher as he addresses her. "That was impressive, as ambushes go. Blending in with the swarm is an innovative tactic; had you lead with the blinding ash immediately after entry, we would have few options to resolve that threat. Overall, your teamwork with your sibling make you a force to be reckoned with."
He pauses for a moment, impassively regarding the woman. "Your largest failing was in attacking a force that with superior numbers and organization to your own. A force that actively sought to avoid undue bloodshed." From his pack he draws his wand of Cure Light Wounds, which he hands to her handle first. "I find it unlikely that I might persuade you to leave your line of work, yet I hope if you take nothing else from this experience, it is that your match will always exist out there, and that no mere job is worth the loss of your family."
Luma listens in silence as the Companions state their case.
Her face softens when Malrgim heals her. "I have seen you all comport yourselves with honor and kindness. We of the Derexhi line are a proud house, and it is not often that we fail a mission.
"It saddens me that we have failed, and that my only options are to face the shame of my house and father, or continue with the lie that we succeeded. It is my experience that a small lie often grows unchecked into an even bigger lie, and things would be worse off than if I had owned my failings.
"You have given me much to think about and I confess that I am undecided. But I only respect you the more for your treatment of me." the half-elf ends.
Ontor listens to the Companions with a smirk on his face. "You have me beaten, but you parley. You have taken your position of strength and turned it into weakness with your compassion.
"How about this, you take the books and the bookkeeper, shove it up your ass and light it on fire. Sound good?
"As for me, my house knows where I am, and if I do not return within the half-hour, this place will be swarming with Derexhi forces. You have only met my half-breed sister, the weakest of the litter. Once the full might of House Derexhi descends upon you, you will wish we killed you outright." he ends with a snort and tries to lean back casually in his chair.
"You know something, I'm beginning to agree with this guy," Arimar frowns at the man in the hood, "It seems it really would be better if we killed you. Thanks for pointing that out." Ontor gets the distinct sense that the paladin is not lying.
Arimar draws his falchion, and looks to Gwen and the idiot's sister.
Ontor's cool facade cracks as the paladin draws his massive blade. His sarcastic grin wavers and the Companions can see real fear in his eyes.
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"C'mon now Arimar, Why cut him, when I can rip his throat out like I promised earlier?" Benaiah shrugs with an unnerving smile on his face.
The demonic looking, red-skinned, mutated man rolls forward onto his knees, supporting his upper body on his knuckles. He tilts his head back, his face arching towards the ceiling and exaggerates a stretch with his distended, protruding maw. Large, sharp teeth reflect the light around them, and bits of the man's flesh from a previous bite remains stuck between some forward fangs and side canines.
Benaiah moves forward on all fours, looking so much the part of a wicked beast while a low growl rumbles forward from his throat.
"Yes. Why risk the whole house coming after us when we can just kill him and get out of here. The fool thinks we have given up our advantage, definitely not the brains of his family."
While Benaiah has the man distracted, Arimar goes over to check on the book keeper. He kneels down and whispers into the message they always have active. "Gwen, I think the key to this guy is through his sister," Arimar says softly so that none but those hooked in to the message could hear, "I'd try angling at him by talking to her. He'll probably see sense if you call his bluff, too. I really don't think they'll be too happy if he comes back failed and it would be good to have him as a friend rather than an enemy. Maybe ask him what he wants..."
Arimar finishes his 'ministrations' and stands back up, making sure to pick up his blade once more.
The halfling nods along to the sage words from Arimar whispering in her ear. As his words roll into her mind, Gwendolyn eyes the two captives and contemplates her companions position of power.
First the hafling steps to the prone and restrained body of Ontor, raising one hand and dragging a finger lovingly down the side of his face as she begins speaking. "Oh, my dear, Ontor," she begins, her words are oddly warm. "We have no intention of ransoming you back to the Derexhi family."
"I think you've gravely misunderstood your peril at this moment," she continues. "You've mistaken my companions proposals as coming from a position of weakness, when in fact, they are simply trying to find a reason not to kill you."
"However, you seem insistent that you have no intention of working with us. You have no interest in saving yourself."
After a further moment spent staring at Ontor, Gwendolyn moves to Luma.
"My dear," she begins, resting a hand gently on the half-elf's arm. "Ontor seems insistent not to work with us and seems to be under the presumption that he is in no peril, and that we will simply ransom him back to your family."
"You seem to be the more level headed of the two, so I will speak honestly with you of your, and your brother's position."
"We are not interested in working diligently to convince your brother his life is worth saving. If he does not value his life, and vows to not work with us, then how could we ever hope to trust his judgment after his release? If he will simply become our enemy after his release, then as I'm sure you can understand, then we are better off to simply end his life now and save ourselves the trouble."
"Why should we scheme and plan, in some effort to convince your brother to save himself. It is he who should be looking to convince us. Because, I assure you, if he is not utterly beyond convincing that he will work with us, and that our cause will have less trouble with him left alive, then he will disappear this day and will never be seen again."
"The same goes for yourself," she continues, her voice still loving but coldly at odds with her stern, calculating words. "If your brother cannot be saved, then that puts further question on how much you could be trusted should we let you go. I would fear you would hold a grudge should your brother disappear, and again, I would be hesitant to release you if there is any possibility you could become our enemy again in the future."
"We need you to convince us we are better off keeping you both alive, because I assure you the alternate option is very much still on the table."
Luma looks at the halfling and nods as she makes her points.
"Yes. You are right. I grieves me to have the dishonor of failing a mission, but you all have the right of it. I shall acquiesce to your demands. As for Ontor, he is his own man. I love my half-brothers and sisters; yet I fear they have little love for me." Luma ends with a saddened expression on her face.
"Alright! Alright! Alright already!" Ontor screams as he flounces in his chair causing it to skip on the floor. "Enough! If it wasn't for Mouse's incompetence I wouldn't be in this damnable position. Put the poker away and you, calm yourself beast man." Ontor addresses Arimar and Benaiah.
"Here is my proposal. Information. You are sorely lacking information. You don't even know how many enemies you have right now. You let me know what the bookkeeper finds out that is so important, and I mean really important, and I shall share with you who hired us, and what perils you face. I can even tell you how we found you.
"Secondly, a bargain. My life is precious to me and House Derexhi. If you spare my life, which you seem inclined to do, then House Derexhi shall not accept any contracts on you in the future.
"That is my best offer. You would be fools not to take it. So are you, in fact, a group of fools?"
Arimar sheaths his blade immediately. He does it so quickly that Ontor may even have to double check to see that he has in fact put it away.
"Well, that's much more reasonable," he smiles, sitting down and untying the nobleman, "You are still very much wounded and I would suggest you take advantage of that potion you brought with you. We won't stop you."
The paladin smiles broadly, "So, information sounds like a more than worthy exchange here. I would rather a more amicable alliance, as I'm sure we can benefit from continued mutual association, but I will take information. Our book keeper will continue to work on acquiring our own, and then we will happily share for mutual benefit. It sounds positively reasonable. I'm glad you came around."
Arimar then moves over to where the four daggers that were thrown at him lie and picks each of them up very deliberately. Then, equally deliberately, he places them down one at a time on the hooded man's lap. "Throw anything at me again and I will return them to you... much... more... swiftly." He grins and stands, waiting to see if his companions agree with his acceptance of the deal.
Malgrim considers the offer made and quickly reconsiders pointing out how much more effective a combatant the assassin's half-sister is becoming compared to the knife-thrower. That's a lesson he'll likely learn on his own, sooner or later.
Not wanting to interrupt the flow of the negotiations, the hobgoblin does interject a brief addition. "We will share the information, provided it does not compromise or threaten our current employer."
Employers, who hired the assassins? Someone close to Lavni. Her daughter? He decides he must bring that up to his companions when they are alone.
One more brief thought occurs to him. "Your contract, do you know if your House would be the only operatives after us currently, or should we expect more guests soon?"
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Benaiah sniffs the air around the man a few times, as if his aroma and aura would give away his level of sincerity. Satisfied for the time being, he sits back on his haunches and crosses his arms, content to let Arimar and Malgrim take over from here.
After a few moments of staring the beaten man down he stands back up to his intimidating height and walks back over to the other side of the room.
"You, danger is over for now. Go take a shower. Candy in the next room if you need to clear your head... Come to think of it there might even be those little sugary bite sized treats too. The sooner you are done, the sooner you are out of here and can start your new life in whatever backwater town you end up in. I hear there is a little town called Kassen somewhere far away from here that never has anything exciting happen. Sounds like the perfect place for you and your family to disappear to."
While Oscar begins to clean himself up and calm down, Benaiah begins pulling a number of strange items from a case and setting them up on a nearby bench. He leans over, seemingly lost in his work, and whispers to the young, druidic woman. "You know, I'm not sure why, but I think I like you, even after the fact that you just tried to kill us. I want you to make sure you let me know if you are ever in trouble. Just between us. I know what it's like when your family seems to... never mind. You just let me know if you need anything."
Never lifting his head from his work setting up the portable alchemy lab, nor waiting for a response or acknowledgement from the young half-breed, Benaiah returns his focus silently to his work, eventually pulling out a leatherbound journal full of notes and formulas.
One more brief thought occurs to him. "Your contract, do you know if your House would be the only operatives after us currently, or should we expect more guests soon?"
"The amount of money that was paid to us, expect no one else. Houses just don't have that kind of money." comes Ontor's unexpect straight answer.
"Candy? ... At a time like this? Kassen?" completely bewildered, the number cruncher once again searches for a clean pair of breeches before setting up my workstation again. Taking time to reorganize the paperwork, and checking to make sure his counting device is free from harm, the man quickly resumes his work.
Watching the quill scratch, the beads flutter, is truly a sight to behold.
feel free to add in anything if you want.
A day and a half pass with the same monotony of scratch and clack of quill and bead. The room, even though the companions are a clean lot, begins to take on a lived in smell that irritates rather than repulses. Tempers are short as Ontor has taken every opportunity to hurl annoying comments with the deadly precision he wielded his knives.
Luma begins to look forward to Benaiah's guard duty, often conversing in hushed tones about their perilous families. She also seems to light up when Malgrim appears, bonding over never really fitting in.
At last the bookkeeper moves into the room. Sunken and shallow, the man has a crumpled appearance to him.
"Done. But I am not sure you are going to like it."
Oscar places three neat, clean piles of books in stacks, and hands a ledge over to Arimar.
"That ledger is the code. One of the best I have ever seen. Each stack contains the original documents and a translation if you will. Each pile represents a shipping company.
This pile." he places his hand upon the first stack, "[/b]Is the Maersk Company. This stack is the Carmoza Consortium. And lastly Hanjin Shipping Company. Being in the trade, these are three of the biggest trade organizations in the Inner Sea Region. You will find a list of ship manifestos, with addendums in code.
"It is fairly obvious that these addendums are coded for illegal trade goods. In addition to the regular shipments, these companies are smuggling in drugs, pesh most likely as all these ship originated in Katapesh.
"Now you will need the official manifestos that have been turned into the harbor master to compare, but that is relatively easy with a well placed bribe, or a small group of talented individuals that can pull a quick smash and grab.[/b]
"But I have yet to inform you of the last, and most important detail. All of these manifestos are from the Vanderale Family. Do you realize that the oldest, richest, most powerful family in Magniar is involved in drugs. If this knowledge was brought to their attention, the blackmail money alone would make you a powerful minor house. If you used it against them, it would turn the great houses upside down.
"You're right Benaiah, I am going to leave. And as quickly as I can, and never, ever come back. When great powers collide, it is the little man that gets squished."
"Excellent work, Oscar," Arimar happily commends the man, though much of his joy is actually derived from the fact that they can finally leave their quarters, "I must admit that I was beginning to think that Lanvi's faith in you was misplaced, but such doubts have most certainly been allayed."
Arimar smiles at his guests after the information has been explained to them, "Well, I think in this case the knowledge has been most beneficial to you. We are open to suggestions on how to use the evidence, but for now I feel it would be best to keep it safe. I don't mean to cause offense, but I would rather talk about storage plans for the book and ledgers with my companions. No doubt, however, you can make excellent use of the information alone. Just don't start a war of houses before you check in with your friends for help." Arimar taps his chest to assure them that he considers himself to be one of the aforementioned friends.
Malgrim listens intently to the Bookkeeper as the man recounts the information that was so valuable that it was worth killing over, thinking over how chance and intuition had led him to stumble into such a trove. "Such information is far more valuable than its weight in Scrolls... although sadly it does little to further our current cause. I have little interest in managing a House or destroying a city beyond the damage we have caused so far."
Malgrim remains stoic as ever, seeming to think over the present situation. "While valuable, I had hoped that the information would be more directly relevant, such as exposing information about the Handmaiden. Instead we have uncovered more black depths of deception. This city is a cesspool." He cracks his knuckles. "But, we are no closer with this at present. I wonder who has hired the two. The Vanderales? Or Lavni's daughter."
In keeping with the others, the halfling listens intently as the bookkeeper explains the relevance and grand implications gleaned from the stolen documents. "Aye," she begins, smiling warmly to Oscar. "You have done very well, Oscar. There were many dangers set upon you but you have survived and completed your task. We thank you for your service."
"You've earned your leave of this place and its dangers. I wish you the best of luck. And please let us know if there is anything further we can do to aid you..."
Gwendolyn ponders the details revealed by the bookkeeper and all the while keeps her eyes locked on Ontor, watching his face for any signs of reaction to the reveals. "Well, as we are all friends now, and you have heard what the details contained within the books..." the halfling says, continuing to watch Ontor and address him directly. "Would you please be so kind and enlighten us as to who hired your services, and what perils we may face in the future?"
"I agree, Malgrim," she beings, turning to the hobgoblin first. "I had hoped to learn more of the handmaiden's role in all this. Luma's hint that they were given details to our whereabouts by someone close to Lanvi is very concerning... I'm sure we all suspect the one responsible to be Lanvi's own daughter. But we'll need evidence of such betrayal before we condemn the handmaiden."
"What we have learned has far reaching implications, probably beyond what any of us can fully grasp at this time. I only hope when we discuss these details with Lanvi, she will have some valuable insight on how best to proceed from here..."
Ontor, for the first time since his capture, is speechless. He just shakes his head in disbelief from time to time.
Luma's sharp intake of break is audible over Oscar dissertation, and her perplexed look mirrors her half-brothers.
"I assume that you have not grown up here, or fully come to appreciate the noble houses of Magnimar, like we have, but this news is incredible. This information is worth all our weight in gold and then some. As you have kept your part of the bargain, so shall we." she turns and looks at Ontor. "Unfortunately, I spoke the truth when I mentioned that I did not know who hired us. Information is not always freely shared. But I can tell you that I have heard talk of you, as Lanvi's entourage and have been told to styme you any chance we can get. These directives, I have heard them given to others like ourselves." she indicates her and Ontor. "So they must be coming from higher up in Houses, possible the leader of our Houses. You can use this information of the ledgers to open doors that have been closed to you, or turn enemies into allies." Luma adds in.
Ontor looks deeply troubled. "What an awful bargain I have struck with you. I wish you had killed me outright. Nothing good will ever come of this. At least one of the great houses will be erased from Magnimar. I can guarantee you it will not be House Derexhi." The companions can see that Ontor's cool, calm demeanor has faded only to be replaced with a noble arrogance that they have seen too often from those born into nobility.
"Yet I shall uphold my end of the bargain. House Versaede, and none other than Savasha Versaede herself has hired us." "You clearly acquired these ledgers from House Versaede. How were they using them? If they are currently paupering themselves to retrieve it, you know it was their most important asset. They should have given us The Osprey in exchange for those ledgers. I fear when all is said and done, either Lanvi's organization or House Versaede will be no more.
"And what of House Vanderale? Will you use them as a pawn, or will you attempt to take them down? You can topple two of the great Houses with this information.
"But a deal is a deal, House Derexhi will no longer entertain contracts on you. And I see the advantage of us becoming allies. If you need a skilled band, call on us."
Ontor raises his hands hoping to be cut loose.
The Companions, leaving The Frumpy Duchess, once more make the familiar trek back to the temple of Sarenrae. As they approach the sunburst doors they notice something new. Heavily armed guards stand side by side with the Sarenrites. These heavily armed guards sport heavy crossbows and etched on their breastplates is the turned key of Abadar showing the cityscape of Magnimar on the head.
The guards nod to the Companions and one rushes over. In a hurried tone, the guard quickly explains that Khania called upon the impartiality of the Master of the First Vault to help defend the temple. The guard will answer no more questions as she ushers the companions into the temple and down to Khania's personal chambers.
As they descend the well lit staircase, the Companions are reminded of their first trip here and the apprehension they felt when Keoki was injured unto death.
Pulling the door to Khania's chamber, they find the priestess looking worse for wear. her hair disheveled, her robes slept in, she seems to have lost some weight rather recently.
"Ah, what a welcome sight. I trust you are all well?" she asks the group before embracing each in turn.
"I am afraid I have some troubling news. Mistress Lanvi is here. Alive, but very weak. There is a story to tell but let us see if she has the strength to tell you herself. Come."
Khania ushers you all into a side chamber where there is a cleric sitting next to a comfortable bed. Resting is Mistress Lanvi, covered and bandaged, her vibrant complexion replaced with a waxy, sickly appearance. All can smell that tell-tale stench of sickness, mixed with the cloying scent of herbal poultices. This odd combination of good and bad smells evokes the strongest of memories. The Companions notice a full bowl of broth along a full vessel of mashed fruits next to her. Resting with her eyes closed, she doesn't stir as Khania whispers to the tending cleric.
Turning back to you, Khania explains, "She is still recovering, and very weak. We have a limited amount of time before she slips back into unconsciousness. After her tale, make your questions pointed and purposeful if you can." She walks over to the bed and places a light hand upon Mistress Lanvi's shoulder. Gently rousing the woman, Khania merely whispers, "They have arrived."
Mistress Lanvi groans as she barely turns her head and opens an eye. In a weak voice, she begins as only she can. "B*%@* of a daughter. Handmaiden. Tried to fool her. She knew. Raided estate. Tortured me." she ends with one of her all too familiar violent coughs. The attending cleric rolls her onto her side as she spasms, and gently wipes the blood trickling from the corner of Lanvi's mouth. Tipping Mistress Lanvi back, the cleric raises a clay cup to her lips, and drips some water into her mouth. "Make it wine next ... time.". Mistress Lanvi tries to smile, but her body is wracked with pain.
Moments pass and she opens both eyes before continuing her tale. "Couldn't keep it in. Had to give you up. No choice. Knew you are the best. Knew you'd make it. Tell me he cracked .... the ... code ... worth it ...." she ends with her eyes closed and slumping back into her bed. Khania and the cleric exchange a worried look before the cleric pulls the bedcovers back over Lanvi.
Khania turns to you, "I can try to rouse her once more. If you want me to."
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Benaiah chuckles over his beakers and hot plates as he continues his work, leaning back to reference his formula once again. He rips open a new packet of crystalized troll saliva and adds it to a roiling glob of caramelizing sugars on his hot plate.
Vanderale as a pawn? Everyone is a pawn... Even us. Tools to an end.
"All this talk about houses rising and falling, the only real truth here is Oscar's observation that it's the little people that get squished when the powers shift. That and the simple fact that powers shift. Know this, if knowledge of drug trafficking brings down the Versaede household and their allies, it will be because of what they have gotten themselves into, not because someone squealed. Their exposure may come from us and this book, or from some other means, but rest assured, their operation cannot continue unchecked forever."
"So fret and worry all you want about whether or not we should have just killed you. It's clear these forces have long been in play, and the dance of the rise and fall of those in power will continue long after our bones have rotted to dust." Benaiah looks up from his work, staring calmly at Ontor. "The only deed this motley crew," Benaiah gestures to the assembled group, "Has to claim so far is besting you and your half-sister. No small feat by your own measure to be sure. But there will be more. The list of our accomplishments will grow. Some will come to enjoy being our friends, and others will rue the day they decided to be our enemies. Rest assured, we are not going away anytime soon, and I know I will be glad to call you and your family an ally."
Benaiah looks at the powerful woman, impotent in the bed, at the mercy of those she scorns and hanging on the edge of death. She should know the peril her house faces, and the power we have to save it and destroy her enemies... But the task will fall on us to do something about it whether she knows or not. It is clearly no longer her's to fight. "Please do not wake her on my account, unless one of the others here needs an answer before we go. If she does wake, simply let her know that reward has been worth the risk, and we will put it to good use."
Turning to the others, "Our work to restore the fountain seems to have a shorter timeline now, and it's clear we will run into resistance at every step, thanks to Versaede and Mistress Lanvi's daughter. This news opens up many, many possibilities, the most obvious to me now that Mistress Lanvi's daughter has had a hand in whatever malady is affecting her mother. The question becomes, how do we use our new-found information to clear the path for us?"
Malgrim regards their fallen employer in silence, knowing there is little that can be done for in this room that the Sarenites could not accomplish. Lacking any questions that would likely turn up actionable answers, he turns to his companions. "There is a heavy burden of power we wield with this information, a power that could cause great suffering and destruction should we misstep. Yet our enemies have shown the lengths they will go to protect their own power and interests. The treatment Lavni received at the actions of her own daughter is horrifying, though we cannot allow it to cloud our judgement."
He thinks a moment more, then continues. "It seems likely that the Versaede family held this information as leverage against the Vandervales, whether the Vandervales were aware of it or not. While using it as blackmail seems the least disruptive, at what point does it end? How could we secure the information; how many more assassins will be sent against us to retrieve it? It is a horde of wealth, complete with a dragon sitting atop, ready to devour us should we let our guard down."
"Realistically, the only path I can see is to bring the information to light, but in such a way that benefits our endeavor. How that might be accomplished is far from my depths, however."
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"Not a bad thought there Malgrim," Benaiah puts his hand to his chin, Malgrim's words suddenly sparking a thought.
"Someone will profit from the void in power created by the downfall of a house. Lanvi, certainly, but others could as well. Blackmail has it's downsides, but once the information is released to the public and the authorities, the dragon has no teeth. Making alliances with other houses who are positioned to benefit would allow us all to rise together. I think I am with you though Malgrim, I don't know that I see exactly how to accomplish that just yet."
Arimar smiles, "The answer to all your questions lies before you on this very bed. We put the information to use saving Lanvi, of course. That involves restoring the fountain, and the information is perfectly poised to do just that.
"We send a letter to the Versades and demand that the doors that have been closed to us open once more," Arimar explains, "We tell them that the Order of the Nail bothers us no more. We tell them that unless we make permanent and personal assurances on a regular basis to those who hold the ledgers, the evidence we have and the appropriate translation will be sent to the Lord Justice Bayl Argentine at the Justice Court.
"That just leaves appropriate storage, and I think that a vault at the Cathedral of Abadar would work well... even better if it is further secured inside a Pathfinder Pouch that has valuable gems as its ostensible contents. I'm sure Lanvi could arrange it, but it may be better if it was kept under another account, perhaps the Church of Sarenrae if Khania is willing." The paladin takes the time to pause and let it sink in.
"The Versades and Vanderales wouldn't dare to cross us with such an arrangement in place, the guilds will honor our requests for aid... and we can get down to the important business of restoring the fountain, no mean feat even without interference." Arimar moves over to the unconscious body of their employer, removes his gauntlet and strokes her sweat-soaked cheek.
"I'm afraid it would be best if you woke her, Khania," he adds solemnly, "We really should run our plans by her to see if she has any objections or doubts about their effectiveness."
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Benaiah stands, motionless, and thankfully well beyond the timeframe of his frightful, beastly appearance. He raises a single eyebrow at Arimar, not for the last time wondering what in the world happened to the emaciated version of his friend.
"Well when you put it like that..."
It seems his mind hasn't changed, except for the missing snark perhaps. Heh... If he had been this nice before, I wonder just how much Valsin would have despised us, or if we would have even gotten along in the beginning... Funny how fate works I guess...
"One more thing. We should have at least one copy made of the ledger and the translated version. That way, if anyone were to penetrate the vaults of Abadar, however unlikely that would be, then they would know that there is still evidence in existence that could undo them. Perhaps unnecessary, but with how deep it seem's this family's tentacles go, it couldn't hurt to add some extra insurance."
Rolling over painfully, Mistress Lanvi utters moans and groans. The cleric tending her gives the Companions and Khania a look at is as sharp as Ontor's knives.
"So ... much ... pain. Need to secure the manor ... paperwork with Abadarians. Yours now. Need to get that .... damn fountain working. Plan good Arim ..." and with that she passes out.
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Did she just say what I think she said?
Bewildered look plastered on his face, Benaiah manages to choke out a few words just as Mistress Lanvi passes out again. "Did she just say what I think she said?"
He turns on his heel slowly, bringing his chapped and weathered fingers up to rub his scalp, his elbows sticking out wide. He scratches his head and begins to slowly pace around the room.
"Her manor is now legally ours? She did mention paperwork and Abadarians..." His heart rate begins to pick up a bit, and so the large man begins to breath big, slow breaths to calm himself down.
"So we go put the ledger and translations in the Vault as you mentioned Arimar, then we collect the papers for the manor..." Benaiah's pacing begins to pick up a little speed as a sense of urgency seems to come over him. "Then we go take the Manor back, by force if necessary." He finishes, turning to the others and crossing his arms at his chest.
"There won't be any need for disguises anymore."
"Well, looks like there's quite a mission to undertake at the Cathedral of Abadar," the paladin grins broadly, [b]"And then a chance to have revenge upon those who have wronged us and Lanvi, with quite the reward at the end. This sounds like it will be fun!!!" Arimar knows his enthusiasm matches Benaiah's own. He is uncertain about the feelings of the typically dour Malgrim or their new comrade, Gwen.
"Let us hope that the handmaiden is there to receive her just rewards for betraying her mother," he adds, "But first, Benaiah, do you think you could arrange the Pathfinder Pouch? We can then secure it in the vault under our name, with Khania's name also on it so she can release it to the Lord Justice in the event we don't report back every week. As a further guarantee, I would like to arrange a living will placing the Lord Justice as my sole beneficiary (after you three) so that the contents of the vault go to him in the event of our death. That should ensure our revenge... and that any looking into it from the Vanderale (and likely Versade) families think twice about crossing us.
"We can sum that up in a letter, but who to deliver it to? The Vanderales, I think. Let them worry about convincing the Versade's to call of their dogs.
"Then, with all that in pace, we retake the manor. Sound solid?"
The halfling stands and watches the events unfold before her eyes, but cannot seem to rouse her ability to speak. For most of her life she had counted on her words, and the innate ability they seemed to possess, to command and manipulate those around her. All of her training at the Conservatory had taught her to use others, to get what she needed from them and to serve only her own purposes. But here and now, looking at the pain-wracked and nearly lifeless form of Lanvi, their benefactor and partner, Gwendolyn could not form even one word as the others discussed their plans.
"So ... much ... pain. Need to secure the manor ... paperwork with Abadarians. Yours now. Need to get that .... damn fountain working. Plan good Arim ..." and with that she passes out.
Ahead Lanvi stirred, muttered a few words, and then just before the woman slipped back into merciful unconsciousness her eyes met Gwendolyn's. The halfling wanted to speak a vow of revenge and give some semblance of hope to the mistress, but still could not find her own voice. Her eyes glistened with welling tears and she knew this was why the Conservatory had striven to keep their pupils cold and emotionless. Gripped by fear and doubt and guilt over all that had happened, her words, seemingly her one and only gift, had all but failed her.
Turning now to Arimar, Gwendolyn tried to muster a smile and even parted her lips in preparation to speak but then paused. After a moment, she simply nods in agreement to the wise paladin's words.
Though no words were spoken, her glance clearly spoke for itself, "Of course, Arimar."
These were true friends, and she could not believe how deeply she and how quickly she had learned to care for each of them. With danger surrounding them at all times and the fear of failure gnawing at her soul, Gwendolyn could only hope she would not fail them when they needed her most. But she knew she trusted them more than any others in her life and she would follow them anywhere.
Perhaps this was a lesson the Conservatory should have learned for itself, that pure love and true fellowship would always prove a superior to force of self interest.
The companions, seeing that Mistress Lanvi has provided all the information that she can at this time, allow themselves to be shooed out of the chamber along with Khania. Still shaking her head, Khania let out an exasperated sigh. "You know, she will recover. Her cough, well, I know how hard you all have been working on restoring the fountain, and how little progress you have been able to make. One wonders if the assistance that we are receiving from Mistress Lanvi is worth all the roadblocks that association with her brings." Realizing that her internal musing were vocalized to Mistress Lanvi's close friends, protectors, and business partners, she blushes a shade of deep crimson.
"A thousand apologies, I know how you feel about her. Know the temple of Sarenare will do everything in its power to restore her to full health as quickly as possible.
"In the meantime, well the temple of Sarenrae is not very powerful here in Magnimar, as you well know. I had no choice but to elicit the aid of the church of Abadar. I knew not who else to turn to. You must understand the pressure I was under, how difficult it is to navigate the political landscape for people like me.
"The Gold-Fisted one was the only I could think of that could possible help us. They sent over an adjudicator. He is ... well there is really no use in being coy. He's blind. How he is reading these documents is well beyond me. As of yet he only knows that you and Mistress Lanvi are business partners, and that we are associatives. He knows nothing of the fountain, though I would trust that one with any legal secret I had. His mother if she was found cheating a scale in the Bazaar of Sails, well I am sure he would hang her by the toes personally.
"And of course Hepec, Mistress Lanvi's majordomo, is here."
Khania opens the door to a large, circular table. Seated around it is Hepec looking perturbed, and the monk of Abadar, Julthor. Julthor is a bald man in his late forties, or early fifties,but it was difficult to tell with him seated. Dusky of skin, his eyes glowed golden rather than the pale, milky-white of blindness. His lean frame of sinewy muscle bespoke of his incredible athletic prowess. Scattered around him in organized piles are small stacks of papers, and scrolls. He nods absently as he stares at the wall while Hepec drolls on about the injustices of House Versade. Hepec, hair unruly, nodded in recognition to the companions; yet did not cease his assault on the Abadarian.
Turning to face the companions, Julthor greets them in an unemotional voice. "Priestess, I assume these are Mistress Lanvi associates. Have a seat gentlemen, and lady." he nods towards Gwen and ever so slightly rises from his chair as Gwen and Khania seat themselves. "Time is of the utmost importance, and the good priestess has filled me in on the more salient points of your complaint.
"After a cursory review I find enough evidence to support the validity of your claim to Mistress Lanvi's estates, and a stake in her business. I have also been told, at great lengths mind you, of the manner in which said property was seized by a woman, who goes by the name of 'Handmiden', who apparently has some blood relation to Mistress Lanvi. And furthermore, it appears that she has the backing of a great house, House Versade specifically. Major insinuations, some that could cost your life with sufficient proof.
"I also concur that this matter can successfully be arbitrated by the Church of Abadar. Given the current political climate, I would agree that should the Council of Ushers appoint special counsel, or even bringing this before the Justice Court would be a bad idea. The Church of Abadar will, and always, will be a place where all are judged equally, no matter their birth or occupation in this case.
"I will send delegates to both the Handmaiden and House Versade. They will have a week to abdicate the manor and remove their house guards from Mistress Lanvi's establishments. Do you gentlemen and ladies have any questions for me at this time?'
has grown, so too has this legislature, and what began as a group of the city's 15 most active and outspoken family leaders has bloated into a delegation of 117 members, rife
with bored aristocrats, scheming power-seekers, and greedy merchants. For all the assembly's corruption, though, many honest business leaders and political activists passionately (and often with mounting frustration) seek to serve the will of Magnimar's citizenry.
Here judges interpret Magnimar's few laws. In many cases, the justices must be quite creative in how they interpret and rule, often consulting each other for advice. Strangely, the system seems to work unusually well, although as Magnimar has grown, the system has started to strain under its own lack of official structure. Thirteen justices-led by Lord Justice Bayl Argentine-form this court.
"A week?" Arimar balks, "Who knows what damage they could do in a week, what private possessions they could appropriate over that time. A week is far too long. They should have hours, preferably just one of them. They are trespassing on what has just been given to us as our legal property. They are trespassers who, if they do not leave, will be forcibly ejected or killed should they resist by force of arms."
Arimar looks over at Khania and calms down at the sight of her face. "I do not mean to seem ungrateful. Your help in this matter is much appreciated, but the timeframe simply will not suit. I hope you can understand."
Malgrim looks at Arimar sideways, a single brow raised. "While I would appreciate to liberate the estates as quickly as possible, the grounds and house are just 'things', whereas the collateral damage for forcibly ejecting them could be immense. We have not had excessive luck with buildings of late."
To the representative of Abadar: "That does not mean we should allow these intruders to have free departure with the estate assets. Can we set to detain them from leaving with goods belonging to the estate? I would also suggest setting a date for initial response by earlier than a week. Given the lengths they have gone to so far, it seems unlikely that they will back down."
Hepec clams his fist on the table. "Master Arimar is RIGHT!" with a fierce look in his eyes, he reaches across the table and grips Arimar's forearm, "I can rally fifteen, maybe twenty retainers loyal to Mistress Lanvi. Say the word and we will mobilize."
In a calm voice, Juthor pats his hands in front of his face, pleading for calm. "Come, come. I know these are stressful times, and property disputes can always make people impatient, and for good reason. Try using the Justice Court and it could take over a year, the Council of Ushers, longer.
"I shall dispatch a team to catalogue certain items of particular value. The Church of Abadar shall make sure they are returned to you or you are justly compensated.
"Yet these things take time. Papers need to verified, you understand of course."
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"Count me with Arimar. An hour is even too long, but there is only so much we can do about that. We should move on the house immediately and re-take it. This isn't a mere property dispute, this was a forceful and violent raid. Would you spend a week or month or year in the courts if someone invaded one of your churches and unlawfully claimed it as their own?"
Benaiah folds his arms across his massive chest, resolute in his stance. "Even now they could already be accessing sensitive documents, and valuable items that do not belong to them. I do not doubt the efficacy of your clergy and their cataloging, but it is not necessary if we just go take what is rightfully ours."
While Julthor processes his words, Benaiah leans over to whisper to Arimar. "If this is how long they take to react anyways, then there isn't anything to stop us from taking it ourselves, whether he likes it or not. Then our claim can be validated in a week, instead of enforced in a week."
The halfling looks to her companions and listens to their words, urging action to retake the estate. Even Gwendolyn is surprised that brimming up within her is the undeniable sensation of haste, and a driving urge that they must act immediately and with whatever force they can muster. Her early life had been filled with training to approach such situations calmly, with great care and planning, but to most importantly proceed methodically so as to not put one's self in harms way unduly. Here, in this moment, her training had been almost been washed away in her mind, scrubbed from her soul, she knew she needed to act now or she would always regret the inaction. She found with a surprising, twisting satisfaction that she welcomed the fight.
"As my friends have already stated," Gwendolyn begins, her voice calm and collected, hiding her rising urge to act. "We appreciate all your help in this matter, Julthor. However, we cannot wait that long before we act."
"I am with you, my friends. We should act quickly to retake the estate and deny those who hold it any further chance to glean any secrets that may reside there. A week is too long to wait without assuming such a course will create unforeseen consequences."
"My only concern is rushing too quickly," she adds, seeming almost embarrassed at even suggesting this. "I may need a bit of time to recuperate from our last struggle... to gather my wits and collect my innate resources."
Looking across the table at the Companions, Juthor sighs, "Young men usually let the blood run hot, I pray that it does not result in your blood spilled all over the manor.
"The Church will not interfere, to aid or detract you in this endeavor, and am not sure if this course of action will help or hinder the progress we made.
"I pray the First all works well for you gentlemen, and lady." he once again nods at Gwen.
"Yes Master Benaiah. Strike now, before they have more time to fill our hallways with more of their Versade filth! Say the word master and I will rally our troops." Hepec eyes bug out as the man passionately pleads to retake his Mistress's manor.
"Well, I'm glad that you all agree with me," Arimar starts, and then looks apologetically at Malgrim, "Well, almost all of you. Good idea on the night raid, Gwen. I'm able to see perfectly in the darkness, as is Malgrim. We can use that to our advantage for sure. Benaiah, if you can find a darkvision extract for yourself, with Gwen's good night eyes, we can make the advantage even bigger. Think we could we find some shadowcloy and a darklight lantern at last minute notice?"
The big paladin looks down at his armor, "On the other hand, though, I'm not as quiet as I used to be." He waves an arm, causing his gauntlet and shoulder plates to rattle noisily in demonstration. "Surprise will be hard to get. Invisibility potions should still see that we get at least an initial advantage. Spiderclimb and knock while invisible and under silence and we could get the jump on that handmaiden through Lanvi's window!"
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"We are a little short on resources, and Lanvi's monetary support is likely locked up in the mansion we are trying to get into. I can handle my own invisibility and darkvision, but those potions you are talking about aren't necessarily cheap." Benaiah raises an eyebrow to Arimar.
"In fact, I have some concerns about sneaking in through the back. I don't like the idea that as soon as something goes wrong, they run out the front door like cowards...." Benaiah's face lights up for a moment as a devious idea hatches in his mind.
"Hepec, how quickly could you rally the men and women? What if we could force them out the front door. If the contingent of retainers feigned an assault on the windows and rear entrance, it might spook the Versades into trying to escape out the front door, where the four of us will be waiting. For once, we could be the ones to lay the trap. Once that has happened, we can move into the mansion to retake it from whoever is still inside, while Hepec's men make sure no one escapes."
"Hepec, how quickly could you rally the men and women?
"Master Benaiah, I would need only a handful of hours. Where shall we meet you?!" the excited man pushes from back from the table and stands up offering a comical salute.
Juthor merely rolls his unseeing eyes.
"I pray the First that your endeavor is successful. I have your documents, I will see them safely stored, and I will dispatch these letters to the houses for you.
"The Brotherhood of Abadar wishes you good fortune. May you uphold all the laws." He begins to organize and file all the documents in his satchel.