Tholan, already grumpy from having been woken early, is growing increasingly unhappy with the man who interrupted his lovely dreams of battle and spoils. He sizes the man up, then decides to follow his brother's lead. "My brother is right. Poison is the weapon of women. We of Thelkon would have drawn steel if we wanted to slay a man. I should think you know me well enough not to doubt my words. Had we wanted a war, we would have made one. However I have always worked to strengthen House Rudianos, as I hope you well know as the new Lord."
"Guards!"
Eight finely trained, slave soldiers rush into the room. Their gleaming spears and polished helms stand in sharp contract to the weaponless four before the new lord.
"More talk of war!? Perhaps we will have one after all."
Drostan fully draws his sword now. He stands fuming, waiting for the next words.
The slaves meanwhile, stoic though they are, seem ill-at-ease in the face of fighting the group.
The Thelkonlanders will be a tough fight, but it is Thaegrin they wish not to fight. He is held as a symbol of potential freedom. They would sooner follow him than fight him.
Tholan glances across the slaves with their weapons, then glowers at the new lord with furrowed brow. "This is madness. We should come together at this time, not tear ourselves apart. I know my brother, and I know myself. We did not poison our Lord, and this battle would solve nothing. You are supposed to be a commander and lord to these men, think as a commander and a lord, not as a grieving son."
After finishing his words, Tholan intentionally assumes a pose which is less threatening toward Ser Drostan, though he does poise himself for battle if it is to be joined. Despite his effort, his size, platemail, and general countenance still renders him an intimidating figure in the room.
Thaegrin sighs wearily at the hot tempers and brash words thrown about the room. He begins with a serene tone tinged with sadness, meeting the new lord’s angry eyes. “I did not poison your father. I would never harm any of the house. In fact, the series of Rudianos deaths weigh heavily on my mind.”
“I cannot deny my dabbling in herbs, but take into consideration all the other facets of knowledge I pursue. While scholarship may not interest a man of the sword such as yourself, and a mind requires sharpening as well as the blade. My mental efforts have always been in service to the Lord of Rudianos, from educating the youth to giving apt counsel to the court.”
He looks about at the tense posturing of slave and freeman. “And if I may offer a word, my Lord, war with Thelkon would be unwise in the face of the unrest within Erenon,” he adds most humbly. The former slave glances at the eyes of the pikemen before returning to Lord Drostan.
"You all would say anything to save your necks! No. We will string you up like that old Alchemist and have the truth."
Ser Drostan raises his sword to point at the group.
"Or do you wish combat to decide your fate?"
"I see grief has caused you to go mad, considering you're declaring war again with Thelkon. Cut down the heir and you've signed a warrant for a long and costly war, one you can not afford as a third party is picking apart your family. But if words won't change your mind about our innocence, what sort of combat did you have in mind?" Ezkal said as he flexed out the sleep from his muscles and crossed his arms.
"The short bloody kind."
Anga holds his hands up non-threateningly. "I, for one, have no interest in fighting the son of my Lord, particularly today of all days." He looks at the knight with with sadness etched in the lines around his eyes.
"Hold. Do we not get a moment to question the suspect as well? Alchemist, WHO POISONED OUR LORD?!" Ezkal voice thunders as he proves to those in the room why he is an inquisitor.
Casting Time 1 standard action
Components V, S, DF
Range close (25 ft. + 5 ft./2 levels)
Target one creature
Duration 1 round
Saving Throw Will partial; see text; Spell Resistance yes
You ask the target creature a single question. On the subject's next action, it must answer truthfully in the same language as the question or take 1d6 points of damage per two caster levels (maximum 5d6) and be sickened for 2d4 rounds. A successful Will save negates the sickening effect and halves the damage. A creature that is unable to answer still takes damage.
Drostan leers, a disturbing smile crawling on his lips. "Oh, he won't answer you. He is quite spent."
Another dazzling display of piety...
The court adviser tries to reason with the enraged Rudianos once more. He begins with a calm, patient voice. “It stands to reason, that whomever poisoned Lord Rodrik did not wish to be identified or caught. With all respect, my lord, what half-wit assassin would linger after the poisoning, when an investigation was sure to follow?”
He says nothing else, hopeful that the question sinks in.
"Ha-HA I see I couldn't fool you Ser Drostan! It seems you have found your Fathers killer! It is I! Anga Facion! Or perhaps better known as BLACK MOON!" At this the teller of lies twirls dramatically revealing the pale green Noqual chain shirt he wears underneath his cloak. Taking a quick step he grabs Thaegrin and locks his arms around the old wizards neck.
"Nah ah ah! Not a step closer from any of you, or I break the old mans neck like the twig it is!" His eyes move menacingly from the knight to the slaves and back again. "Now you old coot! Use your wizardry! Magic them all away! Or magic me away! I don't care!" Facion makes a show of rolling his eyes manically, while foaming spittle forms around his mouth.
"I killed your brother, I killed your Father, and I'll kill your families closest friend and adviser if any of you so much as look at me funny!" Again the spy rolls his eyes wildly and begins gibbering. "Bbbblgggghtthttttf fa fa fa fa glom FAL CREANTH Få mig ud herfra tryllekunstner! Glob blarg off na!" The meaningless words bubble forth in a shower of spit, though the discerning ear easily picks out bits of ancient Feraweni sprinkled throughout.
Would the fool truly snap my neck?! I’m not taking that risk.
Thaegrin’s typical impassive expression flickers with nervousness. He looks to Lord Drostan. “My lord, if this is the last time I can speak to you, I learned last night that the Abellio house hold your eldest brother, and he is alive.”
The he bitterly answers the babbling halfblood, “You wish to flee? Very well. I shall conduct you straightaway…” he rubs the ring on his finger as he mutters and gestures, meeting the eyes of the Thelkonlanders before directing a pointed look to Lord Drostan. “...to the dungeon!”
In a cough of blue smoke, Thaegrin and Anga wink out of the room.
An instant later, the old arcanist stands on the cold dank floor of the dungeon corridor, with massive doors on either end.
He still feels arms around his neck. “Release me, Halfblood. Unless I vastly overestimate you, your escape should be apparent.”
He slips into Heart of Stone, knowing the pain he must experience is necessary as part of the ruse.
Tholan stand still, looking around the room at the guards and the young Lord. "Seems like we should head to the dungeons to kill the traitor. I know Thaegrin well, and he is dangerous, but the assassin certainly had the advantage." Tholan smacks his fist into his palm. "Might I have the honor of accompanying you to hold the fool down so you can cut him traitrous head off?" He pulled himself up to his full height, and began to run the lines of his favorite battle hymn through his mind.
"Go! You and Ezkal bring them back!"
"A traitor! We go, my Lord. How dare that swine attempt to blame Thelkon for womanly actions" Ezkal nodded toward his brother and turned to the door. "My Lord, is there a weapon around here I can use?"
Tholan nods and bows, albeit quite briefly, not wanting to waste time. "If you would return us our weapons, and lend us a pair of guards... I'm not used to sparing a foe, having the guardsmen there to restrain him and ensure he's not... too subdued... We shall bring the wretch to you so you can mete justice to him."
Two of the guard toss their spears to the Thelkonese brothers at a gesture from Lord Drostan.
"Just go. And do not kill him!"
Ezkal rushes out of the throne room and runs down the hallway. "Come brother! It's like the hunting we did as children!" Ezkal leads the way to their room.
The spell takes effect and Anga finds himself in the darkened tunnels of the palace dungeon. Quickly straightening the man of shadows steps back and wipes the drool from his mouth. His voice again a careful neutral he addresses Thaegrin. "My thanks Wizard." He cracks his knuckles and examines the old man. "I trust you understand it must appear convincing. Don't look for me, I'll find you." Without waiting for a reply he cold cocks Master Variel thrice in the face.
Catching the frail adviser before he collapses the keeper of secrets lowers the scholar to the floor before searching out the hidden door he knows to be nearby. With nary a whisper he lets himself in and proceeds as softly as possible to where the passage leads outside the palace, his gaze ever alert for the prying eyes of others.
A very dark smile covers Tholan's face, as he follows his brother. "The prey is more exciting today though." He moves quickly, grabbing his falchion and stowing his spear. It takes him only a few moments to gather his remaining things, and pack them away. "Our prey will be elusive, we'll need to move quickly. Should he escape the castle grounds, we'll need to work to track him."
Tholan pauses briefly, waiting for his brother, then moves quickly toward the dungeons.
"There! The wizard." Ezkal ran over and knelt next to the wizard checking his pulse.
Too close. Facion thinks to himself as he makes his way around the outside of the estate. That fool of a knight, just like his brother. So easily goaded into false accusation. He moves from early morning shadow to cover and back again. He has no desire to be seen, and indeed, not being seen is what he is good at. This will hamper my investigation considerably. The keeper of shadows pauses listening before continuing on his way. I can only hope the Wizard keeps the two brothers in line, they are still in considerable danger with such a hot head ruling House Rudianos. Reaching one of the many servants entrances again Anga pauses, waiting for the way to be clear. Too much has happened, we cannot afford to keep reacting, I must find the true killer quickly.
Looking around himself, Anga finds odds and ends to put together in a quick disguise, the familiar process of changing his appearance passes quickly. With as much confidence as long practice grants, Facion steps into the light and proceeds through the servants entrance quickly apace. Walking with the step of a busy and purposeful worker, he makes his way through the palace halls directly to the room he last slept in.
Feeling a really weak pulse, Ezkal heals the wizard. Seeing the wizard stir, Ezkal asks him, "Where is Anga? What's the plan here?"
Retrieving his belongings he leaves his room behind. Finding a quiet corner of the palace he secures all his weapons and gear before taking a moment to think.
Thaegrin’s eye blinks open, for one of them is swollen closed and purpling, and his thin fingers go to his to feel the swelling in his jaw diminish. “Stop. I do not require any further healing.” His working eye studies the brothers, and the lack of guards behind them. He answers the inquisitor’s question slowly, his mind whirling. “The plan, so far, is to tell Lord Drostan the happenings down here. I had hoped the great dungeon doors would contain the spymaster and protect our lord from the lunatic. But he bested me and somehow escaped. Come,” he stands, annoyed, “let us inform the Lord of Rudianos of the betrayer’s escape, and pledge our aid in his capture.”
The old arcanist shows a surprising amount of vitality as he quickly paces through the dungeon doors and up the stairs. Ignoring any of guards that might be in the guardhouse at the top step, he strides to the door and proceeds into the stone walled corridors. He waits for the Thelkonlanders to catch up before rounding the corner. “Be sure to not look threatening to Lord Drostan.”
As he presses on the doors to reenter the throne room, he makes sure the remaining injuries from the halflbood are clearly visible, and wears the face of urgency.
He voice calls over the flagstone. “My lord! Seal all exits! The dungeon doors could not hold the spymaster. He struck me and escaped! Let me search with magical eyes, and find our betrayer!”
The young lord's eyes darken. "He escaped?" he growls in a tone so low it is difficult for the old wizard to hear. "How is that possible? Bearach, Ionan, Jathus, and I could get away with nothing under your tutelage. Lost your touch eh? Wizard..."
He pauses for a long moment and it is clear that he is deciding Thaegrin's fate.
"You may search, but you will do so here."
To his guards, he bellows, "Seal every exit! Get Thaegrin anything he requires from his study and do not break anything! Once done, you are to seal us in this room. If any come out before me, kill them."
Lord Drostan Rudianos shifts his gaze over the Thelkonlanders and back to Thaegrin. He raises a questioning eyebrow.
Swiftly and silently Facion makes his way through the halls, sticking to shadow where he can. Stalking along the stone floors up to the Lords Chambers. Stopping a good ways from the doors he looks to see if there's anyone around.
Tholan looks around the room, then back to the young lord. "Ezkal and my own skills are wasted standing in this room. If you wish me to remain here, I shall. But it will not aid in finding the traitor."
“You know your gifts better than I, but I may need your help with a particular spell, since your magic functions differently from mine.” Thaegrin murmurs to Tholan.
“As you wish, Lord Drostan. So long as my efforts are uninterrupted.” Straightening, the old arcanist uses a commanding voice. “I require several things,” he points to one guard, “From my study, you will find a worn leather backpack beside the desk. Bring that, and the belt beside it holding many cylindrical containers. A large, leather-bound tome rests separately from the rest of my books on my desk. Actually, bring all the books on my desk. And bring me several wells of ink, with enough quill and parchment."
He points to another guard, “And you, cut a piece cloth from the bed the betrayer last slept in, and find me some diviner’s runes. I will also need a wood cup for the runes. Make sure the cup is not oak or cedar. One of my searching spells will only function in a silver looking glass, lacking any impurity, so obtain as many of those as you can find.”
The court adviser says to another, “Bring in a large table and chairs. There is much work to do.”
“And a poached egg and a glass of tart red wine will fully waken my mind, since I was dragged from my bed like a whore’s maiden daughter,” he adds, hoping the self-deprecation will catch Drostan’s harsh humor unawares.
He clasps his hands behind his back, and waits eagerly for the slaves' return.
Approaching the door cautiously, Anga keeps his ears peeled trying to ascertain who is inside the room.