Photinè smiles at Greenly, giving a gracious nod. "I, for one, would be glad to have you along, and I know Martella would not disregard a woman of your strength and your... inquisitive nature."
She turns to Malphene and reaches out to clasp the younger woman's shoulder, giving her a gentle squeeze. "So much has changed in a very short time. Please don't hesitate to call on me if you have need of anything in the coming days. My home is open to you, Mademoiselle Malphene."
She glances furtively around the deadened streets before addressing the rest of the group in a hushed voice. "The same invitation is, of course, extended to every one of you. Perhaps we should retire there now to discuss our situation; it's close by, and I don't suppose we can be certain of our privacy, here in the open."
Apart from an exclamation of dismay when she sees the carnage in the Senate building, Amandine is shocked into silence by what she sees.
Outside though, the appearance of quiet in the city is enough to encourage her. With her apprehensions about Calix's safety somewhat assuaged, she becomes determined to follow through on rescuing Lady Martella before anything else.
"If we plan on questioning the halflings, perhaps it would be best to do do at your home Lady Photine. They will not recognize the place, and so may be further discouraged about their chances for escape or friendly assistance."
"I think it would be worth the extra time. Of course it is possible Stavian enlisted them, but I'm not convinced of it. The violence of his ambush on the Senators has the feel of blunt force to me. He seems to have wanted fear to carry the day, nothing precise about it. These halflings seem to be working for someone who thinks differently, more surgical in their approach. There could very well be a third, or even more parties working at cross purposes to Lady Martella. The religious tokens they carry suggest a particular ideology uniting them. Questioning those two may make things clearer."
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Since the Senate gala and the escape room, the weird half-elf 'noble' has grown on Chana quite a bit. If for no other reason than she's as straightforward as can be. That and her streak of kleptomania, which felt like a touch of her old home right here in the flesh. Greenly would have fit right in in the Narrows, she seemed hardly noble at all.
Chana slaps her fist against her palm and adds "Greens, yer welcome ta come wif us- ya might be nuts, but I figga you're the good kinda nuts. And we're gon' need some muscle if Martella's got 'erself in trubble. Ay, and dere might be some stuff for you ta pinch on the way." The piled on stress of the day and night with no rest has finally broken Chana's half-hearted facade of nobility, and her speech is obscured by a heavy Narrow's accent. She looks down at her tattered attire and picks at it with a hand.
"I'm gon' get myself changed and meet ya at Photine's. Where's that as Photine?" Before splitting of briefly, she adds "Roughin' up these lit'le thugs might give us more ta go on, but I reckon Martella and the Princess are in a tight spot right now- we prolly can't spare too much waitin'."
Angling away to keep out of earshot of the halflings, Photinè gives Chiara directions to the Aurelius family estate in Aroden's View. After confirming that everyone else is ready to depart, she guides them on the short walk to the manor and quickly ushers them inside.
She takes a moment to lock the door and draw the curtains, before leading everyone to the kitchen and down a set of wooden stairs that end in a small wine cellar.
"I presume this is the best place for this," she says, gesturing at the bound halflings. "Make yourselves at home chéris. I'll put on a pot of café while we wait for Mademoiselle Durante."
She returns to the kitchen to set the kettle boiling, and makes a brief foray into the dining room to fetch enough chairs for her guests. Always eager to be an exceptional host, she makes another trip to collect pillows and blankets from around the house, passing them off to anyone who will accept them, and spends several minutes arranging cream, sugar, and coffee among china cups on a tray before serving.
Chana splits off from the rest of the group only briefly. Long enough to find one of her old friends and get a brief message sent to the Durante household to let Sophia and Chammy know that she's safe. And also long enough to shed her damaged dress, hat and veil. Thankfully, her paranoia about the nobles left her wearing her normal trousers and vest underneath her clothes. Far from comfortable during the event, but comfort was not something Chana was used to anyway.
She regroups with the rest of the team at the Aurelius family estate only fifteen minutes or so after they arrive.
---
The person that Photine meets at the door isn't wearing a hat, veil, or dress, and her malformed appearance is clearly apparent. Chana's face is lop-sided and a little too broad - a necessity to house the sharp teeth that fill her mouth. Her eyes are iridescent yellow and a bright red scarf covers everything in the lower half of her face, obscuring the third eye that sits uncomfortably between her nose and left cheek. She wears a thick leather vest, plain linen shirt, and workman's trousers. Her feet are bare - and dirty.
"Oi Photine, you go' any good boots? I ditched the ones for the par'y and didn' fink ta bring propa' ones." This strange woman's voice is unmistakably Chiara's.
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Greenly and Photinè's words soothe the anguished Dame Trant. She manages to give shape to, perhaps, the hardest words she's ever spoken:
"Thank you."
...
The streets of Oppara are surprisingly safe in this uneasy time. The usual dangers of the city have withdrawn into hiding, afraid of the imagined killers that have seemingly fallen upon the capital. The path between the senate and Aurelius estate is a quick and safe one.
During the walk to Aroden's View or as you settle into the home, you are only accosted by messengers sent by the grateful nobles who owe you their lives. They each bring a delivery addressed to one of you.
"My mistress wanted you to have this," she says, offering up a small jewelry box.
Inside, you find an unquestionably gaudy silver necklace in the design of entwined leaves and vines, studded with many small pearls and tourmalines. Thankfully, the necklace's value far outstrips its taste and would be worth at least a couple hundred gold.
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Olivia rests at the Photine's house. The dead bodies lying around the senate was not new to her, but it did bring up old... memories. Her dress is covered with rips, dirt, and blood.
"If at some point we could detour to the inn I was staying at, I'd like to pick up some of the things I left behind. My arming doublet and crossbow, for example. Not terribly important, but this dress and shoes are not meant for fighting."
Greenly accepts a pillow and blanket and carries them around while she treats herself to a tour of Photine's manor. It's not quite as expansive as the Basri estate, but then again, she's not expected to clean this one.
She drops the blanket at seeing Chiara's actual face, and bursts into giggles. "I don't think we've, like, been introduced," she says, offering a hand and a warm smile. "How do you know Teeny, er, Miss Mitchell?"
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Photinè gives a little start when she opens the door, but quickly composes herself when it becomes apparent that the strange woman is, in fact, Chiara. She fixes her with an inviting smile and waves her inside, and is careful to lock the door behind her.
"Bien sûr, I'm sure I can find you something suitable." The arcanist disappears into a side room for a moment and returns with a pair of riding boots, which she hands to Chiara. "They're my son's, but I suspect they'll fit you just fine! He's in the North right now — thank the gods — so he has no need of them. Come, come, everyone is in the other room."
In the kitchen, she presses a hot cup of coffee into Chiara's hands, and looks around eagerly to make sure her guests are sufficiently taken care of.
Amandine is almost ridiculously grateful for the coffee. Two jobs and a brother to care for has made her dependent on it for a long time now.
She also plies Photine about clothing.
"I don't suppose you would have a pair of trousers to fit me around that I could use? Or even a looser skirt for that matter. I wasn't expecting anything like this to happen of course, and I didn't bother to plan for a change of clothing before getting home."
"Oh, certainly!" Photinè says enthusiastically, and leads Amandine to an unlived in but impeccably kept bedroom on the second floor. A quick search in the closet reveals a few items that appear to be the seldom-worn hunting and pleasure clothing of a young nobleman. "Any of these should suit your needs, chérie. My son's, but that hardly matters. He hasn't been to Oppara in ages," she laughs, looking a little wistful.
She leaves the younger woman to change, and stops in her own room to shed the heavy green silk and intricate undertrappings she'd worn all evening. She replaces it with a looser, slightly more practical peacock-blue dress before heading back downstairs.
"Does anyone else need anything? Lady Olivia, we can find you some trousers as well — or if it pleases you, I can fix your dress up with a bit of magic," she offers.
Chana shakes Greenly's hand with an audible snerk. Her eyes crinkle - she's grinning under her scarf. "Oi noice to meetcha Greens. I reckon me an' Miss Mitchell go way back. Back ta last night when we all got trapped underneath the Senate." She slaps Greenly on the back. "Wot, you forget me already?"
She takes the coffee in both hands and looks down at it suspiciously. It's nice to hold something warm, but she'd never really gotten a taste for coffee. "Ay, thanks Photine, an for the boots too. Don't want no 'alflin's stabbin my toes now, do I?"
Having mentioned them, she turns her attention to the halflings that they'd captured, checking to see if any woke up and are only pretending to be still KO'd.
Photinè finds some clothes and boots for Olivia as well, and then, finally satisfied that everyone is cared for, turns her attention to the halflings. "I suppose it's time to awaken our guests."
Gulbend is the first of the two halflings to awaken. His lolling head bolts upright and his eyes dart across the room like panicked weasel. He strains against the rope binding him until he nearly topples over. Although he does not recognize his surroundings, he recognizes his captors - and this paints a tight-lipped grimace upon his face.
Even though he is now awake, Gulbend will not willingly give up information.
Despite seeing people getting roughed up on the regular back in the Narrows when she was little, Chana has absolutely no experience doing the same to others. What she'd learned in her early years was how to be cunning, how to read a space, read a person, and keep safety in numbers. Never how to oppress others. As a result, she's at a bit of a loss as Gulbend wakes up.
Considering the way some of her allies have with words, she focuses entirely on watching Gulbend and reading his every reaction.
"Wot you wanna do wid 'im first?" She asks the rest of the party, but mostly for Gulbend's benefit.
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"We could make them breakfast?" Greenly lamely suggests, thinking with her stomach. Far too late, however, she remembers that Mr. Gulbend, the helpful halfling, is her, like, enemy now, and so she over compensates.
"A really terrible breakfast," she threatens, punching her fist, a haunted look in her eye.
She shrugs apologetically at the rest of the party, particularly Photiné. "I've never been good at this part of the job."
Amandine changes her clothes, grateful to be out of the (probably)ruined evening gown.
She looks at the halflings feeling disappointed and flustered. While she does have experience extracting information from people, she's never done so in these circumstances, adversarial and when the person in question is aware they're being worked.
Amandine takes one of the holy symbols all the halflings were carrying and looks it over, turning it about in her hands.
"It seems to me you believe you're willing to die before saying anything. Maybe this faith of yours is what makes you think it's best to meet your end that way. Are you hoping you'll receive a greater reward in Hell if you say nothing? I doubt it will count for much compared to failing your simple task so completely. On the other hand, living to make up for tonight's failures in the future might gain you something. But you will only get that chance if you tell us what we want to know."
Amandine's attempt to scare the halflings into talking is wordy and meandering, unlikely to have much impact even if they manage to pay attention through to the end.
|
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Olivia thanks lady Photine for all her help. She tries to have a quick chat with her in private, asking about her family in greater detail in a sort of heart-to-heart, but before the conversation can get anywhere the Halflings wake up. Olivia goes back on duty and tries to help Amandine.
"Should you repent and renounce your God, there is still hope for you. You don't have to be destined for an eternity of slavery and torture."
Photinè pulls up a chair across from the halflings and reclines on it.
"Now, now, no need to look so grim. We have no interest in torturing or killing you, or anything so dreadful. There's just no need, when I can use a simple enchantment to make you tell us not only what we care to know, but all your other secrets as well." She waves a hand in the air lazily. "Or, I can easily divine them, or read your thoughts, or hypnotize you."
She laughs, shaking her head. "But any of those would be such an invasion of privacy, and quite enough information to bring a swift end to the Brotherhood of Silence. Your confrères would be very disappointed in you, and I sincerely doubt any of them have such a moral opposition to murder as we do." She taps her manicured fingers on the arm of her chair. "Whenever you're ready, s'il vous plaît."
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"I really do think we should kill them if they don't talk" Amandine protests, trying to make up for her weak attempt before. Actually the idea makes her a little nauseous, and she's no help at all.
Gulbend's grimace transforms into a smile, growing broader upon his ruddy face as though carved by a knife.
"My failure has sealed my fate. My brothers will slay me, and my death will be their own glorious offering to the Silent Blade," he declares with macabre pride. "I have no fear. I have no want, other than perhaps the wish that I might be ended by the Child Blade herself."
In addition to the silver unholy symbols, the epithet "The Silent Blade" makes it clear that these halflings revere Thamir Gixx, a lesser known halfling deity of greed and thievery. Thamir Gixx is often associated with Norgorber, the Taldan deity of murder and secrets, although their relationship is something of a mystery.
Though a cult to Thamir Gixx would not necessarily be outlawed by virtue of merely existing, its adherents' actions and forms of worship would most certainly be an affront to Taldan law.
However, you notice that his fellow halfling is also conscious but feigning that he is still out cold. You observe minute movements - a twitch at the lips and eyelids - which suggest that the threats and sweet talk are having a greater effect on him than on Gulbend.
"Oi, I reckon Gulbend go' a fanatic streak. We're goin ta 'ave a rough time wid 'im. 'ow about we start wid 'is lit'le buddies? Maybe they go' a bit more sense in 'em?" She steps over and picks up the halfling that she noticed was pretending to be asleep. "Aw, 'e looks fresh, don 'e?"
She sets him into a chair and ties him to it. "Alright Amandine, Photine, 'ave at 'im."
The second halfling squeaks in fright as the veil-less Chana hoists him up and reveals his feigned sleeping. He cannot disguise the shivers running down his shoulders as he is set down for his turn at questioning.
Gulbend's eyes cast daggers at his fellow, clearly frustrated by his lack of resolve.
Rather than saying anything more, Amandine begins to concentrate on slipping into the halfling's thoughts. She shifts the tone of this thinking, magnifying his suspicions about Photine. He becomes more certain the evil step-mother figure sitting in the chair in front of him can cause him unimaginable anguish if he doesn't please her.
Amandine frowns at the halfling with impatience. "Ask him one more time. If he doesn't answer your questions let's just kill him so we can go back to having coffee."
"Indeed," Photinè agrees with Amandine, and looks back at the halfling, cold indifference apparent on her face. "Understand, mon cher, that I give you this chance out of politeness, but have no patience for tedious games. Tell us what you know, or refuse so we can simply take what we want."
Chana watches the surprisingly menacing Photine with admiration, even if she's not quite sure what the noblewoman was implying. Could she really just *extract* the information they have with magic?
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Bolstered by her allies looming around her, Photinè's words drive a sharp wedge into the other halfling's resolve. With a cry, he breaks down and begs for mercy while offering information.
"Our brotherhood was recruited by the agents who attacked the senate. We were tasked with eliminating particular troublemakers, such as Lotheed," he explains, speaking rapidly in fear. "But the Child Blade had the idea to toy with the bastard noblewoman - let her escape to her safe house, then capture and interrogate her."
Gulbend grinds his teeth as he watches his weak-willed comrade spew forth such secrets.
"Your death will be slow and agonizing, Yogga," Gulbend threatens the other halfling. "Your weakness has betrayed the Brotherhood."
"Who's the 'Child Blade' anyway?" Chana leans in towards Yogga, towering over the bound halfling in the way she saw many a thug tower over a child when she was younger.
"Well you're certainly not going to be around to make sure of that Gulbend. I'm beginning to think you're a little crazy."
"Can't we toss him in a closet or drawer to shut him up for a while?" Amandine asks the others, but mostly Photine since it her place. "He's beginning to give me a headache."
"The Child Blade is our leader," Yogga continues, unsilenced by Gulbend's reproach. "She hunted down her own mentor when he sent assassins after her, earning the Silent Blade's divine favor in the process and taking leadership of the Silent Brotherhood."
"So, wot's the Child Blade's plan wid this questionin'? Wot does she want ta know from Lotheed?" Chana asks some probing questions, trying to work out if haste is of the essence. "Somethin' she needs ta get b'fore offin' 'er? I'd reckon Martella's pretty good at keepin' 'er mouf shut."
Gulbend, Yogga, and their dead companion are clear proof that this stereotype is incorrect. Whether assassins or some murder cult, they seem to operate beneath the cover provided by people's assumptions that halflings are all good-natured, food-loving munchkins.
"Princess Eutropia!" Yogga exclaims. "Lotheed keeps closer company with the Princess than anyone realizes. If we can get Eutropia's location, her death would be the greatest offering we could possibly make to Thamir Gixx."
The glazed, worshipful look that overtakes Yogga's eyes suggest that he is still a believer in this dark god of theirs. Nevertheless, he remains far more weak-willed than Gulbend. Chana can clearly tell that he is too frightened to be deceptive right now.
Chana crosses her arms. "Arright, we got anythin' else to ahsk 'em? 'Cos if we don', we got some plannin' to do, and this lot don't need to be awake for that." Once the rest of the team is out of questions, she knocks the three halflings back out with her scimitar, re-checks their bindings, and finds a nice corner to dump them.
----
Once that's done, she adds "So, we're not gonna let 'em find out w'ere the Princess is, right? An even if we don' know Martella that well, I'm not about to let some psycho 'alflings 'ave their way wit 'er!" Despite the fierceness of her statement, she manages to yawn after it.
As you keep watch within the Aurelius estate, you expect riots and chaos to roil down the streets of Oppara in the wake of the massacre at the Senate. Much to your surprise and relief, however, the city falls into an uncertain silence and an uneasy calm. Still in a state of shock, many Opparans stay in their homes and businesses, leaving the streets almost deserted.
Near dawn, there comes a knock upon the door.
Photinè shows everyone to guest rooms and couches, passes out an excessive amount of pillows and blankets, and offers everyone their choice of warm milk or tea to help them fall asleep. She takes her turn watching the unconscious halflings, and then gently wakes the next person. With that done, the arcanist spends an hour or so in the bath with her spellbook, studying and making careful notations in the margin, and slips into bed to fall deeply asleep.
On any other day, Photinè prefers to lounge in bed until well into the day, but this is certainly an unusual circumstance if there ever was one; she rises just before dawn to wrap herself in a silk robe and head downstairs to prepare coffee and toast for everyone, sleepily greeting the already-risen Chiara.
She jumps when the knock comes on her door, and quietly makes her way to the front room to peek outside from behind the curtains.
Greenly takes second watch, sitting on the halflings and chewing her red weed, lost in meditative thought.
She has the good courtesy to clean up after herself, wiping up all the spit before waking up whoever takes third watch.
The knocking does not wake her. She sleeps on a couch, to some definition of 'on a couch'. Her ass is in a seat, sure, but with her head on the ground and feet in the air, snoring away.