.
As you draw nearer to the Wall of Names, you find Marcos Farabellus alone, pacing its length, inspecting each name with grim solemnity. As you finally approach he has reached the end of the Wall, inscribed with the names of the most recent Pathfinders to fall to further the Society’s cause. He turns to you all and greets you with a small, toothless smile, but the sorrow over his fallen comrades still lingers in his eyes.
“I thought this place appropriate. You know, all of the agents who’ve fallen in service to the Society have their names inscribed here; for me, it’s a reminder that the Society’s deeds often come at a cost. I asked each of you to join me here today, for I could think of no better place to give you this serious mission. I apologize for the abrupt letter, but the situation is urgent. However,” The Master of Swords gazes towards the sun and does some quick calculations. “We have some time to kill at the moment. It has been far too long since I’ve seen many of you, and it’s likely that your compatriots likely don’t know you themselves, so please, let’s get introductions out of the way. Likewise, I wish to hear of your exploits since you’ve achieved the Seeker status and retired from the Society.”
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The cavalier is wearing his full plate armor, his lance in hand with its banner and pennon attached. His shield is slung across his back.
"I am Sir Hendric the Vigilant, Cavalier of Lastwall. Champion of Iomedae, Defender of the Innocent, Vanquisher of the Guilty, Servant of Justice, Knight of the Sword and Barrister at Law."
He nods to Marcos.
"I have been up to the usual - righting wrongs and taking on evil wherever it may be found. The Worldwound, Belkzen, Ustalav... leading troops or striking out on my own, as the need is. Often using my familiar tactic as you may know from the Chronicles - a daring lance charge against a foe that is far stronger than I. From that minotaur so long ago, to the Retriever, the Shemhazian, the Glabrezu, and many more. But there are also times for diplomacy and tact. I've found several promising recruits for the Society. The strange wizard who thinks he might be Aroden reincarnated - he's been dutiful and helpful on missions if nothing else. Who knows if he has a vestige or not? Then there is the Lastwall warrior who seeks to serve both the Society and the Knights of Ozem; I am still hoping that the Society's knowledge might help the Knights rectify their greatest mistake. There is also the now-Desnan, Mohag the Wanderer. He was a young Ulfen in a raiding party, led by a so-called 'invulnerable' berserker. Once the rest surrendered, the Ulfen paid his debts and I then showed him a better way."
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Stepping out from the shadows comes a small wayang, his black cloak almost shimmering in the room, making it hard to track him even as he stands. His face is covered with ritual scars and piercings, jet black bars that cover his face in odd geometric shapes. Surprisingly easier to see his his shadow... which stands a few feet away from him, before pulling itself off the floor.
I am Nox Neuropastum, the Society's shade assassin.
His voice is quiet, almost a croak, as if he is unused to actually speaking to people.
I retired after my most dangerous mission, cutting the throat of the Runelord of Sloth. I thought perhaps, with this...
He holds out a emerald bigger than a pear, gleaming with supernatural beauty.
But alas, I could not bring myself to part with it. So I found a small hovel, a place where the sun did not shine to brightly, and have taken to studying, studying and learning more about the darkness of my blood. I must admit, I was impressed your message found me... i had taken a great many precautions to not be bothered.
He smiles darkly.
But Xon was apparently getting bored of all the quiet... he certainly does miss the adventures.
The shadow cackles loudly, the opposite of the quiet Wayang.
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Joining you is a rather unusual specimen for a dwarf. Unlike many you've probably seen he takes no special care in his facial hair. It is not braided or trimmed or decorated in any way, just left to its own to grow wild as it pleases. He doesn't wear a shell of heavy armor or carry a weapon. But appears dressed in plain clothes, though it appears many of the accessories he carries are fancy, probably magical. An amulet, bracers, belt, a band of bronze on his brow, and many others adorn him and cause him to stand out among the rabble. What really causes him to stand out is the fact that he stinks. All about him he exudes the smell of the sea at low tide, if it were plagued with schools of dead fish left to rot in the heat of the sun.
They call me Tortuga, the captain of the Granite Helm the sturdiest ship on the Inner Sea. And before you say anything, yes I know it smells to you like I've rolled around in the bilge of my ship before coming ashore. It cannot be helped. It's something I was born with, not a curse or a disease that magic can take away. You can't cover it up any more than you can spraying a fish with perfume. That's one of the reasons I took to the seas. My clan couldn't stand to be around me, so that's why they exiled me. I spent some time wandering and eventually was taken in at a seaside monastery. The monks there were the first people ever to treat me so well, didn't seem to mind the smell too much at all. So after learning what I could from the monks I decided to head to Absalom. Colson Maldris, though he did seem to mind the smell, decided he could use me working on one of the ships that patrolled the Inner Sea looking for pirates and slavers. So even though I'm a dwarf I learned to love the open sea, the spray of the waves against my skin and the wind in my sails.
So once I was done with my Pathfinder career, I simply got back aboard my ship and started doing what I knew.
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Standing just a shade over 6 and a half feet tall, the broad-shouldered man before you is clearly descended from Angels. Both his unearthly grace and beauty, and more obviously his pure white feathered wings, mark him being descended from the upper planes.
which is what makes his body langauge all the more apparent. He has the look of someone who has been betrayed, repeatedly, and is the worse for it.
His porcelain skin is unblemished, save for a jagged scar that runs from his brow above the middle of his left eye to the middle-right hand side of the bridge of his nose.
He currently wears a Kimono of silken dyed blue and white, showing Herons in flight over a serene pond, but he carries a pack with him that likely contains his adventuring gear.
He wears a single weapon at his hip: a well-made Katana, the handle wrapped in alternating blue and white lace.
When Marcus asks for him to introduce himself and share his recent endeavors, the Aasimar nods curtly and says "My name is Kaldane Starlight, but you may all call me Kaldane. I can cast magic drawn from the power of both Nature and my curse."
"As for what I have been doing for the last few years, I am assembling a weapon to attempt to kill a god."
Kaldane then goes on to explain that he was once a priest of Razmir, and that after hearing rumors of the activities of some of the priesthood in recruiting the poor and downtrodden and then using them as a tool of cohersion on those in power, he and another of the faithful who were in service to the Pathfinder Society sought and received an audience with the God himself.
After explaining the situation, Razmir asked what the problem was.
Both men then explained that such behavior was unfitting of the church's mission.
Razmir then called down lightning to smite the heretics, and battle was joined.
Try as they might, however, neither man could even injure Razmir, let alone stop him. In short order, Kaldane's mask had been cracked by a blade summoned by Razmir's will, and his companion has lost his eye.
Drawing on his link to the Hojin Tapestry, Kaldane managed to get himself and his companion to freedom, but the cost had been high.
Now, Kaldane continues to serve as a Pathfinder, only this time he does so to find the knowledge he needs to craft a god-slaying weapon.
”We are still waiting on two other agents, but it seems you four will have to catch them up.” Marcos looks once more towards the sun. ”Now, let’s get down to business while we still have daylight,” The Master of Swords is visibly pensive for a moment before continuing. “Through their proxies, the Decemvirate have completed negotiations with the Thuvian city-state of Pashow. As you may or may not know, Pashow is set to receive the latest shipment of Thuvia’s famous sun orchid elixir—a tonic that rejuvenates and forestalls the ravages of age. The last two
shipments of the elixir to Pashow over the last decade have failed to reach the city, and in their third attempt, they seek the aid of the Society to ensure nothing goes amiss.
“You might ask yourself what business the Society has in
dealing with the sun orchid trade, or sending agents to act as convoy guards—especially agents as esteemed and talented as you. Well, there are two reasons: First we are currently undergoing the process of creating a new lodge in Pashow and the Venture-Captain of what will be the Pashow Lodge brought this situation to my attention and he has...quite a way with words so I could not just ignore him. Second is the situation that the Venture-Captain brought to my attention: the leader of Pashow, Emir Guldis, has solid evidence that the Aspis Consortium intends to make an attempt on the delivery, seeking to claim the elixir for the Consortium.”
Farabellus sweeps his arm over a section of the wall inscribed with the names of dozens of fallen agents. “The Aspis wounded us, hit us here, on the grounds of this very lodge. These names are all those who fell in that heinous attack, and the one who we’ve learned organized that attack is also the one planning to rob Pashow. Even if you have no care for vengeance, I ask that you lend your services to protect a troubled city from Aspis schemes and avert the chaos and hardship that would ensue. You’ll act as representatives of the Pathfinder Society, ensuring that Emir Guldis and his city get their elixir, and that the Consortium gets nothing.
“As you ensure the delivery of an alchemical miracle capable
of extending one’s life by a few decades, remember that the
names inscribed on this wall are immortal in a way far beyond
anything that can be found within a vial. Remember that we owe the names on this wall for the sacrifice they made—a sacrifice that allows this Society to endure. Now, are there any questions?”
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Sir Hendric looks a little perturbed. "The natural end of life is not to be feared, if one has lived with honor. This elixir has always struck me as... well not quite as troubling as undeath, but drawing from the same wellspring of fear of judgment. Still, I do not wish the Consortium to get the elixir, and I understand the value of expanding our operations to Thuvia. I accept the mission."
The knight thinks for a minute.
"Has Emir Guldis shared the nature of this 'solid evidence'? Does he have an informant within the Consortium? We must be wary of traps. And when is this delivery expected to begin its journey? Have we time to prepare?"
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Nox twirls a arrow and gives a soft frown.
I have no love for the snakes. I lost good friends over the years to them. For the good of the society, as well as to stick it to the snakes, I'm happy to lend my bow.
As Sir Hendric makes his perturbed objection, the little wayang chuckles.
You are not far wrong. But remember, the elixir only extends life, it doesn't prevent death. Theoretically, even if one could take the elixir forever you would still eventually die of old age, with enough time.
He taps his chin in thought.
Also remember, that pretty much all of the elixir drinkers are human... your race has the shortest life, and it is hardly fair that elves and dwarves and others such as myself get so many years more to explore this world. Consider it a fair price that a proper merchant has paid to even the odds, and someone is trying to steal it. That theft cannot be tolerated... especially when it's snakes doing the thieving.
”The wayang is correct. The elixir itself merely reverses the aging process temporarily, it does not stop aging completely; those who wish to avoid the Boneyard with the elixir must be willing and able to spend millions of gold pieces every few years, and even that does not come without risks; those who participate in Thuvia’s annual auction must part with their bid on the elixir, even those who are outbid. But when the reward is theoretical immortality, many are willing to part with more than just an arm and a leg.
“As for how the Emir knew about the Aspis involvement, I would be lying if I said that I knew. Thuvians are extremely secretive when it comes to the elixir, and they are putting the Society on a need-to-know basis; it’s very unlikely that you will be able to get the Emir to tell you how he acquired this knowledge, and I ask that you do not pressure him into telling you. Honestly, I’m surprised that the Society learned of this situation when we did; usually we receive word from our usual Aspis insider, Three Rings, about something this significant. But I suppose a heist of this size would be on a need-to-know basis within the Aspis itself.
“What we do know is that the elixir is attempted to be stolen by an Aspis Gold Agent by the name of Kitio Aspenthi. However, we have other agents tracking him down, so do not concern yourselves with him unless you come face-to-face with the Gold Agent.”
The Master of Swords shoots a dagger-like gaze at Xon, followed by Nox ”You are to keep that thing under control, Nox. We can’t risk losing critical information simply because your shadow got hungry. That said, I cannot guarantee that you will see the Gold Agent, because you will be acting as the Emir’s emergency response team. I have already sent a force of Pathfinders to act as the convoy to transport the elixir, whereas you all will act as a response team to be sent to the scene of an incident to ensure the safety of the elixir.”
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The shadow looks appropriately chastised as Nox gives a curt nod.
Of course. I apologize. He is my shadow, and he will obey... he's just more excitable than I am.
He gives a small twitch and glares at the shadow.
Opposites, light and darkness, and all that.
The shadow gives Nox a rude gesture as he rolls his eyes and turns to give a low bow of apology before turning to the team.
I am not a commander of any sorts, so if someone, perhaps you Sir Hendric, would like to give the marching orders, it seems prudent to move quickly. Can we safely assume Master that you have some means of transportation in place, and a way to place us where we are needed should the envoy be attacked on it's way?
Marcos sighs as he begins to answer Hendric’s question. ”That which the public knows is that the auction for the elixir is to begin tomorrow morning,” ”The auction will continue for one week before the elixirs are handed to the highest bidders. Since the last two shipments of the elixir to Pashow has been lost, Emir Guldis is trying his damnedest to ensure that this shipment arrives safely, including swearing everyone involved to secrecy. The Emir flat-out refuses to inform me of those questions when I asked myself, only telling me to send the Society’s best, that’s you, to Thuvia to meet with him as soon as possible today at way-too-early-in-the-morning o’clock. Emir Guldis may be more willing to inform you all of the details when you get there; you all will need to know the specifics, I don’t.” ”While we’re on the subject, one of Pashow’s elite conjurers is currently on standby to act as your transportation to Thuvia. I informed her that you all would see her once this briefing is finished, and that it should not take more than a half-hour; she reluctantly agreed.
“And Hendric, my friend,” Farabellus places a hand on the shoulder of Sir Hendric. ”I know of the controversy surrounding this miracle drug, but think not about it as a method of subverting the inevitable, but for this mission, see it as the Abadarans do: A method of creating financial and economic stability within an agriculturally barren land.”
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Sir Hendric nods. "I have no need for such an elixir myself; I hope Iomedae will welcome me into her service when my time on this mortal realm is up. But it is legitimate commerce for others."
"I would have put us as the convoy guard and others as the response team. A well-planned attack on the convoy might employ teleportation or planar travel to leave no way for us to follow. In fact, that raises a question -- why even transport this Elixir in a caravan? Why not simply use teleportation magic to bring it from the alchemists' laboratory to the Emir's palace?
Well, let's see if we can meet up with the convoy before anything bad happens."
The Master of Swords lets out one of his signature Marcos-Farabellus-belly-laughs, though it seems outlined with some sorrow, or perhaps pity.
”Pashow, unlike its four sister city-states, is quite specialized in the use of magic and the arcane, especially their conjurers. But there’s been a taboo surrounding the use of teleportation magic to deliver the elixir from the Citadel of the Alchemist, and it seems the troubles of Pashow lend credence to that belief. Both times that Emir Guldis attempted to secure his city’s shipments were with teleportation magic, and both went horribly wrong. At least teleportation magic for any other purpose seems safe. Emir Guldis is not risking Pashow’s entire economy for the next five years on the use of teleportation magic, and if the Aspis are smart—which is debatable—they wouldn’t risk teleporting with the elixir either.”
The Master of Swords folds his arms, as if deep in thought.
”As for equipment, I understand that you will need to make purchases, but I ask that you do so quickly; Time May be of the essence, but I highly doubt Emir Guldis would like you all to be ill-prepared.”
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I got a handful of wands that the lot of you can use if needed.
Also, can someone use these scrolls to charge my ring?
So we are on a goodwill mission, propping up the economy of an otherwise barren land, got it. So what do we know of this Kitio Aspenthi? What are his usual tactics? Anything that might help us determine likely means of attack?
Farabellus pulls out a leather-bound dossier and looks it over briefly.
”Now that’s where Three Rings has helped us. He is known within the Consortium as simply ‘Deadeye,’ an ironic twist on Erastil’s nickname, if you ask me, so expect an attack from a range, at least to some extent.”
Marcos closes the dossier and stashes it in a satchel at his side.
”Now then, if there are no more questions then I suggest you get any equipment that you may need and meet me at Starhall; I think we’ve kept the Emir waiting long enough. I will see if I can contact the other two agents who have yet to show.”
A look of realization snaps across Marcos’s face as he rummages through his satchel and pulls out a ceramic disk about the size of a tavern coaster, which he then hands to Nox. One side bears the Glyph of the Open Road, while the other bears the image of a pair of crossed swords.
”This is an interesting variant of a Pathfinder’s Coin that I had commissioned; when broken it will allow you to send a message of 100 words or less and for me to send a response of the same length. Should the unexpected occur and the situation changes, I want you to update me to the current situation.”
As Nox (and anyone else who doesn’t leave to buy equipment) arrives at Starhall, he finds a Mwangi woman waiting impatiently. She is bedecked in numerous strange items that she must be wearing for their magical properties, most significantly a robe bedecked with numerous embroideries of a flower.
”Lokho kuthathe isikhathi eside kakhulu,” the woman says under her breath.
Surprise crosses the woman’s face for a moment at Tortuga’s response before it vanishes, returning her to her previous expression.
”Well, when my home’s economy for the next five years is on the line I believe I am justified in being a bit impatient!”
The woman speaks in a thick and oddly out-of-place Osirioni accent.
”Farhaana Zedah, court conjurer of Emir Guldis of Pashow, but today I’m apparently your chauffeur. Can we please leave now?”
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At the Starhall, apparently making small talk with some of the other spell caster's there, is a short man, barely 5 feet tall, and apparently made of rock, with green crystals instead of hair.
several small gem stones float around the man's head and what appears to be the arm of some sort of construct hangs from a belt also made of stone.
as the group enters the stone man never turns to face you initially, yet somehow knows of your presence regardless of how quiet you enter.
greetings, I think you may be looking for me. I appear to have gotten lost and stopped by here for directions. he turns to face the group. his eye are pure white with no apparent pupils.
I am Nuck-Tuck, I am from the Fort Inevetable in the River Kingdoms, I apologize for my tardiness. I was in the middle of arraigning a trip into the Emerald Spire to gather some more information for the Society when I received the letter. And besides, it takes time and patience to make a stone move.
Farabellus smiles and nods.
”Ah, yes, the specialist from the Emerald Spire, I remember your file...”
Farhaan interrupts.
”Yes, quite great. Can we leave now?”
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A half-elf joins the group. He wears green clothing. And he wears a lot of accessory on himself. What it seem to be the most happy is his bow.
"Hi, I am the Venture-Captain Gaétan Émond. I am a very good archer and a follower of Erastil. It been a long time since I had my last mission. So please wait a moment, before we go... what was our mission? Please be simple."
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Kaldane finds a changing room and dons his armor and various accoutrements of the adventuring trade and then makes his way to the Starhall.
"Greetings to you Mistress Zedah. I believe that I am ready to go."
Turning to Geatan, Kaldane says "Only preventing the theft of a Sun Orchid Elixir by Aspis agents."
As everyone joins hands in a circle, Farhaana speaks some arcane words and suddenly, the Grand Lodge disappears and you all arrive in a relatively small room with a large glass window overlooking a large desert city.
The tension within this room could be cut with a knife, as everyone seems to be on edge. Besides those who just teleported in, there are three individuals within the room, as well as a set of maps laid out on a large table, a tray of markers set off to one side. The first person is a small, stout Garundi man sitting behind the table sitting in a chair. He wears clothing that seem to have once been regal, but have now accrued frays and ripped seams in places. Behind him stands a muscular Garundi woman wearing a breastplate made of mithral and bearing a bardiche on her back; she carries a set of leather dossiers in one hand. Sitting opposite of the stout man sits a half-elf of obvious Taldan descent, sipping tea as if unaffected by the air of anxiety in the room. He wears the clothing of an obvious noble, a cane made of darkwood with a head of adamantine sits at his side.
As you all teleport in, the stout man slams his hands on the table and standing from his chair, doing so with a mixture of eagerness and impatience.
”You’re here! These are them, right?! Please tell me these are them! I hope they’re as capable as you made them out to be, Venture-Captain.”
The half-elf takes one last sip of tea before setting down his cup on the table.
”Yes, Emir, these are the agents that I told you of, and I assure you that they are most certain worthy of being here. Now that they are, we can begin.”
The Emir looks obviously uncomfortable at the half-elf’s request.
”You are in charge of the Pathfinder convoy, Venture-Captain, I ask that you please leave to oversee the convoy while I take care of this.”
The half-elf chuckles.
”Emir, the vials have yet to come out of the Citadel of the Alchemist, the situation has yet to come to a point where I need to relieve my stand-in...”
“Kahlvet, my city’s economy is currently hanging by a thread and you are supposed to be overseeing your convoy, and I believe I just politely asked you to do your part of the plan to deliver the elixirs, so I will ask you again: please ”
The silence bites the air as the Venture-Captain stares in shock at the Emir before bowing, grabbing his cane, and heading towards the door, pulling out a scroll as he does so.
Emir Guldis pulls out a handkerchief and wipes the sweat from his forehead.
”Sorry about that. I’m sure you all are hungry. How about something to eat?”
The Emir claps his hands and three servants enter the room carrying silver platters, which they then set on the table. After they do so, they all bow to the Emir and leave.
”Eat! Drink! Take a seat! We have much to discuss.”
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Sir Hendric has not been keeping up with the doings of noble families, so he doesn't recognize the half-elf Taldan. Clearly the Venture-Captain that Marcos spoke of. Sir Hendric bows to the Emir. "Your Highness." He makes a point of observing all the proper courtesies and forms of address. He won't take a seat before the Emir does, for example.
Sir Hendric observes the Emir's discomfort, and eats no more than the Emir does.
"Your Highness, we are prepared to assist you."
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As soon as the party lands in the new room, Nox is nowhere to be seen. In fact, he disappears so quickly and quietly, you are forced to wonder for a moment if he actually came with you. Until you notice his shadow is still standing there. Other than some food disappearing inconspicuously from a few plates, it's impossible to tell where the little wayang has gotten to.
Hehehe... Don't worry ya highness, you asked for the best, you got the best.
He stops for a moment and then says.
My more solid half agrees. The risk is great, but pathfinders have faced greater.
More than a few times before he left, Nox actually makes eye contact with the half-elf, as if he finds it amusing to look at you.
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”Ah, yes. Sir....uh... Saabira?”
The muscular woman hands the Emir the dossier The Emir flips through the pages before he finds the place that he apparently needs to be.
”’Sir Hendric of Laswall,’ I knew you were a sir, ‘Champion of Iomedae and Barrister-at-Law.’ Iomedaean barrister? That’s a new one. ‘Nox the Shadow-Walker,’ I at least assume he’s here, considering that he seems to...uh...’disappear at the dimming of light instantaneously.’ ‘Kaldane the Excommunicated,’ ‘Nuck Tuk of the Emerald Spire,’ ‘Captain Tortuga of the Granite Helm,’ ‘Géatan Émond, Sentinel of Old Deadeye,’ looks like everyone’s here.
“I thank you all for coming on such short notice; I know the negotiations between my city-state and your Decemvirate only recently came to a conclusion. Sadly, there is little time for pleasantries, as the sun orchid elixir is likely already being delivered into the hands of my agents at the entrance to the
Citadel of the Alchemist.”
Emir Guldis places a small marker near the mountains south of
Pashow on the grand map before him.
“Dozens of convoys have convened to receive either one of
the six vials of the sun orchid elixir or a convincing fake. From there, the convoys will split up to travel to Pashow by myriad means and paths. We do not expect any activity within sight of the citadel, and using a variety of travel methods gives us the best chance of ensuring at least some of the elixir makes its way here.”
The emir places several small convoy markers near the marker at the south end of the map. Immediately, magical lines of color, matching the colors of their respective markers, form on
the map. Each of the lines zigzags through the desert or moves
in a direct line, ending at the northern edge of the map where
Pashow is styled in deep crimson ink.
“I have retained your services not as mere caravan guards. No, you are the last contingency to assist should any of our true convoys come under attack. I have several conjurers on standby to magically transport wherever you are needed most. The Decemvirate have promised me that you are their most experienced agents, and your presence eases my mind in the
face of potentially losing a third shipment. I pray to the Keeper of the First Vault that nothing truly dire will occur. Now, are there any questions?”
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Xon tilts his head for a moment.
Nox wants to know if you have an reason to suspect inside betrayal, if only due to the size of the operation, and if other than the gold they are paid, you have any mundane or magical means to ensure the cooperation of those helping to transport.
Xon giggles.
Leave it to Nox to expect backstabbing! Hehehehe! But he's not wrong per say... He says "Each of us has our own reasons for not being willing to betray the society for a bribe. Can we say the same for your men?"
”That is always a possibility, but I have taken serious and significant precautions to minimize the risk of inside betrayal. Many of those involved are locals, Abadarans, or both; Pashow’s Abadaran clergy was where the majority of the assistance came from, for they saw firsthand the economic ruin Pashow has experienced over the past decade. But man is imperfect, and that is where you all come in. Yours is the most extensive background check that we did, because it’s your mission to ensure the elixir makes its way to Pashow. Keep in mind, though, that this is the biggest project Pashow has operated in the past ten years, and we have been in financial ruin, so we cannot afford to do any more, in fact, I was only able to acquire the assistance of the Society because Lord Kahlvet is a friend of a friend. I am doing all that I can and more to ensure the safety of even one elixir, if we cannot achieve that, Pashow will not survive another five years...”
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In response to the Emir's surprise, Sir Hendric merely responds, "Not all justice is delivered on the battlefield. Sometimes one must punish the guilty and defend the innocent in a court of law. Though I admit I have not worked many cases these past two years."
He considers the situation.
"Multiple convoys, some of them decoys. Wise. Though I fear Nox may be correct. Betrayal from within would seem to be the most successful course of action for the Aspis. The Consortium could well have leverage over someone you don't suspect. Threatening the family; magical compulsion; mind-reading; or the promise of greater riches. I assume only you know the full plan, including which caravans carry the true elixir? That I would prefer you not tell us unless absolutely necessary. I am not fully warded against all mind-reading magic - certainly not as well as a king or an emir might be. Well, if we are needed, I am prepared to go. Still, if you don't expect any activity within sight of the citadel, and the vials have only just left there, perhaps we will not be needed in the next hour? If you could show me to the stables, I would like to let my horse out and allow him to eat."
He indicates what appears to be an engraving of a horse on his armor. "One of Lastwall's finest destriers."
If this is acceptable, he will go to the stables, release Sentry, allow the horse to walk a bit and eat his fill, then return the horse to sleep in the armor once more.