"Where is he?" Cimri mutters, pacing back and forth in front of the Ash House's broken entryway. "First Nomed, now Wolfgang..." She turns to Eradessa and Sicaria, her face a frustrated frown. "You didn't see Wolfgang hiding somewhere on our way back, did you?"
As if on cue, the tiefling scurries around the corner of the ruined estate. Cimri laughs, "Speak of the devil - literally!" and tosses him a pouch of coin before pointing to the east. "Not a moment too soon either if we're to make it to Scarlet Crown before the evening bells."
Scarlet Crown lies southeast of Longacre on the outskirts of town. A pair of rampant iron stags watches over the gate on the road leading up to the manor. Red glass shimmers on the stags' horns, suggesting the source of the manor's name. Below, a pair of grim-faced guards stand watch.
"Halt," on says as she levels a halberd at the miscreants, "and state your business."
"We have an appointment with the archbaron," Cimri replies haughtily."He's expecting us."
"Hmph." The guard gives the miscreants a few looks before raising her weapon and pointing further up the road. "Go ahead."
The path winds around the estate and up a slight incline to the building itself. Sharp gables and tall, narrow windows lend the archbaron’s manor an abbeylike quality, as though this were more a place for study and solemnity than leisure and laughter. A motif of rampant stags with antlers bloody from battle repeats among iron rooftop finials and on a crest above the stone entrance. Several other guards stand watch around the building and courtyard, while halfling slips scurry around without looking anyone in the eye.
At the front door, a halfling in fine livery waits. "Ah, you've arrived. I am the butler - follow me please." He leads the miscreants through a starkly-decorated entryway towards a grand staircase on the opposite side. Two men sit in tall-backed chairs near a banked fireplace, and the butler pauses next to them. "The archbaron is ready to see you as well, sirs."
At the top of the staircase, a long hallway with an arched ceiling leads to an office appointed in midnight ebony and crimson satin. Towering bookshelves and glassy-eyed taxidermic creatures line the walls, making space only for several curtained alcoves. At the far end of the room, a large desk and throne-like chair sit beneath a coat of arms displaying battling, bloody-horned stags. A sparse-looking man with slick salt-and-pepper hair stands behind the desk, looking out a wide window that overlooks the manor grounds.
At the sound of the butler clearing his throat, the man turns around. "Ah, thank you Harold," he answers with a thin, confident voice. "That will be all for now." As the halfling closes the door behind him, the man crosses his arms and looks over the miscreants.
“So you’re the agents Razelago has recommended? I can’t say you’re what I expected - but that might be a boon in the days to come. I am Darellus Fex, Archbaron of Longacre. Razelago tells me you’re the ones who reported our local priestess’s... lack of patriotism. As such, I thought you might be well suited putting an end to the threats to Longacre and the rule of law - my rule. If you’re amenable, of course.
"And you, boy. Your mother's letter mentioned you have found yourself in a... delicate situation. Unfortunately, I am unable to help with my lands under the threat of turmoil and chaos like this. Perhaps once this is all over I can devote some time to studying your case. Of course, if you would prefer to help bring this unpleasantness in Longacre to an end, I would be happy to return the favor that much sooner."
The archbaron pauses, leaning on his desk. "So, what say you?"
Marcianus is staring into a half-empty wineglass as the party arrives, taking no notice of the slip as he approaches, but nods assent as the archbaron is mentioned.
He sets the wineglass on a sidetable and stands, straightening the well-made black wool coat with the golden embroidered vines on the sleeves. As he straightens the sleeves of hit starched white shirt, he winces and you notice his hands stiffen within the long soft leather gloves that cover his hands and forearms.
Looking at the people that will accompany him in to see the archbaron, he frowns slightly, then turns to his companion. "It appears the time has come at last, Zeke. Be on your best behavior. The archbaron is not a man to offend."
Zeke has been staring at the newly arrived party members since the door opened, but also ignores the slip, not even acknowledging being addressed.
He eyes each member with a smug expression, and a half smile. He especially eyes Cimri, looking her up and down as the smile widens, never touching his eyes.
As Marcianus speaks, he stands and throws back the rest of the brandy that was in his glass before carelessly thrown the glass in the chair that he vacated.
He stands half a foot taller than his 20-something companion and wears a tightly fitted shirt that shows off an impressive physique. He cracks the knuckles on his large hands, while flexing his forearms in a way that causes the oddly glowing arrow, shaped tattoos on each arm to dance.
Running a hand through his oiled, long, curly black hair and along his pointed beard he grins at Marcianus, then picks up the large silver lucerne hammer that has been leaning near the fireplace, sliding it into the loops that hold it on his back.
"Oh, I'm right behind you... Mark" he says slyly.
With an annoyed expression, Marcianus attempts to ignore the rudeness and follows the slip into the archbaron's office.
As the archbaron finishes speaking, Marcianus bows, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. Delicate? How ironic. He flexes his hands again. I wonder how much mother told him, or how much she even knows. Certainly she mentioned that I seek favors that he can hopefully provide.
"Thank you for receiving me, Archbaron, and for entertaining my requests. Naturally, I would be pleased to help His Lordship with whatever issues might be troubling him."
Straightening, and putting on an easy smile, he continues "I am only recently arrived in Longacre, sir, and have not heard of the specific issues that you need cleared up. If you would do me the honor of enlightening me, I am sure the problems can be dealt with quickly."
"Oh, THIS place!" Eradessa exclaims, finally realizing she's dining with the big rich dude in charge of the place. "Yeah, I've never been here."
Inside, Eradessa gives the Archbaron a curtsy and a dimpled smile. "You're very welcome, Archbaron Fex, sir! My duty and pleasure!"
"More work?" Eradessa's smile widens. "How may we be of service, Archbaron?" she asks, dipping low into another curtsy.
On the way to the Scarlet Crown Sicaria is visibly tense. On more than one occasion her hands drift to the hilts of her swords—to the point that she consciously avoids doing so as much as possible. She stays silent, not saying a single word as the miscreants travel to the Archbaron’s abode.
When the butler finally herds them into the archbaron’s office and she finally gets a glimpse of the man does she finally seem to relax, as if relieved about something. She, however, does not bow, curtsy, or the like upon finally meeting Darellus Fex, merely looking at the an straight on.
She listens intently to the archbaron’s words, particularly once he mentions the local priestess. When he begins talking about the letter from the mother of this unknown face, Sicaria brings her hand up to her neck. She grasps one side of a loop of leather draped over her neck and pulls at it, pulling a wooden pendant that was hidden within her armor. The oakwood pendant has been stained a dark crimson and is sculpted in the shape of a pair of crisscrossed mantis claws. It settles over her sternum, clearly visible to all present, as she brings her hand back down to her side.
The archbaron pauses, leaning on his desk. "So, what say you?"
Sicaria partially folds her arms, her left hand hovering over her chest as she softly presses her thumb and middle finger on the sides of the N-shaped pendant. Her eyes wander over to the bookshelves to the sides of the room—she tries reading the names on the books’ spines but ultimately gives up as she doesn’t necessarily care, she simply needed somewhere to look for a moment that was not the archbaron.
”For the sake of transparency, you should know that I will agree to nothing without proper consideration of what will come upon a task’s completion. However,” Sicaria meets Fex’s gaze once more with a raised eyebrow and a smirk on her face. ”I am certainly intrigued. Let us speak of the task itself before the discussion turns to the topic of compensation.”
Wolfgang sweats more than usual as the Miscreants approach the Scarlet Crown, and his anxiety doesn't improve when they are introduced to the Archbaron concurrently with the two newcomers. The tiefling tries to focus on the Archbaron's speech, but catches himself staring, distracted by the aristocrat's remarkable mustache.
How does he get it to stand out to the sides like that?
Worried that the Archbaron might think him rude for staring, Wolfgang forces himself to look at the room around him.
Books! Look at all of these books! I wonder if the Archbaron would let me look through some of these tomes some time. I bet I could...
Why isn't anybody talking? The Archbaron was talking, but I think he stopped a couple of minutes ago. Wolfgang searches his memory of the last few minutes.
Let's see. I'm pretty sure the new guy said something. Then Eradessa, then Sicaria - did Sicaria tell him to piss off? I hope not. Then who was next?... Oh, crap. They're waiting for me.
Wolfgang coughs into his sleeve, then murmurs, "Errr, my apologies - your Majesty has a tremendous library, and I was momentarily distracted by the, umm, breadth of knowledge available to you. So, ahhh, you were saying... that is... I was saying... How can we humble miscreants be of service to the House of Fex?"
I really wish I had had time to buy some new clothes.
Marcianus glances worriedly between Sicaria and the Archbaron, waiting to see how the man will deal with such disrespect.
If that fool angers the man and screws up my introduction, maybe I can appease him by offering to rip out her tongue.
The archbaron nods at Marcianus's and Eradessa's responses, but arches an eyebrow when Sircaria speaks. "Someone who thinks to read the contract before ink is set to paper - Razelago really did find outstanding agents." After Wolfgang chimes in, Fex takes a seat and invites his guests to do so as well with an extended hand towards a collection of reading chairs and stools.
"The task itself: you have been performing tasks for me through an intermediary for the past several days. Now, I would like you to enter my service directly. You might be interested to know that this would make you de facto representatives of the imperial government, and I would expect you to behave as such."
"Your compensation, should you agree, will be equivalent to one hundred and fifty pieces of gold each week. Of course, you are welcome to whatever salvage or loot you might come across while in my service. Continue to perform well, and I would be open to discretionary bonuses."
"As for your assistance, Marcianus, perhaps you and your friend would also be interested in helping these fine people? I would be happy to extend the compensation to you as well, should you be interested."
The archbaron crosses his arms and taps a finger. "I believe that covers your stated concerns," he concludes, nodding at the assassin. "So. Do we have a deal?"
Sighing inwardly when the Archbaron passes over and actually seems to praise Sicaria's statements. He must be used to dealing with mercenaries. I will need to acquaint myself to their ways.
Taking a seat, he considers the rest of the people quietly. "I seek to get noticed and to prove my worth. To yourself and eventually to your superiors, if I can serve you well.
To serve you well, I will certainly need to reequip my bodyguard and myself, so the financial considerations will be appreciated, as long as it is clear that I am not simply a mercenary."
Considering the group, he wonders at what he is getting into, but sees that he clearly needs more of an education in the ways of the imperial nobility.
"If these mercenaries are willing to work with me, I have no objection to working with them, as long as they support the interests of the throne."
Laughing, Zeke pounds the arm of his chair. "And if they aren't, we'll still take the job. Their share of the loot as well!"
Ignoring Zeke, Marcianus continues, "If we are entering Your Lordship's employ in a more official capacity, will you be providing lodging and meals? Perhaps facilities for training and planning?"
Eradessa passes Cimri a smile so broad it clearly says, '150 gp a week?! YES! What a sucker!'
"A question, if I may: How long are you expecting to utilize our services? A month? A year? Or is it an off for the longterm future? A person of my heritage runs into certain problems staying one place too long, you see! As long as the job is open to negotiation on at least a yearly basis, I'm happy to be of service!"
Eradessa waits to ensure she's not selling her whole life away...
Wolfgang scowls at the big stranger's jibe but stays quiet for a few moments as he considers the Arhcbaron's unexpected offer to put the Miscreants on a salary.
We've made a Hell of a lot more than 150 crowns from Razelago in just the past few days. But he also said we could keep anything we find -- or "find" -- in the course of our duties as "agents of the imperial government." And if behaving like agents of the throne means behaving like most of the town guards and tax collectors I've seen in action...
This gig could pay very well indeed.
The tiefling coughs again into his sleeve. "Your Majesty's offer is very generous. Assuming at least some of our duties would involve, hmmmm, dealing with your subjects in public, would we just explain that we are your agents generally, or do you have specific roles in mind for us to fill?"
He pauses for a moment. This is gonna be awkward. If Nomed were here, I could count on him to do it for me, but since he isn't, I'd better bring it up myself.
"I mean, I couldn't help but notice that you seem to have a vacancy in your sheriff's office. A few vacancies, really..."
Sicaria looks to Marcianus with an arched eyebrow as he speaks. She then breaks eye contact and lets out an uncharacteristically high-pitched and warm giggle.
”’Mercenary’ has such a rough-and-tumble connotation to it, no? I much prefer ‘assassin’—an efficiency that compounds upon grace.”
She returns her gaze to the archbaron. ”Speaking of which, while I cannot speak for my compatriots, I cannot work for you exclusively—we of He Who Walks in Blood accept contracts from any willing to pay properly, regardless of race or social standing. While I admit that such contracts of mine are scarce due to my relative novice, I plan on changing that as soon as possible. Your offer is certainly promising, but you should be aware that as a mantis I cannot promise true exclusivity in exchange for doing the work of Achaekek,”
Sicaria grabs the wooden pendant at her chest and tucks it back under her armor and finally sits down in one of the chairs offered to her by Fex—all without moving her eyes from the mustachioed archbaron.
”But as a subject of Her Infernal Majestrix, I graciously accept, so long as it does not keep me from doing the work of the Mantis God.”
Sicaria’s scarred face grows a warm smile—a grin that simultaneously shoots a cold eeriness when taken in the context of the true work of her patron.
Smiling lightly at an offered puzzle, Marcianus awaits the Archbaron's response to his negotiation.
An assassin who announces to the entire world that she is an assassin? That seems unlikely. But, why make such an obvious lie?
Fex laughs humorlessly at the assassin's proclamation. "I am not hiring you for your exclusivity - I am offering to pay you for results." He taps his arm again as he addresses Eradessa. "I do not have a specific plan or timeframe in mind, but the word I have heard of this 'Angel Knight' is certainly concerning. If you are able to resolve that problem, then I would be open to renegotiating the contract. This discontent breeds chaos and suffering - without it, Longacre will settle once more into peace and prosperity, and I would foresee little use in applying your skills to the same problems."
"As far as lodging goes, I would suggest you find someplace close to town so as to be on hand should any trouble happen. Perhaps the jail would suit all of you well - or Razelago tells me you have been staying at the Ash House. Where exactly you stay does not concern me - nor do food or training. That is what your salary is for, no?" He gives Marcianus a long, meaningful stare.
"And I appreciate your concern for the enforcement of the law, Wolfgang, but I'm hardly in need of a new sherif at this time. My guards can handle an mundane issues that might come up and police the town as needed. Your talents are needed elsewhere, solving the problems others cannot. To that end, I can grant all of you emergency authority to do whatever must be done - but do not destroy the city or all the people within it. I would not like to remove this disturbance only to discover Longacre has also been ruined."
The archbaron stands. “There is one other matter to attend to. Queen Abrogail has decreed that in this time of national crisis, all agents of the crown must reaffirm their loyalty to their lord, House Thrune, and Cheliax by swearing the Hellfire Compact. If you’re to serve in the queen’s name, I must insist.” He walks around his desk and stands above the miscreants, awaiting their response.
"I am not hiring you for your exclusivity - I am offering to pay you for results."
”Of course, but better to be safe than in a misunderstanding.”
...the word I have heard of this 'Angel Knight' is certainly concerning.
Sicaria’s grin fades as her visage turns to a deep frown, but she says nothing.
“There is one other matter to attend to. Queen Abrogail has decreed that in this time of national crisis, all agents of the crown must reaffirm their loyalty to their lord, House Thrune, and Cheliax by swearing the Hellfire Compact. If you’re to serve in the queen’s name, I must insist.”
The human blinks several times as she processes the archbaron’s words.
”’National crisis’? ‘Hellfire Compact’? With all due respect, my lord, what in the devil are you talking about?”
"And I appreciate your concern for the enforcement of the law, Wolfgang, but I'm hardly in need of a new sherif at this time. My guards can handle an mundane issues that might come up and police the town as needed. Your talents are needed elsewhere, solving the problems others cannot. To that end, I can grant all of you emergency authority to do whatever must be done - but do not destroy the city or all the people within it. I would not like to remove this disturbance only to discover Longacre has also been ruined."
For a moment, Wolfgang's face droops in disappointment, until he picks up the import of the words emergency authority.
"I think I get it, Your Lordship. We have your authority to handle any threat posed by this 'Angel Knight' by any means necessary. Collateral damage is acceptable, short of something apocalyptic -- we are not authorized to destroy the village in order to 'save' it. Do I have that right? If so, well, let's see that contract."
"Surely you do not think this Angel Knight sprang from the soil, do you?" Archbaron Fex steeples his fingers. "They are but a symptom of a much larger infection - one that threatens to throw all the stability that people depend on in upheaval. That is why Her Infernal Majestrix seeks to destroy this weed at its source. But she needs a stable base to work from, hence the Hellfire Compact.
"As for the vow itself, you need not hold any foolish superstitions. There are no devils, deities, or even priests involved in the matter. To be honest, it is little more than a formality - but one that the queen has commanded must be observed. I have sworn it myself, if that makes you come to your senses."
"Now, let us take care of this formality and get one with our business." He crosses his arms again and observes, nodding as Wolfgang professes his eagerness.
Just what are the Iomedaeans doing?
Sicaria sits upright and looks Archbaron Fex straight in the eye.
”What must we do for this Hellfire Compact?”
"Your mortal vows mean little to me. Zeke will say your words."
Marcianus rolls his eyes. "Don't worry about him, Your Lordship. We are joined in purpose and I am devoted to Her Infernal Majestrix. I am ready to take on this Hellfire Compact."
As each of his guests agree one by one, the archbaron smiles. "Excellent. If you'll follow me..." He walks to one of the curtained alcoves and pulls back the drapes, revealing a golden stand gripping a chunk of black crystal that smolders like a gigantic, hellish ember. Fex turns, his face illuminated by a crimson glow that coats the room like blood.
"This stone is an ember drawn from the forges of Phlegethon, one of the layers of hell," he states shortly. "It is from the hellfire within that the Compact takes its name. There is pain in taking the vow, but it is not lasting. Place your hands on the ember - one at a time - and recite the following: 'I swear my absolute allegiance to Archbaron Darellus Fex, Her Infernal Majestrix Queen Abrogail II of the Thrice-Damned House of Thrune, and the Empire of Cheliax.'" He waits expectantly for the first to approach.
Marcianus smirks as he hears the vow they will take. Took a vow of absolute allegiance to himself, did he? Well, it is nothing that any lord doesn't demand of any of his vassals.
Conscious of the potential of some type of binding effect inherent in the stone, he approaches warily.
Gripping the stone, he winces. Regardless of any other effect, he begins speaking the words.
"I, Marcianus Jeggare, swear my absolute alegiance to Archbaron Darellus Fex, Her Infernal Majestrix Queen Abrogail II of the Thrice-Damned House of Thrune, and the Empire of Cheliax."
Sicaria stares earnestly at the ember of hellfire before her. She places her hands on the hilts of her swords for a moment as she watches the black crystal, her own hair flickering with the glow of the ember.
Achaekek be with me.
When Marcianus finishes, she steps up and takes her hands off of her hilts. The woman stares at the palms of her calloused hands.
Do it already!
She slams her hands onto the infernal ember, gritting her teeth from the pain as she tries to spit the words out before her tolerance for the pain gives out.
”I-I swear my absolute allegiance to A-Archbaron Darellus Fex, Her Infernal M-Majestrix Queen Abrogail II of the Th-Thrice-Damned House of Thrune, and the E-Empire of Cheliax!”
That's not quite what I expected.
Confident that his fiendish blood will protect him from any ordinary energy the stone from Hell could emit , Wolfgang steps up to take the oath without hesitation. As he starts to reach out to rest his hand on the ember, though, he pauses, sensing a different kind of energy radiating from it.
You're imagining things. And even if you aren't, it's too late to back out now. For once in your worthless life, don't be such a damned coward!
Gingerly, he rests his hand on the stone, and recites the oath as quickly as possible through clenched teeth. "I-swear-my-absolute-allegiance-to-Archbaron-Darellus-Fex-Her-Infernal-Maje strix-Queen-Abrogail-II-of-the-Thrice-Damned-House-of-Thrune, and-the-Empire-of-Cheliax."
Eradessa reaches out and grasps the ember, seemingly without worry -- promises were meant for breaking, after all. Magically binding or not, she was certain she could find a way out of it when the time came.
"I swear my absolute allegiance to Archbaron Darellus Fex, Her Infernal Majestrix Queen Abrogail II of the Thrice-Damned House of Thrune, and the Empire of Cheliax."
Cimri follows suit, her eyes darting nervously before placing her hands on the ember. "I swear my absolute allegiance to Archbaron Darellus Fex, Her Infernal Majestrix Queen Abrogail II of the Thrice-Damned House of Thrune, and the Empire of Cheliax."
As each miscreant touches the ember, the crystal glows brighter and unholy flames wash over them. As the hellfire fades, it leaves a scar in the shape of the Chelaxian circle-and-cross upon each of them - Marcianus on his neck, Sicaria on the back of her left hand, Wolfgang just below his collarbone, Eradessa on her left forearm, and Cimri on her right palm.
As the ember fades back to a dull red glow, a thin familiar voice drifts from behind another curtained alcove on the opposite side of the room. "I told you they'd be up to the vow," it wheezes. "Which is good, considering what I've just uncovered."
The archbaron shakes his head and strides across the room. "There's no need for your theatrics anymore, Razelago," he answers impatiently, pulling back the thick black curtain.
Inside the alcove, a writing desk heaped with pages stands next to an empty stool. Clinging to the desk, almost unbalancing it, is a bloated fly's abdomen of monstrous proportions from which sprouts the chubby upper body of a human infant. A neck hidden by fatty folds swivels, and a pair of black, compound eyes squint against the light. Insectile mouthparts flex enthusiastically between pudgy lips as Razelago's voice emerges. "As you say, My Lord."
Sicaria inspects the circle-and-cross on the back of her hand. She is barely comprehending the words being said before the archbaron pulls aside the curtain.
The human sees the creature behind curtain #1 and her instincts immediately kick in as she draws both of her jagged swords and starts to close the distance.
Insectile mouthparts flex enthusiastically between pudgy lips as Razelago's voice emerges. "As you say, My Lord."
Sicaria stops dead in her tracks as she stares at the disgusting monstrosity before her in shock.
”Razelago?”
She lowers her blades slightly, still keeping a white-knuckled grip on the hilts without even consciously realizing it. She blinks several times, trying to comprehend the abomination before her but simultaneously trying to avoid looking at its vile form. She glances at Cimri at one point with concern in her eyes, as if to say Did you know about this?, then around at the other miscreants, then the archbaron, then back at the...thing before her.
The assassin tries to speak, but her whirlwind of thoughts and emotions cannot settle long enough to form anything until she finally whispers ”W-What...are you?”
Anyone who pays attention can tell that Marcianus appeared to be in pain as he gripped the stone, but the flames themselves did not seem to cause as much distress and he doesn't notice the brand until it is pointed out to him.
He looks curiously at the other's matching marks and asks the Archbaron. "The brand itself is not unwelcome, but if the need comes to pose as something other than an imperial servant, the marks will make that somewhat difficult.
I hope there is no problem with wearing a scarf to cover the mark in that curcumstance, My Lord."
As the Archbaron reveals the creature behind the curtain, Marcianus lifts an eyebrow but is otherwise unconcerned. He remembers a description of something with parts of a baby and an insect, but must not have been paying attention in class that day.
Knowing a bit about the Archbaron, he assumes the creature is a devil of some kind, sniffing at Sicaria as she wears her ignorance openly rather than hiding that lack.
"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Razelago. What is it that you have learned? Something about this Angel Knight?"
Eradessa waggles her finger at Razelgo with a dimpled grin. "Aren't you a sneaky zebub!" She giggles, then raises her eyebrows. "Why did you hide your identity from us? Afraid we're squeamish?"
"The brand itself is not unwelcome, but if the need comes to pose as something other than an imperial servant, the marks will make that somewhat difficult. I hope there is no problem with wearing a scarf to cover the mark in that circumstance, My Lord."
"The mark will fade with time," the archbaron answers unconcernedly. "You may do as you see fit in the meantime."
”W-What...are you?”
"Like your friend said, I am a zebub." The mandibles on Razelago's face flex as his thin voice issues forth, but their rhythm does not quite match his words. "Though I believe mortals more commonly refer to my kind as accuser devils. As for the subterfuge, consider it a necessary precaution. Mortals tend to either attack on sight or run screaming to the nearest church at the sight of something beyond their understanding. Regardless, I would urge you to set aside the prejudices of superstition - or Iomedaean slander - and form your opinion of me based on your own experiences."
The archbaron interjects, "Razelago is a loyal servant of mine - one who helps see to the many covert needs necessary to manage Longacre efficiently. I trust your continued working with him will not be an issue."
"Which, as I was saying, is a good thing considering what I've found out." Razelago pulls himself up onto the desk, which ceases to look as if it will topple from the devil's weight. “This Angel Knight doesn’t appear to be just some fiction concocted by an overzealous priestess. A talentless local minstrel named Riley Kels claims to have met her, and has even composed a series of ballads in her honor. While the amateur’s singing is crime enough, he's performing these songs at The Last Stand Tavern tonight - which incidentally breaks the new curfew and sanctions against gathering.
“If it pleases Your Lordship, our friends here should arrest The Last Stand’s owner, Bolgart Caggan, for defying the new law. I suggest pillorying him in front of the jail as an example to others. Additionally, see what you can find out about the Angel Knight from Kels.”
The archbaron frowns. "That may be," he responds slowly, "but a minstrel cannot sing all night. This Kels has likely retired for the evening at this hour. If they arrest Caggan tonight, we will likely lose our chance to learn more. Perhaps tomorrow evening would be a better choice."
"As you say, My Lord." Razelago's facial expressions are difficult to read, but his voice holds no malice nor excitement. His black multifaceted eyes turn back to the miscreants. "Perhaps we can help clarify things?"
"A minstrel composing ballads? Seems he has a high opinion of himself. Probably considers himself to be some kind of bard.
That should make him more likely to talk. A little flattery, a few drinks, and he should be accommodating, especially for a potential benefactor."
Marcianus smiles to himself, imagining the scene and making himself useful by duping the minstrel into revealing closely held information.
"Listening to the ballads should also be revealing. There are probably nuggets of truth that may reveal much in the lyrics. If both of those approaches fail, I'm sure he will be more talkative once we start breaking his fingers."
Returning to his chair, Marcianus tries to think of the best way to introduce himself to the minstrel. "Is this Kels staying at The Last Stand? Popping in for a late lunch tomorrow could prove enlightening."
When Razelago's true form is revealed, Wolfgang blinks and takes a step back in surprise.
Whatever I thought was going on with him, I was really, really wrong.
After a moment, the tiefling forces himself to relax his shoulders and smile, although his twitching tail suggests that he is still agitated (the fevered sweat beading on his forehead is no worse than usual).
"Right, no problem here, boss... I mean, your Highness. If the songbird is staying somewhere we can get at him tonight, maybe we should just grab him and bring him someplace where we can question him at leisure? I'd rather take him alone than try to drag him out of a bar full of angry townies. As for that a+%+@%+ Caggan, I think we'd all be happy to put him in the stocks. Do we need any more evidence of his treachery than we already have? Razelago says he and his customers violated your curfew, and he already attacked Sicaria this afternoon. Why not take care of him first thing in the morning, or even tonight? As it happens, I have the key to the pillory on me." Wolfgang pats a pocket beneath his cloak.
Furrowing his eyebrows, Marcianus responds to Wolfgang's statements. "You've had dealings with this tavern owner already? That certainly would complicate any attempt to talk with this minstrel subtly. Still, neither of them know who I am, so it might still be possible."
Regardless, I would urge you to set aside the prejudices of superstition - or Iomedaean slander - and form your opinion of me based on your own experiences.
The human’s face turns pink as she quickly glances down at the swords in her hands and quickly sheathe them. She folds her arms and looks off, trying not to meet Razelago’s compound eyes that makes her skin crawl.
”I supposed that’s a fair point...”
Sicaria stands in silence as she listens to the devil’s findings. When he mentions Caggen a smug smirk spreads across her face. What I wouldn’t give to see that man in the stocks.
Furrowing his eyebrows, Marcianus responds to Wolfgang's statements. "You've had dealings with this tavern owner already? That certainly would complicate any attempt to talk with this minstrel subtly. Still, neither of them know who I am, so it might still be possible."
Sicaria scratches behind her earlobe and looks to find a pea-sized blob of chili stuck between her fingernails and flicks it away.
”Mark, was it? Let’s just say that I got a bit too acquainted with the man’s cooking.”
She turns back to the Archbaron. ”You said this Angel Knight was part of a larger ‘infection.’ Now that we have undergone the Hellfire Compact, perhaps you could expand on that?”
"Is this Kels staying at The Last Stand? Popping in for a late lunch tomorrow could prove enlightening."
"Unless he wants to sleep on the floor with the spilled drinks, I doubt it." Razelago's voice is neutral as he states the facts.
The archbaron's voice is more nuanced. "And he has done nothing illegal that we know of. You represent myself, the Crown, and the rule of law."
"Razelago says he and his customers violated your curfew, and he already attacked Sicaria this afternoon. Why not take care of him first thing in the morning, or even tonight?"
"If Caggan disappears overnight, there will be cries of foul play, and the seeds of rebellion will grow even stronger as the townsfolk spread tales of his innocence. Catch him publicly in the act of defying my decrees, and you cut those weeds off at their source." Fex makes a slashing motion with his hand for emphasis.
"And if you arrest only Kels or Caggan, the other will likely disappear," Razelago chimes in. "Swooping in tomorrow night is the best chance to catch both."
”You said this Angel Knight was part of a larger ‘infection.’ Now that we have undergone the Hellfire Compact, perhaps you could expand on that?”
The archbaron frowns. "Some young fools seek to overthrow the rule of law in Cheliax. They call themselves the 'Glorious Reclamation' or some other Iomedaean nonsense." Fex waves a hand dismissively. "Perhaps they mean well, but they do not realize that their rebellion will only end up helping a few people for a short time, and hurt a great deal more in the resulting chaos and confusion that comes from defying the rightful rule of law. I do not wish to deal with their immaturity here."
The archabaron turns to look out the large windows once more, though little can be seen outside through the dark of night. "Now, it is getting late. Should you need to contact me, you may do so through Razelago. You can find him at the Ash House, I believe." Fex waits for the zebub to nod before continuing, "And I would ask that when you are acting in an official capacity, you wear the sashes provided. Remind the people who governs here and who their allegiance is bound to." He pulls on a black-tasseled rope, and the butler appears as if by magic at the doorway.
"This way, sirs," the halfling says with a bow. He escorts the miscreants out of the manor, and a guard points them back down the road that leads from the estate to Longacre.
Cimri speaks up on the walk back. "So... Marcianus, was it? What brings you to this lovely pastoral village?" She beckons widely with her arm at the muddy road and thin mist filling the chill night air. "You and your... partner look more suited to riding around in carriages than walking." She pointedly does not look at Zeke as she addresses the whole group. "And how do we want to do this tomorrow? Loud or quiet?"
Marcianus glances at Cimri warily. Always good to remember who I am working with now. Those knives look sharp and Zeke won't be protecting me while I sleep. Best to make a good impression.
Looking over the rest of the party, his eye narrow a bit. Goes for the rest of them as well. The gnome seems the only affable one, which likely makes her the most dangerous in this group.
Marcianus puts on a diplomatic smile. "Carriages have their benefit when making an impression is needed, but the expense and bother of the logistics required to keep the drivers paid, horses fed, and wheels repaired is hardly worth it on a daily basis.
We took a carriage here, naturally, but it has returned to the family estates. A bit of discomfort..." Marcianus glances at the mud on his boots with a grimace ...will not kill me.
Politically avoiding the initial question, he engages the group as a while. "How about the rest of you? Have you been working together for long?"
"Nope!" Eradessa replies readily with a dimpled grin. "I've only known these delightful freaks a day or two. But, I've know Cimri there for ages." She waggles her eyebrows at Cimri, clearly teasing her friend.
Eradessa turns, walking backwards down the muddy road as she eyes up the newcomers.
"Well, aren't you two a handsome pair! Are you together? Or is this thing you've got going on here strictly professional? Enquiring minds, you know!" She waits for an answer, seeming genuinely curious. Eventually she lets out a whistle. "Yup! WAAAAAAY nicer scenery around here than I've seen in a long while. I think I'm gonna walk at the back for a bit. Take it at a leisurely pace. Short legs and all." Eradessa pauses, letting everyone get in front of her, then walks at the back of the group, doubtlessly examining the new pair's backsides.
"So, are you still single, Cimri? I didn't notice a ring."
If her friend meets her eye, Eradessa gestures at Zeke and nods, clearly giving Cimri an encouraging 'Go on! Give that one a try!'
As the rainbow-haired gnome moves to the back of the group, Sicaria gives Eradessa a solid knock on the top of her head. ”That’s for being nosy.” And a second one. ”And that’s for calling me a freak.”
The human then looks at Cimri with a single raised eyebrow. This is the first I’ve heard about you and Sunshine’s friendship, Cimri.
Sicaria places both of her hands on the back of her head as she walks. ”I haven’t known these guys very long, but they’re reliable as long as someone’s keeping them in line—by which I mean Razelago, and I guess Archbaron Fex now. I suppose if we’re gonna be working together we might as well get acquainted: Name’s Sicaria—hit on me and I hit you. The mass of anxiety is Wolfgang. The gothic lolita ball of sunshine is Eradessa. And,” Sicaria stops for a moment then laughs out loud. ”You know, I was gonna insult ya a bit in the introduction, Cimri, but unlike these two I actually kinda like you.”
The redhead’s scarred face grows slightly stern. ”We really should discuss our game plan for what to do at the Last Stand tomorrow, but today’s been a long day, and I’m ready to just hit the hay.” Sicaria chuckles to herself. ”That rhymed. Funny how things work out.”
Zeke bellows laughter. "Ho! Mark, the gnome is a lively one.", as he elbows Marcianus - nearly knocking him over. "You know, gnomes don't age like humans. She could be a hundred years old, with all that accumulated experience. Quite an education for a young man."
He laughs louder as he looks at Marcianus' scandalized expression, and somehow manages to flex the muscles in his back and legs without slowing his pace.
Eradessa grins up at Sicaria. "You take offence to freak? And here I was, trying to be generous." Eradessa looks at Zeke and winks, "She's definitely not delightful."
At Zeke's words Eradessa laughs. "Oh, you're a clever one!" she exclaims, admiring the muscular man's strut. "You and I are going to be fast friends. I can tell! So? How'd you meet the Lordling, here?"
Catching his balance, Marcianus glares at Zeke. He maintains a cordial tone as he replies, "We are most certainly together, though not in the way you imply Eradessa. Zeke is my bodyguard, as I mentioned earlier, and a loud-mouthed braggart who often interrupts my conversations."
He nods thankfully as Sicaria performs the introductions, then inclines his head in acknowledgement to each of the party as they are introduced.
"...and I am Marcianus Jeggare. No title is necessary, you may refer to me as Marcianus.
Yes, Sicaria, I believe that the morning will be a good enough time to discuss plans. The archbaron mentioned that you are all staying at The Ash House, is that correct? Let's head there so I can arrange a room myself.
Does anyone know if there are other lodging establishments in town? It would be good to know where this minstrel is staying."