The man saw the look in Petronia's eyes and started to panic. He started to scream in Ulfen at the top of his lungs. "Hjälp! Hjälp! Denna galna tik försöker döda mig! Stadsvakt! Hjälp!"
Petronia doesn't understand the local language but she did recognize one word, Stadsvakt. "Oh shut up!" she growls. "I'm an unarmed southerner. Clearly I'm no threat and you don't need to cry for the authorities."
"That'd be more of them, and of us," Matheus replied distractedly, wondering how in Limbo someone had managed to drag the heavy-as-sin chest away from literally touching distance without either him or Kazmir noticing. Granted, they had been just a little bit distracted, but this much...?
"And it seems they did rob us. These marks? Someone carried away a chest we were oathsworn to protect, and did it while we were fighting for our lives," he went on. "If you want to ask us questions, how about do them while on the move? For we have to give chase to whoever took what was trusted under our care."
Fail
At the back of the building, two guards came from the rear alley at a run. Seeing the Petronia sitting on the thug, they stopped and levelled spears. The prisoner began immediately shouting in Ulfen, and was answered angrily by one of the guards. Petronia recognized the voice, and realized that it was the woman they'd spoken to at the Stadsvakt Headquarters.
Her voice sounding a bit weary, she said, "You again? Why am I not surprised? Come on, up now. We've got this."
At the front, a second pair of guards arrived as well. One of the original guards lowered his spear and came forward, examining the drag marks. "Stay here," he commanded Matheus and Kazmir, and moved quickly into the alley, following the trail.
An old man approached the 2nd original guard, complaining. "He almost shook the street down! He's a terrorist from Irrisen! Look at the foreigners he's conspiring with. Arrest them! Kill them!"
Kazmir growls, "We don't have time for this Matheus. I'm going after this chest, I certainly don't trust some local to find it."
He eyes the guards standing near him, easily able to hear. "Get out of my way or you'll never arrest anyone again."
An old man approached the 2nd original guard, complaining. "He almost shook the street down! He's a terrorist from Irrisen! Look at the foreigners he's conspiring with. Arrest them! Kill them!"
Ner played a game where he pretended to be a stone ... a stone that could watch how Petronia was doing ... in his mind this made a lot of sense.
Petronia kept her hands in view, making it obvious to the authorities that she was unarmed. Addressing the woman who's voice she recognized she said, "I would like to press charges against this man. He attacked us for no reason and he threatened my friend. It's only by luck that I was able to subdue him. You will take him into custody, yes?"
Rafarta removed her helm, hanging it from a purpose made hook on her belt. "I'll take all of you in, until we get this sorted out. Come on, stand up. Nobody's running."
Another pair of guards arrived, bringing the total to four at the front and four at the back. Taking Petronia and the slightly squashed Ulfen by the arms, the guards walked them around to the front of the building to meet up with the others.
Meanwhile, in the street, the three remaining guards had reacted to Kazmir's clear threat, even if they didn't understand the exact words. The dwarf found three spears levelled at him. However, before he could escalate the situation, there was a cry of pain from the narrow alley. A moment later, the guard came out holding the girl that Ner had seen by one arm, and dragging the chest easily with the other hand.
As Rafarta came around the Petronia and the only living ruffian, she spoke quickly to the other guards in Ulfen. A moment later they lowered spears, but kept sharp eyes on the dwarf.
"You three, stand together and don't do anything stupid. Wait, three? Weren't there four of you? Where's the little one?" Rafarta said to the Pathfinders. "We'll take your statements, and the witnesses. Please, just don't make things worse."
Petronia slowly gets to her feet, making sure a few more elbows and knees grind into the Ulfen she's sitting on as she does so. As the guards reach for her, her eyes narrow and her voice takes on a warning rumble that kind of sounded like a growl. "Do you always lay hands on the victim?"
When Rafarta asked about Ner, Petronia shrugged and pointed at the man she had been sitting on. "He threatened harm against him so he's probably hiding. You can't really blame him. If I were him, I'd stay in hiding too. The streets of your town are obviously unsafe."
Petronia hoped that Ner could hear her and take the hint that he was supposed to stay hidden wherever he was. There was no point in him being detained as well.
Ner winked back at Petronia ... which was completely useless as he couldn't be seen.
Meanwhile, in the street, the three remaining guards had reacted to Kazmir's clear threat, even if they didn't understand the exact words. The dwarf found three spears levelled at him. However, before he could escalate the situation, there was a cry of pain from the narrow alley. A moment later, the guard came out holding the girl that Ner had seen by one arm, and dragging the chest easily with the other hand.
"You found it! Thank the spirits," Matheus sighed in relief, taking careful note on just how easily this guard moved the chest. Either the thief had used some magic to lighten the load, or this particular specimen of Ulfen was formidable almost beyond belief.
"You three, stand together and don't do anything stupid. Wait, three? Weren't there four of you? Where's the little one?" Rafarta said to the Pathfinders. "We'll take your statements, and the witnesses. Please, just don't make things worse."
"Aye, stand down, Kazmir, please," the druid pleaded, now that the chest had been secured for them and there was no more reason for the dwarf to go hunt the one who stole it. "There has been quite enough excitement already. I'm sorry about the damages to the alley my spell wrought, and will gladly pay a fine, but to our defense I have to say we did what we did to protect our lives and possessions."
What followed was a long hour of questions and answers. The Stadsvakt soldiers were thorough, and questioned the remaining living thief, the girl, all the bystanders, and the Pathfinders. Several of the townsfolk were openly hostile, especially after overhearing Rafarta call them Pathfinders. Many, however, seemed sympathetic, and overall the story that came out was pretty close to true.
Finally, the ordeal seemed to be over. The Stadsvakt handcuffed the criminal and the girl, and took them back to headquarters. Rafarta approached the Pathfinders and said, "We're allowing you to leave, but this is the last time. If you find yourself in trouble again during your stay, you'll find yourself behind bars. Our engineer will assess the damage in the morning, and we'll come to your inn to collect the cost of repairs. I'm putting my reputation on the line for you, so I trust you'll keep your word and be good for the money."
"I'm sympathetic, I truly am, but the safety and security of our citizens is my first priority. So keep your heads down, and in the name of Peace, leave that bloody chest somewhere safe!"
The sun had vanished behind clouds a while ago, and the bitter wind was picking up. A storm was on the way, and it would soon be dark.
Petronia looks at Rafarta and jerks her head at the criminal and girl that are being led away, "So who do they work for? You have to know, right? It would be easier for us to stay out of trouble if we know who we should avoid."
Once Rafarta leaves, the brawler states the obvious, "We should get back to the inn before the weather turns. I don't want to be stuck out in a snowstorm. And...I think we need to seriously consider opening the chest so we can decide how to proceed."
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Ner watched as Petronia was led away. He waited until the soldiers had taken her around the corner to the others and then, with the progress of a skittish hamster, he skirted the building.
They have all of them! I'm alone?? Ner knew it was his time, the team was depending on him to find a way to get them free!
He moved from alley to alley, watching mindfully for the bigguns windows ... curtains need only be drawn a hairs width for some ulfen to be able to watch the streetfront! And if he gets caught ... all would be lost!!
With the silence of a dream's shadow he persued and, sure enough, Matheus, Petronia, and Kazmir, were hauled into the guard's buildings with no more special care then their would be assassins. Ner parked himself in the horse lea, the small over-reaching roof where mounts might be tied, across the street. He thought hard and long what to do.
Wait until the guards thinned out and sneak in? ... Waylay a soldier and steal their keys? ... start a fire as a distraction and use the chaos to free his friends?? OF COURSE! IT'S SO SIMPLE! Ner worked his way across the street with flint in hand and, taking out a bit of cloth to lay at the front door, he grinned at his own genius.
When the door opened and his friends walked out he quickly hid his hands behind his back. Suddenly, he remembered to smile. Before anyone could ask a question ... "Nothin'"
"We're allowing you to leave, but this is the last time. If you find yourself in trouble again during your stay, you'll find yourself behind bars. Our engineer will assess the damage in the morning, and we'll come to your inn to collect the cost of repairs. I'm putting my reputation on the line for you, so I trust you'll keep your word and be good for the money."
”Well, we can’t swear that trouble won’t find us ever again, but we do try not to court it,” Matheus replied. ”But as for compensation for the damages caused by us defending ourselves, that you will have, on my word and honor. In fact, if you would prefer, I can give you gold right now as a guarantee.”
Once Rafarta leaves, the brawler states the obvious, "We should get back to the inn before the weather turns. I don't want to be stuck out in a snowstorm. And...I think we need to seriously consider opening the chest so we can decide how to proceed."
”Agreed on both counts… this damn anchor is drawing way too much attention, and not of the good kind,” Matheus said, once again carrying the chest. ”Besides, whatever is inside might, might, help point us in the right direction. Failing that, paying a visit to that local crime lordling who got his fingers burned seems to be the only other option, and I don’t want to drag this damn thing there with us.”
The wind is blowing hard and the snow starts to fall with a vengeance. The Pathfinders get turned around a few times on the way back to the inn, and it's a full blizzard by the time they get there. The common room is packed with locals, warming up and sharing company in the storm.
The delicious smells permeating the common room causes Petronia's stomach to rumble loudly to remind her that she hasn't eaten recently.
She wants to stay to eat and drink but the chest is a constant reminder that business had to supercede any personal indulgence. She grumpily stomps towards the stairs, "The sooner we figure out this stupid chest, the sooner I can eat."
No sooner did they return to the room then Ner was on the chest giving it a maddening examination. What if I knocked the pins out of the hinges and opened it from the back? The strange assistant in Absalom said it contained papers?? and people who hid papers could be spiteful. The opening of the chest could soak anything important in a vinegar bath ... or ink ... or acid. He got his tools out and some chalk. powder the chalk and every little crack will show. He knelt next to the chest and smelled for vinegar. The snow that had gathered on him outside created a puddle on the floor. He bent really low and assembled a little refector, candle and mirror and took a look at the lock ... and ... and ... sat back. He said he wouldn't. He looked up at his traveling companions like a wide eyed waif.
Petronia watches Ner with amusement. Obviously the halfling has forgotten that they had been given a key to the chest. Finally when he looks up at them with wide, pleading eyes she can't take it anymore.
Holding out the key she grins and says, "Just open it already. I'm done pussyfooting around this chest."
Ner looked at the key in Petronia's hand and was blank faced for three beats then his eyebrows went up in a sudden show of recognition. Then he started shaking, his hands waving a bit, as the second most obvious thought finally came to him - Just open it already? We can open it now? Ner popped up and grabbed the key thoughtlessly then took a final look at the lock mechanism.
He placed the key in the lock and, feeling the mechanical movements through the key with his finger tips, he turned it. Then he pulled a thin strip of wire from his clothes. Opening the chest just enough to slip the wire in. Ner ran the wire along the thinnest of openings and felt for the slightest resistance of a thread, needle or pin. He stepped to the side of the chest so that he wasn't directly in front ... looked up, waited for the team to take a step back ... and then ... slowly ... opened ... the lid.
The chest opens without any fuss or bother. Inside, the chest is stuffed to the top with papers, books and scrolls. They've been rather shuffled about during the journey, with scrolls sprung open and books with bent pages. Many of them look very old, with cracked bindings and fading ink. On a quick look, it seems to be what you were originally told it was. Documents about history, trade, ruling lines, old maps, etc. They're written in a variety of languages, some of which you don't recognize.
It seems certain that if the thieves had discovered this, they'd be mighty disappointed. However, it's clear that much of the information in here is sensitive, and in the wrong political hands, it could create problems that the Pathfinders don't have the expertise to anticipate.
Ner looked at the pile of papers and without looking up ... "I dongetit"
"So much for instant revelations," Matheus sighed, rising back to his feet and peering into the opened chest - he had been crouching behind the solid bulk of Kazmir and his heavy armor, just in case the chest had surprises awaiting anyone who tried to open it, key or no key. ”There might still be answers useful for us… but going through this mountain of documents would take days if not weeks.”
”So, back to planning… the only real clue left was this local crime lord whose men had got burned when they were trying to rough up this Runa woman, yes? That kind of slight would not be easy for a man like that to accept and he might have tried to track her down to even the scores with her. And he might be willing to share the information, if he thought we would cause her trouble. Or he might not – who can tell how a slighted crime lord thinks?”
Petronia lets out a curse, "Me neither, Ner."
She sighs, "At least now we don't have to carry it around. Most people wouldn't know what to do with a bunch of paper if they took it and carrying it around just makes everyone think it's filled with something valuable."
The brawler gets to her feet, "So, shall we go have a chat with this Graal? Or maybe go check out that tavern in Charcoal Valley?"
There is little enough to do other than eat, drink, and wait out the blizzard. After locking the chest and hiding it, they decide to head back down to the common room for the evening.
The wind died down close to dawn, though the snow continued to fall, thick and heavy through the morning. Some of the main routes through town were cleared by teams of oxen, dragging snow-movers through the streets. However, the small streets and alleys were all over half a meter deep of soft snow.
Petronia was disheartened to see that the blizzard would keep them from any further 'questioning' that night.
When Matheus starts to organize the papers from the chest, she groans. "If we're going to be doing that then I need a drink." She looks at stack after stack, "Or five. I think five should make this task bearable. I'll go see if we can have them sent up to the room. Anyone else want anything?"
Ner assisted Matheus in organizing papers but really driven by the need to see the bottom of the chest It can't all just be papers can it??? When he realized all of the papers had to go back in AND neatly, his face went blank for a bit. He gave in though and did his best to mimic Matheus' filing habit ... which he was good at when he had a direct example to copy Ner is always helping. That's what makes Ner an important part of the team, he thought in third person.
The evening was long. Food and drinks were had, papers were sorted, and only a little gravy and ale made its way onto the documents. The wind howled around the inn like an army of lost souls, but inside they were snug and warm.
Disappointingly, the chest held no secret panels or other surprises. They did find a letter to Skagni, which was short, and explained that these were what they were able to pull together in a short time frame, and telling him to be careful with them as some were originals and irreplaceable. On the back of the note was inventory, and it matched what they found inside.
"Or five. I think five should make this task bearable. I'll go see if we can have them sent up to the room. Anyone else want anything?"
”I could use a snack after all that excitement and violence,” Matheus said, his expression brightening immediately. ”Perhaps an assortment of sausages? And some bread to go with them, perhaps a wedge of cheese we well? And a tankard of beer to wash it down, if you please.” It had been a moment since he had sampled the wares in the market, and it'd take the rest of the evening to go through the piles of documents, even those that he could actually read.
Morning came far too quickly after an evening of eating and drinking, and yes, organizing.
Petronia wipes sleep from her eyes and groans as she can see that it's still snowing outside. "I guess I'll be able to make use of my snowshoes today," she mutters.
Knowing the contents of the chest makes it much easier for the group to leave the chest behind in the safety of their locked room. Anyone going through the trouble of breaking into their room would be mighty disappointed with the contents.
They make their way downstairs for a hearty breakfast before braving the cold and snow. Equipped with the appropriate gear, Petronia actually finds the snow somewhat pretty. It definitely had a way of making everything look cleaner as the snow blanketed whatever mess was beneath. She was also surprised at how much of a difference the snowshoes made. It took a bit for her to adjust her gait to accommodate the larger size but soon she is making good headway.
A few inquiries at breakfast gave them the directions they needed to find the Charcoal Market. It wasn't difficult at all to find as they walked to the southern part of Trollheim. The fact that they had to stick to the main streets also went a long way to keep them from getting lost as all the side streets were blocked by at least three feet of snow, much more snow than Petronia was willing to wade through.
The brawler could hear their destination before she could see it. It would seem that the residents of Trollheim would not be put off by a little snow and cold because she could hear the sounds of a busy market ahead. Hopefully it would be easy enough to find the Tavern they were looking for.
I'll need some diplomacy rolls. Also, how are Ner and Kazmir getting around on the snow?
The thick canine like pads on the soles of Ner's feet melted the snow beneath them to a slightly glassy surface. He could never quite get used to shoes and snowshoes were twice the folly ... but he wished he had a pair now. He thought briefly about clambering up on the Druid's back but doubted the extra weight would go unnoticed. Devil's ride on fiddlesticks - deep snow might as well be quicksand. He kept to the shovelled paths and wondered how Matheus did it, watching the man's step as if he could discover some secret technique.
When they all arrived at the market he made sure to stand beside Matheus and use his best beggar's face adding "Oh, yes please(es) and and Thank-you(s) ever-so-much" wherever he thought appropriate.
Matheus whistled happily as he walked along the streets, one hand balancing the heavy chest once again made more manageable to carry by a quick little spell, and the other holding a lidded flagon of hot cider he had bought from their inn to "keep the chill from his bones"... a claim made less believable by his still-shirtless attire and seeming indifference to the temperature. He was also improbably light on his feet, seeming to almost float in the air as his heavy boots refused to sink into the snow covering the streets, despite his bulk and the weight of the chest.
"Dwarf town, they said this was," the druid rumbled amiably, taking in the sights and sounds of the waking town. "Not so much miners here anymore, apparently, but my nose tells me," he sniffed the air, the sighed in pleasure, "that there's meat being smoked, and bread being baked. Perhaps we can stop by a bakery on the way back? I hear the meat pies are to die for."
The market in Charcoal Valley is a whole different level of chaos compared to the one they'd visited yesterday. The stalls, shacks and carts are piled nearly atop each other, and the vendors shout at each other as much as they try to entice shoppers to buy their wares. Beggars and urchins are constantly underfoot, looking for handouts or an unwatched purses or pockets.
A frozen-looking gnome with a tattered parka pulls at Matheus's sleeve. "Spare a silver for a hot grog, sirrah?"
A frozen-looking gnome with a tattered parka pulls at Matheus's sleeve. "Spare a silver for a hot grog, sirrah?"
"Not a day to be without something hot in your belly, you got that right, friend," Matheus agreed. "Actually, we were seeking a tavern to break our fast, but do not know our way here. Tell you what; you show us to a watering hole where a man can enjoy a pint or two without the guards barging in to ask what he did the previous night and I'll make sure you won't go thirsty for the rest of the day. What say you?"
The gnome rubbed his thin woolen gloved hands together eagerly. "Yes, yes, of course, sirrah! Many places to break your fast here, yes there is. Come this way," he began tugging Matheus's sleeve, pulling them towards a gap in the crowds. "The Ice Swan is the perfect place, not fancy, not rough, wonderful gruel, real raisin in it!"
The Pathfinders were drawing a lot of looks both due to Matheus's bared chest, and the huge chest he carried. As they reached the edge of the market, Kazmir said, "Too many eyes here, too much greed. We'll be fighting for this chest again before long if we keep lugging it about. I'll take it back to the hotel and sit on it."
Ahead is a rough timber building, an actual ice sculpture of a swan standing outside, cleared of snow.
Petronia observes the exchange between Matheus and the gnome with skepticism, "That gnome sure has Matheus' number," she murmurs.
When Kazmir goes to take the chest back, she reluctantly agrees. "It does make the most sense and if anyone can protect it on their own, it's you." Actually, I'd do better but sitting with a chest alone in a room would be soooo boring. Better you than me.
The brawler sends the dwarven warrior on his way with a slap on the back. She then moves towards The Ice Swan with the others. She glances at the sculpture before opening the door, "I wonder what they do in summer. It can't be cold enough for ice to not melt in the summer here, can it?"
Ner waved at Kazmir but only just after the dwarf had already started walking away so the gesture was missed. Following Petronia into The Ice Swan, the scrawny halfling was distracted as he looked back, eyes following Kazmir for as long as the old trudger could be seen or until the door closed behind.
-
Ner was sad faced until he turned about and his instincts prodded him to take a good look at the room ... and count the exits. He kept close to his friend, accidentally trodding on her heel once.
”Raisins, eh? That does sound good about now,” Matheus agreed, hoping this Ice Swan would prove out to be the right establishment. And if it didn’t… well, they’d just have to try the next one, and the next after that, until they would the place they were looking for. ”Lead the way, friend!”
The inside of the Ice Swan was very plain; rough plank tables and benches, cheap smokey candles, and as promised by their guide, lots of gruel. In fact, it seemed that gruel, watery beer, and burned bread were the only things on the menu. Only a few patrons sat at tables, and they looked suspiciously at the newcomers before turning their attention back to their gruel.
"This place looks nice!" Ner exclaimed with slightly awkward loudness like he just remembered that this is what polite people say.
Petronia snorts, "Nice, right. That's exactly what I was thinking." She moves to a table and plops herself down. She looks up at Matheus, "This better be worth it."
"A meal is always worth it," the druid rumbled jovially, giving their gnome guide a handful of coppers and asked him to order for them, knowing he would most likely take the opportunity to pocket some of the change. But that’d keep him occupied for a few moments, and give them a little privacy.
”Problem is, we never got the name of the tavern, only the district, and the fact the place wasn’t the best and the neatest of the lot,” he murmured, once the gnome was briefly out of earshot. ”So unless you have a better idea, we’ll just have to sample the places one at a time, and hope we can find someone to confirm the recruiting took place there, or that the patrons or proprietors react to the descriptions.”
You are soon served a bowl of gruel, bland but thick and piping hot, and as promised, it's sprinkled with a few raisins. The barmaid returns a moment later with watery beer, then hustles quickly back into the kitchen.
As the gnome shovels steaming gruel into his mouth, he asks, "So, where are you lot from? Did you come here on purpose? I bet you didn't expect it to be this cold. I sure didn't. Tough to get out once you're here. Can't walk too far, that's for sure. Are you staying long?" He took a break from his food and questions to down his cup of ale, upon which he promptly choked. This turned into an extended coughing fit, from which he looked exhausted by the time he recovered. Scooping up the last of his food, he grinned and said, "Good, innit?"
Petronia takes a spoonful of the gruel and looks at it questioningly as she turns the spoon upside down and it stays stuck. Gruel that defied gravity was not something she wanted to eat. The raisins just made it worse. She placed her spoon back in the bowl and then pushed it towards the gnome. "I think you could use a double portion, friend."
She takes a swallow of beer that might as well have been water before asking, "How does one accidentally arrive in Trollheim?" She waits for another break in the questions before adding, "We're from the south. From what everyone says, I thought that was obvious. But we are looking for other outsiders. One that's rumored to throw fire."
The gnome happily gobbles up Petronia's portion too. "Oh, you know how it is, you work for a human, you end up on a ship, and suddenly it's cold all the time. But I'll get out one day. I just need to save up enough." He patted his full belly, contented.
"Throw fire? Do you mean old Mavvy? He can swallow swords too." Then his thin face scrunched up. Lowering his voice, he said, "You don't mean the Chelaxian lady? She's dangerous. Stay away from her. She lives at the Horned Helm - that's one of the reasons I brought you here. That place is rough. Even in the morning everybody's drunk."
Ner ate his gruel like pleasure wasn't a thing that came with food and, unmindfully and non-judgementally, "The raisons remind me of flies." He kept an eye on the gnome cuz somethimes it takes a thief...