Kjeta is utterly unsure what Hrungnir is saying, or even what language he speaks, but she glances at both him and the fey ambassador to try to understand how the conversation is going, and if she should speak up (in the common tongue).
Carnadine cringes at the attempts of diplomacy from his companions. "Your Excellency, what my companions mean to say is thank you for the invitation to your home. It is quite lovely."
"Despite my companions awkward statements, we arrive as 'peaceful collaborators, respected advisers, and cunning yet fair negotiators'. We would appreciate understanding more of our current situation, so we can devise how best to move forward. With all of your experience and knowledge, surely you understand the basis on which the Winter Court extends its domain into this realm's Zobeck. We've heard that there could be a treaty with the Strosses and would like that confirmed."
Hearing Carnadine speak up and in a tone she'd heard from the attendants of those that had commissioned a piece from her when their master was being particularly vexatious. Raseri lets others take over and hopes that she hadn't just ruined everything.
I should have gone with Lexi when I had the chance.
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At Raseri's mention of a treaty he raises an eyebrow "I see. You have it nearly, I think. Please, allow me to clarif-"
Then the runesman drops the gauntlet hard with an open and clear insult, and the shadows in the corners seem to grow as the Ambassador taps his wand to his forehead, eyes narrowing. But suddenly Tibbles innocently sneezes at the doorway and as the servant shoos her away some warmth returns to the room.
The ambassador lets out a little laugh "Oh dear, I fail to see how I insulted you, Hrungnir of runes. Perhaps the tiny tarts were not to your taste? I do hope this isn't simply one of those elf/dwarf things...but perhaps you do not have the full picture? Certain Lords become very ambitious when certain loopholes are perceived...ah, but I'm getting ahead of myself."
Carnadine smooths over any remaining edges with his courtly tongue. There is just the slightest hesitation as the ambassador says nothing, and again tries horribly unsuccessfully to feed the owl.
"Ah yes, I have just remembered, I did invite you here for a purpose. But you require information and certain assurances first. Allow me to concede you this. Along with the document my servant will fetch us goblets and another stoup of mulled wine, you may refuse...I admit it is more for my own benefit. I always find myself quite parched in this weather." The servant nods, understanding his task and returns promptly with an old vellum scroll, 7 goblets, and a silver stoup with a wolf motif.
"It's not quite right to call it a treaty, you see. House Stross was granted a fiefdom...nothing like a partnership or alliance as you free Zobeckers might call it. You see, this is the most principal concept of feudal land tenure. The terms are I dare say so dry cut that even the most bumbling barrister could navigate one. If you wish a copy of this copy, I would be delighted to assign a scribe to that task at once." he rings a little bell, and a cross eyed stooge shuffles forth. The ambassador simply points at the document and the stooge bows and leaves.
"Please read. But of course I can elucidate the gist. When a fiefdom is violently overthrown, the lands revert to those who granted the fiefdom. Indeed, the claim lay unacknowledged for a few decades...you must understand we were otherwise occupied and never imagined such a thing to pass. But the claim remains valid, nonetheless."
He takes a long sip of wine and clears his throat twice "The Margreve Forest and all lands within sight of it, from the Ironcrags to the Ruby Sea, are once and for always the domain of the Lambent House of Her Celestial and Royal Majesty, Sarastra Aestruum, Queen of Night and Magic, Duchess of the Heavens, Countess of Torn, Mistress of Air and Darkness, Lady of the Summer Palace and Bride of Shadows..." he clears his throat and the owl squaks "...yes as well as her husband and the father of the royal line, His Lunar and Royal Majesty, Ludomir Imbrium the XVI, the Moonlit King of the Shadow fey, Lord of the Shadow Realm, Lord Protector of the Black Elves, Duke of the Elvish Ironcrags, Baron of Bratislor, Earl of Zobeck, Master of the Winter Palace, and Count-Palatine of Salzbach."
At each title drop his eyes grow more wild, as if an inner madness pushes each new and holy syllable forth like a lion salivating in front of fresh game. But then in another flash its gone "So you see, it could not be more clear. This is not a 'con'...we are indeed very just in our right."
Realizing that the Ambassador is probably quite mad, Raseri accepts the offer of mulled wine this time and downs the entire goblet in a single long pull. She wanted to say something, but having already put tension on things, she kept her mouth closed and wraps both hands around the goblet while wondering if it would be rude to fill it herself.
”Could you tell us more about the stadthalder? Is the liege of the fiefdom to the king, queen, or both? Do you work for the king, queen or both? Do you have a particular preference of outcomes here in Zobeck?” Carnadine continues to ask questions politely spaced out to allow the ambassador time to volunteer information.
"Tzk."
Deimus hesitates, then makes up his mind and adds to Carnadine's questions: "It also sounds as though you rule over a great many other areas beyond humble Zobeck. Yet, it seems to me that these lands, for example the Ironcrags, or Salzbach, do not seem under your rule, at least in appearance..."
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The same oddly dressed servant that took your names quickly fills Raseri's empty goblet.
"Yes, the statthalter...viceroy if you prefer. Who knows when Her Majesty will appoint one? There is a little secret some Lords have found, Lords you may have crossed paths with...they know their actions, however distasteful, can not legally be called into account until such time as one is appointed. A year and a day, they say...or perhaps much sooner. Again, time passes strangely in mortal lands. But surely all will be quiet and under benevolent rule at that time." he takes another sip "Or blood will flow in earnest."
His last statement is not a threat but seems to be a genuine concern.
"Both...but really they are two halves of the same entity, as two seasons span the whole of time in our world. Er, that's a bad analogy...not like clockwork. The fey courts are ever in flux, Summer may rule but briefly before a long winter. One perhaps more gentle. The queen is amused to sometimes meet foreigners." he pauses, letting the words hang for a single awkward moment. "You know, the king was the one who declared that the claim to the city is both valid and of interest to the courts. Indeed, the king and the queen are not always of one mind in affairs of state. But no...I must stop lest I descend into gossip. That is not your concern."
"Regarding Salzbach, you have answered your own question. The Ironcrags are a special and tragic situation...a spiritual battle I could not begin to describe. Please, I shudder to think of it. Perhaps when we have known one another longer."
"What a strange inquiry. I will perform my duty as appointed without fail...and without any violent investigations." his mood seems to change, and his face hardens "You are well known in the city, you know. All my spies tell me so. And thus, your open and heartfelt support for the queen's just and proper rule will make things easier for all. I require your immediate word of honor that you will not attempt further armed insurrection against the just and proper ruler of the city."
He almost takes another sip of wine, but points with the goblet instead at the last moment "And to be clear, I mean the queen. If you have any other thoughts, discard them. Unless you can somehow change her mind, she can and will rule over everything as soon as the humans learn that her claim is just, and her rule inevitable."
You spend a few hours casing the district border Watch leading into the Collegium, and find nothing particularly out of the ordinary compared to what you have seen on other days. The gates are still posted, watchtowers still manned, and tired sentinels retiring for a drink as their shift expires.
You witness a robbery...oddly, not a jeweler or silver tinker, but a nurseryman. The Watch is nearby and just grits their teeth as the young plants and seed stores are plundered by an adolescent group of fey who, for lack of a better description, are riotous.
A tour about the town indicates that mostly just the Citadel district seems to be affected...its inhabitants still show that strange sort of mind control you saw the night before. The governmental mechanus is stalled and no tacos are being sold.
Fear reigns. Everyone you talk to has a story about someone speaking out against the fey, and getting cursed as a result...often without any direct contact with the fey or a spellcaster. They believe an antagonist divine force is at play, as Rava and Volund have become harder to reach in prayer. The curses run the gamut, strange geas forcing people to commit acts they never would, humiliating bleachings and hair loss, shadow assaults beating the victim to within an inch of murder. There is also talk of new and rapidly spreading diseases which slowly wither with ashen skin.
You press a few of your contacts, the poison vendors and the fixers who can make even the biggest messes disappear. The word is money, money, money. As established order breaks down, opportunities are springing up all over...and it seems as long...
Hearing the Ambassador demand that they swear to not take up arms against the queen and her agents rouses her anger again, and Raseri does her best to hold her tongue. Was it not this queen's vassals that had threatened innocent people in a crowded market square while hunting for sport? Was it not her assassins that slaughtered unarmed priests?
Her hands shake as they tighten around the goblet, the leather of her gauntlets creaking. Her anger was boiling higher and higher. This fey, this trickster, had the gall to demand their word of honor that they would sit by and let innocents be killed?
Her heart feels cold and her limbs go numb. The wraith and the souleater. tearing into her steals her fire. The spark of anger flickers and dies as she shivers. She downs the mulled wine, emptying her goblet again.
"Ég ætti að fara. Ég tilheyri ekki, né hef ég kjark eða geðslag til þessa." Her mutter is barely a whisper as she looks into the bottom of her empty goblet and wishes she had gone with Lexi, or had left Zobeck altogether.
"I should leave. I do not belong, nor do I have the courage or the temper for this."
Having completed her tour of the city, and with some time to kill, Lexi starts looking for entrances to the Cartways. She spends some time trying to find something that could pass for a hidden base, and once she has it, she begins stealing supplies to stock it: mainly food that will last for a while , as well as things like blankets and clothing; for the clothing, she specifically is looking for form over function.
Finally, anything that looks like medical supplies, including healing potions and healer's kits.
"Then, it seems we should seek out and speak to the queen. Would that be wise? Could you help us with that introduction?"
"What about Baron Gael Nerizorwyn of house Roren, first heir to Quinnendale? And Master-of- Roads, Haylcaster Montylgrue, of house Roren? We've met them. Can you tell us more about them and the interests of house Roren?"
Hrungnir was no thief. He was no rogue. He was straightforward in thought and approach. Which meant that quietly and discreetly placing a coin was not something he was good at. But he had to try. Luckily the servant had left to bring drinks, and the ambassador’s attention. It was now or never. He placed the coin on a shelf filled with odd knickknacks, where it might go unnoticed.
Hrungnir picks an opportune moment and places the old coin discretely...catching only the gaze of the white owl awkwardly. He assumed he was in the clear, after all surely the animal wasn't a familiar...it held none of the telltale signs of fey, celestial, nor fiend.
He grins as if his wildest dreams have come true "Hypothetically. There does exist a method whereby one could set out upon the Shadow Roads and visit the court, pleading one's case directly to the queen. My responsibility..." he says, "...is to convince you that such an action would be foolish. Surely your visit to the Shadow Realm would be suicidal and a waste of effort." He winks. "But if you would go, I cannot stop you, for the queen’s court is open to all comers."
"Ah yes, the loopholes I mentioned. A sorry business that. As I said, certain powers (perhaps the Baron is among them) are wise enough in law to recognize the limits of our embassy. You see an embassy has no judicial powers, not until the statthalter is appointed anyways...that means Zobeck is a lawless wild to these lords, there can be no consequences for their actions. I imagine it is a juicy opportunity, but yes...very regrettable. It would seem to serve everyone if the loophole was kept secret, and these wise houses were put back in their places across the divide..."
Carnadine nods in understanding the Ambassador and plays along continuing to politely ask questions, "If we were so committed to visit the queen's court and you could not dissuade us, what aid and information could you provide us, such as a map?"
"Could you provide a writ of the Court's protection as an official embassy from Zobeck? Or must I claim an official embassy from my sire, the Count of Bruvik?"
"Could you provide us a letter of introduction to Her Majesty's Courts?"
"Could you tell us why the King has asserted his claim on Zobeck?"
"What interests might the Queen have that could help us settle the current situation?"
"What criteria might the King and Queen use to select the statthalter?"
"We heard an astronomer describe a special alignment of the stars. Are we in a special period affecting the Summer and Winter Courts?"
"Who are the most influential figures with the Queen?"
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Ambassador Thelamandrine nimbly dodges such requests for direct assistance, 'never dreaming' of such influence. He quickly changes the subject, going off on a long yarn about falconry techniques that seems interminable and pointless. But then "...fascinating subject, really. You should speak to my good friend at the Collegium, Ottily Riverbend...there is no better. She has a great deal to say about such hidden techniques that might open new doors for you."
He gives a curious look, cocking his to one side before "Ah, why does an owner possess that which he owns? Its a tautology."
The shadow fey doesn't seem willing to divulge into further gossip about the Queen herself, but offers "The shadow courts are eternal. Humiliations, when they are most memorable, biting, and comedic, likewise endure...be mindful not to fall for any fey tricks, or you will surely be looked down upon. But mind also...trickery is a very sharp weapon in the courts of the fey."
"That is something only they might know. But I trust it will be someone savvy enough to avoid misunderstanding and disaster." he does not sound at all certain.
"I know naught of the forces that drive your scorching orb, but the Winter Court of the King has just recently adjourned and now it is once more the reign of the Queen."
Avoiding hunting black markets, slave markets, kobold traps, fiend and monster haunts down there...you stick to tanneries and alchemists topside, testing their practical drains and seeing how deep and how sloppy they go. 9 out of 10 times, you get the same story of a recent and firm wall ending and preventing the old use of the Cartways as a mass transport system. Many of them together might well serve as a system of caches.
1 of 10 times, you find the barrier weakened or even partially collapsed, leading into a labyrinthine twilight.
Lexi will start looking to make caches of gear then. She is specifically going to try to steal from locations in the citadel that are owned by people who are under the odd effect.
"You have been quite an amazing host, Your Excellency. I believe my companions would like to retire. If we happen to meet the queen, is there any message or gift that you would like us to deliver from you?" Carnadine reads the room that everyone wants to escape.
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"Ah, while your offer is quite extraordinary, there is a proper channel for that. Yes, it is good we've found some common ground, and that our hospitality has been appreciated. I believe we can do better, however. First, there is a certain donkey...a baudet du poitou erroneously interred near the citdel. This shall be released along with its vehicle to its proper owner, of course I speak of you Kjeta Strongmalt, 'Hero of the Hops'...mm...quaint. Let that not sour our progress here." he bows and scribbles a short missive.
"Second, a gift of friendship, if you can tolerate us this pleasure..." he pulls out a little briefcase sized chest, unlatching it. The contents glow with an unearthly light, and he turns it revealing a set of fine goblets "Fitting for a royal feast. Mithral, from the deepest mines of Midgard...'truemetal', I think its called in dwarven." he offers.
The owl screeches.
"Ah yes, a certain memory has just returned to me. There will also be a parcel sent to your residence, a 'visit from my tailor' shall we call it...some believe beauty in the court must be married to function. And certainly none could deny the resplendence of your recent public appearance." he nods to Kjeta and Raseri. "Please do look for it."
"But yes, if you wish to go you are quite free. My servant shall see you to the door. As for myself, I believe I shall prod on the mathematics set. The flow of logic is so curious is it not? Good night."
Kjeta lets out a long exhale, glad to see Carnadine turn the conversation around like that.
She bows her head to the ambassador. "Thank you for clearing up the matter of my donkey and cart. Should you wish, I'm happy to repay your kindness with some of my own ale. I have a lambec I believe might match your tastes, based on the fine wines you've shared."
If he expresses any interest, she brings some over to him.
"While we're clearing up confusion, we've encountered what we sincerely hope are other misunderstandings: multiple priests being slain, and citizens in the square being quite nearly trampled during a hunt. As we're all of one mind now, may we count on you to keep Zobeck's citizens safe while we are about our mission?"
"You have been most kind with your residence, time, knowledge and gifts freely given, Your Excellency. I bid you well, until we meet again." Carnadine politely excuses himself and steps back from the audience.
While the others work to leave, he takes an extra long glance at the decorations looking for any additional morsel of information.
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You notice the servant avert his eyes (its too much) as the Ambassador-In-Extraordinary humbly imbibes the dwarven lambic. Smacking for extra flavor "...apple slices, rind unplundered. A hint of juniper...no...nirnroot." he seems to force himself to swallow with some effort, but attempts a save at face "A divine brew, indeed...let none say the wind-shucked barely of the north has been not been saved by its heroine." he gently sets the flagon down. "Regretably the safety of Zobeckers is outside the embassy's immediate purview, though we hope to sustain the Council for some time in that regard during the...transition. Please, trust our hearts are there, but we are just diplomats, messengers really."
At first the shadows in the corners of the solar and elsewhere in the house seemed natural, if oddly exaggerated. But your military acumen and budding awareness of the general layout of the place pieces together such base observations into a hunch you can't shake; that within the depths lie some odd and unidentified sentinel placed strategically in guard of the Ambassador's position at the end of the table. For a moment you think you see a skull in the shadow, but after all it was just a mirror in the dark, reflecting your banner sigil.
The lazy dogs and rakes at play were just a deception covering a highly intelligent security, you suspect.
Hearing the ambassador mention a gift and the way she'd dressed yesterday, Raseri finds herself blushing more than the wine could account for. Almost glowing from the heat, she manages to get out a stuttered thank you. As the others leave, she hesitates.
"E-excuse me, your grace, but may I ask what you know of silver-eyed fey that can take one's shape?"
Thelamandrine uncrosses his legs and recrosses considering Raseri "Certain fey water spirits, those of an adverse nature, are fond of stealing infant humans from the cradle. They have a twisted sense of morality, and often replace the stolen babe with a replica...'Siofra' is the most accurate name I think, but I have heard 'kielkropf' or even simply 'changeling'. Curious creatures, quite easily shocked by the extraordinary. They say if you cook a meal within an eggshell, the act is so strange to the Siofra they will reveal themselves...and in that form their eyes are a mirror." he holds in a chuckle. "But of course one with the lineage of a Siofra might just as easily possess such eyes, and many things might change their shape through magic..." the owl's eyes sag in a bored look as it crooks its head away.
Departing the hidden embassy and sauntering back through the fey besiegement, you can't help but notice nothing has really changed depsite your somewhat advanced understanding of the situation. The people are still very much under the thumb of the Queen's absurd edicts, feeling her curses at even minor violations. Packs of rogue lords still rove and plunder, knowing being held accountable for their own transgressions is quite impossible without the legal accountant, the statthalter. Your one hope is the subtle suggestions of her own ambassador, Thelamandrine, who seemed to suggest the Queen might after all be willing to parley...otherwise a war seems quite inevitable, as the free Zobeckers will not tolerate the loss of their freedom for long. But a war against a shadow goddess is sure to carry with it a heavy death toll...
Regrouping later at the Hero of the Hops, you discuss the bizarre prospect of interdimensional travel and brainstorm preparations and other matters of importance.
In a few hours, a courier delivers the parcel that was promised, a tasteful little gift with a note...
"Grinning Glen, the Knight of Fools, wore these bangles while competing in jousting tourneys. With his skill, charm, and bravado (no man other than he would joust without armor) he soon became a favorite to the ladies that watched the events. Too much of a favorite it would seem, for one afternoon he was caught frolicking with a knight's betrothed. A challenge was issued, but in his rush Glen forget to don his bangles. Glen died with a confused grin on his face as the knight's sword struck him, never knowing his own folly."
"Perhaps when you again grace the courts, you might likewise slay any Grinning Glens who are absent of the status of these bangles."
"Signed, Freja Owlsdaughter, the Shadowsworn, your Admirer"
"I... I see. Thank you for your time ambassador. I shall take no more of it," Raseri says and quickly moves to follow the others out. A week ago, she would have told anyone that she knew who she was. Now, however, she feels more and more uncertain of who or even what she is. She pulls the hood of her cloak low and tries to put her doubts to rest, but they are too many and too many questions remain. As she leaves she notes the eyes of those that watch her and looks for silver.
Lexi wanders back in a couple of hours later, sweaty and dirty and reeking of offal.
"So, how'd it go?"
Just after lockpicking the backdoor to an apothecary (relocking it to appear no one entered), her hands full of useful healing salves and wrappings, Lexi gets a nostalgic feeling as she remembers a nearby dead drop. After casing it for a half hour she approaches more closely, and by the markings of chalk on the wall nearby, a surprise: message for her inside...it had to be Zokhan.
The dead drop always contained an item which was designed to appear mundane to anyone who just happened to find the location...in this case a loose brick in the wall. There was a 10 cm metal rod, roughly the diameter of a ring finger...the kind often found as long bars that reinforce masonry in construction. A thin line bisected the rod, hinting that it could be unscrewed. Stuffed inside was a rolled up sheet of copper foil, and a tiny vial of liquid.
Lexi knew the message was engraved microscale on the copper foil, and the liquid was actually muriatic acid. After reading it, the foil could quickly be dissolved in the acid, turning the slightly green fluid a deep blue. Decryption was another precaution, as if Zokhan's horrible penmanship wasn't enough. Of course the silent rogue knew the cipher key...her master had made damn sure she would never forget.
Translating symbol by symbol, a terse program results "17th daughter not what she seems. Neutralization. Seek the darastrixian Lych Gate. Cross. Still mine." The word darastrixian is written in Draconic, and means 'kobold'. Neutralization was the command to kill.
After the initial decryption, the first and last letters created a new code that could be used to find the location of the next dead drop. After a few moments she had it "Training grounds 4." Of course it had to be...the Shadow Realm.
Still mine. What an ass.
As Carnadine walks down the street his eyes narrow, there was something familiar about this particular way...then it struck him, or rather his eyes: a sudden blinding flash. The surprise was dampened somewhat by the Ghost Knight's battlefield training, he was used to such signal mirrors employed in the hands of scouts...but he wasn't expecting it here.
Carnadine traced the source to a nearby ally and suddenly realized why this street was so familiar...the Cord. This was one of the Spyglass halfling's haunts, a certain territorial checkpoint the network often filtered their messages through.
The little sneak scrubbed his fingerprints of the silvered surface with a soft pocket cloth "Heh, you been busy. Well, 'ol Cord ain't forgotten ya. Found your pair of finnochios (), Jeri and his backup? Nasty bit of work there, gruesome horror...left me the chills of the damned, it did." he paused, as if expecting you to say something...but when nothing but a cold stare returned he continued.
"...er...well anyways, they're both minced. Looked like they slashed each other apart with their bootknifes...looked. Was down by the Black Lotus, know it? Dive bar near the pier, sometimes a useful mix of rabbles and savvies in there. As for your Dawnbreaker, hes vanished. No ones been talking about attacks at performances like they had, seems hes left town or layin' low. But ye never know, rumor has he changed faces...tough thing to track. I could keep a'lookin for a'coin?"
"Thanks Cord. 'Useful mix of rabbles and savvies,' useful for what? An insurrection?"
"Can you go find Watchman Hendryk who operates an independent roving patrol in Lower Zobeck? I want to know everything about him, especially anything which would provide leverage and anything about wine bottles."
"Any other useful information?" Carnadine wraps up with this short informant and rejoins the crew.
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Catching up to the crew, Carnadine shares, "It seems our deadly lutenist tied up his loose ends killing the act that he replaced at the theater we were all at."
==================================
Back at the bar, Carnadine replies to Lexi, "The Ambassador was pleasant, after we stopped spoiling for a fight, even gave us some parting gifts."
"He suggested that the Queen might oppose the King, so a trip to the Queen's Court might resolve Zobeck's situation. He has a friend at the Collegium, Ottily Riverbend, who might be able to get us into the Shadow Realm and back."
"Did you discover anything new?"
Having memorized the message, Lexi used the acid to destroy the message.
Great, now he shows back up was the first thought that went through her head, followed by what does he mean, still mine?
Sighing, she knew she would not have any answers until she managed to get the group through the Kobold gate.
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Lexi smiled and said "I think I found a location of one of the gates Lord Knight. Apparently there is a gateway to the Shadow Realm attached to one of the Kobold gates. I believe it's worth taking a look, if nothing else."
"Excellent, Lexi. Would you be able to guide us back? I am ready to travel, but I believe our companions may have something more before they leave this realm." Carnadine replies politely.
Raseri doesn't stop at the Hero of the Hops with the others. Her mind whirling with too many fears and doubts for that. Instead, she tells Kjeta where she'll be if they need to find her before heading to the foundry and smithy of an acquaintance of hers near the Kobold Ghetto. There she asks about the metal the blade and darts she'd claimed as her spoils. Learning if she resmelt it or reforge it to something more to her tastes. In either case, she rents out a forge and begins to work once she is out of her armor and into the thick leather apron of a smith. She needed to clear her head of her worries and the wine, and there was always something about working metal and forging it to her will that helped her relax and forget her worries for a time.
Raseri pounds the strange metal for hours on end. Unlike Midgardian alloys like steel and bronze, the strange fey metal gets darker when hotter...nearing a pitch black at its most malleable. There, tiny points of light dot the dark like stars on a night sky...and as Raseri hammers the slag it is as if hammering the universe itself, knocking the lights out one by one. With each strike, and each star defeated, Raseri's mental problems seem to blunt and recede.
The end result is a dark purple metal resembling the original, but without the same sheen. It is a serviceable weapon, but you would likely need to consult with someone familiar with the material to find the best technique.
Deimus follows Carnadine’s lead with the ambassador. The Shadow Fey’s response fails to convince him about the legitimacy of their Queen’s claim, but he opted to let it pass when he recognized that they needed to speak to the Queen to get anything done.
Once back in his beloved streets, he says to his companions: "I’m worried. Deeply worried, yet I’m hopeful. Here’s what I gathered, tell me if I’m wrong. Firszt, the fey making trouble down here are fair game, until a viceroy is named and his orders made clear. For the fey, this is free country, wild, but so it is for us. No need to surrender captured fey to the city. Szecond, we need to meet the Queen and negotiate with her. Do we need a mandate to do that, or can we wing it with the paperwork we currently have? If we are all in agreement, then we need to learn about the place and figure out how in Rava’s gear we will convince them to back off!"
"Heh, na...what're drunks good fer? Well, maybe...I dunno. But I meant information wise, that's my currency. The rabbles are loud and don't need to be bought, the savvies are wise but give a docksman's price." The conversation continues "Hendryk? Sounds familiar...sergeant if I'm not mistaken, leads a protection racket in the Lower D. Yeah, consider my interest piqued...on it."
Raseri looks over the blade and the fittings for it and feels a sense of satisfaction. This was hers, undeniably hers. She could see all of the flaws in it: the dullness of the metal; the not quite perfect fit of the guard, handle, and pommel; and the slight unevenness of the bevels' grinds. She still wasn't ready to head back to the others just yet, and seeing that she had some time left, pulled a small scrap of iron from a pile and begins to work it.
In the remaining minutes of her time, she quickly forges a ring and hairpin. As they cool, she lets the forge burn down to a dull red. She thanks the two assistants that had helped her with the seax and helps them finish their chores in return. Exhausted, but feeling much better, she heads back to the Hero of the Hops to see what had transpired since she left the others.
As Raseri stated she would likely need a day or two, Lexi took the time to craft two doses of basic poison; she then loaded one dose into her Scorpion Stiletto and stored the other on her person.
Finally, she secured two doses of Alchemist's Smoke with acid mixed into it.
Finished with her crafting and purchasing, Lexi met back up with the group to head towards the Kobold gates.
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With a day or two before heading to the shadow realm, Carnadine returns to his palatial apartment and prepare for his journey. He writes a missive to his father and sends it by courier, sealed in wax with his signet ring.
Dear Sire,
Your business interests were going well in Zobeck until the shadow fey have reasserted their claim on Zobeck. Evidently, Ludomir Imbrium the XVI, the Moonlit King of the Shadow fey, claims the title of Earl of Zobeck. I have discovered that House Stross owed fealty to the Fey Court, and since the Strosses have been deposed, the city Zobeck is now wild fey country. The City Council has already been put aside by the fey who attempt tentative control of the city.
I met His Excellency Glaninin Thelamandrine, the Hidden Ambassador-In-Extraordinary of the Winter Court. He was most useful. Although needing plausible deniability, he suggested to seek out and meet the Queen of Night and Magic. Evidently, the Fey Court is not unanimous, and the position of statthalter owing fealty to the Fey Court is open and in play.
I intend to travel to the Shadow Realm and seek her out.
Your servant,
Carnadine writes a missive to his commander and sends it by courier, sealed in wax with his signet ring.
Dear Commander,
The shadow fey have reasserted their claim on Zobeck. Evidently, Ludomir Imbrium the XVI, the Moonlit King of the Shadow fey, claims the title of Earl of Zobeck. I have discovered that House Stross owed fealty to the Fey Court, and since the Strosses have been deposed, the city Zobeck is now wild fey country. The City Council has already been put aside by the fey who attempt tentative control of the city.
I met His Excellency Glaninin Thelamandrine, the Hidden Ambassador-In-Extraordinary of the Winter Court. He was most useful. Although needing plausible deniability, he suggested to seek out and meet the Queen of Night and Magic. Evidently, the Fey Court is not unanimous, and the position of statthalter owing fealty to the Fey Court is open and in play.
I intend to travel to the Shadow Realm and seek her out.
Your loyal knight,
, Captain at Arms
Deimus takes the time he can find to try to connect some more with his clutch, despite their being still distant towards him, and to convince Hrungnir, whose researching skills impressed him greatly, to lend him a hand finding out about Shadow Fey court etiquette and to find out how to get some leverage to negotiate terms.