Golloriel is mortified to have someone helping her with this task, but so grateful. She's actually not sure if she could have done it on her own. When he leaves, she thanks him profusely. Everyone here is so nice.
As she bathes her father, her mind finally starts to race; why is he in this condition? He still hasn't spoken, though he has done as he is instructed: drink this, chew that, clean ... ugh ... there. She isn't sure how long he has gone without food, but he seems hardier than a person should be in this condition; perhaps all the years on the road have boosted his constitution.
What was she thinking about? Oh, right. Why is he like this? She has been with him her whole life, and he has nev... oh. She has been with him her whole life. And now, suddenly, she wasn't. She only just now realizes that she neglected to visit him at all during her training. Oh, how selfish she has been! Granted, she should be able to live her own life and not see her father for a while without worrying that he will starve to death, but they have been in the same building for weeks. She has had time off from training. She should have checked in on him.
By now, she has him cleaned up and dressed and in the clean bed. She rations out another small portion of bread and water, which he eats readily but not greedily. She looks him in the eyes, and he looks back.
"Father... I am sorry. I have been preoccupied with training and exhausted when not training... but that's no excuse. I should have come to see you. I should have shared meals with you. I am sorry." Tears are falling freely down her cheeks.
Caladaer endures the cleaning of his room and his person stoically. He knows he ought to feel foolish -- how codependent do you have to be to almost die when you don't see your daughter for a while? -- but he doesn't actually feel much of anything. And so he lets Golloriel and the acolyte do their thing, helping when he can.
Finally, she speaks. And she cries. There is compassion in her eyes; where did she get that? She is so unlike him. Was her mother compassionate? If so, why did she abandon them and wipe his memory?
He shakes the thoughts out of his head and returns to the present. Golloriel had spoken. He could think of a million things he wants to say, but what he actually says is: "Training?" His voice is barely a croak. He takes another sip of water. "Are you a paladin now?"
Dawnflower save me.
She pours out his heart to him, and he asks about her training. She wants to throttle him.
Well, at least the father she knows is still in this barely unrecognizable body.
She sighs and wipes the tears away. "Yes. Yes, Father, I am a Dawnbreaker, a paladin of Sarenrae. It is what I have wanted for so long, and I have done it!" As she speaks the words, she realizes it is the first time since the shock of meeting Thalachos and the bone-deep exhaustion of the ritual that she has acknowledged what happened today: she is a Dawnbreaker! She wants to jump for joy and scream in excitement.
She wants Caladaer to be excited for her, with her. She knows him better than that. She looks at him expectantly.
Please don't say something awful.
Cal looks at his daughter for a long time. He knows her so well, and he can see the elation that she is trying to suppress for his sake. He has never been very good with people, but he senses that this moment right now is vitally important for his continuing relationship with her.
Every instinct he has wants to lash out, to say something dismissive. Why? Why is his impulse to push her away, when he has just proven to himself that he can't live without her (and, oh yes, he's going to need to revisit that once he regains his strength)?
He swallows the hurtful words. He even manages a weak smile. "That is wonderful, Lori."
Golloriel blinks in surprise. She feels a mental wall she didn't even realize she had put up to protect herself crumble. Did he just say something... supportive?
Apparently it took a lot out of him because his eyes closed and he passed out on the pillow immediately after saying it. Golloriel pulls the blanket to his neck, kisses his forehead, and says, "I will be back to check on you soon. I promise." She draws the shades and returns to her own room.
Andakos looks at the note in disappointment, and not a little bit of concern for Caladaer. Golloriel is vague as to his exact condition, so even though he could easily take a quick trip to visit them at the Temple, he opts to respect their privacy.
He informs his mother that dinner has been postponed (but he will still totally eat reefclaw cakes tonight if they're making them anyway) until two days hence, then tracks down Lyse. He thinks that today she should learn about mutagens. He doesn't have any particular affinity for them, but he understands how they work and that they are an essential topic in any alchemist's training.
"Well it was a bit last-minute. Of course we will still have reefclaw cakes, dear. And two days will let me set up something a little less rushed. Perhaps that Sargavan chili-pepper steaks Lady Castaneda keeps raving about. Do your friends like spicy?" She continues chattering as Andakos' thoughts drift away to his new friends.
Lyse finds the reading on mutagens frustrating. She is clearly not grasping the concepts of transmutation inherent in mutagenic formulas as well as other things, but she keeps her nose to the books, possibly out of pure obstinance.
The dinner goes well. Caladaer is feeling well enough to go, though his appetite still isn't up to where it was; he spends most of the evening picking at his Sargavan chili pepper steak.
The next morning, Andakos makes preparations to go shopping with Lyse for some new clothes (she has been pestering you for days) when another letter arrives for him.
The lettering is tight, cramped, and jarring.
Andakos,
I didn't want to have to come to you,
but I had no one else to turn to. I
still grieve for my son. I am trying
not to blame you for dragging him into
this; I know he was his own man. But it
is a hard thing.
Regardless, no one else I know can help.
After I heard of the events of last week,
I knew I could trust you. Meet me at the
Bailer's Retreat tonight, an hour after
sunset.
-- Vencarlo
Andakos is taken aback by the note; his initial reaction is deep suspicion. He reads through the note several times, studying it closely for clues of treachery or forgery.
Andakos has never been more certain the note is genuine.
Korvosa is a big city. How did he become the one person that anyone can rely on all of a sudden? Andakos lets out a sigh. Of course he is going to go; the question is, should he bring the Eglens?
Don't be daft. Of course you should.
He sighs again and seeks out Alvor to get a message to them to meet him at the Bailer's Retreat at sunset. He wants some time to scope the place out before meeting Vencarlo.
The Bailer's Retreat is surprisingly quiet, with only a couple of people outside being served by a single server. Little noise wafts out from the tavern proper. It's a far cry from the boisterous affair you arrived at with Adrin, Maelis, and Trell a month and a half ago.
Andakos immediately notices Vencarlo at a nearby table on the deck. He looks haggard, with bags under his eyes and heavy stubble on his pale, drawn cheeks. As you approach, you note the mug of ale that he slides back and forth between his hands is almost completely untouched. His bloodshot eyes move up to lock his gaze with Andakos, brief but painfully intense, before his eyes shift to the Eglens. His jaw clenches, but says nothing, returning his gaze to his full mug.
"Didn't think you'd bring an audience," he says. His voice is gravelly and cracked, and he looks like he hasn't been eating enough. "Have a seat."
Andakos gives Vencarlo an apologetic look. "I have had a rough few weeks and needed the peace of mind. Vencarlo, this is Golloriel and Caladaer Eglen. They were vital in helping me take down the necromancer in the Warrens. I trust them with my life, but they don't mind stepping away if what you have to say is of a sensitive nature." He glances the question at Golloriel.
Golloriel nods. "Of course. A pleasure to meet you, Vencarlo."
He glances at the Eglens, stares blankly, and then shrugs. "If you trust them, then I'll trust them. I need your help. But first, walk with me please." He looks down at his ale, sighs, and leaves it untouched on the table and begins walking in a vaguely northwestern direction.
He stares at the ground as they walk. "I am closing Orisini Academy."
Andakos walks with Vencarlo, arms clasped behind his back. He blinks in surprise. "Oh? May I ask why?"
Golloriel holds her hand up to Cal. Best they stay at the table; seems like Vencarlo has something personal to share.
Cal shrugs. He didn't want to get up anyway.
Vencarlo shrugs noncommittally at first, remaining silent long enough that Andakos assumes he's not going to get an answer. He turns up South Harborview Boulevard, stepping deftly out of the way of an oncoming carriage; even in his stupor, he can't seem to turn off his fencing reflexes. A trio of women chatter gaily across the street, towing a pair of scowling children done up in so many frills and puffs that it's impossible to denote a gender on either one. As unfair as it is, the world continues ceaselessly around Vencarlo's grief.
After a few minutes of walking in silence, Orisini finally speaks up. "I can't do it anymore. I tried to take on a new class last week; the city's tumult had ceased, it was time. I looked at their faces, just staring blankly at me, like sheep, and I... I couldn't do it. I just... knew... I knew I'd never be able to look in those faces and see promise ever again. I would never see hope, or potential, or challenges, or a lively student or a poor one or a prodigy or a waste of time. Every time, on every face, I saw my boy."
Vencarlo does not seem like a man who weeps; certainly he does not start now. But the words take something from him that he doesn't look like he'll ever get back. He doesn't speak again for a while, turning up Dead Shoanti Way into Jeggare Square. The square is full of people milling around, stopping at vendor stalls for kebabs, fruit, sundries--all sorts of confections and artisanal goods. Children clap at a large wooden box painted and carved into a puppet theater. Marionettes wobble back and forth on the stage. It's impossible to tell over the noise, but judging by the actions of the puppets, it's something dramatic and violent. All the children are cheering; the noise makes Vencarlo cringe.
Soon enough you're across the bridge, down Fort Korvosa Boulevard, and through the gates into Old Korvosa. It's easy to forget how much easier it is to move through the city when you don't have to move in such a way as to avoid randomly roving packs of near-feral mobs. The wide, flat building of Orisini Academy slowly approaches to your left. Even from here, you can see the shutters are sealed on all the windows.
"When I hold a blade, my hand shakes so violently it's impossible to strike with any clarity. A fencer who can't even hold a blade has no business teaching. I am a broken man, Andakos. It is time for me to fade away. What is left behind..." He swallows, a haunted look in his eye. "I am terrified what that will be."
He stops at the doors of the academy, pulling out a key. He jiggles it in the lock once... twice... three times, then opens the door and steps aside to let you enter. "The reason why I asked you here is inside. I don't know if you'll help, but... I suspect you will, judging by your previous actions."
That was definitely a signal to someone, letting them know you're entering. As to Vencarlo himself, it's hard to say when he's so melancholy as to have an utterly flat affect, but you don't see any malice or ill intent in his face.
Golloriel waves her father along and they follow, keeping a respectful distance out of earshot.
Andakos is still feeling twitchy from everything that is happened, so he can't help feeling suspicious of this whole endeavor. He can't exactly draw his spear, so he waits a few moments for Golloriel and Caladaer to catch up. He gives Vencarlo another long look, can't think of any reason not to trust him, and moves to enter. "Very well."
Turning his back to Vencarlo makes his neck itch but having his friends along helps a bit.
He crosses the threshold.
Vencarlo stands with the door still open, looking uncertainly between Andakos and the Eglens some way behind. "You're sure you trust them?"
Assuming Andakos gives some iteration of "yes," Vencarlo waves the Eglens in to join them.
Golloriel follows.
Caladaer senses Andakos's hesitation but enters the building without comment.
Vencarlo follows the others in, closes the door, and locks it with an inordinately loud and resounding click. "A few weeks ago, I was approached by an old contact of mine. We'd fallen out of contact years ago; our ideologies matched, but not our methodologies. I prefer to battle injustices within the confines of the law. He did not."
He strides across the wide, empty training space. It's easily forty feet by forty, with the floor being mostly comprised of a thin padded mat. Weapon racks full of training blades of all shapes and sizes line the walls, including mannequins with fencing gear and dozens of ball-point rapiers. The place is exceedingly dark with the shutters closed, only a few thin lines of daylight slipping through to cast ominous shadows across the walls.
Vencarlo walks over to a doorway, presumably into a back area with offices, chamber rooms, closets, and the like. "Three weeks ago, mere hours after the botched execution, Blackjack came to me again. He asked me to keep someone safe." Vencarlo raps on the door. "It's alright, dear, you can come out. They're friends."
The door opens, pouring out light into the dim training room, and a small, lithe blonde girl of maybe sixteen or seventeen steps uncertainly into the room, the glove on her left hand raised and emitting light like a torch. With her other hand, she lowers her hood, but you already know who it is, of course.
Trinia Sabor waves and gives a shaky smile. "H-hi."
Andakos doesn't know what he expected, but this was not it. After a brief moment of shock, he smiles at the girl. "I am glad to see you are well, Trinia. My name is Andakos, and this is Golloriel and Caladaer. I believe we have much to discuss."
Trinia plops down unceremoniously onto the floor and crosses her legs. "Might wanna sit down. This will take a minute." She puffs out a breath and begins her story.
"I was a street kid. Never knew my parents. I grew up in Scrapper Hall Orphanage. Nobody adopted me; it was probably my own fault, mostly. I liked pranks, and usually made a fool of myself. Nobody wants an unruly kid. I uh... kind of smuggled some smut playing cards into the Headmaster's pocket once. He accidentally pulled it out in the middle of a conversation with some noble. I got put on chamberpot duty for a month, but man, was it worth it. His face..." She sighs wistfully, then blushes and looks down. "Anyway you can see why nobody wanted me.
"I used to pickpocket to make extra coin, but after I spent three weeks in jail for it, that was it. No way I wanted to go back to that. So I found a different use for my hands--painting. Turns out I'm pretty good at it. I've sold a few pieces, enough to scrape by. Even got paid in neat items once or twice. I have a wand of--" She breaks off and her shoulders slump. "--had a wand of daze monster. Fun spell. You can make just about any creature under the sun derp out for a minute with it. I'm gonna miss that wand."
She fidgets with her hands. "Right. Point. I'm getting there, I promise. Back in Gozran--just after Taxfest--somebody told somebody told the king about me and that I'm pretty good at painting. Apparently the Queen was having a portrait of him commissioned. I dunno how I got the job. I mean, I'm good at what I do, but... the king? I couldn't believe my luck. They offered four hundred gold to paint him. Four. Hundred. Gold." Trinia's eyes bug out as she says it, as if such a sum is positively mythical. Then her face drops again. "In hindsight, I shoulda just said no. But I didn't, so I went. I was real nervous, too. You know, with all the rumors about the king and his uh... proclivities. But he was a model gentleman the whole time. Kinda stuffy but I mean, he's the king. Frankly I'm shocked he talked to me at all, but whenever he did, he was real respectful. Only had eyes for his wife, as far as I could tell."
She shakes her head. "I don't get it. I finished the portrait about a month later. I got paid, and then I left. I thought that was the end of the story, until a week later, the king was dead, and days after that, people start whispering it was murder. I knew as soon as the rumors popped up people would start looking at me. Why wouldn't they? I spent a freaking month with him, after all. I laid low, but somehow you found me. I ran. You caught me. Then the..." She swallows hard. "The Hellknights. And the execution. I thought I was done for. I'd given up hope, but then Blackjack just swooped in and saved me, like some kind of fairy tale. He saved my life. Every breath I take from this day on, I owe to him." The sun has begun to set, and the light from the slats in the shutters turns a burnished gold hue, setting the girl's face alight with subtle oranges and golds that make her look statuesque, despite her youth.
Vencarlo leans down and squeezes her shoulder reassuringly. "Yes. Despite our differences, the rapscallion does seem to always end up doing the right thing. Or trying to, anyway."
He turns to Andakos. "I have managed to keep Trinia out of public view until now, but she's not going to be truly safe until she's out of the city. I would like you to escort her to safety, and the sooner the better. She needs to get out of Korvosa before our luck runs out. I can't take her; I'm too well-known, as are my opinions of the crown. I'd instantly draw suspicion. You lot are not so well-known. Even your involvement in Trinia's rescue seems not to have drawn undue attention somehow. Most people are looking for a pair of elves and their pet demon, which describes about half the students and faculty at the Acadamae. But I suspected they may be referring to you, Master Viden. I think you have the anonymity and the skill to get her out of the city. But..." He throws his hands up helplessly. "I don't know where to send her. I am open to suggestions."
"Trinia, my... friends... and I, we were chasing you to protect you from the Hellknights. I am sorry that we failed." He looks her in the eye for a moment, then turns to Vencarlo. "It just so happens we are leaving town in a couple days on another matter. We could take her with us then. As for where to take her..."
You are heading to Harse. While not a bastion of civilization, it's relatively out-of-the-way. Perhaps Vencarlo knows of somewhere near there? He seems like a fairly worldly man.
"Our business is in Harse, Vencarlo. Do you know anyone in the area that can take her in?"
Vencarlo frowns, brow furrowed in thought, then nods. "Jasan. Jasan Adriel. He has a ranch just outside of Harse, owes me a favor. If you can escort Trinia to a waystation called... damn, what was that place? It's only twelve miles out of the city. You get her there and I'll get a message to Jasan to meet you all at that waystation. Trots! That's the name. Get her to Trots and Jasan can meet you there. He's a good man, I'm sure he'll help."
Andakos nods. "I know the place. We leave Moonday morning; I will pick you up here at dawn." He turns to Caladaer. "Do you have any spells that can help us get her out of the city?"
Caladaer considers for a moment. "I can turn her invisible, but that will only last a few minutes. If I can get my hands on a particular scroll, I can make her look like someone else for the better part of an hour. Vencarlo, are there any magic shops nearby?"
Vencarlo holds up a hand. "Don't do that. Believe it or not, that will actually draw more attention to her. Have you ever heard of the Signifers?"
The Signifers are members of the Hellknight Orders who act as their inquisitorial staff. All Signifers, upon earning that mantle, are given a Signifer Mask, which hides all but their mouths. How they see out of the mask is apparently magical in nature because it doesn't even contain eyeholes. The mask grants its wearer a bonus to see through visual-based magic such as disguise self and alter self, as well as on Sense Motive checks.
Additionally, a single concentrated detect magic would show illusion or transmutation magic (respectively) at play, rousing a Signifer's attention.
"The Hellknights tend to move in pairs: one Hellknight and one Signifer. They make a deadly combination, and you need to avoid additional attention--both you and Miss Sabor. No, I think it best if she use a more mundane disguise and simply walk out the front gates. The more casual you can make it look, the less likely it is to garner unwanted gazes."
Andakos nods. "Right, right, I'd forgotten about them. Okay. Trinia, how are you at disguise? I may be able to help a little bit, but it's not something I am well-practiced at." He holds up his hands and grins. "It is very difficult to disguise this without magic."
Trinia gives an uncertain waggle of her hand. "Ehhh..."
Vencarlo sighs. "I have a small amount of experience with disguise kits from my less scrupulous youth. I'll have her ready to go on Moonday morning. I should head out and have that message sent out. Trinia, you should get back into the back room." At her crestfallen face, he squeezes her shoulder reassuringly. "It's only for a little longer. Soon you'll be free of this nightmare. Have faith, child."
She rubs her eyes and nods tiredly, shuffling into the back room. Vencarlo frowns as she slips into the back. "Poor girl. I can't imagine how harrowing all this must be. Hopefully Harse will be a respite." He stares sadly at the door into which she slipped, gaze receding inward. Eventually he clears his throat. "I'm off. Please lock up on your way out."
Andakos thanks Vencarlo, then looks at the others. "If we go through with this, it will be the second treasonous act we've committed in less than a month. If either of you wish to bow out, let me know now."
Caladaer shrugs. "Korvosa is not my home and Ileosa is not my queen. It is not treason."
Golloriel laughs despite herself. "Somehow I doubt Ileosa will see it that way. Still, Trinia was denied a fair trial. I do not believe she is guilty. We are doing the right thing and will be vindicated in the end. I am with you, Andakos."
Andakos nods. "Very well." He walks with them back to the Temple of Sarenrae, bids them farewell, and returns home.
53 Days Since the Death of Eodred II
The dawn rises on a surprisingly and blessedly cool morning. It's not likely it's below seventy, but considering the sweltering, humid heat of the last few weeks, it's a blessed breath of fresh air. The reek of fish doesn't make it this far into the city today, which is an excellent sign. Once upon a time, shortly after Andakos' great-great-great grandmother secured her title as Lady Atrosina Viden, she got this estate at a steal the following winter and had no idea why until the next Sarenith rolled around: invariably, a ring many blocks thick around the quasi-island on which the city sits fairly stinks of dead fish. It's unlikely those at the castle smell it--they're fairly well elevated--but everyone down below gets a nostril-full every day in the summer. You've gotten used to it, but you are still blissfully aware of it in its absence.
Shortly after dawn, Alvor brings a guest into the kitchen where you are finishing your preparations for the journey.
Cabe stands at parade rest while the dwarf announces him, then offers his hand to Andakos. "Viden. Looks like you're almost ready to go. I've secured a small wagon for our use. I don't think we should bring it all the way to the tower--too easily spotted--but we can ride it as far as Harse, anyway. Should save us some time." He glances around. "Are your friends meeting us here, or are we picking them up on our way out of town?"
Andakos shakes Cabe's hand. "Morning. They should be here any minute. In the meantime, I..."
Andakos knows a few things about Cabe, in fact.
First, Captain Melandrus, while not particularly vocal about it, has hinted at his distaste for the royal family in general, not just Ileosa. Since the Queen hasn't been in the spotlight heavily until now, your few non-work interactions with Cabe haven't shown any specific disdain for Ileosa, just the royal family--and royalty in general, in fact.
Second, it's rumored that Captain Melandrus was a noble in Brevoy, but left for unknown reasons. The two most prevailing theories are that he fled an arranged marriage with a particularly hideous woman, and that he committed mass murder and is fleeing the law. A few enterprising individuals have even combined the rumors in increasingly outlandish ways.
Third, Cabe never mentioned it to you, but a couple of the other veteran guards say the captain has confided that he participated in a little-known but incredibly bloody campaign on the outskirts of Brevoy in his youth against an invading horde of barbarians from Numeria. Apparently the barbarians were shockingly difficult to fend off, and the campaign lasted almost a decade. Adding veracity to the statement is the fact that you've actually heard of it; it began in 4673 and lasted until 4682, when a surprise pincer maneuver by General Horgat Rogarvia led to the slaughter of the last remaining Numerian forces. By the end, there were thousands of Brevoyans dead and tens of thousands of Numerian barbarians dead or routed.
As to discovering Trinia, it's hard to say for sure. He certainly doesn't like the Crown, but that doesn't necessarily automatically translate into willingness to abet treason. It doesn't preclude it either, however; Andakos knows he takes a risk either way.
Shit. I can't believe I didn't think of this.
This is a quandary, isn't it? He doesn't even know if Trinia will be in disguise by the time they arrive.
Guess I'll just wing it. That always works.
"We have obtained a traveling companion, a friend of a friend. She is in trouble and needs to get out of the city. We have someone waiting at Trots to take her off our hands. I apologize for not telling you sooner; it has been a busy few days and it slipped my mind."
"In any case, Golloriel and Caladaer are meeting us here any minute, and then we will go pick up the other."
Cabe frowns slightly, but shrugs. "Very well. It is clear you believe whatever trouble they're in is not worth them dying over, or whatever fate awaits them here. And I trust you."
Caladaer and Golloriel eventually arrive, and after brief introductions and breakfast, the party heads off to stop in Old Korvosa. True to his word, Cabe has a pair of drawing horses and a small open wagon with a small amount of traveling gear. Clearly the captain is a man who believes in preparation; despite the fact that Harse is little more than a half-day's ride from Korvosa, he has stocked a week's rations for four people, a handful of waterskins, over 100 feet of hempen rope, two grappling hooks, climbing gear, chalk, and two bags full of white powder--is that flour...?
Skirting the Shingles, you see something that makes your hearts jump into your throats: a pair of Hellknights, one of whom is wearing the telltale mask of the Signifers. They move from person to person, holding a piece of parchment in their faces and barking at the interviewees. Each person shakes their heads violently, clearly terrified. While the Signifer shakes down a feeble, wizened old man, the Hellknight turns and watches your cart, eyeing Andakos with the lazy suspicion of a guard on duty. Andakos forgets to breathe for a moment that stretches for an eternity--the image of a Hellknight's heavy flail coming down on Trell's chest and caving it like it was made of honeycomb rises to his mind unbidden--before the Hellknight finally turns back to the old man.
Movement through the streets of Korvosa is slow-going for a wagon, even a small one. The streets are packed with bustling people and small swarms of children darting through people's legs. As you pass Jeggare Circle, you are once again assaulted by dozens of warring odors: fried vegetables; kebabs of fruit, vegetables, and meats; several exotic aromas that are probably perfumes; and of course, the stink of sweat that accompanies any huge gathering of people. Among the people are a handful of Royal Guard; that is not normal. The Royal Guard never work outside the castle grounds. They don't look at your cart, thankfully, but the very fact that they're about seems to bode ill.
Finally your cart crosses the bridge and passes through the wall that marks off Old Korvosa, and you reach Orisini Academy. A particularly haggard Vencarlo stands outside the front door, watching your cart approach with apprehension. Cabe pulls the cart to a halt.
Vencarlo eyes him carefully for several long, tense moments, before he finally says tersely, "Captain."
Cabe's jaw clenches slightly before he forces it to relax. "Vencarlo." He tries to keep the irritation out of his voice as he turns to Andakos. "You did not tell me he was the one who needed out of the city."