The woman stomps again on the deck, and the hippopotamus looks over at her with a startled look on its massive face. She points at the water next to her, and the animal begrudgingly snorts and plods towards her. "It's fine, that's fine, we don't want to die," she says hesitantly as she slowly sets down her bow. "Carlo, don't do something stupid."
"Uh, you got it... boss?"
As the Pathfinders descend and tie up their prisoners, the pirates offer no resistance. "Maybe it'll get us better treatment, see?" Carlo answers when Droo asks him about it. "At least that's what my cousin's great-aunt's brother's nephew said, and he's been arrested more times than he has fingers without serving a single day in jail." He nods sagely, seemingly oblivious to the rope wrapped around his hands.
The barge and tunnels are filled with wooden casks, each bearing a scratched-out makers mark. Upon opening one, Molvil is hit in the face by the strong scent of salt pork. The pirates have few items of interest on them, save for a winged helmet from the woman in charge and several vials containing light healing potions.
"Look, we don't know who's been paying us for all this," the woman explains as Vosk questions her. "We started robbing shipments and had a fence here in Ridonport. Never saw 'em, just left messages as we needed 'em. That's when we started using these tunnels as dead drop spots." She turns and spits on the ground. "Then we stopped hearing from our fence several months back, but the payments kept showing up. And they got good - not just more coin, but weapons and armor even."
"I reckon it's the Earl himself!" Carlo adds sagely. "My mother's father's sister's son's daughter is an aide in the Senate in Oppara, and she knows all about these sorts o' political schemes. It's a perfect crime though, isn't it?"
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The woman stomps again on the deck, and the hippopotamus looks over at her with a startled look on its massive face. She points at the water next to her, and the animal begrudgingly snorts and plods towards her. "It's fine, that's fine, we don't want to die," she says hesitantly as she slowly sets down her bow. "Carlo, don't do something stupid."
"Uh, you got it... boss?"
"And just who do you think yer lookin' at, bucko? And it is 'Capt'n' not 'Boss'. I'm the world-famous Don't you, and yours forget it."
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"The central device in the maker's mark decorating these casks is a scaly gar - the same creature features prominently in Count Zespire's coat of arms.
Carlos may be right, but his speculations would never hold up in court without more evidence.
I suggest we unload the goods here, and see who comes by to claim them."
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The elderly Professor, not seeing a safe way down to the beach, chooses to stride up onto the bridge so she can look down on the crates and see the markings on them. Narrowing her eyes, she confirms Bocke's conclusion: "Yes, Mr. Reed. Indeed. Count Orlundo Zespire will be most interested to know about this."
Next she power walks along the road to take stock of the entire barge. Her eyes catch on the leader's headgear; she immediately jerks to a stop. In her sternest "teacher who caught a student with something they shouldn't have" voice, she declares: "Hm. Gayleigh. I am afraid we must take your helmet. If it is not one of the...misappropriated items we are investigating, I will be very much surprised. Hand it over to one of my associates, if you please." The tone of her voice makes clear that this is not a request.
Gayleigh scrambles to remove the helm, but has a hard time of it thanks to the rope binding her hands together. She finally manages to scrape it off her head and it lands with a wet plop in the muddy sediment. "Of course, ma'am, we didn't know it was special or nothing!" the woman says quickly, trying (and failing) to pick the helm back up.
Overhead, the sky begins to lighten in anticipation of dawn as Bocke, Theld, and Gorrig finish unloading the casks into the tunnel, leaving the barge empty. The pirates watch in astonishment, muttering back and forth to each other.
"What do you reckon they're doing, Robin?"
"I think they're trying to catch whoever comes to retrieve the goods."
"Oi! He asked for my opinion, Carlo - not yours!"
"Well, they're going to be waiting for a while. We've never seen 'em, no matter how long we wait. Bet they're watching 'till the coast is clear before they come out."
"Even if we find a suitable location for a stake out, I suspect whoever comes to retrieve these goods has eyes and ears that've already gone on the move," Vosk points out. Or at least they would have if they were any good.
"I propose we call the guards to reclaim these goods and return to the Magistrate with our prisoners. If these louts had to go through a fence, there is no way we'll magically not need one," he concludes. "Speaking of the fence, how did you all receive your payments?"
"Speaking of the fence, how did you all receive your payments?"
Gayleigh tries to gesture with her bound hands. "They show up here," she says simply. "Usually a few days after a delivery, sometimes a week. Doesn't seem to follow a pattern." She tries to soothe her hippo, who snorts angrily as she floats nearby.
Maybe take a look in the crates?
Did we get a fancy whistle with our deputy badges?
{munch, munch, munch}
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"Unless there's something in this cargo besides salted pork, turning it in won't be evidence of any serious wrongdoing, and doesn't implicate the Earl at all."
Bocke digs around in at least two of the barrels to see if there's anything besides salted pork.
"If we turn in a bunch of pork barrels, what's our next move?"
Bocke votes to stay and watch. He's okay being outvoted if that's the way the rest of the party feels, but ...
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"OHH! She's got a hippopotamus! I wanna hippopotamus for Crystalhue! That puts me in mind of a song...."
"Bocke, the symbol on the barrels indicate that these belong to a certain Count who suspected his goods were being relocated," Vosk explains. "Yes, no hard evidence, but at the least, it solidifies that pirating has occurred under the Earl's watch. An embarrassment at the least, for someone like him."
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"What happens if these goons don't snitch? We know that the Count's goods were stolen, but in the absence of other evidence, we don't know who stole them.
If I were the magistrate, I'd want more proof. Admittedly, maybe she can give us additional powers or hints, but she also may not - and we'll lose this time-limited opportunity. We can always wait and go to the magistrate later in the day if nobody picks these barrels up; if we go to the magistrate and it's not enough, we can't bring them back here and expect someone to show up."
With their prisoners in tow, the Pathfinders once again set out for the magistrate's office. Once again they watch the sun rise over the stern facade, though this time without the delightful quiches and soufflés. Once again the footman escorts them through the marbled halls to Joleana's office. Once again she shuts the door behind them, leaving the adventurers and their "friends" with the magistrate.
"So." Joleana stands, her expression stern. "What have my fine new deputies brought in? I must say I'm impressed with how quickly you work." Her mouth twitches, as if trying very hard not to smile. "Might I dare hope you've discovered something to back up your claims?"
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Professor Masaendri is much more at ease during this meeting with the Magistrate. After all, last time went much better than she had feared, and the other woman seems prone to like her for some reason.
"Hmm. Yes. It was interesting to me how quickly these smugglers shared information. Apparently they know that cooperation leads to a greater chance of leniency. Their leader, who identified herself as Gayleigh, claimed that they don't know who is funding their endeavors. Originally there was a "fence" involved, who they never saw, but for whom they left messages occasionally. Several months ago the fence disappeared, but the payments didn't. Instead, they got more lucrative, both in coin and weapons and armor. It seems this helm, formerly belonging to General Arnisant himself, was one of these items. Cincia Reviamo, the curator of the museum, has informed us that Earl Vernisant took this particular helm to his private collection for deeper study. Has the Earl reported any such theft? Perhaps Gayleigh would be so kind as to share about how long ago she came to possess it; I feel foolish for failing to ask."
Yup, another long lecture from the Professor. She really likes to hear herself talk, doesn't she?
Vosk sits smugly in his chair. My, there is a lot of support here! I think all of the details have been sufficiently handled. Ah, yes, the minor addition will have to be made at some point.
A few minutes after the pirates have been sufficiently questioned and hauled off, he piles the items in question on the Magistrate's desk. The helmet, a rubbing of the seal from the barrel, and the Ledger with a note bookmarking the page in question. Should take a load off of our backs, if we can get those pirates locked up for our efforts we'll be in prime shape.
Written in a constantly changing script (each word has a different font), the note has incredibly brief instructions to "tie loose ends," with a brief description of the Ledger and it's location (suggesting that the pirates also did the early morning break in). The note itself shows signs of numerous crumbles and folds, in addition to a few water stains.
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Joleana nods thoughtfully as Gorrig and Molvil present their evidence, then pulls her velvet cord twice. "It certainly is odd that the Earl never reported a theft of an item valuable enough to warrant removing from the museum for further study," she muses as a pair of guards escort the pirates out of the room. "And a hippo, you say?" she asks Droo, eyebrow arched. "A shame - I was going to ask them about the break-in at the chandlery, but the surviving guards said their assailants were accompanied by a wolf, not a hippo. Oh well." She glances at Vinegar before shuffling the papers on her desk.
As Vosk passes her the ledger, the magistrate raises both eyebrows. "How... convenient," she replies slowly. "Very fortunate you were able to recover this before it was lost, Mr. Lazav. I'll take a look this afternoon, once I've had a chance to review our young scallywags' testimony."
"Now then, I'm sure you have other places to be." With another tug of her velvet cord, Joleana summons her trusty footman to see the Pathfinders out.
Rightfully suspicious, but I think her hands might be tied in this case. We were operating as her deputies, wouldn't be a good precedent to set, accusing her own deputies of falsifying evidence. Not impossible, but not without costs for her either. Vosk gets up and bows deeply at the Magistrate. "Thank you for your time Magistrate, we'll be in touch," he says in farewell. Gliding out, he waits for his peers outside.
"It appears we have found ourselves with more time than tasks. Shall we enjoy this time and try to return to a more traditional sleep schedule? I propose food and some entertainment! At least until we tire of the entertainment," he suggests cheerfully. An afternoon on the town is of lesser quality than a night, but certainly cheaper.
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Joleana nods thoughtfully as Gorrig and Molvil present their evidence, then pulls her velvet cord twice. "It certainly is odd that the Earl never reported a theft of an item valuable enough to warrant removing from the museum for further study," she muses as a pair of guards escort the pirates out of the room. "And a hippo, you say?" she asks Droo, eyebrow arched. "A shame - I was going to ask them about the break-in at the chandlery, but the surviving guards said their assailants were accompanied by a wolf, not a hippo. Oh well." She glances at Vinegar before shuffling the papers on her desk.
"Perhaps the hippo had lycanthropy." posits Droo.
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"And a hippo, you say?" she asks Droo, eyebrow arched. "A shame - I was going to ask them about the break-in at the chandlery, but the surviving guards said their assailants were accompanied by a wolf, not a hippo. Oh well." She glances at Vinegar before shuffling the papers on her desk.
As Vosk passes her the ledger, the magistrate raises both eyebrows. "How... convenient," she replies slowly. "Very fortunate you were able to recover this before it was lost, Mr. Lazav. I'll take a look this afternoon, once I've had a chance to review our young scallywags' testimony."
Panic immediately begins rising in Professor Masaendri's gut. She sees right through it! It's too convenient. I knew it! What a fool! I should have pointed it out to them. I KNEW it was too obvious! Once dismissed, she inclines her head in a nod of respect (which has the added benefit of hiding her face from the Magistrate), and swiftly strides out the door.
Once out of earshot, she makes sure the entire team hears her thoughts on just how tenuous their position is in a low, furious whisper. "We must be extremely careful. She suspects that we may have been involved in the break in at the chandlery, due to the issue with having a wolf in the party. And now we have conveniently given her the ledger that was stolen from the chandlery. Add to that the fact that the smugglers we turned in are generally agreeable and have been easily forthcoming in their answers to our questions; no doubt they continue to be so. Of course, they will deny having anything to do with the ledger, and without any notable reason to believe they are lying, it is quite possible that the Magistrate will come to the conclusion that WE ARE!" Her wide eyes glance about wildly from face to face as she hunches, breathing rapidly (and perhaps not deeply enough). After a moment, she suddenly jerks herself upright and commences a deep breathing exercise with hooded eyes, attempting to completely shut out the world for just a few moments.
The Pathfinders spend the afternoon relaxing - Droo asking every merchant she finds if they can sell her a hippo , Vosk returning to his favorite bakery for more chocolate eclairs, Bocke lighting a fire on the wharf and roasting a bitten seagull, Molvil trying to not lose her composure, and Theld reveling in the madness of it all. As the sun sets, they return to the museum to get some sleep.
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In the morning, the Pathfinders are awoken by frantic knocking at their makeshift sleeping quarters. "Hello, sorry to wake you," Cincia says worriedly as she pushes the door open, "but, well, we've got visitors." Behind her in the main room of the house-turned-museum, clanking armor and the screeching of furniture being moved can be heard. "Apparently they're rearranging everything for some special event." The curator throws up her hands in frustration and leaves the room. After a few seconds, her voice can be heard telling someone to "handle that gently - it's worth more than what you make in a year!"
The Pathfinders emerge to find guards rearranging the museum. When asked, they simply reply "Earl's orders" and usher the adventurers outside to join a gathering crowd of townsfolk. A small speaking platform has been set up next to the doors, and musicians play merry tunes to keep everyone entertained.
As the guards exit the building and push the crowd back from the museum entrance, the quintet starts an inspired fanfare. A tug on a rope unfurls long banners of green, blue, and gold from the eaves of the building, and small pellets rolled within the cloth fall to the ground and release plumes of sparkling blue and green smoke. A figure strides through the smoke and ascends the platform, resplendent in a finely cut outfit and raising his arms to bask in the audience's applause.
"The earl!"
"It's him! It's really him!"
"Squee!!!"
Earl Vernisant raises a hand a last and the crowd's cheers subside. “We stand here today in recognition of greatness!" he announces. "Greatness of Taldor’s institutions, of Taldor’s people, and the greatness of Taldor itself! Yet our grand empire would not have shaped the world as we know it were it not for sacrifice - the selfless heroism that inspired our neighbors to unite against a common threat, when evil itself threatened to snuff out civilization as we know it. Yes, I speak of the great General Arnisant, my direct ancestor who faced evil head-on and gave his life so that we might live our own. Yes, in Taldor, we respect tradition because it’s what made us strong and keeps us strong, and I stand before you today as a living testament that General Arnisant’s legacy of selfless and impeccable service lives on, for the glory of Ridonport,” the earl pauses as the crowd cheers wildly, “and of Taldor itself! This is our birthright, and today we celebrate our heritage proudly!”
The quintet plays a cheerful tune as the guards motion for applause and the crowd cheers. For effect, Vernisant frowns with pensive concern before motioning for silence and continuing. “Yet there are those who hate our traditions, who loathe what Taldor stands for, and who disparage Arnisant’s sacrifice that bought us our freedom.” The earl motions for patience as the crowd boos angrily. “Yes, I too was angry when I learned someone might despise Taldor with the same blasphemous hatred that the Whispering Tyrant leveled at our empire when he drew upon his foul magic and attempted to tear out General Arnisant’s heart - just as even now some in Taldor which to shred institutions as sacred as primogeniture that have made us strong!
“And,” he notes, raising his hand before leveling it at the Pathfinders, “They infiltrate our ranks even today! It was these villains who broke into the chandlery, stealing from the very businesses that sustain Ridonport and murdering its lawful denizens in cold blood!"
Vosk is lounging along the fish pond, lazily swirling his fingers in the cool water as the Earl talks. The fool might as well be beating his chest like an ape. Functionally the same as this racket. Taldor is the only nation that can't see it is a shell of it's former self, sliding further and further into decadent decay. He sighs. Suppose he is expecting us to talk now, to put on a show before we're unlawfully detained. Not the first time someone's tried to publicly shame me. He won't be the last.
Still in his casual position, he lazily rolls his head back to rest on his fleshy shoulders. "You speak of facing evil head on. Respect. Tradition. Even selflessness. So, Calhadion," he says, notably ignoring the accusation and the man's title, "Which of these amicable Taldan institutions and societal pillars do you stand on when you support pirates in working your canals?"
He sniffs. "Aren't you supposed to be an Earl, the best and most righteous example for your people? To live up to the reputation of the great General Arnisant? Personally, I think the boots were too big for you to fill, otherwise you wouldn't be taking things from this museum, robbing the people of the opportunity to revel in their prestigious history and paying pirates with the spoils." That ought to piss him off, it's always more fun when they're angry.
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"And a hippo, you say?" she asks Droo, eyebrow arched. "A shame - I was going to ask them about the break-in at the chandlery, but the surviving guards said their assailants were accompanied by a wolf, not a hippo. Oh well." She glances at Vinegar before shuffling the papers on her desk.
As Vosk passes her the ledger, the magistrate raises both eyebrows. "How... convenient," she replies slowly. "Very fortunate you were able to recover this before it was lost, Mr. Lazav. I'll take a look this afternoon, once I've had a chance to review our young scallywags' testimony."
Panic immediately begins rising in Professor Masaendri's gut. She sees right through it! It's too convenient. I knew it! What a fool! I should have pointed it out to them. I KNEW it was too obvious! Once dismissed, she inclines her head in a nod of respect (which has the added benefit of hiding her face from the Magistrate), and swiftly strides out the door.
Once out of earshot, she makes sure the entire team hears her thoughts on just how tenuous their position is in a low, furious whisper.[smaller] "We must be extremely careful. She suspects that we may have been involved in the break in at the chandlery, due to the issue with having a wolf in the party...."
"Don't worry, Professor. You heard my story about the lycanthropy. Ain't no one seeing through that!" Droo weaves her fingers together behind her head, and puffs out her chest in pride.
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In the morning, the Pathfinders are awoken by frantic knocking at their makeshift sleeping quarters. "Hello, sorry to wake you," Cincia says worriedly as she pushes the door open, "but, well, we've got visitors." Behind her in the main room of the house-turned-museum, clanking armor and the screeching of furniture being moved can be heard. "Apparently they're rearranging everything for some special event." The curator throws up her hands in frustration and leaves the room. After a few seconds, her voice can be heard telling someone to "handle that gently - it's worth more than what you make in a year!"
The Pathfinders emerge to find guards rearranging the museum. When asked, they simply reply "Earl's orders"
"But I asked 'what's for breakfast?'"
Earl Vernisant raises a hand a last and the crowd's cheers subside. “We stand here today in recognition of greatness!" he announces. "Greatness of Taldor’s institutions, of Taldor’s people, and the greatness of Taldor itself! Yet our grand empire would not have shaped the world as we know it were it not for sacrifice - the selfless heroism that inspired our neighbors to unite against a common threat, when evil itself threatened to snuff out civilization as we know it. Yes, I speak of the great General Arnisant, my direct ancestor who faced evil head-on and gave his life so that we might live our own. Yes, in Taldor, we respect tradition because it’s what made us strong and keeps us strong, and I stand before you today as a living testament that General Arnisant’s legacy of selfless and impeccable service lives on, for the glory of Ridonport,” the earl pauses as the crowd cheers wildly, “and of Taldor itself! This is our birthright, and today we celebrate our heritage proudly!”
Droo is not impressed.
"Wait. All this because he's someone famous's kid? I mean it's not like they are rare, or anything, kids. I mean, I don't have any-." she pauses and nudges Theld in the thigh, before going on in a loud whisper "Well, at least none that I know about." She finishes with a knowing wink.
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Gorrig watches Vosk with a touch of admiration. I wish I had his confidence right now. Well, fake it to make it, I suppose... "Hatred of outsiders doesn't become you, Earl. I can only hope baseless claims like these are a habit of yours, otherwise it might look bad." He keeps his hands folded behind his back, hoping to appear as nonthreatening as possible. As if I'm ever unarmed.
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With an exasperated sigh, Theld looks down and glares at the gnome for some time. "Stop."
As to the accusations, the soldier looks around the square. He muses over the possibility of a giant melee right here before the museum. He hears the screams, imagines the frantic energy and slowly prepares himself for the battle that seems to be brewing.
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I could say, "What evidence do you have that you know who did that," but we left those two guards alive, and they can identify us. And the Magistrate will not simply let us go with a stern warning, will she? Despite seeming to like me, she seems like a woman who doesn't let personal preference get in the way of doing her job. And we did kill that one guard... Oh dear. Is every Pathfinder Society mission like this? Professor Masaendri's mind is spinning in tangents such that she nearly fails to think of something to actually *say*. Fortunately, at the last moment, she latches onto Vosks's accusation, building onto it as best she can without spending time to review, revise, and rewrite.
Just as the Earl opens his mouth to rebut the Pathfinder's response, she waspishly adds: "I am sure that Ms. Reviamo's inventory records can be used to determine just how many artifacts you have taken from this museum (and which ones, at that). I am curious as to how many would be found in your possession if your properties were searched. Perhaps, to prove your innocence, you will consent to an investigation of your properties right now. Clearing your name will also tarnish your challengers'. Though I think you know as well as I do that doing so would...backfire. Resoundingly." She crosses her arms and glares at him with all the crackling intensity she can muster. This is the look that sent students hustling out of the lecture halls with tears in their eyes, leveled at the Earl with nothing held back. Finish what you start, Professor Masaendri! Do not give up just because it is challenging! (...and frightening.)
Neffrey also raises his voice. "I actually suggested that they search the chandlery, given what goes on there now that it's your building," he adds.
The earl turns to Neffrey, a look of hurt shock on his face. "Adimare, you wound me with such underhanded tactics! And after I purchased your failing business as a personal favor to a friend!"
He turns back to the crowd, arms open. "See!? These outsiders do not even try to refute that they have blood on their hands, but instead try to deflect attention from their own sins with baseless accusations in the hopes of shocking us into silence! But we see through their lies, these villains who even shed the blood of Taldor's own navy, striking down our nation's finest on their native soil!"
From the crowd, a irritated voice speaks up. "None of the sailors at the docks mentioned a fight last night," Rasvelg states loudly, "and we all know how these young hotheads can't keep their mouths shut, win or lose. Though I did hear that Gayleigh finally found a fight her beast from Osirion couldn't get her out of." He pauses to spit. "Serves that deserter right if you ask me."
Well I'll be a Monkey's Uncle! Thank the Divine for Rasvelg, I'll have to make sure he mysteriously gets a little extra gold for that little tid bit!
"Gayleigh, you say? The woman who works with the hippopotamus? Wouldn't you be glad to hear then, Calhadion, that we arrested someone with such a beast, oh just yesterday in fact, for pirating Count Zespire's goods. If that lot is who you are referring to, Taldor's finest they were not!" Vosk responds. "Sounds to me like a lot of deserters, who were paid with a helmet you removed from the museum, were caught by us while we were deputized by Magistrate Tantriano!"
He rolls onto his side, propping his head up with one arm. "It looks to me like the blood of criminals was spilled, although I understand how you might have confused them with a legal Navy," he quips while buffing his nails against his chest before inspecting them.
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Well I'll be a Monkey's Uncle! Thank the Divine for Rasvelg, I'll have to make sure he mysteriously gets a little extra gold for that little tid bit!
"Gayleigh, you say? The woman who works with the hippopotamus?"
{Droo scans the crowd for an overweight person of low character, while wondering Who's 'Gayleigh'? Hmm, maybe team Gastronomical Vulture Mutiny would have been the better choice for a scouting party. That was their team name, right? They seem to get all the cool spoilers.... *sigh* This was supposed to be the adventure I didn't have to think about. Grrr.
"It's preposterous that pirates would be operating in Ridonport!" the earl declares loudy. "Why, it's a personal insult to both my administration and our fine citizens' upstanding moral fiber!"
"Then hold on to your... hat, Vernisant, because I've got four wanted criminals all clamoring to testify," Joleana adds with a half-smile. "And they just so happen to all admit to raiding barges in the canals. I'm sure everyone here would agree that fits the definition of pirating, no?"
The earl scowls. "I'm sure these so-called 'deputies' have browbeaten their poor captives into all sorts of false testimony," he rebuts. “But my people, let us not forget the lessons of Mendev’s third crusade, when invading demons infiltrated the heroes’ ranks to spread misery, misinformation, and misfortune. So to do these foreign menaces spy on us and turn us against one another, hoping that we might destroy each other. We must stand together to be strong!”
"We are deputies of the magistrate."
"Like the bald one said, Vernisant, they're my deputies." Joleana's smile has a hard edge now. "They investigated the canals on my behalf as part of my ongoing investigations into the rampant piracy happening there."
"I am sure that Ms. Reviamo's inventory records can be used to determine just how many artifacts you have taken from this museum (and which ones, at that)."
"And they're not just some ham-fisted clods!" Cincia blurts, fists clenched tightly. "They're scholars, invited guests here at the museum!"
Vernisant shakes his head. "I am disappointed to see so many fine citizens taken in by this... political conspiracy against me." He raises a clenched hand to the sky, towards the massive statue in the square outside. "But I am the only one who can lead Ridonport, and I am prepared to prove that I can fulfill my duty to the city!"
Time to put this to bed. The more wrong he is, the more right we are! "My, my Calhadion, we even have the papers right here!" Vosk says, waving the official paperwork of his deputization. Making a show of looking at them, even asking someone from the crowd to read something for him, he raises them back in the air and points at a line. "These are still good too, one of your truly fine citizens has reminded me that we have five more days of work ahead of us!"
While the various citizens speak on their behalf, he takes the chance to reposition. Tucking the papers back into his leather satchel, the large man rolls himself back up to a seated position, swings his heavy legs onto the ground and stands, a veritable tower among the common man.
"One final question for you, Calhadion. I couldn't help but to notice that the ledger we found had many entries labeled as 'gifts'," framing the word with air quotations, "and they were always to Taldor's finest, Officers of the Navy! For a whole year! You claim this is some sort of political conspiracy, but the only thing I see here is a corrupting influence that must be excised before this town is forced to pay the price for your selfish behavior!""
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"... fulfill my duty to the city!"
"What is your duty, exactly? Is it to loot your city's museum? To plant geneaology trees to pretend your ties to history are stronger than they are? Whether or not you are even an Earl, it is the basic duty of every citizen to make this city a better place, but you've turned it into your personal bank account. You should be ashamed that six strangers to your city have put an end to bribery at 'your' chandlery, put an end to piracy at 'your' canal, and returned stolen artifacts to 'your' museum. It seems like we're the ones fulfilling 'your' duty to the city, and you're the one actively destroying it. You ought to be ashamed of yourself - this city is certainly ashamed of you!"
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"But I am the only one who can lead Ridonport, and I am prepared to prove that I can fulfill my duty to the city!"
"My, my. Someone thinks highly of himself. In a city of this size, do you truly think that no one else is capable of running the operations here? I am quite sure that a survey of the population would turn up plenty of well-qualified candidates. Do you truly believe that every citizen of your fine city is too stupid to be a leader?"