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"But I wanna look at the pretty bottles." whines the gnome.
Droo picks up the first thing that might in dim light look like a bunch of meaningless numbers written out in a row and offers it up as the needed combination, and returns to her inspection of the bar's contents (or any other interesting item) at the first opportunity.
"Woof--hic."
Binding and hiding the bodies it is then!
"Professor, have you bothered to look at the book you're so dutifully holding? It would be a shame if we had to damage the house after giving our word not to, but I see no other way if we cannot find the code. Theoretically, we could begin the process of trying the 10,000 different combinations, however time is certainly not on our side," he explains. And certainly not my patience! We've too much muscle to waste such an amount of time in our lives.
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As Droo starts to count how many bottles of each color are present behind the bar, Molvil lays the ledger back down on the counter and opens the oversized book back to its previous page. Vosk peers around the professor at a long list of sums and figures, with the words "Zephyr Sign" written at the top of the page.
Also, the free-form test field "Notes" section for each order seems to list the source of the purchased supplies, most stating Count Zespire's lands as their point of origin. These notes abruptly become vague at the ten-month mark, with many orders missing them entirely.
A quick survey of the pages before and after this one show similar patterns of price hikes and undocumented sources for most other vessels.
Doodles of flowers and leaves decorate the margins of the page, but space seems to have been left deliberately clear for a short reminder at the bottom of the page.
Vosk maintains his hovering position over the Professor's shoulder. Hmmming and huuuuhing at annoying intervals. "890 must be a clue of some sort, the only part that's anything to do with numbers!" he points out.
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I wish she would stop jumping like that. **sniff, sniff** The plump one seems hale.
Bocke tries the combination, but the safe refuses to open.
"Perhaps he is the nostalgic sort..." Vosk wonders out loud. Once Bocke steps aside, he puts in the combination 3827. "That's the year 890 years ago, suppose it makes sense with it being the 'anniversary' as is written in the note. Let's hope the locksmith thought the same, eh?"
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"Hmmm... Yes, it does seem the most likely option we've found." While Vosk attempts the combination, the Professor spends her time assessing the entries in the ledger. "We will definitely need this as evidence."
After a moment, she looks up briefly to ask Reed, Theld, and Gorrig: "Gentlemen, would you be so kind as to deal with the guards? We really shouldn't leave them out like this."
The safe slips open at Vosk's deft touch, revealing another large book and an opened envelope with an official-looking stamp on the front. Cracking open this new ledger, Molvil finds records detailing a long series of payments vaguely labeled as "gifts" to various naval officers that span the course of a year. Droo pulls an equally-official-looking document from the envelope, which upon closer inspection appears to be the deed to the chandlery, stating that ownership of the building and business officially transferred to Earl Vernisant over a year ago.
Bocke helps Gorrig and Theld tie up the two living guards, the three discussing quietly the nearest body of water and agreeing on the wharf a couple blocks to the south. In the back office, Molvil and Vosk survey the damaged painting.
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"Hey Theld! You're sort of a cleric right? Can you pray to Squidthulu, and summon up some mending magic for the painting you guys wrecked while I was out front guarding the place? Though maybe I could have a try at restoring it. I painted my sister's house once, and it came out a lot better than I thought it would. It might be one of my many secret talents." She beams.
"Otherwise, I suppose we take it to the river with this guy, and toss it in with the trash." She walks over to the body, and kicks it.
"Not so talkative now are you tough guy? Huh? Sorry. I can't hear you, because you're dead. In fact, you're so dead we would need an extra-large (never mind a medium) to talk to your ghost." she says to the corpse, pouring expensive wine on it, while doing a little jig.
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"Oh, for goodness sake! I'll do it myself. --Ms. Nettlezum, please stop wasting good wine. Use the cheap stuff, if you would. -- Just give me a moment to prepare the Mending spell." Professor Masaendri expertly casts Mending on the painting until it is fully repaired. She then turns to the rest of the room, giving the same treatment to everything the Pathfinders broke. "Do not be concerned about the ship attacking us again. This spell cannot restore its magical attributes." She reassures the group.
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"Really!? That's really incredible!" says Droo watching with pleasure as Molvil's magic animates the broken fragments back into place.
Then moments later, from somewhere behind the Professor: **CRASH!!** *tinkle, tinkle*
"Bad Vinegar! Bad wolf! Get away from those bottles. I don't know what's gotten into that wolf. Professor could you--you know...." Droo wiggles her tiny fingers in the direction of the mess.
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One of Professor Masaendri's eyebrows rises halfway up her forehead. After a significant pause, in which she reigns in her rising irritation, she coldly responds: "Ms. Nettlezum. We do not have time for that. There is still more that must be done, and we most certainly do not want to be here when morning comes. Do NOT. Waste. Our TIME. Now. Find a rag from behind the bar and wipe up that mess. Be careful not to cut yourself on the glass."
Vosk gently claps his hands for everyone's attention. "The Professor is right, we have another appointment to get to. Deal with the bodies and wine so we can be on our way," he urges. "Weigh the corpse down before you throw it off the wharf. The others could be tucked away, bound and gagged before being tucked away. They should be unconscious for quite some time so as to not disturb our efforts."
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"We do not have time for that."
Over half an hour later, Gorrig, Bocke, and Theld return from "depositing" the unfortunate guard at the wharf to find Vosk entertaining Droo and Vinegar with a fairy tale while Molvil painstakingly pieces shards of broken bottle back together. As she finishes and rises to her feet, the predawn light illuminates her irritated face.
"Let's discuss this later, we must head to the bridge!" Vosk urges the group.
The professor heads out the door, pausing to look for witnesses outside. Bocke nearly bowls her over as he tries to look around her tall frame, and Theld doesn't seem to even notice the other two as he plows straight through the doorway to conduct his own investigations. Shutting the door behind them, the Pathfinders depart for the St. Lymirin Street bridge once more.
By the time they arrive, the predawn light is getting close to true dawn as the gray-green tinge of the sky shifts to yellows and red. The canal lies empty and unchanged since the last time they were here - Gorrig can even make out the impact marks in the "beaches" where Bocke landed. Only a single muddy feather remains from the carnage wrecked by Theld earlier. In the distance, the low murmur of citizens starting their days can be heard.
"Damn, we must be too late! Let's at least give it a once over and hang around for a few minutes," Vosk suggests. Apparently having deemed a sufficient amount of time has passed since the last instance of danger, his hand slides into his pack and unveils his latest delicate pastry: a Victoria Sponge. While someone gets dirty down there, he slowly enjoys every second of every crumb's last moment. Nearly out, only seven to go! I'll have to pay that baker another visit before skipping town. Delectable!
Bocke and Gorrig examine the area carefully, but don't notice anything different from their last visit. From the bridge, Vosk notices the smell of cooking bread mixing with the sweetness of his pastry as a nearby bakery prepares for the morning rush. The sounds of the city waking echo from a distance, growing louder with each minute.
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"Well, it seems that we may have missed them. I doubt anyone will be pulling up for clandestine operations now that people are starting to go about their business." On a whim, the Professor casts Light on a stone. Calling down to Bocke and Gorrig in a stage whisper, she says: "Gentlemen: drop this down the grate to see if there is anything of interest in there."
Vosk sighs, although it remains unclear if it was out pastry induced joy or disappointment that they were too late. "Once we've determined what lies beyond the grate, shall we head over to our connection with the law?"
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Bocke and Gorrig continue their investigation as the sun starts to rise, putting the professor’s dimly-lit pebble to shame. The tunnel beyond the grate does not seem to have seen recent use, nor has the sediment buildup (other than their own footprints).
The Pathfinders depart the canal without having seen any signs of suspicious activity . The Rodonport courthouse is a tall, imposing building constructed from a mix of light brown local stone and polished imported granite, with tall pillars carved to suggest human features decorating the outside.
When Vosk asks the footman at the door where they might find Magistrate Joleana Tantriano, the woman replies, "The courthouse is not open for public business at this early hour. Please come back in a little bit." Stymied, the Pathfinders find a nearby cafe and order themselves some personal-sized egg and onion pies. From their vantage point, they can see other townsfolk pass through the courthouse square while they eat. As the sun peeks over the building's impressive facade, Bocke notices several citizens heading towards the courthouse and being admitted inside. The group quickly packs up and heads back across the square.
Inside, the granite floors and wall do little to dampen the hushed sounds of many conversations. The footman brings the Pathfinders to a closed door and knock three times. "Your Honor, there are guests here to see you." She opens the door and beckons the group inside before shutting it behind them.
The office is a stark contrast to the hard granite outside - cedar and warm, dark woods lend a feeling of coziness and comfort. Several chairs with plump cushions sit against the nearby wall, while a window on the opposite side looks out over the townsfolk wandering through the square. An older woman with white hair stands behind her desk, one hand holding a sheet of paper while the other absentmindedly rubs a cloak pin shaped like a stylized sword.
"Hmm?" Joleana looks up from her reading with a furrowed brow. "Quite an exciting morning - first these reports of thieves in Neffrey's chandlery last night, and now strangers asking to see me at the crack of dawn. But never mind all that. What can I help a group of travelers with today?"
It is a testament to their loyalty that they've yet another homage to this General Arnisant of theirs. Good for them, I suppose, but I can't imagine many visitors give a damn. Naturally, Vosk is absolutely delighted in their decision to enjoy another cafe and contentedly eats his meal.
My, my, now this is what I need in my own office! Such opulence and comfort! Yet strength and power underpinning it all. Yes, yes, yes! Vosk takes a seat in one of the chairs, his girth and the seat practically hugging each other before eyeing the Magistrate.
We might be in luck, justice and honor? We'll have to speak carefully, but if her devotion is more than just for show, she could be our ticket to success! "We are representatives for another party who has concerns for the safety of their property, labor, honor, and ultimately the sanctity of this town's relationship to General Arnisant," he explains, letting a pause develop before continuing.
"Why are representatives required? Well, the individual who's actions are causing these deplorable consequences is one of the... shall we say, more privileged members of your town. While the law forbids retaliation, surely you understand that members of such status certainly have the means to act... subtly yet effectively."
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The Pathfinders depart the canal without having seen any signs of suspicious activity . The Rodonport courthouse is a tall, imposing building constructed from a mix of light brown local stone and polished imported granite, with tall pillars carved to suggest human features decorating the outside.
"Wait this isn't were we are staying is it? It looks to austere."
When Vosk asks the footman at the door where they might find Magistrate Joleana Tantriano, the woman replies, "The courthouse is not open for public business at this early hour. Please come back in a little bit."
"Well I know one doorman who's not getting a tip."
Stymied, the Pathfinders find a nearby cafe and order themselves some personal-sized egg and onion pies. From their vantage point, they can see other townsfolk pass through the courthouse square while they eat.
"Zzzz..."
Droo falls asleep, leaning into the Professor.
As the sun peeks over the building's impressive facade, Bocke notices several citizens heading towards the courthouse and being admitted inside. The group quickly packs up and heads back across the square.
Inside, the granite floors and wall do little to dampen the hushed sounds of many conversations. The footman brings the Pathfinders to a closed door and knock three times. "Your Honor, there are guests here to see you." She opens the door and beckons the group inside before shutting it behind them.
"I had Vinegar leave her a little present back at her station. He must of ate something really bad yesterday. Heehee."
The office is a stark contrast to the hard granite outside - cedar and warm, dark woods lend a feeling of coziness and comfort. Several chairs with plump cushions sit against the nearby wall, while a window on the opposite side looks out over the townsfolk wandering through the square. An older woman with white hair stands behind her desk, one hand holding a sheet of paper while the other absentmindedly rubs a cloak pin shaped like a stylized sword.
Droo climbs up into one of the overstuffed chairs, and sits with her feet sticking out before her.
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Droo falls asleep, leaning into Alphabetical: 1d6 ⇒ 3 the Professor.
The Professor's eyes narrow at the presumptive gnome. Well, not presumptive: unconscious. She is about to push her off, bur realizes that Droo is much less trouble when asleep. With a sighing growl of resignation, she begrudgingly allows Droo to keep drooling on her dress until it is time to leave. Of course, her expression is sour enough to curdle milk.
Not surprising. Well done, though.
Hm. Good to know. How serious is she?
"Quite an exciting morning - first these reports of thieves in Neffrey's chandlery last night, and now strangers asking to see me at the crack of dawn."
...Uh-oh. If we show her the ledgers she will instantly know we are to blame for the robbery. The murder of that guard will fall on our heads as well, along with the assault of the other guards! I left academia to achieve a greater breadth of experience, but prison and execution are not on my bucket list! Professor Masaendri begins quietly panicking, though she manages to keep her outward appearance calm. She lets Vosk do the talking for now, remembering how she has bungled some verbal interactions already.
Her brain starts spinning out assessments of the information they have so far. Her heart plummets; a pit forms in her stomach. If a student presented this data to prove their hypothesis that the Earl has been acting in bad faith, she would easily demolish their pathetic attempt. Her pulse quickens as she awaits the Magistrate's response.
"Oh?" Joleana arches an eyebrow. "Deplorable consequences, you say? That sounds like a downright despicable deed to partake in - or endorse." She winks at the professor before continuing, "But it's not just the deplorableness that must be taken into account here. I'd have to take into account the effects of such an investigation on Ridonport's long-term stability, not just the letter of the law. I'm sure you agree, Mr...?" She inclines her head gracefully at Vosk as she waits for a response.
Here's to hoping that long-term effects aren't disproportionately valued against us in whatever calculus of justice she's doing. Vosk mimics her head incline as he waits a moment for her to continue. "Mister is fine, Magistrate Tantriano," he says cheekily.
"Assuming the shield out front isn't for show, the reputation of General Arnisant and the impact he has had on this town is something you all hold closely to your hearts. It stokes the fire of your patriotism and inspires you to greater heights. However the actions of a certain individual put this reputation at risk. Such an investigation would undoubtedly cause short-term instability, however this would be nothing in comparison to the long-term risks such behavior brings with it," he explains. With word of a break in, we'd have to be very careful about handling the only evidence we do have. Implying Adimare gave it to us might allows us to do so, but only if we're careful.
"We have made some initial investigations, however they have been less than fully fruitful. Perhaps you could provide us some assistance so we may protect the pristine reputation of this town from recklessly tarnishing? Even just your blessing would open many doors!" Now, he moves closer to the Magistrate. "Especially considering that the accused is Earl Vernisant himself," he whispers.
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