Ingrid seemed pleased with the haul. She pocketed the coins and began to prepare to rest. It was going to be an important day come sunrise!
When he gets a chance Karik pulls Rayiza aside to speak to her privately though he is not exceptionally carefully regarding eavesdroppers
His face is pained "Ray... I'm not doing so well, as you know I rarely stay in one place so long and so can usually find ...prey... on the road or in backwater places... I'm feeling that thirst, feeling it bad. I don't know what to do Ray... Seeing that blood in front of the gates has made it even harder. How I wanted to grab one of those fools and drain him dry... I'll admit it took all my will not to lick the blood from my fingers after I touched you to heal you. The temptation doesn't extend to those here... yet..."
"You on the other hand, I reckon could stare down a whole church square of troublemakers."
Vivia laughs boisterously then manages "Become a law woman? That'd be something fresh." She shakes her head "Seriously though, I'd rather be run through with a sword than turn into some small town law enforcer."
Downstairs, Vivia sweeps the gold pouch set aside for her into her palm, then spends a moment weighing the metal in her hand. She looks thoughtful as she pockets the money, but that passes as she takes out a pair of bottles of mead. She cracks one open as she takes a seat against the wall. "Anyone else?" She proffers the second bottle - one for herself and one to share.
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***
"Well, I'll never turn down a drink to our victories still to come, Vivia. Let's find some glasses."
***
"...No, no I don't intend to greet the sunrise here, so I really must go."
The mead sat like a lead weight in her stomach. Most of what she ate and drank did that now, or it might as well have vanished from her innards as soon as she swallowed for all the satiation it provided. But the mead was sticking, I should remember that...
Raziya moved carefully as she arrived at her aunt's home, a cottage on the town-ward side of Constanzia's pensioner's hide. The hinges weren't well oiled, so she opened the door gingerly to minimize any presence-betraying squeals. This is ridiculous. I'm a grown woman, and it's not as though she's my real- "Raz? That you?" Why do I bother? I can hardly drop a pin in here without her calling it out... "Yes Umunne."
Her aunt appeared at the doorway of her room, armed and armored with a housecoat and a weighty head-knocker of a cane. "At least you didn't think you needed the sword!"
"You know I don't mind you coming and going at all hours. I just want to-" "-To know, yes. I'm sorry. Things ran late with the new job."
Constanzia sniffed pointedly, "I suppose they did at that... Look, Raz. With the hours, and some of the people you've said are helping out, is this new job something... Are you being safe?"
"Auntie, don't worry your head with such nonsense. No one's going to get hurt."
"I'll manage, I don't know for how long though." says Karik walking back into the room.
Karik waits for Rayiza and anyone else to pour themselves a drink before taking the bottle and taking a massive gulp straight for the bottle.
He looks sheepish and puts it down and looks for one of the bottles of wine that had been in the kitchen.
Regardless of what he finds he mutters to himself "I might need to get some more to drink"
He picks up his pouch of coins saying"Ray? Can you lead me somewhere to get some drink on your way to... wherever?"
If it's purely for flavor, I have no problem with it.
Cimri joins the others sharing Vivia's mead, "Thanks, Vivia." After taking a swig, she says, "As for small town enforcer... that may be where this is going. I'd bet my pay for today the archbaron is going to have us squaring off with our old neighbors. Might not mean much to, well..." She gestures towards Eris and Karik, "folks not from here, but..." She shrugs and takes another sip. "I doubt it's going to stay local if the Glorious Reclamation is coming, but..."
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Brogol waves the offer of mead aside as he inspects the items procured by Razelagro and his servants - a canvas sack containing a deep black cloak and fine set of locksmiths' tools. Brogol briefly marvels at the quality - Razelago has some sway after all - before dropping the coin in the sack as well, and tucking the bundle under his arm.
"I'd love to, but I've got some people to see. See youse all at the meeting tomorrow."
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Hurrying into town to beat the curfew, Brogol's first stop is the Rees House. Brogol finds Karrio Rutsward sitting behind a desk piled high with all manner of knick-knacks, curios, and other assorted junk. Pointing to the Archbaron's sash and shaking the canvas sack, coinage within it clinking together, Brogol gestures towards the backyard. "Armor shed." Inside, Brogol finds a worn officer's shortsword, older than Brogol himself, pitted and dull. Dropping fifteen gold into Karrio's hand, Brogol nods and takes his leave, calling over his shoulder as he does so. "Get it sharpened and leave it in the carriage outside Kaelman's house by dawn at the latest."
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Removing his sash, Brogol steps inside the seamstress' home. Linly Karrish was old - older than Brogol's new sword by a generation, and was known to be a shut in, cared to by her large family of children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren. Karrish was also Varisian, and Brogol hoped she's understand the importance of what he was going to ask. Removing his scarf and the fine quality blades gifted by Razelagro from the sack, Brogol lays them on the floor. "My kapenia," the driver says, letting the old woman take in the scarf. "It kept my father's father safe, and now it has to keep my family safe."
Taking five platinum pieces from his sack, Brogol lays them on the scarf. "Difficult times are coming. This money will keep your family safe. Please stitch the new blades into the old scarf. I'll be back in a week to pick it up. Deal?"
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Loitering outside the Iron Smithy, Brogol sidles up to Aldane Tuft as the man leaves for the day. "Oi. Tuft. Yer a smith of some repute. Carriage behind Captain Kaelman's house. I need it up and running, pronto. Axl's broken, wheels are in bad shape. Five platinum in it for you if you get it up and running, six if it is done in under two weeks. Sound good?"
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The second to last stop is by the Arch and the Lark, where Fordeneil Cembers stands behind an empty bar. Sidling up to the bar, Brogol slaps a platinum on the counter, removing his cloak and draping it across a high-backed stool. Sighing as he sits, Brogol adjusts the Archbaron's sash, making sure that Cembers takes it in, as it was well-known around town that Cembers dreamed of currying the favor of the Archbaron.
"Tough times for any business." Brogol looks around the empty bar. "Looks like both you and Caggin will be closing early for a while. But all the town's essential workers are gonna need a place to drink after hours, yeah? Without any competition, the Arch and Lark could be just that place. What do you reckon Fex's favor is worth?"
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As night falls over the town, Brogol makes his way home, but stops by each of the living deputies' homes first. Brogol stays to the shadows, and takes note of whether or not the homes seem inhabited, before moving onto the next.
The following morning, as the group gathers to head up to the Archbaron's Manor, Vivia stops to stare at the building. She shakes her head, then addresses Brogol and Raziya "I think this is where I get off Fex's wagon."
"For as good as the gold is, it doesn't take a genius to realize that things are going to get far worse in Longacre before they get better. Fex's announcements are going to light a fire in the people here, and even some normally straight thinkers are going to be running rabid. And that's not considering what the Glorious Reclamation is going to say to delude them into gettin themselves killed." She scowls at the thought. "Plenty of gold to be made and plenty of gold to be claimed, when then hounds of war come braying. But I've got my boys to worry about. I'm not getting them wrapped up in Fex's game. So that means I take what we've gotten so far and split."
She strikes Brogol and Raziya on their backs in a bit of boisterous camaraderie. "I think the two of you are going to do just fine for yourselves if you stick around. Just have yourselves a plan for when Fex decides you've outlived your usefulness. I've done enough work to get a sense for the sorts of employers that treat mercs as disposable. Fex seems like the sort." She delivers another sound clap on the back, then steps away. "Good luck. Maybe I see you two ruling this place when I visit again?" She grins.
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Eris can't hold still as the group gathers the next morning prior to going to their appointment.
When the others stand, she walks around the outside of the circle or occasionally skips. When she does hold still, she experiments with a spell she has memorized that makes the cranium she carries float beside her and shed an eerie light.
"This will help you see better, father! Hehee!"
When Vivia talks of leaving, she says "Is there a way off the merry-go-round? I think probably not. It's just which side of it you'll be on as it goes faster and faster--ha!"
Brogol has no problem completing his errands and the tradesmen and women are all happy to do the work he asks. At the Arch and Lark, Cembers gives Stokl and sharp eye. It's clear the proprietor is having some trouble reconciling what she knows of Brogol (something of a common laborer and vagabond, coupled with a common prejudice towards Varisians) with the impression he's trying to make as a servant of the archbaron.
Several seconds seem to drag on into minutes while she stares at him, then she turns, reaches towards the top shelf of her mirrored and finely carved bar, and pulls down a bottle of a fine amber liquid, which she then pours into a snifter and slides it to Brogol. "Nidalese whiskey, on the house." She slides the platinum coin back to him. "I'm interested, but I've got standards to maintain." The fact her tavern is practically empty seems beside the point. "I'm not sure I want all the riffraff of this town in here. And I'm not sure how much this 'opportunity' is going to cost me."
The Scarlet Crown lies southeast of Longacre on the outskirts of town. A pair of rampant iron stags watch over the gate on the road leading to the manor, with red glass shimmering in their horns. Beneath the stags, a pair of grim guards in black and crimson livery keep watch, but when you approach they say you are expected and are are willing to wave you through.
Sharp gables and tall, narrow windows lend the archbaron’s manor an abbeylike quality, as though this were more a place for study and solemnity than leisure and laughter. A motif of rampant stags with antlers bloody from battle repeats among iron rooftop finials and on a crest above the stone entrance.
Several guards patrol the grounds and stroll atop the rooftop terrace, crossbows in hand, while halfling slaves scurry about the grounds tending to the gardens.
Cimri seems a bit gobsmacked that she's about to step inside the grand manse when Vivia announces this is the end of the line for her. "What!? she blurts out, looking at Vivia wide-eyed. "I... I'm sorry to hear that, Vivia. I hope it doesn't mean we're gonna be at cross-purposes. Just... keep your family safe, yeah?"
”You’re an idiot.” Ingrid said, bluntly. ”Best coin for the easiest work, and ye leave before ye could get a rich patron. But it’s yer life. Just don’t do anything even dumber, like joining the reclamation.” She looked at the Warrior with distaste, which was born out of disappointment.
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Raziya didn't disguise herself for the journey, forgoing her rather foreboding helm and armor for a crisply laundered gown whose skirts could be discretely pinned higher or lower to allow them to escape the worst of the road's dust, but still project a sober, professional appearance once she'd arrived.
She's a bit early, and spends some time admiring the gardens and complementing the gardeners' efforts.
She nods coolly at Vivia's announcement, but does not expand on Ingrid's warning, instead turning her attentions to a companion who would surely still be of use.
"You must stay calm, Cimri," she tuts, "Vivia is mighty, yes, but it's through your leadership that we've accomplished the archbaron's goals." Briefly she trails her fingers through the uneven ends of Cimri's hair, snagging as she pulls free a tangle. "There. Sometimes separation causes a bit of pain, but it's often worth it in the end."
Brogol lifts the whiskey to the bar's candlelight and then, hovering the glass under his nose, sniffs. "The Nidalers... Nidals? Nidalese? They make whiskey? I wouldn't know about such things..."
Slugging the drink back, Brogol clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, apparently unaware - or uncaring - that fine whiskey is for sipping.
"What I do know about, is that times are changing in Longacre. I'm offering you a chance to be in on the ground floor, as it were."
Picking the platinum coin off the bar, Brogol drops it into the empty glass. "Everything has a cost, right? Archbaron wants a place he can keep up on the public's sentiment, and its you or Caggin. You want the nobles to visit, you want the Archbaron's ear? That's the cost of doing business. Let the riffraff in, get 'em drunk. Keep your ears in everyone's business."
Gesturing to the world outside the bar, Brogol continues. "This blows over, you can go back to being snooty, and you'll own the establishment in town with the seal of approval from the Archbaron. It is a small price to pay, yeah? Your service to the crown will be of course worth every inconvenience. I'll make sure of it."
Sliding the glass - with the coin still inside it - across the bar, Brogol stands and grabs his cloak. "I'll return with an exemption for your business, and the Baron will expect you follow the terms of our agreement. I may be the single most important person you've ever met, Ms. Cembers, and my coin spends as good as anyone else's in this establishment. I expect you won't forget that."
Brogol frowns, and grasps Vivia's hand, pulling the woman into a hug. "Oi. Listen. Take care of your boys then, yeah? I'd say don't take any s#~! from anyone, but I know I don't need to."
Brogol understood completely. He'd thought the same himself, that perhaps his family would be safer somewhere else. But his ma - she weren't going anywhere - best to stick things out and make sure things worked out for the Archbaron. Still, this parting hurt. Not only was Vivia a strong arm, but she was a good drinking buddy and a - rare as they are - friend.
"You'll always have a home here, as long as I'm still breathing. Hope we see each other soon."
Pulling his new cloakhood up, Brogol made his way towards the Archbaron, the driver chewing over Vivia's words from yesterday. "Maybe if we play our cards right tomorrow, YOU could be the new sheriff. Wouldn't that be a step up? Family would never be safer."
Vivia had a point, and Brogol realized that if the job was on offer, he'd take it. Still, he had his sights set on something bigger...
Karik finishes waking up somewhere on the way to the manor so by Vivia's announcement he is mostly functional, though uncomfortable in the light as always.
Karik looks hard at Vivia. "I know what you mean and I have thought the same myself. But I'm going to risk the ride a little longer, call it morbid curiosity if you will."
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Vivia grins at Eris, cocks her head to the side, and in rare fashion decides to play into the insane girl's game "I'd be careful you don't get trampled by an animate gazebo, they'll knock you off that merry-go-round and never think twice about it."
She tousles Cimri's hair "I'm sure I'll find a fight against the Glorious Reclamation one way or another, so if you're against them, we'll be on the same side. They owe me. They owe me a hell of a lot."
She laughs at Ingrid "Spoken like someone with nothing but herself in her life. I don't mind being an idiot should it keep my boys alive. You'll learn-" She narrows her eyes "-Eh, maybe you won't, considering."
She snorts to Brogol as she pulls away from his hug "Don't go getting sappy on me. And I'm not so sure there'll be a home for any of us here if things go south. Cheliax is Cheliax - sometimes they make an example of towns, right? The kind of example that doesn't leave much left." She shrugs "You're smart, you'll be fine."
She nods to Karik and spends no further time with goodbyes. With a last, skeptical glance at the manor, she heads off for Rohalendi's to pick up her boys and get on the road.
----
As Vivia turns and heads back towards town, Cimri chews her lip in a brief moment of worry, then shrugs it off. "Well... more money for us, I guess." She takes the rest of you through the gate and up to the manor house's door where a halfling butler greets you and escorts you to the archbaron's office on the second floor.
The room is appointed in midnight ebony and crimson satin. Towering bookshelves, glassy-eyed taxidermic creatures and curtained alcoves line the walls. At the far end of the room, a large desk and throne-like chair sit beneath a coat of arms displaying battling, bloody-horned stags. Behind the desk, a wide window overlooks the manor grounds.
In the chair sits a spare-looking man with slick salt-and-pepper hair and a long mustache. As you enter, he stands with the unhurried air of a superior and, after casting a glance over you, gets right to business.
"So you’re the agents Razelago has recommended? I can’t say you’re what I expected -- but that might be a boon in the days to come. I am Darellus Fex, Archbaron of Longacre. Razelago tells me you’re the ones who reported our local priestess’s... lack of patriotism. As such, I thought you might be well suited putting an end to the threats to Longacre and the rule of law -- my rule. If you’re amenable, of course.”
Ingrid stepped forward and bowed respectfully. ”Asmodeus’ will be done, your grace.”
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Eris wears her reversible cloak with the red and black of Asmodeus, with the Archstar showing. She smiles serenely and steps forward, lacking the mad look in her eyes, at least for a moment.
She also bows, perhaps a little too theatrically but otherwise within the bounds of protocol.
"The pleasure is ours," she says. "I am Eris. Perhaps you knew of my father, Archcount Innistrad Rosala, may the law of Asmodeus grant him all he is entitled to in the afterlife. He was from here, originally anyway. I trust he was well-respected here, as he was in Egorian. It has been my pleasure to do your bidding."
As she turns away from Fex, she winks to her companions, as if recognizing they may be surprised by her uncharacteristic demeanor.
Brogol finds it surprising just how easy it is to slip back into the role of servant in the presence of one's betters. Standing to the back, rampart-straight but with his head down, Brogol waits until Eris - surprising lucid - finishes her conversation with Fex. Then, stepping forward, Brogol gives a deep bow, keeping his eyes on the ground.
"It would be my honor, m'Lord."
After the first round of introductions is finished, Fex presses a bell on desk, though the chime seems to come from a neighboring room. A moment later, a rail thin human emerges. He wears a fine brown felt suit, with a swirl of sandy blonde hair crowning his head. "I'd also like to introduce Dr. Zeiber, an acquaintance of mine. Some of you may know him as a local healer of sorts. Doctor, we didn't have much time to talk earlier this morning, but I was just explaining the terms of the employment I was offering."
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"Mmmm. Thank you Archbaron." Franz Zeiber takes two steps forward to stand at a point in the room with the Archbaron and the group of common thugs equidistant from him. He adjusts his glasses, their lenses thick and heavy, and the light falls upon them such they seem opaque. He gives a quick, utterly inauthentic smile that wrinkles the deep grey scars across his cheek.
He addresses the thugs "Doktor Franz Otto Zeiber." He tugs at the lapel of his suit. "Ze Archbaron has told me of ze great opportunity ve have here in Longacre. Ve vill be instrumental, I am to understand, in excising a tumor growing underneath this fine town's skin."
He turns to Fex, yielding the floor "If it pleases you. I am eager to hear more."
Brogol keeps his head ducked, hopefully obscuring his scowl as he takes in the Doktor's heavy glasses and obvious air of superiority. Why do the ones always feel their oats always look like they need help finding them? Good to keep that one flattered, lest he decides to point his ire at youse. Filing away the thought, Brogol raises his head and echoes Zieber's question. "Aye, M'Lord. I'm also curious as to how we are to be of yer service?"
"If I may echo my fellow's thoughts in a slightly more upfront way." Karik steps forward giving a small salute to reflect his military attire "I hope you will pardon direct speech but that is how I have always served.
I follow the principle of clear instructions and no questions. You tell me what needs doing and it will be done. No questions, no complications, and no mess.
I know I'm jumping out in front of but I found our previously contact left things a little blurry with his instructions. I am happy to be the hands at arms length, bloody or otherwise, but I will not grope blindly. I don't need to know the why but I don't like working without a nice clear understanding of what needs doing. I just wanted this out in the open nice an' clear before we get started. "
Karik pauses I hope I haven't gone too far - staying in one spot feels weird but I don't have much option with my old contacts out of action.
"A pleasure to serve, Archbaron," Raziya's words are smooth, but the smile that goes along with them is barbed. "Which threats do you wish us to begin with?"
Fex nods obliquely at the acknowledgments and introductions. When Brogol and Karik ask for specifics, he leans back in his chair and the thinnest of smiles. It's hard to tell if it's mocking or sincere, perhaps both. "Yes. The 'hows' and the 'wherefores' as it were. Forgive Razelago for any... imprecision. I wanted to see how you did without precise instructions as I wanted to see how you thought on your feet."
He steepled his fingers in front of him and looked up at the ceiling for a minute, putting his thoughts together with the casual expectation you will simply wait quietly as he does so (a luxury of the nobility), then looked back to you and answered.
"The Glorious Reclamation is coming. That's just a fact. And Her Infernal Majestrix has been quite clear that any rathole in which that rebellion might find safehaven is to be rooted out and burned. My intent is to hire you into my service and, through me, as representatives of the Imperial government.
"I will dispatch some of my house guard to Longacre to deal with routine matters. But I want you to suss out the treasonous elements, deal with those who violate my edicts, and generally bring the rot to the surface then, as the doctor says, excise it from my town. In the end, the patient needs to survive. I can collect no taxes from a corpse.
"In return, I'll pay a salary of one-hundred fifty gold per week, and you may confiscate for your personal use any items you recover in that service."
He pauses to let you consider the terms and ask any questions.
"It vill be my pleasure." Doctor Zieber nods "And what of those who are indeed treasonous? Do you expect them in chains, or do ve have permission to deal with zem as ve see fit?"
While the gold is a tidy sum, and the Doctor already begins planning how it may be most efficiently used, it's the potential free test subjects that brings light to his eyes. Test subjects were hard to come by. Only the condemned, the incurable, and volunteers, usually. This task could yield many more candidates than usual.
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Eris considers whether she should put Fex in his place for not acknowledging what she had said about her father.
No one will ever say an unkind word about you in my presence. But to this point, he hasn't said anything at all. Is it a slight? He forgot? He has hearing problems? Or perhaps he is simply an illusion and none of this is real.
She strokes the cranium reassuringly.
"We will strike at any treason," she nods. For any reason in any season! Hehe!
"Are there any you are worried about today?" she asks.
Should I tell him I like my reward gift-wrapped?
”That sounds agreeable.” Ingrid said. The gold was nice, but it was the right to confiscate that would hold the true profit. She waited to hear the answers to the others’ questions.
To the doctor, the archbaron says, "If they are taking up arms against the empire or the queen, it is high treason and the typical punishment is to be drawn and quartered. If they merely rebel against me, hanging or another quick manner of execution is acceptable. But, if you see some gambit may pay off by showing mercy or can turn one of them to our cause, you have my dispensation to do so."
To Eris, "As for your... father, you say..." He glances at the cranium Eris strokes as if it were a cat. "I am familiar with him. Tragic, his death." The flat look in his eyes suggests he is thoroughly over the tragedy, if it ever bothered him at all. "We were good friends."
A thin smile comes to his lips and he adds, "You must be one of the younger offspring, then. Your brother is doing a perfectly fine job running the barony now, though he does need guidance now and again, which it is our pleasure to provide."
The archbaron's gaze slips back to the cranium, brow furrowed as if something is bothering him, then an almost imperceptible gesture of dismissal and he looks back at all of you. "There is another matter to attend to, but if you've other questions..."
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Eris returns a serene smile.
"I think he had mentioned you were friends," she replies. "I am glad that you are someone worthy of my absolute trust," she adds.
I will be careful, Father. You were cunning like a fox, and I will be too. Just tell me what to do, and I will do it. We will get even--I promise it! Haha--we will get AHEAD!
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Brogol clears his throat and raises his eyes from the floor, holding Fex's attention. Scratching his everpresent stubble, the driver takes a deep breath and dives in.
"So, are yer men gonna be the law then? That's routine matters, yeah? Who's gonna be yer sheriff?"
"I've got some, er, gambits, I'd like start. Yer decree mentions 'exemptions.' The woman that owns The Arch and the Lark, she should get one. Let Cembers keep her business open past curfew, and let those with official business and other exemptions congregate there. She seeks your favor. She'll keep an ear on the tavern, and gather any rumors and gossip that liquored up loose lips offer. You make this request of Cembers, she won't say no. And I'm happy to deliver the exemption - and any terms you have to her."
"Give the Jackdaw an exemption. With the curfew, their couriers will be in more demand than ever. They'll be going into people's homes, talking to folks, they'll see more than most well-placed spies could ever hope. The lads are young and they'll need a place to blow off some steam after some long days. The perfect townsfolk for Cembers to ply with drink."
Breaking eye contact with the Archbaron, Brogol takes another deep breath and shifts his weight from left to right and back again. Get it over with, man! The big ask!
"And there's one more thing. The coin is good - and well appreciated - and there's a lot one can do with it. But I made a vow to my Da I'd never be a serf - you know, metorically or literally. Coin only goes so far..."
Brogol's face flushes red, the man's voice raises an octive. "I know I'll never be a lord, but there's other things a man can have, don't have to be a serf in this life. We do this, exercise yer rot-"
"I want a knighthood. No lands, nothing like that. Just the title. Titles've been given for far less."
The Doctor adjusts his glasses slightly at Fex's verdict on any 'rebels'. It wasn't the answer he'd been hoping for. And any rebels would be far more useful advancing medical science than becoming informants or whatever else it was that turncoats did.
When Brogol begins rambling about his aspirations, Franz glances at Fex. If this loudmouth irritated Fex enough, maybe that would open opportunities. And Brogol looked healthy enough for quite a long and productive set of experiments.
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”Knighthood?” Ingrid mused. ”I believe that is under the Code of Cheliax Registry...what was it? CCR 3.03...A. Aye, that’s the code for the requirements of knighthood. Provision A-3 does provide an Archbaron with the right to award such a title, does it not?”
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The archbaron listened with the studied patience of one who had spent a fair bit of time listening to diabolic recitations of the Asmodean disciplines. As one malapropism followed another, the slightest bit of a smirk tugged at the edge of his lip, but it was fleeting. When Brogol was done and Ingrid chimed in, Fex said in a tone as dry as a desert wind, "I'm well aware of my authority, thank you."
He slowly leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk and placing his hands before him, eyes fixed on Brogol. "That's a bold request, Master Stokl. I'm not sure what things are like in Varisia," there is just the hint of a sneer in his tone as he references the region to the north, "but in Cheliax we have certain... expectations of our knights, landed or otherwise. This is a civilized land of standards and a knight is expected to function as well in the wilderness as the Imperial court."
Though the words may have been neutral, the tone conveyed a certain disapproval. His tone then softened, "However... Prove your ability and loyalty, educate yourself on the customs of Chelish nobility, and read something other than those penny dreadfuls, and we may be able to arrange something for you." He paused, then added, "Brakenbol probably has some texts that you can start with."
"As for your other requests... reasonable. Cembers is enough of a bootlick that I fully agree with your assessment, but I expect you'll keep some eye on the couriers. That could just as easily cut against us."
Cimri has remained silent through all of this, patiently listening and watching from the back of the room.
Ingrid kept her mouth shut. She had done what she had intended to do; which was to stop the Archbaron from feigning an inability to grant the request. Figuring that she had pushed her luck as far as it would go, she patiently waited. The next step would be to help her comrade study up. Because if he suffered, then she would have a man with title in her corner, and one could never have enough of those.
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Brogol thinks - fleetingly - about stating that he knows nothing of Varisia, having never been there, but quickly pushes the thought aside. Don't be ungrateful. Instead, the slightest smile crosses the driver's face, and he ducks his head again in supplication.
"Thank you, M'Lord. I'll keep a close eye on the Jackdaw. Is there anything you have in mind, which you need from us today?"
Casting a quick glance towards Ingrid, Brogol's smile widens, and he gives the tiefling a quick nod of appreciation.
This matter resolved, Fex says, "Indeed. Queen Abrogail has decreed that in this time of national crisis, all agents of the crown must reaffirm their loyalty to their lord, House Thrune, and Cheliax by swearing the Hellfire Compact. If you’re to serve in the queen’s name, I must insist."
As he speaks, he stands and crosses to a nearby alcove where he pulls back a thick curtain, revealing a golden stand gripping a chunk of black crystal that smolders like a gigantic, hellish ember, filling the room with a crimson glow the color of blood.
"For those that may fear for the disposition of their souls or perhaps have already bargained them away, the vow is legally binding but has no spiritual ramifications. This is little more than a formality, but one the queen has commanded. Indeed, I myself swore the vow to reaffirm my own loyalty."
"Are there any objections?"
”None at all. My soul is aligned to Asmodeus, and never have I had cause to regret. Likewise, it is an honor to serve House Thrune.” She tapped her holy symbol as way of proof. ”I am ready.”