"'Fantabulous'. That's a strange word, but we've heard it before. The clown that Elen irritated. They were roaming the Senate floor with us."
Kort's head snaps to look at Muri.
"Oh may gods, you're right! The clown! Of course!" he nearly slaps his forehead in an undignified manner but, of course, he doesn't do that. Instead, he regains his stiff demeanor. "Ah...and if I recall correctly, (s)he was a halfling."
Muri leans down over Imistos, and snatches the silver symbol from the slumbering assassin. He looks it over, then pockets it, preferring to contemplate over it later. He does give the words of the missive immediate attention.
"We should know their strength, how many are interrogating Lady Martella. If Imistos can't be convinced to tell us, we'll only be able to promise that we'll turn him over to the authorities. But Kamari said something that made me think. Will we know who's in charge, when we find our way out of here? I'm worried about that. Are we responsible for protecting these nobles, or can we part ways, so we can make our way to the Repository? We should decide now, before we show our faces."
K'Aldrian looks at Muri, certain that he is missing something.
"What authorities, exactly? The Crazed King has gone nuts and kilt most of the Senate, right? So...exactly who do you think we will be turning him over to? We'll have to find another way to make him talk rather than tossing him into the bramble patch, I fear," he reflects aloud.
Muri returns to report that the way forward is clear. Given the attention being paid to the downed halflings, Muri also retrieves the Rapier of Imistos, and brings it to Kamari. "When you're better, a better weapon."
Kamari eyes Imistos' rapier and compares it to her own. She concedes it is of better quality (). She sheathes her own and holds the new one as the exploration continues.
"Save them or don't save them," she says to the others. "The Princess and the Lady still need us and I will not waste time on this rubbish. They know they are safe with us or they can stay here and take their own chances."
She moves to join Muri at the next door.
"We've guaranteed their safety until we've left this place. I may have a sense of where the guard stands once we've reached the streets. Uh, magic."
He looks behind them. "Would someone help me retrieve the... book-bugs?"
Kamari wants to go forward, Anselm back. The Major wants to interrogate as does, perhaps, Muri. The nobles, who are remaining quiet, clearly just want to get out of here and go home.
You have more than you can carry if we include a sleeping halfling a nearly dead halfling and a nearly dead dire rat. Not sure how you're going to get them past even the next door - though I suppose you could drag them along the floor and down the stairs... thump, thump, thump.
Oh, and yes, sorry, Imistos' rapier is indeed masterwork. Forgot to list that one. Also, I'll assume you're leaving behind the sword with the poison on it. Let me know if someone wants to take the risk of picking it up.
So, what do you do?
Though interested in the assassins and why they are after Lady Lotheed and the party, Kamari stands/leans by the door and keeps an eye out for more trouble.
"Whatever you're going to do, please be quick about it."
Anselm breathes in and out deeply and attempts to gather the party away from the group.
"We seem to disagree about what to do with these criminals. The Major here favors summary execution for those who haven't died. I do not. I would know what the rest of you think. I will abide with the majority view, given the circumstances."
He pauses, as if to bulletpoint his inquiry.
"I favor getting information from them in an expeditious way. We could drag them along with us, or we could use a rather ingenious method that this very place posed to us."
He sighs wearily. "I am also exhausted. And yet, that doesn't remove the fact that, for one, the normal treatment of captured criminals is trial and, for another, they may have information that will help us."
He looks, in turn, to each of the party members. "We can proceed once you've all weighed in."
You have heard of the Dignified Repository. A member of your family stored some things there some years ago. It's a warehouse used by nobles for temporary storage - often of old furniture and the like from their ever expanding mansions.
You don't know exactly where it is, just that it's in the warehouse district somewhere. Easy enough to find when you have some time to search as the district isn't really that large. Maybe a few hours search if you're unlucky. Less with good information gathering (though that can have its own delays).
- - -
Muri begins to share Kamari's desire to depart. "The warehouse district. The Dignified Repository is somewhere within that section of the city. We'll need to spend some time pinning down its location, but it shouldn't take too long, if we're focused."
The halfling speaks up about the halfling hang-up. "Do we know how long we have to let the books tickle Imistos to learn what we want to learn? If you have two books on him, do they finish in half the time?" Muri shrugs to himself.
"The Brotherhood of Silence knew about this floor. If the halflings don't return, they'll come looking here. So we don't have much time." The halfling thinks some more.
"This is war. I say we kill them. Reduce the Brotherhood's numbers by three. That way, we won't face their poisoned daggers again. When we approach the Dignified Repository, I should wear Imistos's clothes, and escort one or two of you. Kamari was teaching me how to disguise myself. I should probably practice."
"M'Della? Do you have any ideas? Have you pieced together anything?" Kort asks Mama D.
"Not as much as one would hope, I'm afraid. I doubt that The Grand Prince, should he still live, will be honoring the Senate's vote from earlier. In that light, my guess is that it will be us the authorities may be wanting to have words with, should we take these miscreants to them."
She tuts and shakes her head, a heaviness of spirit hanging on the slope of her shoulders.
"However, knowledge is power, something we are woefully short on at the moment. How long would it take, this bookbug interrogation? Lady Lotheed has need of us sooner, rather than later, and though I too am beyond tired, I worry that my kinswoman may not live if we wait too long."
- - -
"Regardless of our next course of action, I believe we must rest. We cannot storm into an enemy stronghold with our energy so depleted."
"No course of action has been determined yet, but we do not know enough of the current state of affairs to linger here." Kamari stretches her arms out palms up.
"Perhaps we will make it to the surface and find Oparra still in turmoil. Perhaps the Princess' allies have seized a clear advantage and we might work with others to assault the repository and weed out the last of them. Or, perhaps we will need to find shelter and rest as the mad king and his forces are winning. But as Muri pointed out, we cannot rest here as our foes already know of our presence in this place."
Kamari looks about. "While I applaud your creativity, I have no intention of backtracking to the other creatures and burying myself further in this tomb. Leave the sleeping one tied up and let fate decide his future or execute him. I will sleep well tonight with either decision."
"If you're going to interrogate one, then kick him awake and let's be done with it."
Muri nods. Then kicks, only after the assassin is properly bound, with the rope he has on hand. More accurately, in Underfoot's travel leathers.
"Up now. We have things to ask you. We know about your clown boss, we know you are members of the Brotherhood of Silence, and we know you would have brought us to the Dignified Repository, had you bested us. We need to know how many of you were working with the Fantabulous. How many should we expect at the Repository? Do you have allies? Why are you giving halflings a bad name? We know about your god." Muri holds up the silver holy symbol, then tucks it away. "Why would you work against Martella? Did you know about Stavian's plan to slaughter everyone on the Senate Floor? Was Imistos aware of his badge's function, or did he just get lucky, like us? Does the Brotherhood have a headquarters, and if so, where is it? What will you do, if we release you?"
Kort will aid Muri's interrogations, happy to offer military justice/corporal punishment to another if it will aid in things to have his fellow assassin ended for being non-communicative.
"Like he says, answer the questions and may leave here alive," Kort answers severely, always appreciating military justice.
Intimidate to aid
* * *
"While I need to rest like anyone, I do think Kamari has the right of it. We don't know enough of what is happening outside to say for certain we can make any plans, one way or another. We just don't know."
Kamari watches Muri work and soon gives up watching the door as she realizes this will take a while.
She takes on the role of bad guard to his bad guard.
"You might live through this. You might not. It's really up to you and how long this takes."
"Fantabulous, of course!" She pauses in thought. "Hm... What do you think of someone who leaves a not-so-subtle signature like this? I mean, a killer clown! He might as well have just written the whole letter in the sky."
~~~
"I would know what the rest of you think."
"Why kill them all over again? I don't think I want to. Why not just lock them all in same room and let them sort it out when they come to," Elen shrugs. "Though they be halflings and rats, I have no desire to encumber myself with one, so if they come with, they walk on their own."
Unable to persuade herself into interrogating the awakened halfling, she instead stands in clear view of him with her glaive and looks pitifully over at his partner's dead body.
She simiply states, "He wasn't as lucky as you."
Anselm nods in assent. As the assassin is woken up, he adds, "I've no doubt of your fanaticism. But what will Thamir Gixx say after you traverse the Boneyards, if we make your identity known to all of Taldor? Talk, and your anonymity may survive."
Muri, with the aid of the party, browbeats the halfling named Walther into indifference from outright hostility. He awakens roughly and immediately reaches for his weapons, only to find them absent. He’s unhappy, but as yet unwounded, so he has a thin shred of hope.
"Up now. We have things to ask you. We know about your clown boss, we know you are members of the Brotherhood of Silence, and we know you would have brought us to the Dignified Repository, had you bested us. We need to know how many of you were working with the Fantabulous. How many should we expect at the Repository? Do you have allies? Why are you giving halflings a bad name? We know about your god." Muri holds up the silver holy symbol, then tucks it away.
He, at first, refuses to answer at all, but the party piles on and it’s clear to him he must say something if he’s to save his life. Still, he says little.
”I don’t know how many are in the religion. Scattered across the world? Likely thousands of us, if not more - and we will mark you for your blaspheme.” he looks particularly at Anselm. ”Thamir Gixx is more powerful than your Taldan god Aroden. He’s dead isn’t he! Ha!” He mumbles on about the true religion, mentioning allies all over the world, including the church of Norgorber (link), but none of particular note locally. You’re not entirely sure if he’s hiding that fact, or if he just doesn’t know. He doesn’t seem particularly bright and may not know. ”We’ve got a small army at the Repository, you should just give up now!” he adds full of bluster, though it’s clear to most, if not all of you, that he’s lying.
"Why would you work against Martella? Did you know about Stavian's plan to slaughter everyone on the Senate Floor? Was Imistos aware of his badge's function, or did he just get lucky, like us? Does the Brotherhood have a headquarters, and if so, where is it? What will you do, if we release you?"
Presuming you haven’t moved anyone around, he hasn’t seen Imistos’ body, so he’s surprised when you mention him. It slowly dawns on him that Imistos must be dead by your hand, and he’s now in charge of team two, consisting of, well, him. If anything it entrenches him further as he’s the leader now.
”I’ll tell you nothing more!” he cries shrilly, ”My god shall preserve me if not in this life - in the next! And besides,” he sneers, ”You nobles won’t do nothin’. You’re weak.” He spits on the ground in apparent disgust, but it’s clear the adrenaline is just leaving a bad taste in his mouth. He looks genuinely frightened.
- - -
Anselm shakes his head.
"Spare me, Walther. Imistos already told us about Wyssilka. He's due to be granted amnesty, if what he's said proves true. Talk, and you might spare both of your lives."
Muri makes it a point to research this wretched corrupter of halflings. He wonders if Anselm can tell him anything else regarding Gixx, but decides to wait until they're free of agents.
Muri shrugs his shoulders. "It sounds like he won't offer anything else. Are we done with him, then?" Muri taps his Crook on the floor, blade at attention.
”Thamir Gixx is more powerful than your Taldan god Aroden. He’s dead isn’t he! Ha!”
”Yet Aroden built the greatest nation in all the world, he rallied entire races to his cause...what has Gixx done besides sent you failures to get captured by us?” Kort shoots back angrily stung by the assassin’s words.
Kort waits to hear the answer to Anselm’s question, but it’s clear in his own mind that this halfling deserves to die.
Let the gods sort him out.
"Spare me, Walther. Imistos already told us about Wyssilka. He's due to be granted amnesty, if what he's said proves true. Talk, and you might spare both of your lives."
He looks positively unsettled by the news, believing it, but he digs in firmly, intoning in a religious fervor, ”I await the night!”
”Yet Aroden built the greatest nation in all the world, he rallied entire races to his cause...what has Gixx done besides sent you failures to get captured by us?” Kort shoots back angrily stung by the assassin’s words.
”That which can be built can be cast down!” he cries shrilly, trying to keep it together. He begins to weep, a bit, through sheer fear, but there's a religious core to him that seems hard to break.
Anselm's head droops.
There's an irony to it. Though quick to stem violence on the people around him, he holds hope that even assassins like these may be redeemed. And yet, his current companions believe in summary execution.
And where would we take them, anyway?
"I'm very sorry you've been sucked into this cult. I can't imagine what's been done to you, to make you so. It is your last chance. Renounce truly the villainous path you have followed, and I will vouchsafe your safety."
He gazes at the ground, expecting no plea for mercy, nor quarter from Muri's crook.
Without an immediate and forceful renunciation from the halfling(s), Kort will help Muri enact proactive terminal sentencing. He won’t leave them alive behind them, even tied up, as he doesn’t want to torture the assassins.
When that is done, and loots have been looted, he will be ready to move on.
With their load lighter, Kamari steps lightly to the door and prepares to move forward.
Muri sets his torch down, so he can get a grip on his Crook with both hands. He didn't expect the halfling to beg for his life, not with his chosen path, a dark path filled with the threat of further assassinations of folk much like himself and those standing over the bound halfling.
"We have wolves, up north. We know that we'll lose some of our flock. That's just nature, and the wolves are smart. This halfling here, he's worse than a wolf, because he can blend in with the sheep, until it's too late. I respect wolves, because they are honest about their nature, but if I have a chance to kill a wolf, I will do so. Worse than a wolf, more so."
Muri brings his crook down on each of the halfling assassins. He tries to be quick about it. After cleaning his blade, he asks for the other two holy symbols, gathering them together, and tucking them away.
"I want to know more about Thamir Gixx." He says it out loud, as resolution. Should someone already have knowledge from which he can begin his research, so much the better.
Muri catches up with Kamari, happy to leave the ugliness of the underground behind him.
"Thamir Gixx? Hmmm,"
"It doesn't sound familiar at all...What an odd name for a god...uh, no offense, of course." Mama D looks about, as if expecting some disgruntled religious assassin to take umbrage.
Uninterested in participating and unwilling to witness halfling on halfling, Elen shakes her head, pushes forward and says nothing.
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Anselm stays quiet a while, also wanting to get clear of the underground passage. He is disheartened by his executioner colleagues, wondering what Eutropia might have thought. He follows, leaving behind the limp form of Dagio.
I will need to bring this up with Madame Lotheed, or perhaps Eutropia herself.
Eventually, he shares his knowledge and perspective about Thamir Gixx with the others.
"The Silent Blade promotes greed and unethical opportunity to the most disaffected members of our society. In particular, halflings who have suffered the trauma of slavery and other exploitation. Like any cult, his followers sew strife where compassion is needed. He is friend to Norgorber, Father Skinsaw."
He reflects. "There is the parable of the halfling slave in Cassomir named Nok. Every night, Nok's mother was subjected to the most unspeakable abuse. Every morning, his father was beaten if he did not thank the master for his generosity. In the afternoon, for sport, the master's children were encourage to spit on Nok, or worse."
"Nok prayed to Aroden for release, but no miracle came. He prayed to Shelyn to give him escape through the small beauties of life, but no amount of flowers could counter the ugliness of his life. He prayed to Desna for comforting dreams, but he only had nightmares."
"Finally, he prayed to Thamir Gixx. The Silent Blade whispered back visions of murder. Revenge even more twisted than the horrors enacted on Nok's family. 'Do this and you shall be free.' And he did, and he won his freedom."
"I pray that in Eutropia's Taldor, we and the gods themselves will answer the prayers of suffering folk like Nok. No one is disposable."
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Muri works his way steadily forward, listening to Anselm and his knowledge of Thamir. "So Nok didn't really have a choice? When the other gods failed him, he was justified in accepting Thamir's offer? He chose to inflict suffering and death on others' lives, rather than endure hardship in his own. That's an interesting parable, Anselm."
Muri slips into quiet contemplation, while Underfoot advances, then pauses to take in new smells, catching up with the party when the smell proves too interesting to immediately abandon it.
"There are always choices. And our choices are our own." Anselm's smile is both wry and sad. "You and I, for instance, we can choose compassion. We can offer less fortunate souls better choices."
"You can offer that?" Muri comes to a stop to regard the fey man. "You think that if we let them live, those halflings would have chosen to renounce Thamir Gixx? Walther sounded unwavering. And if he promised you he would, would you have believed him? If you did, and he killed again, would that death be on his head or yours?" The living halfling's eyes sparkle with genuine interest.
Anselm considers and says evenly, "To offer redemption does not mean to set a dangerous soul free. Sometimes it means offering choices again and again, while removing the choice that harms others. That is the job of our courts. Just as it is the job of our sovereign to declare war."
"Do you think he did, with that attack? Did Stavian declare war? Or is he no longer our sovereign?"
Anselm responds indirectly. "I believe our choices have been made already. Let us find our queen's champion."
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”I await the night, I await the night, I await the night…” the halfling murmurs over and over again as he awaits the blade. Some religious mantra no doubt. He refuses Anselm’s amnesty, and is cut down. Imistos makes no further noise as he too is killed.
The nobles are upset by the bloody deeds, but the note and unholy symbol are enough for the Abadarian Priest Zubari at least. ”There is evil in the world. Uncivilized brutes.” he says simply.
You descend the stairs and head though a nondescript hallway to another nondescript door as the party waxes philosophical. A few more twists, turns, and doors, and you’re back in the main Senate building, coming up in the kitchens. Your train of nobles voices a few subdued cheers of ”Huzza!” as they again find themselves above ground and on the whole - whole.
Leaving the kitchen, the stench of blood and viscera becomes overwhelming however as you make your way onto the Senate Floor. The nobles grow quiet, and everyone is reminded of what forced you below in the first place.
It’s a charnel house: the bodies of civilians, Lion Blades, military personnel, and even the Ulfen Guard (though not so many of those) still lie where they fell. A few combat-fatigued soldiers wander the halls taking records of the dead and watching over the bodies. The soldiers calmly direct you to leave the Senate building, which is currently on lockdown due to the recent “political turmoil.” You are not questioned. The soldiers seem disinterested in solving the question of who started all this, or perhaps that’s simply the job of another unit.
As you are escorted outside, you see some that you knew among the scattered piles of bodies. Copernia Vau, died apparently trying to protect the antiquities; Baron Nicolaus Okerra, a friend to Princess Eutropia; Pabrus Telecoum, still pinned against the wall next to his beloved library; Duke Leonard Centimus, trapped under his wheelchair, run through from behind; and even Lady Zariyah Clement whom you didn’t know well, but who will never again see the home she loves along the forest - are all among the scores of dead.
Once outside, Senator Plastion, a somber look on his face, says, ”I am a man of honor. Let me know where you’re staying and I’ll have my servant bring over your reward. No need for you to guide us through the streets I think.” he adds uneasily, perhaps more afraid of you than the town. You look around though and the city is indeed ‘up’. Though it’s 10:30pm or so, every house is brightly lit and people are watching through their windows worriedly. The city is awake, and frightened. The nobles take their leave.
The bloody assault on the senate hurls Oppara into a state of shock. Where only hours before the city was jubilantly celebrating the Grand Day of Exaltation, the streets now stand nearly empty. Instead of riots and chaos, an uncertain silence fills the air - citizens of Taldor are accustomed to pushing forward in times of crisis. Only the occasional pedestrian meanders about, many of them servants or attendants to nobles slain in the short-lived violence and unsure of where to go or what to do.
It’s very late on a very long day and fatigue is beginning to settle in. What do you propose to do next?
As they emerge into Oppara, Anselm recites a prayer. He spends a few moments with his eyes closed, divining.
Tell me, servants of the Eternal Rose, what has become of Princess Eutropia Stavian?
Which forces control the city this night?
How are things at my home?
With the danger seemingly over, Kort unloads his crossbow and stows it aside for the time being. He takes out his cane and again uses that to keep himself in the manner to which he is accustomed.
He looks around again, not certain what he expected upon exiting the lair, but certainly not expecting this. He yawns.
”I need to find a place to rest. And I hope it’s someplace safe. I don’t have much space at my place, and if we’re going to split up, we can try to meet tomorrow at some time, if we have to,” K’Aldrian offers stiffly.
As they are escorted out, Kamari will inquire with the guards as to the health of the king and princess, trying to express concern without revealing any support for either.
Though ready to drop, Kamari will not rest until she has at least scouted out the Dignified Repository. "Muri, do you think you could point me in the right direction. I promise not to do anything hasty until at least midnight. Hopefully Lady Lotheed will reach out to us then."
She will also think about where she might find healing for her lost strength.
In regards to their reward from Senator Plastion, she recommends it be delivered to Muri's home where it should be safe until we are able to collect it.
When Kamari offers Lord Plastion a residence, Muri doesn't object. "House Pelicourt, on Senate Hill. Ask for Mircene. She'll hold it for us, I have no doubt."
When Kamari then lays out her desire to press on, Muri chimes in.
"I'll go with you. I want to know where it is, too. Are you going to be ok?" The halfling's tone of voice is almost entirely sincere about his desire to accompany the swordswoman. "They poisoned you, eh?"
Muri and Underfoot pad along, doing their best to look non-threatening to the faces in the windows, the shadows in the door frames. He keeps pressing the inquiry about the Dignified Repository, until he's sure he knows where it stands.
If they're lucky enough to learn of its location, Muri inquires with Kamari again. "How close do you want to get? We do have to worry that Walther might have been right, about how many there are. And they're likely twitchy, given the evening's dark events."
"It's a little too early to retire, do you mind if I join you?" Elen asks, approaching Muri and Kamari.
She keeps her eyes peeled for the Désiré Ballet Company as they also try to case out find the 'Dignified Repository'.
"What are the odds that the 'Dignified Repository' turns out to be a hole in the ground?" she muses rhetorically.
You get a variety of images, but mostly confusion. It seems folks do not know where the Princess is, or even if she’s still alive. The town is confused and unsure on the matter.
Which forces control the city this night?
Again, your response is clouded and jumbled. The various military forces are all on alert, and everyone is pointing weapons at everyone else - but they’re also staying in their respective camps, barracks, etc. The best response really, is that no one controls the city tonight - according to the populous.
How are things at my home?
At first you get a flicker of a warm green wood, and then you gain pieces of information from within Oppara. Your shared residence here is as others in town. Well lit and fearful - but whole.
- - -
Kamari tries talking a bit to the guards, but they’re not in a talkative mood as they thrust you out into the street. They don’t say one way or another, but from the blank looks of some of them - they’re not sure either. She asks further for the location of the Dignified Repository, but Muri is unable to answer, not having that knowledge himself. He knows it’s in the Crownsgate District to the northeast across the city. But where exactly he cannot say. It could be hours of wandering the streets to pin it down specifically (or gather information as below).
Kamari knows of several churches in the city that might be able to help, though they are likely choked with nobles and others each claiming their own needs after this violent night. Lord Remilliard Kastner, who’s body you have not yet seen, would likely be able to cut through the red tape for you, but you don’t know where he lives (and knowing him a little, he’s likely at a church trying to help). Ragathiel certainly has a shrine, at least, in the city. Knowledge Local or Gather Information (and the time it usually takes) for more on that.
Elen, Muri, and Kamari go off into the city to hunt… There are few people on the street, though some have clustered in pubs and other communal areas - largely in fear and to seek comfort. So gaining information is more difficult (but a nice roll bypasses that concern). However, each of you please make two DC 10 con checks as you push yourselves to two in the morning on an already long day. Each failure brings 1d6 nonlethal damage, and fatigue (though it does not stack to exhaustion). You may of course stop at any time, even prior to the first roll if you wish. I’ll give you some info on the Repository when you have completed your checks, if you choose to do so.
Anselm conveys to his colleagues the information he has divined. "It seems that the various forces have largely bunkered down tonight, unsure of each other's allegiances. No one is in charge. Nor do the folk know about where the Princess has gone. Come, my home is nearby and safe. I can at least offer a meal and bath. We should rest and regain our strength."
Kort smiles and agrees to Anselm's generous offer.
"What would be good," he agrees. "I could stand to be off my feet for a while," he adds on stiffly.
"That it's close makes it even more perfect. Are you coming, M'Della?" K'Aldrian offers his arm to Mama D and hopes she will come and rest. There is much to do, but after a night's sleep.
"Neither good news nor bad news. That gives me some hope."
Kamari takes in the splitting party. Though used to working alone, she's found there is some comfort in numbers.
"Take care of yourselves and we'll be careful too. Shall we meet up at noon tomorrow? Unless of course Lady Lotheed calls before then."
Into the night with her companions, Kamari's young legs don't fail her despite the poison's drain on her strength.
With only half the party, and almost half her strength, Kamari is satisfied to find the general location of the repository unless there are any exigent developments.
There's no way Muri waves off the investigation, not with Kamari pressing on, despite her recent poisoning. If anything, it gives him the inspiration to marshal his own internal strength, hoping to blow on an ember until it's bright enough to place the Repository.
Every time the halfling turns around, Underfoot is ten paces behind, her body language suggesting that she is quite ready to turn around, once this strange hunt loses its luster. Muri only has to cajole her once to keep up.
After the first two hours, Elen yawns. "OH! My, where does the time go? I would like to continue this patrol with you, but I hear some sheep who are begging to be counted. See you tomorrow!"
She heads to her quarters at her cousin's house so as not to slow down her determined companions.
In the morning, she continues her hunt for the Désiré Ballet Company (if not already found) and upon finding it checks in.
for ).
Then eagerly departs to meet her companions and hopefully Lotheed at the cafe at 2pm.
The entryway and parlor of Bastri townhouse have the austere elegance of a consulate. Carefully devoid of any decor that could be seen as partisan, it is nonetheless appointed with the comforts befitting visiting ambassadors.
Anselm wearily greets the majordomo who opens the door. "Hello, Priscus. I'm sorry to bother you at this hour, though it seems everyone is awake tonight. My friends here and I require some spiced tea, cakes, a hot bath, and perhaps a change of garments. Have we cots or beds for them this evening?"
Priscus, a handsome half-elf getting on into his later years, nods at the guests. "Major Kort, most welcome. Ah, is Madame Lotheed with you. Mama D, I mean. Don't look astonished. Madame's kindness is well known to us here, if I may be so bold as to say. If you'll allow, I'll prepare your rooms and baths. Milord Bastri, shall I bring service to the parlor?"
Nodding, Anselm leads the pair into a cavernous room with an ornately carved marble hearth. Embers pop, calling for new fuel. He offers his guests couches and chaise lounges before sinking into an armchair that is too big for him. He smiles weakly. "Well, that was something. What was it they say about fools who wish for ordinary lives?"