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The beauty of the fey-realm inspires Keats to recitation!
In Bophan did the Red Rose King
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Delt, the sacred river, ran
Through forests wondrous to man …
The artiste pauses and bows to Thadie and then Pip. “My apologies. My human senses do not currently convey the appropriate majesty of our surroundings.”
“That may change if I can find an appropriate melody to set the lyrics to.”
At the checkpoint with the grim-rose sentinels, Keats attempts to find his own rose bush within the cordon, pricks his index finger ...
Before returning to spill a single drop of mortal blood between the ironshod feet of Hoba Dukuza’s guardians.
The actor stands unbowed before the Guard. His tidings are a simple assertion, spoken with neither malice nor aggression. “Winter is cᛰming.”
🐺
"Good Thadie, is there anything in particular that preoccupies the Seelie Court at this time?"
Keats *bobs* and smiles. "Please understand, I enquire as a friend and potential ally willing to perform a service for our noble hosts."
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Packet tilts back his hat and peers up at the tall buildings and plants, his awe barely disguised.
”This is quite a fancy city you got. I quite like all the flowers. I’m surprised you get four seasons here though, this being a jungle and all. Are they more of like a metaphorical thing, and less of like an actual annual cycle? I quite like that too, mind you. I’m not much of a fan of the sleet, and snow, and freezing cold of winter.”
At the checkpoint with the grim-rose sentinels, Keats attempts to find his own rose bush within the cordon, pricks his index finger ... “OUCH!”
The guards and Thadie nod in approval.
"Good Thadie, is there anything in particular that preoccupies the Seelie Court at this time?"
Nothing preoccupies the court, to my knowledge. Only the fey incursions, but that is a minor annoyance.
Winter is cᛰming.
Spring brings peace.
”This is quite a fancy city you got. I quite like all the flowers. I’m surprised you get four seasons here though, this being a jungle and all.
Ahh look — I see Lelzeshin's carriage just ahead. Unfortunately, I cannot answer metaphysical questions.
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Indeed, the far end bridge to the castle’s island is just ahead. It's made of meticulously interwoven vines covered with blooming flowers, guarded by a whole regiment of Bhopanese soldiers.
A gold-plated, avocado-like plant carriage awaits, drawn by four horse-sized cicadas that occasionally let out a burst of sound before being hushed by the carriage’s driver. Thadie opens the carriage door and states, Fall brings wisdom.
In a deep, melodious voice, the person within responsds: Spring brings new beginnings.
Thadie bows and departs, leaving you with this new handler.
The inside of the carriage is luxurious, upholstered in what looks like a fine green pelt. An aardvark-faced man lounges within. He wears courtly finery that's made of purple silk woven with golden swirls; deep green fern leaves seem to grow from the shoulders and cuffs. His exquisite headdress is crafted from rainbow parrot tailfeathers.
You climb into the avocado-carriage and take your seats where the pit would normally be. You discover that the green "upholstery" is actually a mass of fungal tendrils that moves in luxurious waves over your bodies. As the cicadas hop into motion, the man speaks:
Please, do not be alarmed by the carriage’s fur — it’s cleaning you, removing the mud, blood, sweat — and, as you’ll soon notice, it also provides some basic grooming while adding a fresh mango scent to your attire.
Handy, don’t you agree?
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Your host flutters his hands. Oh dear, I’m forgetting my manners over all the excitement of your arrival! It is just so very rare for us to have visitors from beyond the island’s shores!
My name is Lelzeshin. I am one of the stewards of the Eternal Bloom and an advisor to His Majesty King Webhekiz, Fourth of His Name, Chosen Sovereign of Bhopan by the Grace of the Four Seasons. You are honored guests, and we now en route for an audience with His Majesty.
He places his palms up. Please, do not be nervous. I ask you: consider me your humble servant, here to help you learn about us Bhopanese and navigate our court.
He pauses and blushes behind the feathered mask. In full disclosure, I must confess something to you as well. My desires are not totally selfless, and I am personally eager to learn as much as I can about you as well.
The spring blossom must open to the wider world, that it may grow.
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So I need to respond about Fall...how best to do that? It is when all the young wild things are just starting out on their own. Probably not a good way to say that. What else can be said about Fall? I know!
“Fall forest fires burn away the dead brush allowing room for new growth.” Gurmire responds with a huge grin. He seems pleased he came up with something.
He does prod a little bit at the seat coverings, somewhat concerned about them.
Lelzeshin smiles and nods to himself. Well said. You are very quick-minded! I am sure you have the ability to find whatever it is you came here to find.
The carriage navigates the gardens of the royal isle; the orchid-castle itself is called the Eternal Bloom. You halt outside a massive dance floor below the Eternal Bloom, whose currently-closed flowers loom hundreds of feet overhead. You also see workers setting up decorations on a variety of levels adjoining the palace, up to very top several hundred feet in the air, where they hang on delicate vine-grown harnesses that cling to the stem of a massive orchid.
Here, a crowned man with long, batlike ears dressed in royal finery oversees the preparation of a lavish festivity. He pulls out a fan to cool himself, sending powder drifting from his wig.
You recognize this man as the face from the golden coin you found in the forest.
Lelzeshin leads the way and performs a punctilious bow, spills a drop of blood, and performs a ritual greeting of seasons (to which the king absent-mindedly responds and he watches a toad-faced laborer struggle with a flower arrangement). But then notices you…
The bat-eared king's voice is breathy and somewhat high-pitched. Ahh. The visitors we've heard of. We would know — another wave of the fan, another plume of powder spills from the massive wig — Who you are. Tell us, from whence do you come? And why are you here?
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Packet takes off his hat and bows to the king.
"Your Majesty, springtime brings fresh surprises. I am Packet Spoonshine of the Sleepy Detective Agency and these are my friends, Pip, Gurmire, Varret, Keats, and Zarindlara. We have traveled from Absalom via Quantium in the name of peace and cooperation to finally arrive at your magnificent city in search of information."
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Once Packet is done and the king has a chance to respond to the season thing, Gurmire steps up to more formally introduce himself.
Doing his best to copy the bows he had seen others give, he says "Greetings your majesty. As my friend indicated, my name is Gurmire. My home is in the city of Magnimar in far off Varisia. When not exploring the world, I work as an arson investigator there."
He then steps back in case someone else wants to give their own introduction.
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Although nervous that Thadie overheard the comment about dog-faced people, and Selmius Foster, there's nothing to do now. If Thadie knew they were Pathfinders, the King would soon follow suit. Fey at heart, she is in a state of constant wonder at the carriage, the sites, the turns of language. To Lelzeshin she turns to say, "I'm so excited that you want to be our guide to Bhopanese culture! But... how did we wind up as your special guests? Do you do this with all visitors?"
★ --- ★ --- ★ --- ★
When introduced to King Webehekinz, she bows low. The king already knows we are Pathfinders. Might as well come clean before we are asked about it.
"Your Majesty, we are so delighted to be here. I am Pip, a barrister from Absalom." Pip spins around. "To be your honored guests is a dream come true. Who are we?" Pip comes forward and speaks conspiratorially to the King. "We are Pathfinders, coming to face our own history, and learn from the past. We are here to learn from you. We want to learn about your culture and our history -- even if that history turns out to be full of tragedy, arrogance or misunderstanding. Wil you help us, Majesty?"
Before: Lelzeshin tells Pip they never get guests or visitors. Thus you are special — a novelty for the royal court, even.
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The king smiles benevolently at Packet, pleased with his metaphor, diplomatic bearing, and fresh mango scent. And autumn leaves fall, exposing the true shape of things.
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To Gurmire: Many arson investigators are pyromaniacs. We hope this is not the case here, as our city is rather flammable. Be welcome.
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The king beams at Zarindlara when she uses his full title correctly. This seems to be a good idea!
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Overall, however, he seems dissatisfied with your evasive answers until Pip offers him the truth. When he hears the term "Pathfinders" Webhekiz's strange mien darkens briefly. As he speaks, he carefully enunciates certain words and phrases, giving them weight.
You are Pathfinders? We remember the Pathfinder Society. We remember them indeed. We remember that wretched scoundrel, Selmius Foster. Not only did he and his henchman Adolphus kidnap our Princess Ganjay, they also committed a crime most heinous and unspeakable, for which Mr. Foster summarily paid the highest price.
That being said, we are a just ruler, and neither we, nor the enlightened kingdom of Bhopan, believe in holding people accountable for the actions of those that came before.
We are cognizant of this news putting a strain on our relations, but it is our ardent hope that you trust in the justice of our kingdom's previous actions.
In such hopes, We bestow upon yourselves an honor. Tomorrow evening, Bhopan will be celebrating the annual Masquerade of Seasons, and you are hereby cordially invited by the grace of the Bhopanese people to participate in our most sacred custom. Steward Lelzeshin will be responsible for you while you are our guests. Kindly refrain from leaving his side when you are not in your chambers. We understand that you wouldn’t want to be disarmed in such an unfamiliar place, so consider this a courtesy and an extension of our trust. Proper attire for the masquerade will be provided by our light-weavers.
The king turns away, busying himself with the masquerade's preparations. It seems you have been dismissed.
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Lelzeshin escorts you out of the king’s presence and into the palace. You navigate petal halls and fragrant passageways until you find yourselves in a massive suite. It features a central lounging area with moss couches a naturally-grown fountain. This central hub surrounded by five private bedrooms. Each bedroom has its own private bathroom complete with granite tub and running water.
As you look around, Lelzeshin clears his throat. Before we talk further, let me fulfill my duty to explain what awaits you. Tomorrow night is the annual Masquerade of Seasons. We will gather in the grand plazas of the Eternal Bloom and be merry; this, one of our most sacred customs, culminates in the opening of the Eternal Bloom’s flowers to the sound of the Grand Dance, its pollen being released to ensure prosperity and peace for all of Bhopan.
Know that His Majesty doesn’t expect you to actually perform well in the dance, as it is in fact a somewhat complex affair, especially for those not familiar with the proper steps. That being said, if you do rise to the occasion, you’ll be able to dance and glide among the spires of Hoba Dukuza, and even right beneath the grand aether if you’re particularly graceful!
The steward can hardly contain his excitement. How lucky you are, to be invited to the masquerade! You must work on your costumes — perhaps something that can show us more about your own lives or culture, this "Kyonin" and whatnot. Or something emblematic of how you're here, following in Selmius’s footsteps! We will help you fashion whatever whimsy you desire!
You must be tired. I suggest, however, that you mingle with the nobility in the garden tonight. Most of the citizenry go to be early, but us nobles love the moonlight and gardens! When you are properly refreshed, perhaps we can talk more.
At that moment, there's a gently tap on the door. Lelzeshin opens it, revealing a troupe of servants.
They deliver a collection of Bhopanese desserts: spicy frozen treats and a cake covered in intricate sugar petals that have a pronounced taste of fine alcohol. The desserts are decorated with silver accessories. Lelzeshin explains that the silver is for you to keep — a way for the king to show his favor. (One might also take it to mean that the king thinks you impoverished, and that this a genteel way to offer you funding without embarrassing either party).
Lelzeshin helps himself to a sugar-petal. You have done well indeed. So, will you come to our little garden-party tonight?
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Packet, who's never tried Bhopanese desserts before, takes one of everything, followed by a second of everything, just to be sure.
"Oh, a garden party?" He says with his mouth full. "I've got just the thing to wear."
Packet digs through his pack with sticky fingers and pulls on the blue sweater his friend Lirabelle knit for him.
"It's perfect for carousing under the moonlight."
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Before we talk further …
Too late!
Without a hint of modesty, Keats strips off his gear, pinches his nose and takes a running leap into the closest granite tub.
After luxuriating beneath the hot water for perhaps a minute, the Bhophan King’s guest breaks the surface, creating a small tsunami on the floor, before flipping his long hair off his face like its ebon seaweed.
“Your bathroom is dreamy, Gurmy! Sorry about the little puddle on your floor. I think it was there before I got in.”
With his arms against the tub’s edge, the swordsman leans back to do a little mental arithmetic. “Five bedrooms into six of us (plus Bailiff) doesn’t go. Seems some of us are going to have to share …”
“Bags NOT Varret! (No offense) Though, Gurmy ... you and Pip make a cute couple. Mind you, Master Spoonshine also works. I’d wager you’d all fit in one bed.”
tap, and Lelzeshin opened it, revealing a troupe of servants.
“Excellent timing! Stylist in here, please! I should like my face shaved, my hair ringletted, my fingers manicured, my feet pedicured and my chest waxed!”
“Oh! And do change the water and add some mango leaves, if you please. For tonight I shall frolic under the moonlight as Kurgess the Strongman, my good Lelzeshin!”
“A tale of an impoverished Taldan youth, saved by a Worthy in an Avocado carriage, and paraded before commoner and noble alike as a Competitor and Winner, might amuse the Good and the Great.”
“While your tailors set to work on my creation for the Main Event tomorrow night, my outfit for tonight’s dress rehearsal is simple enough.”
“Do you know what a toga is? I understand they’re very popular in Iblydos.”
“If not,” Keats flexes a bicep and invites a servant to test it out. “A pair of sandals and a LARGE fig leaf will suffice.”
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When the king mentions pyromania, Gurmire looks like he is about to speak and then thinks better of it and just nods in response. He follows Lelzeshin once the group is dismissed.
He smiles as Lelzeshin describes what to expect at the party. “Could we get someone to at least show us the dance steps? I would be interested in trying the dance.”
He looks at the deserts, trying to decide which to try. Finally he selects one of the frozen ones and seeing others do it carefully picks the silver out before eating it. Would have been much more efficient to put the whole thing in my mouth and just spit out the silver, but people don’t seem to like that.
When Keats tells him of the puddle in his room, Gurmire replies “But I haven’t picked a room yet! How can there be a puddle when I don’t even know which room is mine?”
Finishing his desert, he does clap at the idea of Keats dressing as Kurgis. “That sounds like a fine idea. Don’t forget the belt to hold it in place though!”
Looking to Lelzeshin, he asks “Could you go over some of the details of your etiquette here? When is it proper to make mention of a season? It seems to be at the end of a greeting, but if there are more general rules than that it would be good to know them. Are there certain accepted sayings for each of the months, or should we try to come up with new ones each time? With a large party and lots of guests, that could become quite a challenge! It being a jungle here, how much do your seasons change? Do you get snow in winter, and how long does it stay? Is there any preferred way to choose which season to start with when first meeting someone?”
He seems about to continue the stream of questions when he suddenly stops. Looking a little sheepish, he takes a breath and then says “I tend to have lots of questions, I should probably give you a chance to answer some now before asking more.”
Bailiff leaps into the bubbly bathwater with Keats. "Woooof! Wooof!"
Once Keats gets out, Bailiff leaps out with him and then shakes himself off, spraying the whole room with wet dogginess.
That was fun! Let's do that again!
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Pip looks around the soggy bedroom that both Keats and Bailiff frolicked in. "I guess we know which bedroom is mine...." Pip prestidigitates it clean to save the servants trouble. Then she asks Leleshin, "I'm okay with someone rooming with me, but sharing a bed can be awkward. If you got me a small cot, I could sleep there while Zarindlara or someone else took the bed. Otherwise, I could lay out my bedroll from Bailiff's pack."
"About costumes... I think that Keats has the right idea about keeping costumes simple. We won't be able to compete with the nobles who have been building theirs for weeks." She pauses, considering, and takes a bite of a sugary petal. "Are there any small people here? I'm wondering if my costume could make the most of my petite stature. Put flowers on my hair and dress, and I could be a rose bush. Or.... Would we cause any offense if we come as seasons? Gurmire and Packet could be Spring and Fall. I could be Summer, and if we dye Bailiff's fur, he could be an amazing Winter! Would that be appropriate, Leleshin?"
"I also want to learn the dance steps!"
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"Seasons could be interesting, but I'm glad you aren't having me be winter. Frostfur goblins are strange!"
"I was trying to figure out how to show the wonder of Magnimar, but dressing as a monument really doesn't work very well. I like your idea better, although we need to be careful here." Looking to Leleshin he asks "With all the importance your culture puts on the seasons, would our dressing as them be considered presumptuous?"
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You find another corridor behind a living wall made of lichen and succulents. It leads to a sixth room! The organic nature of the palace means it has many hidden nooks and crannies to explore.
Lelzeshin chuckles. You didn't think we'd stint you of a room here in the Eternal Bloom, did you?
Lelzeshin is thrilled for the opportunity to show you off at tonight's gathering of the haut monde.
As to the dance's steps, Lelzeshin seems confused. When you hear the beat of the song, the rhythm in the air, you will either know or you will not. No one here will judge you poorly if you fail to ascend past the lower floors.
The steward explains to Gurmire that the protocol for seasonal aphorisms is rather loose; nature is mutable, and thus so is the Bhopanese ritual. The sayings tend to appear at the ends of sentences as a matter of conversational etiquette, as the one's partner is expected to respond quickly and in kind. In the hands of a well-educated noble, these sayings often hold a deeper meaning, serving a range of functions that include court intrigue, humor, and weaponized metaphor.
As to the actual seasons themselves here on the island, they are mild but noticeable — chill rains blow from the far South during the winter, and the forest seems a little more threadbare in the autumn.
There are Bhopanese of all sizes here, and Pip can be accommodated. Going as a season might be gauche unless accompanied to the masquerade by the opposite season. Bailiff could serve for that.
Lelzeshin asks about these "Frostfurs." Were they other people visited by Selmius? Did they hold some dear treasure he sought, just as he came here to seek ours as well?
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“Mush, mush, my faithful friend!”
With his arms around Bailiff’s neck, Keats urges the dog to drag him round-and-round the hot-tub until a mini-whirlpool forms, allowing the pair to separate and drift about like autumn leaves, in a stream keen to reach the sea before it freezes.
“Tonight’s little soiree sounds like a chance to scope out the real movers-and shaker…
In between having strips of chest and back hair removed, Keats’ tone turns serious. “While the real biznis gets done tomorrow night.”
"I think our outfits are meant to reflect the generous, selfless or … … scholarly nature of the Society."
Keats b“OWs!” to Pip. "Our tolerance and willingness to embrace new cultures."
“Perhaps with a Society slant on a religion, Inner Sea hero, event or artefact.”
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Gurmire thinks a short time before answering Lelzeshin.
"Frostfur is the name of a goblin tribe I know of living up in the frozen lands to the north of Varisia. I do not know if Selmius visited them, he lived a very long time ago. Especially for goblins! I was told it was hundreds of years ago!"
"The Frostfur love of the cold, which is one of the reasons I consider them so strange. They also tend to be superstitious about writing and don't fix things others throw away. They are very different than the goblins of my tribe." Gurmire scratches his head. "I like warmth, which is why I wouldn't want to pretend to be a Frostfur."
"As for stealing cultural treasures, that isn't what the Pathfinder Society is about! If Selmius stole something from your people, I am sorry. We don't know what happened here with Selmius. That is what we were sent here to find out. We were warned he might not have made a good impression with your people, which is why we waited to announce our affiliation."
"Are you allowed to tell us anything of what happened? Evidently it was something really horrible."
"Selmius was one of the founders of our organization, and we know very little of him except what he wrote. If he did bad things, we would still want to know."
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As Keats is having his chest and back hair removed, Gurmire wanders over to him. "Why are you having people do that? Wouldn't it be better if you just lit the hair on fire and allowed it to burn away?" As Keats recovers from another strip of hair being pulled out, Gurmire adds "Seems to me like that would be less painful."
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Keats pats his friend’s hand rapidly. “Gurmy, beauty is pain. If one feels the need to be attractive, a little sacrifice is unavoidable.”
“Otherwise, one runs the risk of becoming … well … a goblin.”
“Wouldn't it be better if you just lit the hair on fire and allowed it to burn away?”
“That’s a most … efficient way of looking at it, my dude.”
Keats’ eyes flit up and to the left as he considers an appropriate reply. “Unfortunately, as I wish to continue luxuriating in this spa, I fear any spark may be extinguished before it has time to do the job.”
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"Lelzeshin, can you please sit next to me?" Pip pats the seat next to her. "Gurmire has it right. If one of our founders did something terrible... we want to know. I'm a defense attorney. I'm used to speaking truth to power, but also used to accepting when one of my clients actually did something wrong that they need to fix."
Pip swings her legs as she sits on the too high bench. "So... I know that the King accused Selmius of kidnapping Princess Ganjay." She pauses. "Maybe he and Aldolphus did so... but it is also possible that Princess Ganjay left because her heart told her that it was time to go. It was so long ago... but I know that Ganjay lived a free life when she came to my island, and she married Adolphus. I believe she had choices. Still, no story is simple. I want to hear the story of Selmius's time in Bhopan. Everything you know. Everything he did. I need a complete picture -- as complete as you can make it."
Then she puts some more sugared petals on a plate and hands it to Lelzeshin, "What do you recommend we wear tonight? I did not bring anything fancy in my packs. Do your lightweavers have stuff for us tonight, as well as tomorrow?"
Are you allowed to tell us anything of what happened?
Lelzeshin puts his hand on his chin. Hmmm… there may be something… I'm not sure… perhaps. Let me think about this. He seems deep in thought, almost distraught, as he nibbles on the sugar-petals offered by Pip. Her diplomacy seems to make him feel better. You are very nice people. Far nicer than we are taught about the Pathfinder Society.
What do you recommend we wear tonight? I did not bring anything fancy in my packs. Do your lightweavers have stuff for us tonight, as well as tomorrow?
He brightens at the thought of parties. Hmm? What to wear? We will provide you with nobles' outfits — they should be arriving shortly!
Another pause. We will, perhaps, talk more of Foster after the soirée. Perhaps while you're there you can discover what others really think of him. He leaves you to get ready.
A troupe of tailors arrives shortly after your handler leaves. They take your measurements and specifications for the masquerade costumes. The nobles' outfits they bring for tonight's gathering are much like Lelzeshin's, but in pastels rather than royal colors: creamy silks woven with silver and accented with bright round passion flowers.
Once you're ready, Lelzeshin escorts you to the garden. Here, under the moonlight next to the hedge-maze, fireflies dance as the Bhopanese gentry gathers in quiet circles, watching the stars and drinking brandy and honeyed wine. There's a rabbit-faced courtier in a red cloak and puffy doublet, a lady with delicate yellow moth wings patterned with midnight eyes (she's mingling with guests near the brightest lanterns), an owl-faced matron puffing on a fat cigar near a cloud of fireflies, a fox-faced dandy in a tuxedo carelessly holding a champagne flute… and more. Darkly-dressed servants scuttle about, ever-present and never-noticed, clearing the tiny tables and serving delicate hors d'oeuvres.
Lelzeshin introduces you to his closest friends — the Rabbit-king, the owl with the cigar, the moth lady, and the young fox. The aristocrats are thrilled — and perhaps pleasantly scandalized — by the presence of strange warriors and diplomats from the outside world. You'll be the talk of the court for quite some time.
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Gurmire starts with the owl-woman puffing on the cigar because she attracks the fireflies! He comments on them and how he thinks it would be so much better if they had real fire.
When one of the servants passes by he looks for something on fire, or failing that just still hot from cooking.
Next he wanders over to the rabbit-king and asks if his hearing is as good as his ears are magnificent. People always talk about goblin ears being large, but his are spectacular!
He starts his chatter with the moth-lady asking if the patterns on her wings can see. He doesn't expect it to be the case, but there are so many fantastic things out there he had to ask. They are very lovely eyes in any case.
The fox-faced dandy he complements on his tuxedo and how stylish he makes it look. He asks his opinions on the wine and generally just chatters with the fellow.
He is also happy to talk about himself and how he is responsible for finding people that misuse fire in Magnimar. This quickly leads him into talking about the Burning Lady and how one of her priests had suggested it was a good way for him to use his love of fire without getting people mad at him. He will gladly answer questions about places he has seen.
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Pip chooses a light dress with alternating panels of pale green and white silk, a flowy skirt that spins out when she twirls, silk dancing slippers, and teeny little lights throughout that twinkle like fireflies. Her vibrant green hair is tied up in a bun, with a long white feathers as an accent. She had brushed Bailiff's fur until it shone, and dressed the dog in a twinkling doggie vest with the same panels of green and white silk, and the same twinkling lights. The party enchants her. She curtseys to Lelzehin's friends, and speaks in Mwangi. "I am Pip, of Absalom. My ancestors crossed over from the First World long ago, but no one knows why. Tonight, looking around at all of you, I wonder why we ever left. I feel like a part of my heart has clicked into place."
She asks each of the fey, "Pray, tell me what I may call you. I know sometimes fey have heart-names and names-for-friends and names that are for common use... but I would love even a nickname to call each of you by, if you will allow me to do so." Pip asks them their stories, and about their responsibilities at court. She tries to be a good listener.
Pip happily talks about being a defense attorney, helping people who are scared find justice and closure, about her Westie dog, Bailiff, and about her family of Badger trainers in Absalom's Eastgate district. After a while, Pip tells them of their quest. "We are in search of a mystery, even if it brings us answers that we do not like. Did any of you know Selmius Foster, Aldolphus, or Princess Ganjay? I would like to hear more of what our founder did here -- joys, sorrows, friendships and betrayals. I want to hear it all -- good, bad, confusing, enlightening or just plain strange. If you remember anything at all, it would be helpful."
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Bailiff gently bumps his head into people's hands and wags his tail. He also discreetly eats any of the treats that get dropped.
I'm such a good dog!
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Packet, lighting up his pipe, and happy to see someone else enjoying a smoke, sidles up to the owl-faced matron. He is barefoot and sans hat, dressed in his hand-knit blue sweater and his favorite tweed pants, hemmed short to show off his stout ankles, the pride of any Hillock halfling.
"Good evening," he says with a nod. "Packet Spoonshine. Of the Kortos Spoonshines. From Absalom. Which is to say, not those Verduran Spoonshines, who we don't talk about. I mean, we do talk about them, who doesn't? Just not in polite company. I'm sure you understand."
He takes another drag from his pipe.
"Quite a nice party ain't it? Never really been to these sorts of things. Feel like I've been missing out! Don't know much about the Bophanese, aside from your wonderful desserts. If I were to ask you, what would you say is your greatest treasure? You being the Bophanese. Would it be your princess? And have you heard of Selmius Foster?"
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Once dressed, it becomes quite clear that Varret has little to no experience with formal dress. Once the servants are done adjusting buttons, cuffs, collars, and frills, he stands stiffly, afraid to moe lest he disturb some inconveniently-fastened piece of finery. Once outside, however, he seems to noticeably relax. Though he spends much of the time in the garden inspecting the wondrous plants, rather than talking to the people, Varret does find some opportunities for polite conversation. He hesitates to bring up Selmius Foster or the history of the Pathfinder Society here, however, for fear of stirring up trouble.
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Thankfully, Keats settles on a white linen toga, edged with a narrow band of purple and simple leather sandals.
“The formal dress of the Knight class of the Iblydosian Republic. Worn when their Upper House called ‘the Senate’, sat.”
The stage warrior’s dark ringlets are crowned with a wreath of red roses. “In honor of His Majesty, King Webhekiz, Fourth of His Name, and the Eternal Rose, who may be one of you ladies in disguise.”
Keats *bows* and is bold enough to kiss the hands of Lady Moth, Matron Owl, Pip and Zarindlara!
🌹
To the Foxy fellow, the rapscallion gestures at his precariously balanced flute. “Is that champagne? Do you call it ‘champagne?’”
“In the Inner Sea, that wine variety originates from a part of Galt that threatens to file suit against anyone using ‘their’ name! Have you ever heard anything so absurd?”
“I’d like to see them come after me! Especially if I’m hiding behind Pip at the time.”
🍷 ⚖
He is unabashed in his efforts to bum a cigar off Matron Owl. “I assume they’re hand-rolled? I’d love to try one – though I’d hate to deprive you from extending your wicked pleasure.”
“Though if you’ll take my advice ... Hide them when dear Gurmie’s about.”
♨
While flirting with Lady Moth, Keats injects his own view of the Pathfinder Society in the event conversation steers towards the shortcomings of Selmius Foster et al.
“I’m not about to defend everyone in the Society. It contains some real asshats – that’s for damn sure!”
“You see, Milady. The difference is …” Keats’ eyebrows knit as he considers the best way to explain.
“I adore the works of the Bard. However, I wouldn’t dream of lecturing Gurmy on the virtues of a formal education. (Though such a thing would not have done Varret any harm ;)”
“You see, as a Pathfinder, one can believe whatever one likes. Just don’t try to shove it down another chap’s throat.”
He gives a lop-sided smile. “We are taught to Explore, Report, Cooperate, with tolerance and political neutrality underscoring that creed.”
“Which makes this episode involving Master Foster most puzzling. Most puzzling indeed.”
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Gurmire notices that many of the paper lanterns here hang near the inflammable brush. Not up to code. Packet and the owl matron, Ka’aihue, stand nearby in a cloud of smoke discussing tobaccos and treasure.
Tinkers the rabbit-king has ears that ears twitch and rotate as he listens to many voices at once; he must adept at sorting through them all. He might be a powerful source of information among the court intrigues.
The fox-man, Bauer (pronouncer "bower"), is intrigued by the Burning Lady. You know, he had a distant cousin who was an arsonist and burnt down part of the Bhopanese slum district on the far side of the city.
The moth lady, Marichal, flutters her wings nervously at the thought of her eye-patterns being actual organs — "how horrible!" Keats provides her with great entertainment (his uncouth language in particular provides a salacious scandal to gossip over later).
★★★★★★
You discover four things.
1. Selmius Foster was part of some sort of strange society called the Pathfinder Society from a faraway island called Absalom. The group travels all over the world in search of priceless national treasures to steal.
2. Selmius and his henchman Adolphus kidnapped Princess Ganjay to force her to help them break into the royal vault. Selmius was executed by means of a very large and very acidic pitcher plant. Adolphus escaped consequences by playing upon the princess’s sympathies to appear to be just another victim of Selmius.
3. Adolphus was a terrible man. He seduced Princess Ganjay to earn her trust so he could use her to access the vault, and then kidnapped her.
4. Selmius Foster was able to enter the royal vault, which only people of royal blood should be able to enter. This must mean that Foster brought powerful dark magic with him, perhaps from the legendary enemy of their people: an evil fey called the Thorned Monarch, who nearly wiped out all of ancient Bhopan in the Mwangi Expanse before the remaining survivors retreated to their current island home.
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Zarindlara takes her inspiration from the forests of Kyonin, with a gauzy green dress with an interlacing leaf pattern over a brown petticoat. She wears violet flowers in her hair.
"This is such a lovely party, and you are all too gracious for being so welcoming after the past Pathfinder visit went so poorly. We would love to make amends for what he did."
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You gather in the luxurious suites. Tired, but refreshed and smelling of fine tobacco and brandy.
Lelzeshin sits on one of the moss couches. What an intriguing night. You know, I believe even I learned some things about Selmius tonight. You might say that it took Pathfinders following in Selmius's footsteps to unlock a discussion about our own histories, perhaps.
I am impressed with your diplomatic skills, one and all. I have decided to tell you what I know, myself. The official story is that Princess Ganjay was kidnapped by Pathfinders, who forced her to lead them to the royal vault — it was during the attempted theft of whatever they sought within that vault that that got Selmius Foster caught and summarily executed.
As a royal steward I have access to redacted historical accounts. The truth, as publicly redacted accounts of the time tell us, as well as other records of the princess’s personality, is rather different. In fact, Princess Ganjay desperately wanted to liberate her people from what she saw as cultural stagnation. She helped Selmius Foster and Adolphus with this goal in mind. When the group was caught, Selmius was accused both of kidnapping the princess and of breaking into the royal vault. Of course, the queen at the time had no desire to let anyone know that the princess was an active participant in the heist.
Was Foster a hero whose life ended in tragedy? The only way to find the truth, or any clue about what Foster was hoping to find, would lie in the vault itself. Pip, you spoke of closure and justice. I am sure you are yearning for a true sense of that here. As pathfinders, perhaps you all seek the truth about your own past.
If only we could somehow find out. Then, we'd know whether Selmius was a bad person or not, and what Princess Ganjay, the Opal of Bhopan herself, wanted for her people. But the vault is not something just anyone can check. Certainly not outsiders such as yourselves. Lelzeshin idly fidgets with the remnants of the sugar-blossom. Hmmm. Yes… it seems that Selmius's main goal on Bhopan was to find something within that royal vault. The key to understanding that history lies within our vault.
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Gurmire has a terrible time trying to decide what sort of costume to wear. He keeps coming up with ideas and then rejecting them.
Finally he decides to go with a costume modeled after the ones he has seen Varisian entertainers wear. Bright, lively colors. A scarf to twirl. Big dangly bracelets that catch the light. It is a goblin’s idea of what a Varisian wears as interpreted by the Bhopan tailors.
Loud, flashy, with plenty of room to move around in.
Some of you may have to ask what the costume is supposed to be, especially if you are familiar with Varisian garb.
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Frowning, Gurmire says “Why does it have to be one or the other?”
“Seems much more likely that they both partly wrong and partly right. We know a little about Adolphus and Princess Ganjay after they left here. They got married, telling everyone that she was a princess from a far off land. They built a marvelous lodge somewhere...think it called Quantium? Something like that. Place with lots of magic and water falls.”
“It sound like they make good life together after leaving here. That not sound like someone who kidnapped,”
“Selmius might have both wanted to help and looking for own glory. Part helpful, other part looking to be remembered. He certainly remembered here!”
“Our records also have gaps. We trying to find out what really happened, not how someone decided they want to tell it. If could compare records, might have better idea what really happen.”
“Not sure how to deal with vault. Maybe something come up!”
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Varret considers his costume for the following day as he wanders the garden. He considers this place to which fate and fortune have delivered him, on a strange island off the coast of a continent that is not his own, in the middle of an unfamiliar sea.
The sea....
He thinks back to his own sea-side home in the Calphiak Mountains, and he smiles. As the party winds down and the Pathfinders make their way back inside, he pulls aside one of the servants that had taken his measurements earlier and asks them to make him something that evokes the sea.
Yes the situation may be more complex. Be that as it may, you have learned all you can from the nobility. I suspect they will not be in the mood to talk history at tomorrow's event, and the longer you stay the more they will grow bored with the novelty you provide as outsiders, especially questions about painful histories.
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Pip is at turns fascinated and horrified by this sudden turn in conversation. She keeps feeding Lelzeshin sugar petals while he talks, and pouring him tea. And one thought occurs to her, over all of this, from all of her years as an Absalom Defense attorney.
We're being played, by either Lelzeshin or the King.
How many times had she defended some incredibly naive patsy who took the fall for someone else? Now Lelzeshin, the King's steward, wants them to invade the King's vault, after they've have been feted by the entire country, and after the King has gone to such trouble about talking about how Pathfinders were thieves, but he's giving them a second chance...
Oh Pip, how could you be so blind?
The worst part is that Pip trusted Lelzeshin, and viewed him as a friend.
Very carefully, Pip composes herself once more.
"Lelzeshin, thank you for coming to us with these details. I have more questions about Ganjay, the Opal of Bhopan. Did she take treasure from Bhopan without knowing? Was she herself a 'treasure' in more than a metaphorical way? Also, what do you think lies in the vault? Surely you must have ideas?"
Not wanting to tip her hand too early, Pip sighs and yawns. "It's been a long day, and I'm exhausted. Can my friends and I sleep on this question before we decide to commit to it? The truth is so important, but one should not rush heedlong into decisions. That was a mistake that Selmius made, and I'd rather we put some more thought into this."
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The steward considers Pip’s questions.
I do not know what lies within the vault. Ganjay took nothing with her.
I am a student of our histories, and while I had heard many negative things about Pathfinders in those official accounts, I’ve begun to doubt them after meeting you. Meeting people like you makes me suspect these stories were told to further an isolationist stance and keep us from learning of the outside world. We enjoy a wonderfully advanced culture here but have also been called "isolationist" at best, "xenophobic" at worst.
The royal family is vested in hiding the truth of what Foster, Adolphus, and Ganjay did. You heard the gentry's opinions on this matter. They are powerful and have done well to obscure the truth of the past. It was only through my own extensive research, with access to numerous sources that are available only to the most trusted officials, that I was able to learn as much as I have. If more records of Foster’s intentions existed, I would’ve found them.
Can my friends and I sleep on this question before we decide to commit to it?
He holds up his hands at the mention of making a decision. Hmmm? What are you to decide? I have asked nothing of you. I have only told you the facts of the situation and done my personal best to illuminate your quest for history.
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Yes, nothing but tell us the answers lie in the vault where the King explicitly does not want us to go.
Her read on him told her he was sincere... And what he said made sense, but every instinct as a trial lawyer is warring against the idea of going to that vault. Pip feels her head ache. "I am so sorry. You are right. You've given us needful information and asked nothing of us."
"I did tell you I was tired..." Pip sighs. "Can we speak more, at breakfast?"