Lord Commander Lundgren snorts. "Separately."
What follows is a perfunctory but still tedious interrogation, with each of you sorted into a separate side room and made to repeat your tales under the auspices of a cadre of Iomedaean priests and inquisitors. An hour goes by, then two, before you are released. You find that the Lord Commander has gone, but Second Swordknight Varvatos meets you all in the hall, an aide bearing a small lockbox by her side.
"The Lord Commander seems to have taken a dislike to you all, but he is convinced of your sincerity. As am I." She gestures to her aide, who opens to lockbox to reveal several potion vials and a slip of parchment.
"I have prepared a sending for the Watcher Lord to request his instructions, but in the meantime the Lord Commander and I have decided that it's likely we have the drop on the cultists--they are waiting for Quietus to return to the city, and while his notes were incomplete it doesn't seem like he was intending to be in Vigil in time for the festival. So we have a window of opportunity: find this Gildais and whatever other agents he has operating in the city, and capture them to prevent the activation of their weapon. Against the Lord Commander's recommendation I would like to deputize you as my agents in this matter. You would be acting on behalf of the Church, unofficially, rather than under the authority of the Watchknights of the Order of Ozem."
The high priestess raises one eyebrow questioningly. "I trust this is acceptable?" At your assent she nods and points to the folded piece of parchment, which turns out to be a name--Ranton Gandry--and an address.
"While you were indisposed, I remembered where I heard that name 'Gildais'--it was mentioned by a good friend of mine, Ranton Gandry. He's now retired but for twenty years he was the captain of the Shield Guard. I think he's set to give a speech during the festival today, but I certainly recall him mentioning the name "Gildais". I don't recall the details, but the two of them exchanged letters for time and they seem to have bonded over Shining Crusade history. I don't know that there's a connection there, but...perhaps."
The Shield Guard are a purely ceremonial honor guard that protects the reliquary that holds the Shattered Shield of Arnisant at the War College. It's an extremely prestigious position, as there are only ever twelve Shield Guards at a time; one for each of the fragments of the Shattered Shield itself.
Ketra rubs the end of her nose as Varvatos speaks, having been driven to the end of her patience by the tedious questioning, doubt, and general rudeness. These "high ranking officials" seemed to be eagerly looking for any excuse to pretend there was no issue. When Varvatos starts talking about deputizing the party Ketra holds up a hand "Wait, wait, wait. Why? We came all this way to give you a warning so people with power and resources and who know what they're doing can deal with this. People with armies and priests and all of Lastwall on their side. And you want US to investigate for you? That's like throwing a pebble into a rushing river and hoping it serves as a dam."
She crosses her arms, somewhere between infuriated and appalled by the response. Someone she was sure would put all her resources to stopping something truly existentially dangerous would just be foisting things off.
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Varvatos sighs. "You have been through so much already, and it pains me to ask still more of you, but the Whiteblade Festival has already stretched our resources thin. Including visitors from outside the city there are roughly one hundred and twenty-five thousand people in the city--every Watchknight is needed to keep order, every capable hand at my disposal is occupied with security, logistics, all the many considerations that keep such a large group of people safe. My fellow leaders are in a similar state; there are still patrols and garrisons to be maintained elsewhere--the tribes of Belkzen do not rest idle merely because we are throwing a party." She spreads her hands, her tone gentle.
"What would you have us do, Miss Driscoll? Evacuate the city? We would need time to organize tents, food, wagons, draft beasts. We would have to commandeer every ship in the harbor and even that would be a fraction of our needs. Should I leave a hundred thousand people cold and hungry, frightened and angry, poorly encamped outside the capital's walls? And there is no way to do so secretly--our enemies will know why I gave such an order even if no one else does, and you cannot promise me that they won't trigger their weapon early, or just walk into the tent city and do the same."
"I meant what I said: the cult doesn't know about you, since you eliminated Quietus' cell and came straight here. You are clearly capable and committed, and best of all you are available this very second. I would lose precious hours or days I don't have recalling my best agents. Do not insult me by thinking I would be deputizing you if I thought I had better options at hand."
Ketra shakes her head in a daze at what sounds to her like a parade of excuses from Varvatos "We came all this way and the best you have is us? You can't spare anyone? We don't even know the city. If you can't investigate, what chance do we have?" Pulling herself together, she raises her gaze and glares at Varvatos. "I don't know how to lead anything, so you can do whatever you want, but I know almost everyone in Roslar's Coffer died. I hope you're going to be happy with your choices once we mess up and everyone's in queue in the Boneyard."
Her hopes and expectations for Vigil thoroughly dashed, Ketra stalks out of the room to cool off outside.
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”I’m sorry, we have been under a lot of stress lately, and we can only see a deadly threat and a vulnerable populace, with most of us totally unfamiliar with your city,” starts Garret.
”I thank you for the supplies, and we could also perhaps use your help as we purchase useful items with our own funds,” he suggests, ”As well as perhaps some formal way of identifying ourselves as deputized authorities.”
”If you have someone who can assign to us to help us find our way in the city—or perhaps a city map—that would be useful as well. Maybe even a letter of introduction to Gandry so he knows we are not merely frivolous festival attendees,” he adds.
”There is something of a more—delicate nature as well,” Garret mentions, pulling her aside if she allows and speaking in low tones about their suspicions of the undue influence of the Lord Commander’s advisor, even to imprisoning Wallace, his son.
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Varvatos watches Ketra as she leaves, the Second Swordknight's expression tinged with sadness.
"Thank you, Goodman Fallows, that's a good thought. I'll make sure you're given pins marking you as inquisitors of the Sancta Iomedaea--they should be more than enough for our purposes, though legally you won't have the authority to command any of the Watchknights. As for a letter of introduction for Ranton and a map, that can easily be arranged."
She allows herself to be drawn aside with a puzzled look that quickly turns serious as Garret outlines the group's suspicions. "I'm not sure what to say here, Goodman Fallows; I believe that your concerns are earnest and well-intended, but it doesn't sound like any kind of crime has been committed--marital indiscretions, if that is what's happening here, are certainly unworthy of a paladin of Arqueros but not illegal. It may be that some mundane but inappropriate influence is being exerted over the Lord Commander, but at present I cannot help but table this until after the current crisis has been resolved." She gives the halfling an assessing look. "Your discretion on this matter is appreciated, of course."
”Of course, and thank you, high priestess. We have no proof other than our own direct experiences and Wallace’s treatment. In case this is a subtle cultist plot, we wanted someone in authority to be alerted, but as there is no direct proof, speculating further now that we have conveyed the concern to you would be…inappropriate,” assures Garret.
Ketra loiters outside the Swordknight's Office, her despair-tinged anger fading now that she's not listening to Varvatos's excuses. A pit of dread builds in its absence. Everything was being left to the five of them, and maybe Wallace too. It seemed impossible. And if she couldn't find Gildais and whoever else is working for him, then all of Lastwall could be put in the grave. She'd been counting on people in Vigil being smarter, more capable, more heroic. Somehow they were worse than lazy drunks at the tavern, leaving everything on the tab day after day.
Varvatos makes good on the pins and letter of introduction, her demeanor still kind but more formal now. Armed with Ranton Gandry's address and your deputization, you leave the Sancta Iomedaea behind and brave the crowds that are already thronging the city's streets.
As you pick your way through the crowds you pass by plazas where performers are putting on morality plays and historical dramas involving major evens of Lastwall history--the evens of the Whiteblade War itself are common, but major battles against the orcs of Belkzen and the Shining Crusade are only slightly less frequent. One plaza in particular is abuzz with excited citizens--it seems a speech by Field Marshal Ceto Malderra is set to begin shortly. A rising star in Lastwall's military, Madlerra's exploits in battle are the subject of songs and stories all around the country and those gathered here are practically vibrating with excitement at the chance to see their hero.
A raised platform for some performers has been cleared, and a roar of approval goes up from the crowd as a broad-shouldered woman with platinum-blonde hair and an elegant but functional suit of full plate armor steps up onto the platform.
Handing off his shopping list and the majority of his funds, Garret suggests, ”Perhaps some of us should hear this man out while the others get our shopping done?”
"It shouldn't take too long to at least hear the gist. And if this Malderra is as big a hero and public figure as they say, it'd be good to have her on our side in case convincing the Lord Commander to act properly gets complicated. At the very least we'll learn something." Ketra agrees to stay awhile and listen.
Field Marshal Malderra proves to be a tall and powerfully-built woman with the weathered face and scarred, calloused hands of someone used to taking direct action. The crowd roars its approval as she takes the stage, but quiets as she raises her hands for silence.
"People of Lastwall!" she booms out in a voice clearly used to shouting orders on the battlefield, her worlds clipped and clear even across the whole square. "We are gathered today for the Whiteblade Festival, to honor all those who have chosen to serve Lastwall and her people with skill, courage, and honor. Yet in its ori--" Ceto pauses here as a chant of Ceto! Ceto! starts up in part of the crowd closest to her, but she waves them down with a self-deprecating smile.
"Thank you, thank you friends. But I am far from the only hero to have given her all for our proud and noble country. It has not always been so, sad to say, for the festival we are all gathered here to celebrate has its origins in shortsightedness and strife, when Jesca Malvaney sought to put herself before her people. Though Lastwall survived the coup and came through stronger than ever, we must be ever vigilant against the dangers within, not merely those without. Myopia, despair, ambition--these are poison, as deadly as any blade to our strong, proud country."
The speech continues for another ten minutes, the Field Marshal emphasizing themes of vigilance and duty--and apparently including a few oblique swipes at rivals, though nothing identifiable to your group. As the speech ends the crowd erupts again in cheers and presses forward to shake the Malderra's hand. She descends from the stage to shake hands and accept well-wishes; the press of bodies around her doesn't look like it will be easy to get through.
"Well hello again!" A red-cheeked dwarven woman stomps up, a tankard of ale in one hand and the other extended towards Zsofia, inviting a shake. "Long time no see--Zoffi, wasn't it? How did the shield go over, lass? Did it impress your beau?" She waggles her eyebrows suggestively and laughs at her own joke. "Ha, after all the work that went you it, it damn well better've! Let me a buy you a drink and tell me all about it!"
Ketra cranes her neck looking for an opening to talk to Ceto, but when it's clear how big the crowd pushing in toward her is, she steps back "Maybe we catch her when there isn't a thousand souls clamouring for her attention..."
When a random dwarf directly addresses Zsofia, Ketra does a double take, before looking to see how Zsofia and Sanduro will respond. "Friend of yours?"
Garret’s eyes narrow as he sees the dwarf approach, and he tries to assess her intent…perhaps a new ally wishing to make any onlookers think she is just and old friend of the party’s? She certainly knows at least the name of one of them.
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"Sorry shortstack, I think you've got the wrong g--" Zsofia is halfway through blowing off the dwarf with a smirk and a wave, but freezes as she takes a closer look. She leans closer, confusion and wariness breaking through her usual insouciance. "Hey, uh...do I know you?"
"Nah," the dwarf chuckles. "But we have done business! Your shield, lass, your beautiful shield! I remember you were very particular that it looked just so!" Her cheeks are red from drink and good cheer but her arms are corded with muscle and her hands calloused from work. "Did it not make the impression you were hoping, lass? Well good riddance to him!" She makes an attempt at a comforting pat that the phantom sidesteps, causing the dwarf to wobble a bit. "S'plenty of strapping lads or lasses about today! You could--"
"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Zsofia cuts in, still staring at the dwarf. "What's your name again, Nosy Dwarf?"
Garret doesn't get much of a read on the dwarf at all, she seems tipsy but not drunk and more gregarious than dwarves' reputation would suggest, but he's distracted trying to keep an eye on Ceto Maldera still surrounded by her crowd of admirers.
"Shield? Zsofia, you've never used a shield, have you?" Ketra wrinkles her nose at this development. With all the mentions of important shields recently, it seems like it shouldn't be ignored. She asks "You made a shield for our friend here? What kind of shield?" She also hopes to hear the dwarf's name, in case it turns out important for later.
"No need to get snippy, lass, I can take a hint. Name's Bruna--Bruna Sootbeard, a damned fine armorer if I say so myself!" The dwarf harrumphs at Zsofia's rudeness but brightens when Ketra shows an interest.
"Oh, it were magnificent! A perfect replica of the fabled Shield of Arnisant, 'ere it's breaking! Took some doing though--had to visit libraries, and that shrine at the War College to make sure I got the details right. 'Tweren't easy, but my services are expensive for a reason!" She gives Zsofia an arch look an then leans forward to stage-whisper. "Mayhap that's why your friend's so sore, eh?"
Ketra shakes her head in disbelief at the frequency with which the fabled Shield of Arnisant is coming up in recent days. She's not sure what to make of it. Is it fate? Or...
"You said you had to research the Shield a lot? What were your most important references?" Ketra asks, thinking now to learn a bit more about it herself. She also, possessed by a touch of skepticism at the strangeness of this encounter, studies the dwarf carefully for any signs of "ghostiness". It would make more sense for Zsofia to be known to another ghost, right?
Garret considers what he might have heard of this shield or the person after whom it appears to be named.
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Zsofia glares at Bruna with her usual aggression, but Sanduro, Garret, Ketra, and Rosalind all know her well enough to see a rare hint of concern in her expression.
What's she talking about? Sanduro asks through their telepathic connection.
No idea. Just that it's important. Play along.
After a moment, she breaks into a wide grin.
"Well, damn, Bruna! Of course, I remember the Shield! I don't talk about the boy I gave it to - I scraped him off my boots like a dried-up horse apple a while ago - but I'm sure my friends would love to hear all about it! I know you put soooo much work into it, and the story of the original is fascinating!"
Garret recalls the Shattered Shield of Arnisant easily enough, as its wielder is perhaps the most famous hero of the Shining Crusade: General Arnisant of Taldor bore the relic that its claimed was made by Aroden Himself before He ascended to godhood. As the story goes: during the final siege of Andorak the Whispering Tyrant attempted to kill the general with fell magics, but the shield reflected this power back upon the lich, shattering in the process. Driven back into his final fortress of Gallowspire, the Shining Crusade was able for craft the Great Seals that imprisoned the lich within.
Bruna beams at the attention, more than happy to talk up her work. "Well seeing the Shield itself were the most helpful, but a-course it's in pieces now. Some nobles up in Taldor have ancestors who were in the Crusade and their journals included a handful of sketches from the time, when it was still intact and functional. Took a lot of time and effort to get them to share that, but Bruna Sootbeard never leaves a job half done! Six months of work it were, but I haven't had such an interesting commission since it left my hands.
As long as he and the phantom have been linked, Sanduro has hoped to find someone who knew Zsofia when she was alive and could shed some light on her death. It never occurred to him that the first time they’d meet an acquaintance of Zsofia’s, it would be someone who didn’t know the bandit had died.
And apparently, Bruna still doesn’t realize that she’s talking with Zsofia’s phantom. How drunk is she?
“Oh, um, seeing the remnants of the actual Shield sounds really interesting! Is the display at the War College open for visitors like us to see it? Or did you have to get special permission from someone? And do you still have any of the sketches of what it looked like before it was broken?”
This whole interaction seems so strange to Ketra that she takes a moment to poke Bruna with her finger and check if the dwarf might not also be a ghost or illusion or just the whole team going crazy. After she answers Sanduro's questions, Ketra adds "By the way, did you meet anyone else really interested in the shield while you were doing your research? Anyone who stood out to you, maybe?"
"Oh yeah, yeah, still on display--though I hope you like standing in line, with the festival on there's thousands of pilgrims hoping to take a gander at a legend." She leans forward with a wink. "Sketches are easier though, I've still a few copies in my workshop! You all should come on by! My niece is making dinner and there'll be plenty to share, you can admire the sketches and maybe commission a piece of your own if you've a mind."
Ketra's question draws a contemplative frown, Bruna stroking the long fine hairs on her jaw. "Stood out? Can't say that they did, friend--most all of 'em want nothing more than to talk your ears off about how great their own ancestors were in the Crusade. Fascinating stuff, I'm sure, but they can pay me for their time if they want me to listen to all that!"
"I suppose that makes sense. And maybe we will take you up on the offer to see those sketches, though there's a lot of the festival we're hoping to see as well." Ketra considers what Bruna mentioned regarding the remnants of the shield being on display. Maybe it was just rampant speculation, but the vision Wallace had seen seemed to emphasize its importance, not only in the abstract but in particular to the party as a whole. And the last bit about protection turned to destruction? Did it mean the shrine where it was kept would be the place Gildais would act against Vigil?
She shakes her head. It wouldn't do any good to try to guess that many steps ahead.
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"Ah, here you are. I apologize, I was... delayed following the questioning. As expected, I suppose." The inquisitor briefly shakes her head towards the others, perhaps deliberately choosing not to elaborate in the presence of commoners. "Hm? Do you know these people, Zsofia?" She asks the more solid than usual Phantom.
Beaming Bruna gives Sanduro a genial slap on the back. "Come on by! I've got a little place above my shop--"Bruna's Quality Shields, Smithy, and Sundries" is the name, even got a little sign--over in Sentinel Square. It'll be a bit of a squeeze with so many but we'll make do!"
Glancing back over to Malderra, it seems the Marshall has begun extricating herself from the crowd, though her progress is slowed by the occasional pause to shake another hand or answer a question.
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"Hm? Do you know these people, Zsofia?" She asks the more solid than usual Phantom.
Zsofia raises her eyebrows and opens her eyes as wide as she can, projecting innocent enthusiasm (as much as is possible for a dead bandit queen). “Do I know Bruna? Of course! We were just catching up!”
Spotting the Marshall, she continues, “And I think it would be a terrific idea to go see her fascinating shop! Right now! And, um, eat food. For dinner. Like people do!”
Spinning around, she rises up on her toes, points through the crowd to somewhere far behind Malderra, and shouts,
Sanduro puts a hand over his face and shakes his head.
While Zsofia offers the distraction, Ketra ducks toward Malderra to see if she can grab the woman's attention and get an audience.
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Seemingly satisfied by your agreement, Bruna laughs and waves and you start to move towards Malderra, the dwarf turning away to seek a refill of her tankard.
Zsofia's bellowed distraction draws off enough of the crowd's attention that a path opens to reach the Field Marshal, who's attention has been drawn to you by the phantom's antics. She watches you with a calm, even stare.
"Malderra, if you have a moment, we have news of a threat to Lastwall to share with you!" Ketra waves as she slips closer.
One of the four soldiers standing in a loose diamond around the Field Marshal steps to block your path, but you're not sure he need have bothered. Ceto Malderra is well over six feet tall, broad-shouldered and powerfully built, wearing thick and heavy-looking plate armor with a peace-bonded greatsword strapped across her back.
"That's Field Marshal Malderra to you, citizen," the guard snaps. The nearby Lastwallers who heard Ketra begin murmuring in consternation and concern; upon hearing this Malderra's expression turns annoyed.
"We of course thank you for your vigilance and concern, citizen, but have no fear that I will fight to my last breath to ensure that no danger befalls our glorious nation. Please make your report through the official channels, and the appropriate action will be taken, you have my word."
Though you were only half-listening to her speech, between that Malderra's style of interaction with the crowd gives you the sense that she's a bit of a glory hound. While not what anyone might call a "loose cannon" or rulebreaker, she tends to emphasize her own personal heroism and achievement first and enjoys the hero-worship more than a little.
Garret pipes up and says, "Amazing speech, honored Field Marshall. Your dedication to our safety is inspiring, and I am confident that we may all enjoy the celebration confidently and peacefully."
Though he addresses Malderra, those familiar with his diplomatic tactics may realize his words are for the crowd, meant to allay any incipient panic Ketra's comment might foment.
"May we approach and congratulate you personally?" he continues, smiling and holding his hands out in a friendly gesture.
Zsofia shoves Sanduro forward towards the Field Marshall and points to the Druid’s new pin from Varvatos. “Right. What my friend is too shy to say is that along with our congratulations, do you have a few minutes to talk about Iomedae the Inheritor?”
Sanduro staggers forward reluctantly.
“Zsofia! Oh, never mind …”
Ketra raises her eyebrows at Garret and Zsofia's roundabout approach. However when Zsofia points out Sanduro's pin she says "It is rather important." and makes a show of eyeing the pin.
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"My apologies, honored field Marshall," She inclines her haid as befitting of her station. "We are conducting an important investigation on behalf of the Church regarding potential Cult activity in the city, and Lady Varvatos said only you yourself can help us," Rosalind produces their badges (or equivalents) of temporary office. "Please. It has the utmost urgency , especially during these festivities. The lives of many innocents could very well depend on your willingness to spare but a moment of your valuable time. We will ensure your contribution to this investigation is well known to our superiors."
Garret's words and soothing rhetoric seems to settle the crowd, and at least partially do the same for Malderra. Her gazes flickers from the halfling to the pin at Sanduro's collar, though it lingers on Zsofia first--clearly the Field Marshal recognizes the phantom is unusual, if nothing else When Rosalind says her piece the Hero of the Floodway does a clear double take; despite Captain Sunstone's politeness something in the other knight's expression hardens.
Her guards turn their heads to gauge their charge's reaction, and after a moment's consideration Malderra waves for them to stand down. "I am always happy to speak with my fellow defenders of the realm--it is good to be reminded what we fight for. Come," she turns on her heel and moves away, two of her bodyguards moving at her side and the other two pausing for you to follow before the falling in. Your group marches for a handful of blocks before pausing in the shadow of Vigil's might inner curtain walls before Malderra rounds on you.
"This had better not be a waste of my time," she announces with ice in her voice, her gaze locked on Rosalind.
Ketra scurries to follow along as Malderra strides down the street. When she stops before reaching a properly secluded location, Ketra looks around for any spot even a little more private nearby. She answers Malderra "I hope it won't be a waste of your time either." though she thinks to herself 'I hope its not a waste of our time either!'. She looks to Rosa to take the lead, considering that of the group, Malderra only seemed to have eyes for the captain.
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The captain does her best to remain stoic in the face of the other woman's harsh tone. She'd gotten used to it in some degree, even if the forced impetus of having to prove herself time and time again had grown tiring, the anger at times boiling just beneath the surface.
But the stakes were too high, so she dons the mask. "I will get straight to the point. Perhaps from your position, you have already heard of the fate of Roslar's Coffer. If not, the town was completely destroyed by a necromantic explosion two weeks ago. The Cult used an unknown magical weapon to do it - it is unlike anything the Church of Iomedae has ever seen. And yes, I am acutely aware that I was assigned to it and that I failed to protect the township."
There's a crack in the mask as she can't quite help frowning over the next part. "Yet, in her wisdom, Lady Varvatos still saw it fit for me to conduct this investigation. From the corpse of their local leader, we learned that the cult likely plans to strike at Vigil next. He was on the way here - and of course he was. What better time to kill as many defenders of the realm as possible? What worse way could there be to strike fear into the heart of the nation and sow doubt in the minds or commoners towards those meant to protect them?"
The question hangs before she eventually shakes her head. "Of course, you understand the gravity of this situation and why it has to be kept from the public. But also why we need to make haste with our inquiries. You are a rising star among the crusaders and populace both, infinitely better connected than I could ever hope to be. Now please, all we have to go on now is a name - Gildais- who is somehow connected to the local Cult. Does this name mean anything to you? And if not, have you seen or heard anything off regarding the city's security? Any hint of potential Whispering Way activity locally? Anything at all would be helpful and could stop a disaster."
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Ketra nods, adding "I know it's a lot to take in, but after what happened to our town, we know it would be a mistake to take this with anything other than the greatest seriousness. I hope you'll see why. Or if not, will at least entertain the possibility that we may be right." She considers and then adds "Even if you haven't heard anything, if you know of anyone we can talk to that might be very well connected to goings on in the city, we would appreciate the contact."
The Field Marshal listens with a cold intensity as Rosalind lays out what happened to Roslar's Coffer and all the rest. Rosalind can sense the thoughts whirling in the Field Marshal's head as she takes in the information, gauging your group's truthfulness and weighing information. There's no flicker of recognition at the name Gildais, that Rosa can see; and regarding the weapon she doesn't seem to fully believe, or perhaps understand, the scale of the destruction you're describing.
"I have been patrolling the Flood Way and the forts along the Hordeline for the past two months, pushing back raiding parties from the Deathspitter and Blacktongue tribes--everything you're describing is news to me. Who else knows of this?" She scowls as you list off the names of the other leaders you've spoken with.
"Politicians and academics, pah. They will talk and debate and plan until it's too late--if the cult's weapon is so powerful, we must take immediate action. I have two companies of lancers bivouacked just outside the city, and some of the best scouts in Lastwall under my command. More than that, my influence can open a lot of doors and I've a few favors I can call in. If this Gildais is in the city, I can have him found within a day."
She points directly and Rosalind, then Ketra, then the rest of the party. "The Second Swordknight has deputized you already but you must keep me apprised of any new developments, and if you uncover anything pertinent bring it to me first. I'll see these scum exposed and destroyed before they can harm my city."
Despite the bold words, you get a feeling that Malderra is less certain about her one-day prediction than she would like you believe. She might be trying to reassure you, or just unwilling to show uncertainty, but either way the time frame offered may not be entirely accurate.
Oh, sure, we’ll definitely tell this … person first if we find anything, Zsofia sends to Sanduro. Right the frak away.
We need her help. We don’t have to like her. Not that you like anybody.
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"All right. Thank you, Field Marshall. If we uncover anything more concrete about the wherabouts of this figure or the cult, we will let you know. Lady Varvatos believes that our one advantage in this investigation is that the Cult might not know yet that their former leader is dead. If we were to unleash an army on the city without clear direction, they would definitely be alerted, civilian considerations aside," Rosalind says, glancing at her comrades to gauge whether they agreed. Despite her ego, the marshall seemed willing to help. She couldn't decide how to make use of her influence right away, but having made a potential ally seemed enough for now. As far as she was concerned, it was now time to meet with Varvatos' old friend and contact.