Ketra isn't eager to contradict Malderra if she seems excited to act, so she shrugs when Rosa looks to her "Right, we'll stay in contact. The worst would be if they catch wind of us and decide to rush their plans. Though I'm sure there could be a lot of different pretexts for bringing your lancers in for the celebration. Considering it's such a big event." She hesitates and then nods. "I'm glad you're with us Field Marshall! Not everyone in power was as ready to take this seriously."
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Maldarra nods in acknowledgement of Ketra's thanks, but as your group turns to move on the Field Marshal's hand snakes out to seize Rosalind by the elbow. Her bright blue eyes lock the Watch Captain's and she whispers with quiet menace.
"Listen carefully, heretic: I am no bleeding heart eager to forgive and forget like Varvatos. How many people lived in Roslar's Coffer? How many deaths are owed to your lack of vigilance? Were there time I would see you court-martialed and driven from the Watchknights entirely, but it seems urgency is required. Do not fail again, or demotion will be the least of your concerns."
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"Then listen to me as well, Marshall," Rosalind says, cold steel creeping into her tone. "There is only so much a sword can do against a village-wide magical explosion. Or, for that matter, an army. The thing that triggered the last explosion was an enchanted wooden splinter . *Everything* in this city is liable to be the next device, capable of destroying all of us at at a moment's notice. If that does not terrify you, I don't know what does. You may not like me. You may say I am fully to blame for it all. However, *I* have lost everything. If I could have traded my life for theirs, I would, Iomedaean. I see their likenesses in so many of the townsfolk here, blissfully unaware of it all. And no matter what you think of me, I will do whatever it takes to stop the same thing happening to you - and them."
She takes a step back, our of her reach, and readjusts her gambeson. Now, I believe I should go."
Unless stopped, she turns to leave.
Ketra gives Rosa a questioning glance as they head out, as if to ask 'What got into Malderra's britches?'.
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"The Knights of Ozem are not without their petty politics and power struggles," Rosalind says, catching Ketra's glance as they enter the busy streets. "Some take great offense over the servant of a less established, foreign diety achieving a high military position. Or worse yet, one using abilities they don't fully understand. People fear the unknown. Truthfully I'm surprised it took this long to surface."
"Which reminds me... follow me a moment," She says, taking a turn back into an alleyway. "There is a gift from my patron I could share with you all. A bond between us that would heal your wounds from my life force rather than your own. I cannot force any of you to accept it, of course. But it would make protecting you all from harm a lot easier."
"I'm not one to turn down anything that'll save our lives. Thanks Rosa." She extends her hands to let Rosa conduct whatever ritual is needed for the bond. Once it's done she says "Alright, we've got a high-priority contact to meet."
Sanduro accepts as well, his relief plain on his face. “Have I mentioned how poorly suited I am for serving as our group’s primary healer? And how glad I am that you have taken on the role?”
Zsofia takes a half step forward. “Um. Well. I mean, it sounds nice and all, but will it even work on me?“
With perhaps mixed feelings towards the Hero of the Floodway, your group pauses briefly to gain the benefits of Rosalind's ritual before proceeding on your way. You navigate your way through the crowded streets of Vigil, struggling to appreciate the laughter and celebration around you given the shadow of the Whispering Way's plot.
In time, you find the address provided to you by Varvatos: a two-story collection of row houses arranged in a square shape, creating a small common space or courtyard in the center. It seems there's a gathering of veterans here--older men and women quietly gathered to enjoy some food and company amongst their former comrades-in-arms away from the bustle of the the festival. Many of them bear visible scars and worse injuries, including missing limbs, and grey can be seen in every head of hair. Your arrival draws little attention, as it seems handfuls of younger Lastwallers stop by from time to time to thank the gathered elders before moving on; it only takes you a few moments to locate Ranton Gandry.
He's seated near the center of the courtyard in the crisp white uniform of a Reliquary Guard, a cane resting against his leg and a tankard in his hand. He and those around him are listening to and older woman playing a small vihuela and humming a wordless ballad.
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Ketra can tell the importance a gathering like this has for the veterans here, so she's a little hesitant to ruin the experience for Ranton. However, he's one of the group's only remaining leads, so she waits for a moment where no one is talking to him, then walks up and taps him on the shoulder. "Excuse me. Mr. Gandry, is that right? I was wondering if you could spare some time to talk with us. We're here at the suggestion of Second Swordknight Varvatos."
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Wandering over to the older woman, Garret starts to quietly sing harmony along with her wordless vocalizing. If his performance works, he will start with words, singing and chanting about ancient battles and noble sacrifices, honor and loyalty marking the best qualities of the Lastwall veterans.
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Gandry waves you off with a vague smile. "Sorry to disappoint and the Second Swordknight both, young lady, but I'm retired and that's final. I'm proud of the work I did but it's time for these old bones to rest. I don't need the coin or the prestige, but I thank her kindly for thinking of me."
Garret's song draws some approving murmurs and a curious look from the the musician, who gives the halfling a nod and starts in a battle anthem, then a marching tune, then another ballad, and so on for as long as Fallows will permit her.
"You're companion's very good," one of the soldiers near the performance remarks, to a grunt of agreement from Gandry. He turns and gives your look a second, more serious and assessing look. "Alright then," he sighs. "What's all this about? Forgive my saying but you lot don't look like Varvatos' usual people."
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Ketra nods "Retired is just fine, we only want to talk after all. She mentioned you might know someone by the name of Gildais? We're looking for them. And we've been told they might be dangerous." She shrugs to the other soldier "No, we don't, I guess. But Varvatos didn't have anyone else to turn to for this, I think." She grins "I wouldn't pick us, if I was her."
She waves to Rosa to approach and show the emblem if needed to convince anyone.
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Garret falls silent eventually and when the song is over. The solemn tune has put him in a contemplative mood, with the old songs of honor and loss and sacrifice resonating with him in a new way. He starts mentally composing a dirge for lost Roslar's Coffer as he wonders how he can help now with the current mission.
Buying a round of drinks, he heads over to Ketra, Gandry, and the others.
Passing out the drinks he says, "Raise a glass to the memory of Roslar's Coffer," and settles in to hear the warriors speak.
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"Anything you know regarding this topic would be appreciated." Rosalind adds, showing her identification as she watches Garret play, nodsing at him when he eventually joins the table. "Your song reminds me of better days, Garret. I... wish more of us remained to hear it."
Between the singing, the drinks, and Garrets usual charm the old soldiers around the square have warmed up to your little group--all except Gandry, whose good cheer is replaced with stony hostility with the sudden finality of a falling portcullis.
"You're not with Varvatos," he announces curtly, grabbing his cane and pushing to his feet. "I don't know what you're playing at but I won't be a part of it. You should all leave now." He turns and strides away towards one of the row-houses, his companions all blinking in confused silence and exchanging puzzled glances.
It was the mention of "Gildais" that triggered Gandry's sudden anger, he definitely recognizes that name and is hiding something.
The anger isn't fake, but it's layered over something else--fear? Guilt? Gandry isn't acting or being deliberately deceptive, but something's got him feeling defensive and volatile. A light touch is needed here.
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"Something clearly bothers him. Shame and guilt, perhaps - like me," Roselind mutters, giving the aging knight a sympathetic look as he withdrew. "I'll try talking to him," she decides and slowly follows. Catching up to a retiree with a walking cane wasn't too difficult for a trained soldier in her prime.
"I'm sorry if our question caused you discomfort, Sir Gandry. Unfortunately, I too know of suchs burdens. Recently, the town I was assigned to was raided by the Whispering Way and destroyed. It is a regret I will carry with me forever," She adds, inclining her head somberly. "Still, I owe it to the fallen to try and make their losses mean something. The reason we are asking you of Gildais is not to pressure you, nor punish you for any wrongdoings you may or may not have done, if any. It is simply that the Cult seems to have a connection to that name, and it is all we have to go on to find more of its members supposedly active in this area," She explains, sticking to the truth without the more gruesome details of how everyone in the city was likely in mortal danger. "Please, Sir. Former Knight Gandry. Can you find it in yourself to aid your nation once more, and help us in this investigation? All we wish is to stop them from striking again. As far as we know, you are the only one with this information - the only one that can help us."
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Noting Rosalind’s departure, Garret goes back to entertaining the veterans, this time regaling them with a fanciful tale of deceit, betrayal, and….?teeth?…under a skull-shaped moon.
Ketra listens in to Rosa's sweet talking from a distance. Ketra's definitely the more direct sort, and more likely to go to throwing a tantrum if people are annoying or obstinate, and even she can sense that's probably not going to be productive here with Gandry. Instead, she moves to join Garret, keeping one ear on Rosa's conversation at the same time. She accentuates his stirring tale with her own stirring dance that punctuates each dramatic moment.
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"I'm sorry about your town, soldier, that's hard and never gets easier. I'm retired now, though, and before that I was a with the Reliquary Guard--it was an honor, but it was casual and easy work. I'm many years gone from field work and wouldn't know anything useful about the Whispering Way. If you'll excuse me, I, hrmph, need to check on my mother."
He turns and opens the door to his house, but pauses in the doorway, head bowed. Just past him, Rosalind can see a very old woman, thin and frail and eyes cloudy with cataracts, sitting by the window where she can perhaps listen to the music in the courtyard. She turns her head towards the door as it opens. "Ranton? No need to check on me you silly goose, go enjoy the festival."
Tension builds in Ranton's shoulders, and he turns back to the Watchknight and closes the door behind him. "Why do you think this Gildais person is associated with the Whispering Way?"
Ketra continues her dance, but glances toward the building as she does to see if Rosa's making any progress.
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"Because we had an encounter with an... interesting woman. Someone who helped us get here after our fight with the whispering way. Someone more powerful than I have ever seen, though also on the run, fighting an unseen enemy. Or so she claimed," Rosalind answers, lowering her voice to where it would be difficult to overhear from anyone not in the room. "She warned us that Gildais, some... Count who once served Tar-Baphon, had escaped his prison and was operating secretly in the city with his agents. When we mentioned this to Lady Varvatos, she knew you had spoken of Gildais in the past, long ago. So... if both are true, does that mean you have somehow encountered him or his agents before he escaped?" She asks, studying the former knight carefully.
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Gandry stares hard at Rosalind, as though willing her words to be untrue, but he doesn't find what he's looking for and his face crumples. "No...no that can't be true...they can't be the same person--it has to be a coincidence..."
"Ranton?" the old woman asks, her tone lightly concerned. Rose gets the impression that she's not fully well, cognitively. "Ranton dear, is she with the nice man who got my medicine? Please ask her to thank him again for me, would you?" Gandry shudders with suppressed emotion and he turns a horrified face towards the Watchknight--the expression of a man having a terrible realization.
"She was dying," he rasps. "No one could figure out what was wrong, they all insisted it was just her time. I was trying to, to reconcile myself to saying goodbye when a woman came. She worked for a scholar, and came with an offer..." Gandry trails off here, and it takes a visible act of will to force himself to continue.
"He offered medicine for Mother--a failed batch of the sun orchid elixir, that he said would give her time, could add years to her life. The woman, she said her benefactor G--" He swallows, guilt carved into his face. "Gildais. In exchange he just wanted a private examination of the Shattered Shield, in the War College. Five minutes alone to examine it, she said. I...I agreed."
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Rosalind keeps a straight face, trying not to judge and remain true to her word. It was a lot to take in, the implications troubling at best - what did the Cult want with the Shield? Wat it stolen? Defiled? Turned into the next explosive device? Each of those was bad in their own way.
But could she really say she wouldn't have done the same for her family, if there was no other way? She'd like to think so. Bhaekho would have demanded it, even. Death was only natural. But until such a time of trial actually came, it was easy to judge others - until you were in their place.
"...Okay. I will try to fix this, whatever they did to the shield. And I will attempt to keep your role in this unknown to the Law. In the meantime, do not mention this to anyone," She says, following a brief pause. "Before I go, I must know. When was this? How long ago did this woman come to you? And was there anything noteworthy about her? What did she look like, for instance? Have you ever seen her again, or felt that someone was watching you since?"
"...Your son loves you very much." She says to the old woman as she leaves.
"They didn't do anything to it," Gandry insists, though without any heat. "I checked myself the moment the window was over, everything was there and I've never heard from either of them again. This was two years ago."
The old knight closes his eyes during the questions about the woman, brow furrowed in thought. "She was tall, dark-haired and dark-eyed. All business, didn't smile once. Druman accent. Name was--Asara? Asandra? I can't remember. I never actually met Gi--the scholar, the night he came to examine the Shield he was cloaked but seemed ordinary, bland even. I haven't seen either of them again."
As Rose turns to go Gandry's hand snags her sleeve. "Wait. Someone else might...might no more." The guilt on his face is deeper now. "When Gildais came to examine the Shield, he adhered to the detail to the letter--five minutes, and then he left. Almost five minutes. My lieutenant went in just a little bit early, and she nearly attacked them before I intervened, saying they were holding one of the fragments. That couldn't be true, the wards were intact and the pieces exactly where they'd been--I guarded the Shield for years, I would have known if anything were amiss. Lieutenant Aubry wouldn't let up about it, though. We clashed a few times on the matter, and eventually agreed she should be transferred to a different posting. She left the Reliquary Guard and is a watch commander at a waystation on the Northgate Road, half a day's ride north of Vigil. That's all I know...I'm sorry."
Sun Orchid Elixirs are a rare "longevity potion" produced through a highly secretive process in the nation of Thuvia, far to the south. Only a handful of bottles are produced each year, and each is the subject of fierce bidding by kings, warlords, emperors. Vast fortunes change hands, and attempted theft or assassination to steal them are the subject of a great deal of dramatic rumor in elite circles.
The thing is...you've never heard of a "failed elixir" still having medicinal purposes. Thuvia doesn't release failed potions either--whatever medicine Gandry's mother has been given, it's extremely unlikely to be what he says.
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"All right. Thank you, Sir Gantry. I will convene with my allies on what to do. I hope you are right about the shield, but fear you are mistaken. Whatever a Sun Orchard is, it sounds really expensive. A suspected agent of the Way wouldn't go through such lengths if they didn't have nefarious designs on it. And none must underestimate the power of their magics."
Garret offers to help with Nobility…
Regrouping with Rosa, Ketra sighs "Poor guy. He just wanted to do something good for his mother and now he has to live with this." She thumbs the tip of her nose as she thinks about the rest of Rosa's info "I definitely don't like the idea that Gildais has been working here for more than two years. With that much time who knows what else he's been up to. Maybe if he had enough magic he could have gotten past the wards and swapped the shield with a duplicate... for whatever reason. Or they extracted just a piece. Or they even just used it to make a duplicate. We can't really know right now. Maybe Aubry will be able to tell us more to help us track the two of them down."
"It's not exactly evidence of a big organization yet, but we've got two people we're chasing now."
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"We need to figure out a way to detect any potential necrotic bombs, including penetrating any masking magic. If any of the pieces of the shield have been traded out, the bomb could be sitting out in plain sight at the War College," cautions Garret.
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"I'm not sure if we could recognize it as weird if we go to the War College, considering that no one else has. Unless you've got a lot bigger tricks up your sleeves than I think Garret..." Ketra considers "But going out of town to find Aubry is a big commitment. Why knows what could happen by the time we get back! I wish Varvatos wasn't leaving this just to us. With a dozen people instead of five it'd be easier to split up."
"Maybe there's someone higher up who could inspect the shield magically in ways most people can't. We could at least ask her."
“That aligns with my thoughts as well—I do not possess the means to penetrate any hidden wards on the shield, and I wouldn’t know if they were there legitimately to keep people from disturbing the artifact or indeed newly applied to hide necrotic emanations of a bomb. Hopefully someone we have met could be convinced to have the proper authority check the shield for signs of tampering or necrotic enchantment before we leave,” suggests Garret.
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"I think we can't afford a detour that long. At best, we would be gone an entire day. I believe it is much more important to have the shield thoroughly examineren first, especially now that we know is was very likely temperen with. We *need* to make sure it is not another explosive device as soon as possible," Rosalind reasons. "I can think of none better suited for it than Veena Helia and Lady Varvatos. Let's try and arrange a meeting with the dean to see if she can assist us."
”An excellent plan, Captain,” agrees Garret, his mind spinning with all the new and different people with interest in their situation. More than happy to let her take the lead, Garret adds, ”Just let me know who I need to sweet-talk and I’ll support you the best I can.”
"You think so Rosa? I was hoping that Varvatos had people and contacts for that, rather than us struggling to convince another big shot that we're not crazy." Ketra sighs "But I suppose we can see if Veena Heliu is someone who's inclined to take our word and our evidence seriously."
Sanduro glances up at the sun, trying to judge the time. "I agree, talking to this Veena Helia is probably the most direct way forward, if we've got time to look for her. But we also have Bruna's dinner invitation, so we can see the sketches she made for Zsofia's replica and maybe find out more about what she was up to ..."
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Zsofia interrupts the druid. "Right! We definitely need to see the real shield, or what's left of it, but why did I hire Bruna to make a replica for me? I've got some ideas about what someone could do with a fake artifact, but I hate not being able to remember! Death sucks! I do not recommend, would not die again." She glances between Ketra and Sanduro, then shrugs at the two duskwalkers. "I guess you guys know what I mean. Anyway, all the schemes I can come up with now would be much easier for someone who can walk through walls, just saying. But I couldn't then - so what was I planning?"
She breaks into a feral grin before scowling again. "Maybe I got away with it! Whatever it was."
Leaving behind the gathering of veterans, who seem to be a mix of curious and concerned for their friend Gandry, you move off towards the War College, which rests inside Vigil's innermost curtain wall top the hill called Watcher's Tor. As your pass through the Watcher's Gate, you realize with a start that the crowd milling about is a line with thousands of people in a loose queue winding its way up too the College itself--pilgrims, waiting to see the legendary Shield of Arnisant and other relics of the Shining Crusade.
As you reach the campus for the War College you find the crowds are even thicker, with numerous Watchknights posted around to keep the public from wandering into any buildings where they shouldn't be. The museum hall where the Shining Crusade's relics are absolutely packed with people, who prove reluctant to make way for your irregular looking group until Rosalind asserts her authority as an officer of the Watchknights.
Cramped and constrained as your push through the crowd, you reach the object of your search: a dome of shimmering but translucent light ringing a statue of a tall handsome human man in full plate armor, holding out his upturned hands as though he might be presenting a sheathed sword. Instead of a blade, a length of fine white silk is held in the statue's hands, and resting upon the silk are eleven fragments of shattered wood. The smallest is the size of a human hand, and together they loosely form the shape of a targe, though one piece on the left edge is notably missing.
In the legendary battle that saw the Shattered Shield of Arnisant earn its name, when the artifact broke one of the fragments lodged itself in the hand of the Whispering Tyrant, injuring the lich and badly disrupting his magics, forcing the undead warlord to flee into his fortress at Gallowspire. The remaining eleven fragments were recovered by the crusaders.
Next to the shimmering dome are a pair of tall broad-shouldered guards in crisp white uniforms and presenting halberds; despite their perfect posture and stillness they seem unbothered by the crowd, which manages a respectful space around them despite the press of bodies and the eagerness of those in the back to see. One of the guards' eyes flickers to your approaching group and he puts out a hand.
"No closer, please. Out of respect for your fellows please move on after a reasonable time, exit's to the right." His eyes stray to the rank markings on Sunstone's pauldrons. "No disrepect meant, Captain. Big crowd, is all."
"Big crowd. Is this just the festival or is it like this all the time..." Ketra muses, thinking to the story the group heard about private access being given to the Shield. She looks to see if the magic-wielding members of the party can discern anything interesting about the Shield and its status. While they're doing so, she asks the guards "What's the dome around it? Some sort of magic protection so people can't get close?"
”We need to speak to someone in authority here,” suggests Garret to his friends but loud enough to be overheard should the guards choose to take notice, ”Let us move on and make contact with those who can directly help us,” he adds, looking for a likely official-looking place to make their request known.
If it looks like he can do so unobtrusively before they get too close to statue and the guards, Sanduro casts detect magic and guidance. He would expect the entire area around the statue to be warded (even before the group sees the dome), but once he's close enough, the real Shield of Arnisant should glow like he's staring into the sun. If there's time, he'll concentrate for three rounds to get as much information as possible from the shards (again, assuming that if it's the real thing, he won't get much).
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Zsofia, hidden away in Sanduro's shared consciousness while in the War College, stares at the sundered Shield of Arnisant through the druid's eyes. She strains to remember anything about the scheme that led her to commission a duplicate of the artifact when it was still whole. Through her psychic link to Sanduro, she mutters ,
Are these the pieces of the real thing? Or do they come from my fake, that I paid for, with my money? If I stole the real pieces of the Shield, they're rightfully MINE, SOMEONE TOOK THEM FROM ME AND I WANT THEM BACK!
She pouts for a few seconds, then adds, Huh, I wonder if something went wrong with whatever my plan was and that's how I got killed.
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"I'm afraid we are not here for sightseeing, even on a festive day as this, guardsman. The temple has taked us with an investigation on Cult activity in the city, and it is highly urgent. We need to speak to the Dean, now , or someone who can help us get in contact with her. Our orders come from Lady Vavatos herself. Can you help us arrange this meeting?" She asks, showing her identification if needed.
Ketra raises an eyebrow at Rosa's outright demanding approach. Maybe these guards will fall in line, but it has to be pretty fancy, important guards for an important artifact, so she's not so sure it'll be that easy.
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Ketra's question draws a solemn nod from one of the guards. "The entire War College is guarded against teleportation, and the dome itself blocks scrying, attacks, conjurings, and all other forms of magical interference. More than that is a state secret." The answer has the feel of rote recitation, you don't get the sense that this guard has much personal knowledge of magic.
The guards exchange a look at Rosalind's proclamation. "This is the display hall, ma'am. Do you need a guide to the Precentor's offices? Our shift continues for another four hours..." The soldier trails off uncertainly, seemingly confused by the request, but he nods in agreement with Garret's suggestion.
Zsofia's stream-of-consciousness rambling makes it exceedingly difficult for Sanduro to focus on analyzing the magic--he doesn't make much headway, but he does recognize that there are multiple effects at work, each of them quite powerful
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Ketra smiles gratefully to the guards for their explanation. She doesn't exactly have extensive knowledge of magic either so it sounds as reasonable as anything else to her. After their response to Rosa, she stage whispers to the captain "The Precentor's offices? Is that right?"
She also engages the guards in conversation "You know I heard an awful rumor around town that someone had managed to get past those wards and barriers and all that around the Shield. With all the eyes and ears always on the artifact and with it getting so many visitors I can't imagine how that could have happened." She makes a show of considering something, then adds "Though I guess you hear rumors like that all the time, right? I bet around here there's even folk tales about people who made it past the wards to touch the Shield."
Ketra tries to lure them into gossiping and sharing any details they might know.
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"This is the display hall, ma'am. Do you need a guide to the Precentor's offices? Our shift continues for another four hours..."
Rosa looks from the man to her visitor's guide with a confused frown, then goes 'a ha!' and turns it upside down 180 degrees. "That would explain why the layout made no sense. Thank you, good man. You've been most helpful," she says, then heads straight the Dean's office once Kela is done making her small talk.