Konstiantina doesn't hesitate; she barks at Aiza to stay back, and then begins to descend the rope as swiftly as she can.
Rose is already loading Dignity's Barb and about to use another of her very limited supply of alchemical arrows when Lotti casts her distraction of brightly coloured... something on the Snake and its head especially.
She doesn't know if it worked, but does know that if there was ever an opening to be used, this was it. She tried to center herself, to capture that moment of clarity she'd felt beneath the Senate not so long ago, when she'd shot the strange wizard living in those caves with almost supernatural accuracy, which could only have come from the once famed Crossbow rather than her. And...
Hissing through his teeth as the serpent bites into him, but he keeps the presence of mind to bring his arms in close so the creature can't immediately crush his ribs.
Bigger, stronger, and in its home terrain. Not ideal. Marius' training keeps him from panicking as he twists his wrist, releasing the kukri stored in the sheathe concealed up his sleeve. As Rose's fusillade of explosive arrows land, the nobleman seizes the opening to try and slash open its throat.
Marius struggles to bring his weapon to bear against the snake's crushing grip and its stony scales - whatever this is, clearly it's not a natural animal.
At first, the experiment seemed to be going well; early generations demonstrated traces of gold in their scales, and as they sloughed away their skin with age, the cast-off scales contained enough gold to justify the alchemist’s efforts. However, the snakes grew in size with each generation, and soon the breeding pools the alchemist had created could not contain them. Worse, the amount of gold each snake produced didn’t increase, but rather seemed to decrease until only glittering flakes remained.
Frustrated, the alchemist redoubled her efforts and saturated the breeding pools with transmutative alchemical reagents, mercilessly culling any snakes that failed to produce new growth. While this did little to increase the mineral content of the creatures’ scales, it did invest them with a supernatural venom that causes victims’ blood to slowly turn to water. When the overzealous alchemist next came to harvest her treasured pets, the goldpebbles struck, killing her and escaping into a nearby stream; they can now be found all across the Inner Sea region.
Lotti's spell seems to take effect, the serpent shuddering as the glittering sand settles over it. If it wasn't currently chomping on Marius's leg it could perhaps use its tongue to gain awareness of its surroundings. But before it can decide what to do, Rose's arrows shred through its neck in rapid succession, severing its spine. With a final spasm, it releases Marius and falls into a the stagnant pool with a splash.
Konstiantina drops the last span of yards and dashes across the rocks to Marius's side. Her blade is half out of its scabbard when Rose's quarrels tear the snake apart; the paladin allows the blade to slide back home, then helps untangle the heavy serpent from Marius's limbs and eases him down.
"There, one moment, just let me..."
Her hands glow golden and she closes her eyes as Iomedae's healing washes over Marius's wounds and the bite marks.
"There," she says again, and sits back on her heels with a wry smile. Her gaze lingers on the bolts that shredded the snake's neck apart, and she raises an eyebrow. "Looks like Rose is absolutely unwilling to lose you so quickly after gaining you. Watch out, Marius."
Knowledge (nature): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (5) + 9 = 14
"A goldpebble," Lotti explains to Rose as she brushes the dust (and cat hair) off her skirt. She peers over the edge of the canyon, but makes no motion to descend. "Maybe they were once simple water snakes, but force enough chemicals into anything and something frightful's bound to happen. Let us hope our young lord of Stachys still has blood in his veins rather than water after that bite."
"Looks like Rose is absolutely unwilling to lose you so quickly after gaining you. Watch out, Marius."
Marius moves his newly healed leg experimentally, then nods his thanks to the paladin, grinning at the gentle ribbing. "Shelyn must've owed the Ebon Wings a favor, I'm smitten all over again." Letting out a shaky exhale as the adrenaline runs its course, Marius grunts in mild annoyance at the tear in his pants but picks his way over to the poor pilgrim.
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Her shots land true, and Marius appears safe, if slightly worse for wear. Rose lets out a soft, thankul breath and briefly closes her eyes. "Thank you, Lotti, from the bottom of my heart," She says to her earnestly when the gnome finishing her analysis, then attempts to hug her in a grateful embrace. "If it weren't for your spell, I'm not sure I could have-" She follows, but the last bit of information then suddenly seems to register.
"Let us hope our young lord of Stachys still has blood in his veins rather than water after that bite."
"Wait - his blood, to water!?" She throws a panicked glance over the railing and watches Marius and Konstiantina healing his wounds - thereby cutting any visual way to be sure. "Oh goddess, we need to check!"
A slightly frantic Rose makes her way down to the two knights and very little time is wasted before full doting mode is engaged. The noble does not seem to care or notice that her embrace of, and then search of him for lingering injuries, displayed a much larger degree of comfort with physical intimacy than previously shown.
There was a comical moment in which she then drew a dagger and insisted to Konstiantina they had to open him back up - no, not out of revenge for stupidity; how else where they supposed to be sure he was still red inside!? Lotti said it could be water and who knew what that would do to him! - But when he remains conscious, she finally relaxes fully.
"I swear, Marius..." She finally deflates, sighing in disbelief and head shaking against his chest. "Lisa sometimes jokes about your poor sense of self-preservation, but that doesn't mean you have to go and prove her right every single time ! Didn't the navy ever teach you to look at the water before jumping right in! And with a body right next to it, no less!? You, sir, are in so much trouble ," She balls her fists around his collar and glaringly pouts. "And owe Lotti and I a dinner when we get back! ...Actually, make that two seperate dinners."
She finally lets go and takes in the mangled trousers. "And who is going to fix that for you, hm? Is it you? It isn't, is it? Pfff! You had best make that an extra special occasion, then!"
There seems to be an 'Oh' moment when she turns around. "They saw and heard all of that, didn't they..."
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With a small, only slightly embarrassed chuckle, Marius gently but firmly takes Rose's hands from their grip on his lapels and gives the back of her fingers a quick, reassuring kiss. "Well Konstiantina already knows, but yes, and for everyone else I rather suspect the proverbial cat is out of the bag. Thank you for not cutting me open again, by the way."
His good health having been proven, he turns back to the corpse floating in the shallows, pulling her ashore and trying to ascertain what killed her, and what fed on her.
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Lotti raises an eyebrow as she observes Rose’s… dramatic behavior towards Marius. She makes a mental note to confirm her suspicions before turning to Aiza. “Good work, dear. I’m sure your mother would be proud to hear how you were the first to spot the snake and how you saved the lord from a painful death.”
Resisting the urge to reach up and ruffle the young woman’s hair, she instead scoops up a purring Wobblekins and watches the scene below. A smile tries to flit across her face as she hears snippets of conversation.
“…so much…dinner when…too* separate…fix that…it isn’t…extra special…”
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Safe from having his blood turned to water, Marius inspects the body. The puncture marks on it look familiar, matching in size the ones his own leg was sporting until very recently. It would appear that the unfortunate woman has been killed by the goldpebble.
A silver holy symbol of Abadar still hangs around her neck on a silver chain, and on her belt is a round scabbard with a strange, shiny circle inside. The edges of the circle are sharp, which leads one to believe it might be a weapon. The scabbard itself is very finely made leatherwork set with a grinning wolf face.
Up on the embankment, Aiza snorts with laughter at Rose's overbearing fussing, her fright at the sight of the giant snake half-forgotten. She beams under Lotti's praise, then scampers down the stairs to reach Konstiantina's side.
Once their own voices quiet, all those in the canyon can hear another, faint voice echoing from among the rocks on the eastern wall. After a brief search, the source is located - a human man wearing similar robes as the dead woman, huddled inside a crevice too small for the snake to reach inside, weak and shivering.
"Oh, thank the Father! I heard your voices and thought to myself, my prayers were answered, and valiant heroes slayed the beast."
He is wedged in pretty well, so it takes some effort to help him out, at which point it becomes apparent that he, too, has been bitten by the snake and the poison is affecting him. His fingers and lips are blue, his skin pale and clammy, and he is shivering uncontrollably.
Rose mostly elects to divide her attention between watching the rest of the pool and helping the search, her crossbow at the ready. There was no way someone or thing was getting the drop on them a second time, no matter how nice Marius could kiss the back of her hand or look at her with that smoldering intensity!
However, when they eventually find the weakened, shivering man and no beast comes for them in the meantime, she turns around fully. "Valiant heroes? Us? Me? It was more a series of forced struggles of life and death and us barely managing to scrape by them all... but thank you for the sentiment."
"Are-""You all right? Really, me? You feel the need to ask?" She briefly shakes her head. "Who are you, sir, and how long have you been here? It looks to me as though you really need to visit a cleric or local healer. Can you travel?" she asks the weakened figure, all the while looking around her companions for input, especially Lisa and Konstiantina. Essentially, everyone except Lotti and her were healers to a degree. But did they have what was needed to help this figure properly?
Rose sees neither threat nor treasure as she scans the water. The man in robes suppresses another violent shiver, answering through chattering teeth. "My name is Festo Mise, I am an acolyte to the Grand Bank of Abadar in Lotheedar. I was travelling with my colleague, Dradi Maladus, to look into the matter of Jambis and Baron Telus's absence." He looks past Rose. "I don't suppose...? No, she's dead, I know it. I've been here a few days, doing my best to delay the onset of the poison, but I'm so tired..." He lifts his head hopefully. "Archbanker Lady Paril will reward you if you help me. A-and, we cannot let Dradi be eaten by wild beasts. Please."
Helping the injured--pilgrim? Clerk?--out of the crevasse, Marius notes the discoloration of his extremities with concern, but the snakebite is an easier problem to solve.
"Hold a moment friend, a balm from the goddess," he passes a hand over the two deep punctures as divine magic begins to stitch to torn flesh back together.
"Several days! We'll get you some soup and a warm change of clothes as well, and dispatch a message to the Archbanker to inform her that you've been safely found."
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Lisa eyes narrow at the shivering acolyte and, as her friends rush to help, she herself stays back, her arms folded and her face contorted into a scowl.
"Oh and if our help is what you desire then shouldn't you be paying us? That is the code of you Abadarians is it not? 'Never do anything for free.' Or something to that end." The woman questions coldly with a slight smirk of self-satisfaction creeping up on her lips as she observes the shivering of the injured and desperate man before her.
"Cold are you? Strange. I'm perfectly fine even in an outfit such as this." She gestures to her own revealing garments before toying with her hair as she grins wickedly at the acolyte. "I could do the same for you, easily, right here and now. All for the fair and reasonable price of, oh let's say, a hundred gold?"
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Glancing between Marius, Lisa and Festo, Rose considered what to do. She found herself surprisingly agreeing with Lisa; The church of Abadar did have a reputation to refuse free healing to those who asked, and even if not she had personally seen one of them try to swindle the party on the way out of the Senate basement. Charging them gold for any healing required to escort *him* out of mortal danger? It was rediculous.
Then there was the fact that Freso's supervisor was half-eaten next to a pool of water worshipped for no other reason that nuggets of gold had once been found there. It was very, very hard not to comment Freso's church's obession with money and how it seemed to ideolize greed. Unfortunateky, he was still a link to a potentially powerful ally in the capitol city of their target.
However, if that was how they treated others, perhaps a little taste of their own medicine wouldn't hurt. And surely Abadar wouldn't object to teaching his acolyte a good natured lesson about not making a deal that essentially gave the other side a blank check - which wasn't his to write in the first place?
"Miss Lombardi, if you can, please use some of that additional magic to help, and then some more if you find it prudent? I will personally reimburse you the cost of doing such," Rose says, seemingly highly amused. "After all, Sir Mise, in his function as a representstive of the Church of Abadar, has just promised we would be rewarded by the Archbanker herself. And without specifying an amount or budget up front, nor placing a limit on what we feel is necessary to accomplish such or our tariffs for doing so! In fact, he has also already agreed by accepting Lord Erallan's healing just now - per Abadarran customs performed only after agreeing upon the price. And far be it from me to refuse such an extremely generous offer."
The merchant scion gives an almost predatory smile. "Yes, considering the import the bank would place on its truthworthiness, and how many acts we'd have to perform to get him out safely? Starting with killing that huge snake, of course, to say nothing of then getting him out of the hole, the healing
, future transport and stay, and various other costs. I imagine it will be a *quite* expensive slip of the tongue for the church - or a very significant favor. I am more than willing to consider this a worthwhile investment."
"And speaking of investments, you say you were looking into Jambis and Baron Telus' absense, right, Sir Mise?" She continues very pleasantly. "Did you ever find out what happened to him? If not, that information is something we could trade as well - if the price was right."
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Konstiantina leaves the shivering cleric to the others. Instead, she calls Aiza over to where the half-eaten body now lies beside the corpse of its killer.
"Take a good luck, Aiza. This is what our business leads to. As much as we may wish it otherwise, Pharasma calls to us all, and in the wilds it is often a monster such as this that comes to collect."
The paladin sighs and hauls the body out of the water. "I hope her end was a brave and valiant one."
For a moment she considers the dead woman, and then she looks sidelong at Aiza. "You've probably seen your fair share of death. Livestock being butchered, mothers dying at birth, villagers going too soon due to accidents. Maybe worse. But this is different. The path we walk leads us toward danger, not away from it. And as fun as that may sound in the stories, this - this, is what it all to often ends in."
The paladin rises from her crouch and claps Aiza on the shoulder. "If we're to avoid such a fate, then we must work hard. Starting tonight you shall begin training with sword and shield - or their wooden equivalents. You'll be on double rations to help you gain some weight and strength, and each morning you'll begin the day with a run carrying a loaded pack. It's time we started stacking the odds in your favor. And most importantly?" Konstiantina smiles. "We'll begin teaching you Iomedae's sacraments after dinner."
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Doing his best to suppress the urge to either grin or roll his eyes at Rose and Lisa, Marius guides Festo to the edge of the ravine and loops the rope around his chest just under his arms. "He's all yours, Squire Aiza! Let your mighty steed do its work!"
As the doubtless exhausted priest is hauled up, Marius steps closer to the others and drops his voice. "The gods smile on us, I daresay the Archbanker owes us a favor--we may have found the solution to several problems at once."
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"A powerful figure leading an equally influencial institution at the city of Baron Lotheed himself... one can but marvel at the options," Rose muses, grinning as she seems to make a tally of sorts in her journal. "Good work, everyone! But perhaps we should discuss this further only when we get back to Stachys?" She suggests, careful what to say with both Aiza and Festo with them.
Instead, she takes another look at the bridge, pointedly ignoring the screams of a dying man as a wild donkey tried to eat him, and wondered if the design of it could be improved upon in some way, like the water pump previously could?
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Festo Mise reddens at Lisa and Rose's combined logical onslaught, and begins to stammer. "O-of course! Your assistance will not go unrewarded! I do not travel with large sums of money, but I give you my word that the Bank of Abadar will reimburse you!" He looks a little crestfallen as Rose points out his breach of his church's tenets, and an expression that looks a little like reconsidering his life choices flits over his face. "You are right, of course. I was... scared. I did not consider my words properly." He clears his throat, looking away. "And I now begin to understand how some of those who come seeking aid from our church might feel. But, I am in your debt, and you are well within your rights to name your price for saving my life. I put myself at your disposal for however long it will take to repay my debt."
He shakes his head at Rose's question about baron Telus. "No, we were travelling that way when we had this tragic encounter. Archbanker Paril will be of course very interested in any information you can impart."
A little ways away, Aiza visibly steels herself to look at the body as Konstiantina bids her to, although she can't help but wrinkle her nose at the smell. "I'm not afraid of danger," she claims, straightening up with fists on hips. That's not quite the right lesson here, but she seems sufficiently somber, for now. That is, until Konstiantina mentions beginning her training, at which point her entire face lights up and she whoops, and again at the mention of double rations. As the group gathers again, the girl is muttering under her breath in stunned disbelief. double... rations..."
Climbing out of the canyon on the western wall is another set of narrow steps cut into the stone, steep and slippery, but everyone manages to navigate them without a fall, and soon enough they are underway towards Stachys once more. It takes a full day of travel to reach the former Betony demesne, and then some - it is well past sundown that they make it back to the estate.
On the way back in to Stachys, Marius commandeers the cart of a local they come across to more easily transport the body of the unfortunate Dradi Maladus. The group arrives back in the village with little fanfare, and Marius pulls aside the former Tribune to settle matters of where Festo will sleep and dispatching a messenger to Lotheedar to alert the Archbanker to what happened.
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There's not much room in Stachys for guests, so the Abadarian acolyte has to stay at the manor - another expense that is gleefully added to the tally. Aiza is awed by the huge building, running from room to room to look at the furniture and tapestries, marveling at this much space, and doing cartwheels in the entrance foyer. Finally, everyone is settled for the night and can enjoy some restful sleep.
The next morning, the breakfast table is set, and a thick envelope waits in the middle by the samovar, bearing the subtle markings of Martella's correspondence.
Word even in Cassomir is that your actions in Meratt have left a memorable impression on that stodgy old county; I can't wait to see what else you may yet accomplish.
I have met with various contacts and settled misunderstandings here in Cassomir, and I believe we have come to an agreement with Grand Duchess Tiberan. She is prepared to validate our seizure of the county, but needs certain conditions to be fulfilled. First, you must obtain the original charter granting the Lotheed family stewardship of the land. It will be kept in the library at the Palace of Birdsong, near my brother's office on the second floor, and I believe Gul Guisarne would carry the only key (or, more likely, hide it near his room, the weasel). Grand Duchess Tiberan also requires both Count Lotheed and his acting seneschal to abandon the property. She was nonspecific as to how.
Unrelated to Duchess Tiberan's needs, I have also learned that my Great Uncle Panivar has established a teleportation circle to come and go at will from the royal apartments in the tower. Panivar is an extraordinarily gifted wizard and a man utterly without remorse. I cannot stress how vital it is to destroy his access to the estate before word of this seizure reaches him in the south. Once you commit to the final step, I doubt you will have more than a week before he returns.
In other news, the situation in Taldor is not good. As we expected, several distant Stavian branches are making claims for the throne, but what is more concerning is that other nobles are consolidating regional power and trying to carve out their own little kingdoms. This fragmentation would be disastrous for the country, and the princess and I are working hard on trying to prevent that. I have enclosed a sketch of the current areas of influence and we continue to monitor how the situation develops.
Good luck, and may Taldor endure and thrive!
M.
A map of Taldor with annotations in different colours is also in the envelope.
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Lotti finishes setting out bowls of porridge next to the hard-boiled eggs on the table and heads back to the kitchen for the tea trolley. Soft tinkling interrupts her wordless work as teacups and sauces quiver in her hands before sliding into place on the cart. She takes a deep breath and puts both hands on the pot. In her mind’s eye, she reads Martella’s letter over and over. It’s too much, she thinks to herself. Too much, too fast, too far. How… How can I…
She doesn’t finish the thought, takes a deep breath instead and lifts the kettle with all her strength to pour its contents into the waiting teapot. Steam, filled with the scents of cinnamon and cranberries, washes over her face. She lets her spinning mind get lost in the cloud, lets the ascending sound of running water fill her ears, lets the warmth sink through her skin and into her bones, lets her eyes close for just a second, lets the vapors disguise the liquid collecting in the corner of her eye. I can’t keep up. It’s too much happening at once, too many things breaking too quickly. Too much...
Her hands slip. Her eyes open. The sight of the white tablecloth decorating the cart and hiding the contents of its lower shelves stained with splotches of crimson is too much, and while only a whispered “Veils” escapes her lips, the old woman can do little more than clutch the kettle and stare at the scarlet mess she has made.
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Rose goes rigid and uncharacteristically silent at the letter's contents. It takes her a full minute to think of a response, and even then it is but a whisper. "Goddess... this... is so much worse than I'd thought. Not two, but seventeen factions are vying for the throne?" "Will there be anything left of us? Of Taldor? Who will come to claim our remains?"
It is but politeness to the others that keeps her from stating it aloud, whether or not it was in vain.
"Don't think of it. Trust in the Princess. Don't think of it. She will find a way. Somehow!"
...Right?
The hand she used to drink her tea trembles slightly. "Okay. Okay... so our role in this is to be... stealing Meratt Country's charter, 'disposing' of Count Lotheed and destroying the teleportation circle in his Estate. Presumably in short notice."
Before this all blew up like a powder keg, and if succesful, hoping just dealing with the circle would stop Martella's ruthless greatuncle from coming after them for revenge anyway. After all, there was seemingly nothing stopping him from dropping by Stachys if any of it could be traced back to the group.
"Excuse me for a moment, I'll be right back." The words are mechanical and feel as though uttered by someone else as she leaves the room to... to do what? Get a drink? Just walk for a bit and think? Share this information with the home front and seek advice first?
But she hears a loud crash and instead veers into the direction of the kitchen. "Lotti...? Are you all right?" She tentatively asks, seeing the mess and the elder gnome in such an unusual state.
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Marius comes downstairs in high spirits, having just successfully bribed one of the domovoi to place an invitation to dinner on Rose's bedside table, but the contents of Martella's letter sobers his mood.
"If open warfare is avoided it'll be a miracle," he shakes his head as he surveys the map. "Carved up like a chicken." He retrieves his notebook from his breast pocket and begins scribbling. "We can only hope that the Princess as other teams like ourselves working the other factions--Pythareus will also be lobbying hard. Perhaps the smaller factions will trade concessions for support and things will consolidate over the coming months..."
Goddess, I wish the field marshal were here. Vaerli would know what to do.
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For those with a thorough education in the history of the empire and the noble families vying for power inside millennia-old structures, a few of the names are immediately familiar.
Briarsmith must be none other than Grand Duke Thestro Briarsmith, the ruler of the Porthmos prefecture, which is one of the largest in the nation. Porthmos straddles the Porthmos Gap, which serves as a gateway to the Whistling Plains, a vast prairie that separates Taldor from the many nations of Casmaron. Isolation from the heart of the nation allows Porthmos's various nobles to operate largely unchecked, something that the Grand Duke takes full advantage of in his position as a de facto dictator of everything east of the River Porthmos. Operating a secretive prison for his political rivals and crushing what few freedoms and rights Taldor guarantees its citizens elsewhere in the empire, Thestro Briarsmith has a reputation for sadism and ruthlessness.
Heskillar are an old and eccentric noble house with an ancestral myth about being descended from a brass dragon. The Grand Duke Borand Heskillar is the ruler of Krearis Prefecture, one of the places where violent clashes are taking place in the wake of the Exaltation Massacre. The most populous non-coastal prefecture, Krearis stretches from the Falling River in the north to the base of the World's Edge mountains in the south, and to the Verduran Forest in the west. The region sees frequent infighting among its earls and especially among its barons, sometimes exploding into bloody battles, over disputes and feuds that date back centuries. Grand Duke Heskillar is especially unpopular in noble circles, having taken a dwarven wife - Lady Grella of Taggoret.
Solari can be none other than Grand Duchess Destelita Solari, ruler of Ligos prefecture, the playground of Oppara's elite. Solari's ascent to power is only relatively recent, after her predecessor and cousin was charged with treason by the crown, and although many do not doubt that Destelita had a hand in that, none dare to speak out for fear that Lady Solari may find it within her resources to produce evidence of their own wrongdoings - real or imagined. Solari rebuffs even the most eligible suitors (both male and female) from across the empire, leaving many puzzled as to her plans to secure alliance and eventually establish heirs to the position she clearly expended a great deal of capital to acquire.
Starborne likely refers to gnomish senator Tanasha Starborne from Wispil, and while she very clearly cannot stage a claim for the throne, her name on the map likely reflects a perception that she is the leader of the gnomish faction and a powerful influence in the region.
Tiberan is undoubtedly Grand Duchess Cisera Tiberan, the ruler of the Tandak prefecture, whom Martella just mentioned in her letter. She has been ruling with a light hand in the 7 years since she has acquired her title, which is understandable considering that her uncle and predecessor was torn limb from limb in a series of violent riots. The previous grand duke had popularized a rumour that he had won his title as a war hero who started out a pauper on the streets of Cassomir, and while other nobles found the patently false claims entertaining, the grand prince was far less amused, eventually stripping the grand duke and his family of all titles and lands. As a result, the entire prefecture currently stands on politically shaky ground.
Vort may very well be a more powerful branch of baronet Caphridius Vort's family, although exactly what their claim would be is unclear.
The rest are branches of the Stavian family and relatively minor noble houses likely trying to carve out a piece of the pie in their respective regions.
"Lotti...? Are you all right?" She tentatively asks, seeing the mess and the elder gnome in such an unusual state.
“Oh, I’m fine dear. I’m afraid His Grace startled me.” Lotti busies herself with collecting the teacups off the trolley rather than meet the noblewoman’s gaze. “Don’t worry, I’ll get these cleaned up and brought out in a jiffy. Go ahead and enjoy your breakfast.”
“Oh, I’m fine dear. I’m afraid His Grace startled me.” Lotti busies herself with collecting the teacups off the trolley rather than meet the noblewoman’s gaze. “Don’t worry, I’ll get these cleaned up and brought out in a jiffy. Go ahead and enjoy your breakfast.”
The tailor shakes her head. "Come now, none of that. Here, let me help you," She opens a nearby closet for a fresh trolleycloth joins the gnome in the removal of fallen cups. "You know, I find it quite calming, just doing something mundane like cleaning at a time like this. It reminds me of home, in a way. Of how mother used to teach me stitching and knitting and we'd go make something simple together whenever I was upset."
Her nostalgic smile fades and she sighs. "Say... Lotti? There's something I've been meaning to ask you, but there never seems to be an opportunity. I... sometimes get the idea that you dislike me, or at least the way I try to do things? But you rarely if ever voice any of it. I just... feel like this situation isn't healthy for either of us. If there was an issue, I'd much rather we could be open with eachother and try to resolve it rather than have it fester. We're comrades, aren't we?" She asks, offering what is probably the kindest and most inviting smile she could muster.
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Lisa dabs her lips with a napkin, clearing whatever remained of breakfast as she, yet hungrily eyes the map of scattered factions which now made up the empire of Taldor. "Oh please, you really mustn't all be so doom and gloom about this. Surely you can see what I see here can you not?" She looks around the table with an eager smile, her glossy nails rapping excitedly along the top of the table.
"Opportunity of course!" She exclaims delightedly.
"Imagine if we had looked at this map and it was instead two solid factions. Ours and Pythareus'. And they were of equal size? that would be quite the tedious fight with no clear winner one way or the other. The situation is only worse if you imagine Pythareus' faction was even larger! No. many small factions means there is room to maneuver. Alliances can be made, such as with the Solari faction as I feel the Grand Duchess and myself have quite a bit in common. Smaller foes can be crushed and weaker factions vassalized and absorbed by our own ever-growing faction." Lisa theorizes giddily.
"Ohhhh and being able to rid ourselves of Bartleby once and for all shall be an absolute treat! Really it's just the cherry on top of this whole situation ohhhh I can't wait to see the look on his face! I've secured us an invitation to the Palace of Birdsong whenever we desire so that will be an easy in. As for the charter, I'm sure Raesilia can deal with that simply enough. Lotti can surely handle distracting our dear seneschal. And I shall have the pleasure of informing the good Count that he needs to pack his things and go... Perhaps with Marius as back-up and... and... Aiza! Would you stop doing cartwheels inside the manor? It's all very distracting!"
Aiza crashes to the floor at Lisa's admonishment, leaping to her feet a moment later. "Missus Mokei said to do exercise." But she stops her cavorting, and instead sneaks three buns off the side table and walks away as she is attempting to stuff a whole one in her mouth.
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"Say... Lotti? There's something I've been meaning to ask you, but there never seems to be an opportunity. I... sometimes get the idea that you dislike me, or at least the way I try to do things? But you rarely if ever voice any of it. I just... feel like this situation isn't healthy for either of us. If there was an issue, I'd much rather we could be open with each other and try to resolve it rather than have it fester. We're comrades, aren't we?"
Lotti stiffens ever so slightly in shock. Panicked thoughts race through her head. She’s unhappy. Stay calm. Breathe. Don’t make her more upset. Diffuse the situation. How? Tell her what she wants to hear. Profile: young, idealistic noblewoman with business and crafting experience. Tell her she’s so clever for figuring something out? Leads to increased scrutiny, no good. Tell her no, she’s reading it all wrong and reassure her fears? Too easily interpreted as falsehood, too risky. Everything’s too risky…
“Yes, we’re comrades.” The words emerge slowly, carefully, each waiting to see the reaction to the previous one before showing itself. “But we’re not equals. Every scale, every balance is tilted in your favor. If something goes wrong, you have resources through your family and station to come out mostly unharmed and be able to continue living as if nothing had happened. If we leveled accusations at each other, a judge would consider your testimony more trustworthy because of your lineage and station. You could tell Martella I am a traitor and she’d come to me with demands to prove my innocence rather than asking you for proof of guilt. Even our other comrades would be predisposed to believe you instead of me. You could stab me through the stomach right here, right now, and everyone would assume I’d done something to deserve it.”
Slowly she walks to a footstool and takes a seat. She waits until she can see Rose’s face and judge her responses before continuing. “So this is a risk to say these things to you. It’s a risk to criticize you or say anything contrary to your wants, to point out when you move too fast and don’t think through the repercussions of your words because you assume everyone has the same cards as you in your hands. It’s a risk, but I’m backed into a corner now and don’t have any other feasible options and everything’s moving too fast…” Lotti takes a deep breath, ignores the tears in the corners of her eyes, and looks up at the noblewoman looming above her, awaiting her response with the calm demeanor of an empress.
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At first, Rose just listens and elects to sit down as Lotti opens up. The smile does fade, however, as the list of accusations, implied or directly stated grows longer and longer. By the end of it, her gaze is locked on the gnome and her expression unreadable. But when the other woman appears to be crying by then, she exhales softly and moves to pour and then offer her a glass of water, along with a (clean) napkin from her robe's pocket.
"Lotti, first... thank you for telling me all this," She slowly begins, unsure where to go from there. There were so many things to comment on, and many elaborating compliments on Lotti's moment of openness sounded as backhanded insults when she tried phrasing them. "As such, I will be honest as well - to do less would be insulting. And for that reason, I have to say... that I disagree with all of what you just said."
Her tone was serious, straight and to the point. Her resolve, previously crumpled from the letter, seems to gather with each sentence. "First, you say I can always just 'return to my family' if something goes wrong. The underlying assumption seems to be, at best, that this somehow isn't a horrible outcome for me. And that leads me to fear I've somehow been unclear about what my life has been like. So to put it bluntly: I am property of my family. That is all. My successes do not count. My opinion does not count. I did not have property, nor do I count in the succession in any way. I am not expected to have a free will, and most of all not act in accordance of such. Simply put, I am and have always been a slave."
"So do not dare think, even for a moment, that I am somehow not committed to this cause. Or that I wouldn't do whatever was neccessary to have equality. I would die long before I accept 'something going wrong' and giving up, only to crawl back into that cage."
Perhaps aware that she was veering into overly harsh, she takes a drink of her own and her features soften to a degree. "...Next, you say that if we had a fight, even to extreme degrees where I could kill you for little reason, that the others would still take my side over yours."
She nods and looks Lotti directly in the eye. "That might be true. But if so, that isn't because of a difference in station between us. It is because, unlike me, you never tried to befriend any of them. At least, not that I am aware of. I treat them as I would like to be treated, and try to get to know them. I show genuine interest and spend time with them simply because I want to - because they are amazing people worth getting to know. I'm proud to call them my friends. But have you ever done the same? And if not, do you find it odd that they wouldn't trust you? I still hardly know anything about you, and the same is probably true for them. Who is to say you are not a spy who could turn on us at any moment? Could that be why you're keeping such a great distance from everyone?"
Silence lingers in the air as the noble catches her breath. Finally, she sinks back into her chair and the fight seems to leave her. "Lotti... I'm not perfect. I know I'm young and that I probably make a lot of mistakes. Some of them I still pay for every single day. In fact, I'm the second youngest of this group only above Konstiantina... and that one especially doesn't feel deserved. But... at least I give it everything I can. Could you not do the same? Please. You have decades upon decades of experience on any of us. So why do you insist upon letting us take all the decisions while your insight is locked away, wasted trying to act like a servant? Everyone here knows you are so much more than that. So why can't you let yourself be more? Why can't you be a mentor to us rather than a critic?"
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Lotti doesn’t blink as Rose’s voice rises. She doesn’t dare. The words of a familiar spell wait in the wings, ready to hide her from unfriendly eyes if things go badly. She waits, and listens, and does her best to keep her thoughts from showing on her face until the noblewoman is finished speaking.
“I don’t believe I mentioned you going back to your family,” she answers at last. “Nor was it my intent to call into question your devotion to this endeavor. You have apologized for your unclarity, and I do so now for mine.”
She pauses. The words flutter anxiously, but she does not release them. Not yet. “You have stated that it is my fault for not becoming friends with our colleagues. That it is my fault for not stating my opinions, for not offering my insights, for not making myself a place at the table not built for someone of my standing.” She leans forward to whisper, “That’s not a joke about my size, I’ll have you know,” before straightening back up. An air of authority and gravity settles around her like a shroud.
“You wish to be mentored? You’re not the first to come to me with such a request. When I was barely sixteen years old, a young woman much like yourself asked me to teach her how to make my mother’s sweetbreads.” Lotti’s expression softens, as if recalling a fond memory. “We would spend hours in the kitchen hiding from the cook and swiping leftover raisins and flour off the counters until we had enough to make a small loaf. We put it into a butter dish and cooked it ourselves in the flower gardens. But while we were waiting for it to bake, she wanted to draw pictures in the air with one of the burning branches. We both barely made it through the gate before the willow tree collapsed on us. When we were paraded in front of her mother, and she was asked why the family’s prize-winning roses were ablaze, do you think she took responsibility for her actions?”
Lotti lets the question hang in the air for a second. Two seconds. Three. “She received a slap on the wrist and a banishment from sweets for three days for her ‘lapse of judgement’. I received seven lashes, with an eighth for the inconvenience of her father having to get soot from the willow branch on his gloves. She said nothing as she watched. She said nothing afterwards as I limped away, fell on the floor, and was kicked out of the room by the butler. She said nothing when the family tossed me outside with the day’s rubbish because I couldn’t stop bleeding through my uniform.” Her voice is calm, academic, clinical; her expression, neutral.
“Now, let’s each imagine ourselves in that same situation now. What resources would you have available to you? How much wealth, how much liquidity would you have? How much training and education would you have to leverage to earn a living? How much capital could you raise to start a business to support yourself? How many times could you afford to have an entrepreneurial endeavor fail and still not have to play the delicate game of whether the moldy bread or starvation would kill you first?”
She pretends to lay down a single card on an invisible table in front of her. “That is how many mistakes I can afford to make before it kills me. I learned that lesson quickly, I learned it repeatedly, and I learned it broadly. Every interaction carries with it some risk, and that risk is not evenly distributed. If I choose poorly one time, I will find myself getting tossed out with the rubbish again and saying hello to the Lady of Graves.”
Lotti leans forward again. Her expression remains neutral. “You wish to be mentored? Then I ask you this: why you think I would still consider silence my safest option when interacting with you, Konstiantina, and Marius?” Her hands tremble in anticipation in her lap, her lips hold back the spell-words, her mind reviews her list of prioritizes possessions and their current locations, her eyes watch the noblewoman in front of her for any sign of hostility or violence. She’d never dreamed she would have this conversation with anyone, let alone a member of the nobility, but all she could do now was hope she’d wagered her everything correctly. Or at least for a quick and painless death.
Rose can't help but snort at the jab over the gnome's length length, despite how serious the conversation had gotten. However, the moment of levity is soon swallowed by a dreadful story, leading into an impossible comparison. She might have wondered how to even begin responding - except she already was.
"Oh Lotti... I am so, so sorry," She quietly says, embracing her when she finishes with more alacrity than might be expected. And she did, in fact, sound regretful - even pained. "You were treated horribly. And for that reason, you are now afraid of the three of us?" "Perhaps both of us are still partly living in the past."
Depending on her reaction, she would either continue holding her or let go. "Listen, I... know I can't say anything to make something like that right or easier to cope with. Because it isn't, and I can't fully claim I know what that is like. But... I can promise that I would never do such a thing. Granted, I, ah..." She looks away a bit sheepishly. "...May have overreacted slightly just now - and yes, perhaps I still am just a bit - but I did mean what I said earlier. In this place, this assignment, even outside should we part and ever meet again, I consider you an equal. I would never punish you for stating your opinion, least of all when I specifically asked for it. And even if I did have such power over you, I would also never punish you for frivolous reasons like soothing my ego. If not from my character, then from a desire to not endanger our goal."
The scion takes a deep breath. "I can understand, however, if you couldn't find it in you to trust me," It was a reluctant admission, a wistful coming to terms of having to part with a wish that was perhaps impossible. "I am the one pressing you, after all, and we both know there are things about myself I cannot discuss. But Marius and Konstiantina...? Please, I... would like to think they deserve better. When have they ever been anything except the pair of Paragon knights they are supposed to be, acting for naught but the good of the realm? Can you really imagine them flogging you for whatever reason, Goddess forbid, if you didn't actually commit some truly grievous crime that forced them to?"
She glances back towards the hallway that led to the meeting room. Vague wisps of conversation between Lisa and the others came from that direction, though it was hard to make out. "Look, I... don't know what else to say. Maybe it was too much, maybe it was too little to help you. But I trust our Friend, and I do think you're a very valuble companion to us. That is why I would still like to hear more of you, and would welcome it if you stopped distancing yourself at least, even if you chose not to share your experience. However, in the end, that is something I have no control over. It is a change that everyone here could help you with, but would have to come from you."
Lotti stiffens as Rose moves in closer. She barely breathes, fearful of a hidden knife or some other weapon concealed in the larger woman’s clothing being put to her throat under the cover of a tearful embrace. Only when the noblewoman releases her grin does she allow herself to relax ever so slightly.
“Lady Talbot.” She invokes Rose’s noble title intentionally, deliberately. “I have had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting far too many people who all would swear to Heaven itself that ‘they would never do that’, only to discover later that none of them could bring themselves to admit the silent ‘except for…’ following that statement. I have met far too many ‘paladins of virtue’ who would still swear that they were punishing me ‘for my own good’. You and I are both keenly aware that appearances are deceiving.”
“So imagine, if you will, that each person you meet in your life is hiding behind a door. You can open this door and see what kind of person is on the other side - but the act of opening that door may trigger explosives hiding on the other side and kill you. If the very act of finding out whether something is hazardous to your health can be lethal, how many times can you afford to be blown up before it kills you? At what point do you opt to not run the test and keep all the doors shut?”
“I ask you again to look at what cards do you hold in your hand. What resources do you have available to you? How much wealth, how much liquidity do you have? How much training and education can you leverage to earn a living? How much capital could you raise to start a business to support yourself? How many times could you afford to fail before it kills you?” She pauses, gives Rose time to think, waits for a response before continuing.
“Each of those cards is a shield, a safety net, a cushion to reduce the risk of any decision their holder makes. If you have many, a mistake is less likely to kill you. You can afford to open more doors, try more things.”
Her voice is quiet now - but hard as steel. “Do you see the cards in your hand? Now count the cards in mine. How much more risk is tied with every decision I make because I have no protection from its consequences? I reject your statement that change must come from me, that those without power must shoulder all the disproportionate risks of making places for themselves at an unfriendly table. If you truly wish to hear my voice, then I call upon you to make it safe for me to speak, to use your power and privilege on my behalf rather than blaming me for not having any myself.”
“So imagine, if you will, that each person you meet in your life is hiding behind a door. You can open this door and see what kind of person is on the other side - but the act of opening that door may trigger explosives hiding on the other side and kill you. If the very act of finding out whether something is hazardous to your health can be lethal, how many times can you afford to be blown up before it kills you? At what point do you opt to not run the test and keep all the doors shut?”
Back to a more formal distance, Rose frowns and thinks a few seconds before responding. "...I believe such an extreme point of view is only true if you are convinced everyone finds you easily disposable. It... is a sad and very lonely way to live, I'd imagine. But if you believe such despite the kind of people that sent you here, and how much trust and import they place in you by doing so, then I will probably be unable to change your mind. But then, I wonder, what would it take to make you reconsider such?" She sounds genuinely curious, though there is a hint of uncertainty, as she was no doubt wondering if the princess' direct endorsement wasn't enough, then who or what possibly could?
“I ask you again to look at what cards do you hold in your hand. What resources do you have available to you? How much wealth, how much liquidity do you have? How much training and education can you leverage to earn a living? How much capital could you raise to start a business to support yourself? How many times could you afford to fail before it kills you?” She pauses, gives Rose time to think, waits for a response before continuing. (...) "If you have many, a mistake is less likely to kill you. You can afford to open more doors, try more things.”
"That is not an easy question to answer," The tailor says, arms crossed as she begins pacing back and forth. "As we both know there is a lot of missing information. What led to such a situation on my end? Did father bail me out of something and lock me in an estate somewhere as punishment? Or was the family somehow destroyed? Am I on the run? Can I still expect someone to be searching for me? How much time did I have to see it coming and was I able to extract Talbot property during this scenario? Each of which is unknown."
"Yet, could I start over? Escape? Probably - eventually. My skills as an enterpreneur are in a very specialized field. I'd have to lie low, travel far away and seek new patrons. Could that go wrong? Of course - but then again, the same is true for anyone seeking to start over. Perhaps not everyone has equal talent in being a tailor, but I do believe everyone is good at something useful, and could make a living at such if they have the drive to succeed and a good work ethic."
"Alternatively, yes, I could also perhaps ask what connections I have among likeminded nobles to hide or take me in. But the most powerful of which would probably be willing to do the same for you, given who they are."
"“Do you see the cards in your hand? Now count the cards in mine. How much more risk is tied with every decision I make because I have no protection from its consequences? I reject your statement that change must come from me, that those without power must shoulder all the disproportionate risks of making places for themselves at an unfriendly table. If you truly wish to hear my voice, then I call upon you to make it safe for me to speak, to use your power and privilege on my behalf rather than blaming me for not having any myself.”
"None of what I'm saying is having any effect on her... our viewpoints are just too different," Rose thinks, noting the hard edge to her voice. Any argument based around idealism seemed pointless. Lotti was just too convinced she was disposable and too convinced she herself was much more powerful than she probably was. Perhaps it was to be expected given her traumatic youth experiences based around abuse of power by nobles.
But they could still do business, perhaps. The last line gave a faint hope that some sort of deeper cooperation was still possible.
"You mean to say you have a price?" Rose states matter-of-factly, adapting to the conversational tone, then nods. "Then please specify your terms. What is it exactly you wish of me? Am I correct in assuming you want me to wield whatever influence I have over the Opparan courts to fight for the basic rights of servants? If so, for how long, or until what is achieved, and what exactly will I receive in return?" She looks at Lotti expectantly.
Lotti sighs heavily and places a small hand over Rose’s. “Contracts are for those who can enforce them.” She takes a moment to collect herself, then continues. “You have made your intentions of keeping my safety clear, and your actions since we have known each other speak to your credit. You have asked me to be more forthcoming with my insights. To speak rather than hold my silence. To be brave. So when the choice presents itself in the days to come, I will try to choose that path.”
She brings her other hand up from below to cup the noblewoman’s hand in hers. “But I also would ask that you consider with intent what I have said here. That you take as much time as you need to reach an honest resolution.” She hesitates, glances at the floor before back at her colleague’s face. “And… I would ask for your insights. On, how, you work on such a faster pace than I am used to. And things are moving too quickly for my usual methods to remain effective. How do you… do it?” She smiles gently, with an air of helplessness.
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She brings her other hand up from below to cup the noblewoman’s hand in hers. “But I also would ask that you consider with intent what I have said here. That you take as much time as you need to reach an honest resolution.”
The unexpected gesture ignites a spark of remorse and Rose's posture softens. "I've handled this conversation very poorly..." She thinks as the Elder gnome drops her more icy tone and instead takes her hand in placating fashion. "I didn't empathize with her trauma nearly enough; instead we wound up arguing over who had it worse, which is a pointless discussion. No matter which side is 'correct' - if that could even be established - it still didn't make the others' hardship any less bad. Worse, perhaps, is that such an argument had almost driven us further apart rather than bringing us closer together. And for what? Pride over being able to claim superior victimhood?"
Any of her etiquette tutors, perhaps even Mother herself, would have given her a stern lecture afterwards, and it would probably be deserved. "I need to grow up. I can't afford these kinds of mistakes at such critical moments, not when allies are few and so many people are depending on us... am I really capable enough to be here?"
She elects to nod earnestly, trying project an image that everything was fine and under control. Doubt was for later and private reflection. "All right. In that case, a return promise - I will do what I can on fight such abuse of power, though I freely admit I can only do so much alone. The primogentiture case is still ongoing, for one, and took much political maneuvering - money, time and effort - to get one major alteration to this law past the Senate. I imagine a plan will have to be made along the way. Information on such cases will have to be gathered until a time comes where we are powerful enough that our influence can steer a similar change. Will you help me with such, until then?"
She brings her other hand up from below to cup the noblewoman’s hand in hers. “And… I would ask for your insights. On, how, you work on such a faster pace than I am used to. And things are moving too quickly for my usual methods to remain effective. How do you… do it?” She smiles gently, with an air of helplessness.
She chuckles. "Careful, Lotti, or you may just make me feel like I know what I'm doing." Her grin fades as she tries to visualize the painter's fever dream that was the political landscape map of the nation. "As to your other question... I try to take everything in stride, acting on intuition, experience and available information as I go. Now that the shock of it has passed, I reckon most small factions will eventually see that they have little to no chance at either independance or victory. They have just too many enemies and not enough public support. Both Eutropia and Pythareus were and probably still are highly popular, and have the largest number of lands still loyal to them. As such, the smaller factions will have to ally with others, bartering what they can offer and want."
She gazes through the window, glancing at the countryside beyond with a pensive look. "If I think about it like that, the situation might not have changed that much. It does, however, make it all the more important to convince these rogue nobles to side with us rather than the Strategos... and I'm sure She will make grateful work of examples of what happens to her enemies. Perhaps that is our role and function; an elegant deterrant. All we have to do is believe in the cause and succeed."
After speaking, she glances between Lotti and the hallway back to the meeting room, wondering if that was enough of an answer as well as suggesting ithey should probably rejoin the others soon.
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As Dzhorty takes the letter, the ginger-bearded man slaps his forehead. "Ah, I almost forgot, what with all the comings and goings. Follow me, young man."
The domovoi leads Marius to the eastern wing and down into the basement. There's a storage room there, and a wine cellar, but that's not where the fey is headed. With much shushing and conspiratorial looks, he feels along the northern part of the eastern wall until his calloused fingers latch onto something, and with a pull and a click the hidden door swings open. Beyond it, an earthen tunnel shored up with ancient wooden beams leads to what must be the base of the tower - and the domovoi's secret stash. In a pile of rags, broken porcelain, bits of curiously shaped wood and other trinkets they deemed interesting over the centuries lies a strangely curved sword. It is looking still sharp, and there is not a spot of rust on the blade, despite the grime and dampness of the cellar. The pommel has five gemstones of different colours set into it, and while four of them look cracked and dulled, the white one in the center is intact.
"Here. You can have this. It's no use to us."
When the wielder transfers at least 1 point of the weapon's enhancement bonus to their AC using the defending special ability, they also choose one creature other than themselves within 10 feet to gain a +1 bonus to AC until the wielder's next turn. This bonus is always +1, regardless of how much of the weapon's bonus the wielder transfers to their AC.
When the brave knight-commander Koriana of Zimar fell within the ranks of the Fifth Army of Exploration, her remains were returned home - along with her sundered steel shield. Her brother Tadric, distraught, focused only on creating a fitting legacy for Koriana's daughter. Devoting himself to the study of metalcraft and magical crafting, he eventually turned a shard of his sister's shield into a protective blade. Though records indicate that Tadric's niece took up the sword and joined the military, her full tale and the blade's fate were lost to history. Rumors that she went into clandestine service for the royal family still circulate.
Once breakfast is wrapped up, everyone heads into the village to show their guests around - Aiza and the Abadarian acolyte Festo Mise. As they enter Onora Piscum's pub, the half-elf greets them, looking a little concerned.
"My ladies, my lord. Glad to have you back. We have a bit of a situation." She clears her throat, somewhat reticent to speak of local business in front of the guests. "This morning, the count's guards dragged in one of our own, they claim he's been poaching the count's deer in the Abbeywood just north of the Stachys spur of the canal. If that's true, the law is quite clear - the punishment is death. Portimer, that's the man they caught, claims it was a mistake." She nods towards her storage room. "He's recovering in there now, the guard beat him within an inch of his life."
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Though the manor's renovations are ongoing, it's clear that an effort has gone into beautifying the manor balcony; the peeling paint of the railing covered by a woven chain of roses, and a dressing screen placed before the doorway to give the space a modicum of privacy from prying eyes. The small round table has a fine white tablecloth draped over it, and its usual chairs replaced by nicer ones borrowed from the dining room. The wine glasses, tableware, and candles were also borrowed from elsewhere in the manor but Marius doesn't think it's too poor of a showing given how quickly it all got put together.
Marius is wearing a well-tailored suit of midnight blue accented with silver cravat and cufflinks, and he stands as Rose arrives. "I'm glad you got my note," he manages as his eyes drink her in. "You look radiant." With a gentlemanly kiss on her hand he helps her into her chair, then does his best to make good on the promise of a proper courtship.
Unable to contain a gasp when he beholds the falcata, Marius reverently picks it up and partially unsheathes the weapon, letting out a low whistle of appreciation at the craftsmanship and its clearly magical nature.
"I'm honored, Master Dzhorty. How...how did you come by such a treasure?
Marius keeps his face carefully neutral as Onora makes her report. "I see--our return was well timed then. Are the Count's agents still present?" He bids Onora lead him to the room where Portimer is being held, studying the man intently.
"Lady Mokei, would you see to his injuries? He is well in hand, and his mind should be unclouded by pain for his trial." He catches and holds the man's gaze. "You are free to choose a representative for you counsel, or to represent yourself. We will begin in one hour." Then he departs to the tavern's main room to direct the rearranging of the room to be more appropriate for its current purpose.
"Are there any skilled trackers available who can assist in analyzing the evidence? We'll hear what Portimer has to say, but their skills will doubtless be needed."
Perhaps it was just sheer coincidence that Rose's dress had a perfectly matching colour to Marius - though who could say? It was mostly conservative, if definitely lower on the back than was strictly needed, and the transparent lace sleeves subtly flowed their flowery adornments with the sparse evening breeze. The most eye-catching part of the outfit, other than Rose herself, was the application of sequins, which dispersed between the cotton base and transparant overlayer gave it both a beautiful shine and lively reflection pattern. There was an unmistakable likeness to her Gala dress of the Jubilee, though whether this more practical evening gown had inspired it or the other way around was impossible to tell - both were stunning, vibrant and immaculately kept.
"You look radiant."
She gives a soft laugh over the admission and knightly kiss. "I'd better, for all the effort that went into this. Though the feeling is mutual, cliche as it might sound." She follows with a warm smile and allows herself to be seated. Her gaze glides across the scenery as she takes in the evening scent with content breath. "You know, I've been through much more extravagant receptions yet I find this one appeals to me most. It feels much more... honest and real. A good choice, definitely." She waits for him to also be seated. "That said, you are setting the bar quite high for yourself. Where do you go from here, I wonder?" An eyebrow is inquisitively raised.
There is some pity in Rose's eyes as she takes in the thoroughly abused man, and part of her wonders if his survival was even intended by the soldiers that caught him. Another part wonders what their story would have been to justify his death. Resisting arrest? Why even bother taking him here in such a state? For the formality and to intentionally prolong his suffering? Or was it something more - an implicit threat from Count Lotheed to not cross him?
She sighs and shakes her head as the man is healed. "If you don't know who to select, Lord Erallan's advisors, that is, the four of us, each have some experience dealing with court matters, if only by the last trial held here. I'd suggest selecting someone quickly, as an hour isn't long to prepare your defense. Especially not when it might lead to your death." She gives the prisoner a formal nod and begins to walk away, intent on asking around for more information unless stopped first.
Lotti notes the man’s name and nods to her familiar. As Marius speaks, she reviews her mental map of the town and where each of the local gossip-mongers lives and plies their craft. Her eyebrow rises when the nobleman sets the time of the trial though. She hesitates, then takes a breath and clears her throat. “My lord, that is not enough time to complete any but the most superficial of investigations into the truth of this matter. Let us reconvene before the evening bell instead.”
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For his part, Wobblekins saunters over to Portimer and purrs loudly while rubbing himself on the injured man’s legs. Once Konstiantina’s ministrations are complete, he hops into the man’s lap and begins to knead his pants with a satisfied, yet yearning expression on his feline face - heedless of any pain his sharp claws might be causing with each push of his paw.
There he waits, curled up in a tabby loaf, until Lotti returns from chatting with her sources.
Marius nods and makes a placating gesture to Lotti. "I don't intend to make an immediate ruling, Miss Qeb, but I will hear what the accuser and accused have to say once the latter has had some time to confer with whatever counsel he chooses. The first step of many on the road to truth, I assure you."
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Onora nods at Marius's question about the count's guards. "They're on patrol now, but should be back shortly." Portimer revives under either divine or mundane ministrations, looking around fearfully.
"My lord, it was a mistake, an honest mistake! I started tracking the deer south of the canal, I swear, got it wounded! I was following it to finish it off and didn't realize I had crossed into the count's land!" As Lotti speaks up, he latches onto that with a hopeful look. "Help me, mistress! Tell Lord Erallan to have mercy!"
The count's guards return indeed after a short while, reiterating their accusation: Portimer was caught poaching the count's deer, on the count's land. They are unapologetic about his treatment of him, hinting that this may not be the first time he's done it - just the first time they caught him. The sergeant insists that justice be done swiftly, and declares that he will take word back to the count of the verdict and resolution.
"That said, you are setting the bar quite high for yourself. Where do you go from here, I wonder?"
"I'm glad you asked! Next time, the bannister will be painted!" He gestures to the railing with a flourish and pours them each a glass of wine. He falls into some light conversation, asking Rose about her new business venture here in Stachys and listening attentively as she answers. He very carefully avoids the topic of family, knowing it's a tender subject for her.
After both sergeant and former miller have said their peace, Portimer is returned to his locked room under guard while the man's claim is investigated. Marius himself joins the sweep of the southern canal side after probing Portimer for exactly where he had injured the deer--but from the man's demeanor, he suspects he knows what happened even before they find no sign of deer on the Stachys side whatsoever.
Konstiantina heals Portimer without fuss or emotion; she lays her hands upon the wounded man and calls down Iomedae's grace, then leaves the room.
She already has a presentiment as to how this will go. The facts are almost irrelevant. Unsure how this makes her feel, unable to divine the currents that swim through the town, she accompanies Marius on his sweep of the southern canal. She's not of much help, but she can't simply remain at the manor.
Marius rises from another fruitless search for prints or spoor. "You're quiet," he observes to the paladin, though his eyes never stop their sweep of the ground. "What do you make of this fine little mess? I would hear your counsel before we go back to rejoin the others."
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"Would that I had wisdom to share." The paladin's voice is pitched low, and she waits for them to be out of earshot before continuing. "My heart urges clemency, for surely the penalty is too severe, but my mind cannot help but consider the consequences if we find a means to save his life."
She turns in frustration to gaze out over the sedge, the cattails and the river beyond. "We do not have the authority to change the law, and we shall have to face Count Lotheed's wrath if we fail to enforce it. We cannot allow this to be an example that others will seek to emulate, nor should we kill those driven to feed their family from sheer desperation."
She sighs and looks sidelong at her companion. "There is no neat and clean solution, at least, not one that satisfies all sides of my being. If the law is unjust, then I would see it changed, not merely sidestepped. But how to convince a man such as the count to relinquish his wealth? Unless."
Konstiantina frowns. "Unless we make this the rallying cry that turns the people against the count, and provides us with the justification to remove him."
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With a grimace of agreement at Konstiantina's description, Marius abandons the search for signs of deer--there were none, not on this side of the canal. The man was guilty.
"A rallying cry? Perhaps, though it lacks appeal for the upper classes, whose support we will surely also need. It's certainly an arrow in our quiver if we aim it at the right audience, though." Marius sighs, looking up at the sky as though it might have an answer for him.
"I'm not going to kill that man, Lady Mokei. And power does not yield to mere persuasion--there's never been a ruling order in all of history who willingly surrendered wealth and control. When the time comes to displace dear Bartleby it will be enforced with steel and spell or threat thereof, of that I am certain. If we want to change the law and not merely circumvent it--and I'm in agreement with you that we must, or the law becomes mere theater--then we need to redouble our efforts to build alliances and an independent base of power for--" He stops abruptly, shaking his head.
"A conversation for another time. For today, it will be enough to save that man's life. So tell me: what punishment short of Portimer's death will satisfy the Count without alienating the folk of Stachys from our cause? Flogging and a fine? Exile? I'm keen to thread this particular needle but uncertain as to how."