Longacre is a town of should-have-been heroes. Easily overlooked in its quiet, charmless corner of Cheliax, the town provides refuge to those who wish to forget and be forgotten. Unlike so many rural crossroads, Longacre girds itself in faded military trappings, the worn uniforms and tarnished regalia of hundreds of former soldiers caught up on both sides of the war that cast their nation into the grip of diabolism. More than three-quarters of a century after the hostilities ended, Longacre remains a dumping ground for Cheliax’s unwanted veterans, many of whom are outspoken in their criticism of House Thrune and the nation’s military policies.
In the better part of a century since House Thrune came to power, Longacre has changed little. Many of those who came to escape now find themselves prisoners of their own memories, entering their twilight years burdened with old scars and regrets. The families of the waning veteran population tend to either linger, knowing nothing but the town’s quiet life, or—in most cases—drift away down the Whisper River. A slow sort of pessimism taints the town, one that its ruler, Archbaron Darellus Fex, either hasn’t noticed or cares nothing about. Many residents seek one last adventure, one last chance to be great. These days, Longacre is coated in the dust of years, making it easy to ignore the powder keg hidden just beneath...
In all respects, the small town is a far cry from the Silver City of Kintargo. But this is where a noble scion in self-imposed exile has found herself, along with her erratic handmaiden. This is where our story begins...
1 Gozran, 4715 AR
Imperia lets out a tired sigh as she rides into Longacre. Another washed up town full of small people. Not an ounce of comfort or true culture... Looking around with one impeccable eyebrow arched she takes in the faded clothes, the small (although admittedly solid) houses and the sullenness of the inhabitants.
"Come along Jordanna, we must go and pay our respects to the Archbaron." Who no doubt lives in the manor house on the hill, the only apparent sign of civilisation in this backwater. Glancing back at her new 'maid' who sits on a horse with all the grace of a sack of potatoes Imperia represses a second sigh. Amelia getting sick soon after they left Ravounel was one of the greatest trials of a journey sadly full of them. Of course she had to be allowed to return home, but travel without a maid was unpleasant, and travel with her new... companion was little better. Jordanna certainly had skills, but manners, deportment and drawing a hot bath were not among them - let alone the grooming tasks that a ladies maid should excel at. Still, she had made the few encounters with ne'er-do-wells and bandits much easier and that was reason enough to tolerate her... rough edges.
Arriving at the manor house Imperia gestures to the guard. "You will announce Lady Tanessen, of Kintargo, come to pay my respects to Archbaron Fex."
"Never met any baron who was worthy of my 'respects,'" Jordanna grunts from behind Imperia. The feral woman scratches at the itchy sleeves of the outfit her new mistress has forced her to wear, a maid dress that stretches to its limits over the rounded bulge of her belly. She squints at the dingy town through one catlike and one milky white eye.
Archbaron Fex's manor of Scarlet Crown lies southeast of Longacre on the outskirts of town. A pair of rampant iron stags watches over the gate on the road leading up to the manor. Red glass shimmers upon the stags’ horns, suggesting the source of the manor’s name. Beneath the stags, a pair of grim guards keeps watch.
They give you odd looks, but one runs inside to oblige Imperia's request. After several minutes, he returns to report that the archbaron will meet with you.
Sharp gables and tall, narrow windows lend the archbaron’s manor an abbeylike quality, as though this were more a place for study and solemnity than leisure and laughter. A motif of rampant stags with antlers bloody from battle repeats among iron rooftop finials and on a crest above the stone entrance.
Several guards patrol the grounds and stroll atop the rooftop terrace, crossbows in hand, and halfling slaves scurry about the grounds and within the manor. At the manor’s door, a halfling butler greets you and escorts you to the archbaron’s office on the second floor.
The archbaron’s office is appointed in midnight ebony and crimson satin. Towering bookshelves, glassy-eyed taxidermic creatures, and curtained alcoves line the walls. At the far end of the room, a large desk and throne-like chair sit beneath a coat of arms displaying battling, bloodyhorned stags. Behind the desk, a wide window overlooks the manor grounds.
A spare-looking man with slick salt-and-pepper hair stands up behind the desk as you enter. "Lady Tanessen. I am Darellus Fex, Archbaron of Longacre. To what do I owe the...pleasure of your visit?"
Imperia offers a curtsey, one appropriate to the Lord of the Manor but still mindful of her superior rank. As she does so she flicks her fingers behind her back, reminding Jordanna to stand quietly in the corner and not interrupt, as she has an unfortunate habit of doing.
"I am journeying south my Lord. Heading for Egorian. However the recent... disturbances have forced me to adjust my route and thus I come to be in your fair town." Imperia replies, all politeness and charm. "Life in the north has become so provincial, and most disappointingly... lax." News has reached her of Barzallai Thrune and the damage he is doing to her former home - much of it richly deserved no doubt, but Imperia can't help but expect something unfortunate to happen to the Lord Mayor sooner rather than later.
"Has Longacre had any trouble with this 'Glorious Reclamation'?" She asks, arranging her skirts to sit.
Jordanna remains silent, rubbing her hands over her round stomach in a soothing manner.
Fex waits for Imperia to sit before doing likewise. "The Glorious Reclamation is nothing but an overzealous mob of Iomedaean fanatics. Nevertheless, even this far removed from the front lines of the burgeoning conflict with that rabble, we are seeing unrest here in town. The locals are getting riled up over stories of an Iomedaen knight named Lencia Visserene, the self-proclaimed 'Angel Knight.' She is working hard to foment the fires of dissent in Longacre.
"I have put travel bans and curfews into place and made it illegal for the citizens to congregate in large groups in an effort to nip this unrest in the bud, but I will admit that I could use further assistance. Lady Tanessen, might you be amenable to working for--that is, working with me?"
"You believe that an outsider may have entry into areas that you do not?" Imperia says meditatively, sipping the cup of tea that the butler has just provided. "I would have no objection to working with you Archbaron Fex." She lays a sliver of emphasis on 'with', just to ensure that they are both on the same page. "Although I must ask what material benefit I would derive from our collaboration? My father is fond of saying "Only a fool or a scoundrel does something for nothing" and I endeavour to be neither."
Fex nods. "Of course. I can offer you a salary of 150 gp per week, with a provision for merit-based increases. I will also grant you the rights to whatever salvage or loot you might come to while in service to the town, as well as discretionary bonuses as I see fit. In exchange, I want this Angel Knight revealed with dealt with, along with whatever treacherous souls are stirring up rebellion in Longacre. I am not in need of a sheriff--though I recently fired the last one on suspicion of collaborating with the conspirators, my guards can deal with the mundane policing of the town-- but I am willing to grant you emergency authority to do whatever must be done, though I would like Longacre to remain intact. If you wish, you may use the jail and sheriff’s office as a headquarters to keep an eye on things in town."
"Your terms are acceptable my Lord." Imperia replies, nodding her head politely. "I believe I will avoid any association with the jail and the sheriff's office unless strictly necessary. Openly linking myself to your law enforcement agencies would make the initial stages of this work harder than they need to be. I will have to take lodgings in the town. Where would you recommend that a lady stay in Longacre?"
She leaves the question to hang, not about to do anything so crude as to demand payment up front.
Fex's lip curls up a little bit. "To be honest, I wouldn't recommend a lady stay anywhere in Longacre, but these are interesting times... Now that I think on it, though, the house belonging to the last mayor, Julive Wotimmir, has stood empty for the past 8 years, ever since Wotimmir disappeared. It might be a bit dusty, but I have no doubt you and your..."
He glances askew at Jordanna, who favors him with a sneer.
"...your, eh, maid, will have little trouble cleaning it up to your standard of living.
"There is one other matter to attend to. Queen Abrogail has decreed that in this time of national crisis, all agents of the crown must reaffirm their loyalty to their lord, House Thrune, and Cheliax by swearing the Hellfire Compact. If you’re to serve in the queen’s name, I must insist."
"Unfortunately my personal maid was taken ill some weeks ago and had to return home," Imperia says, answering the unasked question. "I have had to make do since then. Jordanna has a number of skills despite her... unfortunate situation, and it behoves those of us with the ability to support those less fortunate than ourselves." She extends her hand for Fex to help her up.
"In service of her Infernal Majestrix, I will be honoured to swear the Compact." She says, ignoring the butler as he scurries forward to rescue her tea cup from the desk. "If you will lead the way my Lord?"
The archbaron pulls back the thick curtains of a nearby alcove, revealing a golden stand gripping a chunk of black crystal that smolders like a gigantic, hellish ember, filling the room with a crimson glow the color of blood. "This stone is an ember drawn from the forges of Phlegethon—one of the layers of Hell—that burns with hellfire. You touch the crystal while swearing the Hellfire Compact. Yes, there is pain associated with the vow, but it is not lasting.
"When you are ready, one at a time, lay your hands upon the stone and recite the following: 'I swear my absolute allegiance to Her Infernal Majestrix Queen Abrogail II of the Thrice-Damned House of Thrune, and the Empire of Cheliax.'"
Imperia steps forward and places her left palm on the stone. "I swear my absolute allegiance to Her Infernal Majestrix Queen Abrogail II of the Thrice-Damned House of Thrune, and the Empire of Cheliax." She says firmly, seeing nothing in the vow that she needs, or wishes to, object to. "Jordanna."
"Well, I had best depart to view my new residence." Imperia says. "I imagine that there will be certain renovations required, purchases to make." She leaves the tolerably obvious hint to speak for itself. "Will you wish to receive regular reports Baron, or shall we minimise our contact for the time being?"
Jordanna reluctantly swears the vow as well, snarling in pain and yanking her hands away afterwards. The stone seems to have punished her for her chaotic nature, burning her worse than it did Imperia, much to Fex's amusement.
Once that is done, the archbaron counts out fifteen platinum pieces and hands them to Imperia. "Your first week's salary, in advance. This should help you settle in. I will be sending my agent to keep in contact with you on the regular. Razelago?"
The curtain of another alcove is pulled back to reveal a stool and a writing desk. Clinging to the desk, almost unbalancing it, is a bloated fly’s abdomen of monstrous proportions from which sprouts the chubby upper body of a human infant. A neck hidden by fatty folds swivels and a pair of black, compound eyes squint against the light. Insectile mouthparts flex enthusiastically between pudgy lips and a screechy voice issues forth: “As you say, My Lord.”
Razelago gives you both an appraising look and bobs his head. "Pleased to meet you. Once you are settled, I will fill you in on what I have learned of the Angel Knight."
Imperia gives Razelago a once over and then dismisses him for the moment. Jordanna's pain receives even less consideration - the alchemist is well able to heal herself, although Imperia can only hope that she waits until Fex is not looking.
"You are most generous, good day to you Baron, until we meet again." She offers another curtsey and makes her departure. "Jordanna, make sure you get the directions." She calls over her shoulder.
The old mayor's house is located down the road from Scarlet Crown, still outside the walls of Longacre proper. Still, it is one of the town's largest and most impressive homes. As expected, the interior is rather dusty, but the few valuables within appear to be undisturbed.
As soon as the two women are inside, Jordanna growls and scratches at her maid's dress. "Argh! Can I take this damned thing off now?"
"If you must," Imperia replies as she looks around. "Clothes are going to be required though, particularly if I have guests, which may prove necessary. Take some gold and purchase yourself a new wardrobe, sober, but something that you won't want to tear off at every opportunity." She sighs quietly to herself. "We will also need cleaning supplies, fresh linen and food. I trust that you are able to cook?" The issue hasn't come up during their stays at roadside inns. "I will examine the house."
And, sadly, clean. But that is what servants and magic is for and while Jordanna may not be the best servant, Imperia is in no way lacking in magic so while the task will be monotonous, it will at least be relatively easy.
"Keep your ears open while you are out." She reminds Jordanna. "Spend a little coin if it will help, I would like to know what is going on in this town."
Jordanna nearly tears the dress from her body, throwing it on the floor with disgust. She sighs with relief, untangling the long brown fur on her back, arms, and legs. "Fine. But if I knew there were going to be so many rules, I would have taken my chances in the wilds."
The changeling groans and plops down on a dusty couch to take a break before departing. Her swollen breasts rest on the swell of her scarred, pregnant belly. The thing inside of her twitches and shifts, as if sensing its mother's agitation.
Eventually, she mutters and dons the maid's dress again before stalking off into town.
As Imperia cleans the house, she is able to gather up the previous mayor's valuable possessions. These mostly amount to fancy silverware, candelabras, and other art objects worth a total of 500 gp altogether.
Exploring the basement, the stench of rot and decay leads Imperia to a hidden door. It is stuck, but with enough leverage, the mesmerist is able to jimmy it open. Beyond the door is a shrine to the archdevil Mephistopheles, and entombed within is the evidence of Julive Wotimmir and her house cat’s semi-tragic end. It would seem they got stuck within and slowly starved to death. An ignoble way to go, to be sure.
"And no-one cared enough to come and look for you..." Imperia says, looking down at Julive Wotimmir's mortal remains. "That is your own failing." She leaves the body for Jordanna to deal with - the changeling may well eat it, but frankly Imperia doesn't care, although she is a little sad about the cat. She likes animals.
The silverware and other valuables are polished with magic, yet another time consuming process, until they gleam with suitable splendour. Thankfully only one plate has the previous mayor's crest on it and Imperia uses that to hold a small bunch of flowers that she locates outside the back door.
By the time Jordanna returns the house looks much better, Imperia has decided which bedrooms belong to whom, and is getting hungry.
Jordanna returns with a handful of heavy cloaks and some meat and cheese. ”They didn’t have much that would fit. Ordered some custom outfits to pick up later,” she explains before heading to the kitchen to prepare lunch.
Soon thereafter, there is a knock on the door. Opening it reveals a young woman with short dark hair and fair skin. She smiles and effects a somewhat less than proper bow. ”So, you’re the new lady of the manor? Allow me to welcome you to Longacre. Name’s Cimri Staelish. If you need a guide around town, I’m your gal. And if you need any jobs done, with no questions asked, well, for a nominal feel, I’m your gal as well.”
"How... interesting." Imperia says, "Come in, do."
As the girl walks past her and gapes Imperia applies the full force of her will to the girl's mind. "Shall we sit in the parlor?" She suggests.
Once both seated Imperia takes a seat. "So, tell me about yourself Miss Staelish."
Cimri's eyes glaze over slightly and her smile broadens as the charm takes hold. She reclines on the couch beside Imperia. "Sure thing! Well, my parents were seasonal lumber workers. I grew up in the lumber camps and wintered in Longacre with my aunt, Rhona. She used to be the sheriff here up till a few weeks ago. Anyway, ma and da were drunks, so I had to take care of myself for the most part. Got a bit of a reputation as a vandal among the stuffy old folks who live here."
Her expression darkens. "My parents ditched me to get new jobs somewhere else. Left without even saying goodbye and dumped me on Aunt Rhona. Once I turned sixteen, I left her to make my own way. Learned how to use a knife from an ex-brigand and how to pick locks from a traveling Varisian, how to drink from hardened army vets, and how to curse from Whisperwood loggers. But I taught myself how to use people. No one I trusted ever followed through, so I stopped trusting, and instead learned how to lie and manipulate to get what I wanted. It's been a handy set of skills to have."
Her smile returns as she looks into Imperia's mismatched eyes. "Sorry, milady. Hope I didn't bore you."
"You haven't bored me at all." Imperia replies, sensing an opportunity here to bring the woman to her side with more than simple magic. "That is quite the exciting life you've had so far. Now, I am new to the town and having someone who knows the locals would be very helpful to me. I will pay you, shall we say fifteen gold pieces a week, and in return you will perform odd jobs for me and whatever other tasks I think necessary? How does that sound?"
Once Cimri replies Imperia nods and hands over five gold pieces. "The first instalment of your wages. Now the first thing I will need is a reliable cook. Is there anyone in the village who would be willing to take such a position? If there is I'd like you to invite them here tomorrow morning for an interview. In the meantime, tell me about Longacre. How are people reacting to the Glorious Rebellion? Who are the important people within the town?"
She settles back and smiles, enjoying how much simpler magic makes things.
Cimri's eyes sparkle when Imperia mentions gold. "That sounds absolutely lovely, milady! As I said before, I'm your gal!"
She swiftly pockets the coins. "There's a girl named Sally who works at the Arch and Lark, the least popular pub in Longacre--that is to say, the town's only other pub after the Last Stand. I could probably woo her away with promises of payment.
"As for the town itself, it's the same as it ever was--full of old farts long past their prime. Most of them are outspoken in their criticism of House Thrune and Cheliax’s military policies, and have been mistreated, shunned, and driven to Longacre in poverty and effective exile—they have even had their names struck from Cheliax’s military rolls. It's a powder keg waiting for a spark, and with the rumors of the Reclamation and this Angel Knight making waves, things might blow up any minute now.
"Important people, let's see... The church of Iomedae is run by a lady named Tileavia Allamar and her twin sons. They're the ones most vocal about supporting the Reclamation, as you'd imagine. Then ther'es Mr. Ingoe, the dockmaster. He keeps a collection of interesting freight that got 'lost,' including some magic stuff that he might be willing to part with for enough coin. And there's an old warmage who lives just down the road from you, in fact, named Tealan Ruckleer. He keeps to himself, but there's all sorts of rumors as to what he gets up to in that house of his. Other than that... nah, nobody comes to mind. They're all pretty lame and boring."
"Well thank you." Imperia says again, smiling at Cimri. "You should go and talk to this Sally girl. If she is at least a respectable cook I will be happy to hire her. Oh, and take my card to Mr Ruckleer. Tell him that I would be delighted to call on him now that we are neighbours. That should be everything for now Cimri."
She stands, clearly dismissing the young woman. "If I am not here you can always leave messages with my maid, Jordanna." She tells the young woman. "Now, off you go."
-----------------------
At lunch with Jordanna Imperia relays what she has learned so far about Longacre. "Have you picked up any information so far?" She asks, "I am interested to hear your impressions."
Jordanna handles the food with her hands, tearing at it hungrily without regard for decorum. Between messy bites, she answers Imperia.
"This place is a dusty shithole. The sooner we are done with it, the better," she grumbles. "The people seem insular and suspicious. At least the grocery is well-stocked, and the owners were nice enough, I guess."
The changeling lets out a belch.
Imperia winces at Jordanna's table manners. "Succinct I suppose. I have hired some new help, a young woman named Cimri. She's going to be doing odd jobs around the town for me, including finding a cook. That will free you from doing the most mundane jobs." Imperia pauses, "I imagine that I'll need you along with me should this 'Angel Knight' start making themselves known. After lunch we will go out and try to learn a little more about the town."
Cimri won't be able to leave a note, but since she hasn't come back already Imperia is not holding out great hopes for social contact with the wizard. Therefore she takes her travelling cloak, still sadly faded, and heads into town, intent on picking up the gossip and meeting Mr Ingoe - as well as a venture to the local tavern, provided that it is not too filthy.
The road from your new home leads into Longacre through its wall's eastern gate. You make note of several sites of interest as you chat with various locals--the Last Stand tavern near the gate, the now-empty jail, the towering Church of Iomedae in the town's square. The middle-aged Gield Sisters who run Gield's General Store seem to know everyone in town between them, making them primary sources of gossip.
Most of the hot goss, of course, surrounds the Angel Knight. Tileavia Allamar held a sermon just a few days ago purporting to have received a letter urging the town to help reclaim the nation in the name of the Inheritor. She revealed an ornate silver helmet with angelic features that was supposedly a sign of the Knight's favor. Several members of town are still in a fiery mood.
Lesser gossip surrounds Elish Odmer, the owner of a gaudy wheeled storefront named Odmer's Tonics. He claims to have ties directly to the Nine Wonders Conglomerate, a Thuvian corporation dedicated to bringing the secrets of their mystical medicines and revolutionary tinctures to the world at large. Few believe the Nine Wonders even exist, and everyone in Longacre knows the story of how Odmer was banned from town for a year after brewing a batch of bad moonshine in Natisha Howell’s bathtub. Regardless of the shyster’s reputation, he’s a charming flatterer who occasionally has useful items on hand.
There's also gossip about Longacre's oldest resident. Miss Nisra Wilmore has a reputation for indulging strange superstitions and for keeping a small legion of identical white cats. Although none can say exactly how old Miss Wilmore is, most assume she’s well over 110 years old. Rumors swirl around the Wilmore House, most related to its guardian cats and the strangely colored smoke that frequently spirals from its chimney.
Having had your fill of rumors for now, you head down to Longacre's docks. Down the slope to the north of town, just a little over half a mile beyond Longacre’s border fence, a rickety gray dock juts out into the Whisper River. From a shack with a block-and-tackle crane at the dock’s far end, Mr. Ingoe oversees the coming and going of visitors and cargo to and from Longacre.
Mr. Ingoe emerges to greet you as you approach, bowing low. "Lovely ladies! Welcome to the Longacre docks! How can I, Mr. Ingoe, be of assistance?"
"I have just moved to the town." Imperia replied, "And it seemed sensible to get to know all the significant people in town. When I asked yours was the first name on many lips, as a purveyor of rare artefacts I understand?"
"Indeed. I have many objects that I have... 'acquired' over the years. Many of them are magical! Chances are I might have something you need."
"I see all sorts of interesting people and cargo coming off the river. I'd be happy to keep you apprised of developments for a weekly fee. Say, 10 gp a week?"
"A lady always likes to know the gossip." Imperia agrees, "Although you have yet to provide me with anything of worth. Five now, and five more should you find something worth my time."
Mr. Ingoe nods. "Shrewd and beautiful. A winning combination! Five gold sounds like a fair bargain."
"Agreed." Imperia replies, handing over the coins and letting her hand linger in his for a moment. "And with that, good sir, I must continue. Good day to you. I hope we will meet again."
The sun has begun to set by the time you return to Longacre. As you approach the Last Stand tavern, Razelago suddenly appears beside you. "There you are! I bring word from my master. This Angel Knight doesn’t appear to be just some fiction concocted by an overzealous priestess. A talentless local minstrel named Riley Kels claims to have met her, and has even composed a series of ballads in her honor. While the amateur’s singing is crime enough, he performed these songs at The Last Stand Tavern last night—which incidentally broke the new curfew and sanctions against gathering.
“Our Lordship wants an example made of The Last Stand’s owner, Bolgart Caggan, for defying the new law. I'll leave exactly what to do with him up to your imagination. Additionally, see what you can find out about the Angel Knight from Kels. That is all!"
The little devil disappears again.
***
Battered shields and dull polearms decorate the walls of The Last Stand’s taproom, overlooking the tavern’s bar and tables. A small stage rises to the left of the bar, in full view of the room.
A burly red-haired man stands at the end of the bar, wearing a heavily stained apron--the owner, Bolgart Caggan. The bard Riley Kels sits on the stage, strumming a cherry wood lute and crooning an awkward ballad he’s titled "The Angel of Longacre." No less than 16 townsfolk fill the tavern, well beyond the archbaron's recently imposed limits for social gathering...
The imp comes and goes too quickly to actually make a plan, something which annoys Imperia no end. "Useless gadfly." She mutters. [smaller]"Jordanna, get a drink at the bar and mingle. I'm going to talk to the minstrel."
She takes a seat near the stage and makes a point of staring devotedly at the bard and applauding whenever he pauses. When the song finally ends she waves to attract his attention and beckons him to her table.
"Barmaid, a drink for this performer, whatever he likes!"
"So," She adds, turning to Riley. "You are quite talented sir. And who is this Angel of Longacre? You make her sound truly divine. A girl you know, a lover perhaps? Such a handsome fellow must have plenty of admirers?"
Jordanna obliges the request, though it's hard for a pregnant savage-looking woman to "mingle." Still, her presence at the bar certainly distracts the bartender and the crowd away from Imperia.
Riley grins at Imperia and happily joins her. "Why, thank you, milady! Nay, I know not this Angel that I sing of. I attended Sword Knight Allamar's sermon the other day was impressed by her proclamation. I thought it would make a good song!"
"Oh come now!" Imperia says with a coquettish laugh. "I have not been in town long but even I can tell that such music, such poetry was not the product of a dry sermon! No..." She leans forward, closing the gap between herself and Riley. "The way you sing about her - you're singing about someone you know. Oh, if only I had someone to sing about me like that!"
She falls back again, overacting a little but certain that Riley would lap the performance up.
Indeed, Riley grins widely. He glances around before leaning in to whisper to Imperia. "Alright, then. I'll tell you the truth, though it isn't much. I came across a woman in winged plate armor at dawn a couple days ago atop a hill a few miles outside town. She was praying, and when the dawn light reflected upon her sculpted helm, I must confess I mistook her for an angel! I dropped to my knees when she approached, but she helped me up and told me not to be afraid. I asked her name and she gave it as Lencia Visserene. Then she left. I wish she had stayed! I was so inspired I spent the rest of the day writing ballads about her!"
The bard leans back in his seat. "But now, perhaps, I have found a new muse! Will you tell me your name, milady, that I might put it to song?"
"Ah, but what sort of muse would I be if I gave my artist his knowledge so easily?" Imperia replies, still smiling. "My name should be a mystery, something that you ear, that you can woo from me with song... call me Titania, and then perhaps..." She stands, and leans over the bard, her lips brushing his ear. "... Perhaps I will bring you to my faerie bower..." She swirls away, leaving Kels with a far-away look in his eyes.
She moves towards the bar and insinuates herself into a group of women's chatter. "Please forgive me ladies, I've only just arrived in town, but is it normal for one to see a rat in this establishment?" She asks with a small shudder, "I was sitting by the stage and the foul thing practically ran across my foot!"
"Eek! Rats? Where? I hate rats!" the women shriek in alarm. The crowd quickly begins to cry out and move towards the exits in fear of imaginary rodents.
"Hey!" Caggan shouts from behind the bar. "There ain't no rats! I run a clean establishment!" He glares at Imperia. "What're ya tryin' to do, lady? Put me out of business?"
"Better that you lose customers tonight than risk having your house shut down for good." Imperia replies coldly. "The Archbaron's ordinances are to be obeyed Mr Claggan. We may not agree with them but a law abiding citizen follows them anyway, so as to not bring trouble upon themselves or their employees. If you care at all for your staff, your customers or your reputation. I'd be more careful in future - restrict gatherings to the specified size. Who knows what might happen if you don't?"
She fixes the tavern keeper with a cold gaze and then sweeps out, blowing a kiss towards Riley as she does so.
Caggan pales at Imperia's icy words. His hands tremble and a vein in his neck bulges, but he restrains his anger and simply nods, letting the changelings leave without incident.
Razelago appears shortly thereafter to receive your report. "So, the Angel Knight is near. I will inform my master!" He vanishes again, leaving you to your own devices the rest of the night...
"Her name is Lencia Visserene." Imperia adds, "Ensure that your master knows that."
As for the rest of the evening Imperia has few plans. Jordanna is set to drawing her a bath, which Imperia heats with magic - not ideal but better than nothing, and takes the time over her ablutions and appearance that weeks of travel have prevented. Then she turns in and dreams of her triumphant return to Kintargo, powerful and wealthy beyond even her father's wildest dreams.
Jordanna sets up her alchemist's lab in her appointed quarters and spends the night working on several foul-smelling concoctions. Eventually, she piles the blankets into a nest and curls up naked among them, cradling her belly as she slumbers.
***
The next morning, Cimri brings Sally by. She is a slight, pale girl with freckles and red hair. Despite her meek demeanor, she proves to be a competent cook and accepts the job jf offered.
Afterwards, you leisurely stroll about town, eyes open for anything out of the ordinary. And indeed, you find something. Handwritten fliers and postings bearing rough sketches of a woman in armor and a familiar angelic helmet have begun showing up around town—nailed to the town post, left on benches, and slid under doors. The square surrounding the town post is most regularly targeted by these notices, most of which ask, “Will you come when she calls?”
Imperia subjects Sally to a short, but thorough grilling and seems eminently satisfied as to the girl's qualifications and abilities. She is provided with a budget and told to get lunch and dinner ready. Cimri, meanwhile, is tasked with disposing of the body of the former owner. Imperia doesn't specify how - the woman died of natural causes and if Cimri can arrange a proper burial Imperia is fine with that happening.
-----------------------------------
How interesting... Imperia thinks, taking a flyer to examine further later. Kels or someone else? I'll have to get Cimri checking around. Still, that is not the most pressing issue for the day - that is to meet the Sword Knight who seems to be the center of so much discontent in Longacre.
Cimri wrinkles her nose at the stench from the rotten body. "Ugh! Yeah, I'll get rid of her. And then I'll take a long bath to get the smell off of me!"
***
Longacre’s Church of Iomedae, surrounded by a wrought-iron fence, sits just to the north of one of the town’s squares called, appropriately enough, the church square. The square contains a well, available for use by anyone in town, and a tall wooden post for posting notices and announcements. Shops and businesses surround the plaza, and a wide thoroughfare runs north and south through the square.
The church itself stands atop a 6-foot-tall, fortresslike foundation of stone, which lifts it over the churchyard and the plaza beyond. Eleven stained-glass windows decorate the church’s narthex and sanctuary, each abstractly depicting one of the Acts of Iomedae. Whitewashed wooden stairs climb to a small porch and the church’s only entrance. Two balconies extend from the church’s face, with narrow glass doors leading from each into the sanctuary.
Inside the narthex, the space is airy and open with a number of folksy crafts decorating the walls— mostly carved or woven pieces featuring the holy symbol of Iomedae. The chamber’s most impressive features are its stained-glass windows, the largest of which depicts a giant, golden figure bearing the sunburst and sword symbol of Iomedae floating skyward while small, blue figures below exalt her.
A few members of the clergy greet you as you enter. After making your request to meet with the high priestess, one goes to fetch Fifth Sword Knight Tileavia Allamar. Allamar bows respectfully.
"Blessings of the Inheritor upon you. How may I be of service?"
"And the blessing of the Lawgiver upon you as well." Imperia replies politely, "My reason for being here is two fold. Firstly my maidservant is heavily pregnant and I wish to inquiries about a midwife for when it becomes necessary, I hoped that you could point me in the appropriate direction. Second I wished to speak to you about the rumours of this Angel Knight. I can understand why the Church of Iomedae would see it as a good thing but surely, as a community leader, you can see the dangers inherent in promoting her as a figure to be emulated. We may not agree with House Thrune but they run a stable and lawful society. The Inheritor is as in favor of a peaceful and stable society as any and this stability is at risk if displays such as today's continue. The Archbaron will be provoked into retaliating, likely with overwhelming force and then Longacre suffers." Imperia folds her hands, deliberately adopting a very demur posture.
"I am only a newcomer to Longacre, but I worry for its safety if people, or the town as a whole are deemed to be dangerous. Of course I do not have your local knowledge Sword Knight - if there is anything that I don't know, some cause for hope, then please enlighten me!"
"First, allow me to say congratulations to the expecting mother. Many of our residents are older and we do not see a lot of births here in Longacre, so a new baby is a welcome miracle. Doctor Gerya Rohalendi operates a hospice here in town. She would be the most qualified to help your maidservant.
"As to your second concern, I understand your position as an Abadarran, but Iomedae teaches us to not only seek stability, but to stand up against injustice. And for far too long, all of Cheliax has suffered unjustly under the yoke of House Thrune and its infernal decrees. That suffering will continue unabated if nothing is done to fight against it.
"I thank you for your counsel, milady. I will pray on it, and seek guidance from the Inheritor. You can rest assured that I will do what is right for Longacre and her people."
"You are best placed to judge I am sure..." Imperia replies, her tone making it clear that she isn't convinced. "And I am comforted by your good intentions. Thank you for the information about Doctor Rohalendi. Would you be kind enough to give me directions? I hope the Inheritor will grant you her wisdom and clarity in the days to come."
Once she has her instructions Imperia beats a polite departure. Not much room for manoeuvre there. Unless something were to happen to prove me right... but at least the cover of an Abadarian seems fruitful.
Turning the problem over in her head Imperia continues on her way - she is never going to call Doctor Rohalendi in the unlikely event that Jordanna does give birth in anything approaching a normal manner, but the local doctor is usually a person of significance and worth getting to know.