"Thank you, I will have one made."
"Would it be okay if Menan and I did some practice on the course?"
"Don't overdo it. I want the grass to look good on Sunday. Otherwise, have fun."
Menan heads to the forge to have their banner made.
As Menan comes close to the forge he hears the cursing of Torbin. "I don't care. I have to work here. And if you don't move yer shit out into the yard, you'll have soot all over it. See if I care."
Arawyn tells Menan that the horses should know the track as well as they know their riders. They walk the course, then trot it, then canter it. "Let's hold off on the gallop for now. The main thing is that they know the course"
"Mon dieu! This rude dwarf. Such a philitiine!" the artist, a slender man with a palette in hand stands there in consternation.
"But he can do wonders in this place. I hear you are quite talented as well. Menan hands the artist his ring. This is my family crest. I am in need of a banner for the race."
"I told you to put yer shit into the stables."
"I need to cover everything first, before I can look at that." the artist replies. He puts his palette down and starts covering everything with a large cloth.
Once that is done, the artist walks outside, and takes a look at the ring. "A very interesting crest. What colors should it have? Is this ring as is should be, or is it a simplefied version of it?"
"Gold and dark green. The detail is not there. Please use your artistic abilities to fill that out."
"Of course. It's a pleasure to be of service."
After practicing on the course, the Variels head toward the docks on horseback.
At the docks there is a weird atmosphere. Most of the usual people are not there. Instead there are some of the gawkers from earlier that day are still hanging around to see what happens with the boats that evacuated from the ship.
They remain on horseback and take in their surroundings.
While they wait Arawyn says "This city life is so different than living off the land. I miss that, Menan.
"Yes. It certainly is. I do find these city dwellers quite interesting. And I share your feelings. We must take a few days off and then return. What do we have here? The race. That is all. After the race."
"That dwarf still has my blade."
Meanwhile Lord Vanderbuilt returns to his manor. He looks pale as death and is shaking. In his hand he clutches the contract that is his ruin. The shame!
He walks to the garden shed and gets some rope. He tries to avoid all the servants and especially his wife. He doesn't want to explain how he staked all the remaining wealth of the family on one card and it blew up in his face.
He sneaks into the bedroom and grabs a chair and puts it under the chandelier. As he can't reach the hook at the ceiling he ties the rope to the chandelier itself. He binds a noose, puts it around his neck and slowly lowering himself into the noose he kicks away the chair.
The chair hits the floor hard and the chandelier jingles as Lord Vanderbuilt struggles at the rope.
"That sounds like something bad happened to some of your furniture. Shall we go and check?"
"What do you mean? I heard nothing."
"Something hit the floor and the jingle of a crystal chandelier? From that direction!" Faerveren insists.
"That's probably the clumsy maid. No reason to worry." Eleanor plays down the issue.
The tour through Lady Eleanor's estate and her plans for the next day goes on, until a few minutes later a blood curling scream is heard. This time really from the maid.
Faerveren looks at Lady Eleanor if that is something that should worry them. But she only asks with her facial expression. She stays silent.
"What is it with this maid?" Eleanor states annoyed. But nonetheless she moves into the direction the scream came from.
As Lady Eleanor enters the room where the scream came from a scene of horror is offered. Lord Vanderbuilt hanging at the rope from the chandelier, all life has left him. The chair toppled over on the ground, and the maid fainted and bleeding from a cat where her head hit the ground.
Arawyn and Menan remain on horseback at the docks. They listen to anyone who speaks and keep an eye out for the city guards.
As lady Eleanor enters the chambers she is shocked. She stares aghast at the scence and hyperventilates. "I can't, ... someone needs to, ... I need to sit down somewhere."
She turns and leaves the room to sit down on an armchair in the corridor.
Faerveren draws her dagger and takes the chair to get at the rope. She cuts the man down, putting him slowly at the ground. She checks on him if he is dead.
Then she checks on the maid if she will make it, or if she is bleeding.
To her it doesn't look good. She leaves the room to look for Lady Eleanor. "I'm no expert, but that looks like you need a priest to look after the maid. And to look what to do with Lord Vanderbuilt. Shall I go and get Father Grimburrow from the temple of Pharasma?"
Everything where someone else takes care of this situation sounds good to Eleanor. "Yes, please do that."
Faerveren runs out of the house and off the premises to get to the cemetery. There she rushes into the chapel searching for the priest. "Father Grimburrow, you need to come quickly! Someone's dead and the maid is bleeding! Come, we have to go."
Father Grimburrow comes out of the side room. "Where to? What happened?"
"At the Vanderbuilt Manor, come quickly." Faerveren replies turning around to lead the way.
Father Grimburrow follows. It is not clear to him what is going on, but obviously something that puts that young woman in a state close to panic. And as he isn't busy with urgent things he can as well look himself what it is.
The pace of Faerveren is too fast for him. But he hurries as fast as his physical constitution allows. Once he reaches be building and finally the scene he lifts his holy symbol and with a short prayer channels positive energy to heal.
Meanwhile the whole house has come together in the corridor, some gawking into the room. The maid is already sitting up again as Father Grimburrow arrives, but the healing helps a lot with the ugly cut on her head. Lord Vanderbuilt shows no reaction to the divine intervention.
The ripped apart contract with Marinelli lies on the floor. It is about an investment of 10,000 gold that should finance a delivery of goods that would be sold for 15,000 gold. A simple deal with Lord Vanderbuilt as an intermediary that would have given him a net profit of 5,000 gold. It is not obvious from the contract what the problem would be, that motivated Lord Vanderbuilt to take his life.
As the lord can't be helped with healing, Father Grimburrow casts a gentle repose on the corpse. "My condolences Lady Vanderbuilt. Would you like to talk about the situation in a more private environment?"
To Faerveren he tells "Please have the lord placed on the bed in a more dignified position."
Then he leads Lady Eleanor away from the scene of death.
Faerveren orders someone who stands around and isn't looking pale in shock to help her lift the lord. It is rather hard to lift a dead body. But after getting a proper grip it is done and the lord is placed with hands folded and eyes closed on the bed.
Faerveren picks up the paper and reads it. Might ask Persephone later what that is about.
Meanwhile at the docks.
The boats with the crew of the sunken ship arrive at the harbor. Two boats with about 30 very unhappy seamen. After leaving the boats, most of them walk in a straight line to the Blue Marlin.
And all the time, not a single guard from the city watch appeared on the docks.
Menan and Arawyn tie off their horses and go to the Blue Marlin to eavesdrop.
The Blue Marlin is full. Some people are sitting at the tables, some are standing in between with their beers in hand. It's a mix of seamen, dock workers and some of the ladies of the evening business. In between are the waiters handing out ales for coin. One of them stops at Menan and Arawyn with the hands full of mugs. "Take a mug. It's four copper."
The men from the sunken ship curse a lot about the exploding cargo and wonder when the next ship will come that would allow them to get to a bigger harbor to get hired on a another ship. Some are outraged, others seem to enjoy the time off.
Menan takes two and hands over 8 copper.
Menan moves through the crowd listening for what may have caused the exposion.
Arawyn joins him.
No one cares to elaborate about the why. Only one guy rants about this newfangled gunpowder stuff that shouldn't be allowed on ships at all, because basically his world view boils down to 'They tried something new and they died!'
Gunpowder...
Gunpower here?
Gunpowder is a rather exotic alchemical substance. It is not unheard of, but the handheld weapons that use it are loud, slow to reload and overall impractical. There are some large ships or city defenses where cannons are used instead of ballistae, but Abadon has no real defense for the city and therefore only a few have ever seen gunpowder in Abadon.
"Interesting." Menan and Arawyn take their horses for stroll on the beach and enjoy a nice sunset. They head to The Pig's Whistle.