"I can almost..." mutters the young man, peering into the machinery...
A cloud of acid drifts into Thaddeus's face as he peers harder at the device, making his eyes tear and blurring his vision into the mechanism.
"Aaaaah!!!" coughs Thaddeus, rubbing his eyes. "Just let me clear my eyes and then I'll—"cough cough"—figure this out!"
As Thaddeus waves the acid cloud away and rubs his eyes, another wave of acid mist swings his way.
This time, Thaddeus gets a better look at the clockwork mechanism and figures it could be repaired with tools and skills similar to a locksmith's - or one who opens locks. He also glimpses what looks like a wand fastened into the owl's works, possibly the source of its magical energy.
"Aha! Now I've got you!" crows the dashing young man in victory, pulling a small set of tools from his belt. "Just hold still..."
Crooning softly to the mechanisms, he begins to tinker...
As Thaddeus plays dodge-ems with the mechanical birds acid, Emil watches quietly from the side, not wanting to disturb Thadd while he is working, but looking as if he is trying to help by moving Thad's hands for him at times,...
The delicate tools slide easily into the opening in the owl, placing the clockwork gears into their proper slots, and fastening the wand more firmly in place. As he works, the acid gradually subsides.
The acid spray stops completely, and the little owl shakes himself in a bird-like fashion, scrambling to his feed and fluffing his wings out to settle them in the proper slots.
With an odd little bow, he looks up at Thaddeus. "You have my deepest thanks, stranger. It was kind of you to pause from your mission to fix me. It is impossible to express how good it feels to be in control of myself after centuries of flopping about. I am... uh... deeply sorry about spraying you with acid. And very embarrassed."
Emil makes certain that the group is all within range, just in case they have injuries he did not see them receive during the fracas, and salutes with his mug, releasing a pulse of positive energy around himself.
The energy pulse makes those in it feel delightfully light headed for a moment, as if they just drank a shot.
Dawnilea smiles, "Well done, Thaddeus!"
She then smiles at the small clockwork, "We are just pleased to be able to undo some of the evil that Syagara has done... and, now, you can tell the tale of betrayal yourself. Though, if you'd like, we can still bring the evidence that you'd suggested."
”Or both,” Auguste says, dusting himself off from the recent scrap. He has a look around this chamber for anything else of interest.
Thaddeus smiles broadly, wiping off his tools before tucking them into a hidden pocket somewhere on his person. "That's alright, little one," he replies. "Now, shall we continue?"
"I was Italice Cenabra's familiar when she decided to work in a hereditary Cenabra office in the Royal Bureaucracy. Italice worked there during the war, and heard of Honoria's disgrace. I know she did not start the news of the dishonor, nor did she do anything directly about it. She merely performed her duties."
"Syagra Tatranella, a fond friend of Honoria and one of her comrades in arms, was so furious about the false (as she said) disgrace of her commander that, I believe, she became unbalanced. For some reason, she decided Italice deserved the blame for Honoria's disgrace. When she visited my mistress one fatal night, she could not articulate clearly why she thought that. She yelled and made accusations and babbled. Syagra came to deal death, and my mistress was unprepared. Syagra slew Italice and cut off her head, then departed. I decided to follow and spent days trailing her through the wilderness and up the mountainside to Honoria's tomb."
"There, her madness became evident. Though she had a key to the tomb door, she could not call off the guardians of Honoria's tomb, but rampaged through, destroying or disabling all the devices designed to keep her friend's rest safe and undisturbed. She wept and babbled as she placed my mistress's decomposing head and the plaque on Honoria's tomb. I confronted her with her villany as she left the tomb. She struck me down with one blow of her sword, then tossed me in the tomb to keep my mistress company."
"I cannot say why the family did not repair Honoria's resting place, for I have been here for all that time. I know not what the plaque says."
The skull rests in front of the plaque, which in turn is supported by a flat wooden box. The plaque reads, "Here lies Honoria Alcasti, betrayed by her inferiors and those she served. We shall remember her deeds and restore her honor."
The box the plaque leans on is full of military medals and ribbons, and some decrees pronouncing her a hero of that ancient war, apparently before people turned on her.
Amantius speaks again as you examine the contents of the box."I blamed Italice's death on Honoria at first, but I have had a long time to think about events. I no longer believe that. I do believe Honoria acted as a commander should, and that someone slandered her to cause her downfall. My mistress and I never liked her, but that is irrelevant. I think Syagra was unbalanced and acted alone from a misplaced and gruesome loyalty. Centuries do give one time to think things through."
Emil nods at the clockworks story. Although whether his wonder is at the tale, or at the talking clockwork itself, he does not say. Yet.
"Well said Amantius! Hopefully the passage of time will have given rise to cooler heads, and we can restore Honoraria's honor. Speaking of ,..."
Emil gestures to the box.
"I believe that our benefactor will be glad to have this box of medals, ribbons and statements. Further proof to aid in the redemption of her honor."
"Amantius, how recently has anyone else entered this chamber? Before us? Yon mechanical, magical guard dog seems to self repair, so I'm presuming that others passed through here not long ago?"
Amantius shakes his still-damaged head in a disturbingly human manner. "No, I have seen nobody since Syagra threw me in here. Not even Honoria's family."
Dawnilea nods, "Aye, well, given the dishonour and disgrace, that last is not surprising. However, it is one of her descendants, now, seeking to redeem her name and prove -- as you suspected -- that her downfall was due to slander."
The little owl creakily looks up at Dawnilea. "And are you family looking to restore Honoria, or rivals looking to stop the restoration, I wonder. No matter. My concern is with my mistress. Will you return her head - and possibly me - to the Cenebra family, to complete her proper burial?"
He shuffles around on the tomb floor for a few moments, then looks up again. "Whichever faction you are, if you return me to Italice's family, I will tell the truth - the facts that I saw and heard - to anyone who asks, whether friend or foe of Honoria's. I was created to be accurate."
Dawni says, "We are working for the scion seeking to repair the relationship... and we will quite happily return you -- and the head -- to the Cenebra."
As Dawni states her intent to return the head of Iatrice to the Cenabra family, the chamber floods with a warm, peaceful feeling, though nothing happens that the party can see.
At the feeling that suddenly washes through him, Emil blinks, and looks suspiciously at his holy mug. He turns it upside down. Nothing falls out.
"Oh. So THAT'S why the mugs always empty."
"Well, if our mechanical friend has not seen anyone besides us recently. Then we can likely proceed with more speed? If no less caution."
Dawnilea nods, "Agreed. Though even this testimony will likely be helpful to the cause."
You head back to Oppara. The trip is difficult while descending the mountains. Once you arrive on the plains, it then seems like a pleasant ride through the countryside.
Amantius rides pillion on all the horses at one point. Periodically, he repeats the story of his mistress's murder and entombment, vowing to tell everyone of Syagra's villanous insanity as often as he can. Occasionally, he perches on the bulge in the saddlebag holding Italice's skull.
You enter through the Lionsgate (pink on the map), seeing Oppara rise before you to the imperial levels in the middle, and upward to the Basilica of the last man, perched on the highes point. It is the golden hour, giving the entire city a deep, shining patina which makes even the poor districts look beautiful. You figure the sun will be down in an hour.
Amantius tells you the directions to the Cenabri family estate in the Imperial District - at least, that is where the Cenabris lived centuries ago. He assuries the highest quality families generally remain at their family estates through the centuries, so they are likely still there. (Green on the map)
Remaio Alcasti lives further along the canal, towards the river where the merchants, traders, ship captains, and bankers live. The Canal Row area is neat and tidy, with brightly painted houses fronting well-kept streets. (Yellow on the map)
You are at liberty to choose your destination. Where do you go?
Dawnilea suggests, "Let's start by reporting in to Remaio - and to ensure he can hear Amantius' tale first-hand - before returning our little friend to his mistress' family."
Thaddeus nods in agreement with Dawnilea's proposal. "Yes, I'd say if they've waited a few hundred years they can wait another evening, eh?"
Remaio welcomes you and enthusiastically examines the honors and awards you retrieved. He is puzzled by the owl, until Amantius launches into the happenings after Honoria was interred, including the promise you made to return Italice's head and his own person to the Cenabri family. He looks to you for confirmation, then ponders a moment.
"That whole story is quite ugly. I can see how it might taint Honoria's memory in several ways. But it was your finding and your promise, so I will not interfere with your course of action. Besides, the party I hired returning remains to the Cenabris might reflect well on me." He sighs. "Public perception is so difficult to manage."
His attentions return to the box of honors. "Oh! I've seen that one in the journal and letters you returned to me from Andoran. These all look like old friends. Surely this will prove her invaluable service and the administrative difficulties she faced." Remaio rubs his hands together, looking over all the family heirlooms and treasures you have recovered for him.
"And you have earned your reward and more," Remaio continues, writing out the draw on his account and handing it over.
"I have one last thing to ask of you. I believe there is enough now to move forward with my petition. Various friends - who have counciled me and agree to help me organize the material and my own thoughts - have been dropping a good word or two in court. I plan to petition Princess Eutropa's court - a court for smaller matters that do not need full Senate attention. When I receive the invitation to attend, would you accompany me and tell your stories just as you experienced them? That way, it will not look like I am telling tales on my behalf. You will provide impartial evidence, since you are not my retainers, and I am unlikely to hire you again... not for any purpose I can foresee. Will you do that? It will also give you the opportunity to meet many of the nobility, who may have more use of your services than I can provide."
He smiles at everyone, then remembers who he's talking to and fetches a large bottle of wine and some glasses. "A toast! To your success and mine, my good people!" After a sip, he smiles. "So will you attend court with me? I can send you a notice when everything is scheduled."
”A chance to spin an interesting tale to a royal audience? I could never turn down such an opportunity. And, my experience tells me that such affairs provide no end of entertainment and… inspiration… for my next pamphlet.” Auguste gives a wry grin and drinks deeply from his wine glass.
Dawnilea nods, "We would be honoured to do so, Remaio."
Thaddeus grins at the prospect of connections to the court. Ah, finally a way in... and I didn't even have to fight much to get it! Maybe the court will still want a fight or two, though. To prove we're trustworthy.
Realizing he hasn't yet answered their host's question, he nods and replies with one of his rehearsed-sounding responses. "It would be my honor to assist in this matter."
"Excellent, excellent," Remaio responds, his eyes sweeping the room to savor all Honoria's treasures. "I will send for you when I have secured an invitation. Thank you all so much!"
He bows you out. Through the window, you can see him rush to his desk and scribble excitedly.
Dawnilea says, "So, let's get our little friend home... only a few decades late. Who knows, maybe they'll be so grateful for the restoration and the news they'll share some wine?"
"I'll drink to that," Auguste says.
Emil gladly agrees to go to court on Remario's behalf when asked. And even more gladly partakes of the offered wine.
= = = =
"I'll drink to that," Auguste says.
"I already have. And I'll do it agin!" Emil slurs cheerfully, raising his mug in salute.
Emil is happy to assist in returning the owl and 'remains' to the proper family. He is confident in his own tale-telling, but would never turn down an opportunity to witness a master story-weaver like Auguste at work. (Any tips and tricks he might pick up can only help him when wooing the ladies!)
It would have been easy to find the Cenabri estate even without Amantius' direction. It is one of the large compounds in a very rich and old-looking part of the city. Foot traffic thins there, and you look out of place among the well-dressed household servants running errands, and the occasional nobles paying social calls.
The gates are open for the servants and messengers popping in and out of the estate. The door opens when you ring, and is answered by a livried servant.
He politely informs you that the family is away visiting a country estate this week, and he cannot let you in. He calls a footman, though to take the package if you would care to leave it for their attention when they return.
A little over two weeks later, letters arrive at each of your residences. They are from Remaio, and read as follows.
Most esteemed allies,
You will be proud of me, I hope. Not only have I managed us all invitations to court, but I have also caught the ear of Princess Eutropia herself! With your evidence of Honaria’s greatness in hand, I know the princess will listen to us. I’ve provided you with fine clothes for the evening so you won’t look too out of place, and written a lovely speech for the occasion. Don’t worry; I’ll signal you to chime in at the proper points. I’ve taken care of everything, so just focus on looking your best.
I will meet you in front of the palace, and we can proceed to Princess Eutropia's court together the evening of 25 Erasmus 4718.
Regards,
Remaio Alcasti
The delivery also includes a good-sized box containing a courtier's outfit and the location of a tailor where you can get it fitted. The note says the tailor can recommend a jewler's or two for the accompanying pretties.
Emil is delighted when he reads the letter.
More so the third and fourth times he reads it. (after the accompanying drinks of course.)
Emil suddenly stops, lowers the letter, and stares out the window of his humble room.
"Where am I going to find jewelry?!? I need shopping advice!"
And out the door he staggers, to find one his more frequent 'lady friends' for advice. And maybe some fun!
Dawnilea shakes her head, "Can we leave a note? The package is rather... unique... and we would much prefer being able to provide the full tale of its recovery, rather than leaving a package behind?"
Dawnilea looks at Remaio's note and opens the box, shaking her head with a sigh, A lovely dress... It's actually not too different than the one my parents bought for my engagement party.. Simpler, sure, but the same basic cut... Guess I've been away so long that things have come back into style... She chuckles slightly, Well, I guess that means I know the right jewellery to accent it...., then the chuckle becomes a full laugh as she finishes the thought, ...Hells, I even know where I sold just the right pieces on the way out of Oppara. She pauses, then smiles wickedly, I... wonder if they're still there to be bought back? Suddenly, I rather relish the idea of wearing family jewels.
"Certainly, signora." He bows, opens the door, and ushers the group into the foyer, where a stack of paper and envelopes, a quill and ink, wax and a plain seal, and a silver tray upon which several sealed envelopes already rest.
"Would you care for refreshments?" he offers, tugging on a long, embroidered pull in the corner. In a few seconds, a young lad in a less-expensive version of the butler's outfit appears and stands at attention.
"Matteo, please bring a candle and..." He looks in your direction. "Refreshments?"