Twenty-four years have passed since the Glorious Reclamation's attempt to overthrow House Thrune and liberate Cheliax from its infernal masters. Twenty-four years since Imperia Tanessen crushed the rebellion and won the heart of Her Infernal Majestrix, Abrogail Thrune II. Six years after marrying Abrogail, Imperia bore her a son. Inheriting the psychic powers of his mother, the boy received the finest training money could buy. Combined with his innate natural talent and a few infernal boons, he quickly has become one of the most powerful psychics on Golarion. Now, the time has come to put his powers to the test...
25 Lamshan, 4739 AR
Revolution has been a way of life in Galt for more than 70 years. The country cut its ties with imperial Cheliax in the Red Revolution of 4667 AR. The interim government set up to oversee the nation after the ouster of its wealthy nobility, the Revolutionary Council, has been overhauled dozens of times, as new leaders insist they can rule more intelligently, fairly, or peacefully than the last and rise up in bloody rebellion against the prior regime. The former leaders are often sent to the final blades, magical guillotines that trap and contain the souls of those they behead (that the guillotines have fanciful names like Razor Jenni or Sharp-Tooth Hana doesn’t make them any less ominous to the populace). Whether renamed as the Common Council, the Eye of Law, the Galtcreed Pact, or any other moniker, each Revolutionary Council merely follows its predecessors in an ongoing cycle of chaos and revolution that Galt can’t escape.
Galt’s only stable organization is the Gray Gardeners, its secret police and executioners. They operate the nation’s prisons and own the menacing final blades. Gray Gardeners always wear masks, rarely speak, and perform their grim business throughout all of Galt. Beneath a Gray Gardener’s mask might be a stranger, a neighbor, or a relative; even speculating about a Gray Gardener’s identity in public invites intense scrutiny from the organization. The Gray Gardeners are only nominally subject to the Revolutionary Council’s authority. In truth, they operate as they see fit from their headquarters, an imposing riverside monastery in the city of Litran. Past Galtan governments have called upon the executioners to unmask and reveal their identities. The Gray Gardeners refused. Other leaders have called upon them to give up the secrets of their final blades. The Gray Gardeners refused. Civil inspectors have demanded accounting of Gray Gardener expenses and scrutiny of its facilities. The Gray Gardeners not only refused these requests, but often named the requestors criminals and sent them swiftly to the final blades. Everyone in Galt fears the Gray Gardeners, and many whisper that it’s the masked executioners, and not the fickle politicians on the Revolutionary Council, that keep Galt shackled in chaos.
Chaos is anathema to life in Cheliax. Order and stability are paramount there, as evidenced by their alliance with the devils of Hell. But an opportunity to quell the chaos in Galt and perhaps cultivate a powerful new ally may have just presented itself...
An urgent invitation arrived several days ago in the court of Her Infernal Majestrix. The letter asked for a representative of Cheliax's queen to meet with Camilia Drannoch, leader of Galt's Revolutionary Council. The queen and her consort have deemed fit to send their heir to meet with her in Galt's capital, Isarn, escorted by the savage alchemist, Jordanna Carver. No doubt, it will be an eye-opening experience for the young man...
"I can see why Mother dislikes travelling." The young man said, the sneer on his lips evidencing quite clearly his disdain for the dirty road, the unpleasant weather and the sorry state of the city he has just arrived in. "While part of the Empire Galt was a fine and prosperous nation." He continues, looking around with a gaze full of judgement. "This shows the folly of rebellion and chaos. Still, perhaps they have begun to see the light."
With a gentle tap of his heels the Crown Prince of Cheliax spurs his horse forwards to enter Isarn proper. He may ride with but a single companion but his posture and confidence would not look out of place at the head of a conquering army, and in his mind Maximus is imagining exactly that...
"Doubtful," Jordanna scoffs. "These people have willingly embraced chaos and bloodshed for decades. It is a way of life for them. It would take something truly cataclysmic to reverse that trend." She smirks at that thought, her mismatched eyes, one hazel and one slate gray, gleaming.
Now in her early forties, the changeling has matured into her savage beauty. There are few gray streaks in her brown braids, and her face is a bit more weathered, but she is still possessed of all of her strength and vitality of youth, doubtless enhanced by her alchemical elixirs and mutagens. She stills wears her raven-feather cloak over little else, her belly swollen once more her alchemically altered demonspawn familiar rests inside of her womb.
"We trust in Asmodeus." Maximus replies calmly. "Galt will return in time, and perhaps we shall be the ones to ensure it." He casts a glance at his 'aunt'. "Would you consider a cloak Auntie? There are certain formalities to be observed and I don't want to make finding suitable lodgings any harder in this benighted place."
Jordanna rolls her eyes. "You sound like your mom. But yes, I am well aware of the prudishness inherent to eh so-called 'civilized' societies of the world. I'll cover up before we get to the city."
Isarn once was a city of art that was graced by beautiful architecture, green parks, and statuary. Isarn's public monuments and buildings, once so famed that designers from both Avistan and Garund competed for the right to add to their grandeur, have fallen into blood-splattered disrepair since the beginning of the Red Revolution. Despite its current dilapidated condition, the city's overall design harkens back to the monumental architecture of the Age of Destiny, with engraved cobblestones, wide plazas and parks, sweeping bridges, and colorful mosaics. Most of the statues have been toppled, the mosaics are spattered with blood, and the plazas and parks now ring with the haunted wails of the homeless who have flocked to the city in search of food.
The seat of government is the Monolith, a blackened fortress and prison, in front of which stands the final blade known as Madame Margaery, a guillotine kept well-oiled by the Gray Gardeners. Your mothers briefed you on Camilia Drannoch before you left Egorian. She became a household name and earned a seat on the Revolutionary Council by exposing one of the previous governments, the Eye of Law, as a hag coven. Since then, she has survived multiple coups, and became Chairwoman when her predecessor Korran Goss was torn apart by an angry mob. She has enacted several popular reforms to bring back some stability, notably putting an end to xenophobic policies and improving foreign relations.
However, the invitation directed you to meet with Camilia Drannoch not in the Monolith but in her humble manor. Rumors swirl that she is confined to her home with some mysterious malady. Camilia’s steward ushers you into a gloomy study that has been repainted and redecorated with each change in Galt’s leadership—that is, a dozen times or more in the past generation alone. Despite the oppressive decor, Camilia is cheerful and eager to meet you. She also appears plainly in good health, dressed in a well-tailored outfit and the bright red scarf she always wears around her neck to honor her mother, who died to one of the final blades.
"Thank you for coming, Prince Tanessen-Thrune. I hope the long journey was a pleasant one."
She gestures for you to have a seat, and after some brief pleasantries, she gets down to business. “As an initial matter, I apologize for the misdirection in bringing you here. I’m playing a dangerous political game—one in which I hope you’ll join me—and a bit of deception helps us both. You likely already know that the Gray Gardeners are Galt’s ruthless executioners. They maintain the final blades, magical guillotines of such power that they trap the souls of executed victims within them. The Gray Gardeners have a stranglehold on Galt’s future. Their arrests, executions, and political machinations ensure my country can’t ever rise from the stew of chaos in which it’s boiled for nearly three quarters of a century. Because the Gray Gardeners are always masked or hooded, no one knows who they are. Maybe they’re magistrates or shopkeepers. Or perhaps they’re beggars or cultists.
“I have hated the Gray Gardeners from the moment they executed my mother in the final blade named Silent Lenore, many years ago. But I knew enough to play the long game politically, and I’ve risen to the top of Galt’s messy politics while waiting for a moment to strike back against the worst villains of Galt.
“That moment is now.
“The Gray Gardeners operate out of an old monastery in the riverside city of Litran. But now, they have taken the unprecedented step of opening their headquarters. They’ve announced a great masquerade ball within the Gray Monastery and invited the nation’s most prominent citizens, celebrities, and magistrates. These elite invitees, so rumors hold, will see the Gray Gardeners unmask themselves, revealing who among them are members of the secret police. This event, the Midnight Unmasking, will occur at the end of the masquerade ball. All attendees must be masked, and all will drop their masks as one at the stroke of midnight.
"I have reliable intelligence that the masquerade the executioners are hosting has an ulterior motive, and their leadership is being recalled to Litran for this. Dignitaries from across Galt are attending, and it’s likely some of those dignitaries are themselves Gray Gardeners. I received an invite, but I’m feigning sickness and staying here for three reasons. First, I want to quell the ridiculous suspicions that I’m one of the Gray Gardeners by not going at all. Second, my illness gives a good reason for agents I trust—you—to visit Litran in the guise of seeking a rare herbal remedy. Finally, I don’t trust myself to keep my sword out of my hand around those responsible for murdering my mother and so many others.”
Camilia goes on to outline the rest of her plan. She has a trusted friend in Litran named Keznin Nevarmo. Keznin is an herbalist and a follower of Pharasma, goddess of birth and death. You should go to Litran to meet with Keznin, perhaps letting people know you’re consulting with the herbalist to make a concoction to aid Camilia. Such concoctions take time to prepare, giving you time to look around Litran and find out as much as you can about the Gray Gardeners: why they’re meeting, who their key leaders are, and what they’re planning. If you see a good opportunity to infiltrate or even overthrow this wicked organization, you should definitely take it. A better chance might never come again.
Jordanna rolls her eyes. "You sound like your mom. But yes, I am well aware of the prudishness inherent to eh so-called 'civilized' societies of the world. I'll cover up before we get to the city."
"My mother is usually right." Maximus replies, a slight smile twitching his lips, "But thank you, regardless." Having been brought up around the erratic malificer Maximus has something of a soft-spot for his honorary aunt. She isn't the most refined of people, but that's something of a delight in Egorian and there is no doubt as to her significant abilities.
-----------------------------------
"You are naturally aware that this is a trap?" Maximus asks with a raised eyebrow. "The Grey Gardeners, the most secret group in Avistan, are willingly unmasking themselves at a grand ball in their headquarters? Never. I believe they are trying to take a page from my families book. Anyone in attendance at the ball, at midnight will be massacred. If anything your best chance is to ensure that a number of beloved heroes of the people are in attendance, their deaths would give you the uniting force to raise the populace against the Gardeners and perhaps end them once and for all. But somehow I suspect you won't be taking that route." Even though it would work spectacularly well.
"Still, the Gardeners are a menace to society. Galt will be better off without them." He leans forward, focusing his not inconsiderable presence on Camilla Drannoch. "And what are your plans for afterwards, Chairwoman? What future do you see for Galt?"
If I am to risk life and limb there had best be some benefit. He thinks inwardly, watching the woman closely. Returning Galt to the Empire would be quite a coup, and good practise in rulership."
"I suspect that it is a trap, yes," Camilia says. "But there is nobody in Galt powerful enough to stand a chance against the Gray Gardeners should it come to battle against them. And I would not so willingly commit my people to be slaughtered just so that I might use them as martyrs."
She narrows her eyes, meeting your gaze as you lean forward. "I see a future for Galt in which the constant cycle of death that has plagued our nation for so long finally comes to an end. The country will never realize its full potential while the Gray Gardeners contribute to its cultural decline. Galt needs stability, and if I have to make a deal with a literal devil to find that stability, then so be it.
"I will ensure that all know that it was Cheliax that rescued Galt and restored order to the land. I cannot go so far as to promise a return to your empire, but a staunch and loyal ally in the east will surely please Her Imperial Majestrix. Do this, and both of our nations will benefit and prosper."
"I serve the will of Her Inferal Majestrix and Our Lord Asmodeus in all things." Maximus replies, his tone perfectly neutral. "I trust you have considered the consequences of what will happen if things do not go as you plan? Although perhaps I would do better to let the Gardeners themselves know on that front..." Fire, death and legions of devils impaling every gray gardener on spikes before their own guillotines - Maximus fully expects someone to attempt to kill him, despite the fact that the consequences of his death would almost certainly be far worse than anything he might do. Worst case one of his mothers might become involved...
"A toast then, to a prosperous future between Cheliax and Galt. Long may we rise together in amity and friendship." A politician's words, using a lot to say nothing but inside Maximus is grinning - this actually sounds like a challenge and he would be a liar if he said he didn't want that.
Camilia fills two wine glasses and clinks her against yours. "To the future," she agrees.
***
Overland travel from Isarn to Litran is simple but takes 3 days. If you ask anyone on the road about the Gray Gardeners, you learn basically what Camilia already told you: the Gray Gardeners have some event planned in their monastery headquarters in Litran, and many dignitaries and Gray Gardeners from across Galt are headed to the event. Most are traveling without any fanfare; the nature and timing of the event aren’t public knowledge. Most commoners add a knowing look and a comment like, “not that I’d ever get an invitation to such an event, but I wouldn’t be comfortable among so many executioners, regardless.”
Once you are within a day of Litran, you notice an increased number of travelers on their way to the city from outlying farms and settlements. Litran holds harvest festivals in most years, celebrating its important role as the nexus for food distribution throughout Galt, but this year is the long-delayed Harvest Jubilee, a particularly large festival. The Harvest Jubilee was supposed to be held two years ago, on the 70th anniversary of the Red Revolution, but chaos throughout the nation meant the continuous postponement of the Jubilee. This year, it’s finally happening. Although farmers and ranchers have their suspicions of the city-dwellers, the Harvest Jubilee is a strong draw, and many people are coming into town to attend.
The Gray Gardeners came to Litran 72 years ago, during the Red Revolution in which Galt declared its bloody independence from Imperial Cheliax. Litran has always been a hub of commerce and agriculture for the region thanks to its bountiful plains and wide river suitable for navigation. Once, Litran hosted good-natured rivalries between farmers, ranchers, and fisherfolk at its teeming markets, to everyone’s benefit. Now, it’s a grim and gloomy city where factions fight against each other, assassinations and executions are commonplace, and everyone dances as the Gray Gardeners pull their strings.
Situated where the flat, fertile Horun Plain meets the Stormflood River, Litran stands between the bounty of the land and the easy access of the water. The terrain throughout Litran is mostly flat, with the singular exception of the dark thrust of rock at the river’s edge, upon which the Gray Gardeners’ monastery looms over the city like a grim tombstone. The Stormflood River makes a sharp turn to the east as it flows north to the Sellen River, its flow steady and strong but not dangerous. Despite its name, the Stormflood River rarely spills over its banks and floods the town—there are wide, marshy areas north of the city where the floodwaters spread instead.
Nearly all of the land within miles of Litran is under cultivation. Most of it is devoted to raising grain, but grassy pastures for grazing livestock, enormous orchards in long rows, and fields of colorful flowers also march to the horizon. Tall rows of trees or dense hedges screen the major roadways leading away from the city and demarcate old property lines, giving the region a patchwork look.
The atmosphere of Litran is tense, bordering on paranoid at the best of times; it is, after all, the seat of the Gray Gardeners’ power. Their imposing monastery is visible from nearly everywhere within the city, looming like a grim monolith. With so many strangers in town for the Harvest Jubilee, coupled with rampant rumors that some event is occurring within the monastery during the festival, locals are even more paranoid than usual.
***
Camilia's friend, Keznin Nevarmo, operates a shop called Soul Mother's Herbs that is tucked into a side street. Visitors likely smell it before seeing it: flowering plants and aromatic herbs festooning the shop give the entire street a pleasant fragrance. Anyone asked about the shop has a good impression of its owner, a tengu and known Pharasmin. Keznin is particularly known for his herbs that aid in childbirth or those that ease the pain of dying; midwives, alchemists, and healers from Litran and beyond frequent Keznin’s shop for supplies.
Keznin is a fussy, fashionably dressed tengu. When you arrive, you find him busy grinding a handful of herbs to make a poultice, but his darting eyes look up quickly to assess you. “Greetings,” the raven-headed tengu caws, setting down his pestle and extending his hand in welcome. “Keznin Nevarmo, herbalist, at your service. I suspect you’ve come a long way. Please, come in and close the door behind you so we can talk about what you need.”
Maximus grasps the tengu's claw firmly, trusting that Jordanna will shut the door.
"It is a pleasure to meet you Citizen Nevarmo. I have been sent by a friend of yours in the capital to collect a poultice. She is quite ill at the moment and I was told that you were the only person who would be able to affect a suitable remedy. I trust you remember Camilla?"
Keznin bobs his head. "Of course, of course. Right this way." He ushers you through his greenhouse into a spacious sitting room, closes the curtains, and takes a seat.
"Camilia told me she would be sending agents. Here's what I know. The Gray Gardeners’ event is an invitation-only masquerade ball. It will be held in 3 nights. Invitations seem virtually impossible to come by. Certainly, those with invitations don’t advertise that they have them.
"The masque will be held in the great ballroom of the Gray Gardeners’ monastery headquarters. The Gray Gardeners have always kept their monastery closed to outsiders—even learning that the old monastery had a ballroom was news to many people! This event provides unprecedented access to the mysterious Gray Gardener leadership.
"With so many people in town for the Harvest Jubilee, it’s hard to know for sure who’s planning to attend the masque. There are certainly far more people here for the public Harvest Jubilee than for the exclusive masque. The crowds provide anonymity, which seems to be just how the Gray Gardeners and their invitees prefer it.
"There seem to be more Gray Gardeners in town than usual, and many of these could be highly placed in their clandestine leadership. Ostensibly, they’ve come for the masquerade, but the Gray Gardeners might have other operations in town, too. There are rumors that the Gray Gardeners are planning some kind of revelation or announcement for the masque attendees, but even the invitees don’t know what it will be. I think it's safe to assume that whatever it is won't be good for Galt."
The tengu bobs his head. "That's what I've been able to learn. I'd suggest you investigate around town, gather some information. Finding out more about the masque, the Gray Gardeners, the invitees, and the Gray Monastery would be good starting points.
"You are welcome to stay here in my shop if you'd like. Accommodations in the city are hard to come by due to the influx from the countryside for the Harvest Jubilee, but there is an upscale inn called the Stalwart Patriot that could suit your needs if you can somehow find an opening."
"An invitation will not be hard to come by." Maximus replies, with all the confidence of royalty. "My thanks for your offer, but I will attempt the Stalwart Patriot. It is bad manners to intrude on one's home when it is not required." He pauses to ensure that he hasn't offended the tengu - at least not excessively.
"As to your advice, it is much appreciated. We will certainly take in the sights of the town and see what we can learn. My thanks again for your time and effort."
Since there seems to be little else to be said the prince takes his leave, having secured directions for the Stalwart Patriot and bends his path in that direction. If gold does not secure lodgings then his name certainly should.
The Stalwart Patriot is not far from Keznin's shop. This upscale inn caters to visitors from Isarn or points further north. The inn’s mascot, a suit of animated armor draped in the Galtan flag, ceaselessly patrols a widow’s walk extending from the inn’s third story.
You are able to secure the most expensive room in the inn with little trouble. Once you have unloaded your travel gear, Jordanna looks to you. "So, how should we proceed? Stick together and inquire about the same topic, or split up to cover more ground?"
"Split up." Maximus says decisively. "I intend to secure invitations for this ball, and I do not intend who I am in the process. Let the Gardeners think twice about what will be happening at their little party. That means I am going to be conspicuous. I will use that to my advantage, but you will have to deal with those matters requiring a little more discussion. And Auntie, please don't kill anyone yet. There's no need."
With the plan made, and having taken time to freshen up Maximus sets out in all his finery, intent on securing invitations. He does so in the most expedient manner possible - sending a message to the monastry announcing his presence. If that doesn't work no doubt other avenues will open up.
Revealing the presence of the heir to the throne of Cheliax in town, as expected, gets you exactly what you want. It isn't long before an invitation to the masque arrives at the Stalwart Patriot for you and your "entourage."
With that matter secured, you head out in town to ask around about the masque and the other invitees. Over the course of the day, you learn that the event’s dress code calls for costumes—complete with intricate masks, of course—and most attendees plan to appear in elaborate and expensive outfits. The premier place in Litran to acquire high fashion is a shop called the Oval Mirror.
It’s difficult to know which of the people coming into town might be going to the masque because they keep it to themselves. Locals might be a bit more open to boasting about attending the masque, particularly when acquiring appropriate attire from Litran’s most esteemed tailor, Miona Rallaree, at The Oval Mirror. Additionally, there’s an invitation rumored to be for sale by someone from Isarn who has purchased one of the old mills and is renovating it into a grand residence.
Jordanna returns to the inn that evening, having spent the day skulking about the town and eavesdropping various conversations. She shares what she has learned:
All around Galt, the Gray Gardeners have been moving the final blades from city to city. A cartographer named Tristel Liendi supposedly knows more specifics about these unusual movements. Jordanna can tell you where to find her shop.
The most experienced killers in the Gray Gardeners are their assassins. The assassins don’t usually arrest people or oversee beheadings; they just murder the guilty in their homes or on the streets. The person repeating this rumor insisted—with an obvious lack of faith in what they say—that these killings are a good thing and necessary for Galt’s afety. In a hushed tone, the person mentioned that Zintaya Calbieste, the leader of Litran’s farming collective, is allegedly one of these assassins. She can be found at the cooperative meeting hall.
The leaders of the Gray Gardeners are called directors general. They only rarely leave the monastery. The leaders are mostly humans, but the leaders’ special agents are mortics, people who aren’t quite human but aren’t quite undead.
The monastery where they make their headquarters is so old that it predates Galt by millennia, though it was an abandoned ruin before the Gray Gardeners established their headquarters there just over 70 years ago. Any deity or philosophy the monastery might once have been dedicated to is long forgotten. In its center is a grand ballroom, surrounded by offices, dining halls, and servants’ rooms. The Gray Gardeners maintain very few servants, all of whom live in the old monastic cells and never leave the monastery.
"So many threads to pull." Maximus says meditatively, allowing Jordanna's information to percolate in his mind. "I must pay a visit to Miona Rallaree. While I doubt that she will have anything suitable it seems that her shop is a center for gossip and will be worth the time. That will be first thing, so that we might have a reason to be wandering idly. After that I will visit this cartographer, hopefully your particular skill set will not be required there Auntie. Zintaya Calbieste..." He pauses, thinking through ramifications. "Is harder to predict. Catching her in the act would be useful, but most likely impractical even for you. Mother would simply break her will and I could try something similar but that is not my skill set." He pauses. "If we could question her quietly I suspect I could extract answers, although it would likely be a very slow process, and noisy. Could you look for a suitable location Auntie? Somewhere we could spirit this 'co-operative' leader away to for a quiet chat? We would have to strike hard and fast so it is not something to do lightly, but it is an option. If we need it."
With tasks assigned for the morning to come Maximus turns in early. He has always found that a restful night's sleep does wonders for his complexion, and primes his magic.
After resting overnight, you head to the Oval Mirror the following morning. The shop’s owner, Miona Rallaree, recently expanded her shop’s principal wares to include ornate masks and matching outfits. Miona won’t sell a simple white mask when she can create an alabaster volto mask attached to an elaborate feathered hat, along with a coordinating doublet sewn with gold thread to accompany a pair of deep-yellow pants and gold-colored shoes. Miona’s outre excesses have earned her the patronage of many Galtan elites who want to be seen on the cutting edge of fashion, but with her newfound reputation as the principal fashion supplier for the masque, her business is nonstop.
When you arrive at the Oval Mirror, Miona glides gracefully from her shop’s back room while wearing a gown of velvet, beads, and oversized buttons. Her pale hair is piled high in curls pinned up to resemble a blossoming flower. A few of Miona’s employees conduct business with other patrons around the edge of the shop.
"Hello, hello, beautiful people!" Miona says. "You are looking for the latest fashions to make a splash at the upcoming masque, no? You have come to the right place! There is no other designer in Galt who can match my styles, I assure you!"
"No doubt." Maximus replies, managing to keep the sneer from his tone. "I am Maximus Thrune, Crown Prince of Cheliax. Since I will be attending the Gala I have come to see what the most renowned tailor in Galt can offer. I had not expected to find a woman as ravishing as you."
In truth she's a little much for his taste, but despite that the Prince enjoys a challenge and seeing Miss Rallaree out of her dress might prove an interesting diversion.
”Ooh, la la! A prince! And a handsome one, at that! Well, your grace, you have come to the right place! I have the best fashions around! I will ensure you will look stunning for the upcoming masque. You, and your...eh, associate.”
Miona looks askance at Jordanna, who gives her a curled-lip snarl.
”Come, come! Let us get your measurements!”
"Your Highness." Maximus corrects, softening it with a smile. "But you can call me Maximus, if I may call you Miona?" He throws in a wink for good measure.
"Jordanna is a very unique individual. She has a keen appreciation of style however, so do consult with her. I'm sure between you there will be something excellent to be found."
Following the seamstress to the measuring room Maximus moves to shrug off his coat. "Will this suffice, or should I remove my shirt also?" He asks lightly.
Miona blushes and puts a gloved hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle. ”But of course, your high—Maximus! I do not believe I have ever made a dress for a woman so... enceinte, but I am up to the challenge!”
Once the pair are alone in the measuring room, the designer taps her lip. ”Hmm... I think you hand better take off your shirt. So, you know, we can get a more accurate measurement...”
She takes her measuring tape and begins checking the length of your arms and legs. ”So, prince of Cheliax. You must live an exciting life, no? Surely, you have no shortage of interesting tales from the courts of Egorian!”
"From what I understand the court at Egorian is rather less interesting than most." Maximus says, working hard not to squirm as the tape measure brushes over a ticklish spot. "Her Majesty keeps a tight hand on the reins, as I'm sure you can imagine but I am well aware that not everyone possesses the loyalty my family would like. Why, not long before I left I found an intruder in my bedchamber, two in fact!" He gives Miona a sly smile and it is easy to see where this story is going. "A man and a woman both, very attractive I must say, although I'm not entirely sure you'd approve of their dress sense." He leans down to whisper hotly in the woman's ear. "Since they weren't wearing any."
"What was I to do?" He continues, continuing to whisper intimately against the woman's skin. "Clearly it was a trap of some sort, an attempt to snare me into an alliance or plot, but the bait was very tempting and I must confess," One hand trails slowly down Miona's exposed neck, "I do not always deal well with temptation. I prefer to take what I want."
Miona's breath shudders as you caress her neck. "Oh, y-yes... Temptation can be very difficult to resist. So... what did you do, Maximus?"
"I had them both of course." Maximus replies, drawing Miona up and into his arms. "I took her in my arms and kissed her neck." He demonstrates. "I ran my hands down her back, to enjoy the feel of her skin." His hands do exactly that, the elaborate dress falling away in front of him thanks to the expert touch of his telekinetic abilities. "And then I pushed her to her knees so that I could taste his lips and she could taste me..."
Maximus's trousers, Miona's dress and her knees hit the floor at the exact same moment.
Once sated Maximus allows the seamstress to complete her work, although he does insist that she does so before putting her dress back on - there's no reason he can't enjoy a show while he's standing still.
"This masquerade must be quite the boon to your trade." He says as he helps Miona redress, neglecting to mention the smears around her rouged mouth. "Do you have any idea what possessed the Gardeners to host such an event? It seems... unlike them."
"I do not know," Miona says, her knees still a little weak from the rough treatment. "All I know about those Gray Gardeners is that they make truly grim fashion choices! But I hear the masque is going to be the event of the season! I did not receive an invitation, alas, but Lord Alastrin Harble mentioned during his fitting that his declining health might render him unable to attend. He hoped somebody trustworthy would represent him at the party.
"Aside from him, I know that Litran's head magistrate will be attending the masque. Otvald Gharmino, poor thing! His personal bodyguards were identified as traitors and executed just a few days ago! And of course, Zintaya Calbieste will be there, too. She is the leader of Litran's farmer's cooperative. Such an enchanting woman, that one!"
"Really?" Maximus asks, interested to note that Calbieste's name is coming up again so soon. "How so? I've never yet heard of a farmer that anyone would call 'enchanting'."
Miona smiles. "She is a hero around Litran! A hardworking elf who ascended through the administrative ranks of the Litran farmer’s cooperative, applying her long memory and keen eye for detail to ensure farmers get better rates for their crops and advocating to keep taxes low. To the farmers, she is both an institution and a champion. She has such passion and conviction... Ooh, la la!" The fashion designer stops to fan herself.
"She sounds like quite the revolutionary darling." Maximus replies, before letting the subject slip in order to not seem too interested. "Now, what designs are you considering? I must specify that I prefer to be striking by simplicity rather than ostentatious - power should speak for itself."
You work with Miona, and once you settle on a suitable style for your outfit, you bid her adieu. The designer’s assistants pointedly avoid making eye contact as you leave the shop with a smirking Jordanna.
”Enjoy yourself?” the changeling asks. ”While you were getting your rocks off, I learned a few things from the other employees.”
• Lord Alastrin Harble was substantially more ill than he let on when he last came to the shop.
• High Magistrate Otvald Gharmino barely escaped the final blade when his bodyguards were arrested. The man doesn’t have Galt’s best interests in mind, and the Gray Gardeners know it.
• Zintaya Calbieste is widely believed to be a Gray Gardener and it’s best to be cautious around the canny administrator.
”What’s our next step?”
"She was good enough." Maximus replies calmly, "Enthusiastic at least. Well done for everything else. I'm curious about this Lord Harble, is it simply local gossip that obsesses over his illness or is he actually important in some way? The High Magistrate seems interesting - a visit is probably in order. As for the farmer... I do not know. If we could prove it then I would have few doubts, but we can't. Yet. Continue to investigate, break into her home if you have to, I will pay a visit to the High Magistrate."
As Jordanna slinks off to do as asked, you head to Litran’s Juridical Building. High Magistrate Otvald Gharmino is a red-faced, older man with heavy jowls and a great paunch born of an idle, intellectual life. He wears small spectacles and keeps his white hair cut short. He has steady and piercing dark eyes.
”Yes? What are you doing in my courtroom?” he asks with a hint of annoyance.
"I have come to speak with you High Magistrate." Maximus says calmly, well aware that the man has nothing to back his bluster with. "As a representative of Cheliax I am naturally concerned as to the future of Galt and its prosperity and it has come to my attention that you are a man who might understand this. Is there somewhere private that we may speak?"
Otvald ushers you into his private office and closes the door behind him. "Alright, then. What has Cheliax got to say?"
"Cheliax is concerned by the constant instability of Galt." Maximus replies, stating no more than the truth. "Such an anarchic state represents a threat to Cheliax's own borders, quite apart from the fact that Galt itself rightfully belongs to the Infernal Empire. Whilst Her Infernal Majestrix has no intention of forcing the issue with Galt," At the moment. "That does not mean that the Grey Gardeners continuing to preside over a cycle of entropy is something desirable. From what I know you yourself have suffered at their hands, surely you can agree that the influence of the Final Blades is not a positive one."
Yes Maximus is talking treason, or the galtan version of it, but honestly he doesn't care hugely. It would take a small battalion of common guards or a significant force of well trained gardeners to capture him and such a force could not be mustered quickly, or secretly, even in Litran.
Otvald glances around and lowers his voice. "You would do well to guard your words. This is not a friendly environment for such talk. Hypothetically, if I were opposed the Gray Gardeners, I would utter nothing but benign prosaicisms about them. You’ll find my public record contains nothing but benign prosaicisms."
The magistrate clears his throat. "Nevertheless, I do find myself in an uncomfortable situation. I’ve been invited to the Gardeners' masque, and my personal bodyguards are permitted to enter with me. Alas, my bodyguards were detained and executed by the Gray Gardeners recently, without so much as a lawful trial. Outside the privacy of this conversation, I won’t question their actions. But between us, I note that it’s suspiciously well-timed to ensure I attend this unprecedented event all alone. Well, I don’t intend to go alone. I intend to take you. That is, if you’ll agree to accompany me into the masque, and attend to my person should I be in need? I can make it worth your while. Say, 3,000 gp up front, and a promise of future favors?"
"I have already secured my own invitation." Maximus replies, his tone cooling sharply at the horrendously crude offer. "That being said Cheliax does not forget its friends. I will always be happy to lend assistance to my friends if they need it. So long as they repay that friendship with loyalty." The steel concealed beneath the last sentence is barely veiled. "I trust we will be friends, High Magistrate?"
"Yes, of course. Good friends," Otvald says quickly. "And friends look out for one another. Here, take this."
He offers you a small slate board about 6 inches square, then shows you a matching board. "These are slates of distant letters. Using these, you won't need to hover around me throughout the party. I only ask you keep an eye on the slate so that I can signal you if something is amiss."
He also provides you with a pouch full of the promised gold payment.
Maximus takes the slate and completely disregards the pouch of gold, turning to leave without any form of goodbye, to make his displeasure obvious.
Odious man, but potentially useful. He thinks as he emerges into the sunlight once more. The cartographer maybe, this map of the final blades could be most interesting...
Jordanna rejoins you as you depart the courthouse. "Didn't find anything at the elf's house," she mutters. "Either she's clean, or more likely, she's very good at keeping secrets."
Together, the two of you make your way to the cartographer. The People’s Maps is a storefront. Its sign depicts a map of Galt behind crossed ink quills. The shop’s wide windows are plastered with topographical, political, and survey maps, along with signs indicating “Property Lines Properly Defined” and “Lost Locations Found at Reasonable Prices.”
Inside, a halfling woman with red curly hair is at a sturdy table, poring over a map of Litran. She looks up through her spectracles as you enter and dismissively proclaims, “Apologies, but I’m closed for the day.”
"That is probably for the best." Maximus agrees, motioning for Jordanna to close the door and stand watch. "My name is Maximus Thrune." His lips curl slightly at the reaction. "Exactly. Now I have no wish to cause you problems madam, I am simply interested in one of your maps - the one that shows Red Jenny's latest tour of duty."
The halfling perks up. "Oh! Well, in that case, come closer! I'm Tristel, by the way."
When you draw near, Tristel points to a blocky location on the map of Litran. “I'm not sure where Red Jenny is right now, but have you been to Grange Market today? The Gray Gardeners are moving all the final blades around,” she says. “But there’s something strange about where they’re moving them. Like here in Litran. They just brought in Sharp-Tooth Hana from Tregan and set her up in Grange Market instead of Crownless Square, where executions are normally held. But I just heard they’ve had Carmine Nell moved from near the Minaret back to Tregan, which is further away. There’s some pattern here, but I can’t see it.”
"That is a more central location." Maximus says, staring at the map thoughtfully. "I see what you mean, there is certainly some sort of pattern here. But is it the blades specifically or just all of them generally? Auntie, what do you think?"
Jordanna comes over from her position by the door to look at the maps. "Mmm hmm. Yes, look. The final blades are all being positioned as close as possible to the heart of major population centers. When these movements complete, in the next couple of days, a significant portion of Galt’s population will all be within a mile of one of the final blades."
"Which is far too ominous." Maximus says calmly. "A couple of days which would co-incide almost perfectly with their ball... dear oh dear. Although I must say, if they weren't directly opposed to my goals I would be inclined to applaud the Gardeners. They don't lack for ruthlessness. Now Tristel, what do you know of the Final Blades? I need all the information you can give me."
"Well--" Tristel begins, but she is interrupted as a lumbering aberration suddenly barges into the shop! Hundreds of bloodshot eyes peek out from under the fleshy layers of the ogre-sized creature's leathery skin.
"I have come for your maps!" it declares. "And the Gardeners will have your head, traitor!"
Tristel whimpers and hides under the table as the monster stomps towards you!
The creature reaches out with its mind, attempting to steal some of your memories!
Maximus throws off the creature's efforts without ill effect and immediately lashes out to imprison the creature in a cage of force!
[ooc]Force Cage, DC38.[/dice]
The creature narrowly avoids being trapped in the cage!
Jordanna snarls as she casts aside her cloak, the effects of her bestial mutagen kicking in. Her jaws elongate and become full of razor-sharp teeth and her claws become jagged as she rushes up to the monster.
Her claws come just short of tearing at the monster's eyes, but she does land a normal hit!