Buttercup tilts her head as she considers the odd assortment of goodies.
"There are some odd items in here. What can you tell me about them. That signet ring, for example. My first inclination would be to sell it, but that might not be a good idea. And why a pair of bracers? I mean, they look nice and all, but why are they in a special box and not being worn or kept in a closet somewhere?"
Myron internally reels at the notion that Rexus is so willing to give up the last of his material wealth to secure aid investigating the Fair Fortune Livery. Is he desperate, or is he banking on the fact that what's beneath this old slaughterhouse is worth finding that much?
Still, being of the nobility means more than merely having wealth; it carries status and the assurance their priorities are worthwhile. In the end, that's what decides things for Myron. Were he destitute and House Aulamaxa ruined, he would rely on his family's noble allies to offer aid. How could he do no less?
He assures Rexus that he will help him. He accepts the money not because he wants it, but more because he has no wish to embarrass the man by refusing it. If nothing else, he can safekeep the items for him it until he sees what sort of situation this Victocora lord is in once they explore the livery.
After he consents to give his aid, he puts his finger in the air to signify that he has somethine else to say.
"I know of the Fair Fortune Livery, actually. One thing to be aware of, and perhaps this is merely rumor, but some believe the building to be haunted. Perhaps spirits from the structure's ancient past still linger, or something more recent has arrived, but we should approach the building aware and reasonably prepared."
Elarion set his palms together and inclined his head once—small, almost formal, but all the steadiness of someone who keeps oaths.
“Very good,” he said, voice quiet and sure. "If Lady Bellara stands, then I will stand with her. Rexus—your letter and this chest answer the questions asked; they are a beginning, not an end."
Rexus smiles wanly. "I am ready to depart for the livery, if you are. If you need a moment to recover from the riot, I understand. I did not expect the dottari to be turned on the citizenry so blatantly. And a hellhound of all things, really?"
He shows the contents of the box to Buttercup more closely. "You know as much as I little one. I did not know about these items or this coffer until Laria Longroad brought it me a few nights hence. Sell them, keep them, use them for good. It matters not to me. The signet ring has lost any meaning besides it worth in crowns given the fall of my House." He puts the coffer in her hands, if she accepts it.
Buttercup is quick to take the box, wondering at the sensibility of his giving it to one such as herself. Even as an unknown entity, she has street urchin written all over her. She takes out the bracers and examines them with interest, keeping only one eye but both ears on the others as the conversation either continues or dies.
Bellara watched Buttercup handle the coffer with the faintest of smirks, half amusement, half approval. The halfling’s quick hands didn’t bother her. In truth, it was comforting to know someone that quick was on their side.
Rising from her chair and smoothing the crimson of her cloak Bellara says "We’ve a letter, a lead, and a name from the past. The Silver Ravens. It seems Kintargo has decided we’re to be its next chapter."
She gave Rexus a sharp, appraising look. "Rest easy for a few moments longer, my lord. We’ll make for the livery soon, you have my word. For now, well, we've had a rough day and could use some time to see to their wounds and gather supplies before we rush off into the fray once more."
Her tone softens and she reaches a gentle hand out onto Rexus's shoulder. "You were right to seek us out. But from this point forward, do nothing alone. As we've seen this morning, Kintargo devours its dreamers."
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"Given how Thrune treated the crowd at the protest today, he may very well be declaring martial law in the city at this moment. And I wouldn't be surprised if he imposes a curfew at sundown. None of us should go to our homes tonight, especially Bellara, who will almost certainly have been identified." says Impasha.
She reaches into the coffer and pulls out 6 crowns. "I used the last of my healing ointments earlier today, I need to go and purchase a healer's kit. And I wouldn't mind getting cleaned up a bit. I recommend we meet up again somewhere neutral, perhaps the soup kitchen where I work, a couple hours before sundown, then head to the livery together. If what Myron has heard is true, then there's something worth investigating there, even if it turns out to not be what we are expecting."
Buttercup looks like she is about to cry when Impasha snags SIX of the gold from the coffer, but says "A healer's kit seems prudent".
Celas waited on Elarion decision but when Bellara made her declaration for accepting the nobleman's offer he knew the loyalty would have the old elf follow. He nods at Elarion's eventual statement. He responds after Impasha pointed out the Bellara is or soon would be as wanted as anyone.
Celas chimes in with, "We're all wanted now by description if not by name. And Impasha has it, right milady, your home is not a haven for anyone now. If Thrune is smart they will seize your lands, if clever they will lay an ambush; it seems as or more likely they will be, as they have been, brutal, in which case expect your home in flames sooner than later. I could try to scout it first, you may have a bit of time to get portable items, useful or meaningful to you. But a home it no longer is."
Having given his gloomy pronouncement, he nods to Rexus, saying, "I accept your offer, as much as I have no better in hand as any other reason. As for devotion, I'm not one for losing causes, but for now I have reason enough to hate House Thrune so I will do all I reasonably can to bring pain to them. I do not see a path to their fall though, but I'm far from the courts of those skilled in noble intrigues."
He takes his share of any funds, turning down coin is not smart.
Buttercup will collect her belongings from her nest, hoping her new allies will provide a more secure and comfortable location to hide. Before and after that her paranoia demands that she hides out and sees if anyone visits her old home leaving in enough time to join up again.
Before she leaves she offers her spot to a recently orphaned halfling who had been eying the place for a bit, though, to be honest, there were a lot of holes in his sob story. But who was she to criticize? And a good sob story is a good sob story whether true or not.
Looking to Bellara, "I doubt after this morning the Manor will be safe to return to, perhaps we can beat the Dottari and warn the servants to escape though. It may be worth a try before we rendezvous at the Fair Fortune Livery,"
Bellara listened as Impasha and Celas spoke, her expression steady even though the muscles in her jaw tighten with every mention of her home. When Elarion added his quiet counsel, she exhales softly through her nose and lets her head hang softly, more resignation than defeat.
"Then it seems Kintargo has taken everything it means to be a Valcaro in one day." she says finally.
Defeat momentarilly washes over her. Already standing, she quickly turns her back to the table and lets her gaze drift out the window at the noise in the street beyond.
"A fine inheritance." she mutters to herself.
She takes a few controlled breaths, and after a moment she recomposes herself, lifting her head and straightening her crimson cloak, turning to face the table once more. "Celas, Elarion, you’re right. The manor won’t stand long once the Dottari report my face. But I’ll not leave my people ignorant to the flames. Let us quickly and quietly go and see them warned. My staff will scatter to the country estates, the temple district, and safer alleys than mine. They take what can be carried."
She glances toward Rexus, voice dropping to something that almost resembled warmth. "Keep your head down until we return. The Silver Ravens can wait until dusk to spread their wings."
With that, she pulls her hood up and turns for the door.
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"Then it seems Kintargo has taken everything it means to be a Valcaro in one day." she says finally.
Defeat momentarilly washes over her. Already standing, she quickly turns her back to the table and lets her gaze drift out the window at the noise in the street beyond.
"A fine inheritance." she mutters to herself.
Perhaps inappropriately, but in earnest, Impasha lays a comforting hand on the hand of Bellara.
"And what would the name of Valcaro mean if you acquiesced to this wicked regime and did nothing? Do not reproach an act of conscience and duty, even if it costs you the trappings of wealth and station. All that truly matters in this life is the love and respect we build for ourselves, and this House of Thrune would only repay your loyalty with contempt and bondage. Think on what the name of Valcaro will mean when we drive this wicked man and his family from this city in defeat!" The bright grey eyes of the champion burn with her rhetoric as she gazes into the face of the noblewoman.
"As to your servants, if any have no place to go and need help, I have been living with the faithful of Milani. I could speak to them if any of your people need anything. We all get through this only if we allow ourselves to work together with other good-hearted people. There are more of us than them, I'm sure of it."
Bellara lets Impasha’s hand rest a moment in hers, surprise flickering across her face before she tightens her fingers in gratitude.
"You speak like a true daughter of the Inheritor." she says softly, voice steadier for the comfort. "Enough to make a stubborn Valcaro blush."
She straightens, voice sliding back to her measured edge. "Do speak to your folk of Milani, Impasha. Tell them to expect any servants sent from my household. Discreetly, by back lanes and market routes. If they can take even a handful until we have a safer roof, tell them I will be forever in their debt. And let Celas arrange any false papers or routes. He knows the streets better than I do these days."
Bellara folds her cloak about her shoulders. "As for the name. I will not hand Valcaro over to cowards and devils. If we see Thrune fall, it will be because people remembered what that name means. Stubbornness, a blade for the weak, and a voice that will not whisper when shouting is required."
Bellara’s head turns sharply at Impasha’s question. Too quickly, too sharply, and for the briefest flicker of a heartbeat her eyes dart toward Celas. Then she smiles. It’s a small, graceful thing, just a hint of wry amusement.
"Ah-no." she says smoothly, tone level and composed once more. "You mistake me. Elarion here is my steward and household warden, but Handy Hank-" she gives the name its proper emphasis, her gaze finding the rogue’s with a glint of apology hidden behind irony, "-was a friend of my brother Lucero. He’s done work for House Valcaro before, the sort one doesn’t mention in guild records or dinner conversation. When we needed someone who knew Kintargo’s less... refined avenues, Lucero trusted him, so I do."
She lifts her chin slightly, directing the conversation away from the slip. "And as luck or fate would have it, that trust was not misplaced. The man’s worth twice his weight in gold when it comes to moving quietly or vanishing altogether. We’ll need that before long, I am sure."
Bellara brushes soot from her sleeve, letting her voice soften just a touch. "Forgive the confusion, Impasha. It’s been a long day for us all, and my tongue runs ahead of my good sense when I’m tired."
Celas nods at Lady Bellara, saying, "You're too kind m'lady, my father did much more, but yes, I do many things, mostly for silver but neither the wise steward or the bold lady or her even bolder brother ever made me, or any servant, feel like furniture, so we often did quiet things."
Turning gloomy, "And we paid the price. My father beaten to death by the thugs the devil house paid. Lucero dragged off in chains. I claim no honor here; my motive is to see as many of the devil huggers go the Hell they love so much. Anything else is extra. Of course I like to keep my own skin safe as possible. I'm not a hero." Celas face is grim as he thinks on the lives he took and what he future he sees.
Breaking his mood, he says, "I'll scout the route to Gullsrest, see if the coast is clear, it's not so far. Buttercup, just trail behind me a ways and watch the path, if I'm caught warn the others and hide." Looking around he laughs, "Gone already, I suspect she'll join up later."
"Let us be clear," he said in that quiet, level tone that required no raising to command the room. "House Valcaro does not own souls. It earns loyalties. Celas is no servant—he is an ally. And allies, Lady Impasha, are not measured by birth nor etiquette, but by the weight of what they risk at one’s side."
He gave Celas a meaningful look, “Your father paid in blood for standing against tyrants. That is a currency far dearer than gold. If vengeance keeps your hand steady against Thrune, so be it. But understand—what we build here will demand more than hate. Hate burns hot and dies fast. We’ll need something that endures. Resolve. Discipline. Purpose.”
Then, without changing expression, he turned ever so slightly toward Bellara and adjusted an imaginary crease on her cloak. Then to Impasha, "And if the faithful of Milani are willing to help shelter innocents, we will accept it with gratitude."
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Impasha gradually works out that Hank and Celas are the same person. And more significantly that he seemed to be a regular operative of House Valcaro. She finds the information comforting actually—the ‘Handyman’ might turn out to be more skilled than she’d guessed at first. ”Having an alias in a city of spies and informants seems prudent enough.” she says to Celas. ”I’ll be sure to call you Hank in public, and hopefully you’ll allow me to use your true name in private.”
She listens approvingly to Elarion as he evangelizes rebellion, nodding along. At his last statement to her, she nods more emphatically.
”I will speak to the network this afternoon. Some of the Milanians were at the protest today, so they will understand the situation well enough. Have your people go to the bookstore on Pitcher street and tell the clerk that ‘Impasha sent me’. They will be questioned of course, the Faithful have to be careful, but it should suffice as an introduction. If they can have some token of your House, it will help. Once some of them are accepted, it should ease the way for others, since they can be vouched for.”
She turns to Rexus. ”The offer stands for your people too. I’m sure the Milanians have heard about the fire at your estate already, and will be glad to help any who need it.”
Buttercup, just trail behind me a ways and watch the path, if I'm caught warn the others and hide."[/b] Looking around he laughs, "Gone already, I suspect she'll join up later."
Buttercup gives a quiet thumbs up, with all the speechification makin' her dizzy. Lots of adjectverbs in there, she's quite sure, though which words were such she couldn't tell. She just knew them types of words were big and made things flowery. Frankly, she wished they'd just stick to words like 'fast', 'big' and 'bad'. Why use them long words when the short ones just made the listenin' easier!
Myron drains the last of his foamy coffee with a slurp, and then wipes the foam off of his mustache with a napkin.
"I think I'll just spend time with you until we go to the livery," he says to Rexus. "I think Aulamaxa estate has been untouched so far, but if I go there now, it might draw unwanted attention.
"Another coffee, anyone?"
Buttercup slinks home to gather her things, and Impasha grabs a healing kit and tends to her own wounds, binding things so she feels as good as new. Bellara and Elarion are able to get to the estate and rally the servants to depart without incident. They direct the retainers to follow Impasha's direction, and then leave the manor themselves. Just as they move away, they hear a troop of dottari moving noisily through the district, whether they are headed for House Valcaro or not is undetermined, but the pair don't wait around to find out.
Eventually the group regathers outside the Fair Fortune Livery, as the sun starts to set. Rexus and Myron joining up with the others. With a nod Rexus says, "Shall we then?"
Eying the door nervously, Buttercup hesitantly suggests "Maybe I should check things out first? Unless you are pretty sure it's safe."
" Unless you are pretty sure it's safe."
"I am pretty sure that it is not!"
Shaking his head Celas says, "From now on, nothing is safe, so just get use to that. I'll join you Buttercup, we'll check the door for any traps and see if it's locked, after that I'll enter quietly."
Celas checks the door and area for traps and if needed unlock the door. He looks inside and if not obviously dangerous, he moves in stealthy and scans for trouble. If no light, he'll use his other senses to check things out.
Buttercup joins him in the casing of the joint, letting him take point but calling out advise if need be (aiding).
The aged stable leans slightly to one side, and its roof seems to be precariously settled atop the warped wooden walls. There do not seem to be any obvious signs of habitation here but the darkness makes it hard to see details. A set of sliding barn doors sit on the western wall, but they appear to be shut fast and have a large chain holding them fast. As Buttercup and Celas circle the building, they also see a caged area on the east side, that is otherwise open to the air. Old hay bales and other detritus are stacked here. Another back door is seen inside this caged area as well. The bars of the cage are wide enough that a small creature, like Buttercup, could likely squeeze between them. The exterior casing reveals no other signs of interest.
The two scouts see pretty clearly that the chain on the front door is very loosely set, and with some effort the doors could be slid open, perhaps enough to squeeze inside?
Is there no light at all? Dim light Buttercup could live with, but complete darkness makes scouting problematic for her. It's not like you should sneak into a place with a lit torch!
There is fading dim light since the group waited till sundown to approach the Livery. It will be full dark after the first scouting is complete.
Buttercup slips in the east side, creeping along (using stealth) as her eyes adjust.
"How do we know if she needs us to come save her?"
As Buttercup slips in, surprising Celas with her adventurousness. Replying to Myron, Celas says, "I'll let you know. Or you can follow the screams." With a thin smile and a grim half-joking tone he says the last as he proceeds.
he follows quietly, keeping low and using his other senses even more than sight. With some experience in how Buttercup moves in dark areas, and with his own, Celas flows into the stable. With the gaps in the walls and likely from the poor condition of the ceiling helping a little he uses that by noting where his vision is blocked to see where larger things are. He uses his hands to feel ahead and try to figure what might be there. Of course, sound will be as important as anything else.
If Celas finds anything of note, he'll use quiet sounds like those common in the city to signal Buttercup.
Buttercup is able to, with only mild difficulty, slip in between the bars on the east side of the stables. Inside are bales of hay, a bit of worn out leather harness and tack, and other left-over detritus from this place's heyday as a stable. There is a door in the west wall that appears to be unchained and unlocked. However, when you try to open the door, it appears to be tenaciously stuck in place, the frame having settled on the door as the structure leaned over time.
Try as he might, Celas cannot squeeze through the bars on the exterior of the east side, and can only watch Buttercup, or perhaps move to the door at the west side, which appeared to have a bigger opening with slack in the chain.
Buttercup turns back at being foiled by the jammed door. She takes another quick look around and squeezes back out the bars.
"Just an empty room with some horse stuff. The door into the next room is stuck."We could try knocking, or we can force our way in."
Celas fails at following Buttercup due to the tight spacing of the bars, so he moves towards the west door as Impasha gives a mighty tug.
Briefly stopping to say, "Impasha let me check for traps, so I'll go first."
Looking first to see if the roof caves in, if it seems somewhat safe, Celas will stride in because anyone not deaf would have heard that pull.
He checks carefully for traps, or anything hidden, or out of the ordinary for an abandoned stable. If the remaining light is insufficient, he will strike up a torch. He tells the others of anything he sees.
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”If anyone has been coming in and out of here, I don’t think it was through that door.” observes Impasha. ”That door has been stuck shut a long time.”
She takes a deep breath, trying to gauge how ‘horsey’ it smells, and thus how long it may have been abandoned.
”If someone is using this as a hideout, there may be a hidden door letting people get in and out. And a livery stable wouldn’t normally have a lower level, but perhaps we should look for a trap door anyway. Someone may have tunneled to this spot from elsewhere.”
As she speaks, Impasha gazes into the dark interior with an odd intensity, as if distracted by some association with such a place.
Elarion waits patiently, sneaking is admittedly out of his forte. Though patience he has in plenty of measure, following Celas inside, "You need not use a torch, magic can suffice in times like this, less evidence or risk of burning this ramshackle place down,"
Elarion spins some magic, his holy symbol glowing before a small orb of light comes forth, he gently attaches it to Celas, where it floats next to the rogue.
Stopping at Elarion's words, Celas waits as the elf casts his spell. "Thanks, Master Steward, that will help to see.", Celas says. After a heartbeat, Celas then follows, "Maybe formality is not needed anymore, for now at least it seems you have no lands to be steward of, hope we can change that. Now that there are no household servants to scandalized, what should I call you, not that you were as prickly as most?"
Quietly, Buttercup follows, letting Celas take the lead. Bunch of chatterboxes Buttercup thinks to herself, Hopefully they quiet down once we start prowling about inside.
Though, she considers, considering some of their 'performances' during the ill fated rally, she is not surprised. As for Buttercup, she keeps a little distance for the main noisemakers and sticks to the shadows. Quietly.
She muses, quietly, on the perks of being in the nobility. She often had fantasies about being landed herself, though those fantasies usually involved lots of food and leisure, which was probably not a fair assessment. Life was tough, often brutal, and she highly doubted owning a piece of land changed that. Still, fantasizing is fun.
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Bellara waits until Elarion’s orb drifts beside Celas before saying "Good thinking. A quiet light for a quiet hand. That’s how it should be."
She steps into the threshold and adds "The letter spoke of chambers below this building. Be ready for hidden doors, loose floorboards, or false walls. If the Silver Ravens hid their secrets here, they would not make them easy to find."
Impasha steps forward, and tears at the door on the west wall. Her powerful tug does not break the chains, but it does tear the wooden door asunder, widening the opening such that any medium creature can enter, by ducking under the chain.
Unfortunately, the sounds of the rending door is quite loud and that plus the light from Elarion disturbs the current denizens of the decrepit livery. A pack of feral dogs, not unlike those outlined in Thrune's proclamations rises to their feet, barking loudly and advancing to attack the intruders in their lair. Two of the gods are large mastiffs as tall as Buttercup at the shoulder, but the others are normal dog sized, but all are fiercely defending their makeshift home.