Faerveren downs the content of her mug. "Another ale please."
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"I only cross-read it, I didn't bring it along."
"I don't know. Bring flowers? Write a letter? I left their home, because I had no idea what to do."
"Father Grimburrow is with her."
"Kind of." Faerveren replies, looking around that no one listens in. She leans over and whispers "He hanged himself." "I found a contract at his feet, that was ripped apart. About some large investment. With Marinelli."
Faerveren downs two mugs and takes along the third. She walks over to the table where the Variel's sit. "Lady Eleanor's husband died today." she tells.
"How much of that wine have you left?" Faerveren inquires. "I just want to re-hydrate after a long day. So keep the cheap stuff coming."
As all of this seems to be a rather private thing Faerveren decides not to intrude on the talk of Father Grimburrow and Lady Eleanor. Looking at Triss who is also in shock there isn't much for her to do here. She looks for the butler and tells him "I'll leave for today. If the lady asks, please let her know I'll be back tomorrow in the morning." Then she leaves for the day and visits The Pig's Whistle. There she goes straight for the bar. "Hi. Get me an ale or two."
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.
"At the Vanderbuilt Manor, come quickly." Faerveren replies turning around to lead the way.
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."
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?"
Faerveren looks at Lady Eleanor if that is something that should worry them. But she only asks with her facial expression. She stays silent.
"Something hit the floor and the jingle of a crystal chandelier? From that direction!" Faerveren insists.
"That sounds like something bad happened to some of your furniture. Shall we go and check?"
"No, Lady Eleanor, that motto for an event is new to me." she replies and wonders if in the history of man, there has been a case where someone was talked to death.
Faerveren does a curtsy too. "What decides who is accepted and who is a pariah? Bad manners?" she inquires.
As the chatterbox finally has to take a breath Faerveren uses the opportunity to guide the conversation away from hats. "This William, would this by chance be William Fioravanti? Because I saw him yesterday at the Golden Knight. He visited this duke that arrived around noon. And I'm sure it wasn't about extravagant hats. That duke looked handsome, but he isn't from here, is he?"
"My mother was hoping, that I could follow you around, learn from your example and maybe if you don't mind ask a questions where I don't understand why you are doing things in a certain way." "You almost wouldn't notice me being around."
Faerveren gets up from the chair when the lady walks down the stairs. As she is introduced she does a curtsy, looking at the ground. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Milady."
"I am Faerveren Deverin and I have a letter with a request for Lady Eleanor Vanderbuilt. If you'd be so kind to hand it to her? I'd wait for her answer." she tells the man and holds out the letter.
Faerveren decides to go for a stroll. She likes darkness better for that, but a good distraction works too. Or a disguise. First she'd need some intel on what that council is. Definitely it is something nobles are involved. So why not asking the nobles directly. Faerveren takes out her best dress and sits down to forge a recommendation letter from her mother, requesting to take her in for a schooling of proper etiquette and how to host social events. The letter is basically buttering up Lady Eleanore about her reputation for being the best far and wide for that. Fold, write 'To Lady Eleanore Vanderbuilt', wax, seal, done. The originator of the letter is finagled, but the rest is genuine. With that done, she washes herself with that soap smelling of flowers, brushes her hair, and beautifies herself to pass as noble. Her rapier can't come along, but a pair of daggers can be hidden in the dress. Prepared this way, she leaves the house and walks to the estate of the Vanderbuilts. She walks up to the door and uses the knocker.
"Okay." Faerveren replies and leaves. F!&&. It's not like I'm good at that. Faerveren decides to go home first to think it through.
"Yes, mostly. You just have no interesting jobs yet. No doors to open that are thoroughly locked. No secrets to snoop out. No one to charm into betraying their masters. You could send a paladin to do your work so far."
"No. Simply no." Faerveren replies. She seems to have taken roots in the couch.
"I'm not in uniform, improvise an excuse for me lying around." Faerveren replies.
"It might as well - with commoners. I could have dukes from backwater towns like these line up to ask for my hand." Faerveren boasts. "I mean guys who are not past their prime and whose castle to inherit isn't in ruins." "You're more interesting than those, but you're not that awe inspiring that I'd get off my lazy ass just because you enter the room."
Back at the room Dearil finds Faerveren freed from that annoying breastplate lounging on a couch. "So, are we done for the day? Or do you have other plans besides meeting your tailor."
"You mean wearing that heavy metal suits? I can't move in that." Faerveren objects.
Meanwhile at the castle ruins. "She is on her way here. But we can start with the tour." Faerveren triggers the staircase from the guard room and leads Dearil inside the basement. "Here to the left we have the vault. This is a most useless place, as we don't have the key, the lock is incredibly hard to operate and everything of value is gone. Well, some empty chests are left." "Here to the right is the armory." she presses the combination of the lock to open it. "There is some equipment from the old days. I don't know if that is all, but it is all we found out." "The dead duke is in that coffin, as you can see on the plaquette."
Persephone sits on the stairs already. "Took you long enough." Half the way to the castle her patience comes to an end. "I'll go ahead. See you at the ruins."
Faerveren looks out from the kitchen door to get who's there.
"He is." Faerveren replies with a smile.
"I won a job as mailman." Faerveren concludes, before moving on to the tavern. Once there she takes a seat besides Persephone. "How's the ale?"
"Hey!" Faerveren calls out and checks her pocket, while her other hand reaches for her rapier.
Once Faerveren has enough of poetry reading she leaves Mike for a stroll to The Whistle.
Faerveren visits Mike - without knocking, but by breaking and entering - and as it starts pouring, she stays with him for the night. This is a good test to see how much of a gentleman he is.
"I don't know any old people." Faerveren comments. "This is boring. I'll go check on Mike." "See you."
"You mean cooking here or cooking at the Whistle?" Faerveren jokes. Let's go there." And so they arrive around noon at The Pig's Whistle.
"So much for laying low." Faerveren comments. "What about those vials?"
Faerveren searches the basement some more in case there are more hidden vaults behind walls. "Would you shine me a light?"
Waked by the smell of roasted bread Faerveren joins Persephone in the kitchen. Taking some for herself she starts a conversation. "So, a visit to the ghosts basement it is? We could also pay that nice woman in the pawn shop a visit. She still hasn't told who the man in the middle is."
"Why not." Faerveren replies. She swallows the tonight. Visiting a haunted house at night isn't really appealing on second thought. "Tomorrow is Starday, we'll have time."
Faerveren rolls her eyes at Menan. "Good night. See you tomorrow." Once outside and out of earshot of Father Grimburrow she answers "Well, I'm not that good. When four people stare into the coffin, and decide not to disturb the dead I'm not taking any chances." "Especially with the head of the Rest in Peace Department around. But without him we can't lift the lid."
"So we're calling it a day?" Faerveren suggests.
"I guess there are options between that. Like make him a figurehead." Faerveren ponders.
"Forget about the nobles. Most of them are suck ups. They will pay lip service to whomever is in power. Or have you met other nobles in town, but those garden party types? If there were, we'd have a duke already." "As I see it you have some parties with motives, that are not the type, and some which are the type, but have no motive. So, as long as you don't cross the wrong people you should be fine." "On the other hand, if you cross Marinelli, which you are currently doing, and someone from the Abadar temple makes the connection, there might be a profitable arrangement with an unlucky outcome for you."
"Spill the beans! How did it go?" Faerveren demands. She is bursting with curiosity.
"Depending on your goal, this whole mess is easily solved. Find the heir, hand him the testament, congratulate him and be done with it. Because 'seneschall' yadda yadda, 'until my son is old enough'. How old is he? Fifty years was our guess, right?" "Maybe milk his unending thankfulness as long as it lasts to get some coin out of it." Faerveren suggests.
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