Sure! Although depending on what we learn from the papers Mel has purloined, conditions might change.
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Infiltrators: I didn't think this through well enough, Mel realizes. I can't risk having this stuff in my room.
I think I may just go ahead and sneak out, deliver the goods to Hal at the townhome (where he currently is) and then sneak back in. I'm having a hard time squaring a pre-made arrangement in my head when we didn't actually arrange it in advance.
Okay, so, timing: Hal is back at the townhome and has received the letter. But we don't have any in-game reason for Hal to show up at the Harcourt Manor in the dead of night to collect Mel's loot. We could just retcon it, but I think I'd rather not. GM, how heavily guarded is the Harcourt manor at night? Could I plausibly exit (stealthily) and then re-enter? Presumably with some suitable rolls.
Try clearing cookies and signing back in. That may help.
Hey, Hal! Haven't heard from you in a bit. I don't suppose you're available to collect some, err, findings from Harcourt's manor? I'd love to stay and hear what Harcourt has to say in the morning, but I can't risk it with a handy haversack full of incriminating evidence in my possession. We could maybe have arranged a drop-off -- like, Mel slips outside and hands it to Hal so he can spirit it away.
Infiltrators: Madame Crixton taps a finger to her lips in thought. Well, I'm not getting through this one with jeweler's tricks, she thinks. But I don't have a set of lockpicks like Dad used to have. Blast. I'll have to come back later.
And so, slightly annoyed at herself for not having foreseen this, she goes back to her room and sleeps the rest of the night away.
The next morning she gets up, spends the morning planning a geometry lesson based around a maritime theme -- calculating the height of a mast based on the length of its shadow, estimating distances between ships, and so on.
Thanks, Brolin, she thinks. After teaching she excuses herself, saying "I have a few errands to run, and will be back before dinner." Making her way to the market, she purchases a few necessities -- tooth powder, some socks, and a new handkerchief. Once she has procured these plausible items, she ducks into a short alley free of watching eyes, and changes her disguise to her burglar persona, Char. A few discreet questions are enough to locate a vendor willing to sell some lockpicks with no questions asked. Or rather, willing to sell with no questions answered, as Char simply glares at him in response to his attempts to wheedle information out of her.
Char leaves the seedier part of town. Once she's sure she's not been followed, she ducks into another alley and emerges at the other end as Melia Elman. She heads down to the docks and double checks on the Siren to see that all is well. Finally, she drops by the town house, lets herself in, closes the curtains, and drops her disguise. "Sweet Lady," Mel says. "It's exhausting being so many people!" She sits at the table and composes a letter to Hal: Spoiler:
Hal,
I have gotten a job at the Harcourt manor as a tutor for their son, Arthur. So far I have learned that Count Harcourt has been conducting avid, detailed research into maritime and international law, with a particular focus on Iustia's annexation of the Feld Islands some 90 years ago. At a guess, he is looking for some legal fig leaf to cover a forcible annexation of Helm, possibly on the grounds of failing to control piracy. I wonder if he or one of his cronies was responsible for financing Gertrude van Beem? Her piracy, unchecked, could easily have provided a casus belli for an annexation. I have not yet interacted with Count Harcourt, barring a very brief introduction in passing. The valet, Ernest Eberman, cautioned me that he has a vile temper. Lady Harcourt appears to spend most of her time engaged in social activities, and pays little attention to her son. As for the boy, he seems a good sort, if desperately in want of attention from his parents. I shall have to see if there's anything to be done to shield him from the consequences of his father's actions -- assuming any fall out. I intend to investigate further tonight. As for your own cover, the valet, Ernest Eberman, seems a decent sort with a poor master. I pity him. But at the same time, if he is fired for no cause, I wonder if his anger at his former master might make him willing to spill any secrets he knows. Mel Mel sighs as she writes that last sentence. If it gets us information we need, I am entirely willing for Eberman to be cast aside, she thinks, grimacing. I hate this. This whole thing. What it's done to me. I hate that I'm willing to see a faithful servant of long standing cast aside so that we can use him and his position. Ostara, all the paths have thorns! Help me pick one that leads to a good outcome, even if I am bloody at the end. And with that, she takes out the journal and writes out the letter again, this time for Count Aral to read. With all of this done, she packs up, leaves the house as Melia, changes to Madame Crixton behind a bush some blocks from the Harcourt Manor, and returns. That evening, after preparing a lesson for the next day, she waits until the house is quiet once more, and sneaks back to the study. After cautiously looking and listening for any sign of activity in the study or adjacent rooms, she takes out her new lockpicks and makes an attempt at the door.
Infiltrators: "I see. Hmm. Well, let's go take a look at it." Madame Crixton escorts him back to the house, where the two of them examine the snake.
She quickly identifies it, and uses it as an impromptu lesson on reptiles, including how to identify and avoid poisonous serpents, their uses in keeping the rat population under control, and how to handle one safely. When the lesson is over, she assigns Arthur to put the snake back where he got it. "And don't think you're getting away scot free," she adds. "Because of the snake, I want you to copy out the sentence 'The five boxing wizards jump quickly' ten times after dinner tonight. I shall check your work in the morning." She neglects to mention that this is designed to test his penmanship by making him write out every letter in the human alphabet repeatedly. After dismissing Arthur, she reports back to Lady Harcourt. "The boy seems intelligent," she says. "When he is interested in a topic, I believe he is fully capable of sustained study. The difficulty lies in getting him interested and keeping him that way." She does not share her theory that Arthur has been acting out to get attention from his parents.
Madame Crixton changes into a nightgown, retiring somewhat early after dinner. She takes a nap for several hours -- retaining her disguise the while. But some time past midnight, she wakens again and begins her investigation. She ghosts down the hall to the study door and studies it intently.
Before trying the door, she checks for magic.
Once she's satisfied that manipulating the door won't trigger some kind of alarm, she gently tests the knob to see if it's locked.
Infiltrators:
"It sounds as though you like books, Master Arthur," Madame Crixton remarks. "Or some of them, anyway." And that doesn't square up with what your mother told me, she thinks internally. Almost, I am sorry I will not be tutoring this child for long. It sounds to me as though what he really wants is affection -- or at least attention -- from too-distant parents. A steady long-term tutor could do much to ease that. "As for the snake, well, I've seen worse in my time." She thinks of the thirty-foot titan scorpion on the way to Kazad Gravr. "You seem a bright young man. Why did you decide to greet a new tutor that way?"
Infiltrators: Interesting, Mel thinks. That is not the answer of a child who innately dislikes books.
Madame Crixton purses her lips. "A credible effort. And sufficient, I think, though in future note that it is unwise to rely on appeals to authority alone. Come, we will clear it with your mother." Madame Crixton seeks out Lady Harcourt. Just outside of Master Harcourt's hearing she tells the Lady that she wishes to take young Master Harcourt to the park -- partly to get to know him, but also to assess is mathematical skills using examples drawn from the environment. "Do you approve this outing? Also, do you wish to send a guard along?" she asks.
You can use quotes, but only if they go around the entire spoiler title. [spoiler="Who framed Roger Rabbit"] Will work. [spoiler=Who framed Roger Rabbit] Will work. [spoiler=Who "framed Roger Rabbit"] Will not work.
Infiltrators:
Hmm, Madame Crixton thinks. His grammar is good. When he wants it to be, no doubt. "Good morning, Master Harcourt," she responds. "I am pleased to meet you as well." She walks over to the window and looks out into the street. "It is a lovely day outside. I might be willing to shift your studies outside today." She turns back to the boy. "That is, if you can persuade me that would be a good idea."
Infiltrators: "I understand," Madame Crixton says, inclining her head graciously. "My thanks." After unpacking her small selection of clothing and supplies, Madame Crixton marches down the hall to the nursery. She pauses before opening the door, checking it onver in case Young Master Harcourt decided to greet his new tutor with a bucket of sour milk over the door or similar.
Infiltrators: "Very well. Thank you for the brief tour. Is there anything else you think I should know at the outset?"
Infiltrators:
Madame Crixton walks intot the room and studies it with an appraising eye. She sets her bag on the bed and remarks "This will do nicely." "As for family, I have none, any longer," Madame Crixton says briefly. "Father was a moderately prosperous merchant in Elen. Mother ran his household. Both passed away a number of years ago now, and I have no siblings. I don't believe I caught your name, sir?"
Infiltrators:
Infiltrators: "Then we have an accord," Madame Crixton says. "I am prepared to start immediately. How many children do you have, and what is the general state of their education to date?"
Excellent. I am happy to have that 162 gp back.
Infiltrators: "9 crowns the week," Madame Crixton says briskly. "Plus room and board. Rent in Bannerhold is shocking compared to Elen."
"I would further propose an evaluation period. Let us try it for a week and see how things go. If everything seems to be going smoothly, then we can make it a long-term arrangement. If not, well, either one of us can then back out."
Okay, so, that means Mel's rent for the house is now 8 sp per day, not 8 gp per day. Yes? And so, since I paid 180 gp for a month's rent, I should go refund all but 18 gp of that.
Infiltrators:
"I am glad you asked. I believe disciplinary responsibilities should be negotiated with the parents. At my previous position, I was authorized to reprimand young Mistress Quinn or assign her additional studies as a penalty for minor infractions -- slouching, daydreaming when she should be working, and so on. For any more serious infractions -- such as the time she pranked a visiting cousin by releasing nearly fifty baby chickens in the guest room -- I was to refer the matter to her parents. In that instance, they chose to withhold her desserts for three weeks, make her apologize to the cousin, and thoroughly clean the entire suite herself without any assistance." "I would be equally comfortable taking a direct hand, referring everything to you, or anything in between." She pauses before delicately asking, "I take it your child -- or children? -- are, shall we say, high spirited?"
Infiltrators: Madame Crixton had, naturally, stood up on hearing the approach of the lady of the house. She makes a curtsy -- deeper than the one to the butler, and awaits permission before sitting once more.
"A pleasure to meet you, m'Lady. I have been a tutor for some time now. Most recently, I spent the last decade educating Rebecca Quinn, the only daughter of Lord and Lady Quinn, a small but proud family whose holdings are located some sixty miles due east of Elen, along the border with the Bishopric of Helm. She was eight when I became her tutor, and has now completed her course of education. Here is the letter of recommendation that My Lord Quinn wrote for me when I decided to relocate to Bannerhold." She passes over the folder that she has been holding. "As for my pedagogical approach, I believe firmly in the traditional Iustian curriculum, beginning with a solid foundation in grammar, logic and rhetoric, and proceeding from there to studies in arithmetic, geometry, music, and arcana. I can offer competent instruction in all of these areas. I must confess, however, that I am no magician, and so my lessons on arcana are theoretical rather than practical. Similarly, when it comes to music I aim to teach an appreciation of fine music more than its performance. For the young Mistress Quinn I added instruction in dancing, household management and other womanly arts." Noting Lady Harcourt's weariness, she adds "For a boy, I would certainly retain dancing, as it behooves a young gentleman to dance well. I might also give him at least an overview of household management, if only so that he might learn to appreciate the contribution of his mother and any future wife. But it might be best to seek a more specialized instructor for more manly accomplishments."
Infiltrators: Madame Crixton sets her bag neatly by a chair and sits, taking the time to examine her surroundings.
Infiltrators: Madame Crixton executes a short but correct curtsy. "Good morning. I am Madame Crixton, a tutor for the scions of nobility. My former post has come to its natural end, and so I am seeking new employment. Is your House, by any chance, in need of such a service?"
In the interests of accurate bookkeeping (a thing I prize highly), let it be noted that my wardrobe cost forty crowns, and the small pedagogical library a further 80. To this I have added 10 crowns to cover assorted practical sundries. No doubt I have an account with a respectable Iustian banker, which I monitor carefully, and perhaps some small investments in low-risk stocks. My previous position has reached its natural end, in that my pupil (a sweet but impractically fanciful girl) has concluded her education. Perhaps in due course I may educate her children, as well; but it will be a number of years yet before she will need my services. I am a tutor, not a nursemaid. In the meantime, idle hands make fretful minds. Finally, I dutifully accept the -2 penalty for disguising myself as middle-aged. After taking 10, my Disguise check is thus 29.
Infiltrators: The next morning, precisely at nine, Madame Eugenia Crixton strides up the path to the door of the Harcourt Manor, the heels of her shoes clicking on the pavement stones, dark skirts swinging in time with her determined stride. The black shawl wrapped about her shoulders contrasts with the starched white blouse. No makeup of any kind softens the early lines betokening the onset of middle age on a plain, sharp face defined by a nose that could comfortably be compared to a hatchet.
Her dark brows do not quite meet over a pair of fierce black eyes, and the severe bun of her hair shows a set of ears that have never known piercing. A leather bag swings from one hand, and the other holds a folder by her side. She sets her leather bag on the ground by the door and knocks firmly, without hesitation. |