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"The seneschal vanished around the time the plague began in earnest, unfortunately." Zenobia taps a finger on the table. "We feared the worst, considering he is one of the few voices of reason left in government." "However, we've managed to find out where he disappeared to before you arrived." The judge sighs. "He's gone into hiding in Old Korvosa."
"A host of things, Ortik." Judge Zenderholm says, folding her hands on the table. "All of which stem from Ileosa, however she tries to deny it." "The evidence you uncovered regarding the plague was damning enough for any sane ruler. Either she knew who those 'Physicians' truly were, or she did not, and neither circumstance paints her in a good light." She clears her throat as Kroft takes her seat. "If she didn't know, she's a fool. If she did know, she's Korvosa's enemy."
The judge gives a very tired sigh. "To be honest, I do not know. I've been run ragged dealing with the sickness here, and I'm overdue for a rest if I'm to pray to Abadar in the morn. I'm surprised the lot of you are still awake, by the way--I thought you'd have called it a night by now."
Zenobia nods. "Hmm... this is the first I've heard of ratfolk in our city. Still, you've made a great deal of progress in resolving this crisis."
The judge's expression turns anxious as Nalun hands over the cashbox. "Light...? Oh, no." She fiddles with the cashbox and opens it, her anxious look turning grim. "Indeed. Someone else got to it first." She shows the party the contents of the cashbox--nothing but dust... and fur.
Nalun:
The cashbox feels lighter than you expected... By the time the party returns to the Temple of Abadar, it's officially the dead of night. The judge waits for them with her arms folded into her robes. "At last--have you retrieved the silvers?"
Zenobia's face doesn't change as Demitri speaks, but from the way her hands clench slightly and relax, she's not pleased to hear the news. "Good. The audacity of some people..." She sighs. "I suppose I'll have to preside over her trial once everything settles down." She starts before pausing. "...wait. Did you recover the proceeds from the sales?"
As the judge finishes her prayer, the boy's body glows a soft gold. The sores under his collar fade and his posture relaxes. Nodding, she stands and looks over at the doorway. "Ah." She walks over without saying another word and stops before the party. "Returned from South Shore already? What have you learned?"
Leaving the mostly empty Citadel behind, the party ventures once again into the dark streets of Korvosa. The sound of rhythmic footfalls can be heard throughout the city as they walk--the contingents of Grey Maidens are already making their rounds of the plagued streets. Some of them oversee one or two Queen's Physicians loading some unfortunate souls into carts... victims of the plague who either couldn't afford treatment or didn't endure long enough to receive it. So far, there aren't many bodies in the carts, but it's still yet another grim reminder of the bleak future ahead. The church of Abadar is dark and quiet in the wee hours of the night. The marble steps leading to its gilded doors are vacant of even a single guard. Stepping up to the doors of the church and walking inside, the party sees that most of the church's occupants are either asleep or still ministering to the sick. Judge Zenderholm is crouched over a small boy, his ruddy hair beginning to fall out and plague sores visible under his shirt collar. She appears to be intoning a prayer to the Master of the First Vault for the boy's health, and pays the party no mind.
Zenobia opens the pouch and dumps its contents into her palm--a pile of twinkling, clear white shards. She clenches her fist, taking care to not spill a single one onto the floor. She takes her holy symbol in her free hand and closes her eyes. "Lord Abadar, Bastion of Civilization & Master of the First and Only Vault, your servant asks a great boon of you in these trying times." "A dark power has clawed at this pious man's soul, and left deep wounds carved into it. I beseech you, grant me the power to heal them, and cast this darkness out of him." Her palm containing the shards takes on a sharp, golden glow. "The Scales have been balanced--the price demanded has been met. Demitri Severin, be blessed by the Judge of the Gods." She opens her palm, and a golden, glowing key rests within it. She takes it in hand and gently touches it to Demitri's heart, letting it rest for a moment before it enters his chest fully. A feeling of warmth and life itself enters him and spreads through him, his body glowing brighter with every beat of his heart. The undeath that plagued his soul is burned away, leaving behind a soul free of scars.
Zenobia arches an eyebrow in surprise as Demitri hands over the money. "Hmm. This will do nicely--follow me, please." She closes the safe and listens as it seals itself shut with a *click*. She turns and leads the party out of the massive vault, her robes swishing behind her and trailing a small cloud of dust in her wake. The stone door of the vault closes behind them with a loud and final-sounding *CRRRRRKH* that echoes throughout the basement.
Judge Zenderholm steps up to the wooden, cloth-covered altar and kneels behind it, retrieving a silver lockbox and holding her holy symbol before it. A soft golden glow envelops the box, and it opens with a *click*. "Demitri, step forward please." She takes a small pouch from the lockbox and holds it in the palm of her hand.
Zenobia purses her lips. "Well, the boots would be enough. That being said, anything worth at least 1,000 Sails will be enough compensation for the diamond dust needed for such restorative magics."
"I'd say you earned them, certainly." Zenobia nods.
Zenobia takes the vault key the party found and looks it over, sighing. "Ah. I suppose old Alfonso met a bad end... very well. Follow me." She turns on her heel and leads the party across the bank floor to a stairwell in the back.
"Mr. Giotorri didn't have any next of kin that remained in Korvosa--not entirely surprising, considering his history with my courtroom." She says, stopping in front of a great stone door. She takes her holy symbol off of her neck and slides it into a stone keyhole in the door before turning it. A *click* escapes the lock, followed by the *grinding* of stone against stone as the door swings open. The walls of the room beyond are lined with countless safes, each of them bearing a number and an engraving of Abadar's holy symbol on their steel doors. The marble floor of the room is kept spotlessly clean, and surprisingly enough, is free of engravings of anything related to Abadar. Instead, the entire floor of the room is engraved with the coat of arms of Cheliax. "261... 261... 261--here it is." Judge Zenderholm stops in front of a safe that looks much like the others surrounding it and inserts the key into its lock. After half a minute of working the key back & forth, trying to open the safe, it finally swings open. "I REALLY wish he took better care of this blasted key..." Inside the safe are the following things: --A pouch containing 68 gold pieces;
DC 18 Spellcraft (Boots): The boots are boots of striding & springing.
Zenobia takes the lockbox as she listens with a grim cast to her eyes. "The presence of vampire spawn in our city is troubling enough, but compounded with this wretched plague..." She shakes her head and looks over at Ortik. "What sort of vault are you referring to?" "One got me and drained a little from me. I could use a little help." Judge Zenderholm nods. "I thought as such--vampires and their ilk have a nasty habit of doing that. Our supplies of diamond dust are not excessive, but I believe I can help you." "Regrettably, despite your sterling service in Korvosa's name, I still need a donation to compensate for the diamond dust."
Lyla's/Nalun's Knowledge Roll:
After a bit of thought, you realize that you don't remember anything about Lavender's Luxurient Liniments--mainly because, as far as you know, the business only opened recently.
In the middle of a plague. Something's DEFINITELY fishy to you. The walk back to the Bank of Abadar is surprisingly uneventful, save for the constant reminder of the illness & suffering among the commoners of Korvosa. If anything, the plague appears to be spreading faster than you thought--it seems that you can't walk past an alley or street corner without seeing a group of huddled men & women, their faces & bodies wracked with bleeding, oozing sores and sharp coughs. The crowd in front of the Bank seems to have grown larger than it was last time you were here, but this time the guards notice you first. They immediately begin barking orders at the diseased masses, commanding them to step aside and let you pass. This time, they point their crossbows at the crowd to get their point across. It works--the crowd practically recoil from the party, save for a few stragglers that call out to you pitiably. Judge Zenderholm looks up from treating a man & his young daughter as you return. "You have returned. Have you returned successful?"
Zenobia nods. "It's somewhere to start, at least. We can't risk those coins being distributed further into the city--go to that toy shop and get the coins as soon as you can."
Zenobia folds her arms. "Hmm..." She wrinkles her nose and sighs. "...whatever the reason for Absalom's coinage being used, we need to take steps to recall every last one of them in the city. Some of the coins have already made their way to our vaults--I'll oversee their cleansing." "In the meantime, I need your assistance in tracking those silver pieces down. If you find any of those coffers, bring them to the Church as soon as you can. Do you have any idea where some of them have gone?" She asks before covering her mouth and stifling a cough. "Can you think of anyone who would want the people of Korvosa to suffer with civil unrest?" "I don't know." Zenobia shakes her head. "Although the more reactionary among the faith would start pointing fingers at the Shoanti..." She snorts. "No, they couldn't be the ones behind this. They disdain such underhanded methods--they'd sooner just walk into a crowded market square and start swinging weapons about."
The judge is silent for a moment before turning on her heel and beckoning for the party to follow her. "I will admit, I have ministered to many in my career as one of Abadar's faithful." Zenobia says, her tone at once exhausted and intrigued. "I have seen many plagues and illnesses afflicting smallfolk and nobles alike, but this is the first I've ever heard of money being used to spread disease." The group enters the main banking floor of the temple. Once a proud space of commerce and industry, this grand room of white marble, golden stained-glass windows and well-sculpted frescoes of Abadar's glory is now host to dozens upon dozens of cots, each of them bearing a sickly plague victim. The reek of blood and bodily fluids is even stronger here than it was outside. Several gold-clad priests hurry about, wearing scarves and thick leather gloves, bearing tinctures, ointments, poultices and remedies of all kinds. "Tell me, how did you learn of this?" She turns to you, a spark of hope in her weathered eyes.
The acolyte leads Demitri and the others up the great steps of the temple, leaving the diseased & distressed crowd behind. The pleas of the crowd below start up again not long after the group starts climbing the stairs. "You have no idea how relieved Senior Arbiter Zenderholm is going to be when she hears that you're here to help us." The acolyte says as he hurries up the stairs. He nearly trips over the hem of his robes as he moves. "Some of my brothers in faith have come down with the sickness already--none of us have any idea how it's spreading among the poor so quickly..." Standing at the top of the stairs, with her hands folded into her robes, is none other than Judge Zenderholm, looking like she's aged a couple of years since the party last saw her. From the dark circles under her eyes and the more pronounced streaks of white in her hair, it's clear that the judge hasn't slept well. "Good--you're here. Come with me--we have matters of grave importance to discuss."
Demitri opens the door, and sees Judge Zenderholm standing there with at least three other families. She's dressed in practical, yet immaculate black furs that are more suitable for a middle-class merchant than a noble. "Ah, there you are. I trust we are not too late?" Zenobia asks, her arms folded into her furs.
Zenobia nods. "Very well then. On your way." She dismisses you and turns to leave the chapel.
"It will take me a couple of days to contact the parents and make arrangements. Do you know where you plan to host this dinner?" The judge smooths out some wrinkles in the sleeves of her robes.
Judge Zenderholm shrugs. "I suppose I could ask them, if you wish--in fact, I'd wager some of them would be eager to meet the heroes who've been mostly responsible for cleaning up the city." She gives you a slight smile.
Zenobia shrugs. "I believe they'd have loved to see Nadia again, but as it stands, they're all in new homes. Was there anything else?"
Zenobia stands up from her seat behind the altar. "The children?" She shrugs and offers a small, grandmotherly smile. "They've been placed in new homes--I've seen to it." She looks between the three of you, with Nadia tentatively gripping onto Karri's hand as well as her father's. "Why, were you looking to adopt one of them?" She asks, arching an eyebrow. Her tone has no trace of sarcasm or teasing in it.
Judge Zenderholm folds her arms back into her robes as the three of you approach her. "I do, in fact. What business do you have here, Mr. Severin?"
The judge's eyes snap open, glowing blue. "For Elise: Elise, this is Nalun. Are you OK? If you need anything, send word when you can." Her voice echoes in the chapel, empowered by her god. There is a silence as she bows her head. When she raises her head again, her eyes are glowing once again. "Nalun, I miss you. I'm settled in just fine. Got myself a painting gig for now. Client says he's a Pathfinder. Stay safe. Love you." Her eyes stop glowing and she lets go of her holy symbol. "So, will that be all?"
Judge Zenderholm pockets the money and settles behind the altar, gripping her holy symbol. "The casting time will take 10 minutes--I hope you don't object to waiting." She says before bowing her head. Her holy symbol starts glowing as she begins to pray...
Zenderholm listens to your description of 'Elise' with an impassive look on her face. "Very well then. A casting of sending will cost you 360 Sails." She reveals a violet cloth pouch, closed with a gold-coloured thread, and opens it.
Senior Arbiter Zenderholm listens to your request. "While I am capable of sending a message, sir, I must ask: to whom am I sending this message?" She folds her arms in her robes and arches an eyebrow.
The acolyte bows. "Very well. Follow me, if you please." The man straightens himself up and leads you into a separate chapel from the bank floor. Several priests pass the two of you by, escorting various well-dressed people about. The chapel of Abadar is at once lavish and spartan in its furnishings--stained glass windows with images depicting the Master of the First Vault line the walls, letting sunlight shine down on an oaken altar draped in a golden cloth. Standing before the altar is a woman clad in white robes with a golden trim, with a gold half-cloak hanging off her shoulders. Her hair is dark, and has streaks of grey running through it. "Senior Arbiter? This man wishes to avail himself of Abadar's services." The acolyte says, bowing. The woman turns, looking upon you with hardened grey eyes. You notice she is wearing a necklace made of gold links, upon which rests a golden key. "...leave us, Acolyte. Return to your duties." She waves him off and he leaves. "So, what is it you wish of me, petitioner?"
Judge Zenderholm sets her teacup down. She purses her lips for a moment, as if contemplating what she just said. "Yes..." She looks up, an uncharacteristic look of surprise on her face. "Is Cressida still keeping that inside?" She folds her hands on the table, looking into her teacup. "I'm amazed she didn't crack until now." A guilty look appears in her eyes, causing her to shift uncomfortably in her seat. "I really should not have said anything."
Kroft looks down at the table, her right hand covering her left. She closes her eyes. "...fine." She stands up. "Fine. If he'll still go to trial, that's all I can ask." She gets up from her seat. "Excuse me." She says as she brushes past the party. Majenko watches her leave with a curious look in his eye. Once Kroft has left, Zenobia gets out some more teacups. "She'll be fine." She says as she reaches for the teapot. "Once she's had a chance to calm down, she'll see the merits in having Devargo fix the mess he made." She pours herself another cup of tea. "Even if she can't put their... sordid history behind them." "Tea, anyone?" She offers.
Kroft listens to Demitri & Ortik as they present their case, her face turning into a stony glare. She says nothing until Judge Zenderholm speaks up. "Oh, don't give them that look, Cressida." She takes the teapot in her hand and pours herself another cup. "What they say has merit--have you even taken a good look at Old Korvosa lately? Strung-out addicts on street corners, attacking people out of desperation for enough money for that next hit of shiver?" Kroft turns her glare on Zenobia. "I know what's going on in Old Korvosa. My men have--" "--dealt with violent crimes there every other day." The judge cuts the field marshal off. "I know, you've reminded me of that often. And how successful have they been in keeping crime down? What you've been doing isn't working anymore; it's time to try something new." "Devargo will still go to trial, as any criminal in this city will. No fanfare, no special considerations, nothing of the sort." She takes a sip from her cup. "He will be tried before the eyes of Abadar, and if he truly wishes to repent, then I'm inclined to give him a chance. Abadar believes in a stable, healthy society, and getting shiver addicts the help they need will go far in promoting that." Kroft is silent, her glare wavering...
Zenobia looks the unconscious man over before resting a hand on his head and uttering a prayer to Abadar. His pallor improves, but his breathing is still quite shallow. "I've halted the progression of the poison in him for now, but he needs proper attention." She turns to the remaining guardsmen and snaps her fingers. Griggs and two other guards take the poisoned man off Jakob & Ortik's hands. "Bring this man to the Bank of Abadar. I'll make sure he receives proper treatment there." She orders the guardsmen. With a nod of approval from Kroft, the three guards carry the poisoned man off into the night.
As Ortik & Jakob come back above decks with the unconscious man, Judge Zenderholm excuses herself and approaches the two men. "Admirable work. Now, what happened to him?" She asks in a clear, business-like tone. She looks the spider-bitten man over, one hand holding the golden key of Abadar around her neck.
"Zenobia. Charmed." Zenobia shakes Ortik's hand. "As for whatever job you have planned for yourselves..." Zenobia smirks. "...I wouldn't know what you're talking about. I'm simply a humble clergywoman of Abadar. And I trust Cressida's judgement, if one of her men has been assigned to keep an eye on you." She gives the party a wink. "Unless innocents come to harm because of it." Her smirk vanishes. "Then I just might have to get involved." The tone in her voice carries a clear message: 'Don't c**k it up.' With that, she gives the party a final bow before disappearing out the door and into streets of Korvosa.
Zenobia chuckles. "Oh, calm down. It's my day off, and I'm here about your orphan charges anyway. You caught me as I was about to leave to make arrangements for these young ones to be brought to my home." She leans over Lyla. "And, no offense intended, young lady, but lying to a priestess of Abadar is considered to be an incredibly foolish idea."
The woman, before leaving, turns. The streaks of grey in her hair, combined with the wrinkles on her face, make her look like someone's grandmother. Her warm smile turns to a stern glare as she fixes Lyla with storm-grey eyes. "Really, now?" Lyla: You recognize her as Judge Zenobia Zenderholm, known among Korvosa's dregs as 'the Hanging Judge'.
Zenobia nods again. "Thank you." She looks to the children around her. "Now, if you would excuse me, I should go get things ready for you." She turns and leaves Zellara's home. The children resume playing with more energy than before, spurred onward by hope of having a proper home.
The children visibly relax with Demitri's & Jakob's votes of confidence. They flock to Zenobia, chattering incessantly. Zenobia looks up at the assembled group. "I'll need some time to make the arrangements, but rest assured they'll be well cared for. In the meantime, might I trouble you to keep them safe for one more night?"
The children gain a look of understanding and collectively answer "Yes." Zenobia nods. "As it happens, young ones, my home may not be much to look at, but it is expansive, tidy and warm. It's also quite empty. I would be more than happy to take you in until I can find you proper homes. I am a priestess of Abadar; rest assured that you will find proper families under my care. Should I go back on this, then let the Master of the First Vault himself strip me of my rank and cast me down." The children are still uncertain about this, and look to Demitri, Jakob & Karri again.
Zenobia looks around the house at the playing children. Most of them have stopped and are now staring at her. "Hello, young ones. No need to be frightened, I'm here in my capacity as a priestess, not a judge." She folds her arms behind her back and starts pacing. "It has come to my attention that you all are in need of good homes and families. Now, these fine citizens--" She indicates the party members still in the house. "--have done an admirable job keeping you warm, fed and safe. But let me ask you this: do you not crave more expansive accommodations than this?" The kids appear to be confused by Zenobia's language, and look to Demitri, Jakob & Karri.
Zenobia's stern look changes almost immediately; her harsh glare softens into an almost motherly smile. "Charmed. How long have you been taking care of these children?"
Judge Zenderholm is quiet as Demitri & Jakob lead her back through the streets of Korvosa, from the Heights to Midland's Lancet Street. A cold breeze picks up, sending a few stray bits of parchment tumbling through the streets. Citizens hurry along, anxious to get to a pub or two for a mug of ale. As the three reach Zellara's home, Zenobia sniffs the air. "So, this is where the children are staying?" Through the front window, Karri can see Demitri & Jakob arriving with a stern-looking lady clad in a thick but elegant overcoat with white fur trim. The streaks of grey in her black hair, along with the wrinkles on her face, make her look like someone's grandmother.
Zenobia takes another long sip of her tea, draining her cup. "Very well, then. Give me a few minutes to get ready." She sets her teacup down and leaves the room. Some time passes before she returns clad in a black overcoat with a white fur collar & black leather boots. Unlike most other nobles, Zenobia appears to be a woman who values functionality over looks with regards to clothing. "Shall we be off?"
As Demitri & Jakob speak, Percival pours three hot cups of tea and quietly takes his leave. Zenobia takes a cup and sips from it as she listens. When they finish, she takes a long sip of tea from her cup. "Gentlemen, I am disappointed. Disappointed that you did not bring this to my attention sooner." She sets her teacup down and fixes the two men with her determined eyes. "Where are these orphans staying now?"
Zenobia steeples her fingers together. "And you wish for me to lend you my expertise." Percival comes back a couple of minutes later, bearing three teacups and a teapot, all decorated with the same shield as the one on Zenobia's robe.
Zenobia leads Demitri & Jakob into her house, her halfling servant not far behind. "Percival, would you kindly put some tea on for our guests?" She asks, leading the two men into a sitting room. The room contains a fireplace along the east wall, with three couches and a coffee table arranged in front of it. A bearskin rug lies before the hearth. Looking into the back of the room, one can see several bookshelves. "Of course, milady. Right away." Percival bows and leaves the room. Zenobia takes a seat on a couch. "Now, I trust you have good reason to be calling on me on my day off?" She asks, looking the two men in the eye.
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