As the common room of the inn starts to return to normal, the group awaits the return of Vlad the Varisian, ranch-hand to Goodwill. After about 30 minutes he returns, the buckboard wagon now heavily laden with seed and feed.
Without a word, he motions with his head for you to follow, and the silent hand turns the wagon north, where a well-used road follows the river. Several small farms sprout along the river road, the houses neat and well kept and the crops growing high in the field.
Occasionally, a burnt out farm building or homestead reminds the travelers of their proximity to the edge of the wild. Just across the river, wild Varisia and all its creatures and inhabitants await those foolish enough to let their guard down.
After about an hour's ride, the caravan enters a wooden walled compound where a fine ranch house stands on a small hillock over looking pastures of what must be thousands of head of cattle. Vlad turns the wagon for the large barn, but points, again silently, to the broad porch of the house, where Goodwill sits on a rocking chair, waving genially.
"Glad you made it out here. Our friend should be safe enough from royal bountyhunters or Queen's Guard here. We close those gates, and we could hold off hordes of Belkzen. You have our thanks for delivering her to us unharmed. Dinner will be ready soon, in the meantime, relax and enjoy yourselves."
He shows you to a bunkhouse detached from the main house, where you have plenty of space and soft beds to sleep in.
"Thank you for the hospitality. A pleasure to meet you, Master Goodwill. Hopefully she will behaive herself a bit better for you than she did on the way here." Arianna says, shooting a glance toward Trinia.
Gyllan thanks Goodwill for his hospitality, saying, "It'll be a relief not to have to watch our backs all the time. I think I'll take a little stroll before dinner, I've got some kinks to work out after all these hours in the saddle."
He takes a walk around the ranch, keeping his eyes out for anything unusual, and particularly looking for any tracks that seem out of the ordinary.
Clomping up to the ranch compound with an ungainly bounce, Iozif is clearly not a horseman to any who watch. He nods in appreciation for the wooden walls as they pass through the gate. Dismounting and silently making his way inside, Iozif manages a small smile and a slight, if painful, bow to Goodwil. "We are much obliged for your assistance, Master Goodwill. I am rather unaccustomed to so much time ahorse and outside a city, so a rest in a bed will be very welcome."
Iozif joins his companions in the bunkhouse, deciding after some indecision to join Gyllan and Corso on their walk. "Quaint is not inaccurate, Corso. I do struggle to imagine you living your old age here. I should think you'd grow tremendously bored."
"Tae much time in the bloody city," Ulgrim mutters before waddling after the others on their walk. "So we're about done'n, nae?" Ulgrim asks the others, wondering about their next moves.
Gyllan walks among the working ranch where hands are putting up fences, tending to cattle, and all other manner of busywork. All along the line, the hands seem happy, well cared for, and loyal. The ranger, expert at reading people, sees nothing out of place here, despite his caution.
The rest of the group enjoys their moments of relaxation. Dinner is served in the big house, and is a fantastic treat of well-prepared (what else) beef and bread and potatoes grown on the ranch. The conversation is pleasant enough, and when it veers into politics, it is clear that Master Goodwill and his family have no love lost for the Queen of Korvosa, or the royal family in general. Hence, perhaps, is the essence of his willingness to harbor the fugitive Trinia.
After dinner, the menfolk go into the study for cigar and brandy, while the women retreat to the parlor and are entertained by the singing and piano playing Goodwill daughters.
The beds are soft and comfortable with barely any bugs in them, and you awaken more refreshed than you have been in some time. Soon the time is come for you to make your way back to the city, leaving the presumptive kingslayer here in the sticks.
Trinia steps to each of you in turn, eyes watering, and thanks you for helping her escape from Korvosa and from Queen Ileosa. She hugs each in turn and breaks into sobs as you mount up. Goodwill offers firm handshakes and passes you a sealed envelope to deliver to Orsini, should you see him again.
And with that, you are on the road once again...
Gyllan is relieved that his suspicions are unfounded, and that he's able to relax and enjoy the very pleasant, restful evening offered by the ranch. This place is way too quiet for me - but it's nice enough, for all that.
The following morning, Gyllan returns Trinia's hug with mixed feelings. He's glad enough to be rid of the troublesome lass, but he can't help but admire her joie-de-vivre in spite of all she's gone through. "You take care of yourself, Trinia. Perhaps our paths will cross again when this is all over."
Iozif awkwardly receives Trinia's hug, flushing red. He bows to her once free of her embrace, saying, "I hope you will take good care of yourself, Trinia. I hope that the false accusations against you in the city will soon be done away with. I will look forward to the day that you can return to Korvosa. Fare well, miss." Still slightly red, Iozif begins to mount before he pauses, then exclaims, "Ah, and I wish to trade something with you. I would like my potion back, in trade for this one. It works the same, but there are certain limitations on the others magical potency if it stays in your hands." Iozif happily trades the infusion for a potion of cure light wounds. He then mounts, waving as the party leaves the gates.
The group departs Harse headed back east towards Korvosa. All the heroes are a bit lost in their own reverie, some about the ultimate fate of Trinia Sabor, some about Queen Ileosa's troubled reign, and some about a new silk doublet that would just set his eyes off so dramatically.
The only sounds that pass for a long time are the stomping of the ponies hooves on the cobblestones and the swish of their tails. Traffic on the road is light and the day passes quickly enough. As the sun begins to set behind you, you come up the little inn where you tried unsuccessfully to spend the night before. You know there is another Desnan shrine a few more miles ahead on the road, so do you choose to stay back at the inn, or proceed ahead where you'll have some shelter, but have to camp out?
"Let's continue on tae the shelter. A little more fresh air before we return tae that stinking city we call home."
Iozif fights to suppress a smile at Corso's question. He opines, "Ulgrim's right here, Corso, it would ruin our little trip outside the city if the guard, and hence the Queen, took a special interest in us. There'll be some who remember our faces and some of those will doubtless be less than thrilled by our hasty fleeing. Let us sleep on the road. It will make your inevitable return to the city all the more sweet, eh?"
"Well said, Iozif," Gyllan replies. "I'm as much a city kid as Corso - just a different kind of city kid. I'd love to sleep in a bed under a roof tonight, but I don't think that roof's safe for us. Let's head for the shrine, sleep there, and get home safe, eh?"
You bed down for the night in another of Desna's shrines, keeping a fire and a close watch for any creatures or people that might mean you harm. Fortunately, the night passers without event and you are able to rest again, and gather your strength for the last leg of the trip back to Korvosa.
You set out early and soon the stone redoubts of the city are within view. You pass across the Jeggare River and are soon in the sprawling, bustling city once again. As you ride toward your lodging house an aggressive beggar stops in front of you. His palm outstretched, "Alms, sir and missus? Alms for a poor beggar, eh?" he coughs wretchedly and as he hacks and wheezes you can see splotchy red rash and blisters the size of grapes covering his face and arms. "Medicine, sirs? Coins for some medicine?"
Back at the Three Rings, you dine on a the usual good dinner fare and have the rest of the evening free to do what you'd like. Shop, study, rest or other, its up to you.
"What a bloody adventure! This ol' dwarf needs tae gets some proper sleep. I'll see yehs in the mornin'," Ulgrim informs his friends after eating. He grabs all his stuff and returns to his room, ordering a tub of hot water to wash with.
Gyllan tosses a couple of silvers to the beggar, shaking his head at the poor man's condition. As he looks around, however, he realizes there are others suffering just as much. "If I tried to help all the folk of Korvosa who are sick, it'd beggar me for sure," he comments to his companions. "You all seen the other ones with that red rash? Like blisters on their face and arms? I've seen several just riding through town."
As they reach the Three Rings, Gyllan agrees with Ulgrim. "A rest sounds like a fine plan, after a quick pint and a chance to catch up on the news." He stashes his things in his room, then returns to the taproom, nodding to a few acquaintances and asking after the events of the last few days.
Not taking particular notice of the illness that seems to be plaguing Korvosa until Gyllan mentions it, Arianna looks around in shock.
"What manner of plague is this? And so sudden...we haven't been gone all that long."
As the beggar steps closer, Iozif holds up a hand, saying, "I'm a doctor so I will take a look, but you will not come any closer unless I say it is acceptable. You should avoid touching anyone lest this disease is infectious." Iozif studies the man for a moment, looking over his pustules intensely and covering his mouth and nose with a spare handkerchief as he listens to the man's coughing.
Iozif's professional curiosity is piqued as he rides through Korvosa's streets and his keen eyes make note of the numerous sick. "This is odd, these all appear to be the same disease at a casual glance. We would do well to wash thoroughly lest it is infectious."
Gyllan shares what he's learned with his friends.
Iozif's quick study of the beggar reveals what appears to be the same symptoms that little Brienne Soldado dealt with earlier this week. The cough and the red splotchy rash across the face and neck. It does appear to be Blood Veil.
Several others in the city may also be infected.
As you sit at Three Rings, discussing the situation the doorman comes to your table. "A man to see you. Want me to send him in or send him packing?"
Iozif clicks his tongue in exasperation as his findings become clear, "You would seem to be right, Gyllan. This is the same disease that the poor girl had." Considering for a moment, Raphael fishes around in his pack for a scrap of paper. Finding a scribbled-on note, Raphael scratches out a rough map of the Avenue of Arms and marks his apartment. He holds the note for the man at arms length. "If you will arrive tomorrow in the morning here, I will see what I can do. I am limited in my treatment options, but if nothing else I might give you a better chance for recovery. Take this and buy something hearty to eat from a stall and then get a good night's rest." Iozif retrieves a few silver coins from his pouch and tosses them to the beggar. Kicking his heels into his horse (excessively), Iozif makes his ungainly way to the Three Rings.
"You had asked, Corso, about washing and its tie with disease. The basic principle is that the sharing of contact will result in spreading of disease. This has been observed, though the proper interpretation of the phenomena is still unknown." Iozif's voice begins to take on a lecturing tone that is entirely out of place in the popular tavern, "It has been conjectured that there are many foul humors that can throw the natural balance of one's body out of its sync. These humors can be traded from person to person, but are also susceptible to being cleaned from the body. Thus if one is thoroughly clean, with boiling hot water preferably, then ones own internal balance can be protected from outside influence. It seems a wise precaution, but the hypothesis is yet unproven."
As he is about to launch into further lecturing on his favorite topic, Iozif is interrupted by the arrival of the doorman. Hiding a frown (unsuccessfully), Iozif nods to the man and says, "By all means fetch him, but what was his name?"
The doorman shows in a young lad, barely thirteen likely. He wears the white and gold robes of Abadar however, and the symbol of the god of justice hangs from his neck. "Your honors," he bows deeply, apparently well trained in the art of manners. "I bear a message from acolyte Ishani Dhatri. He requests you attend him in the morning at the Bank of Abadar. I am to carry him your reply and then return tomorrow to show you the way." The lad bows deeply once again, and takes a step back waiting for your reply.
Iozif watches with curiosity as the young lad approaches. I hadn't expected such a young boy, and a holy one at that. He smiles at the honorific given to him, but doesn't say anything until the lad finishes speaking. He replies, "I for one look forward to speaking with Ishani. I suppose this is related to the outbreak of..." Iozif stops himself, glancing around, then motions the boy closer and leans closer to whisper, "Blood Veil." He leans back, continuing, "I've seen evidence of it in the streets, which has grave implications. I've no doubt that my companions will wish to speak with Banker Dhatri as well. Am I correct?" Iozif looks to his friends, curious who will be joining him.
"Of course we'll speak with him," Gyllan replies, his eyes elsewhere as he considers how many diseased people he saw just in their recent trip across town. "I'd like to find out what he knows, and whether we can do anything to help."
"Of course we are staying, Corso." Arianna says with a smile.
Her expression changes when commenting on meeting with Abadarian again, "I suppose listening can not hurt, although I imagine it will only be to ask us to do what his precious rules will not allow him to do without payment." she says, obviously still bitter from the previous dealings with Ishani.
The lad nods accepting the message and bows low once again. "Begging your pardon sirs, but..." he looks a little squeamish, but touches his holy symbol and plows ahead. "...there is a little manner of my payment. It is customary to tip a messenger usually, more based on the value of the information given. It says so in the Order of Numbers. My patron would want me to collect something from you worthies..." he bows low again, his hand held out flat.
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Iozif snorts in amusement at the young man's boldness and asks, "What did you say your name was again, son?" The doctor-in-training pauses to allow him to answer.
"Excellent! Now, surely the Master of the First Vault has something to say about trading value for value? In this case, you've brought us a request from someone to visit them, so it seems sensible that he is the one deriving value. We didn't seek out your message or the invitation, for example, but Ishani wishes us to visit him." Iozif thinks a moment then continues, smiling, "I will make you a deal, lad, you may either have a silver penny now or you can investigate the matter further and potentially ask Banker Dhatri to pay you for your hard work. If he doesn't pay you and you can clearly explain why, I will give you two silver pennies instead. Which deal strikes your fancy?"
The boy considers the proposition and bows low to the doctor. "I shall see you tomorrow, sir doctor. Bring your two pennies, eh?" and with that he is off in a flash out the door and running back to the Bank as fast as he can.
Iozif smiles, amused at Corso's antics, "I'm sure that you, of all the people in Korvosa, will be just fine Corso. That said you are right about it having been a long day. Week at that. I believe I shall retire to my apartment. Shall we meet at the temple in the morn?"
The Grand Vault of Abadar is a meticulously, well-kept structure of white marble and gleaming bronze friezes which stands in the North Point district. Towering over the surrounding buildings the Grand Vault of Abadar offers a vision of divine luxuriance amid a sea of mortal troubles. Radiant, as its grey-veined white marble reflects the midday sun, there's little question that this place is the house of a god.
Yet, for a deity of law, the steep stairs and ramps leading up to the temple's great bronze doors offers a strangely discordant scene. Dozens of citizens -- mostly of the working class, although the silks of a few merchants show through the crowd -- throng the entry, scarcely being held back by a group of gold-armored Abadarian clerics. All seem intent on gaining entry to the temple, but the clerics turn away nearly all comers. The clerics' reasoning becomes clear as one desperate believer is turned away, his pitiful countenance mottled with violent red sores.
The crowd is pressing in among the clerics who seem to be turning away anyone with outward signs of Blood Veil. The desperate masses still surge forward causing a crush on the temple stairs.
On a given day, Iozif doesn't generally wear one of his coats as he prefers that they be clean and ready when he must attend to his classes and work. He will wear it on occasion if he has reason to (not enough other clean clothes, chilly, etc). Let's call it a 20% chance he's wearing the outfit below. If he doesn't have it on, he'll have most of his alchemical supplies with him and clothing similar to the image below, but without the coat.
Iozif watches the madhouse outside the Bank of Abadar with a mixture of frustration and resignation. They turn away so many, but even if I wanted and was able I could not help so many. It will be a mess getting through. He waits, watching for his companions to arrive. After a short ten minutes, he spots them and joins them. "It seems that Dhatri chose an inopportune time for our little visit. Let's make our way through, shall we?" Iozif helps to push the groups way through to the front of the line, where he stops and yells at the guard above the din, "We are here to speak with Banker Dhatri! We have an appointment and he requested our presence. My name is Iozif Vasile."
Gyllan studies the chaotic scene on the temple steps, thinking to himself. It’s a wonder they’re turning so many away. I’d think they’d heal them on credit, and make ‘em sign a contract to pay later at crippling rates. But maybe Abadar doesn’t do credit.
He’s distracted enough by his thinking that he stumbles on the steps trying to get through the crowd, and makes no progress and Iozif forces his way through.
While Iozif is able to muscle his way to the front of the crowd, and ask for Dhatri, he has to turn back and help the others out. Fortunately, the good doctor did not wear his physician robes, as he sees anyone sporting a holy symbol or other outward sign of healing is beset by the mob.
Eventually, the group is able to force their way, with some pushing and shoving, to the forefront. There Iozif tells the clerics barricading the entrance that they are here to see Ishani Dhatri.
The clerics look each of you over for signs of infection, especially the red rash on the face and neck, and seeing none, they admit you entrance. The interior of the vault is as sumptuous as the exterior, and an acolyte directs you to sit in the airy entrance hall.
Passing priests and servants eye you suspiciously as you wait and every footfall echoes on the marble floor through a frightened silence, with the sounds of the swarming crowd a unsettling buzz in the background.
Ishani bustles over and shows you into a well-appointed meeting room. "Thank you for coming. I assume you already suspect my reasons for calling, having seen the crowd outside -- poor lot. You recognzize, do you not, the symptoms too. I had hoped the Soldado case was isolated, but apprently we have a bigger problem on our hands than I'd feared."
"I'm concerned for the city, but also for my brethren here. The morning after my visit to the Soldado home I came to the temple to hear that three of my brothers awoke with similar symptoms, although they had already been healed. I spoke to each, and aside from their usual duties in the temple, none have had any dealings with the sick. Later in the day, more of my brothers -- vaultkeepers, guards, and acolytes -- developed symptoms, and folk from throughout the city began arriving in search of healing. It's been more than a little bit frightening. They're calling the sickness "blood veil". An apt enough name, I suppose."
"This affliction has spread fast, yet I'm not yet sure how. Most of the patients we're treating have come from North Point and Old Korvosa. The disease seems to spread fastest through the lower classes. Although we here at the temple can heal some of the ill, I fear that the spread of the disease will soon outpace our resources. The only way to stem the growing infection is to involve all the city's resources. We need to organize. We need to call upon the faith of Sarenrae, Pharasma, and even Asmodeus to face this attack. Archbanker Tuttle and several of his assistants are out pursuing alliances with these other faiths, but even that won't be enough. We need to involve the Korvosan Guard, at the very least. And that's where you come in -- with the number of desperate souls growing, it's not particularly safe for a priest to walk the streets of Korvosa. I hear that you have a good relationship with Field Marshal Cressida Kroft -- perhaps you would be willing to escort me to Citadel Volshyenek to introduce me to her?"
Ishani opens a small coffer that rests on the table in front of him. "I talked my superiors into arranging a payment to you if you agree to take me to Field Marshal Kroft. It is not much, but the most I could get the bankers to part with."
He pushes the coffer to you, and you see it contains 10 trade bars valued at 100gp per bar (enough for 200gp per character)
"Ah'll help ye, mistress. Ah owe a lot to this Bank," Ulgrim says. "Tell me, does master Oishii still reside here?"