Curtwyn breathes a sigh of relief and complies, unwilling to see what will happen if he pushes you.
Cimri puts away her sap and shrugs. "So...take these guys to the jail and lock them away until a new sheriff is declared?"
"That would seem like the prudent thing to do. That way we could come back once our task was completed and find out what other little juicy tidbits of information they may have. We could make sure those cells see some actual use, the way they should. I mean, who knows how long they've been neglected."
The longer Penance talks, the bigger his smile gets. Eventually his speech drifts off and it becomes clear he's off in his own little world.
Growling in irritation, Rurisa looks up at the sky to check the sun's position. "How long do we have until noon? I'm not missing my bonus on account of these worthless pukes. Ugh, I guess we drag them back to the jail then, Razelgro can find someone to guard them."
Delivering a sharp kick to Curtwyn's ribs she barks, "Get up you sorry bastard, grab one of your fellow conspirators. If you run, I'm going find out just how creative Penance and Kayal can be."
Kayal continues to stare blankly, oddly devoid of his slow and purposeful blinks, his nostrils still dressed with bloodied trails. A moment or two after Rurisa's query, one of his shades seems to limber up from the ground and pull at his trouser-leg, rousing the Fetchling from his daze.
Following Rurisa's kick to the deputy, Kayal moves to offer help in returning Curtwyn to his feet, the better to be done with this unpleasant detour from their schedule. Unlike Penance the priest remains remarkably tight-lipped but for a low, deeply enthusiastic voice that crawls out as he offers a shadow-encrusted hand.
"Won't you give us an excuse, sir?"
Curtwyn blanches and slowly moves over to pick up one of his companions and begins trudging back to the jail. He keeps quiet and shoots nervous glances back at you every so often, but does not swerve from the path.
Cimri gets ahead and locks all four in the two cells of the jail. Coming back she nods, "Job well done, time to go to Razelgo. If we hurry we can make it."
She gets you there before noon and brings you up to Razelgo. Gaurig gives you a cursory sniff and growl before lying back down in her nest, keeping her eye on you. Razelgo's silhouette appears as the lights flicker to life behind them. "I take it you were successful?"
Snapping off another crisp salute after removing her helm, Rurisa nods her head to indicate Kayal's battered state. "Sir, yes sir. One significant complication to report: when we delivered Rhonda Staelish's dismissal she didn't give us any trouble, but her damned fool deputies resigned on the spot. As we were leaving the jailhouse after a quick sweep, they attempted to jump us in the street. I'm not entirely certain what they were hoping to accomplish but they're now cooling their heels in the jail. I have employment documents for the four perpetrators here, and have no reason to suspect Rhona Staelish had anything to do with it but I believe she bears monitoring."
Gesturing to the sack of equipment she had set by the door when she came in, she continues, "During our search we discovered no keys to any of the weapons lockers, desks etc. Cimri popped the locks and we discovered a small haul of magic and weapons. Rather than risk theft from disgruntled ex-guards, we brought the most valuable items here."
Kayal stands off to the side as Rurisa speaks, the worst of the bruising proving rather difficult to discern against the dusk of his skin, or else gone entirely. He still hasn't bothered to clean off the blood though, and narrows back at the oddly earless panther in kind.
"Certainly the majority at least," he corrects Rurisa's final line, following their Hellrazor's report with a small addendum. He drags a finger over the drying smear, rubbing crimson between his finger and thumb. "I believe I owe Fex a curative."
Razelgo claps his hands and it sounds...hollow? Wooden maybe? Either way the praise in his voice is genuine, "Excellent work! That's three jobs you've successfully completed for me, and always on time. I have two rewards for you this time, first your payment has been increased by half, it resides in the parlor below as usual. Second, I'd like you to meet me at Scarlet Crown tomorrow at dawn to meet with Archbaron Darellus Fex. I'd like to introduce you as he has a proposal for you."
Kayal drags his attention to Razelgo's screen proper, brows firmly raised. After a moment of consideration the priest gives a small but resolute nod.
"As you will it." He wipes his hand on his still-stained robe, looking down at himself with a frown. "I suppose a bit of cleaning up is in order."
"One question, sir, what attire is appropriate? Should I buy something civilian-formal or is my kit fitting?"
After receiving her answer, Rurisa salutes again and heads downstairs once dismissed.
Razelgo shrugs behind his screen, "Wear your kit, I think it would be best that the Archbaron see you the way you have been presenting yourselves to the citizens of Longacre."
The following morning at dawn Cimri once again gathers everyone together to march off to Scarlet Crown, the manorial home of Archbaron Darellus Fex. Scarlet Crown lies southeast of Longacre on the outskirts of town. A pair of rampant iron stags watches over the gate on the road leading up to the manor. Red glass shimmers upon the stags’ horns, suggesting the source of the manor’s name. Beneath the stags, a pair of grim guards keeps watch.
They merely grunt out, "You're expected," and open the gate for you. Sharp gables and tall, narrow windows lend the archbaron’s manor an abbeylike quality, as though this were more a place for study and solemnity than leisure and laughter. A motif of rampant stags with antlers bloody from battle repeats among iron rooftop finials and on a crest above the stone entrance.
At the door a halfling butler greets you and leads you upstairs to the archbaron's office on the second floor. The archbaron’s office is appointed in midnight ebony and crimson satin. Towering bookshelves, glassy-eyed taxidermic creatures, and curtained alcoves line the walls. At the far end of the room, a large desk and throne-like chair sit beneath a coat of arms displaying battling, bloody-
horned stags. Behind the desk, a wide window overlooks the manor grounds.
A spare-looking man with slick salt-and-pepper hair greets you as you walk in. "So you’re the agents Razelago has recommended? I can’t say you’re what I expected—but that might be a boon in the days to come. I am Darellus Fex, Archbaron of Longacre. Razelago tells me you’re the ones who reported our local priestess’s... lack of patriotism. As such, I thought you might be well suited putting an end to the threats to Longacre and the rule of law—my rule. If you’re amenable, of course."
Having scrubbed himself to the point of pain, a well-groomed and stainless Kayal at first follows a step or two behind the others, glancing about the property with a arms leashed at his back, clearly enamored with Scarlet Crown's eponymous motif. Perhaps it's all a matter of familiarity, for the dower demeanour and scurrying urgency of the manor's staff reminds him all too much of a place he once called home, and he flinches a smile at the sight of tapered crossbows and guardsmen glowering from above.
Alas his stiffened posture is more than a formality, as it's quite clear the priest is trying (and largely failing) to keep his roving shades in check. They do at least offer a certain unnerving gravitas to his motions, and with a few hisses of Shadowtongue at least seem to settle into a singular shadow at his feet.
Kayal does not typically give away too much upon initially being received, but to Fex he offers his best impression of an honest greeting: forcing some of the more mortal features he maintains to give way to darker tones and yellowish pools at his eyes. "Razelago is too kind, my lord. I am Kayal; in both name and origin. While I would not dare speak for my comrades, that I might serve to aid you in these most distressing times would be an honor." That said, Kayal peers about the room; its distinct lack of screens managing to both amuse and disappoint at once. "Would that your hand were here to thank for his recommendations..."
Rurisa notes the presence of rooftop guards with approval, and otherwise takes careful note of the facilities features and defenses.
Rurisa, too, had spent much of her night polishing her armor, boots, & other gear. Her hair was scraped back into a severe ponytail and he helmet borne under he left arm. As the Archbaron introduced himself she immediately snaps off her best salute.
"You honor us, my lord. I am Rurisa Thelvarn of the Hellrazors company. I will serve gladly as your agent in whatever you require." Every word is heartfelt.
Fex nods and smiles, pleased with the replies. "Excellent indeed. I will give you a weekly stipend of 150 gold, as well as the right to whatever salvage and loot you might come across while in my service. Now, I don't have a specific plan, though news of this 'Angel Knight' is concerning. I want her revealed and dealt with, as well as whatever treacherous souls reside in Longacre. I don't need a new sheriff, my personal guards will see to it that the town is secure and will do the mundane policing.
"You however are granted emergency authority to do whatever must be done. Please try not to burn down the town in the process, it will take a long time to bring more citizens here. I'd like you to stay close to the town, the jail is open as a headquarters, and you may keep whatever sleeping arrangements you've made with Razelgo as well.
"There is one other matter to attend to. Queen Abrogail has decreed that in this time of national crisis, all agents of the crown must reaffirm their loyalty to their lord, House Thrune, and Cheliax by swearing the Hellfire Compact. If you’re to serve in the queen’s name, I must insist."
"I will give my oath gladly. There are two other matters, my lord--I'm currently contracted with the Hallrazors and was supposed to ship out sometime in the next week or two. I would be pleased to serve you for as long as you require, but there is some paperwork that will need to be filed with my superior officers. I cannot imagine they would refuse your request, however.
Also, may we have your permission to commandeer the equipment of the jail? Potions, weapons, confiscated magic, things of that nature."
Fex smiles, "A good head for law and order. Excellent. I will let your superiors know that you are staying for the time being. Anything you found in the jail will be considered salvage. Now then..." the archbaron pulls back the thick curtains of a nearby alcove, revealing a golden stand gripping a chunk of black crystal that smolders like a gigantic, hellish ember, filling the room with a crimson glow the color of blood. Fex explains that the stone is an ember drawn from the forges of Phlegethon—one of the layers of Hell—that burns with hellfire.
"Yes there is pain associated with it, but nothing lasting. When you are ready put your hand upon the stone and recite the following: 'I swear absolute allegiance to Archbaron Darellus Fex, Her Infernal Majestrix Queen Abrogail II of the Thrice-Damned House of Thrune, and the Empire of Cheliax.'"
Penance was quiet for most of the exchange. His mind was dreaming of the fat barkeep and burning down the tavern. Oh the sounds they would make. He stood behind the others smiling, a gleam in his eye as he quietly giggled to himself.
As the curtain was pulled back and the crimson glow filled the room, Penance was pulled out of his trance. "Ooohh, that is lovely."
Penance slowly approached the ember. He wanted to enjoy the moment as much as possible. He wanted it to last as long as he could make it. The promise of pain only enticed him more. Reaching out and almost caressing the stone, Penance began his oath.
"I swear...Absolute Allegiance...To Archbaron Darellus Fex..., her Infernal Majestrix...Queen Abrogail...II...Of the Thrice-Damned House of Thrune..., and the Empire of Cheliax." Even after finished speaking, his hand lingered longer than expected.
Eventually the pain became too excruciating for the little gnome, but he smiled nonetheless. "Such a wonderous artifact."
This is one of the tools used by Cheliax for ensuring contracts, especially among citizenry. The reason is because it leaves a lasting mark until healing magic is used, as well as being legally binding in the eyes of the Law.
As the others debate and consider the specifics of the hell-forged artifact, Kayal simply rolls up his sleeve, checking his fingers and palm for blemishes as he waits for Penance to be done with his oath. The promise of pain does not quite bring the same gleam to his expression that their gnomish companion wears, but Kayal gives a clear nod of approval upon Fex's explanation. A proper contract should have consequences. A price. If Hell and the Crown wanted to barter with the Midnight Lord's currency of choice, then surely, as a scion of the Kuthite Church, he was obligated to oblige.
Once Penance has freed the crystal from his grasp and moved an appropriate distance, Kayal offers up his own without so much as a thought. Amusingly, a few subtle shades crawl up and about his arm as he recites the binding script, eager as they are to press the dusky flesh deeper into the stone's heat.
"I swear absolute allegiance to Archbaron Darellus Fex, Her Infernal Majestrix Queen Abrogail II of the Thrice-Damned House of Thrune, and the Empire of Cheliax."
Once done Kayal forcibly retrieves his smoking hand from the stone and, with a short bow in gratitude, wordlessly backs away from it so as to leave the pedestal vacant for another.
Stepping up after Kayal, Rurisa grasps the orb without hesitation, slowly and clearly intoning the words, like a mantra or spell.
"I swear absolute allegiance to Archbaron Darellus Fex, Her Infernal Majestrix Queen Abrogail II of the Thrice-Damned House of Thrune, and the Empire of Cheliax."
Oath complete, she steps away to make space for Vokrin, glancing briefly at the mark burned into her palm before giving a satisfied nod.
Taking on his best authoritative voice, Vokrin too takes his place at the stone. "Ahem, I swear absolute allegiance to Archbaron Darellus Fex, Her Infernal Majestrix Queen Abrogail II of the Thrice-Damned House of Thrune, and the Empire of Cheliax." The burning causes him annoyance and he winces at it, shaking his hand a bit. Not one for discomfort was Vokrin.
Cimri's eyes shine with promise as she also puts her hand on the stone. "I swear absolute allegiance to Archbaron Darellus Fex, Her Infernal Majestrix Queen Abrogail II of the Thrice-Damned House of Thrune, and the Empire of Cheliax." She grits her teeth as her eyes water with the burn, but she sees the ritual through and can't stop smiling after it is over.
When everyone steps away from the stone a familiar voice drifts from behind the curtain on the opposite side of the room, "“I told you they’d be up to the vow,” Razelago says. “And eager to get to work, I suspect. Which is good, considering what I’ve just uncovered.”
Archbaron Fex impatiently crosses to the alcove, pulling back the curtain. “There’s no need for your dramatics any longer, Razelago,” he says.
Inside the alcove sit a stool and writing desk heaped with pages. Clinging to the desk, almost unbalancing it, is a bloated fly’s abdomen of monstrous proportions from which sprouts the chubby upper body of a human infant. A neck hidden by fatty folds swivels and a pair of black, compound eyes squint against the light. Insectile mouthparts flex enthusiastically between pudgy lips and Razelago’s voice issues forth: “As you say, My Lord.”
Hundreds of hours of drilling allows Rurisa to maintain her composure despite her definite surprise, a slight stiffening of her posture the only clue. After a pause, she clears her throat slightly.
"Uncovered, my lords?"
Still flexing his fingers, Kayal ultimately palms his hands at the small of his back, thumb rubbing at the burn as Razelago's form is revealed. There is the briefest moment of amusement and eager curiosity about him, but the priest manages to keep it largely in check.
"Glad to make your acquaintance proper, sir," he says to the cherubic-fly, head lowered as appropriate—though not quite as lowly as it was when offered to Fex himself.
Keen to get down to business, Kayal's spine straightens. "How might we assist?"
Razelago seems pleased his reveal does not start an outcry. “This Angel Knight doesn’t appear to be just some fiction concocted by an overzealous priestess. A talentless local minstrel named Riley Kels claims to have met her, and has even composed a series of ballads in her honor. While the amateur’s singing is crime enough, he performed these songs at The Last Stand Tavern last night—which incidentally broke the new curfew and sanctions against gathering.
“If it pleases Your Lordship, our friends here should arrest The Last Stand’s owner, Bolgart Caggan, for defying the new law. I suggest pillorying him in front of the jail as an example to others. Additionally, see what you can find out about the Angel Knight from Kels.”
"Oh it's as if the Dark Prince has read my mind and granted my desires. Please sir, allow us this honor...this pleasure. I will exact penalties on this heathen. We will make an example of him and draw out this minstrel to share in his justice."
Penance was almost giddy as he spoke. Even though his eyes were on Razelago, his attention was elsewhere. Already the little gnome was concocting all manner of device to ensure Bolgart's subjugation.
Mind already whirling with possible scenarios, Rurisa is silent for a long moment. Nodding slowly, she looks from Razelago to the Archbaron.
"A few questions, my lords. First, what condition do you want this Kels in after he's told us what he knows? Second, what are our rules of engagement for anyone who gives us trouble?"
Both Razelago and Fex smile widely though they maintain their professional demeanor. Razelago speaks first, "Use whatever means you want."
Fex cuts in, "But please try to avoid killing or maiming townsfolk out of hand, I do want a town to rule. Heavy handedness may turn townsfolk against me, and I, as well as my chosen agents, should represent the law of the land. Should you need to reach me do so through Razelago, who will continue to reside in the Ash House. And please wear the sashes provided as badges of your official authority. Any more questions?"
Rurisa offers a small smile. "None, my lords. Let's begin."
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"Excellent."
Fex summons another Halfling slave to escort you back outside.
Kayal offers a final nod as the party takes their leave. He does not say another word for the duration of their exit, but there is a definite fidget in his hands and a ripple to his shadows. An eagerness poorly contained.
"We have been given an opportunity. Lest it be squandered, all that remains is where we begin: with the minstrel, or Caggan." The Fetchling presses at his fingers, twisting individual joints till each emits a nauseating pop. Kayal's yellow stare falls upon his comrades, waiting. "Ladies? Sirs?"
"The minstrel. If he really has met this Angel Knight, we don't want him catching word that he's wanted and skipping town. We already know where to find Caggan."
"Caggan will not depart, you are correct, and minstrels move most frequently. I should like to... hear these tales." He backtracks a bit. "To know what we're perceived to be up against."
"When you go fishing you gotta dangle a nice fat worm and Caggan is a good fat worm. He will make excellent bait. We just have to pillory Caggan as Razelago has decreed. This minstrel won't be able to resist showing up and reciting a new ballad." Penance rubbed his hands together as he spoke, a smile on his face and a look as if he was watching some other scene unfold.
"Well Caggan works the Last Stand. Do we want to head over there now or wait until dusk or nightfall? With how quick Rurisa dropped Caggan last time I can't imagine he'll be much of a challenge."
Kayal nods along with each comment. Each one is as well reasoned as the next so far as the Fetchling is concerned. After a moment of thought he blinks between Rurisa and Cimri, an idea slowly taking hold.
"If preparations are to be made, I could find use for the daylight." As contradictory as that is, coming from a Nidalese shadow priest, he hastens to clarify: "Bards rarely leave few impressions. Let me coax what I can from the rabble. Even if I should not find this 'Kels', anything would be more than a name. And should we later arrive to find the Tavern and its patrons daring to repeat their earlier delinquency..." He pauses, adding through clenched teeth, "Then we deal with it."
Rurisa nods. "It's a plan, but I still think we should leave Caggan for now. He's not much of a flight risk, I suspect Kels is. Let's discuss this at the jailhouse, if we're being free rein with the supplies there I'd like to gear up. Might be easier for Kayal to get the patrons talking if we're not lurking in the background."
The walk back to the jail is rather nice as the weather is unusually warm for how late in the fall it is. The citizenry are another matter. Things are whispered quietly and fearfully as folk drop their heads at your passing. There are localized incidents of disrupt, but they quickly clear before you arrive as commoners scatter.
As you step back inside the jailhouse you hear noise from the back near the jailcells. Cimri snorts and starts laughing, "I forgot we left the deputies here! Hahahaha!"
Shrugging as they walked, Penance replied "so be it. All things come to those who wait, and I can be very patient. Caggan will pay the Penance before it is done."
Once they had arrived back at the jail, Penance smiled once more. Looking at Rurisa as he spoke "why don't you go with Kayal? Vokrin and I can question these criminals while you're gone. Perhaps we'll both learn something today."
Quirking an eyebrow at the gnome, Rurisa retrieves a pair of potions and they onyxes from the desk, securing them in her pouch before turning to Kayal.
"Lead on, bureaucrat. I'll back you up if you need it."
Having placed his crossbow and visible armaments neatly at the corner of what was Sheriff Staelish's desk, Kayal has been waiting at the door for his dismissal. His expression briefly mirrors Rurisa's at their inquisitor, but likewise the priest neglects to comment beyond a straightened spine and the clip of his booted heels coming together.
At Rurisa's word Kayal offers another of his nods and takes his leave, filed teeth shining in his jaw as he rolls up his sleeves to reveal bare arms and empty hands, the better to appear an 'appeaser' in this abhorrent situation. Given the earlier dissent scattered among the people, a little faux sympathy likely seems required, and he explains as much before settling into a demeanour that speaks of nauseatingly pleasant greetings, empathy, and no doubt a few other pointless motivations.
"If, after the first five minutes of this, you can restrain your inevitable want to incur violence on my person, I shall deftly restrain the urge to invite it. Deal?"
Rurisa leans up against the wall by Kayal's gear, cleaning under her nails with her dagger and keeping an ear out for trouble.
Cimri looks between the groups. "I guess I'll just kick it here then." She promptly sits in a chair and leans it backwards, kicking her feet up on a desk with a soft sigh.
Few of the citizens are willing to say much, but Kayal's soft words and demeanor pull some words from a very cowardly man who seems to wish to garner goodwill with you. He introduces himself as Ingoe Zoags, "I've heard of this bard. I don't know where exactly he goes, but he always ends up at the Last Stand Tavern, likes to hear himself talk. Always blabbing about some revolution or knight or something'."
Vokrin is of course interested in matters of allegiance. "Did you tell your former superior of your intentions? Did she attempt to dissuade you from this course of action?" He's not particularly intimidating, ugly though his face be. "The more you speak, the less I have to draw it out of you."