Frowning, Marius steps over to down at the paper Faenia is translating, though he has no ability to read it himself. "...soul reconstruction? So that whisperer was a failed attempt at, what, remaking the prince since the priests couldn't call him back?" Marius blinks several times as he attempts to wrap his head around that.
"We need more information, but I don't like the implications of this. We should keep this a very close secret until we've had a chance to speak with the Crown Princess."
Marius cannot see any traps or anything else suspicious about the secret passage. The plain door leads into a walk-in closet featuring dozens of suits and dresses a few centuries out of fashion. If Rose was here, she would have a treasure trove of vintage high fashion to study.
Lotti begins to carefully go over both rooms with her magic-detecting spell, finding two auras in the walk-in closet. She taps the embroidered leather belt. "This might be good for one of you who are on the front line. It has a vitality enhancing spell on it." The boots, their leather a little cracked, she puzzles over for a while, before placing them back with a wry chuckle as she shakes her head. "Nobles, tsk. Those boots read as magical, but they do nothing more than keep your feet dry, like any other mundane footwear. They are simply enchanted to seem more than they really are, no doubt like many of those who wore that type of thing."
Faenia laughs, ”I suppose they are technically magic boots. Anyway, it’s good that we found what we found. Let’s get going, we need to find that teleportation circle.” She grabs one of her wands and boops herself with it before putting it back.
The room behind the secret passage is dominated by a large circle on the floor, etched in silver and decorated with intricate loops and swirls. Jars of coloured powders are organized neatly along the northern walls, and an apothecary's cabinet contains labeled herbs, roots, specimens and other ingredients for arcane works.
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Velvet's gaze lingers on the impressive wardrope, melancholy feelings of simpler and better times surfacing. Ones of warm fireplaces and her mother showing her much younger self how to do simple emborideries and knit simple shawls... which she would then either gift to father for no effect, or to her mother's secret friend for pieces of candy and presents. And this would be an AWESOME shawl so she'd better get the very best ones this time!
The grin fades when she reaches the circle and less pleasant imagery replaces hit, of frowning instructors surrounding her older self when she tried over and over again to make a similar one which she knew was perfect but just as predicted had no effect for her and only her. She couldn't even produce even the weakest conjuration in what should have been the very best conditions. The best tutors. The best materials. A carbon copy of every line. She could feel the less accepting members of the old families smile at her ineptitude and the sheer humilitation of it was... was...
"Please, stand aside," She quietly says. "This is a standard geometric circle. The triangles and pentagrams anchor its spatial position. The outer octagons represent the maximum distance. The inner hexagons are descellerant. Without the first three, it no longer works. Without the last one, using it is potentially lethal, not unlike falling from a great distance onto a solid slab of rock." It was recited monotomously as if from a textbook. "...But Martella wouldn't want us to risk the mission to gamble on that last bit, even if her uncle is implied to be problematic. "
She takes out a vial and very carefully poors tiny droplets of its contents over the intersecting silvery lines of the outer figures. "Silver... for all its worth and splendor, it dissolves very readily faced with most acids. And with how delicate this drawing is, even minute disruptions in the right spots cause it to fail. All the worse then, if they can't even find how and where it was disturbed - and thus wouldn't know where to begin fixing it."
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Velvet points out the elements and patterns underpinning the arcane construction that is the teleportation circle, but as she does so she realizes that this one is far more complex than any she has encountered in textbooks. There are several levels of redundancy for every aspect, and additional strengthening runes. It takes all her concentration, together with Lotti helping pinpoint the spots that would allow for the most efficient application of the acid and Barcos adding a little magical encouragement, but in the end she stands amidst several curling wisps of smoke confident that the teleportation circle is for now unusable.
"Fine work," Marius congratulates as the caustic smoke curls up from the disabled circle. "The hardest part is over, I trust. Now we go to Count Bartleby Lotheed and take him into custody. I hope he'll see reason."
Faenia moved up to Velvet, and slaps her on the back, ”hah! Amazing! You really stomped that out. Much better than my plan - to just hit it.” She looks around for anything they can loot that isn’t nailed down, and then moves to the stairs to head down and tie up the ground floor.
The ground floor of the Palace of Birdsong is mostly dedicated to entertaining guests and leisure activities. From the marble porch overlooking the garden where dozens of gold cages hold both native and exotic singing birds, one enters the palace through a grand hallway whose pristine white walls are decorated with portraits. From Yanda's prior infiltration, the party is aware that the four marble columns carved in the likenesses of Abadar, Aroden, Cayden Cailean and Shelyn that hold up the ceiling in this hallway are in fact enchanted protectors and that only the count and his seneschal know the passphrase to disable them.
The eastern side of the ground floor holds the library, the grand ballroom and a series of entertaining spaces - drawing rooms, parlors, recital rooms - as well as the kitchen, pantry, the head housekeeper's room and a hidden service passage.
The library is well-stocked, containing detailed works on a wide variety of subjects. It is also a display space for a number of antiquities, including a functioning Jistkan timepiece, a teak-and-ivory globe and the quill used to sign the Treaty of the Wildwood, all protected in glass cases.
The massive space that is the Grand Ballroom is tiled with marble and painted in rich, warm colours. Ten-foot-tall windowed doorways to the north lead to the porch, and plush benches line the east and west walls. The ceiling here is 40 feet overhead.
The service passage allows servants and guards to move about the entertaining spaces without disturbing guests. Through the doors accessing this space are concealed from the exterior, they are unadorned and obvious from this side. The grand ballroom, the entertaining spaces and the kitchen can be accessed from this passage, and there is a door leading to the carriage house outside the palace, as well as a staircase ascending to the upper floor.
The kitchen is large and can provide enough cooking and baking to entertain up to 80 people at a time, although it is rarely staffed to handle more than 10. The pantry is well-stocked, with supplies of beans, flour, rice and other non-perishable food that could feed the entire palace for half a year, in addition to the huge collection of spices, dried herbs and pickled and preserved produce from all across Taldor and beyond. A set of stairs descends into the palace's considerable wine cellar.
The last space in this area is the vault, which is secured with a thick iron door and a set of formidable-looking locks.
The western side of the ground floor holds the game room and the spaces dedicated to hosting guests.
The Lotheeds do much of their personal entertaining in the cozy game room, a well-lit room appointed with a billiards table, whose walls are lined with dart targets, scoreboards and cabinets full of gaming supplies. A small office next to it serves as an art sutdio, with a half-finished family portrait featuring a much younger Bartelby and Martella with their then-living father.
The guest bedrooms, sauna, public bath and sanitary facilities occupy the rest of the western wing, together with the waiting room and guardroom with which the party is already familiar.
Two staircases, one next to the bathrooms and the other next to the head housekeeper's room, lead to the upper floor.
With the teleportation circle destroyed and the most useful items safely stashed away, the group descends to the lower level of the tower again, making their way towards the rest of the ground floor of the Palace of Birdsong.
As the office doors are opened into the guardroom, it is clear that the situation has changed. Both Titus Lotheed-Casava and his friend Syras Cockleburr are conscious and free of their bonds - and have been joined by Count Bartelby Lotheed himself and his seneschal, Sir Gul Guisarne. Dame Carodd Hellebore is nowhere to be seen.
"I was hoping that my uncle's guardians would deter you from your foolish venture, more's the pity," sighs Bartelby. "I don't know what you did to cause all my faithless guards to abandon their duty, but rest assured that the palace and I are far from defenseless."
Marius' eyes go flat and hard as he surveys the room, taking in the re-armed Titus and Syras in particular.
"I trust Dame Carodd has come to no harm?" he asks, ignoring Bartleby's theatrics.
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Velvet's sighed inwardly. In retrospect, it would have been the correct choice to let Titus bleed out when he was an inch from death, so he wouldn't have stood before them again. But what was done was done.
Hearing Bartelby's words, however, she cannot quite suppress a sense of incredulity and gives the Count a stern look. "What *we* did? No, I believe it is more about what *you* did, Bartelby Lotheed. Or rather, what you *didn't* do. Until our arrival your entire prefecture, with the exception of Lotheedar itself, was in complete disarray. I'm not even sure where to begin describing the anarchy, the many dangerous beasts and state of disrepair and poverty of the various regions. Which we mostly managed to revert using but a fraction of your resources in just two months. Which leaves the question of why you hadn't, but also answers why Lord Erallan is much more popular among the people than you are now."
She crosses her arms despite her magic-indured tiredness and the crossbow weighing one of them down. "In fact, I would recommend you surrender. First, we've already proven being dangerous enough to solve all your previous problems by force. Second, the rest of our forces are already on their way. And third, even your *own* guards just walked out on you - without *any* interference on our part. They all just chose to leave despite being on your payroll. You must realize how precarious your position is. Even if you gamble the lives both of yourself and your men here and somehow manage to deal with us, how long until the mob comes for you, now that they've seen a better way? What do you give to them other than crooked tax collectors and a complete negligence to their needs?"
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Syras sighs dramatically in response to Marius's question. "Dear Carodd has chosen to abstain from... all this. Weak nerves, that one, I've always said so."
Count Bartelby Lotheed at first frowns at Velvet's outburst, then a thin, humourless smile replaces that expression, making him look like a long-suffering uncle.
"Ah, such youthful passion. Admirable, if misguided." He takes on a patient, benevolent air, like a teacher who is about to explain to a pupil where exactly they went wrong in their mathematics homework. "Do you know what happens to children whose parents solve all their problems for them? They grow up weak and incapable. I should have asked the Grand Prince a long time ago to replace these incompetent nobles who cannot care for their charges, but I thought His Majesty had larger problems to trouble him than a few villages in a backwater county." He cocks his head slightly, regarding Velvet. "Speaking of children, this type of naïve idealism reminds me of someone. Perhaps you are acquainted with my younger half-sister, hm?"
Without waiting for a response, he continues. "Tell me, did she put you up to this? I am aware of her association with the princess - another misguided child - and it would not surprise me in the least if she was the one manipulating you into this foolhardy attempt. Now please, cease making fools of yourselves with your blundering attempt at a coup. You are on the losing side here, and it's sad that you don't even know it."
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Faenia inhales, and exhales, and it's obvious that she's thought carefully about each person's short monologues. "Okay Sir, and I say that with all due respect. I am a commoner." She clips her greatsword to her back, and raises her hands, "it's likely not too much of a suprise to see me - and I wasn't trying to deceive you - I do think you have managed some things well. But I will tell you, I am a little disappointed."
She shakes her head slightly, and struggles to start "there is... hmm" She searches for the words, "okay, let me tell you something that happened once in my home country. We once had this... I suppose skald, like a bard here in the south - some skill with magic, and the blade. You are following, yes? Anyway, they worked for a konungr - a king. The king wanted them to find some great tales to inspire the court, for they had to impress another king - who was visiting. This other king wanted to make an alliance with the first." She looks Bartleby in the eyes, "this first king, he told the Skald that there were certain conditions that had to be met - the saga had to reflect well on certain themes, be impressive, and be exciting - remember, this is an old tale, they did not have as much live theater - " She smiles slightly.
"So this skald, he was clever, and he realizes that he can meet his liege's needs by just hiring a bunch of kids to make things up. He went to the mead-hall and drank with his coin, heartbroken from some past-love that had left him, wanting to be away from the world." Her voice is sad, "the kids collected some tales and the skald put them into his bag, and kept drinking, deep into his cups. Out of coin, he returns to his liege and says 'sire, I am ready.' And the second king, he came for the feast." She clears her throat, "but the skald - he did not do the work himself. He did not even check the tales. He took them out and read them, and the saga - they were about how foolish the second king was, how stupid they were. The children he hired had been just kids - they knew the second king was coming and wanted to stick it to the lazy skald."
"This second king is furious with the first, he calls for his guard, and his forces attack the first king, slaying all the court, and driving the skald's entire house out of existence. The second king had the superior numbers, the superior forces, and the skald did not even notice or care. They just wanted to make themselves happy, I suppose. To escape their task. For that, they and their liege paid for their lives." She chuckles, "the ultimate price - the final one. You probably do not think much of it - but these holdings in the countryside had, by indecision, inattention, or anger - many fell apart. But having these titles, it comes with responsibilities. Like the skald - there are consequences to just not caring."
She gestures at the house around them, "the Merratt estate is very well kept! This is not just the seneschal's work. You have had within you some capacity to impress people, to be respected - though it is hard to be loved by anyone." She shakes her head, "and respect without fear, which only gets a ruler so far. You know, there is a limit to how much anyone can be tested, and as I said, what disappointed me was that when I spoke with you, you just... did not acknowledge your problems. What happened to make you not care? I just do not understand" She folds her hands in front of herself, "no matter what happens, I hope you think about what I am asking, if only for yourself." She nods, exhales, and steps back.
There is some glimmer of interest in the very beginning of Faenia's tale, perhaps the count is curious about another who would master both spell and blade - unless that sword cane he's resting his hand on is just for show, but his lithe muscular build would indicate otherwise. Then he gets impatient at the winding tale, almost cutting her off a few times.
"Miss Faenia, you wanted to learn how to govern, so here is your first lesson. Be precise and concise with your words. If you deliver judgement on one of your subjects and instead of giving a clear ruling and sentence you meander for hours with tales and fables, no one will understand what you mean." He heaves a deep sigh. "You are all so young, and I do not mean that as a compliment. You do not comprehend the larger picture, the forces at play, or the mechanisms of governance. You play at revolutionaries, but you are just the kids that your skald hired to do his work."
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Faenia nods, ”succinct. Very well. You are not suited to managing Meratt, either in temperament or in skill. I do not know. If you were then the county would not be experiencing rolling catastrophes. Stachys, the Iron Lash, the spider curse, the night swan, and even more that I have not mentioned.” She shakes her head, ”you do not care about these. You say we do not understand the big picture. Fine. So you do, but what is the point of understanding if you do not apply it? It seems like just an excuse to do as little as possible.” She folds her arms.
Bartelby waves away Faenia's argument.
"The crux of the matter is that you have no authority here and no legal grounds. My family was appointed by Grand Prince Dominus II to oversee this estate and the county of Meratt. Only an official proclamation from the ruling Grand Prince can undo that." He raises an eyebrow expectantly, as if to allow time for such an official document to be produced.
"You do not seem to be in the possession of such. Then, pray tell, what authority do you think you have to request that I step down from my royally-appointed position? And before you invoke Eutropia's name, the girl hasn't been confirmed by the Senate, and is not a ruling Grand Prince." He makes a small snort. "As if."
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"Oh, but I'm afraid I must invoke her, for you're mistaken. Taldan law owes much to Abadaran teachings like those of Saint Mada the Smith: "The sovereign is completely discharged from a duty for which no mortal wisdom or knowledge could ever be sufficient; the duty of superintending the property of private people, and of directing it towards the employments most suitable to the interest of the society. Thus let each dispose of their property as they will without fear of punishment or interference, for this right is sacred in Abadar's eyes."
"It's true enough that Dominus II appointed the Lotheeds as stewards, but he could not do so under his authority as Grand Prince. The Palace of Birdsong was a Stavian holding before they become Taldor's royal House--should another House be chosen to tomorrow," Marius' tone conveys that this is unlikely in the extreme. "This property would still belong to House Stavian. Dominus II acted in his capacity as Stavian patriarch, and that authority now rests with his descendent. So you see, in these halls Eutropia Stavian is the only name that matters."
"And do you have any proof of your association with the Stavian family, and - more importantly - the princess's written authorization to act on her behalf? Why did you not bring this up earlier, at dinner? You waited until nightfall, attacked my guards, ransacked the royal apartments... this is hardly the behaviour of lawful agents, wouldn't you agree?"
There is less posturing from Bartelby now; his manipulation tactics haven't been successful so far, so he is falling back on facts and reason.
"An absurd characterization, and you know it. You yourself just admitted that your guards didn't even turn up today--which is why that dishonorable cur Titus was stationed here. What were his words? Oh yes:" He turns and gives the offending nobleman a steely stare. "'I should probably offer you a chance to surrender, but I don't want to spoil the fun. I'll just say I did, and you refused.'"." He lets that quote hang in the air for a moment before turning back to face Bartleby.
"We fought, he lost, and yet there he stands alive and well. That ought to tell you all you need to know about our honor. Every step we have taken has been to minimize loss of life. And far from ransacked, the royal apartments have been made safe--as if you could be unaware that fiends and undead lurked in those chambers!"
Now Marius' voice softens, no longer an accusatory opponent but counseling. "My lord count, I do not believe that you put those horrors here, the notes in the lab make it clear they were Duke Panivar's doing. Your hands are clean in that matter, and though you will no longer rule Meratt County we are not here to harm you. Your guards are gone, and the county does not support support you. Make the rational choice."
Count Lotheed gives Titus a sharp look as Marius quotes him; the man looks away and shrugs, so Bartelby turns to look at Marius again.
"So, you have found my uncle's work. That is... regrettable. But do not drag others into treason with you, you do not speak for the whole county. You may be perhaps right that the Palace of Birdsong itself should be returned to the Stavian family, although I have yet to see proof that you are entitled to make such a request. The ruling of the county is an entirely different matter, however. My family was appointed into that position by Dominus II in his role of Grand Prince, so it cannot be undone by the princess - or by you. What you are doing now is rebellion, and even if you overwhelm me and my men by force, this act will be punished once the matter of succession is resolved."
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Barcos takes measure of the situation. A cruel, careless noble, one who stood in the way of turning Taldor into a nation that could truly care for it's people, one who represented everything that Barcos hated about Taldor.
He takes a good long look at Bartelby before speaking, "You know, I get it, I really do. Back against the wall, scrambling for anything you can do to hold onto your power for just a little longer. But think about it this way, do you think the common folks really give a damn about who rules them? Sure, I know who Dominus II was, but do you expect the hard-working folks who sustain this county to? Unfortunate truth is, I wouldn't."
Barcos produces from his robes the motion of censure and gives it a look, "What I have here is a signed motion of censure, certified by your peers in the nobility. Long of the short of it, you've been condemned. Let's say you refuse to stand down like we're asking, and we take the evidence we've got of your misrule to the common people. They're good, moral, law-respecting folks. They believe in Taldor's institutions of power, and don't take kindly to those who flaunt it. Do you think they'll hesitate to come on over here, torches and pitchforks, all gunning to drag you out here and give you some common justice? We're offering you courtly justice so you don't have to deal with that. Losing power but keeping your life is a damn sight better than losing both."
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"The poor cried,
'We are starving. There is no more bread, and we have nothing to eat.'
The rich man said,
'Not my problem you don’t work for your bread,'
as if he did not snatch away the grain by his own greedy hands and create filling bread for his own overflowing mouth."
Lotti's voice is nothing like Faenia's - thin and dry, buzzing at the ears like the whine of a gnat's wings, a quiet yet insistent sing-speak sound belonging somewhere between a nursery and a deathbed.
"The poor cried,
'We are dying. There is no more medicine, and we’re all ill.'
The rich man said,
'Not my problem you don’t take care of yourselves,'
as if he did not buy all the medicine and raise prices so high
the gods themselves would not
be able to reach."
The air grows ever so slightly darker around the elderly woman. A faint flicker of sickly yellow-green light from somewhere below casts pallid shadows across her face as she takes a single step forward. One trembling hand slowly rises from her side, and her voice grows in pitch and intensity to match. A wrinkled, gnarled finger points at the count.
"The poor people
stopped crying,
and the rich man was satisfied…
Until they came knocking at his door one night;
their faces were sunken,
their flesh decaying,
their eyes sightless.
They were monsters
of the rich man’s
own making.
As they devoured his flesh,
the rich man cried,
'Please, spare me!'
The ravenous zombies said,
'Not our fault
you fattened yourself
for slaughter.'"
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Wobblekins reaches up to pat at Barcos's arm, then delicately takes the letter in his mouth from the man's hand and marches across the room towards the nobleman with his tail held high. When he approaches Bartleby, he lets out a long, disapproving yowl through his trophy.
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Count Bartelby is reading over the signed letter for a third time, his brow increasingly furrowed, as Lotti begins her sing-song recitation. He takes a step back when she steps towards him, his free hand clutching at his seneschal. He startles when Wobblekins yowls, then snatches his hand away from stolid Sir Gul Guisarne.
"Fine. What is the point, anyway. You know, I worked hard. At the beginning." This last is addressed to Faenia. "But I could never surpass my father, nevermind my prodigy uncle." With brusque motions, he reaches for a ring of keys at his belt, rips it off and tosses it to Marius. "Have fun. I'll gather a few personal things, if you'll allow me." He pauses, hesitates, looks away. "Martella really put you up to this, didn't she? I underestimated her, I suppose."
Faenia looks pained, ”I - wait. I know what you feel now, trying to meet an impossible legacy and feeling like a failure. At least I have had a chance to make it up to my father. To his legacy. Could you please wait? Just … I believe… Princess Eutropia’s is coming, in some capacity. Wait. Until you speak with her. Please” She turns to the others, ”I should probably also ask her some questions… if such a thing is allowed,” she turns back to Bartleby.
”Like I said, I am here to help my father - I was not lying to you before - he is not yet committed to her.” Her nostrils flare ”he respected Pytharus - but has seen how he’s reacted to certain events. Not. Well.” She seems to take a pause, ”particularly how he General Pytharius reacted when my father sent me to speak with him.” There is pain there and Faenia doesn’t bother to hide it.
She shakes her head, as if clearing it. ”what would it hurt? Come on. Let us talk together. Tell me more about what your life was like.” She shakes her head at his hangers-on, ”without them.” Her smile is kind, and generous of spirit, broad and toothy.
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"My lord, you cannot..." Sir Gul Guisarne starts, but Bartelby puts out a hand to silence him. Titus looks aghast and appalled in equal measure.
"Why not? I have to admit that I was... rather curious about her. We did not expect the vote in the Senate to go the way it did, but somehow she managed to sway enough senators. And I suppose my- sister had a hand in that as well." He sighs, passes a hand over his eyes. "I have not treated her very well, have I? Did she want me alive so she could take her revenge?" He straightens, looks at Faenia. "Very well. Let us have drinks in my office and we can talk. A toast to bygone days."
Faenia shrugs, ”I do not know - I do not work for her, not directly. Be glad you have a chance to find out; to make amends. I will join you in a moment, my Lord.” She waits a moment before joining him, lingering, then turns to Syras and Titus.
”You had better f!##ing hope that Dame Carodd is in excellent health. Otherwise, I’ll feed you your own shriveled testicles.” With an imperious sniff, looking down at the pair before shaking her head, she smiles and turns, and follows Bartleby Lotheed into his office.
"I daresay she does not threaten you idly," Marius observes drolly as he gives Titus and Syras a cold look. "Weapons on the ground, gentleman, you've already spurned good sense once, don't test your luck."
"Goodman Guisarme, you've never given me cause to doubt that you are a loyal and honorable servant to your lord. If you give me your solemn oath that you will take no action against the Crown Princess or her servants, I'll release you on your own recognizance and return your weapons to you when you depart the Palace."
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Titus and Syras do not comply at first, but a stern look and a gesture from Bartelby has them meekly disarm and submit - although not with a lack of murderous glares from Titus and oaths of revenge muttered under his breath.
In response to Marius's offer, Gul Guisarne looks at Bartelby. "And where would I go? All that I am, I owe to the Lotheeds. By myself I am nothing, purposeless." He swallows, moistens his lips. "Please allow me to stay by the count's side. If he is to be imprisoned, then so shall I."
Bartelby looks a little pained at his seneschal's blunt assessment, and reaches out a hand to lay on Gul's shoulder - something that seems to surprise the stolid half-elf to the point that his eyes shine with unshed tears.
”Now now, boys, do play nice. I have exactly two explosive arrows left and I would hate to have wasted the time spent to make them - even if you didn’t seem to appreciate my craftsmanship that much. Perhaps you would like another sample?” She looks at Titus and while the tone was friendly, the reference to the brutal ambush on him mere minutes ago was rather blunt.
“I did try at first, but I could never live up to my father, let alone my prodigee uncle.”
”So there *is* more to it rather than just negligence or entitlement. Too many demands were placed on him and he simply gave up. Like I almost did back then.”
”I… understand. Too well, perhaps - of never being able to live up to others’ expectations. Of wanting to achieve something you can never succeed at or have,” Velvet says, feeling rather sympathetic to Bartelby just then. “”So don’t. Rebel and find a new path – a new purpose and goal that suits you . You will never be someone else. The more you compare yourself to them, the less happy you will be. You will grow bitter over their perceived talents and lose sight of your own.”
She glances to a window overlooking Lotheedar’s sparse lights in the distant night. ”Perhaps it isn’t too late. We were asked to spare your life if we could; there are those who value you or might still come to do so.” She nods briefly at Gul. ”I can’t promise it will be easy, especially not with the state the country is in. Between the political instability and the matter of the Senate Massacre unsolved, our work is cut out for us. But if you would but try again, earnestly, I would estimate there is a good chance someone could make good use of your experience and connections.”
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Bartelby inhales deeply, holding his breath for a few heartbeats before nodding brusquely to Velvet. "I will consider my path forward." He turns around, walking at a measured pace through the waiting room, turning left and walking along the corridor until he reaches the double doors at the end. He holds those open as everyone else files through, then turns left again to ascend the stairs to the upper level.
The stairs lead to a wide corridor lined on one side by bay windows overlooking the driveway as well as the more distant county scenery. A semicircular alcove holds two comfortable leather sofas and two armchairs with side tables arranged next to them. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. Would anyone care for drinks?" He begins to walk towards a small drinks cabinet, then stops and snaps his fingers. "Gul, be a good lad and disable the clockwork soldier and the golem. We don't want our guests to suffer any surprises." The seneschal clicks his heels and nods in acknowledgement, then begins to move away.
Aside from the antiques on display, a locked drawer in the desk contains a pair of magical spectacles and an intelligence-enhancing headband.
This secured room is sealed with a 4-inch-thick iron door. Velvet would have had trouble with the superior lock, but with the key ring from Bartelby it is the work of a few moments to open the door. The interior walls are lined with lead, likely to prevent snooping.
Inside lies what must be the bulk of the Lotheed fortune, including countless property deeds and stocks in different companies. Three chests contain a wealth of coin in different denominations, as well as a couple of precious oils and potions - and The Star of Cassomir, a fist-sized amber cut into a four-pointed star and containing a coiled snake.
In the pantry, a peculiar and unpleasant smell leads to an interesting discovery: 5 pounds of imported cockatrice coffee in a tin that would be worth rather a lot to the right buyer, while the cellar holds a number of rare and expensive bottles of wine. The carriage house contains the luxury carriage of the Lotheeds, as well as a set of magical horseshoes.
While Faenia and Marius converse with Bartelby Lotheed, the others being a thorough search of the upper floor.
The western wing seems to be dedicated to private apartments of the palace's permanent residents and especially prominent visitors. Portraits of the various Lotheeds line the walls, including a scowling Duke Panivar Lotheed VI, the current patriarch of the family. The suites are large and well-appointed, including a private bath and office in addition to lavish sleeping quarters.
in one of the wardrobes, a simple but sturdy knapsack contains what seems to be a travel kit.
The seneschal's office is also in this wing, and Sir Gul Guisarne reluctantly hands over the key to the door. Inside, several whips and restraints decorate the wall, looking intimidating but covered in a think layer of dust. The desk is occupied by orderly stacks of what seems to be papers related to the palace's finances and personnel accounts. A lockbox in one of the drawers contains the palace's petty cash.
The accounting office is the last room in this part of the palace. The accountant, a cleric of Abadar named Zenobius Caal, is not currently there as he does not reside in the palace and only comes in to do his work. He keeps the palace and the county books and arranges loans to local nobles and institutions. While the office itself is a treasure trove for detail-oriented administrators, the most interesting feature there is actually a secret door in the eastern wall, leading to a dusty hallway that ends in a second secret door.
Beyond those precaution measures lies a chamber painted in soothing colours that likely serves as a bolt-hole for the family in residence during times of trouble. A small wooden box is labeled "Emergency supplies".
North of the parlour there is a small chapel and several administrative spaces. The palace's private chapel is dedicated to Abadar but also includes many distinctly Shelynite motifs, such as bloomig roses and songbirds.
North of the chapel is the county archive, a room smelling of dust and old parchment. The files on the shelves seem to contain a record of every major birth, death, contract and financial transaction dating back centuries - although the organization and labeling leaves something to be desired. Fortunately, the copy of the original charter granting stewardship of the county of Meratt and the Birdsong Palace to the Lotheed family is displayed prominently, in a locked glass case.
The Lotheeds have a well-earned reputation for producing powerful arcane spellcasters, and generations of arcanists, magi, and wizards have studied their art in the palace's arcane laboratory. Steel and lead panels cover most of the walls to prevent accidental damage to the rest of the palace. Within, spellbooks emblazoned with the Stavian crest hold every 1st- and 2nd-level arcane spell, as well as a number of higher-level spells to be studied by advanced students. The space also includes an alchemist's lab, and a glass case set in the wall contains a well-used wand of dispel magic.
The western wing seems to be dedicated to more practical aspects, with many servants' rooms as well as an observatory, armory and captain's quarters. The observatory is a large, window-lined room that rises to a domed glass ceiling, exposing the entire room to a spectacular view every night. By the racks lining the walls and the scuff marks on the wooden parquet floor, it is being used as a training space by the palace guard. The clockwork soldier that Bartelby mentioned is here, whirring into motion at the sight of intruders, but a command phrase from Sir Gul Guisarne deactivates it.
The captain's quarters is a spacious but sparse room which serves as the seneschal's private space. The room contains several books on elven history, organization, and psychology. Gul reaches for a hollowed-out bedpost, retrieving a keyring with spare keys for many areas in the palace and the palace itself, handing them over. The armory contains extra equipment for soldiers, as well as weapons for residents to train with.
To the south, the artisan's loft is a warm balcony that overlooks the kitchens below and is used for a variety of chores, particularly in the chilly winter months. Most of the palace's cobbling, sewing and weaving happens here, where the head housekeeper can watch both the crafting tasks and the kitchen work below.
And last, but not least, Count Lotheed's office - flanked by waiting rooms featuring large, sturdy wooden chairs with feet carved into bear paws. The double doors open into an imposing space, with darkwood paneling reaching up to a frescoed ceiling depicting First Emperor's Taldaris's conquest of Cassomir. A desk, carved from dark purple wood to look like owls with their spread wings supporting the work surface, occupies the center of the room, while plush burgundy chairs surround the remaining space. A family portrait on the western wall depicts a dozen stern-faced nobles - a teenaged Bartelby among them - and a single hound, though the dog is clearly a later and more amateurish addition to the otherwise high quality artistry.
Barcos takes a look at the bottle of gin as a slim smile spreads across his face, "Well, seems there's some materials for a celebration once all this is said and done."
After jotting down the passphrases to the constructs in his notebook and giving quiet instructions for a rider to be dispatched to Martella within the hour, Marius rejoins Bartleby and Faenia in the former's office.
Accepting a glass of brandy graciously, Marius sweeps his gaze around the room until it settles on the portrait and the strange dog. "Ah, was a member of the family left out?" he asks, gesturing with his glass at the dog. The corner of his mouth turns down in a slight frown.
"A matter of comparative urgency, Count Lotheed, would be to determine what must be done with your aunt. I trust you are not unaware of...what she is?"
Bartelby sighs, rubbing his forehead with one hand. "Ah... yes, I am aware. I think that is a matter best left to my uncle, since he was the one who... well." He raises his head, gazing out the windows into the gardens. "At times, one forgets that she- it is not a real person. It is certainly more than a construct of magic. I'm not entirely sure what Panivar has done to infuse so much of the real Veleto in her- in it. As I said, a prodigy in the arcane arts, my uncle."
As attention is being focused on the painting, a frightful moaning rises from inside the room. A spectral apparition floats above the floor, its features barely recognizable as one of the men in the portrait - the one with his arm over Bartelby's shoulders. The phantom continues to wail as it bobs up and down over the floor, miming a turning gesture with its fingers, as of that of a dial.
"At a certain point, I'm certain there's a meaningful distinction between a 'person' and a construct with its own thoughts, desires, and impulses, even though she started as a template of your aunt I agree that she's more than a facsimile. However, she sets our paladin's teeth on edge and I don't think it's wise to keep her here. I'll make arrangements for her to be escorted too--cursed dark what the Hells is that?!"
Marius surges to his feet, brandy glass forgotten and Koriana's Blade half out of its sheathe as the ghostly entity manifests. He pauses, eyes wide and staring as it pantomimes. "I--is that--is he trying to tell us something?"
To Marius it is rather clear that this is a ghost, likely the ghost of Bartelby's father by its distorted features. As the apparition notices the attention, it resumes its gesturing but seems unable to communicate verbally beyond the repeated moaning.
Slowly easing he sword back into its scabbard, Marius raises his other hand and mirrors the dial-turning gesture. "Okay, okay, so we're turning a knob, yes? Like...a safe? A hidden safe, perhaps?" He points at the portrait and repeats the gesture, pointing out various plausible hiding spots for a safe. "Is it here? Here? Or here? Just, um, nod your head if I'm getting closer, okay?"
With mimed guidance from the ghost, Marius is able to find the compartment hidden under the floorboards. Within there is indeed a safe.
"Marius, we finished cataloging the noteworthy findings. I'll have a messenger deliver it to-" Velvet enters the room and makes an 'O' face at the scene of a ghost in a painting giving him directions and the inquisitor following them.
"Would you please tell me you're still yourself and that it doesn't have some mental control over you?" She asks, hesitantly reaching for her sap. When it appears as though nothing nefarious is going on, she relaxes and offers to open the chest.
Velvet's expertise gets the safe open on the first attempt as the ghost hovers anxiously over her shoulder. Once the lock clicks open, the spectral manifestation dissipates with a sigh.
Inside the safe are a variety of birth certificates, newspapers, royal announcements and travel documents dating back 300 years. It seems that the name Panivar is very popular in the Lotheed family, as all these documents concern men named Panivar Lotheed I, Panivar Lotheed II and so on until Panivar Lotheed VI.
Additionally, there are a few valuables in a locked desk drawer.
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“Fascinating.” Lotti carefully examines the certificates, holding one after another up to the light. An expression of some sort crosses her face - surprise, glee, curiosity, worry in rapid succession. She hands two of the papers to Marius, then another two to Velvet. “Here, look at this. Put the two atop each other and look at the light through them. See how they’re almost perfectly identical?” She pauses for a moment to let the younger folks confirm her observations. “Now, if these were made by a printing press, that would be one thing - but these are clearly handwritten, so they’re likely all written in the same hand. Whose hand? Now that’s the tricky bit. And so is the next question: why would the family - or someone in the family - need these and have locked them up in a safe here?”
"Evidence?" Marius shrugged."If you think these are the original certificates, and all but the first are fake, what does that imply? Six generations of Lotheeds...are all actually one generation? That would be a dangerous secret to have uncovered; but this is all speculation, a great deal more research is needed. Quietly."
“And so is the next question: why would the family - or someone in the family - need these and have locked them up in a safe here?”
"Why indeed. Since if such effort is taken to hide them, we can assume no one else knows the truth, especially outside the family." The vigilante's eyes narrow as the headband they'd found seems to open her mind to new possibilities - or perhaps pushed them in the direction of its own knowledge. "But given its nature... why haven't surrounding families ever noticed? That would mean..."
She turns and walks back to the portrait, approaching the ghost with a healthy dose of hesitance. "Thank you for pointing us here. I'm Velvet, nice to meet you." She does a polite bow. "I'm not sure what this means, however. You directed us here, so I assume you want Paniver taken down, correct? You wish for revenge?" She waits for the response. "Did Panivar kill you?" She waits again. "I see. From what we've seen, it's apparant that he's much older than he should be, and that he can apparently switch his appearance. The latter is not strange for a magician, but we've also found notes detailing him involved with... let's say necromantic practices. Is he somehow taking something from his family to maintain his youth and appearance despite his age?"