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A Brighter Tomorrow, Chapter 1: Grand Strategy Rain. When anyone thinks of the Starlit Fields, they think of the rain...and ash. It's always a torrential downpour with them. One or the other. A war between the gods' efforts to create the perfect breeding ground for prayer they can grow fat on and the earth's refusal to heal, to move on from the trauma its wayward children inflicted upon her thirty years ago. It was a battle that set the fields ablaze, and rent the skies with its ferocity. When it ended, nothing was the same anymore. The military men and women retreated, safe in the knowledge that they hadn't lost face, that they hadn't given ground, and left all the rest of us behind. To suffer. ...The rain falls. Soon it grows heavier, choked with ash. The cycle continues, with us trapped in-between them. Same as it always has. Out there, a boy takes a lost girl by the hand and sells her sanctuary, burning a searing memory of bliss into her she'll carry for the rest of her life, unaware he'll be gone with her coinpurse when the dawn breaks tomorrow. In another place, a patrician stops by his favorite library to buy a book of bawdy love songs dressed up as poetry. He stows it in his coat, unaware it'll save his life when a pair of muggers rob him for all he's got and stab him for good measure. One of them knows this is supposed to be an assassination. The other one doesn't. They'll both be hanging from the walls by next week, all because the would-be assassin's mother needed some extra money this month to pay for her medicine. In one of the city's clinics, a mother lets out a sob of joy as she cradles her baby in her arms, unaware that the little thing'll take her last breath within five heartbeats. The joy becomes a wail of despair as realization dawns on her that she's lost another child. She'll soon follow her, out the window and to the Lethe, for another turn at the wheel, another chance at redemption. Life goes on. Life continues to be suffering. Same as it always was. In the most devastated part of town, a flower blooms. It spreads out seeds of light when no one's looking. They fall into the dirt beneath the ash and burrow, ready to germinate when the sun comes up tomorrow. This is their story. --- "Chi! He's gone!" The door to the communal bedroom burst open, disrupting Chi's perfect focus as he tried to imitate the amazing maneuver he'd seen Sun pull off last night. Startled, he dropped the sword he'd sneakily snuck out of Brother Lono's armory. It clattered to the ground with such an awful racket it could've been heard all the way back at the treatment centre. Frantically, he scrambled to pick it up before his mother or one of the brothers and sisters of the Flower came knocking, a taste that was made all the more difficult by the trembling of his hands and the way Kai was pulling at the sleeve of his robe. "H-hey! Calm down, I'm listening! Just let me pick this up first and we can go see where Haku is and—" "No! You don't understand! He...he..." Kai's lower lip trembled, as he struggled not to cry. Suddenly, Chi realized something was very, very wrong. His little brother (by only a few minutes, but still!) never cried. Screams were one thing, but he hated to show anyone tears, lest they think he was a baby in need of protecting. "Chi? What's wrong?" He asked, his own voice wavering a little from the concern. But his little brother didn't answer. He just gulped and pulled at his sleeve again. "T-This isn't funny. C'mon, talk to me. You're scaring me..." "The swordsman in training is right, little brave." That wispy, throaty voice that reminded Chi so much of the fortune teller up in the Graveyard his mother had told him to stay away from was coming from the doorway. When Chi saw who it belonged to, his heart sank. "Only a fool or a beast leaves family to worry. You are neither." Alai Shai Chen stepped into the dormitory accompanied by no sounds, bar the quiet whisper of her robe. The lenses of her featureless mask stared deeply at the troubled child, inscrutable as ever, but her voice was soothing as she knelt down beside them. "Brother to a subtle thief I've been tracking down, yes, but that is no fault of your own. But that is for later. Come, tell us what worries you. Who's disappeared?" Kai looked back and forth between his older brother and the inscrutable Shining One, who never showed her face. Hesitation and a desperate need for comfort warred for control behind his eyes as he slowly began speaking. "I was...I was learning my letters with Brother Rean. Master Lin Zhen came in and told him he'd have to make time to pick up a couple more students. He asked why, and Master Lin Zhen said...she said...she said Zeidh was gone!" The last few words came out choked, Kai's body trembling from the effort to keep his composure. "Suns sink in the west only to rise in the east once again the next day, little brave," Alai said, gently. "Zeidh has left us before. He will return, and soon. Do not worry about it." "N-no." Kai shook his head vigorously. "She said, she said he'd be gone and she didn't know when he would...she said she didn't even..." And then, the dam broke. "...She said she didn't know if he'd even come back! Bwaaaaahhh!!" Dimly, Chi noticed his hand fell lighter. When had the sword fallen from his grip once again? It was very strange, just like Zeidh being gone. Hadn't he promised he'd talk with Sun about teaching him some moves when Mom wasn't listening? But how was he supposed to do that now that he wasn't here anymore? In his sorrow, Kai had thrown himself into Alai's arms. The little poet was so stunned it took her several seconds to register she was being touched before pulling away with a strangled hiss, as if burning metal had brushed against her flesh. "Listen to me now," she said, and her hoarse voice cut through the haze of confusion like a knife. Such was its intensity that Chi couldn't help but stare at her, and pay close attention. "I must go speak with the Master now. Find your mother, and bring that blade with you. Tell her Shai Chen says we will need many more like it, and soon, to make up for what we've lost. Let no one else know of this, not until the Master herself lets it be known. Not even your mother, you understand? No one!" She waited only long enough to see the children nod once, and then she was gone, like a white shade. As the door shut behind her, Chi felt a weight press against his chest. He couldn't understand why, but the air of the Flower Amidst the Ashes felt different now, heavier. Something had changed. --- 'Like traveling upstream through the Tien' had become a popular way of expressing foolhardiness amongst the northeastern ferrymen of the Blessed Isle for the past thirty years, and with good reason. With shifting rocks that changed in position dramatically from one voyage (and sometimes, one moment) to the next, it was all but inevitable that an enterprising boatman would eventually find himself shipwrecked and washed ashore, if the treacherous current didn't do him in first. And yet, Kon the Daredevil persisted in plying his trade, shouting like a man possessed as he egged his rowers onward. Once they made enough headway against the current, Ineffable Grace in Upheaval finally understood why. Past a certain point, the water stopped flowing towards the ocean. Instead, it began flowing in reverse. As soon as the current took over, the rowers stopped struggling with a grateful sigh, and the boatman's work truly began. With only split seconds to navigate the traps the river had laif for him, Kon focused entirely on his duty -- and performed it flawlessly. They covered miles in what felt like moments, and even time seemed to pass faster, as soon as the skies began to darken. It took Grace a moment to realize it wasn't because it was getting late, however. Up above, massive black clouds stretch out all the way to the horizon, casting a dark pall over the buildings of Starlit Fields, the place that would soon become his new home. As he turned his attention towards it, something brushed against his cheek. A fleck of ash. --- From the Tien, to the Shiohana docks, to a small two-storied teahouse not far from the shoreline. Tranquility Teahouse was what it was called, and the name couldn't be more misleading as he struggled to make his way through the throng of citizens clustered within. Most of them seemed to be engaged in a massive debate that repeated itself across several tables, too chaotically and messily to catch more than brief fragments. "...Bunch of bullshit if you ask me, Prefect should just cut out the middleman and choose himself for—" "Don't bet on it, you fool, I'm telling you it's all rigged, you should put your money on candles—" "...Gonna try and see if I can earn myself a spot, the qualifier rounds don't have a minimum investment—" Beyond them, a stairway led up to the second floor. His destination. The place where he would receive his mission.
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Oct 28, 2020 23:59
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A Brief Debriefing Scene: Tranquility Teahouse, Second Floor, In Council "Money is the root of all evil. So say the thinkers on the cutting edge of philosophical theory. It is the quintessential object of desire, a token that can be something concrete and everything at the same time, provided one has enough of it. It is power, and the rules of society made compact and expandable. Yes...it is a mighty force, and the arguments the great thinkers present in favor of its influence upon man make a great deal of sense at first glance." Master Lin Zhen's weathered face, aged before its time, narrowed into an expression of utmost contempt. "They are fools. Man is the root of all evil, this much is plainly apparent to anyone willing to look at the world and the causes behind its current state of decay. The assignment we are gathered here to discuss involves money and the root of all its evil. Do not make the same mistake these theoreticians did by confusing cause and effect." Two strong, decisive taps on the floor upset the pile of parchments lying on top of a bowl, sending them sprawling all over the far side of the table, where her Solar and Lunar students sat. As the documents spread out to encompass all the available space, she continued speaking, her delivery precise and swift, wasting no time with unnecessary asides or words. "A few days ago, the Dragonblooded Deliberative passed a motion authorizing the allocation of two million silver dinars from the Realm's coffers to the city. Their purpose is to fund the reconstruction of the Nepenthe." The blue light district, a large sprawl none too distant from the Graveyard of Fireflies, and a neighborhood that was barely doing any better -- one could argue it was perhaps in an even worse state of disrepair, considering how similar the living conditions were in spite of being under the open, constant auspices of a god. "The stated aim is to transform and modernize the area, turning the exoticism of the city's living conditions from a drawback to a draw. By turning the area more palatable to the noble class, the Deliberative hopes to revitalize the region's economy, and return the city to its former glory. The hidden intention underneath it is power, as it always is." The master paused for a moment, waiting to confirm that the lesson had sunk in before continuing, her voice soft as silk, slow as the ebbing tide. "This power is as-yet unclaimed. The funds are allocated, and may not be taken back, but a contractor has yet to be appointed to helm the project. As a result of the fierce competition to present the most compelling bid, the Deliberative has opted to allow the challengers to determine who the chosen candidate will be by themselves. To prevent matters from escalating to open violence, however, the Deliberative opted to determine the battlefield upon which this war would be waged. It is to be a tournament of Gateway, waged upon the stage of the Daoshang theatre, before an open audience." Wry amusement crept into the master's voice as she continued. "In this, the dragons showcased remarkable foresight. The last bidding war sparked by the Deliberative left no less than a thousand bodies in its wake, peasant and noble alike. While this one is sure to be equally treacherous, it should also be far less bloody. None of their faction leaders wish for this particular renovation to become a flashpoint. And so, to provide an illusion of legitimacy, they've instated an entry fee of ten thousand dinars -- and a set of qualifying rounds, open to all, for the impoverished and the greedy to try their luck with." Once more, she tapped the floor, demanding her students' attention. Her voice was low and forceful as she continued. "We cannot stop this bidding war from taking place. Your duty is not to disrupt the dragons' plans completely. Instead, your task will be to control the proceedings, and ensure the contract will go to a victor who will use these funds for the benefit of the people. Ours, and the Nepenthe's. That is all. Remember your goals, and adapt your methods to achieve them. These documents bear information on the location, prospective candidates, and their aims. To ensure you can make use of them, I have had an expert on strategy brought in to assist you..." Suddenly, Lin Zhen paused, raising her head upwards, as if to confirm something she had heard. Then she nodded once, confidently. "Ah. And there he is. Welcome, Ineffable Grace in Upheaval," she said, exactly at the moment Grace came in. "Your comrades have been waiting to meet you. They will explain the situation to you...assuming they have kept their minds and ears open." After acknowledging the new arrival, she sat down, laid her cane aside, and raised a bowl of smoking tea to her lips. "You have until I finish my tea to ask questions, young ones. Make the most of it." Boulder noted the remarkable organization of the papers upon the table, then focused his attention on the section of each competitor’s description that hinted at motives. First, establish who it might be worthwhile to help. The list of candidates was marked as incomplete, and yet even so, it spanned many pages. Each candidate was listed with a brief rundown of their circumstances and presumed motives, alongside prospective locales where more information could be found on them. Three candidates in particular caught his eye: quote:Ilscha, Kalina quote:V’neef, Valeth quote:Linnea, Aurea Boulder opened a small case he had placed on the table upon arrival. He held up a white stone. “Investigation requires knowledge of spirits.” A blue stone. “Investigation requires ability to make friends.” A yellow stone. “Sneaking.” Black stone. “Remove from tournament.” The snakeman placed a white stone on the paper of Aurea Linnea, a blue stone on Valeth V’neef, and a yellow stone on Kalina Ischa. “Other possibilities exist.” He shrugged. Rook leaned forward, scanning the documents spread on the table. “No chance of putting forth our own candidate, I take it.” It was more of a statement than a question. “How long do we have?” There was a beat. “And perhaps more importantly, who don’t we want to win?” “The qualifying rounds begin tomorrow night,” said the master, staring at him over the edge of her bowl. “Once they do, you will have to work with what candidates you have. As for your other question...” She took a long, long sip. Silence set in, only to be broken by her voice moments later. “It is a misaimed question, boy. I could talk until my tea ran cold and not run out of candidates who could cause us no end of trouble. But the intent behind your words is clear. The candidates who could cause the most trouble are the two put forth by Sesus; The daughter of Mnemon; The Prefect’s catspaw; and the King Amidst the Ashes’ protegé. Any of those succeeding would introduce a new, hostile power to the city, or serve to entrench a preexisting one irrevocably. See to it that they do not.” If the subtle rebuke bothered Rook, he was careful not to show it. “Who hasn’t moved that we expected to?” “Mmm. A more discerning question, that one.” Master Lin Zhen was never effusive with her approval. Coming from her, such a form of acknowledgement was high praise. “It was unexpected that Ledaal Duc Jiang chose to act through a proxy instead of participating as a player himself. He was a frontrunner to secure the contract. He must be playing a secret game — one to which we are not yet privy.” She paused for a moment to seize a rice cake courtesy of the owner, whom she’d befriended long ago. It disappeared in mere moments, as if such an indulgence were not allowed to her, and needed to be disposed of with great haste. “There is also the matter of the Immaculate Order. Though abbess Felicity has shown little interest in wealth, it is a given that she would send someone to participate, if only for the chance to save the poor unfortunate souls of the Nepenthe from their lives of sin and that goddess she likes so little. With official backing, they would have no choice to bend the knee and listen to her sermons. There must be a mandate at play preventing her from taking action.” Wandering Sun wasn’t in his element in these sorts of strategic meetings, but that was something he hoped one day would change, so he always paid close attention. He focused and let his mind cough up a few potential dangers or things to consider - he had no doubt they were simplistic or incorrect, but that was fine. He would compare his ideas to those of his more experienced teammates and try to understand what he’d overlooked so they’d be better next time. “The qualifiers, it will be a pretty big gathering, right? A big prize with lots of people applying, and I’m sure they’ve all got friends watching. Crowds usually means injuries or people overindulging in drink or drugs - can we send a delegation from the hospital to be present on compassionate grounds?” He didn’t sound like he lacked confidence, per se, but he definitely sounded like he was inviting someone to tell him if it was a bad idea, or that it had already been considered and dismissed for reasons that hadn’t occurred to him. “We could try. Without permission from a suitable functionary, however, they would be afforded no special privileges, and would have to work from within the crowd.” The response was swift, borne from a wealth of medical experience on the field. “Cramped quarters make for poor -treatment. If you wish to aid the ailing, they deserve better than that. And as the guests of honor are likely to bring their own medical retainers, it will be difficult to persuade those in charge of organizing the event to allow a rag-tag brigade of quacks and volunteers to oversee the proceedings.” Difficult, but not impossible. When the master wished to communicate that a task was beyond his reach, she was always quick to do so. This was simply a word of caution, nothing more. "If I may." Grace took this time to speak up, before getting too lost in that plan. He'd also like a cup of the tea the master is drinking but this comes first. "I'd like to show an observation: If the prize of this tournament outweighs the cost, our... unknown opponents, and key players would benefit from fielding additional players of their own to bolster their chances. Not just any of their own people, but anyone who would be keen to play and lose on their behalf. This extends to these three players. If we're backing them, I urge we need to ensure that nobody else has their hooks in them." Silence… Well, good for everyone else to catch on to that at least. May as well move to other questions. Bouquet fucked around with this message at 07:49 on May 22, 2021 |
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Nov 6, 2020 00:19
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A Brief Debriefing, continued “Do we know where the tournament and qualifying rounds are taking place?”, asked Grace. The Master of the School of Medicine did not dignify that question with a response. Instead, she continued enjoying her fireleaf tea at her own leisure, sparing her students a sideways glance as she did so. It is the responsibility of the advanced pupils to educate their less-learned fellow students was a common refrain at the School’s tutoring halls. All responsible for each other’s growth — that was how she liked to teach. “Daosheng Theater.” Heretofore as silent and motionless as the statues she made, the Graven Icon of Fidelity spoke at last. Her gray eyes flicked to the pile of documents, scanning over the characters. “Dame Ilscha’s generosity seems...conspicuous. Might she be acting under compulsion?” “It is possible. Her actions are not unexplainable, but ten thousand dinars is a hefty monetary sacrifice for a simple patrician.” The master’s cane came up to point at Fidelity. “Who do you suggest is behind her?” “I have not enough proof to level accusations,” Fidelity said, inclining her head, “but two notions come to mind. If she is indeed a skilled player, then she might be made to remove another’s rivals before forfeiting herself. If she is not, then her entry fee might in truth be a ransom payment.” Boulder grunted into the pause as the others considered Fidelity’s statement. He had been continuing to distribute his colored stones across the papers as the discussion proceeded. He held up a green stone. “Can ignore.” He carefully placed it on the last of the descriptions. “Died yesterday.” It was the only green stone on the table. “Thank you, child. Your recordkeeping is appreciated.” The softening of the master’s tone was almost imperceptible as her gaze shifted toward Boulder’s handiwork, but it did not go unnoticed by those with keen ears. Just as much as she valued carefully considered action, she valued efficiency. Using the periods of time in which one was not speaking to put down notes was both. “Blackmail, or a firedust martyr,” Lin Zhen mused. A quiet ‘hmm’ escaped her pursed lips. “Plausible, yes...will you take it upon yourself to investigate this matter and uncover the mastermind you suspect to be behind the patrician’s candidacy, then, silver sage? Or is this duty to be handled by another?” Fidelity stiffened slightly at the unspoken charge. A valiant mother and a forsaken child - might you not be too close to this one? “I would seek the truth of this matter,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. It was not quite a challenge, not quite seeking permission, and left open the floor for any who might elect to join her. “Pardon, Master, Fidelity” said Boulder. “Unless he,” the Lunar nodded at Grace, “is skilled at dealing with spirits and gods,” Boulder continued without pause, seeing little about the new arrival to suggest he might be skilled at dealing with spirits and gods, “we might need her focused on another task.” He glanced at the stones on the table.There were not many white stones on the table, but still enough to suggest at least one expert might be needed. “Aurea Linnea?” Fidelity asked, in a tone that sounded slightly less appropriate for a divinity than for an as-yet-unidentified stain on one’s boots. “No other can see her or any of her spirit minions if they are dematerialized. There are other such tasks, if feelings intervene.” The snakeman said. His closing qualification was said gently, with no judgement. “I trust, then, that this other mystery shall be handled with equal care,” Fidelity said, and was silent once more. “Rook might shadow Ischa to uncover the truth of the rumors of a child or other possible levers being used against her,” suggested Boulder. Rook nodded. “I can take responsibility for that,” he paused, glancing at Fidelity. “If that is acceptable.” His attention returned to the files on the table and he frowned. "Forgive me if this is a foolish question, teacher, but... Do we have any idea who the Spider is backing? I find it difficult to believe he would remain neutral, yet I see no hint of him." “No. And that, most of all, is concerning.” The master’s face twisted into a frown, her face scrunched up with tension as though she were bracing for a sudden impact. “He has no interest in this prize for himself, of this I’m certain. It is too loud, too obvious for him. But his complete lack of action is unlike him. If there is one man who can be counted on to have designs for the tournament itself, it is him. Keep an eye on him at all times. His is a fine web, and easily overlooked until it is far, far too late.” “Humans dislike and notice me,” said Boulder. “I might observe the Candlemakers’ guild hall in less noticeable forms. It is centrally located, which would let me coordinate our efforts.” “Does the committee organizing the tournament have an emergency location in case the theatre is unavailable?” At this time Grace thought it’d be time to explore something Sun suggested, a place to start. “They must. Possibly more than one. Our spies have not been able to find it, however. Only the Prefect and his fellow event organizers are aware of the backup’s location, wherever it might be. Tch.” The master clicked her tongue, displeased. “There are only so many skilled enough information gatherers we can spare. Not enough for my taste.“ Boulder grunted softly to gently remind Lin Zhen that if wishes were horses, beggars would ride. "I'm thinking that pushing the Prefect to use this backup location might give us that in," Grace gestured to Sun. "He was hoping for. Convince them a plague had been released in the area. Even if the key players have their own medics on standby, this Prefect couldn't afford another plague scare. It would also make our... unknown opponents look to each other for a stratagem for the prize they're competing for." Lin Zhen quirked an eyebrow. “And how do you suggest staging a plague scare?” Grace had to bury the pit forming in his stomach. This is like Maduka Shin's tests… "... One way it could start... is with someone catching it in the City, or showing its symptoms... Someone notable, who's seen by so many. Someone who works in the theatre... in order to make people think it originated there, and not anywhere else… No… strike that… Someone who’s in contact with those working in the theatre... like an acting company from abroad, so people would look at them, while cordoning the theatre off. That’s at least how it should look. The… better alternative is the same, but conflating a safer disease for a more dangerous one." He had to think of something else… “If we mean to benefit the people, then staging a false plague, causing fear and panic, the closing of shops and mistrusting of neighbors, is hardly a plan worth considering,” said Fara Li. He’d been silent so far, but at the mention of a ‘plague scare’ his brows had knit into something resembling a thundercloud. “The tournament will already be a disruption to the lives of many, we needn’t make it worse.” He rounded on Grace, hands tucked firmly into his white sleeves as he looked down his nose at the newcomer. “This is a place of healing. Perhaps such tactics were considered appropriate at Kether Rock, but here our mission is to purge illness and staunch wounds, not spread it and cause them. That said…” He took a breath, exhaling his anger with it as best he could. “There are other methods of making the Daosheng Theater an inauspicious place to hold the tournament. Of course, if we do, we’ll be going in blind to the new venue. Were we to discover the fallback, it would no longer be a gamble, and forcing a shift in location later in the tournament could give us an important advantage. But I would advise we keep that card in hand for now.” Fara Li stroked his thin beard. “I volunteer myself for the task of persuading a functionary to give us space for a tent, or use of a nearby building. There’s much to be learned from talking to the people, especially those betting their life savings on the matches… and if I might add one more opinion, it’s that we don’t back a single player, at least not until the field narrows. The more cards we have in hand the stronger our plays will be, especially considering there are at least five strong opponents who must be knocked out in order for us to benefit. We don’t need to rely on one blessed champion to win every match. If several acceptable candidates can win a key match each that’s just as good and far more likely.” Boulder had retrieved a sheet of paper after distributing his rocks. He added two items while Fara Li spoke, and the paper now read: quote:Beware prior arrangements with other competitors to win/lose at key moments Grace, chastened from Fara Li and Lin Zhen, shifted gears. “In that case, I’d volunteer for reconnaissance on the Theatre, and officials the rest of you could work over. With something like this in place, I suspect there may be a weak link in the committee.” “And it will be a chance for you to get acquainted with the city’s power dynamics,” Lin Zhen reasoned. “Good. I see most of you have chosen your tasks already. That leaves you, brave child. Have you decided how best to lend your strength to our efforts?” The weight of her eyes on Wandering Sun was as heavy as lead. The teacher had called him to stand before the class to answer. It would be best to put forth nothing less than an excellent effort. Wandering Sun was not really prepared to venture an answer quite yet, but the battlefield didn’t wait for you to prepare and neither did Lin Zhen. The rest of the group’s plans seemed rather delicate, and they hadn’t requested armed backup, so he wasn’t going to offer where it wasn’t needed. He didn’t have much in the way of contacts either, or any experience in investigations. Still, he was committed to not being useless, even if he wasn’t as useful as the others. He knew he had to leverage his strengths. Mostly it was combat, which wasn’t going to be useful until things started to go drastically wrong. But he could perhaps use his secondary strength, which was looking like someone whose main strength was combat. “Everyone seems to be getting involved in the tournament, which means a lot of them are going to be short on people. The gangs at least, they’ll probably be looking for cheap muscle, and I seem like I come cheap.” Indeed, very little about his appearance (other than the incredibly valuable sword which he seldom showed in public) indicated that the hospital paid him more than a pittance. “I know there are a few teahouses in the city where people with my skills go to get jobs. I thought I would visit a few of them and see who seems especially desperate to hire.” He tried to sound assured, but it was clear to anyone with a bit of perceptiveness that he was waiting on Lin Zhen (and the rest of the circle’s) approval or disapproval. “So you expect there to be trouble of a more physical sort.” The master considered his plan carefully, her fingers forming a tent before her face. “Where do you expect your services to be needed? At the theatre itself, or elsewhere, taking advantage of the distraction offered by the tournament?” Of course a simple answer wouldn’t be enough to please the master. She always insisted that it was not enough to do something, but to understand why it had to be done, and what consequences it might have. That she had not rejected his plan outright was encouraging, but he was not out of the woods just yet. Wandering Sun was always expecting trouble of the physical sort, but fortunately, a moment’s thought told him that it was probably justified in this case. “I think too many people have an interest in the event itself for there to be an open attack planned...anyone who wants the prize would have to be really desperate to escalate things to violence. There’s too many ways it could blow back.” “But outside of the tournament, well...” He gestured at the assembled group. “Five of our best have been assigned to deal with it. What would they be doing if we didn’t have this to worry about? I can only think that important things that were going to happen won’t be anymore. And I don’t think we’re the only group postponing vital work. People will be taking advantage of that.” “Spoken like a strategist and not a footsoldier.” The master bowed her head in a low nod. “I chose you well for this assignment. Your analysis is correct, Wandering Sun. While your brethren move to secure a bright future for the Nepenthe, you will be charged with protecting its present. Do whatever you must to ensure their efforts will not be for naught.” Retrieving her bowl, the master lifted it up and drank deeply from it. When she put it down once again, it was empty. “My time with you grows short, Shining Ones. I must depart to address some urgent business elsewhere. You may ask one final question of me. Think carefully, and choose wisely.” Boulder added one more line to his list: “Avoid damage to other ongoing projects in city” and slid the paper to the center of the table where all could see it easily. It was oriented such that Wandering Sun and Grace had the best angle. On a second sheet, he added one last line: quote:Fidelity - Assess Aurea Linnea’s intentions and machinations That task complete, the snakeman began copying the information on the contestants into his notebook, his writing encoded in one of the Cult’s lesser ciphers. His pace did not seem to be slowed by the task of encoding the words as he went.
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Nov 6, 2020 00:25
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A Not Particularly Brief Debriefing, continued While the others had asked their own questions, Fidelity’s attention had been drawn by another matter. That the money might be misused was no secret, but it was how it might be spent that interested her. She picked up and perused some of the denser documents on the table - the latest census in particular - and began to perform basic arithmetic using the colored stones from Boulder’s game. There were six different colors, which she used for ones, tens, hundreds, thousands, ten-thousands, and hundred-thousands as she estimated the costs of food, shelter, medicine, for every soul in the city. Then a new commercial hub. Then sealing off the essence leaking from the shattered manse. Then resettlement fees for thousands of new laborers, and their own material needs. Then an Immaculate temple, with a shrine worthy of Aurea Linnea should the goddess win. All of this, she could comfortably tally on Boulder’s six colors of stone. She took an inkstone, wrote down the amount that remained, and asked her final question - not of the Master, but of Ineffable Grace in Upheaval. “For how long could you field a legion on this budget?” Even if they restored the Nepenthe - even if they restored all of Falling Ashes - it was north of a million pieces of silver. “How much are we talking about?” Grace leans in. “Two million silver dinars is the contract award,” answered Boulder. His eyes jumped at the number. Certainly a pretty penny. He closed his eyes, trying to picture the money and numbers in his head. “I’d say it’s enough to pay anyone who wants to join that army. But feeding them? Drilling them? Equipping them so they don’t break before an enemy?... Anyone who joins would expect that their commander would provide those things for them, not spend whatever they’re given in order to have their armor and weapons… And here? You would have to hope there are farms or pastures here, or failing that a food trade. And housing.” This was stuff that had been drilled into his head by the Aloof Strategist, but what he knew of Fallen Ashes was little. “You think this city can house a legion without straining its surroundings?” When no answer came, Grace had to pull more from his teachings. Rolling Int+War 5, paying 5m for War excellency, 2 dice from stunt. @AnonymousIdiot, you rolled 1,1,2,3,3,3,3,4,6,6,7,9 for a total of 2 successes “You could field an army for a year, but it will be mercenaries, not a professional retinue loyal to you. They’ll demand high pay, and they’ll have little reason not to loot or pillage the countryside for more gains... That’s how fortunes are made in war.” “That’s for two million. You calculated somewhat less,” Boulder indicated Fidelity’s inkstone. “Army possibly of some concern,” said Boulder. “Honestly that money could be better spent elsewhere.” He finished. “A House thinks they will win,” stated Boulder. Grace looked to Fidelity, who hadn’t said anything about his answer. “Are you thinking… you might be seeing that in the future?” “I am certain that Sesus and Mnemon can arrive at this conclusion on their own,” Fidelity said. “So long as this prize might be theirs, they will fight over it.” “Indeed…” Fara Li glanced to Lin Zhen. “If I might ask our final question then, Master, at the beginning of this meeting you said that the Deliberative passed a motion allocating the money. Who proposed the original motion, and who supported it? Starlit Fields has been a scar on the Blessed Isle for long enough to generate some sympathy, but this sum is clearly over the mark. If it’s being used as a means to transfer dinars from one hand to another while earning the goodwill of the people...” He nodded to Boulder. “Our scaled friend is absolutely correct. There’s a strong possibility that the game itself is a smokescreen. A House thinks they will win.” “All of them do, Hand of Solace.” As the Shining Ones had debated the situation, Lin Zhen had closed her eyes. With their lights unable to be seen, she looked small and tired, crushed by a weight on her shoulders as heavy as the world. Her voice came out slowly, with a cadence like a meditative trance. “It is evident that a motion proposing the disbursement of such a major sum for a forgotten city could never have passed without the support of all the Great Houses. A wide-ranging confederacy voted in its favor, and the amendment that stipulated that the contractor would be determined through Gateway met with unanimous approval. The motion was drafted by Nellens Zarghidas, a bleeding heart who leapt to protect the city where he had been born and raised in its hour of need. It was not he who brought it to the attention of the Deliberative, however.” She exhaled deeply. Each word clearly took a toll on her. The knowledge must have been a heavy burden indeed, to drain the usually indefatigable Lin Zhen so. “Unable to find seconds to back his attempts at restoring Starlit Fields to its former glory, Zarghidas was overcome by despair, and committed suicide. He has been dead for the past twenty-eight years. The motion was brought forth by his seconds in his name, to honor his memory. The first was Tepet Shallya, an opportunist and desperate survivor, seeking a miracle through which to restore her House’s power and honor. The second...” Moments passed, and Lin Zhen did not speak. She never did without being certain of what she was saying, and of the way it should be said. “...The second is one of the most dangerous minds within the Greater Chamber, a master manipulator who knows the damning secrets of half its senators. She was the one who joined wit to desperation, who provided the motion of a long-dead man with ironclad legitimacy. The second was Senator Mnemon Oroth, the left hand of Mnemon.” “Well then,” said Li, after a moment of stunned silence. A wide grin crept over his face, the first he’d worn that evening. “It sounds like we have our work cut out for us.” “More than you can imagine, child.” Reaching out for her cane, the master of the School of Medicine stood up. “This is a power play the likes of which have not been seen since the Empress’ grip on her Realm was fragile. Its scale and complexity are both incalculable. I do not know if anyone truly understands the web of machinations that will soon begin to unfurl, not even the true mastermind behind this plot.” She strode past her students slowly, the tap-tap-tap of the cane against the wooden floor filling the air. It resembled nothing so much as a clock ticking, inching closer and closer to the moment its bells would ring. When she reached the door, she turned around to stare back at the Shining Ones she had gathered there. “This is a task unlike any you have faced before. You will face enemies that you know nothing about, and who appear to anticipate your every move. There may be plans afoot that shall be beyond your ability to disrupt. There may be great sacrifices you will be forced to make for the sake of victory. Do not act rashly, children. In this great game, every move will spawn a countermove, and there will be no takebacks. Question everything. Challenge everything. Protect everything, even that which you would sooner tear asunder, lest it turn out to be a vital lynchpin to your strategy you cannot afford to lose. Be all-seeing. Be brave. And when the web of schemes collapses and brings the Houses’ tower of lies down with it, be gone.” Without another word, she disappeared through the doorway. The soft impacts of her cane, so clearly audible moments earlier, could no longer be heard. Some silence passed before Grace spoke up, “I think it may be a good idea to pair up, and handle our tasks together. Another pair of eyes might spot what one doesn’t.” He paused for a bit, turning to Rook. “Mind if I come with you in regards to Ilscha, and later we case the theatre?” Rook's mouth quirked ambiguously. "I don't object... Though I admit I am somewhat more accustomed to working alone." He paused for a moment, frowned, then inclined his head slightly in Grace's direction. "I apologize; that came out perhaps harsher than I meant it. I agree that a second perspective would be useful to both of us, and, well..." He trailed off for a moment. "Master Jacek keeps telling me to expand my horizons- I would be quite interested in hearing your thoughts as a fresh observer on whatever we find." Boulder nodded at Grace’s suggestion. “Wandering Sun? Candlemakers’ is centrally located. Good for response to rest of city.” Wandering Sun nodded, grateful for some assistance in his assigned task and all too happy to provide some manner of backup to Boulder. “I’m happy to help. And if people need backup, we’ll be able to get there fast.” “Which leaves…” Li glanced across the table to Fidelity. Fate seemed anxious to push them together, if they willed it or not. “I suppose I don’t mind helping out with troublesome goddesses, if you can stomach the boredom of dealing with the local bureaucracy.” “Boredom is a burden best shared,” Fidelity said. Her body language wasn’t always the easiest to read, but she seemed far more animated than before at the prospect of working together. “Mayhaps we shall find a way to hasten the process.” With the pairings addressed, Boulder spoke: “Let’s address signals. I propose…” Boulder proceeded to outline signals the others might use to let Boulder in raiton form that they wished to interact, that they needed Wandering Sun’s assistance, or that they were being followed. With signals arranged, Boulder made another statement. “I can carry extra clothes for altering appearance or some other useful equipment. Tell me any special requests.” As the meeting drew to a close, Boulder had one last word of advice. “Our safety and stealth are most important. Losing here is a setback. Being revealed a disaster.”
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Nov 6, 2020 00:32
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Foundational Permits Scene: Founder’s Command, Foundation District The Founder’s Command was an ancient building. Built three centuries ago by Sesus Ikoris, who established the city itself as a mining outpost, it had stood practically unchanged since that elden time. The perpetually open front doors gave way to a spacious atrium, from which dozens of passageways branched out in a circle, leading to the offices of the individual civic departments that oversaw various developments within the city. The place was well-organized, with a map on the ceiling and each office clearly signposted on the walls. Perhaps because of this, the Founder’s Command had spawned a dreadful enemy, enough to make the blood of the most reckless hero freeze: endless queues. The place was jam-packed with people, young and old, rich and poor (moreso the latter than the former. The rich could afford to send executors and agents to stand in for them), all of them waiting for the glacially slow-moving lines to bring them closer and closer to their goals. A quick assessment revealed a disheartening truth: each step forward took at least five minutes of patient waiting to be won, if not longer. And there were many, many steps separating them from the Office of Infrastructural Concerns and Planned Festivals, Events and Festivities. If they waited in line, it’d be nightfall before they even saw a chance at speaking with a clerk -- if they indeed got a chance at all instead of being told to come back early tomorrow. Most likely, they would have to find another way to reach their goal. “Doctor Fara,” Fidelity began. She had dressed in the sterile linens and silken veil of his understudy physicians. “Forgive my presumption, but this does not seem conducive to gaining your permit.” “Doctor Li, please. No need to be so formal.” Li hadn’t even bothered joining the line, it was that hopeless looking. “It seems like our options are reduced to ambushing someone at lunch or forgery, and I’m sure we aren’t the first to think of either.” Fidelity perked up at the word ’ambushing’. “No...but your attention might be more welcome than another’s. You are familiar with the local wildlife, yes? Including that which broke free of Ragara Mifaru’s private collection?” “Only by way of treating the injured who’ve had the misfortune of encountering the leftovers,” Li said. “Why?” “Because there is no privy in this building. Only outhouses.” She glanced at the row of clerks, taking dumplings and tea at their desks as they worked. One of them would need to leave soon. “Cobra, I think. Do you have the appropriate antivenin?” “Not with me,” Li’s brows furrowed. Should I start carrying it…? “I could fetch some from the clinic but wouldn’t it be more than a little suspect if I just-so-happen to be carrying the cure when it’s needed? Not to mention that gratitude may not extend to favorable treatment, even low-level bureaucrats can be sticklers about such things.” “Indeed, though I see no better option for reaching the head of this queue.” She scanned the crowd, watching the fortunate few at the front who had come away with everything filed and in order. “We could acquire a permit that has already been issued, although I mislike what that would entail…” Li nodded sagely. “I agree. Resorting to bribery always makes me feel dirty.” “...yes. That is what I meant,” said Fidelity, who had in fact been considering an option which Vanira and other Lunars employed with relish but the thought of which still turned her own stomach. Just then, Li saw a tall, broad-chested guard speaking briefly to a young boy clad in a blue tunic, fancily adorned with several badges. The boy nodded, smiled, tipped a nonexistent hat, and moved aside to let the guardsman who’d been speaking with him take his place. He knew this man...his name was Ramet, one of the men working under Sikra Zem, a tireless patrolman who had never uttered so much as a complaint while in the presence of his mercurial captain anytime Li had seen him. What was he doing here? “Ah… Look, there. It’s not bribery if line-holding is a profession,” Li said excitedly. He doubted it would be that easy but it was always worth checking. “Would you mind checking the prices further up the queue? I’m going to ask the guard a few questions.” “What price are we willing to pay?” she asked. “What do you think the hospital would be willing to cover?” Li countered. “I’d sooner go with cobras in the privy than dip into my personal funds.” “As you will, then.” --- “Good morning Ramet!” Li said, approaching the man with a wide smile. “Nice to see a familiar face in this sea of humanity. Why, they had to put the map on the ceiling, or you’d never be able to find it!” He chuckled lightly. “It’s my first time here, so I’m trying to get the lay of things. Seems like it’s not as simple as just joining the end of the line, but then, life rarely is. But now you’ve got me curious. What brings the guard out to the Office of Infrastructural Concerns and Planned Festivals, Events and Festivities this fine day?” “Master Li!” The guardsman’s face lit up as he saw him approach. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. What a coincidence that the fates drew us both here! This is my first time visiting this place too. The boss needed someone to come down here and get a requisition order rubber stamped for the upcoming Gateway tournament, and it just so happened I drew the short straw for it!” After taking a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, Ramet leaned in to whisper into Li’s ear. Bulky as he was, the effect was only mildly comical, to his credit. “Just between you and me, captain Zem has been even harder to work with than usual. When I saw a chance to get away from him for a while, I jumped on it. You know how he gets when things aren’t going his way.” “More than most,” Li said, sharing a conspiratorial wink. “But I’m still surprised that you have such a late requisition. I’m late as well, of course…” He sighed dramatically. “But my lateness is due to someone suddenly having an idea that should have been proposed a week ago. Alas, certain details were too important to leave to an assistant.” “It’s not by our choice. Our ‘guests’...” The word was so firmly accented upon there could be no doubt about Ramet’s thoughts on them. “...They’ve cordoned off the theatre where the games will take place and several blocks around it. It was a miracle that we managed to persuade them to let us in, but even then, they refused to just let us into our quarters. ‘Find your own, we’ve got more important things to do than take care of some lapdogs’, they said. Bloody outlander bastards...” “But aren’t you providing security for the event? How do they expect you to do your jobs if they kick you out of your quarters?” “That’s what we wondered about too. We spoke with the imperial detachment at the city, you know. Figured if this was some kind of interservice rivalry, they could help straighten it out. But they got brushed off too! Apparently the new imperial talons have authority straight from the deliberative to oversee the proceedings, which means our role is just to keep the peace elsewhere and not poke our noses into it.” He snorted, angrily. Ramet was a good-natured man, soft-spoken and genial. The fact he was willing to make his discontent so clear spoke volumes about how deeply the new arrivals had stung his pride. “Fat chance of that. Just because we’re not proper military doesn’t mean we don’t have our pride. Captain Zem was of a mind to just stick it to them any way he could, and I, for once, could not agree more with him.” “My sympathies,” Li said, tucking his hands into his sleeves and shaking his head sadly. “It’s truly a sign of the times. Why even bother dedicating so much money to the restoration of the city if you can’t trust the people who live there? It makes no sense...” The wheels were turning in his head though. He’d been hoping to leverage his friendliness with the guard as a back up plan if he couldn’t get the papers stamped, but it sounded like that was a dead end. This whole endeavor might be a waste of time if the imperials had the area around the teahouse so thoroughly locked down. It meant he didn’t have an in, which was annoying, given the amount of time he’d spent rubbing elbows in the city. Plan ‘cobra in the privy’ sounded more appealing by the moment. “No, it doesn’t. It’s not as if the outlanders could properly isolate the theatre, anyway — they’ve got soldiers, but everywhere else, they’re understaffed. I served in the military once, Master Li. You’ve heard that an army marches on its stomach, right? It’s true, but it doesn’t cover even half of the whole story. An army marches on its stomach, but with its cooks, medics, and transporters supporting its every step. These people don’t have any of that. It won’t even take days before their discipline begins to slacken due to a lack of personnel, just you watch.” As he recounted the new arrival’s failings, Ramet’s expression darkened. “The only thing that pisses me off more than not being able to do my job is watching someone else do it poorly. Honestly, what are they thinking…?” Now that’s odd, and worrisome. Li didn’t know much about soldiers, his hometown of Dei Ajna was too remote to see much in the way of troops passing through. He’d have to ask Grace about it later. It was a possible in, though, if they needed cooks and medics… but only if they were willing to accept local assistance... which didn’t seem to be the case. “Hmm. Well let me ask you Ramet, since you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. The hospital is trying to set up a temporary aid station as near to the theatre as possible, to take care of any small injuries from fights, provide relief for those who’ve drunk too much, that sort of thing. Do our part to help keep the peace. But I’m not sure where the best place to put the tent would be, and we’ve only got a day to try and get the permit- which is why I’m here. Where would you want us stationed, if you were in charge?” “Hmm. Now that’s an interesting question.” Ramet stroked his beard, thoughtfully. “As I understand it, the plan is nominally to allow a crowd into the theatre, but keep them well away from the contestants. They’re important people, and the legionnaires don’t want them to face any risks. I’ve heard rumblings about replicating the games via spotters for the crowd, as a compromise for not being able to see anything happening on the elevated stage — if true, that’s likely to happen in the streets. Which means businesswomen will find ways to set up shop there, to cater to the crowds. Normal work’s going to be almost impossible...so if I was in charge, I’d look into taking over a notary’s place, or perhaps a bookmaker’s. Someone who’d be happy to accept a daily stipend and a long-awaited holiday instead of showing up to conduct some dwindling business while the tournament continues.” “You know I was thinking the very same thing, but the problem is that if I spend all day waiting in line, I won’t have time to do it, or… well, I’d have to cancel all my afternoon appointments. Normally I wouldn’t be too concerned but the Captain was due today and if I push his treatment to tomorrow, well…” Li frowned. “Let’s just say he’s going to have a painful evening, excruciating really, and I wouldn’t want you to have to deal with that.” He let the bait sit on the hook for a few seconds, letting his uncertainty show clearly as he pulled the paperwork he’d brought out of his pocket. “Neither do I.” Ramet shivered just imagining his superior’s temper flaring up again. “Not to mention he’d be unable to put his best face forward when dealing with the legionnaires, which we’ll need if we’re to have a chance at convincing them to let us do what we’re here to do.” He didn’t say anything for a few moments as he stared at Li, thinking about the matter deeply. Then, he let out a long sigh. “I suppose I could take care of it. It’d mean several more hours standing in the queue, but that’s nothing I’m not used to. There’s just one problem, Master Li...” “Oh?” “The dragons-damned line-boys! There’s no way I can get that permit stamped before closing hours without opening my coinpurse, and the little buggers’ asking price for a reasonable spot in the queue is two and a half dinars. Two and a half, can you believe it?!” He said, throwing his arms up in the air. “That’s most of my monthly pay! I’m sorry to demand this, Master Li, I truly am, but I can’t do this without having someone cover the expenses for me. Do you think you could find it in your heart to finance a poor guardsman in his endeavors? ” “It’s a price I was going to have to pay anyways, and saving me the time is doing me more of a favor than I deserve,” Li said, sighing. He handed Ramet the documents and fetched his coin purse. A risk, using his own funds now, but he was sure he could recover at least a portion from the cult… It was a shame about the cobra in the privy though. He’d been warming up to the idea of playing the heroic doctor in front of everyone. Still, this opportunity was too good to pass up. If he managed to find a shop that hadn’t already sold their space, that was. Two and a half dinars for an “if” sent a shiver up his spine, though if he couldn’t manage to find a place he might be able to get back in time to stop Ramet from spending them. He held out the money, ignoring the drop of sweat trickling down his brow. “Think of it this way, Ramet, at least you get to dodge the Captain until I’m through with him. Now I’d better go make your sacrifice count.” “Did you not wish to hear the other prices, then?” asked Fidelity, who had arrived just as Li had mentioned the possibility of the Captain’s excruciating evening and been standing completely motionless directly behind him, quite confused as to which plan Li had finally chosen. Li froze for a moment, took a shallow breath, and then turned to include her in the conversation. “Apologies, Ramet. My assistant here has been scouting the line-boys while we spoke. Perhaps she’s returned with better news than two and half dinars?” “Sadly not, although several of them appear stricken with Grey Lung. They might be persuaded to barter their places in this queue for a promise that they’ll be at the head of yours.” Fidelity inclined her head slightly to Ramet. “I am Ceto,” she said, using her mother’s forename. “I understand that you have troubles of your own?” “A fair amount of them, ma’am,” Ramet answered, nodding his head in acknowledgement. “Finding a decent location from which to operate while this tournament runs its course first amongst them, but it’s a busy time for a guardsman even beyond that. The city is abuzz with activity, and where there’s people, there’s crimes and misdeeds to be found. Assassination attempts, disappearances...and that’s not even taking the Goddess of Thieves and Whores’ little crime syndicate into account.” His nose wrinkled in disgust. “We’ll find a way through it, I suppose, as we always do. I just hope things don’t keep getting worse.” “The spirits are as they are, but that they should be corrected,” Fidelity said. It was a common Immaculate proverb, but the dogma insisted that it should be Dragon-Blooded performing the correction, while her tone suggested that she had someone else in mind for the job. “Let’s see if the children can be persuaded, then.” He smiled at Ramet apologetically as he put the dinars back in his wallet. “It would save my friend here from a second run through the queue, and my wallet from gathering moths until the next payday. We’ll be back if it doesn’t work out.” “I’ll be praying for your success then, Master Li. If anyone can convince these children to listen to reason, I’m sure you and Lady Ceto will be the ones to pull off the feat.” Clasping his hands together, Ramet gave the pair a bow. Then, he turned his attention back to the queue — which had, by some miracle, managed to start moving again. Perhaps the God of Civic Requests was smiling down upon them today. --- “No child being paid two and a half dinars a day for standing in line has Grey Lung,” Li said, once they were out of earshot of Ramet. “So they’re working for someone, and that person isn’t going to let them throw away that much money for medicine. Their lives probably aren’t worth that much to whoever is holding their leash.” He couldn’t keep the disgust out of his voice now that it was just the two of them. “Then we sever the leash,” Fidelity said matter-of-factly, “and let them decide the value of their own lives. First and foremost, however, we must remedy the illness before us.” After a momentary pause, she realized that had probably been more cryptic than she’d intended. “I mean that we should treat their Grey Lung first, even if it earns us no favors. If it does, we may have an inroad with one of Aurea’s devotees.” She let out a hiss to show her own disgust. “This reeks of her influence.” “On that subject you would know better than I,” Li shook his head. “I’m not against treating sick children regardless, but we’d need to bring them back to the hospital or my nurse’s clinic for the proper therapies. I should have some of the herbs on hand but it’s not a limitless supply…” “I will bring more from my own garden,” Fidelity said, “and purify the water for aspersion.” She had told Li of her hearthstone and its powers, and used it to assure a steady supply of clean water for the teahouse and clinic. “Once we have cured one or two, the rest will come in time, and we may bargain for your permit in a matter of hours rather than days.” “The rest?” Li blinked. “Fi- Ceto, how many do you think there are?” “Too many for a small clinic,” she said. “But not for a licensed medical tent with official support.” “We aren’t getting a medical tent,” Li said. “The dragons have control over the streets and they’ve pushed out everyone, even the local guard. That’s what I was talking to Ramet about. He suggested finding a shop nearby who’d be willing to rent the space, which was something I’d also considered… But there’s no way a shopkeeper would consent to hosting a temporary Grey Lung therapy clinic. The place would reek of rosemary and cinnamon for months.” “We could find one that already reeks of herbs, but I imagine that spice shops and teahouses will be doing brisk business,” Fidelity said. “Although...is that not strange, do you think? That they would evict the local guards?” “It is,” Li said, and proceeded to repeat what Ramet had told him about the situation. “...yet they permit merchants to remain,” she said. “That seems an egregious oversight, but then, nothing about this affair is sensible. Very well,” she sighed. “We may take up your friend on his offer. Unless you wish to go straight to cobras in the privy.” “Now hold on a moment, just because we can’t heal all the urchins in Falling Ashes tomorrow doesn’t mean we can’t make a deal with one today. It just has to be a transaction rather than an open invitation.” “They’re street urchins, Doctor Li. A transaction with one is an invitation for all,” Fidelity said. “I only meant to prepare us for that eventuality.” “You’re right, but when they do show up we’ll be better prepared, and we can plan to take care of them across the city from the Gateway match. I wouldn’t want to treat children so close to that nest of…” An almost imperceptible pause. “... hornets.” That actually got a little smile out of her. “Then let us make our preparations while we can. This queue isn’t getting any shorter.”
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Nov 16, 2020 03:54
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A Frank Exchange of Favors Scene: Founder’s Command, Foundation District It didn’t take much effort to spot the line-boys plying their trades across the building’s various queues, and finding one coughing loudly was barely even an extra ask. Catching one that wasn’t busy negotiating with another person, on the other hand, took a fair bit of effort — in spite of their role, they seemed rarely content with simply standing in place and moving with the line. Eventually, however, Fidelity and Li managed to spot a youth with sandy blond hair and a deep blue tunic who was busy coughing up a storm while waiting in line. As they approached he took an elaborate vow, barely ruined by another coughing fit at the end of it. “‘Ey, gaffs. Looking to do a, *koff, koff*, little bit o’ business today?” He said, as he straightened out, his tone genial and brisk. “Indeed we are,” said Li. “What would the going rate be today?” A negotiation had to start somewhere, and it was the seller’s privilege to say where. “For this here spot? Most days we’d be talking two ‘n’ a half dinars, but it’s promised to someone else already, a representative of one of the Old Lines, gaff. Squarin’ things with her would be a hassle, so it’d be…” The boy fell silent for a moment, counting wordlessly with the aid of his fingers. “...Three ‘n’ a quarter, yes sir. Three sharp if you pay right now so I can start working on it right away. What’s it gonna be?” “THREE AND-” Li bit his tongue, closed his eyes, and recited a short prayer to collect himself. “Ahem. Can I have your name, before we come to any agreements?” “Dutiful Nightingale, gaff, at your service for...” He stopped, interrupted by a nasty spasm that wracked his chest. “*...Koff, koff*, for whatever you might need. And yours? Wouldn’t want to have to call out to you by shouting for the man in the nice hat if anything comes up, you know. People might get jealous.” “I’m Doctor Li,” he said, smiling to show he appreciated the compliment. “And I’m sure you were well named at some point, my boy, but a nightingale should be able to sing, not croak all the time. Here…” He reached into the pocket inside of his robe and came out with a square of dark green cloth, stuffed with aromatic herbs. A face mask, his personal one for protecting himself from the ashfalls that caused Grey Lung. “This ought to help a bit. Just hold it against your mouth and breathe in a few times.” Nightingale eyed the mask warily. “If this is supposed to cover part of the fee, gaff, I gotta make clear I don’t—” “This is just so we can talk without interruption,” Li said, offering the mask once more. “You’ll give it back when we’re done. Alright?” “...Alright, why not. Just gimme a moment...” Gingerly, Dutiful Nightingale took the mask and placed it against his mouth. He coughed a couple times at first, but it wasn’t the same as the long, sharp coughing fits from before. With their shared expertises, both Li and Fidelity could see his chest, which had previously heaved noticeably with every breath, begin to relax. “...Bloomin’ ashes, gaff, you weren’t joking. Feels like someone took a stone off my chest.” Though his voice was muffled, Nightingale’s surprise was still clear in his tone. “What is this thing?” he asked, pinching the mask to emphasize his question. “Could really use one like it I think.” “It is an aromatherapy mask,” Fidelity said, insinuating herself into the negotiations. “The ashfall bears toxic essence that weakens the lungs. These herbs cleanse that essence.” It was a woeful oversimplification, but as much as the boy might understand. The slow, inner petrification that gave the condition its name was just one of nearly a dozen ways that it was killing him by inches. “In larger quantities, yes,” Li said. “The mask is intended to prevent the toxic essence from ever entering the body. Once inside, well…” He shook his head. “It will still provide some temporary relief, but it’s a bit like throwing a single bucket of water on a house fire. These herbs are, as you might imagine, very hard to get ahold of in the necessary amounts for a true cure. But I have some set aside this month... just enough for one.” “And that one could be yours truly. Is that what you mean?” Nightingale stared at the mask, then back at the two customers. His eyes were very pale blue, almost silvery, and constantly shifting back and forth, taking in new details. “Alright. Let’s say I’m interested for now, doc. What do you want for them? I know nothing’s for free. ‘Specially nothing as pricey and special as this.” “One dinar for the spot, to pay off the previous buyer, and the name of your employer,” Li said. Fidelity was right about paying them a visit, and he doubted it would be a pleasant one. “I could have sought someone who hadn’t been bought yet, but yours is the worst cough. It felt only fair to offer you the first chance.” “You should see my sisters back home if you think mine’s bad, doc. Compared to them, I got off lightly.” Nightingale took off the mask for a moment to stare at it in the palm of his hand. His youthful face looked thoughtful now. “They’d love this kind of thing. Do ‘em a world of good.” He grit his teeth. “I can’t take this, though. The boss has his rules. We never take bribes, and we never step out of line without his say-so. If I told you about his boss without permission, he’d rip my balls off and kick me out. I can’t afford that, gaff. No dice.” “A shame,” Fidelity said listlessly. “We had hoped to obtain a license to operate a clinic. With such a space, we could have provided far more treatment than a single, borrowed mask. The medicine is not difficult to produce, for a skilled physician, but the necessary ingredients and infirmaries have been seized by the state or hidden away by the black market. Tell me - does your boss suffer from Grey Lung?” @Thesaurasaurus, you rolled 1,3,3,5,6,7,7,8,9,10 for a total of 6 successes “You mean Mauro? Nah, not him. But he does know a bunch of us have it, and it pisses him off that we can’t buy a cure even though we’ve got money to spare.” Nightingale bit his lip. “Hnn...you know what? I can’t tell you anything, and I wouldn’t even if I could, but I can take you to see the boss. If he says we can do business, I’ll take you up on it.” Nightingale then brought two fingers to his mouth and whistled, startling the bystanders in line. It only took a couple moments for another line-boy to come running. “Hold me my spot for a minute,” he said, taking the new arrival’s shoulder and swapping places with him. “These guys need to see the boss. C’mon, gaffs,” he said, gesturing at Fidelity and Li as he took off at a brisk pace. “Follow me! Nightingale’s trail took Fidelity and Li back to the central atrium, to the surprise of no one, and then down the passageway that led to the Office of Taxes, Tributes and Tithes. What was more unexpected was him moving all the way past the front of the queue and taking a staircase up to the second floor of the Founder’s Command, then doubling back towards the center of the aisle before rapping his knuckles on a nondescript, unmarked door. “‘Ey! Mauro! It’s me, Gale! I brought visitors!” He called out, sotto voce. Moments later, a soft-spoken, charming voice answered him. “Don’t keep them waiting, then. Come in!” The office beyond the door looked like it belonged to an everyday bureaucrat, with its desk and shelves and a pair of uncomfortable, government-issue chairs, save that it had been completely ransacked of anything of value. The shelves were empty, and the only things that graced the desk were the pair of well-tailored boots lying on them. They belonged to a smiling youth with chocolate skin and a messy mop of white hair, who raised a hand in recognition as they came in. Nightingale cleared his throat. “Right then. Gaffs, this is Mauro Fra, captain of the line-boys brigade. Boss, these are Doctor Li and his companion. They wanted to sell me on a bribe of herbs to deal with Grey Lung disease, and said that if we gave them a hand, they could help us get our hands on a supply for everyone else and not just me. Figured you should know about this.” He shuffled in place a little, worried for the first time Fidelity and Li had seen. “...Did I do that right, boss?” “Like an imperial usher, Gale,” the young captain (no more than a few years older than Nightingale himself), replied, his smile widening to reveal a set of pearly white teeth uncommon in Falling Ashes. Magnanimously, he gestured at a corner of the room where a mattress lay. “Take a seat. I think you earned the right to witness this audience. You too, of course, Madam, Sir,” he said, gesturing at the government chairs before him. “Let’s discuss this comfortably. So, you’re aware that we get bountiful offers like these almost daily, I’m sure. What makes your proposition special?” “The fact that we can deliver on our promise, I suspect,” said Li. “My name is Fara Li, I’ve been serving as a doctor in Falling Ashes for several months now at both Beating Heart clinic and Starlight Relief Centre. If you haven’t heard of me you can have one of your men check my credentials. My companion is Ceto, a nurse assistant. We came here to get a permit for a temporary clinic, but the lines are… well, you know what the lines are.” He shook his head. “I simply don’t have the time to wait around today and when I noticed that young Nightingale and several of the other line-boys were suffering from Grey Lung, I made my offer.” Li stroked his beard thoughtfully, as though he were just now considering the situation fully. “As it stands now, I can promise a full cure for one, in exchange for a decent spot. It needn’t be his, as I understand someone else had laid claim to it, but something that will get us to the front desk in two hours or less. I realize that may seem a poor trade now, but seeing the plight of so many has stirred Ceto’s heart and she plans to open up a more permanent treatment site specifically for Grey Lung, which we might as well get stamped while we’re here.” He took a breath. Now for the actual pitch. “For your trouble, I will see to it that any of the line-boys-” he glanced to Gale “-or their family members, can jump to the front of the line and may receive treatment for Grey Lung at our new clinic at a discounted price. Are these terms amenable?” “Very much so, Doctor,” said Mauro, nodding in agreement. “Your connections to the Guard, however, not so much. Sikra Zem has complained (quite loudly, at that) about not receiving preferential treatment for his guardsmen when it comes to cutting in line for quite some time now. Is there a reason we should give one of his most trusted confidantes an in on our little operation? I’d hate to give him a chance to seize my boys’ earnings from their very hands under the guise of a security tax.” The young man’s smile never wavered as he laid out his suspicions. If anything, it widened, just a little bit. It was at that moment that Li realized just how tightly controlled his reactions were. He wasn’t simply enjoying himself, he was keeping his guard up, and very effectively. “If Sikra Zem hopes for his own men to receive treatment - preferential or otherwise - in the clinic, he will accept it as neutral ground,” Fidelity said assertively. “Naturally, these terms cut both ways - but I doubt that any of your wards are foolish enough to pick a Black Helm’s pocket.” “Pick pockets? Please, Miss Ceto,” Mauro said, raising his hands in mock offense. “We’re not thieves. That’s a job for people with small imaginations and a taste for danger. Our work is much more reputable.” “You may be misunderstanding the nature of my relationship with the good Captain,” Li said, with a smile just as controlled as Mauro’s. “It’s unwise to threaten a physician, and Zem knows better than to try it when I hold his men’s lives in my hands more often than not. Whatever your troubles with him are, they will not be exacerbated through me. This I can promise.” “Which means you are looking to cut a singular deal, not start a persistent partnership,” Mauro reasoned. “We get you a premium spot in the queue, you set up your clinic, and we receive preferential treatment there -- and future collaborations will have to be negotiated on a case by case basis. Correct?” “Yes, though I would like to come straight to you if such a case were to arise, since we’re already acquainted.” Li said. “A reasonable request. I wouldn’t want to waste my time going through the motions if I were in your shoes either. Very well then. There’s a chance you could renege on this deal, but I think it’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Taking his boots off the desk, the captain of the line-boys stood up. “Gale, Tithus is still holding that spot in the queue near the front, isn’t it?” “Sure is, boss. I’ll go talk with him right away.” Without another word, Nightingale bolted for the door, so quickly it was hard to believe he’d been there at all. “Let’s shake on it then, Doctor, Miss. To a deal well-made, and perhaps more to come.” And with that, he offered Li and Fidelity his hands. Li offered his in return for a firm and satisfied shake. Mauro probably thought he was getting the better end of this deal, and in many ways he was, but for healers who were trying to stamp out an illness, willing patients who would be able to help them trace the source of it were invaluable. And while he would normally have concerns about costs, Fidelity seemed confident in her medicine supply. It was truly a mutually beneficial arrangement. Fidelity shook on it as well, her skin smooth and dry, her grip cold and hard as stone. “To Starlit Fields.” “The city that once was?” Mauro tilted his head slightly. “An interesting toast. I never got to see it. All we’ve got now is the ashes, and all the illnesses they bring.” He sighed dramatically. “Ah well. It is what it is. Will that be all then?” “Almost,” Li said, producing a quill from somewhere in his robes. “Can I borrow your desk for a moment? Wouldn’t want the clinic requisition to get rejected based on something as trivial as bad penmanship if I have to do it standing in the queue.” “Of course, Doctor,” Mauro said, stepping aside with a grand bow. “We all know full-well what sticklers bureaucrats can be. Bypassing their rules is, after all, what my line-boys are here for.”
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Nov 16, 2020 06:49
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Come Into My Parlour... Scene: The Candlemakers’ Guild, The Heart of Falling Ashes The Candlemakers’ guild was tainted neutral ground. A large, squat building with three floors that could’ve passed for a transplant from the Storehouses, the perfumed headquarters nominally swore allegiance to no merchant prince, and its members were free to sell their services to whoever they wished. But it was Mu Min Cho’s home away from home, and that meant those in the know most often opted to treat it as his territory. Their influence and economic investments would be safer that way. The Cult’s intelligence was confirmed as Sun and Boulder approached the building -- a scale of Realm Legionnaires conducted patrols all around it, ensuring its safety. This was not done for the Grandmaster Spider’s benefit, though he had pulled strings to ensure this detachment was stationed permanently within his turf -- in Falling Ashes, man-made light was precious, and all the more ever since the Candlemakers’ ashling candles had taken the city’s markets by storm. It was a revolutionary invention that consumed ashes to emit fire, thus providing a torch that would not be extinguished within moments of stepping outside one’s home...and great riches to those in charge of their circulation. Such was its value, that neutral forces had taken to overseeing the building’s protection, to curtail any attempts at blackmail, espionage or industrial sabotage. The man who had most benefited from this invention was inside the building now, most likely preparing his next move… Wandering Sun wasn’t much for stealth or disguise, but he wasn’t really a known figure in the city so it hardly mattered if he happened to wander near the Candlemaker’s guild. Of course, that meant he couldn’t stick around, since there wasn’t much business he’d be able to justify his presence with. Still, he traced a slightly extended path past the front and sides of the guild, and kept his eyes peeled for anything. He knew Boulder would have far more access than him with his abilities, but he could at least keep a literally grounded perspective from the outside. Boulder flew back to the Candlemakers’ Guild from Flowers Amidst the Ashes, all manner of useful things in and attached to a wicker backpack that had vanished when the Lunar assumed his raiton form. He had, alas, left his armor behind under his bunk, but a raiton encased in a blood-soaked spiked moonsilver shell with skulls dangling off of it seemed like it would make it difficult to blend in with the city’s other scavengers. The innocent raiton circled above the Guild to assess for any immediate threats or curiosities and establish a baseline against which he might monitor behavior over time. Boulder rolls 5 Per + 3 Aware + 4 Exc (4m peri) + 2 Enhanced Senses + 2 Stunt = 16 dice. 10 sux, plus one from Ever-Wary Fox Technique in certain circumstances It only took a few minutes for Boulder to calibrate his expectations for what the daily routine at the Candlemakers' Guild was like. From his vantaged viewpoint, he determined: -That the important work was conducted away from the building's windows. Through them, he saw accountants working on the Guild's ledgers, cooks preparing food for the Guild's artisans, and trainees comparing their fledgling attempts with the light of the sun, but no master candlemakers. -That there were more legionnaires within the Guild itself, keeping watch for intruders. Most seemed rather bored, but even so, they manned their posts and conducted their patrols diligently all the same, checking up on every single room at irregular intervals. A startlingly complete security detail for a simple merchant guild. -That most of the doors seemed to be locked, as he heard the sound of locks turning before many of them opened, only for them to snap shut once again soon after. -And lastly, though no less importantly, that something strange was occurring at the exact centre of the Guild. It was only by chance that he saw it, as there was a hole in the roof, through which a bright orange light leaked through. Almost blindingly bright, in fact, in spite of flickering in and out of existence... It was difficult to suss more details out from without. To learn more, he would have to find a way into the building, ideally without attracting attention. Boulder flew closer to the roof and then curved away. He had seen tiny glittering orange stones between certain brick sets here and there and also noted the absence of birds on the Guildhouse roof, despite an abundance of birds on nearby roofs. Landing on the roof might not kill him, but it certainly seemed suitably warded to keep all the normal birds well away. The Lunar found Wandering Sun and signalled him to take up the prearranged loitering spot a little way away from the Guildhouse. From there, he flew high enough above the massive building that he had a decent change of seeing anyone coming and going from any entrance and circled. He dove down from time to time, pretending to have spotted some dead tidbit below or a rival raiton to squawk at, but then returned to his vigil. An hour passed as Boulder and Sun continued their vigil, seeing no changes. The legionnaires continued their patrols, couriers moved in and out of the Guild with their blessing, and the bright orange lights lit up the insides of the guildhouse once in a while...and then Boulder heard a strange noise. It was an explosion, but so very subdued it was as if it was coming from underground through multiple yards of stone and dirt — a kind of sound he wouldn’t have been able to place, had he not listened to exactly that kind of noise when an explosion rocked the Flower’s laboratory, once upon a time. The orange stones glittered in the sunlight, and he could have sworn they shone a little bit brighter now than before. Boulder reacted instantly to the change in the stones, diving as close as he could safely get to the roof to detect any faint hint of magical resonance before it slipped away. Stunting to include Wits in Charm dice cap. Rolling Per 5 + Occult 3 + 7m personal for 7 Exc dice + 3m peripheral for Penumbra Witch Mastery for 3 dice plus reroll 1’s until they fail to appear + 2 from stunt = 18 dice + 1 WP for autosux: @Bouquet, you rolled 1,2,2,2,5,5,6,7,7,7,7,8,8,8,9,9,10,10 for a total of 13 successes. @Bouquet, you rolled 1 for a total of 0 successes. @Bouquet, you rolled 10 for a total of 2 successes 16 success total The moment Boulder got close enough to the roof, the nature of the orange stones made itself apparent. A wave of hellish heat slammed into him, as if he'd just dived inside a building on fire. The air itself quivered and wavered, begging for mercy...and yet, the roof's bricks did not seem to be affected at all. Clearly something was containing the heat, dispersing it in a very precise and controlled fashion, and there was only one thing that could be responsible for that. What his natural senses suggested, his mind confirmed: though faint from containment, the wisps of fire-aspected essence were unmistakable. A tremendous discharge of power had just occurred below, and it was likely the strange lights from earlier were connected to it -- smaller releases, possibly. The Candlemakers' Guild was experimenting with powerful forces, underneath everyone else's noses, and with full military backing, no less. Curious… --- At the same time, Sun’s surveillance was suddenly interrupted by a deep, instinctual feeling in the pit of his stomach. He was being watched...no, sized up, by a skillful eye. Someone perfectly capable and willing to do violence, if the need arose. His eyes scanned the area, but he didn’t see anyone who fit that bill, as the current of people traveling through the street was too thick, until the crowds parted for a moment. In that instant, he saw the empty alley opposite to his spot. Strewn with debris and trash, it was completely unremarkable, save for the deep, deep shadows that enveloped it, more fitting for a dreary winter night than the hot Ascending Fire day they were dealing with. In that unnatural darkness, he saw a pair of deep blue eyes, staring intently at him. Then, the crowds thickened once again, and he saw no one once again, though the feeling of being observed lingered nonetheless. Sun felt a prickle at the back of his neck, and knew he was being watched by someone skilled. He wasn’t much of a spy, and a fairly average scout, but there was a certain transcendent warrior’s knowledge that told him he was being tailed. Still, he tried not to give any indication he realized he was being followed. Instead, he wandered into a nearby open(ish) air market, seemingly on a whim. He made his way through casually, but he stopped at a stall where an old seamstress sold lengths of fabric and bought a ribbon in a rather lovely shade of green. He whimsically wrapped it around his arm and continued onward - he’d been a little skeptical when Boulder had laid out his system of signals, but it was clearly paying off now. Green fabric around left arm meant ‘I’m being followed’, and hopefully next time Boulder saw him he’d take the warning. He kept walking, heading for a quieter part of the city, figuring his tail would stand out more, both to him and Boulder. Plus, if it did come to violence, they would alert fewer people. As he ventured into the Heart’s side streets, the crowds disappeared, giving way to stray passersby and then to empty silence. All around Sun, tall buildings surrounded him, casting long shadows, serving as a wall to isolate him from the rest of the world. It was an open space, yet as secluded as a private garden. Thus, it came as no surprise when a dagger wrought of blackened steel, embedded itself deeply in the ground before him. Attached to it was a pierced piece of parchment, upon which a few lines in fine cursive were inscribed. quote:Strength of body and soul are great gifts, to be used diligently and cleverly. Why, then, does the sword grow dull in its sheath? Who do you wish you were, and why have you not become him yet? Beneath them, there was a black circle, so finely burnt into the parchment that from a distance it appeared exquisitely inked. Wandering Sun had his own knife halfway drawn when he saw the movement out of the corner of his eye, though he stopped when it embedded itself into the ground. He wasn’t entirely sure if he would’ve been fast enough to block it if the attack had been in earnest. He read the note and tucked it away into his pocket, then hefted the knife itself to see if there were any clues to be had there. -- Boulder banked around and circled the Guildhouse for a few minutes, thinking furiously. Unfortunately, he came to no firm conclusions and no direct connections to the looming gateway tournament that was the primary mission, so he resumed his intermittent, random movements that happened to take him in a circle every ten to fifteen minutes. When the Lunar arrived at the location he expected Wandering Sun to be, the Solar was absent. Boulder didn’t panic, he simply went into a spiraling search pattern as previously agreed. When he found Wandering Sun, the Dawn caste had just plucked a dagger of blackened steel from the ground. The Lunar gave the raiton calls that indicated he was present and aware of Wandering Sun’s message but would remain hidden for now. Wandering Sun instinctively looked to the sky, but didn’t see the raiton. Still, he knew Boulder had to be close. He took the knife and turned it over in his hands, and experimentally tossed it into the air a few times to get a sense of the balance. His knowledge of weapons was admittedly more on the…practical side, but you could definitely pick up some useful stuff from that. Judging by a cursory inspection and the weight distribution, this was definitely a weapon intended to be thrown. It would take an excellent knife-fighter to utilize it properly in close combat. The steel flakes falling off from the knife’s blade were quite unusual, however, not seeming to serve any specific purpose he could recognize, particularly as the craftsmanship did not seem to be shoddy in the slightest. Most likely it had been crafted to the user’s specifications, to serve a certain purpose. With that done, he considered next steps. He couldn’t be sure he wasn’t still being watched, so a meeting with Boulder was out. He had to communicate his intent without giving too much away. He took the note out again, along with a piece of charcoal he used for note-taking or marking objects. He scrawled ”please return” on the note, and then used the blackened knife to pin the note back into the ground, making sure it was visible from the sky and that he made a bit of noise while doing so. Then he took off towards the rendezvous point at a bit of a jog. If someone was still watching him, hopefully they would be stuck trailing after him instead of waiting around to see a bird steal a letter. Boulder inspected the piece of paper from his perch. He noted the black circle with curiosity and took a brief moment to see if it sparked any ideas. His knowledge of written communication and the mechanics of writing suggested that the black circle was a full moon. The way the burn wasn't totally uniform (the circle was filled in first, then blackened) confirms as much. Had the writer wanted to represent something else, the penmanship would have been different, to subconsciously push forward another connection. Boulder cursed silently. If an unknown Lunar was here and attempting to subvert Shining Ones, his job had just gotten a lot harder. Boulder flew in a wide circle around the warehouse and landed in an empty alleyway and shifted into the form of a mangy looking gray alley cat. He slinked toward the warehouse warily. It seemed dangerous to attempt to join Wandering Sun directly, but if he was close enough to hear any fighting erupt, that might make the difference between a good and bad outcome.
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Nov 16, 2020 07:06
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Dangling by a Thread Scene: The Tethers, Storehouses District When Starlit Fields blossomed from a small mining outpost to a bustling city, the question of civic infrastructure naturally came up. Where would new settlers be hosted? How would they be organized so they could perform their duties efficiently? The ruling aristocracy’s choice was simultaneously ruthlessly pragmatic and surprisingly non-obvious: the people would live with the goods they were supposed to set up for transportation. Consequently, the massive warehouses where Starlit Fields’ exports were stored were subject to a hasty redesign, and a system of aerial walkways and sleeping rooms constructed near their ceilings. The end result was a densely populated aerial commune, which a solid quarter of the city’s people called home. Over time, it expanded, first downward, conquering the empty space that separated the skyhomes from the ground, then horizontal, creating bridges that connected each storehouse to each other. The Tethers was one of the warehouses which comprised the commune, so named for the multicoloured ropes that dangled from the bottom of the skyhomes, used by its people to navigate its perpetually packed ground floor. Upon entering the warehouse, Sun immediately picked up on a light scent of jasmine that seemed to pervade the ground floor. As he looked for its source, he caught sight of a familiar symbol: a full black circle, burnt onto the side of a massive crate, easily thrice his height and many times wider. There was enough space to squeeze between it and its neighbor comfortably, should he choose to do so...though it led to a turn with a blind angle, something his warrior instincts cautioned could be used to set up a nasty trap. Sun wondered if the diplomatic thing to do was to walk around the corner with weapons sheathed, but ultimately decided that was foolish. With all the mystical symbolism and whatnot involved here, he didn’t know whether the mysterious letter writer knew he was a Shining One or not. But he’d been invited here via thrown dagger and sent to a seemingly empty warehouse. To not be visibly on his guard would be incredibly foolish. As he approached the blind turn, his hand drifted down to his dagger and closed around the handle. The blade wasn’t unsheathed, but it was in his hand and effectively at the ready. He took a moment to settle himself, and stepped into the blind angle. He was calm, directing his gaze to maximize his peripheral vision, just in case a sudden strike came. Thankfully, no unseen assailants took their chance to strike at him as he stepped into their line of sight. Instead, Sun encountered another burnt sigil. More signals to follow, deeper and deeper into a twisting maze of containers. The world seemed to quiet down as he explored the labyrinth, muffled by the dozens of walls all around him. Whoever had written the letter clearly wanted to speak with him in absolute privacy. By the time the tiny, claustrophobic passageways widened into a larger clearing, the world was all but still. The first thing Sun noticed as he came in was the sword. Wrought of the same blackened, flaking steel as the knife had been, it rested at the center of the room, establishing a clear divide between its two halves. All around it, the warehouse’s stone floor had been blackened so deeply, it almost appeared to be coal. All this, he caught in an instant. What lay beyond the blade was far more important.  Standing on the far end of the room, there was a woman, wearing the most extravagant dress he had ever seen. Its tip rested comfortably against the floor, and when she shifted slightly to take in the sound of his footsteps, the way the dress shifted in response revealed weaving so fine, it seemed almost like a second skin. He could not see her face immediately; The black veil she wore concealed her completely. When she finally turned around, it hid her eyes, even as he caught a glimpse of skin as pale as porcelain, and raven hair that went past her shoulders with ease. What it could not conceal, however, was her smile as she took him in. It was serene and fleeting. Just as her dress did, it revealed something of her, while concealing almost everything else. “Welcome, warrior. We finally meet face to face,” she said, quietly. “I’m surprised to see you chose to accept my invitation. Did curiosity get the better of you? Or did you come here expecting to find a monster for you to slay?.” Whatever Sun had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t a pale woman in a black dress with an ashen sword. Any two of those things, maybe, but not all three. Still, she wasn’t actually holding the sword, so he carefully released his own knife handle and spread his hands to show he was unarmed. “Curiosity, I think. Was it a job offer or something?” Sun wasn’t much for concealed intent and veiled meanings. On Rook’s advice, when he was trying to appear to be something he wasn’t, he tried to keep his words short and as close to the truth as possible. “A job offer?” She repeated, tilting her head quizzically. “No, nothing of the sort. The same reason that brought you here is what drove me to step out of the shadows. Ever since you slew Brother Tobruk, you’ve been a little less yourself than in the moments before your conflict. While your comrades celebrated, your shoulders slumped, and it left me wondering: you chose to fight and survived, and yet, you treated the battle as a loss. I would like to understand why you didn’t bury your ghosts with the bodies of your fallen brethren.” Wandering Sun didn’t recognize the name, but it seemed oddly familiar to him...and then it came to him, a flash of memory from a time he wished he could forget but refused to allow himself. One of the Immaculate Monks he’d fought had called that name, just before that Dragonblooded had properly joined the fight, though he hadn’t made the connection before now. Of course, the fact that this complete stranger also knew that name, and his reaction to the man’s killing was its own set of problems. His hand returned to the knife’s handle. “Who are you?” His voice sounded a little shaken, but his body moved with practiced smoothness. He looked at the woman once more, this time with far more focus. He’d had occasion to spar with many warriors while training, in dozens of styles. He’d sized up his foes beforehand each time, looking for their strengths and potential weaknesses. But Sun wasn’t looking at her like he had the others; it was a look that he’d given few others, mainly the other Shining Ones that Lin Zhen had gauged sufficiently skilled to have serious sparring matches with him. His gaze betrayed an active question - ‘if it came down to it, how would I kill this person?’ He wasn’t attacking, not yet. But the atmosphere made it clear that was very much a possibility. His highest duty was to protect the secrets of the Illuminated. “I am a wandering knight, sent to this world to cleanse it of all its evils...” The words came out with the singsong repetition of a mantra, yet laced with such mockery no one could have thought she believed in them sincerely. “...But that isn’t what you wish to know, is it? Call me Black Moon. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Wandering Sun, warrior of light. Before we continue, though, please, make yourself at ease. I mean you no harm.” She raised her hands up, splaying them wide open so he could see there was nothing in them before clenching her fists once again — and then, Sun heard six cascading tink sounds, as more blackened knives landed all around the edge of the burnt circle surrounding the sword. A less trained eye would have failed to see her move at all. As is, he had managed to see her hands blur as she withdrew them from her sleeves and tossed them out, with a tremendous economy of motion and dazzling speed. “These are my weapons. You can take them to disarm me, if that is your wish.” Wandering Sun made no move to approach the knives or the sword. He could absolutely be deadly at this distance, so there was no reason to assume this newcomer was not either. “I think it would be best if we both stay where we are. I can hear you just fine.” Ironically, as the tension ratcheted up, he was finding an inner sort of calm. They were dancing on the edge of violence, and that at least was a situation he understood. “Well met, Black Moon. Since you brought me here, I imagine there’s something you want?” Wandering Sun had very much noticed she’d referred to him as a ‘warrior of light’, but since he didn’t trust himself to convincingly lie or make up some sort of denial, he hoped simply ignoring and moving past it might work. She nodded. “I wish to hear your answer to my question. Why does a man who fights and kills to protect those he loves and then survives to tell the tale bear regrets? Why did you look so torn on that day?” “I am a warrior, not a monster. I don’t relish killing those who are just doing their jobs.” Wandering Sun forced himself to relax - the more he focused on Black Moon specifically, the more likely he’d miss a crucial detail. “Why do you care about my regrets? And why does a dark Moon know the name of a monk?” “You remind me very much of him. So brave and ready to fight to protect what he believed in, yet unwilling to shed blood unless strictly necessary.” Though the veil covering her eyes made it difficult to tell what she was thinking, Black Moon’s expression had become downcast. “He used to sing songs for the fallen, you know. He said it helped pacify their spirits, and sped them along on their trip to the Lethe and their next life.” She shook her head, slowly. “He could have been your friend. I like to think that might have been the case, at least. But you believed in different causes, and that set you on a collision course from which neither of you could escape. To stand down would have meant ceasing to be yourselves. It would have meant the death of your souls if not your bodies.” She raised her head, and Sun could feel the weight of her gaze upon him. “You still stand so ready. To strike, to fight, to kill...would you kill me too, if you thought I was a threat to that cause you so dearly believed in? Right here, right now?” “Is that an offer?” Sun could tell there was more going on here than there was on the surface - Black Moon knew too much - about the monk, about himself, and yet if she were with the Immaculates, he didn’t know why she was talking to him. “I would, yes, if I thought I had to. And from the way you throw those knives, I know you would too.” “No, I would not,” she replied, with surprising firmness. “Tobruk would have done that, but Tobruk is dead and I am here. My cause demands you die, and yet, I will not kill you. Do not presume all courses are as set in stone as yours, Shining One. Some of us would rather unmake ourselves to become other, better persons than remain true to our regrets.” With that, she turned her back on him. Everything was as it had been when he’d come in -- everything, except for the knives surrounding the sword, and the coiled-up tension in her figure. In an instant, she would be gone. Wandering Sun felt like he should strike her, should put Black Moon down and be done with this. But while he was willing to kill for his cause, it was far too ambiguous now. He didn’t know who she was, why she confronted him. She clearly knew Tobruk, but if she was truly after revenge, she could have attacked, she could have warned the Realm, she could have used her knowledge and her weapons to inflict harm on the people he cared about a hundred different ways. Sun had struck down Tobruk and his companions in open battle because they were a clear and immediate danger. He couldn’t put a knife in someone’s back on suspicion. At least, that thought was what caused him to hesitate enough for her to vanish. As she disappeared, he tried to make sense of it all. He’d been watching her face when he’d talked about Tobruk, had she let something slip without him noticing? Over the course of their conversation, Black Moon had done well to keep her emotions under control. Even so, her involuntary reflexes had betrayed her, albeit for fleeting moments. She’d been sorrowful when talking about the lost Immaculate, but not furious, in spite of speaking with his killer. She seemed to have mourned him well, enough to look at the past without her judgement becoming clouded. Her guard had only been lowered for a moment, when Sun had dared compare himself to her. That, and her persistent remarks about not remaining tied to one’s regrets suggested some sort of reflection, an attempt to understand a complex dilemma through him..Judging by how much she knew about him, she could have done this at any time. Something must have forced her to act now, then. But what could drive someone like her to rash action…? Something thudded onto a crate near where Sun was standing. A moment of scrabbling later, and a gray cat leapt down from the crate to Sun’s side, once again landing heavily. Boulder stood, shifting into his humanoid form as he did. “Interesting,” said the Lunar. Wandering Sun was snapped out of his reverie by the cat’s entrance, though it transformed back into Boulder before he could wonder if it was friend or foe. “I’m glad you were here to back me up. But that woman leaves me with more questions than answers.” He wondered if he would live to regret not attacking her. “I only arrived to hear her departing remarks. What else did she say?” asked Boulder. Wandering Sun laid out the conversation in as much detail as he could remember, including his thoughts about her motives. “There’s too much here that I’m not seeing. But I have a feeling this won’t be the last we see of her.” He looked obviously troubled, still unsure if he’d made the right decision in letting her get away. Boulder placed a hand on Wandering Sun’s shoulder and looked to where the woman had left. “The possibility of a friend is better than the certainty of a dead or vengeful enemy. Let us walk, I have seen interesting things as well…”
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Nov 16, 2020 07:09
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Internal Affairs Scene: High Hopes Clinic, Storehouses District Black Moon’s departure left Wandering Sun with more questions than answers. Disregarding her interest in him, their brief conversation had made something abundantly clear: she was onto the Cult’s true nature, and that of the Shining Ones. That meant somehow, somewhere, their security had been compromised. An investigation was in order, and there was time before the city’s gathering spots for hired thugs opened. The High Hopes outreach clinic, situated within the Storehouses themselves, made for a good starting point for his inquiry. The first thing Sun noticed upon arriving at the clinic was the smell. The air was thick with the smell of spices, which completely masked the usual odors of a medical facility. Coupled with the uncharacteristic bustle of chatter and the muscular men going back and forth carrying large crates, it painted a picture of a location where work was all but impossible. Wandering Sun picked his way through the crowds and made his way into the clinic, squeezing past a large man with a large crate going in the other direction. He was recognized by most of the cultists he passed by, though obviously they couldn’t treat him any differently here in public areas. He had a few short and vague chats with receptionists and nurses, until finally he was shuffled into a nearby empty office. Soon, he was joined by a man he recognized, but didn’t know too well. Honorable Garnet was the doctor nominally in charge here - as far as Sun knew, he was a competent doctor (if nothing else, Li would not allow an incompetent one out in the field), but he was more of an organizer than anything else. The clinic was there to gather information as much as treat people, and while Garnet didn’t do much spying himself, it was his sigil on all the compiled reports that made their way back to them. Sun gave Garnet a careful bow - despite having grown up in the Cult, he was one of the more formal Shining Ones when it came to relating to the mortal members. Formality was distancing, but it also helped both sides of the conversation avoid accidental offense. “Good tidings, Doctor. Things seem to be a little busy here today.” “Very much so, glorious one,” said Garnet as he clasped his hands together and bowed deeply at the waist. “It’s a most unusual day at High Hopes. We are trading the teamsters’ guild a favor for a favor. Part of me balks at the thought of canceling our operations, even for a short while, but the benefits seem well worth the headaches they are causing us at the moment. What brings you here today, if I may ask?” Wandering Sun considered how much he should disclose - obviously Garnet was trustworthy, but repeated lectures about secrecy from his mentors and fellow Shining Ones told him that compartmentalizing information was important. Ultimately, though, organizers like Garnet needed something to do their jobs properly. “I’m checking in to see if you’ve noticed anything unusual going on. The chaos in the city, we believe people will be taking advantage of it. And I worry that we’ve caught the eye of some of those people.” Garnet pursed his lips, nervously. “You mean...you believe we are compromised?” Wandering Sun gave him a serious look, calm but still concerned. “It’s a possibility, but we don’t think it was by the Realm. Whoever it is has been sitting on the information for a fair length of time, the only thing that’s changed is now we know they know. I simply came to check if you’ve noticed anything unusual over the past few days. Perhaps related to the tournament, perhaps not.” “Heavens be praised.” The relief in Garnet’s sigh was palpable. “For a moment, I worried we would have to scuttle the entire clinic and scatter our people to the winds. Allow me a moment to think about this, great one, if it’s not too much to ask.” He began pacing around the room, his hands behind his back. “A few of my nurses have been unruly as of late. Youthful Wing has been sneaking out of the clinic late at night, but I am certain that the dunderhead is simply visiting a local girl he has fallen for. I believe he hopes to convert her to the faith before introducing her to us. Who else...ah, there is Blossom of Daybreak, too. She has been remarkably active about performing intelligence work as of late, much more so than in the past. Something must have lit a fire in her; In fact, I was considering suggesting she be considered for a position of greater responsibility, such is the difference from the time when she used to take up every excuse she could to slack off, months ago. If she can sustain this level of enthusiasm and discipline, I believe she could become a great asset to your holiest efforts, great one.” For a moment, Garnet paused his pacing, as he ran through a quick mental checklist to see if he had forgotten anything else. At last, he spoke up. “There is also the matter of the young Wen Kao. He has been nervous and on edge for the last few days, and no one has been able to convince him to speak up about what ails him. I asked one of the novices to tail him when he went out, just in case. He’s been visiting a small office at the edge of the district, where it meets up with the Gem Road. What he does there, I cannot say, but it doesn’t seem to do any good for his mental state. Perhaps being addressed directly by one of the Shining Ones could help coax the truth out of him.” He stroked his chin, thoughtfully. “I believe that is everything of note, great one. Was any of this information of any use?” Wandering Sun nodded, clearly still absorbing the information. “Yes, it was very useful - your service is greatly valued. I will look into some of these leads when I have time.” He considered what he would need to do next, when he remembered the busy scene on the way in. “Before I forget, you mentioned trading a favor for a favor with the teamster’s guild? May I ask what the favors are?” “Of course, glorious one. Recently, the Immaculate Order requisitioned one of the Storehouses for their private use, and requested all its contents be removed as soon as possible. The teamsters have been scrambling to find any free space to put the warehouse’s contents in, and as it so happened, we’ve been going through something of a dry spell of visitors as of late. As such, I thought it prudent to offer them the clinic as a temporary storage space, in exchange for their cooperation with transporting some of our more sensitive chemical shipments...as well as a place within their guild for a ‘nephew’ of mine.” A sly smile spread across Garnet’s face. “The latter request was something of a mask for the former, but few embody the toil and trouble that the people of this world face daily better than the teamsters. I figured some of them might be receptive to our teachings, if only they were put into a position where they might hear of them.” “That is an excellent idea, honored sir.” Wandering Sun gave him a polite bow once more, but there was clearly warmth in it as well. “If there are no other matters you feel should be brought to my attention, I should continue my duties. But you have been of great help all of us.” “None that come to mind, glorious one. I will make sure to keep you informed of the teamsters’ reception to our teachings,” said Garnet, bowing back in turn. “Should they prove receptive, I can scarcely think of a better representative of the Shining Ones to fully win them over to our cause than you. ” Wandering Sun could certainly think of several Shining Ones who would make better representatives to win over a crowd of workers, but he also knew that he had to put forth the face of a confident destined hero and avoid public self-deprecation. “Well, we all serve where we are able. But I am glad to leave this matter in good hands.” “Thank you for the vote of confidence, glorious one. I will not let you down. May the heavens guide you on your trials, now and always.”
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Nov 16, 2020 07:10
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The Lady and the Augur Scene: Audran’s Antiques, Fortune’s Junction Audran’s Antiques was a bit of an odd duck. Tucked inside an alleyway at the very edge of the Heart district, where it gave way to both the Gem Road and the Storehouses, it counted as one of the town’s ‘reputable’ businesses, but only just. The lighting inside was dimmed, as if the owner were unwilling to broadcast his prosperity, and littered with knick knacks and curios brought from the four corners of the Blessed Isle, ready to be sold at a reasonable price after an utterly unreasonable amount of haggling. “Welcome to Audran’s Antiques, how can I help—” The words of the servant boy manning the counter died in his throat as he realized who the two visitors who had just stepped inside were. “W-welcome inside sirs, I mean, great ones,” he began, stammering over his words as he bowed deeply to them, his eyes filled with admiration, barely-restrained curiosity, and possibly even some fear of disappointing his visitors. “M-masters Jacek is in the backroom, do you need me to announce you before you come in? Or, pray to you, or anything else?” The last part was added quickly, and more than a little fearfully. Rook didn’t recognize his face. He must be very new, a recent addition to the Cult. Rook’s jaw clenched, but he kept his tone even. “No need. Just keep tending to your duties, and if anyone comes in asking for Master Jacek before we are done speaking to him, tell them he will be back shortly.” He sympathized with the boy- it hadn’t been all that long ago that he might have been in his place- but he was still unused to the attention his new status conferred. There was no time to waste, though. He swept past the back curtain, trying to ignore the feeling of eyes digging into his back. “Sorry to disturb you, Preem. Do you have a moment?” “Well! I was wondering when you’d come around, boy. It’s been some time.” The man speaking was seated behind a small desk, surrounded by piles of parchments so massive the top of his head could barely be seen through them. Delicately, a gloved hand slipped between the towers and pushed one aside, revealing a face lined with age, which bore a small, satisfied smile. “Let’s see now. Something must have brought you and your foreign companion, whose acquaintance I’m pleased to make...here, no doubt. Let me guess: work, the completion of which requires information that only I can provide. What is it that you’re looking for? I’m afraid I’m fresh out of prophecies today, unfortunately, if that’s what you’re after.” "We'll not keep you for too long, sir." Grace piped in. He noticed the stacks of paper and did not envy whatever kind of work the man had to be wrapped into. "We're looking into two things, Nepenthe and one Ilscha Karina. Our trail begins there." “Ah, yes, that one,” Jacek replied, his mouth twisting into a frown. “A confidante of the City’s greatest philanthropist, and a noted benefactor of the poor and needy. Also a fallible human being, just like the rest of us...present company excluded, of course. Give me a moment to remember where I put her information...” Leaning forward, the augur tented his fingers before his face, in a gesture Rook had seen many times before. The man who’d raised him was putting the vast reservoir of information within his head in order, seeking a specific, singular datum relevant to the matter at hand. “Here.” His hand darted out, seizing a scroll from the middle of the pile to his right. It wavered unsteadily, threatening to collapse, but his other hand grasped the top of the pile and pressed down, stabilizing it for a few moments until it could stay standing on its own once again. Graciously, he offered them the prize he’d managed to retrieve from the great beast. “That’s one matter taken care of. You’ll have to be more specific about the other, I’m afraid. I could fill several shelves with the information we have on the Nepenthe. As a matter of fact, I’ve done so already, even.” Rook cleared his throat. “Our focus for now is on Dame Ilscha, sir, and tracing connections around her. I assume- and correct me if I am wrong- that her known personal connections will be mostly covered in her individual file, but I seem to recall that she has specific ties to Wordweaver’s Alley, as well? That seems like a good place to start.” “It’d be a good place to start when looking into just about anyone, boy,” Jacek said, accentuating his words with a quick nod. “Business might flow through the Heart, but good information always arrives at the Alley eventually. You’ll want to look for Lizeh, the rumormonger. Wide dame, cheerful, loves the color green...if anyone might have something to add to the file’s details, it’ll be her. And if you think there’s any reason to doubt her information, seek out Yunru. He hates her so deeply he’ll take any chance to ruin her reputation by proving she deals in falsified information. Just be careful not to find yourself dragged into one of their little power games, hmm?” "Does this happen often there? The… misinformation attempts?" Grace piped in. “Misinformation yes, attempts, no.” Jacek extended his hand outward, as if to display something in his palm. It was a gesture Rook recognized, and which meant his guardian was about to begin a lesson. “You have to understand, stranger, being known as an information market means Wordweaver’s Alley is also the perfect place to distribute false intelligence from. The information brokers do their best to make sure their information is accurate — no one would buy from a seller reputed for offering poor quality products, after all — but sometimes certain pieces of counter-intelligence slip through the cracks. In those instances, rivals looking to discredit the seller benefit clients, as they provide a ready source of verification. This way, every rumormonger has an incentive to stay sharp, they’re forced to sell their information at a higher cost to offset investigative expenses, and the clients can be certain they can act on it with reasonable confidence. Everyone wins, wouldn’t you agree?” Grace forced back the distress he's been feeling. The man in question is being as helpful as he can be in his line of work. Ain't his fault. "I'd say it depends on where you stand in it, but you make a good point... I suppose I have another question. Would you know if people have been buying property in Nepenthe lately?" He asked. Of the idea that, ‘everybody wins’ the only way it made sense to Grace’s mind is if they approached the Gateway Tournament from the opposite angle. “Can’t say I’ve heard of any major movements in the real estate market as of late. Of course, ‘as of late’ only extends as far back as before this last week. Since then, the district’s been flooded with offers from the city’s business moguls and construction syndicates, seeking to buy the residents’ homes at any cost. They have yet to see much success, however. The Goddess of the Nepenthe has issued a terminal ban on such sales, and few of its denizens are brave enough to defy her word.” Grace nodded, and thought on what the old man was saying. It sounds like this goddess will be calling the shots after the tournament ended. The would-be contractor would have to contest with her to make any kind of progress. Grace couldn't be sure, but he had an idea that someone had to have talked with Linnea Aurea beforehand. Maybe the architect of the reconstruction project. maybe his partner. Or Mnemon. Someone had to, or the contractor would be sitting on their cash with Dragons circling the hoard. Like wolves around its prey. Still, that’s just one angle. “The people in charge are fine with this?” He knew he should just stay quiet, but questions keep forming. “Even if they object, I can’t see anyone truly being willing to pick a fight about it at this moment.” Rook nodded to his mentor, a small apology for interrupting. “We already know Linnea Aurea is likely to enter the tournament herself, but…” He frowned. “It seems out of character for her to put her foot down so strongly- not unheard of, but I would say rare. This wouldn’t go unnoticed...” He closed his eyes, clearly reviewing information in his head. “If anything, I might say this is favorable to any major players who might be already looking ahead; leaving the markets open to speculators would only increase the chance that some outsider- or worse, one of their rivals- gets lucky.” He nodded. “I think what we can conclude from this is that the Goddess herself is confident in her position, even if she doesn’t win- she’d rather negotiate from where she already was than gamble.” He glanced at Jacek. “Would you agree?” “Perhaps…” Jacek drawled. “Or perhaps she fears the unknown, and dares not risk anything, when the tournament itself has placed her livelihood in jeopardy. Tell me something, boy, how long do you think the city’s powers have known of this contract?” Rook’s face flushed and he cast his eyes downward. “I’m… Not sure, sir. Longer than it’s been official, I’m certain, but…” At least twenty-eight years, Grace thought. After the contract's rejection and bogging down before being forced through, and flipping the table… long enough for everyone involved to be scrambling for a new plan. "You think what she's doing isn't a knee-jerk reaction?" “The opposite, actually. Given the timeframe we’re dealing with, it’s unlikely to be anything but that. It is a rare trait to become more aggressive when caught off-guard. Most people try to retreat and stabilize themselves instead, and I believe our goddess is no exception to this norm. Do you follow me, stranger?” Jacek asked Grace, fixing his eyes on his face. He nods. Sounds like one game is being played between the goddess and some unseen opponent. How many other players, and other games? "Hence her forbiddance on deed sales. But if she opposes what's happening, this would only be a delaying tactic. There'd be ways to circumvent this." “Precisely. The countermove would naturally beget its own countermove, and this would continue until one of the opposing forces secured an unanswerable advantage -- and most likely, that’ll take the form of the renovation contract.” The augur clapped his hands, as if to emphasize that’d be the end of the matter. “We cannot be certain of what the Goddess’ goals are at the moment, but what we can be sure of is that she is scrambling to achieve a better position, one from which she can actually take action to pursue her agenda. Learning what her moves might be, who she is struggling to hold off, and what her overall plans are…that, I believe, is a job best suited to our little cells premier agents.” Another nod. That would be up to Fidelity. But whatever she and the doctor find out will need to be seen as improving her position against her opponent. Though something nagged at Grace, the perceived desperation. "I think I have one last question. What do you think she'd do if she lost?" Rather than answering, Jacek furrowed his brow. Moments passed and became minutes, and still he didn’t move. Just as he seemed to have settled into imitating a statue, his hand darted out and seized one of the reports in the pile. He read it quickly, then let out a sharp snort of disgust. “Smitings? Divine plagues? Curses? Your guess...is as good as mine.” The words came out grudgingly. It was obvious, even to someone not familiar with him, that he hated admitting there was something he did not know. “We have no records of the Goddess of the Nepenthe being pushed to the brink in such a way. I will investigate this matter. You, meanwhile, should hope this does not come to pass. Even a lesser god’s wrath is no laughing matter.” Grace wasn't sure about what a goddess would do, but a sore loser with power? That he could imagine. He looks to his companion, Rook, wondering if he had something on his mind. Rook, who had been staring intently at the floor, relaxed suddenly. “Something is bothering me, sir. Do we know if anyone has reached out to Linnea? Regardless of one’s backing or convictions, it seems… Strange, to me, to leave the goddess whose domain you might be forcibly reshaping in the dark.” “Not officially. There’s been a conspicuous lack of prefectoral emissaries visiting the Nepenthe as of late. Unofficially, only the Goddess herself can say...but my instinct is there’s been nothing by silence. Why do you ask, boy? Any suspicions?” “Just a hunch. If she’s being left to dangle…” His mouth twitched. “Either she truly has no place in whatever designs are being enacted, or someone wants her to think that. My guess is the latter, but I couldn’t say who- there are too many possible candidates for now. The important detail, for now, is that she’s probably looking for allies.” ’But wouldn’t all that suggest she had no idea of the original contract from long ago? Or the architect, who wanted this to happen?’ Something about this isn’t adding up for Grace… “And if she is, she’ll want to make sure they’re true,” Jacek finished, nodding in agreement. “When in a precarious situation, the only thing worse than having no allies is trusting a false friend. When will you make a point of speaking with her?” ‘When’, both exalts noticed Jacek had said. Not ‘if’. “What do you think, sir?” Grace tried his best not to sound as curious as he could be. Whatever he knew would pale compared to the old man who’d been here all his life. Check the corners of his mouth, and where his arms may be reaching for. He did that last time, and Grace thought that there’d be a page containing something that’d remind the old man... [@AnonymousIdiot, you rolled 1,2,3,4,4,4,9 for a total of 1 successes “I think you know your own goals, stranger,” Jacek said, a lopsided smile dawning on his face. “And if you wish to make good on them, you should act, sooner rather than later.” ‘Nothing… I guess it’s our move.’ Grace thought. “It’ll be someone else’s task, but that one may want to have this knowledge shared. We came seeking a connection with Nepenthe and Ilscha, and it seems we’ve lingered a bit long.” “And without even reviewing the dossier, I might add,” Jacek remarked, cheerfully. “If she is your target, you’d do well to make some time to go over it.” “Regardless, sir, we’ve taken enough of your time for the moment.” Rook turned to Grace. “I can make sure our compatriots are informed of Aurea Linnea’s situation while you look over the documents- does that sound acceptable?” “Hmm. Right!” Grace says. “Thank you so much for your time, good sir. Good morning!” “We have some space in our backrooms you can use, stranger. Take the door to the right of this room’s entryway, follow the corridor to its end, then go through the door on your left. Feel free to use it for as long as you have to. Now it’s time for you both to depart, shining ones.The city’s future rests on your shoulders.” He waved his hands in a slow sweep, theatrically shooing them away. “Spread your wings now, and remember: be swift. Be excellent. Be gone!”
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Nov 16, 2020 07:18
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Rendezvous at the Heart Scene: Heart District, A Few Blocks from the Candlemakers’ Guild After following Sun to the Storehouses, Boulder returned to patrolling the Candlemakers’ Guild without incident. Things were quiet inside, with no more orange flashes taking place, though security remained just as tight. Approximately half an hour after his return, however, something caught his eye -- Fara Li and Fidelity, approaching from the direction of the Foundation district and bearing the signal to meet. Boulder swooped past the doctor and the...whatever the proper name for Fidelity might be, cawing twice to indicate they should follow. When the pair had joined him in a promising alley, Boulder returned to his human-ish form and bowed politely. “Would you like to listen first, or speak first, my friends?” “Our news is good, but little of it is pressing. What have you found?” Li asked. “Perhaps not related to tournament, but Mu Min Cho’s Guild unleashes much Fire Essence, hidden from outside with strong wards. Guildhouse protected within by many of Dikona’s troops. The ash candles are miracles and this must be related. The amount of energy involved and alliance with Dikona makes me wonder if the candles have more sinister purpose.” “It is Mu Min Cho,” Fidelity said flatly. “Of course it is sinister. I would look upon this work myself.” Boulder shrugged, “Candles are the most valued luxury now; hard to find. Guildhouse is guarded by extreme heat trapped within perimeter wards and many soldiers. Perhaps another day when time less precious.” “Perhaps so,” Fidelity said. There were others who might shed light upon this mystery, for those with the skill to ask. Little could disturb the area’s geomancy, but that its native elementals would take notice. “Meanwhile, we have learned that the soldiers sent to oversee the tournament have evicted the Black Helms. Why, we cannot say, although I doubt that it bodes well for any of us. Aurea Linnea might know more of their motives...if we can persuade her to speak of them.” “I would keep locals far away too for a fair tournament. Many hooks sunk in them,” replied Boulder. “More important, perhaps, than candles or guards, is the person Wandering Sun met here while watching. She is named Black Moon, and....” Boulder related all he could remember of what he had seen of Wandering Sun’s encounter with Black Moon and the things the Dawn had relayed to him after. “...well that’s grim news,” said Li. “A stranger that we know nothing about, who knows far more than is comfortable about us, and moves with a speed that rivals our best warrior. I don’t know if we should try to find her again or hope she finds some reason to leave on her own.” “Might not the Master know more?” Fidelity asked. “She should be told, at least,” Li said. “Sun would be best, since he spoke to this stranger directly.” “On this, I agree. We have our own business to attend first,” Fidelity said. “Yes, though before we leave-” he turned to Boulder and outlined what they’d learned from Ramet in more detail, along with the news about getting the permits stamped and the new Grey Lung clinic. Near the end of the doctor's explanation, a cough from the rooftops above cut him short. The trio froze, looking up at the source of the noise, ready to fight or flee, only to recognize Rook's silhouette raising his hands as if to show his intent. Without ceremony, he tumbled down from the roof to the street with an acrobat's grace, assisted by the awnings stretched over the handful of alley windows, landing softly. "My apologies- I didn't mean to interrupt," Rook said, brushing himself off. He looked directly at Fidelity and Fara Li. "Have you spoken to Aurea Linnea yet?" His eyes flicked between them, and in the absence of an immediate response, he continued. "No, I take it? Good, because I learned something interesting..." Boulder listened carefully to the Night’s description of the freeze on real estate transactions. “Do we know how much land the goddess controls directly, indirectly, or where she would get a percentage of sale? Maybe she seeks to prevent anyone who officially owns property on her behest from attempting quick sale and departure?” “It will be a volatile market for some time while the worth of the land is re-evaluated,” Li commented. “Even an offer one couldn’t refuse could end up well beneath what the Nepenthe’s value will settle on. Also, speculators parceling out what they buy to whomever pays the most will make things quite difficult for those who live and do business there currently… If she does plan to enter the tournament then the land is an excellent bargaining chip to ensure her own victories, while remaining a fallback in the case of a loss.” “Mmph,” grunted Boulder in a way that acknowledged Li’s point and suggested that further discussion would be too far into the realm of speculation to be useful. “A map showing our path, torn to pieces, but we begin to recover them,” said the snakeman. “Inform the Master about Black Moon after today’s task are done, I think,” he mused. “I will fly higher than before. Close enough to see signals, high enough to see more city.” He looked to see if the others had any objections, and seeing none, shifted into his raiton form and hopped into flight.
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Nov 29, 2020 23:46
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Looking For Work Scene: Streets of the Nepenthe District After Wandering Sun was finished rendezvousing with Garnet, he stepped out of the storehouses to find the sky almost pitch black from falling ash. Rays of fading orange light could be glimpsed through it, just barely, giving him a good idea of the time — late enough that workmen would be out and about, visiting the city’s bars, as they always did when the ash got thick enough. And if the workmen were out drinking, that meant the city’s lowlives would likely be doing the same, too. His wanderings soon led him to a dive bar with a collapsed front, adorned with a crude painting of a spider, dangling from its thread. According to sources he’d hit up along the way, the worst and most dangerous muscle in the city met up inside. On the building’s side, an open basement hatch door offered a way in. The moment Sun finished his descent, a bare-chested mountain of a man blocked his path and clapped a hand covered by a reinforced punching glove to his shoulder. “Bar ain’t open to random visitors, kid,” said the living mountain, his voice guttural and deep. “You got an invitation to come in?” Wandering Sun was on his guard, and a little nervous as he sized up the bouncer. Admittedly, he was less concerned with the physical threat of the man and more about unintentionally doing something that blew back on the rest of his comrades. Hopefully the two similar emotions read the same from the outside. “I don’t have an invitation. But I’d like one.” He’d had some crash courses in this kind of situation, and the conclusion they’d reached was that Wandering Sun was a terrible liar. They’d told him the best move was just to stick as close to the truth as possible, with as little extraneous detail as possible. “You and every other punk in town,” the bouncer said, snorting dismissively as he crossed his arms, emphasizing the size of his pectorals. “Beat it, kid, unless you want me to beat your face in instead. If you want in, form connections outside first.” Wandering Sun hadn’t expected to just be let in because he asked nicely, but at the same time, he didn’t have the time to slowly work his way into underworld circles to get an invitation. When the bouncer took his hand off his shoulder, Sun moved like a snake, grabbing hold of the man’s wrist. Sun was not a mountain of a man, but he was considerably stronger than he looked. “I am not any other punk. Please, invite me inside.” He didn’t squeeze the wrist or twist the man’s arm, but simply did not allow the man to move it. His tone was level, and there was no anger in it. Nor was it dismissive of the bouncer. It was simply a threat - the kind that was delivered by someone with little skill in making threats, and a lot of skill in backing them up. @Green Bean, you rolled 2,2,4,4,7,8,9,9,10,10,10,10,10 for a total of 14 successes The moment Sun’s hand wrapped around the bouncer’s wrist, the hulk tensed up and grit his teeth, and the air around them became charged. He didn’t act immediately, though — instead, he spent a few crucial moments sizing his opponent up. As he took in Sun’s stance, and his speed, the man’s aggression wavered. He wasn’t afraid of getting into a fight...but this was an inconvenient situation to start one from. Odds were good that, even if he could beat the kid, he’d end up out of commission for a while. And that just wouldn’t do. “...Tch. Fine. Suit yourself. But don’t come running back to me if someone breaks your nose, you hear me?” Stepping aside, he stretched his arm out to invite him in. “Welcome to the Spider’s Thread, kid.” Beyond the bouncer, a dimly lit hallway led to a basement twice as wide and long as the house above it had been. Bare wooden tables were arranged around the outer rim, men and women with ugly faces and even worse attitudes seated around them, drinking and speaking quietly. On the far end, behind the bar, a wiry man with nasty burn marks covering half his face doled out drinks from two dozen barrels. The bulk of the room was dominated by a hole in the ground, surrounded by a mess of spiked wires, its floor covered in sand. A fighting arena, judging by the stale stink of sweat and washed-out blood. There was plenty of space for Sun to choose from here...he just had to find his spot, and the right person to ask some questions to. Wandering Sun stayed on his guard as he passed through the threshold, just in case he was about to experience a sap to the back of the head, but he made his way safely inside. The Spider’s Thread was...more or less what he expected, but that didn’t make it any less dangerous. He picked his way through the crowd, making his way to the bar. He was looking for who was desperate to hire, and that meant making himself look a little desperate. He patiently waited for his turn at the bar, and ordered whatever was cheapest, making sure to fish around in his coin purse for a few moments in order to buy it. Once he’d done whatever the opposite of flashing a big roll of cash was, he settled into a relatively quiet corner and started nursing his drink. He knew he needed to size the place up for a little bit before he went butting in. As he sipped his drink (it was as much because of the terrible flavor as his desire to keep clearheaded), he cast his gaze around the bar to see if anyone caught his eye. Admittedly, he was better at spotting physical threats than social opportunities, but hopefully there was enough overlap for him to have some competence. @Green Bean, you rolled 1,1,2,4,9,10 for a total of 3 successes Two things caught Sun’s eye as he tried to make the most of drinking a brew he couldn’t have rightly said wasn’t stale piss in disguise: first, several of the Thread’s visitors seemed to have business with the barman. They’d get up, approach the bar slowly, as if they meant nothing by it, exchange a few words, and then slip him a few coins and head for a backdoor leading up to the ruined household. It happened every few minutes, with amazing consistency. Clearly this place dealt in more than just bad drinks. Second, and just as notably, one of the patrons appeared to be having a notably bad day. He argued with two other thugs furiously, his face as red as his nose, his voice loud enough to catch bits and pieces of their conversation even from the other side of the room. “—Don’t care how much you ask! Boss doesn’t want your useless asses to ask questions. We patrol, we crush anyone who doesn’t fit in, we get paid. You chickenshits too scared of a little risk to pass up good money like that?” His two companions said something Sun couldn’t hear. In response the loudmouth slammed his tankard against the table. “—Off then. The job is what it is. You don’t like it, get the gently caress outta my way and stop wasting my time before I toss you into the arena and make an example of you both.” Flashing him an obscene hand gesture, the two men accompanying him stood up and departed the bar, leaving the red-nosed thug to nurse his drink in peace, fuming all the while. Wandering Sun needed an excuse to get up, so he drained his drink, regretting that decision immediately. He returned his glass to the bar, and then wandered over in the direction of the red-nosed man, seemingly on a whim. He slipped into a nearby seat, and opened with the obvious. “I heard something about good money?” Straightforward and to the point. “Eh,” the man grunted, taking a long drink from his tankard. His repeatedly-broken nose and squinting eyes made him look dull, but from the way he was looking at him, Sun could tell he was being thoroughly examined. “Pay’s good, if you’re not afraid to get your hands dirty, but I’m not gonna take just about anyone just because a couple bitches don’t have the guts to do some real work. Who are you kid, and who do you run with?” Wandering Sun’s knowledge of the city’s gangs were limited to the occasional non-lethal altercation where he’d been asked to chase off a small group of street toughs who’d become problems for the frontline workers. Yes, he received frequent reports and briefings, but those just served to emphasize to him that things in the criminal underworld shifted quickly, and outdated information was often worse than no information at all. He met the man’s gaze. “Call me Niu.” It was an obvious pseudonym, but Sun figured only a fool would give his real name in the circumstances. “And I’ve got no problem getting my hands dirty if I have to. If you need proof, I’m not running with anyone right now, and I got in just fine.” He leaned back in his chair, letting the man size him up - his balance, his wiry strength, the armor under his clothes. “No gang? Hm. Means you’re new here, then.” The man crossed his arms and said nothing for some time. Then he nodded, slowly. “Name’s Enma. Welcome aboard, kid. You ever dealt with a relocation crew before?” Wandering Sun felt relieved, but tried not to show it. It did, of course, but at the same time, it was the sort of reaction one would expect for a young up and comer fishing for their first job in the criminal underworld. “Depends on what you mean by ‘dealt with’.” Perhaps some of the toughs he’d fought before had been one of those. “Word of advice, kid,” Enma said, as he drank the remainder of his booze down and gestured at the barman for a refill. “If you’re tryin’ to bullshit someone, being vague ain’t gonna cut it. Pick something you can be honest about and then stick to it. Makes people less likely to think you don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” The thug shook his head sharply, as if scaring away buzzing flies. “Lately, these assholes have been comin’ into the district, seeking to persuade people to move out of the houses in the fringes. Sons of bitches don’t take no for an answer. Either you give them what they want and sign off on a deed for pennies, or they beat you up and leave you lyin’ in a pool of your own blood to think about your mistakes. Then, when they hear you can walk again, they come back. They call themselves ‘relocation specialists’...fancy name for goons running a shakedown.” Enma’s face darkened. His hoarse, croaky boss got even lower and quieter than it had been up to that point. “My boss don’t like that. Competition trying to muscle in on our turf ain’t good for business. So we’re gonna keep an eye out for these punks, and we’re gonna send ‘em to the healers in the Graveyard on a stretcher. We’re lookin’ at a decent pack of them, maybe a dozen, and so far I got two other people to cover my back, decent brawlers who can hold their own in a fight. You got a problem dealing with a numbers disadvantage, kid?” Enma tries to read Sun’s intentions. He gets 2 successes, which fails against Sun’s Guile of 2 courtesy of a stunt bonus. Wandering Sun nodded, trying to hide his embarrassment as he was called out as an amateur. Fortunately, that was exactly the reaction an actual amateur would have, as opposed to an amateur who was also a spy. “I- I’ll keep it in mind.” He leaned in as the discussion got more specific. “I don’t like the sound of these guys either.” This job sounded...downright righteous, which he was naturally a little suspicious of on the face. Still, it definitely bore further investigation. He puffed up a little, exaggerating his natural warrior’s pride. “They won’t outnumber us when I’m done.” “Good attitude. Here’s hoping you can keep it up while under pressure. We meet up by the Min-Hua tenements in twenty minutes. Can’t miss it, you can see its yellow bricks from miles away. If you need to get any gear, you better get going. If not...OI, BARTENDER! WHERE THE HELL’S MY DRINK?” Wandering Sun gave Enma a serious look, and then headed out of the bar. He dropped in to the outreach clinic nearest to the Min-Hua tenements to quickly confirm the man’s story and pass on his own findings to the Cult. To justify his stop, he picked up a weighted club (nothing too suspicious, just something that would be kept on site for self-defense) from a supply closet and headed for the tenements.
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Dec 27, 2020 02:35
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Street Fighter Scene: Streets outside the Min Hua Tenements, Nepenthe District True to his word, Enma was waiting by the entrance to the tenements, sitting with his back against the wall in a more than passable imitation of a sorry drunk. The heavy gauntlets he was wearing gave the game away, however. No vagrant would ever carry such heavily armored handwear around. “‘Bout drat time, kid,” he said, raising a hand for a greeting. “Was startin’ to wonder if you were ever gonna show up.” Two toughs were watching him from the other side of the street, one short and jittery, the other broad-chested and calm as he smoked a rough-hewn pipe, his shirtless chest expanding and contracting like a funnel with every breath. At a signal from Enma, they crossed over to meet up with him and Sun. “Boys, meet the new meat. Boys, this is Niu. The big guy’s Jisu, the jumpy rat’s Lao.” “This is our crew for today?” There was a hint of disbelief in Lao’s voice as he shot Sun a look. “Don’t you think you’re taking too many chances, bringing so few people into this?” “Not if it’s the right people,” Enma countered. “‘Sides, the less people we work with, the bigger a cut each of us takes home when this is over.” Jisu grunted affirmatively. “Foundation lapdogs. We can handle them,” he said, spitting in disgust at the thought of their opponents. “Tch, fine. But you owe me a couple rounds after this is over, Enma!” said the little man. “Yeah, yeah,” Enma muttered, waving his hand dismissively as he stood up. “Listen up. The western entrance gate to the district’s not far from here. ‘Less we got bad info, those punks oughta be comin’ that way. We meet them, goad ‘em into a fight, and then beat the crap out of them. Anyone need a more detailed plan? ” Wandering Sun gave Enma and the two other strangers a friendly nod, though his expression remained the neutral mask that normally came over him when he thought a fight was about to happen. The plan Enma described was pretty close to something he might have come up with in this situation...which was a little worrying. He found himself wishing that Ineffable Grace was here, since he was far better at this sort of tactical situation. He tried to treat it like one of Lin Zhen's briefings - find at least one question to ask or improvement to suggest. “If they’ve got backup, which direction would it come from?” “The sewers!” Lao jumped in. “There’s nowhere else to sneak in from without someone noticing and setting off the alarm. Keep your eyes out while you’re out there, someone might try to come at you from a storm drain.” His fingers twitched nervously as he imagined the possibility. “Hmm. Not likely though,” Jisu added, shaking his head. His stolid expression twisted into a frown. “Monsters down below.” “Bunch of bullshit if you ask me, it’s gotta be beastmen. The monsters got chased out when I was the kid’s age,” Enma countered. “We know what to expect, though. C’mon, people. Let’s get this done.” The short trek to the western gate passed in silence as the group navigated through small back-alleys to avoid detection. Soon, a large, heavily reinforced gate cut off the entire street, accompanied by a crumbling wall that was nonetheless a solid ten feet high. The area was deserted, with not even a single guard or vagrant to be seen. There was barely any time for the crew to settle into a waiting spot before the gate swung open with a metallic screech, and a squad of musclebound goons slipped through it, each one uglier than the last. All of them were armed, some with knives and sticks, others with claws and bladed chains. “There’s the party we were looking for...” Enma murmured. “Follow my lead and make this quick.” Beckoning Sun and the others with a wave, he stepped into the middle of the street, moving with a casual, confident gait. “Oi, you punks. Th’ hell ya think you’re doin’ comin’ over to visit? The message you got was crystal clear. You little shits don’t got ears on the sides of your heads or somethin’?” “Y’mean that kid that came to us with a warning?” One of them, a brute wearing a half-mask with a voice so slimy it could’ve splashed grease at ten paces, spoke up. “Hah. Look at who sent the lil’ poo poo at us, boys? He’s lucky we didn’t get our hands on him. Would’ve cracked his skull open before sending him back. Y’know, to send a message!” The brute (who had to be the leader of the outfit), threw his head back and let out a strained, nasty laugh. It ended moments later, as abruptly as it had begun. “Can’t believe you pieces of trash are wastin’ our time like this. A couple old farts and a baby still sucking on his mother’s tit? Funniest joke I ever heard.” The lingering smile on the leader’s face hardened, turned into something far more sinister. “Get out of our way and we won’t hurt you. Much.” Wandering Sun didn’t like the looks of any of these guys. If he was in Enma’s place, he would’ve attacked at this point, since it was obviously going in that direction. But he wasn’t the leader, and it was entirely possibly there were subtleties to the situation that he would disturb by striking first. So he just made sure he had his weapon in hand, and watched carefully. For all the goons were making of his age and presumed inexperience, he seemed quite calm in the face of impending violence. “Tch. Can’t believe trash like you got sent our way. All talk, no brains.” Enma’s expression oozed contempt as he stared the outsiders down. Then, he let out a dismissive snort. “Fine. ‘S about time you punks learned how the Grandmaster Spider deals with upstarts.” He clapped his armored fists, sending out a wave of sound that echoed in the night. Behind the relocation crew, the gates slammed shut. Smirking, Enma raised his fists and took up a fighting stance. “Take ‘em down, boys! No mercy!” Join Battle: @Green Bean, you rolled 1,1,1,1,2,2,2,5,8,10 for a total of 3 successes As for NPC combatants, Enma, Jisu and Lao act as a team and roll 5 successes, the relocators get 3 successes and go after Sun, and their leader gets only one success. Initiative at round start: E/J/L: 8 Sun: 6 Relocators: 6 Leader: 4 The three strongmen from the Nepenthe moved as one. As Enma charged into the melee, Lao tossed a few knives at the thugs, scattering them, and Jisu grabbed an empty barrel lying nearby and followed after him, bellowing a roar that made the windows of nearby buildings rattle. It was quick, precise, and efficient -- which made the thugs’ response all the more surprising as they deftly sidestepped the knives, blocked their blows with their knives and clubs and encircled Jisu and Enma, trapping them in their midst. Apparently their opponents were just as coordinated as them. Bad news if Sun could not take immediate action to even up the odds. Wandering Sun was away from his preferred weapon, but unfortunately for the assembled thugs, that just forced the swordsman to be more aggressive - better to end the fight quickly before he made a mistake. He darted forward, club in a two-handed grip, bowling trash and debris aside as he headed straight for the heart of the mob. The relocators had surrounded Jisu and Enma, so his first priority was to carve his way through to their side. Naturally, the thugs didn’t like that idea, but Sun wasn’t asking politely. The club was a brutal weapon, and while Sun had picked up from Enma’s briefing that the plan was not to kill everyone, there was not really a nice way to render an aggressive foe incapable of fighting. The first man who faced him with a knife had his fingers broken, which was then followed by both of his arms just in case he was ambidextrous. The second, armed with a pair of improvised claws, held them too low and was immediately cracked in the head and knocked out. The third, armed with a club, attempted to go one on one with him, at which point Sun smashed through the weapon and the man in a single blow. Thus it continued until Sun reached Jisu and Enma’s side...but then he kept going, making it clear that he wasn’t there just to aid them, but to take out every last one of them. Sun does a withering attack against the group, I'll spend 3 motes on Excellent Strike, 2 on Fire and Stones, and use Perfect Strike Discipline, using my Cult Willpower to pay it. Rising Sun Slash also activates @Green Bean, you rolled 1,1,1,1,2,2,3,3,3,4,5,5,5,5,6,6,6,7,8,8,9,10,10,10 for a total of 10 successes @Green Bean, you rolled 6,6,8,9 for a total of 2 successes @Green Bean, you rolled 9 for a total of 1 successes Damage: @Green Bean, you rolled 1,1,2,4,4,5,5,6,7,7,7,8,8,8,9,10,10,10 for a total of 13 successes Sun gains 6 initiative, 1 from hitting and 5 from causing an Initiative Break by emptying the Battle Group’s size. The thugs dropped like flies. Only a few of them were able to avoid taking the brunt of Sun’s strikes by dodging away at the last minute, and even then, they bore nasty bruises that rapidly swelled in size as a silent testament to the efficacy of his attacks. As the goons all around him were cut down to size, Enma whistled quietly. “Nice work, kid. Didn’t know the district still had some untapped talent like this to call on!” The few remaining toughs that could still stand quickly recognized who the real threat was and came after Sun, screaming obscenities at him. Wandering Sun had anticipated becoming the main target, and had positioned himself with his back to a wall so they couldn’t come from behind. Though that also had the advantage of keeping them away from his newly minted brothers in arms. He caught a throwing knife on his club, then moved it in a blurring pattern that fended off the up-close attacks. The goons try to get some revenge on Sun, getting an amazing 6 successes on 7 dice! Unfortunately for them, an activation of Hail-Shattering Practice and a slick stunt causes them to miss. The thugs’ leader could scarcely believe his own eyes as he witnessed such a tremendous display of skill. “You...you...” he sputtered out. “STOP MAKING A MOCKERY OF US, YOU SON OF A BITCH!!” He roared, diving into the melee with his bladed chain spinning rapidly above him... The thugs’ leader attempts to strike Sun, taking advantage of the Onslaught penalty his goons have created for him! Sun preemptively cancels it with Dipping Swallow Defense, and raises his defense by 1...but surprisingly, the leader straight up botches his roll. ...But his rage made his movements predictable, and Sun had such little trouble countering his strike that the chain deflected off his club and bounced backwards, grazing the leader’s arm. “Gah! I’ll kill you for this!” He cried out, clutching his bicep with his free hand. “You think this is gonna be the end of it? Lady Jaya will have your hearts ripped out for this, you—” He abruptly went silent, his eyes going wide beneath his half-mask as it dawned on him he’d said something he shouldn’t have. Enma grinned. “So the spoiled lil’ princess is behind this, huh...boss is gonna be real interested ‘bout this, I think. Niu,” he said, shooting Sun a brief glance. “Try not to kill him if you can. There’s a fat bonus in it for all of us if we can make this pig squeal.” End of Round 1! Initiatives: Sun: 12 E/J/L: 8 Relocators: 6 Leader: 4 Wandering Sun was surrounded on all sides by the hardiest and most dangerous of the relocators...and they’d proven no match. He feinted at the leader, but instead spun in place and attacked the men to his left and right. The leader would be far easier to catch without support. Between one heartbeat and the next, the remaining thugs are scattered around the courtyard. Leaving their leader facing down four men - one of whom was Wandering Sun. “S-poo poo!” The musclebound hulk did not seem nearly as confident now as he had before. “I-I won’t back down! If you jokers think this is over, you’ve got another thing coming!” Before he or anyone else could do anything, however, a spear fell from the skies to embed itself deeply into the ground before him, causing a spider web of cracks to spread across the pavement. Moments later, a cloaked figure landed on the spear’s tasselled butt. “Violence under the moonlight, at the very gates of the district! The Nepenthe grows more unsafe by the day,” said the cloaked figure, his voice resonating with a gallant tone. “Villains such as yourselves would do well to remember that the streets belong to the people, and no one else. I cannot allow this dastardly act to go unpunished!” With a single, fluid, graceful motion, the cloaked man jumped off the spear and tossed aside his garb. As he landed, the streetlights illuminated the dashing visage of a dark-skinned youth, the very picture of a stalwart vigilante...and someone whom Sun knew well. Grabbing his spear, Jekah, the Shrieking Talon and Sun’s fellow envoy of the Cult of the Illuminated, assumed a fighting stance. “Prepare yourself, vicious bully! It is time for you to learn a sorely-needed lesson!” Without another word, he launched himself forward, like a human bullet, his deadly spear aimed squarely at Sun’s chest. If he had recognized his brother in faith, he did not let it show — which, knowing Jekah, meant he likely was completely unaware of who he was fighting. BGM: The Spear of Justice! Wandering Sun’s first instinct was to put the club between himself and the strike, but Jekah’s speed and strength meant that his blow would probably go through both. Instead, he swung his club sideways, praying his timing was correct and it would catch the spear on its side and direct it away from him. Jekah enters the scene! His initial rolls set his initiative to 12, just like Sun’s, which he capitalizes on to make a Withering attack. A super hot roll with 12 successes pierces Sun’s defenses, even with 4m spent on augmenting his Parry, and his attack does 6 initiative damage, plus 1 from a successful strike, minus 1 initiative paid to fuel a charm he just used. That moves his initiative to 18 for the next turn...uh-oh. It was a very near thing, but Sun managed to deflect what might have been a killing blow. The spear soared a few inches past his ear, and Jekah took a step back. “Hoh, impressive! Most men would struggle to survive such a blow. Not too bad for a two-bit legbreaker!” He congratulated him, as he assessed his opponent. Wandering Sun took a half step back from the force of Jekah’s blow - it didn’t seem like much, but for someone like him, he might as well have been blown backwards across the yard. He sized up his ‘foe’s’ skills, though he knew that either of them truly defeating the other would be a losing prospect in this situation. His mind raced through different ways to communicate with Jekah even as he raised his battered club in defense once more. Perhaps a hint? “You think you can just run around in the dark spearing people? If you’re going to be some Moonlight Maniac, then you can just call me the bloody Wandering Sun, and I’ll make sure you’ve set for the night.” He really hoped the name drop was enough to jog the man’s memories; he had a bit of a gift for poetry, but that stuff wasn’t usually improv’d. “A wandering sun? HAH!” Jekah scoffed. “I knew I recognized your face, scum! Your countenance brings shame to a most righteous man in its similarity to his face! My brother in arms would never be caught participating in petty street brawls such as these!” His spear trembled in his hand as he aimed it at Sun’s chest, as if it were aching for the chance to pierce his heart. “I will not allow you to besmirch his name by keeping this rampant thuggery up any longer. It is time for me to end this!” Clearly, the allusion had not gone unnoticed, yet in spite of that, Jekah was undeterred. It seemed that the problem was not one of face-blindness, but conviction. He was so certain this sort of brawl was beneath Sun’s conduct, he had not even stopped to consider this might actually be Sun, doing all this for reasons unbeknownst to him. “Oi, Niu!” Enma called out. “We got this punk over here under control.” He ducked underneath the relocator leader’s wildly swinging chain as he spoke, sending him lurching backwards with a blow to the abdomen. “Need a hand with that jackass over there?” Wandering Sun didn’t really like the idea of being the guy besmirching his own name, but this mission was really important to the Illuminated and he definitely wasn’t backing down. He called over to Enma. “I’m fine, don’t let your guy get away.” It was mostly for his protection - Enma wasn’t bad, but he definitely wasn’t a match for Jekah. Sun wasn’t entirely sure he was a match for Jekah, if it came down to it. He readjusted his grip on his club and looked Jekah in the eye. “Shall we duel, then? I hope I can trust you not to stab my friends in the back while we fight.” End of Round 2! Enma & Co. and the thug leader are removed from combat, as their part in this affair has concluded. That just leaves Sun and Jekah in combat! Top of the round initiative: Jekah: 18 Sun: 6 “A request for honor, from a back-alley thug? Interesting! Very well, then. Let the better man stand tall today, thief of faces!” Jekah’s next strike was almost impossible to perceive before it had already been executed. He kicked off the ground, with such ferocity the cobblestones turned to dust, and used that momentum to cross the distance between him and Sun in an instant. Tucked close to his body, his spear remained inert until he was less than a foot from Sun, and then he thrust forward, causing the air to shriek with its speed — a maneuver that had helped earn his nickname of the Shrieking Talon. Jekah launches another Withering attack, this one with a little more oomph behind it. He spends 6m and 1i to empower it, adding 5 dice and 1 sux, plus one die of damage on a successful hit. Sun uses a full excellency to fuel his defense, which is good, because Jekah’s result of 18 sux would’ve been catastrophic otherwise. As is, he takes 9 init damage, and drops to init -2, going into Initiative Crash. Jekah goes up to init 32 in the bargain, oof. Fortunately, Wandering Sun’d seen Jekah do this particular move in training, otherwise he couldn’t have even begun to dodge it. He flipped backwards on top of some crates, though it was still a near miss, and Sun was thoroughly off-balanced as a result. Wandering Sun needed space - away from Enma so he could speak freely and away from Jekah so he could avoid getting impaled. Unfortunately, with the man as close as he was, that meant he was going to have to attack his brother in arms. Jekah’s shrieking spear was incredibly potent, but there was so much force behind it that he knew the man would be off balance for at least a fraction of a second. A fraction of a second Wandering Sun used to dash inside of his guard and take a swing at him. A serious one, of course, but one he knew was unlikely to seriously hurt Jekah, and force him to keep his distance for a few seconds… Wandering Sun tries to wither Jekah, spends 5 motes on Excellent Strike and an excellency. He hits with 2 threshold successes, and manages 1 init damage, bringing him to init 0 It didn’t go as well as he’d hoped, but now he was committed to the plan. With incredible agility, he backflipped onto some nearby crates that had been stacked in the corner, and then bounded back and forth between the two converging walls in order to make his way to the top of the barrier. Once he found his balance again, he gestured dramatically with his club. “You’re very good, but let’s take this duel to a higher level!” Wandering Sun spends 2m to immediately move one range band. End of Round 3! Initiative: Jekah: 31 Sun: 0 “Is that a challenge?!” If there was one thing that characterized Jekah, it was his hunger for thrills and obstacles to overcome. He didn’t even think twice before plunging his spear to the ground, using it to vault upward onto the gate wall. “Anything you can do, I can, and WILL do better! Are you ready to admit defeat now, thug?!” As he spoke, he launched a few probing feints, seeking gaps in Sun’s defenses. Sun allowed himself to be driven back by the feints - they were far enough away from the courtyard that he just wanted to add that little bit of extra distance from Enma. “I’m not one to admit defeat.” He wasn’t yelling it, since that wasn’t really his style, but he made sure his voice was loud enough to carry. Then he dropped his tone to a lower, almost conversational tone, one that would hopefully carry no further than Jekah. <Please, do not stab me, brother. I am not here to fight you, but I need to keep their trust.> He used the strange patois the Illuminated had developed, a melting pot of all the different dialects that made up their membership. For the first time since the battle had begun, Jekah hesitated. “What? What is the meaning of this trickery?! Who are you really?” This time, his strikes came from afar. Careful to keep his distance, Jekah launched a barrage of rapid stabs, forcing Sun to block them or perish. Jekah performs a Gambit! Spending 8m on a full excellency (+1m +1i from a charm), he overwhelms Sun’s defense with a result of 11 successes, and then makes the difficulty of 7 the Gambit requires, destroying Sun’s club outright! Jekah loses 8 initiative for his successful gambit. Sun managed to parry each and every single one of the strikes, but that was precisely what his opponent had been looking for. Unable to beat the strain from being subjected to so many ferocious blows, the club shattered to splinters in his grasp. With nothing to bar its way, the spear soon found itself close to Sun’s throat. “It is past time you explained yourself, you guttersnipe! How do you know the secret language of my people? What is this about some cover you wish to protect? Speak quickly now. My patience wears thin for games.” Sun knew he didn’t have much of a chance of saving his weapon, but he saw the opportunity in that Jekah probably would not purposefully kill an unarmed foe. He could see the spear heading for his throat, so he stepped forward slightly - not enough to be obvious, but enough that he could hopefully talk without being overheard. Plus, he knew he was fast enough to go for his knife if it truly came down to it. <I am Wandering Sun, I am trying to find out who is driving people from their homes. The men I am with are doing the same for selfish reasons, but they know more than me so I am working with them.> His tone sounded a little frustrated, but hopefully Enma and his backup would pick up that but not that he was speaking a different language. Sun rolls to Persuade Jekah that he really is who he says he is. A roll of 11 beats a resolve of 9, thankfully, helping his comrade see the light. Concern struck Jekah’s handsome features. Though the situation seemed rather unbelievable, that tone and that conviction were unmistakable. <Grab my spear’s shaft and roll with me,> he whispered, hurriedly. As soon as Sun had done so, he let out an indignant shout of “drat you, fiend! Let go!” and tumbled over the side towards the Beasts’ Lair district. Landing on his feet, Jekah set aside his spear and hurried over towards him. <Brother Sun? But how could it be? I was told you were tasked with a secret mission from Master Lin Zhen! What happened to drive you to seek such company? Surely there were better ways to find the knowledge you seek!> Wandering Sun followed Jekah’s lead, snatching at the spear and tumbling over the side of the wall. He tried to manage a convincing snarl of surprise, but with the exertion of battle it came out more like a strangled cough as they tumbled to the ground. He didn’t quite stay upright, but he managed a tripod landing with one of his hands, and was quickly on his feet. <Maybe there were. I’m not much good at this, I have to admit.> He dusted himself off and listened for further pursuit. He probably wouldn’t have much time before Enma came looking. <But the people of this tenement would be out on the streets right now if I hadn’t sought these men out. That at least feels like a victory.> <That it does, brother,> Jekah said, nodding approvingly. <I should not have doubted you and your methods. You are an example for the rest of us, now and always. Is there anything I can do to facilitate this...investigation of yours?> Wandering Sun tried to consider his next steps, and something Jekah could do that leveraged his strengths. <We should part ways for now. But I doubt those men I fought are the only group trying to intimidate people out of their homes. If you could keep an eye open for more, that will free me to focus on the source.> Jekah clapped a hand to his chest. <Consider it done, brother. Seek me at the Flower once your work is done. I will have something to share with you, this I swear on my honor as a Shining One!> Wandering Sun gave him a slight bow, grateful for the man’s understanding. <May the spirit of Shen Aru go with you.> When Jekah left, Sun headed for the gates of the tenement, feeling tired but knowing his job was not quite done. He drew his knife from his boot and made a long but superficial cut along his cheek, along the trajectory that a near miss with a spearhead would take. He made sure to smear his knife’s blade in the blood, so it looked like he’d stabbed someone as well. When he reached the tenement gates, he smacked his fist against them a few times. “Hullo? Enma? Everyone okay?” “Niu!” Enma’s gruff voice was unmistakable tinged with relief, in spite of his best attempts to conceal it. Appearing from one of the nearby alleyways, he beckoned Sun towards him. Inside the alleyway, Jisu and Lao were keeping an eye on the knocked-out thug who had led the relocators earlier during their battle. All of them bore light injuries, but none of them appeared too serious, thankfully. “Was wondering what’d happened to you. For a second, I wondered if we’d have to drink to your next life, kid. What happened to that freak you were dealing with? He cause you too much trouble?” Wandering Sun ducked into the alleyway, looking over his recent comrades. “He’s gone now. Left him something to remember me by, though.” He wiped the blood from his cheek, and grabbed a cloth from his pocket to start cleaning his knife - proper weapon maintenance was important. “You find out anything from the relocators? The guy said a name, right?” “Yeah. Yeah, we did.” Enma spat out in disgust, and said nothing more. “It’s a princess!” Lao piped in, gesticulating furiously. “The daughter of one of the Factors of the Guild! What’d I tell you, big guy? I knew they were behind this!” “Hnn.” Jisu grunted. “The Nepenthe’s in some deep poo poo. We’re gonna have to warn the boss about this.” “We don’t know why they’re doing this, kid. That stuff’s outta our paygrade, and this lunkhead’s too,” Enma said, prodding the relocators leader’s unconscious frame with a steel-toed boot. “But it’s gonna be some serious poo poo. Gonna be a whole lot more fighting in our future...I can feel it in these old bones.” A hint of something that might have been concerned flashed across Enma’s eyes. “You don’t wanna get caught up in it. I got enough money to cover your cut right here. Take it and go, if you know what’s good for you.” Wandering Sun was a little torn - he couldn’t exactly unilaterally declare war on the Guild on the Illuminated’s behalf. But if the Guild was muscling in on the slums, he absolutely needed to be a part of finding out what was going on. He shook his head. “You’ve done right by me, Enma. I’m sticking with you, at least for now.” While the risks were significant, he knew this was a good way to find out more about at least two of the factions vying for the city’s underworld. At this, Enma broke out into a ferocious smile. “You got guts, kid, and the skills to back ‘em up too. If you’re too hardheaded to quit while you’re ahead, I won’t say no to having you watch our backs. Lao, Jisu, help me pick this punk up. It’s about time we got going.” Roughly, Enma hefted the thugs’ leader by his armpits. Once he was properly held up, he turned to shoot Sun a look. “I gotta talk to the boss to tell him we got a new recruit. Prolly better if he doesn’t see you just yet, so this is where we part ways. Drop by the Spider’s Thread tomorrow. I’ll leave a message with the bartender to tell you when and where we’ll meet up again. Don’t get into too much trouble ‘til then, you hear me? We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.” Wandering Sun managed a smile. “As long as it’s paying work, right? You be careful out there too.” It felt like this was going well, but he probably wouldn’t find out until he made his full report to Lin Zhen. There was a lot of stuff going on, and it felt like he only had the one piece. “You don’t get to live as long as we have without bein’ careful sometimes, kid,” Enma chided him, though the lopsided half-grin on his face suggested it wasn’t a serious admonishment. “Maybe if we find some spare time we can teach you a thing or two ‘bout keeping a low profile. We’ll see if we can do that soon. C’mon, boys! Let’s get going!” The three brawlers disappeared down the corner of the street quickly, leaving Sun alone in the middle of a street still strewn with unconscious bodies. It hadn’t been a bad haul for a day’s work. A solid beatdown delivered, a solid paycheck earned, and most importantly, a solid lead on what seemed like a burgeoning turf war.
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Dec 27, 2020 02:37
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Pleasure to Make Your Acquaintance Scene: The Princess’ Providence, Nepenthe District The Nepenthe had always stood in stark contrast with its sister neighborhood, the Graveyard of Fireflies. Even before the Calamity of Blossoms’ advent (as the locals had taken to calling the overload of the city’s nearby manse) had yet to occur and the district that would become the Graveyard was known as the Artisans’ Quarter, the Nepenthe was already known as a rambunctious locale, in stark contrast with the peaceful stolidity of its neighbor. Since then, their reputations had only grown more distinct. Outsiders knew the Graveyard as a grim place, full of difficulties and bereft of hope. By contrast, the Nepenthe laughed in the face of misfortune. Its citizens had painted their houses in brighter colours, partied harder, and invented new games to keep each other busy amidst the ashfalls. Of all the placesp in the area, the Princess’ Providence was perhaps the one that best embodied the Nepenthe’s spirit. Its stained glass windows twisted the moonlight into something more intoxicating and otherworldly, and gilded animated sculptured embedded on the edifice’s walls chronicled the journey of the mysterious princess that gave the building its name -- from blissful riches, to poverty and a thousand maladies, to a new life as a child of the slums. A great revival if there ever was one...assuming one shared the owner’s sensibilities, at any rate. This was the home of Aurea Linnea, the goddess of the Nepenthe, known amongst her detractors as the Goddess of Thieves and Whores. The front doors were free for anyone to access. Inside, a bright-eyed, pretty girl manned the front desk of a spacious lobby. The room was brightly lit, empty, and surprisingly, dead silent. It was as if the building was cut off from the outside world, almost. “Welcome to the Princess’ Providence!” With a practiced motion, the receptionist stood up and greeted Fidelity and Li with a bow. “How may I help you tonight, madam and sir?” “We have come to speak with the lady of the house,” Fidelity said. Since their visit to Founders’ Command, she had changed into less-modest garb: a himation of yellow silk, with a necklace and earrings of amber to match. It was the color of prosperity and commerce; red would have been unwisely-presumptuous, while blue would have signalled a different kind of supplication. With spirits, it was always important to strike exactly the right tone at the outset of negotiation. Li had, with much reluctance, been persuaded to put his hat away and wear a robe of the same color. It was borrowed, as he didn’t have anything quite so... tacky... in his closet. He simply nodded when Fidelity spoke, privately hoping he wouldn’t be recognized. It would take some explaining if Shoji found out he was seeing the Goddess of Whores with a mysterious unknown woman. “The Goddess is currently busy. Do you have an appointment?” asked the receptionist. “We do,” Fidelity said, to Li’s surprise. “My seal should be in your register.” And so it was - a new row had appeared in between two others, as if by magic (which it absolutely was). Fidelity activates Crossroads Walker Entreaty, AKA the Lunar version of the Eclipse diplomacy power. She exercises her divine prerogative to make an appointment! “Oh! There it is. Please follow me, Miss and Mister. The Goddess will see you right now.” With a bow, the receptionist turned around and departed through the central door, leading Fidelity and Li down a corridor lined with a red carpet and lined with unmarked doorways. At its end awaited a door painted in purple and coated in gilt. Reverently, the receptionist grasped the door handle, then traced a circle around the goddess’ symbol on the door. A flash of light emanated from it, and moment’s later, a rich, sensual voice spoke out from the inside. “Don’t keep me waiting. Come inside...” The Goddess of the Nepenthe was alone inside her chamber, resting on a divan at the center of the room. She held a book of poems by the famed Bai Hsu in her hand, which she carefully set aside as the guests came in. She wore a dress of purple and and white that clung to her figure tightly, save for the shoulder pads that provided a hint of hidden strength. Her pale face was a masterclass on the understated use of power and wealth, with gold dust and light makeup accentuating her eyes and lips, and pendants of amethyst and gold hanging from her ears. Just before she turned to look at her visitors, her face stood relaxed in distant focus, gentle and attentive — and then, sharpness overtook her features as she raised a hand in indolent greeting to her visitors. “Apologies for interrupting you, Mistress. These are—” “The Lady Ceto and Doctor Fara Li. I am aware. You can leave us now, Kei,” she said, the greeting turning into a dismissal in one fluid motion. Her servant bowed, and hurriedly departed. Only once the door was closed did the Goddess continue. “Mmm.” A perfectly manicured violet nail rested against her gilded lower lip as she considered them. “I don’t recall asking for anyone’s presence today. Let’s set aside how you got in here without causing a ruckus for now, shall we? Tell me what brings you here and we’ll see if I’m in the mood to bestow blessings today.” “And we did not ask for this ’tournament’,” Fidelity said, “yet here it is. Such are the vicissitudes of fate. Greetings, Aurea Linnea. We would speak to you of the folly that has been visited upon our city.” A wide grin pulled up the corners of the goddess’ lips. “And what a grand folly it is, isn’t it? The entire city in upheaval, every single plan disrupted...anarchy under our very noses, enforced from on high! It’s enough to keep anyone entertained for the foreseeable future. I really must extend my commendations to the Deliberative. They’ve managed to create a magnificent mess, and all without setting foot into our fair city.” “It is grand entertainment,” Fidelity said, “provided that one has the luxury of observing it as such. Alas, we do not, and so must needs concern ourselves with the proceedings and their outcome.” “One does not preclude the other, darling,” the goddess said, as she reached out to pick up a few dates from a nearby plate. “Great upheavals like these are so traumatic, all you can do is laugh at them or cry. I happen to think laughter’s a better medicine than tears, and I’m sure your friend here would agree too. Now, as far as the tournament is concerned, what do you plan to do about it? It’s not exactly part of my, mmm, jurisdiction.” “It’s not? I had heard rumors to the contrary,” Li said, speaking up for the first time. “Or at least that you had planned to make an exception in this case.” He was more unnerved at being recognized than he’d like to admit, but he hid it well. “Oh, there’s always rumors,” the goddess said, flipping a stray lock of hair back into place. “To hear mortals tell the tale, I run a convent of nuns who moonlight as assassins, secretly wrested the title of Goddess of Commerce from its previous owner at a game of cards just a few months ago, and am currently in the middle of a sinful, oh-so-ardent relationship with the Immaculate Abbess.” She flashed them a bright smile. “Rumours tell all sorts of tall tales, love. You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.” “...which is why we came to ask you directly,” Fidelity said. “Do you intend to participate in this tournament?” “My, how pushy...but I suppose there’s no harm in confirming what will become known to all come tomorrow.” Sitting up a little straighter, the goddess took a moment to arch her back before continuing. “As a matter of fact, I am going to join the tournament, yes. My fee’s already been paid, and tomorrow my name will be added to the rolls of players automatically qualified to participate in the main tournament. Why would a couple as odd as yourselves be interested in this, though? The Nepenthe is not exactly one of your regular stomping grounds, after all.” “Are we so odd?” Li asked with one of his winningest smiles. “Surely you see all sorts of couples coming and going. Ceto and I share similar interests in promoting wellness and have been exchanging techniques- I’m sure the details would bore you to tears- but actually we had hoped to ask you about the Nepenthe more generally because while it isn’t our regular stomping grounds now, once the tournament’s purse is in the process of distribution… Let’s just say that the hospital is very interested in how things are going to change, in order to best serve the citizenry of course, and we thought there was no better person in the city to ask about that than the goddess of the Nepenthe.” Read Intentions! 6 sux on 15 dice, exactly enough for the threshold. The subtle furrowing of the Goddess’ brow told Li that Aurea Linnea was anything but convinced about his claims. As a doctor, and thus master anatomist, it was easy for him to tell that she was not yet tense enough to be suspicious of the purity of their motives...but she was a stone’s throw away from asking some very, very pointed questions. Her violet eyes fell onto him like a leaden weight, and for a moment, he could see the goddess trying to piece a possible truth behind their visit… One good scout deserves another. Suspicious about Li’s excuse, Linnea spends 8m to add 3 successes to her Read Intentions action, plus 1wp for one success. Li defends by raising his Guile to 6 and then to 7 with Shadow Over Day, for a total of 3m, but the goddess gets 12 successes, pitching a piercing question at him: “What truly motivates you to barge into my house uninvited?”. Li’s answer, for lack of a more pertinent intimacy, is ‘Loyalty to ??? (the Cult of the Illuminated)’. Even someone as adept at hiding his secrets as Li could not easily deny the Goddess of the Nepenthe. “You really shouldn’t waste a lady’s time with excuses, honey,” she whispered in his ear. How had she managed to close the distance between them so quickly? “We both know the hospital doesn’t have a single reason to look into a locale so far away from home. If you wanted to expand, it’d make far more sense to venture into the Heart or the Storehouses, not the little playground for the forsaken I hold court at.” She placed a single finger on his shoulder, then slowly slid it up his neck towards his cheek. “I don’t mind people keeping quiet and not answering questions, as you two have since you came in. This house was built for discreet conversations, after all. But telling lies? That’s over the line. Why don’t you and your darling come clean now and us all the trouble of security coming in to escort you out? Maybe we can still have some…fun together, after all.” On his cheek, her finger lingered, as light as a feather, yet so hot it burnt like fire. “He speaks no lie.” The proverbial feather became leaden; fire turned to ice. The tone of ‘Lady Ceto’ was polite as ever, but now there was a force behind it. “Our hospital’s concerns are as many as the troubles afflicting our city, with which you are intimately-familiar. Even the most-recent troubles, it seems - enough that you are willing to risk Immaculate censure to involve yourself. We had hoped to learn why, for the answer surely portends much of concern.” She wasn’t buying it, any of it, and Fidelity had only dug the hole deeper. Li gulped. “Expansion isn’t the reason, you’re right,” he said. “I’m not a man who enjoys dancing around falsehoods, my lady. Perhaps it would be best…” he sighed. “There are things that we cannot say, but you deserve more of the story than we’ve offered. I suppose it’s clear enough by now that we’re representing an interested party, one that prefers to remain nameless. That party seeks to know what Lady Ceto has asked, and anything else you can tell us about the Dragon’s plans for the city. Our goal is simply to make sure that Falling Ashes is the actual benefactor in all of this, rather than a cover for the money to be funneled into the pockets of yet another High House funding yet another war somewhere in the satrapies… I hope that you can forgive us the veil of secrecy, given the might of our opponents. We had hoped to find allies in this endeavor, other interested parties, you might say.” Here he smiled up into her eyes and though Fara Li was not a match for her beauty he still had a way about him. Gently he rested his hand against hers, still on his cheek. “If you’d still like to have a little fun, that is.” “Better,” the goddess said, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “Much better.” The slight smile on her face was as comforting as a ray of sunshine now, a far cry from the danger Li had seen in her eyes mere moments ago. “A single truth attracts more interest than a thousand lies, honey. Now that we’re past that awkward phase of courtship where everyone’s trying to draw interest out without committing to anything, let’s talk a little more openly, shall we?” Delicately, Linnea withdrew her hand from Li’s grasp and moved towards a nearby glass table, beckoning Li and Fidelity to follow her. Upon it was a game of Gateway, along with a stack of missives as tall as the visitors’ forearms. “It’s no secret that the tournament is a danger to my position,” the goddess began, tapping the top of a general piece, adorned with a little purple bow. On all sides, enemy pieces surrounded it, some near, some far. “You’d think that whoever won the tournament would have to seek my favor to perform whatever renovations they desired, but the stakes of the game have changed that. Have either of you ever stopped to consider just how much capital the funds allocated to the restoration of the Nepenthe represent? It’s not a simple reconstruction fund, darlings. With so many dinars, any functionary can be bribed, any prying immaculate monk redirected, and thousands upon thousands of prayers bought to secure the cooperation of any god.” Her soft, honeyed tone turned harsh and venomous at the last few words, but only for a moment. When she continued, her voice was as melodic as before. “The prize is more than a sum diverted from the Realm’s coffers. It is the Realm, and all of its authority, in every way that matters. So as you can see, it is a simple matter of survival. If the lovely goddess standing before you cannot secure these funds for herself...” With a deft motion, the goddess of the Nepenthe unraveled the ribbon on the general piece and clenched her fist. When she opened it, a fine purple dust fell away. “...She’ll be crushed, and that will be that. And now you know why I wish to join this tournament, darlings. I know you wish to hear stories about my prospective enemies as well, but it’s so dull to talk for hours on end when well-accompanied. Why not share something of what you know as a show of good faith now, hmm?” “Very well,” Fidelity said, then turned to Li. “Dr. Li, would you be so kind as to give us some privacy?” She smiled in a manner that tried for ‘disarming’ but on her was just unsettling. “I wish to speak to the goddess, woman to woman.” It was a little condescending, but the only way that Li could pretend ignorance, and of the two of them he was the better at such deceptions. Also if Linnea’s hands went any lower on his person Fidelity might have to bite her. Li bowed his head graciously, though privately he hoped she knew what she was asking. He gave Aurea Linnea a longing look. “If I must,” he said as he moved to leave. “Such is the way of things in these uncertain times. We keep secrets even among colleagues.” “Interesting…” The goddess of the Nepenthe didn’t so much whisper as she purred. “Go with our blessing, then, our little honey. We’ll call for you as soon as this little interlude is done.” Rather than wave him goodbye, she blew him a kiss on his way out. The door slid shut.
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Dec 27, 2020 02:59
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Girl Talk Scene: Aurea Linnea's private quarters, Nepenthe District “Oh, Aurea…” Fidelity’s sigh trailed off into a lengthy, sibilant exhalation, echoed by the serpents that now made up her hair. Her sandals fell to the floor as her feet vanished from within them, replaced by heavy coils with amber scales that matched her jewelry. Bands of silver zigzagged across her dorsal scales, running opposite the natural pattern for an adder and dividing it into diamonds; inside the diamonds, more silver formed mandala designs, each unique to its square. “And you scold me for taking liberties?” She smiled again, baring her venom-dripping fangs and her forked tongue. “You did ask for a show.” “My, my…” the Goddess murmured, leaning in for a closer look. “It’s been a while since I saw one of your kind...I didn’t know the insurrectionists had any interest in our little city. This does explain some things, though...the ever-present bravado, the simplicity of your disguises...and of course, that temper.” She glanced at the door, curiously. “Does the little doctor know? Or is he being carelessly deceived, soon to be thrown away once he’s served his purpose?” “What I tell my doctor is a matter of private confidence,” Fidelity said firmly. “And you are no-one to speak of discarding others.” “Oh?” The goddess asked, her amethyst eyes narrowing imperceptibly. “And why is that?” “I have seen your own supplicants within the city. I have tasted the slow, grinding death that awaits them, heard them offer prayers to you even as their lungs fail and their voices desert them. That doctor whose fate so concerns you risks much to save them. I risk much to save them.” Behind translucent lids, Fidelity’s lethal eyes narrowed. “You want honesty? Very well - we have come to learn what you would risk for them, or if you are like all the other raitons come to peck at their carcasses. One, we would welcome as the victor. The other…” She looked directly into the Aurea’s eyes, filmy membranes all that stood between the goddess and that terrible power. “So. Please, o wise divinity. Enlighten me.” The goddess let out a derisive snort. “Of course my people suffer. This city is condemned. You wish to talk of slow, grinding death? This city’s true face is nothing but death.” Linnea’s arm swept backward, seizing several letters, then swung back until they were pointed at Fidelity, like a blade. “Open them. See for yourself what blessings I can give my people in the face of so much hopelessness.” Each letter was heavy in Fidelity’s hands. When she opened the first one, she glimpsed a bulky parchment — and underneath it, a thinner sheaf of papers that bore breakdowns of several houses, floor by floor. Blueprints. ”Hear me, Goddess. By this oath do I swear to bring prosperity to my syndicate, my family, and myself. I depart for the Foundation tomorrow night, seeking fortune, and will return with it or not at all. I do not ask for your assistance tomorrow. Let my own skills determine my future. But tonight, I beseech you, grant me the tools I require to prepare for this ordeal. For them, I pay a price in blood now, and sweat later. If this prayer pleases you, allow me to be your hands some day, when you have need of me.” “Go with our blessing, child. May your skills shine as brightly as your convictions underneath the moonlight tomorrow.” Both the prayer and its reply bore the same handwriting, curvy and sinuous. Someone had taken pains to transcribe them together. The next letter likewise featured an exchange, bearing the goddess’ symbol at the bottom, and a sack full of jingling coin. ”Goddess, if you are listening, help me. Help me, please! I cannot work any longer. That little rich slime took everything from me. None of my customers will take me now, with this scarred face, these broken hips. For years I’ve worked tirelessly in your name. If my service was worth anything, then please take care of your poor servant now, I beg of you!” “Venus’ Gospel holds what you seek. Speak to the manager there, and show him this letter. There will be compensation, and perhaps, justice.” The last letter was the lightest. “My goddess, I just wanted to tell you I finally worked up the courage to ask Javi to marry me. He said yes! We don’t need any special boons or blessings, but I just wanted to say thank you, for looking over us every day. If you can hear me, I hope you’ll smile upon us on our wedding day too.” “I hear you, little one, and your happiness brightens my day. This gift for the both of you is my acknowledgement of your sincerity. Go with my blessing, and may each turn of the season serve only to enhance the strength of your union.” Accompanying the parchment was nothing more than a pair of golden rings, with sapphires embedded upon them. “...you keep these,” Fidelity said at last, weighing each missive carefully. “You show them to me, even knowing that they could drat you.” She shifted on her coils, turning to face Aurea Linnea. “I apologize. It seems that I misjudged you. You are no hollow idol.” “Pff, don’t mention it, darling.” Aurea Linnea said, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m the goddess of thieves and whores. That kind of office comes with a certain stigma and reputation. Playing into it makes some things easier to achieve. I wouldn’t say no to some doctors and nurses working a few shifts in my district if your claims earlier were serious, by the way. The Graveyard’s clinics are so full my people die in the streets, waiting for their turn to receive treatment. That is a failure to protect my own that I am guilty of.” Her demeanor was casual, and yet from the way her fists clenched as she spoke, Fidelity could tell the goddess was deeply dissatisfied by her lack of power to control the diseases that ravaged the Nepenthe. “This tournament will be the ruin of the Nepenthe. I can feel it. But if it is to fall, it won’t be because I stood idly by and let it happen.” “Nor I,” Fidelity said, her snakes stirring restively. “Doctor Li is indeed a great physician, and I am a skilled sorceress, but there is more to be done here than palliative care. I will not see our city entrusted to tyrant nor reaver.” “They’ve loomed like monstrous shadows over the city since before I took office, sixty years ago,” said the goddess, nodding in agreement. “But there isn’t a better ruler in sight, either. The City’s maintained its independence for so long only because of their incompetence and the sheer number of interests invested in developing its potential. Do you have a more suitable candidate? If I emerged from the tournament victorious, sweet little Felicity would first become apoplectic and then seek to drag me to the temples in shackles to burn me at that pyre of hers she loves so much. Even two million dinars is no guarantee of survival against the full fury of the Immaculate Order, if I chose to resist her further.” “The Order is...not what it once was,” Fidelity said, reflecting on her own upbringing. “Its zeal is no longer tempered by justice, mercy, or wisdom...but the Abbess’ grudge against you is truly something extraordinary.” She actually smiled a little at that. “I seek to gain the measure of each contestant. Ruling out those in favor with either the Deliberative or the Order leaves...very few indeed. Unless I simply supplant them, which for myriad reasons I would rather not.” “It’d be hard to explain discrete trysts with your little doctor if all eyes were on our new persona, for one,” the goddess said, nodding sagely. “What if he found someone else to keep him company while you were busy?” Fidelity’s cheeks blushed black at the suggestion, while her snakes hissed in displeasure. “...Not to mention the, ah, security risks as well,” Aurea continued, smiling cheekily at the reaction she’d managed to elicit. “Anyone backed by a major organization will be expected to use the prize money according to its leader’s dictates, hmm?” “Which brings us to the crux of the matter,” Fidelity said, brushing past her earlier response. “This ‘tournament’ is truly an ill-disguised appointment. If its outcome has already been decided, then we cannot trust that any victory on the stated terms will be honored...not unless we know what strings are attached, and who holds them.” “And that will require allies at the capital. The safest, most secure location in the entire Scarlet Realm...unless a major player can be interrogated, which itself carries its own set of risks. The identity of the candidates postulated by the Great Houses is so secretive, even my rumormongers have been unable to find anything about them. It’s an exhausting impasse, truly...the only saving grace is that the qualifiers will most likely drag on for at least a few days. There’ll be time to pry into their affairs then, after their names are revealed tomorrow, alongside mine.” Aurea’s face twisted into a pout. “Maidens above, what I’d give for even a scrap of information on who sponsored this infernal fiasco. If I had something, anything, I could start working out motives...” “Do the names ‘Nellens Zarghidas’, ‘Tepet Shallya’, or ‘Mnemon Oroth’ mean aught to you?” Fidelity asked, carefully composing herself and hushing her snakes so as not to betray the source of these names. “Zarghidas?” For the first time since they’d begun speaking, Aurea’s composure cracked. A great sorrow overtook her face, lining her beautiful features with lines that could only have come from enduring irreplaceable loss. “It has been so long since I heard his name...I’d heard news of his passing so long ago, soon after he left us...were those reports mistaken? Does he still live?” Hope flickered in her eyes for a moment, uncertain, like the flame of a candle in the wind. “Alas, no,” Fidelity said. “He took his own life in despair over what had become of his city. Shallya put forth the motion in his memory, while Oroth…facilitated its passage for reasons I know not.” “Of course she would have,” Aurea murmured, through gritted teeth. Drawing a deep breath, she composed herself, and soon her previous demeanor was back in place. “Everyone who is at all involved in the Realm’s politics knows of Mnemon’s right hand in the Deliberative. Her being so brazen about backing this bill is enough to provide us with a wealth of information. Tell me, darling, what do you know of House Mnemon’s political situation at the moment?” “Only what is known to all,” Fidelity confessed. “That they suffered a recent embarrassment - a rebellion in the near East - and that Mnemon herself would be Empress. Their local pawns know little,” she added, carrying the implication that she had questioned said pawns, which in turn carried further implications about the nature of such ‘questioning’ that did not bear further discussion. “Good. That means I can skip some of the preliminaries. The first thing you should know is that house Mnemon specializes in construction. If Oroth had not sponsored the bill herself, it is certain another house scion would have. They have the perfect cover for it, after all. ‘It is simply within our responsibilities to oversee such efforts’,” the goddess said, mimicking the cadence of a stuffy imperial dynast impeccably. “Of course, that’s nothing but a ruse. The House has the right of first refusal on any imperial construction contracts. That makes a bill with a massive budget anyone else could win utterly unexplainable from their perspective, does it not? So tell me, why do you think Oroth and her followers in the Senate would pass up a chance to snatch the contract outright?” “I can only imagine that Sesus would not stand for it,” Fidelity guessed. “Mnemon must pretend to make this a contest as she imagines to pretend her claim to the throne is.” “That is a part of it, and yet, it goes deeper than that. The House’s mandate covers all forms of construction, darling, magical ones included. Its geomantic engineers and scholars are second to none. Has it never struck you as odd that the captain of the Geomantic Rapid Response Team belongs to one of the houses that participated in the dispute that caused the Calamity?” “No, that seemed altogether typical to me.” “Good, you have a nose for political plays then. It was a clever call from the Empress to arrange things thus, checking Mnemon’s power by putting the city in the clutches of a house that could not exploit its most prominent feature to its full potential. Should Mnemon seize the contract, not only would it secure a healthy purse for whatever pursuits it desires...it would also secure access to the Five Forces Blossom, and with it, control over the energy supply for the Realm Defense Grid. One of these victories would be enough to tip the balance of power in the House’s favor. Two at once would all but guarantee its ascension in the long term, and thus force an immediate and brutal response from all the other Great Houses.” Pausing for a moment, the goddess breathed deeply as she marshaled her thoughts. “Play the game of politics for long enough and you start to see the moves hidden within moves. The tournament is a way to acquire the contract in a way that won’t spur the other houses into action, but I believe it’s also a stalling tactic. Mnemon does not even seek to win the whole prize of this tournament, I think...the House’s true objective is beyond the city’s outskirts.” Fidelity leaned against her own coils, pondering Linnea’s words. “...She aims to force a contest the others cannot ignore, so that she may pursue her true goals without interruption.” She bared her fangs in anger and disgust. “If you read her motives truly, then we are not even a prize to her. We are a game piece, to be sacrificed like any other on the board.” “Her goal is the entire Realm,” Aurea said, softly. “What is a city to someone with such aims?” “Little indeed, it seems. But she has thrown her accursed apple upon the floor, and our troubles will not be over ere it is claimed.” Fidelity sighed wearily. “Have we any reason to believe that these ‘qualifying’ rounds are more than spectacle?” “No one entering through them is expected to win,” the goddess said, frankly. “This does not mean they could knock out contenders, however. For the most part, though, the qualifiers are meant to serve as an appeasement to the city’s masses, who would look upon the future of their homes being decided without any say-so on their part unfavorably. Falling Ashes has always been an unruly town, after all. As for what might happen if an outsider won the grand prize...that I cannot say. Pure pandemonium, most likely, and a mad scramble to adjust to such an unexpected outcome. It’d be very, very interesting times to live in the city, I think.” “I mean to ask whether such a victory would be honored,” Fidelity explained, “or simply overruled in the customary manner,” the ‘customary manner’ being ‘violence’. “Overt violence? Certainly not. The loss of face would be too great. With every house a contender for the throne or a powerful backer, no one would be foolish enough to expose themselves to reproach so brashly. It would provide the other houses with all the encouragement needed to put them in their place. Assassinations would be another matter entirely, however. Anyone not backed by a major organization the Great Houses could not afford to anger — that is to say, the Guild, the Immaculate Faith, or another similar power — would find themselves dodging knives at all hours without respite, or pressured to align themselves with one of the Houses to help better ‘administrate’ the contract.” “Then the victor must have such backing,” Fidelity mused, “or else the appearance thereof…” Master Lin Zhen would never agree to expose the Illuminated in such a fashion, but if the Illuminated were not an official partner… “Ever must I suffer such intrigues. I shall resume vetting the candidates, then. Luna willing, I might find one who shan’t spell disaster for the city.” “And for my part, I’ll continue to ponder who my backer shall be. Worse comes to worst, I’m certain little Felicity will not object to me dedicating the reconstruction of the district to the glory of the Immaculate Faith, I’m sure.” A mischievous little smile perked up the goddess’ lips as she suggested the idea. “Though let us pray to the heavens above that it does not come down to that. As amusing as it would be, I’m not sure I can stand to stay in the same room as her for more than a few minutes at a time without one of us spontaneously combusting.” “Be cautious with your prayers,” Fidelity said with a matching smile as she shrank back into a human and donned her discarded footwear. “One never knows who might answer.”
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Dec 27, 2020 03:01
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A Marketful of Secrets Scene: Wordweaver’s Alley, Nepenthe District Fiction and song prepared seekers of knowledge for an information market that was a secretive, inaccessible place, full of backstabbing, figures cloaked in shadow, and danger at every turn. Whoever the founder of Wordweaver’s Alley had been had clearly thought all that to be inexpressibly silly and tacky. What awaited Grace (and Rook, once he arrived undetected at the scene) was a market much like any other in the city, with the singular exception that the merchants here peddled not goods, but knowledge. “Interested in staying safe, sire? I’ve got some fresh reports on gang movements within the Nepenthe, I’m sure a discerning man such as yourself can see the value in them...” “The Daoshang Theatre’s soprano cancelled her wedding and has taken on a new paramour overnight! Step inside to find out more!” “Gossip! Get your fresh gossip right here!” It was an embarrassment of riches, truly, right on display for anyone to see. All the two Shining Ones had to do was find the right source for what they were looking for. @AnonymousIdiot, you rolled 1,1,5,5,7,7,10 for a total of 4 successes Grace could make out glances from behind the cloth, fleeting and unfocused. He saw no signs of the Goddess at first glance, nor of a contention. Only trouble would be with the two brokers the augur recommended if things got out of hand, Yunru and Lizeh. Between the best and second best, Grace felt inclined to pick what Jacek recommended. It did not take long to find Lizeh’s information shop. Surprisingly, it looked like a restaurant, with lots of customers dining inside. Once in a while, a waiter would call out a number, and the clients would stand up and head for a backroom. As soon as Grace and Rook came in, they were escorted to an empty table and offered menus. Not long after they made their orders, their water returned. “Mrs. Lizeh will see you now.” Lizeh’s backroom was arranged in the style of a late Shogunate-era tearoom, with comfortable cushions on the floor for guests to sit at and a small tea table that dominated the center of the room. The rumormonger was seated on the other side of it, a warm smile on her rotund face as she beckoned them in. “Sorry to keep you away from your dinner, dears! We’ll make sure it stays warm until you can come back to it. Business has been booming lately, so we’re trying to take care of our customers as quickly as possible. Now, what can old auntie Lizeh help you with today?” “Oh, I think I understand. We hope not to take up too much of your time…. Auntie. We have some questions about a specific person.” Grace said. “Ask away then! Helping my clients understand things is what I’m here for,” said the rumormonger, accompanying her words with a magnanimous wave of her bejeweled hand. “Well… we’re wanting to know more about one Ilscha Kalina.” “Oho! So you want to learn about a philanthropist? What’s on your mind about her specifically?” Grace thought about it. May as well follow the path laid before them. “Does she do business here often? The Alley I mean?” “Lady Ilscha? Oh no, perish the thought. She’s respectable! She’d never be caught dead getting info on scandals and gossip personally.” It was a coy response, vague and prone to multiple meanings. Clearly, Lizeh was not willing to divulge this information that easily. ’In that case, does Ilscha have intermediaries? Or do people come to her?’ Sensible questions, but too direct. “Does coming here really earn you a dark look from others? It seems like a nice place.” “Oh, not quite, sweetheart, but it does create rumors. And rumors that form here soon spread throughout the entire city. Now people like you and me might not mind that so much, but it would not do for a member of the Old Lines to have rumours floating about her. There’s the appearance of propriety to maintain. And so, she does not set foot in this market. Does that help make things a little clearer?” Lizeh asked, taking a sip of her piping-hot tea as she studied Grace intently, curiosity dancing in her eyes like a fluttering butterfly. He wonders if perhaps he just offered a rumor of his own, or perhaps the setup for a joke. “I… I think I understand, but I’m a tad curious about one thing… Would something like this be dangerous to know in the market?” “Oh no, it wouldn’t be a danger at all to know about this, sweetheart. What would be dangerous is if word got out that we were telling on our own visitors at the drop of a hat. Who would visit an information broker knowing their own questions could be used against them, hmm?” Lizeh explained patiently. “Of course, that doesn’t mean we can’t say things about our clients...but we’d be poor hosts if we broke their trust in us not to share things spoken in confidence, that’s all.” Grace frowned at that, but only for a second. “Right… In that case… I’m curious to know why people think she has a secret child.” “That’s a question with an answer buried deep in the past, you know? Lady Ilscha grew up all alone in a great big manor, with no one but servants to keep an eye on her. Her family business was handled by retainers, so she had no aim and no goals to keep her busy. So she did what most people without guidance did, and turned to partying. She changed her tune many years ago...but still, rumours circulate, particularly for someone whose life turned around so much when she got religion. Might be that there’s no smoke without fire in cases like these, might not. But most rumours die off within the span of weeks. This one’s survived for years. Make of that what you will.” “Bless me, that sounds fantastic! Wouldn’t that child no longer be a child, and out in the streets? Otherwise, I’d wonder if people carry a torch for her these days.” “That’s right. Lady Ilscha’s party girl days are decades gone. If she did have an illegitimate child, that child would be an adult by now, and responsible for their own fate.” ’Why then does she visit an orphan for six years if she clearly isn’t her child?’ That question came, but Grace didn’t ask that. “If that’s the case, why do people spread this rumor? It seems like such people want her to know people still disparage a side of her she left behind… Had she?” “Oh yes, she certainly has. A lot of eyes were on her during the early days after she found the Immaculate Faith. No one could find any fault in her actions,” Lizhe explained, before pausing to grab a biscuit. “As far as anyone can tell, her change in mindset was total. And yet...you could say it’s too sincere. She spends so much more time in the slums than back in the Foundation, even compared to the other Envoys of Peace she labors with. That level of dedication had people asking questions...and that’s how that old rumor sustained itself through the years. Suspicions, little pieces that didn’t quite add up...but nothing definitive to tie them together.” Grace took one as well. Having gone straight to work without so much a cup of tea or a slice of kasseri, he would find some small comfort. “Hmm, in that case, do the powers that Be care, regardless of what people think? Or perhaps approve of what the Lady Ilscha does?” “I’d say they do, but not in the way you might think. While Lady Zina makes sure that the actions of her Envoys do not go unrecognized, and the Immaculate Order has expressed its fervent approval of their relief efforts, Lady Ilscha’s work is rarely mentioned. She alone keeps a very low profile amongst her peers.” “Really?” “Really,” Lizeh said, nodding. “Another one of those little things that don’t quite add up. Even some of the other more reclusive Envoys take pride in their work, but not her!” “Why is that?” This struck Grace as curious. “Does she do more for the queen alongside charity?” Lize chortled. “Calling her a queen might be taking her husband’s nickname too seriously,” she said, her large eyes twinkling with mirth. “But yes, Lady Kalina and Lady Zina are close. Very close. Zina was the one who converted her to the Immaculate Faith, and since then, they’ve been confidantes to each other. If anyone has the Jewel Amidst the Ashes’ deepest trust, then Lady Kalina might very well be the one.” “Hmmm… if that's the case, if the Lady Ilscha entered a certain Gateway tournament, would it be out of charity, or because the Jewel asked her to?” At that point Grace had to be bolder in these questions and he knew it. “Ahh...so that’s the real question here.” There was a note of approval in Lizeh’s voice now. “Knowing the Envoys, it’s unlikely any of them would choose to participate in the tournament simply because someone told them to. I suspect Lady Kalina must’ve had her own reasons to join. At the same time, however, I don’t think Lady Zina would ever pass up the chance to support her. She wants what’s best for the Nepenthe, and having the ear of the potential tournament winner is certainly a way to ensure that comes to pass. So let’s say it most likely began as the first, and has become the latter, shall we?” “Oh, of course!” Grace nodded at that. “But if we assume that, would it be fair to assume as well that Duc Jiang may involve himself with his wife’s requests? It seems unusual for him not to enter personally.” That man was Zina’s husband, and considering the rumors he heard, Grace couldn’t help but wonder what other priorities he had to ignore this tournament. “Not necessarily.” The mention of Duc Jiang was enough to make Lizeh’s face turn deadly serious. “You must understand, child, Ledaal Zina and Duc Jiang live in different worlds in spite of sharing a house, a bed, and a life together. They carry on existences that should lead them to conflict that they’ve managed to reconcile in a way only those closest to them understand. It’s perfectly possible that the King Amidst the Ashes is working together with his wife to advance his agenda, but if so, it will only be because she’s asked him to, and for reasons that may not necessarily match his own.” She tapped a wooden spoon against her teacup, lightly, and fixed him with a piercing stare. “You have an air of inexperience around you, so listen to me well now. It is a common mistake to think that one of Duc Jiang and Zina must be the lesser half of their relationship, and subordinate to the other. That mistake is fatal. Many have thought they could anticipate their moves by predicting how one would back the other up, and none were in good enough shape afterwards to tell the tale. Learn from their mistakes, whatever your goals might be. Do not play into their hands so carelessly.” Grace straightened in his seat. He did not expect this to be so personal or serious. And his mind flashed back to something from Last Moment of Clarity. ”War wounds warriors and worriers alike. The young, and old do not need to have fought on the frontlines, nor lost a loved one in battle, to find themselves changed by war, and carry it with them wherever they go. And the ones who keep living, whether they forget that weight or not, will always have something that brings them back to that war, and relive what they distance themselves from.” Grace swore he saw a wound, one Lizeh must have remembered, and he just put his foot in it. He had to find that wound, and to steer away from it. AnonymousIdiot rolled 2,2,2,5,5,7,8,9 for a total of 4 successes, including a 2 point stunt! “I beg your pardon, auntie Lizeh. I hear you and I will be mindful of all you’ve said. These two people have their own agendas that do not make them naturally cooperate or subservient with each other. That others assumed otherwise and were ruined by this…. I’m grateful for this information, but I’d like to know if there may be another reason.” “You think I have ulterior motives, dear? Perish the thought. I’m an information broker. My word is my bond, I’ll have you know!” She tut-tutted at Grace with a finger for a moment, and then took a sip from her cup. “...The youth always think one piece is enough to unravel the greater whole,” she said, quietly, as she put down her tea. “And the times they’re right by chance or by skill just serve to convince them the pattern will always hold. But they don’t. The world loves nothing more than sprinkling in random chaos when you least expect it. There was this girl who worked for me once that...ahh, but listen to me rambling now. It doesn’t matter, really. I’m not here to scold you, sweetheart. Do you have anything else you wish to ask of me?” Grace reveals one of Lizeh’s intimacies. “???, My Protegé” (Major). Grace felt a pang of sympathy. It sounded like a sad story the way she spoke. But he was grateful they moved on. He helped himself to a cup, hoping the taste can distract from the tone. “Right… Well, I do wonder if she may have other matters on her plate besides the Tournament and her good work. I’d be at a loss to keep with other matters if something like this could bleed into my day-to-day.” A bit of a ramble crept in there. “How appropriate that you mentioned day-to-day affairs, actually. Lady Kalina’s been quite busy with her family’s business as of late, acting as a ‘fixer’ for the other noble houses for all sorts of problems. Business has boomed with the announcement of the tournament, as you can imagine — and with everyone uncertain of who to trust, institutions with a proven track record such as the Ilscha family are a hot commodity right now. I imagine she must know quite a bit about the things the Old Lines wish to keep secret.” Lizeh sighed, wistfully. “What I’d give for a chance to sit down and have some tea and biscuits with her for an hour...my business would boom just as much as hers if I got that chance.” ‘Bless me, I’m surprised she could keep it all straight!’ Grace couldn’t help the stunned surprise on his face, and his head started to hurt trying to think over Ilscha’s position. This priestess was depending on her reputation to keep herself above suspicion, yet Grace couldn’t get a sense of what she would be acting from. Then Grace blinked. “Oh, I just thought of something…” He paused to take a sip from his tea. It was starting to cool. “If what you say is true...would these ‘suspicions’ you’ve mentioned of Ilscha include speculation on whatever business she has with others, or attempts to parse that out?” “You catch on quick,” Lizeh said, approvingly. “Yes, Lady Kalina’s business helps to make her a kaleidoscope figure. Everyone sees things that don’t quite add up, but can’t fully agree on what they are. And so, in spite of being a source of much gossip, few facts have been established about her.” “Hmm, I don’t envy her position. Having so many eyes would leave me in quite a state. I can’t imagine that she’d feel safe talking to anyone, or letting matters be. What’s to say the speculation stops there, right?” Another sip, and his stare lingered on what tea that’s left. As valuable as checking over Jacek’s information may be, mentioning the orphan, Grace thought, would bring too much attention, and tie their names to Ilscha. But the more Lizeh has said, the more Grace is questioning if the orphan may carry a trap. “Which is why she maintains such a low profile, and so few truly count themselves as her friends.” The rumormonger nodded knowingly. “Careful, careful, careful. Lady Kalina has come a long way from the days of her youth.” “Another critical mistake that people have made in the past?” While waiting for Lizeh to answer, Grace worked over what she had said so far on Ilscha. He was pretty sure he could rule some things out about Jacek’s notes, see what it all meant. @AnonymousIdiot, you rolled 4,4,10,10 for a total of 4 successes ’At this point I have to wonder if there’s something else at the orphanage Ilscha visits... he can’t possibly be the only reason to visit for six years… but what is it?’ “You wouldn’t be half-bad as a rumormonger yourself, sweetheart,” Lizeh said. Her eyes fell upon him, analyzing him in a new light. “Wouldn’t happen to be a new arrival scouting out the competition, would you?” “Hmmm? Oh, not at all… I forget sometimes what’s acceptable in Gem might not be as appropriate here. You’re always staring down fortune there, waiting for it to blink.” Another drink, and a blink. Here Grace and Rook were, puzzling out a statue of a woman with information and affairs a secret to all, while the rest of the city’s in a state to regain their bearings. “Ah… And now it seems fortune’s too bright to look in the eye for most people...” “We shall see. The city’s seen too many twists of fortune to be certain until everything blows over. Sometimes, I think we are the casino of the gods, and they make bets on the outcome of our endeavors.” Lizeh took one last sip of her teacup, then set it aside. “Will that be all, then?” Grace gave one last look at the cup, before putting it down. “At this point, I think I’ll need to pay someone a visit. Beg your pardon, I’ve wasted your time on something that seems so trivial, and I’m left wondering if I’ve been set up for a laugh. How much do I owe you for this time and these questions?” “For today? Pff, nothing except the cost of your tea, sweetheart. You’re new to the city and it’s your first visit to the market. What kind of host would I be if I asked you to pay?” Lizeh said, waving a hand to dismiss the idea. “If you insist on paying, then visit me again sometime in the next few days and let auntie know how Falling Ashes is treating you. That’s the most I can ask for.” “We most certainly will! Thank you so much, and good morning auntie!” What money Grace had with him before coming to the city seemed to be enough to pay her.
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Dec 27, 2020 03:05
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Noodles With a Side of Gossip Scene: Grandfather’s Stand, Rooftops of the Nepenthe After the Shining Ones departed, Boulder’s surveillance of the Candlemakers’ Guild continued with no further incident as the hours passed. The workers departed near sundown, but the flashes of light coming through the holes in the rooftop continued at irregular intervals. As night fully fell, however, the sound of heavy boots slamming down on the cobblestones caught his attention. Another fang of legionnaires arrived, which was not so unusual, but what was remarkable was who led them -- an ill-tempered woman, with heavy bags visible underneath her eyes even in the poor lighting, who carried a double-bladed daiklave of blue jade. As she approached the entrance, the legionnaires manning it respectfully stepped aside. She left her guard with them, with a curt hand gesture and no words. It seemed Sesus Dikona, captain of the Geomantic Rapid Response Squad and representative of the Imperial Legions in Falling Ashes, had some business with Mu Min Cho, and a quick fly-by near the Grandmaster Spider’s office window a few minutes later confirmed that the most influential guild-head in the city had indeed met with the captain and was listening to her grievances. She looked just about ready to bite someone’s head clean off, yet even so, Mu Min Cho was unperturbed. The office was soundproofed, however — Boulder could not make out their words, even though he strained his senses to the utmost. Still, it was one more nugget of information to add to what he’d learned that day. Now, it was time to rendezvous with the Shining Ones, and see what they’d managed to find. --- Fortunately for the Shining Ones, the meeting spot they’d arranged to discuss the day’s findings happened to be close by within the Nepenthe. When the Calamity blackened the skies and rent the earth asunder, many streets became blocked with rubble, to the point of untraversability. Locked within their own streets, the people of Falling Ashes were forced to find new pathways through the districts they called home — and one of the first solutions was to take advantage of the city’s sheer building density to move from roof to roof, circumventing the ground entirely. Such was the practicality of this method of travel that, after reconstruction efforts began, sections of the city’s rooftops were sectioned out for public use, not just in the event of an emergency but also to alleviate certain chronic traffic bottlenecks. And naturally, where crowds passed, businesses sprang up. Neji, better known as Grandfather, was one of the earliest adopters. A lifelong noodle salesman, he quickly realized that his humble house’s rooftop was situated at a prime location connecting the Heart and the Nepenthe, and promptly transferred his cart upwards with the help of his son in law and the neighbors. What seemed like a madcap decision turned out to be a brilliant combination of easy advertising thanks to literally shouting his wares from the rooftops, relief for his aging bones by minimizing the amount of ground he needed to cover each day, and an uncontested niche due to early adoption. Of course he had to ‘persuade’ the black helms that his stand and stools did not, in fact, violate the new regulations on what constituted sufficient space to preserve the right of way on the rooftop route, but what were some free noodles in exchange for an untapped market such as this one? His humble business had boomed, and when he came down that accursed ladder during quiet nights, he could rest easy knowing that when his time came, he would leave a prosperous business behind for his daughter and her children to take care of. But his time had not come yet, and tonight was not a quiet night. Tonight, his stand had plenty of visitors. One of the traits that distinguishes the master restaurateur from the merely good is the ability to create the atmosphere of neutrality and sacred space that allows one to sell one’s wares to the widest possible clientele. Grandfather Noodle, as he was sometimes referred to when clarification was needed about which Grandfather was under discussion, had long ago mastered this art. No matter who you were, if you were walking by, you could be served without question. (In practice, this meant very few of the wealthy were served, but when they did appear, they were served with the same respect given to all customers.) For a beastfolk in a city of humans, this aspect of Grandfather Noodle’s stand was a true blessing. The community was careful not to abuse Grandfather's hospitality by visiting en masse, but having a place where two or three beastfolk could sit and talk or merely watch the crowd walk by had been a ray of light for the beastfolk in a very dark place. When Boulder had seen the others making their way to the noodle stand, he’d abused the power of flight to arrive slightly ahead of the others so he could eat his noodles and crickets (Grandfather was also wise enough to ask after the special needs of his regulars.) without exposing his fellows to the slightly messy process that was a snakeman drinking noodle soup. Fara Li was second to the table. He’d taken a moment to change back into his everyday robes and hat, and was feeling much better now that he was out of that failure of a disguise. He slurped his noodles delicately, taking far longer to eat than was necessary, enjoying the salt and seasonings of the simple meal. Where he came from, dinner was a quiet affair and he’d never gotten used to how talkative the people of other places were when it came to mealtimes. Boulder, despite the occasional soup-dribble, was an excellent companion in that sense, and the pair were an island of tranquility amidst the stormy sea of conversations about to occur. Wandering Sun arrived not long after, but was clearly worse for wear. While he’d changed his clothes at an Illuminated safehouse, he definitely looked tired, and he still had the rapidly-healing remains of a long cut down his face. Still, he seemed upbeat as he settled into a seat next to Boulder, bowl piled high with extra noodles. Grace came next, thinking about something and checking behind him for some wandering eyes. He couldn’t wait for his broth and noodles, and put his thoughts to more comfortable things. He lost track of where Rook went, and could only hope he would be fine. He did take notice of Sun’s wound, and had a look of concern. “Is that gonna fade?” Sun looked more embarrassed than anything when his wound was mentioned. “Yes, it looks far worse than it is. It was, ah, self-inflicted, so it’s not too deep.” Sun was hardly poker-faced at the best of times, but the circumstances of the cut were clearly more awkward than dangerous. “Hmm…” Grace nodded with sympathy but the Solar in him had something to say. “That sounds like quite a story.” Wandering Sun stared down at his noodles for a moment. “Yes, it was...I’m not terribly good at these sorts of secretive missions. There were probably better ways to handle it, but I’m sure I will hear it from Master Zhen.” A small pot of tincture appeared next to Sun’s plate. The ointment inside was cool to the touch and had a minty scent, and would take any sting out of the superficial wound and help to prevent scarring. Li sat back on his stool, drinking his green tea without a word, eyes smiling. “Oh, I’m sure the master will, but I’m not sure I understand. Could you perhaps start from the beginning?” asked Grace. Wandering Sun paused for a while, scarfing down a big pile of noodles as he collected his thoughts. “I...thought that the best way to discover what other forces might be up to in this strange time would be to join them. I found a group of ne'er do wells who were protecting their territory and helped them. I learned a great deal, except I ran into conflict with one of our number, and rather than expose my cover, we pretended to fight. This was my attempt at proof.” He prodded at his scab for emphasis. It was healing quickly enough, at least. Grace furrowed his brows and gave a nod. "Whatever was that one doing?" Sun gave Grace a wan smile. “Intervening in a turf war between two rival gangs. I can’t really say he was incorrect.” "Hmmm… I don't quite understand the mistake in that case. Was it not knowing he would show himself there?" “It was not knowing how to investigate in a way that did not involve me participating in a turf war. It was risky - even without the extra fight, there were many places I could have been exposed.” “Not all stories require a hero,” Fidelity remarked. She had, as was her wont, appeared out of nowhere at some time after Li’s arrival, seated across from the doctor with a steaming cup of something dark and floral-smelling in hand. Her expensive garb and jewelry had gone back into the Hidden Flower’s stores, replaced with a simple scholar’s robe in the same style as Li’s, which was the same style as that of anyone on the Isle too learned to be a peasant but too ill-bred to be a patrician. Wandering Sun seemed to realize he was monopolizing the conversation. “But I doubt we have much time for recriminations. Was your task successful?” From his expression, he seemed to take it on faith that Grace had. "Ah, right. I believe we have a picture of the Lady Ilscha, and we might have a lead for a more private dealing of hers." He took a moment to slurp down a scoopful of noodles before disclosing the visits to Jacek and the Alley. “At least… that’s the impression I got. If you would like to know more, I’ll be glad to answer any questions.” “Looks different from each direction you look at her. Hmmm. Natural suspicion is that fervent Immaculate winning would be bad for Aurea. Yet reason to doubt tale of fervency. Maybe moves us slightly away from ‘supporting’, but not enough to reach ‘opposing’,” mused Boulder. “Oh, I’d like to avoid making her, or her friends into our enemies if I can help it…” Grace paused to slurp down some more noodles. “That said, knowing more of her will require that we look into how she does her work here. As of now, the orphanage is one option. Approaching her house staff is another, though that comes with its own risks and rewards.” “I am coming to suspect that this ‘qualifying’ round is mere theater,” Fidelity sighed, “albeit theater that its authors cannot readily wash their hands of. Let me tell you of the things I have learned.” And so she did (though she had already informed Fara Li), speaking of her candid conversation with Aurea Linnea and the things the goddess had shared with her in confidence. “We do not yet know piece from player,” the No-Moon concluded. “Until we do, I fear that we are fated to be the former.” “Aurea Linnea is not playing to win, only to not lose. This makes her a strong potential ally, but not someone we can throw our weight behind.” Li set down his teacup. “Players need pieces of their own, and the more I learn about the ones on the board, the less I like them. I would like to introduce a wild card, if one can be found in time. A player from the slums, an unknown. Their experiences during the qualifier will tell us much, regardless of their fortunes.” Grace leaned forward, eyebrow raised, and bowl set aside. “One of us?” Li laughed. “Not me, my face is too well known.” He was still sore over the goddess seeing through his disguise so easily. “Do any of us know how to play? Or in our larger group?” Wandering Sun certainly didn’t, so he had no way of knowing whether any of the other Illuminated knew how to play. “With so much money at stake, surely there’s some sort of skill test to join the tourney. Otherwise I don’t know if there’d be a building in the city large enough to hold everyone hoping to qualify.” Grace raised a hand. “Or perhaps they’re looking for sponsored players. If that’s the case, I’d wager that Ilscha and V’neef might be seeking sponsors of their own, assuming they don’t have one already. But regardless, I might volunteer. My next task takes me to the Daosheng theatre anyway.” Grace sank back to his chair returning to his noodle bowl. “Would anyone like to volunteer whatever they’ve discovered?” “I have played a few times. But I have no human shapes yet and would rather not acquire any,” said Boulder. “My news: Sesus Dikona herself visited the Grandfather Spider. She was cross at him. He sat peacefully. I could not hear more.” “Is it unusual for them to meet?” asked Grace. “To meet occasionally, no. To meet enough to not fear their safety during heated discussions, yes, I think. I wonder if burst of power earlier was outside agreed limits and caused geomantic instability the Captain must resolve,” said Boulder. Wandering Sun leaned forward with interest. He didn’t really know where to begin even speculating what they could have argued about, but he knew that it had to be significant. “Has anyone noticed any sudden movements or changes among those working for them? Preparations for anything?” Sun certainly hadn’t, but he’d been a little distracted by his recent duel. Boulder shrugged. “Movements and changes among everyone. I think not enough pieces to speculate further.” Grace chimed in. “Not to get off track, but why would this Spider be involved with this burst?” “It occurred below ground in the center of the guildhall he rules utterly,” said Boulder. “There are magical wards on the guildhall to contain the energy of such power bursts.” “In that case, could… whatever the Spider had done is something Sesus is aware of?” “Yes. Her people are inside the ward.” Grace nodded, saying no more. Whatever those two were doing weren’t in reaction to the Gateway tournament, some other side project… “Suppose if we have enough a reason, we can look further into what joint dealing they have… I think I should ask, what do any of you know about Tepet Shallya? That name was tied to the proposal the Powers that Be passed.” “Absolutely nothing,” Fidelity said, breaking her long silence at last. “And that is just the problem. We grasp at shadows.” Grace leaned forward on the table again, eyes closed and in thought, his noodles half-finished. The Solar needed to speak. “Then we focus on what we can see. We’ve seen two of our three candidates with their own problems to address. Ilscha Kalina is an inscrutable prism that has a fog of speculation around her, and business with an orphanage since six years ago. That is concrete. Linnea Aurea suspects a Mnemon plot in the Gateway Tournament, and positionally speaking is trying to cling to what power and persons she can. And she’s aware of our interest. The last one Vneef Valeth, we know nothing beyond what we’ve found out since we all met in that teahouse.” Grace leaned back into his seat, grabbing his bowl. “If those two disappoint, then it stands that someone among us should look into him in case he’s a better option.” "I agree," Rook interjected, laying a few coins on the counter. He gratefully accepted a bowl of noodles from old Neji, tipping it back and draining it in one gulp. Before anyone could ask how long he'd been listening, he continued: "Regarding Shallya, if I had to venture a guess, I would say that House Tepet is mostly reduced to a catspaw in this case- it would be extremely convenient for both parties if Tepet were to win control, direct or otherwise, of the contract but owe Mnemon for the opportunity." He set the bowl down, furrowing his brow. "Aurea Linnea is a solid ally to chase, but not who we should pin our hopes on, I think; her position is better served not by winning, but by seizing the ear of the winner. We need to look into V'neef Valeth before the qualifiers begin, certainly- if we can ensure an ally wins the qualifiers, that's one more piece we have to play, but we need to know that's what we have." “I would know our enemies before choosing allies,” Fidelity said. She’d been aware of Rook for several minutes, but could not have said how much longer he’d been waiting. The scents of the noodle stand and the shimmering haze of heat from its wok had served to mask most of his presence...but not the sound of his heartbeat. Not that she was going to bring that up. She didn’t want to start any kind of competition with a Night Caste in that regard, and people found it unsettling to know she could hear their heartbeats at any rate. “We should learn of the other contestants,” she concluded. “I believe that our Master Rook has amply demonstrated his capability for the task.” While Fidelity took Rook’s sudden appearance well, Grace shook from his seat, lurching forward to the table, and scrambling to keep up. "Uh… V'neef, or the Daosheng theatre? Or both?" “Wherever the records are kept,” Fidelity answered. “Hmmm… the Theatre it is then. I think, uh…” Grace gestured to Rook and himself, “we were going there afterwards.” “I will look into local players for the remainder of the day,” Li said. Rook’s sudden appearance had been alarming but a doctor had to have a good stoic facade to retreat behind when things went unexpectedly and Li had developed his to perfection long ago. “Nothing wrong with getting as many eyes as we can into the proceedings.” Grace nodded, though a question formed, “Would you be testing them yourself?” Li chuckled. “I will be vetting them as best I can, though I’d wager there are better players among us than I if someone would be willing to provide a final challenge. Would you do them the honors, Grace?” “Hmmm…. Once we get back from the theatre, I’d be glad to…. Where will you be later on?” “If they survive the selection process I think Thousand Glitters Square would be as good a place as we can find. The regulars there will be the primary audience for this tournament, so we might as well see what they think of our chosen candidate.” He stroked his beard thoughtfully. “But where to look for them… It has to be someplace that hasn’t already been picked clean, where someone with the right amount of skill is passing on the opportunity…” He paused a moment, though clearly he had already made up his mind. “My thought is to try the Beast’s Lair first. I’ve seen people playing around the Lime Kiln when I had reason to pass through there.” “I will go along,” said Boulder. “They know me.” “Excellent,” Li said. “Oh, and I have a friend in mind I’d like to talk to before we go. If we’re lucky she can point us in the right direction.” “Is she anyone I know?” Fidelity asked, rather more abruptly than she’d meant to. “Perhaps? Do you know a cockatoo painter named Hallah?” Li asked, oblivious. “Only by reputation,” Fidelity said, hastily composing herself, “but I do admire her work.” “She’s very good,” Li agreed. His brows knit together. “Would you like to come along then? Three of us might be too many eggs in a single basket, given the time constraints…” “It shall have to be another day, alas.” Fidelity shook her head. “My hands will be full setting up the medical station for tomorrow.” And perhaps more than just her own - earth spirits were well-suited to heavy lifting. “In that case, will you be accompanying her?” Grace looked to Sun, though he had a thought about that idea and found it a waste. Sun frowned in thought - he wanted to help the rest of the circle, though it seemed like most of the things they needed were outside his expertise. “I am not entirely sure. I’m doing an investigation of my own, but it’s at the point where I’m just waiting to hear back from people. I can certainly help set up the medical station, but I think I could be doing more...” “In that case, there’s always the orphanage that Ilscha visits. Just knowing about the place itself would inform us going forward if we’re wanting to peer into her motives.” Sun brightened a little as he considered the possibility. “That sounds like a good idea - there’s a lot we don’t know about what’s happening there.” And if he had to ferret things out in a social setting, even Sun had to believe he’d have a fighting chance of outwitting literal children. "And whatever you find will give us something we can work with." Grace nodded. "It's far too soon to rule anything as a misstep." Sun nodded, but the mention of working with information reminded him that he hadn’t actually shared what he’d learned previously. ”Ah, that makes me remember. Have any of you ever heard of a Lady Jaya? She’s apparently the daughter of a local Guild factor.” Boulder shrugged a no. Li thought about it but other than a fleeting sense of having heard the name somewhere before he couldn’t place it. “Sorry, I haven’t.” “I have,” Fidelity said. “She is a cunning and ruthless figure. I have seen some who were once her fiercest rivals reduced to toiling in the mines, so thoroughly did she ruin them.” She then went on to tell of her machinations in some detail - little that was truly secret, but much that was impolite (or unwise) to speak aloud. Fidelity rolls Int+Lore to know facts about Lady Jaya: pre:@Thesaurasaurus, you rolled 1,1,1,4,4,7,8,9 for a total of 3 successes A frown crossed Grace’s face as he listened to Fidelity’s anecdotes, grappling with a thought. “It might be premature, but it looks to me that she’s trying to tackle that contract from the opposite angle. Could Mu Min Cho be aware of her actions here?” “A question best asked once we have more information,” Li said, standing. “Time spent coming up with theories is better spent confirming if they are true, and while dinner was excellent, I have places to be. As do we all, I think.” Grace looked to his bowl, empty, and looked back up. “... Right you are.” “Doctor?” said Boulder to Li with a slight tilt of his head in the direction of The Lime Kiln. Li tucked his hands into his wide sleeves and inclined his head to the group. “Sol favor your hunts, my friends. We will speak again soon.”
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Jan 27, 2021 08:15
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Among Beasts (of Men) Scene: The Lime Kiln, Beasts’ Lair Even when its people slept, Falling Ashes never did. The most the city ever managed was a fitful daydream, squirming and fidgeting as it lost itself in contemplation of what was and what had once been. Few places epitomized this better than the Lime Kiln. Even late at night, work crews labored to extract its liquid treasures, the better to build houses with, and the heavy heat it provided drew in the unfortunate ones who had lost theirs. Those who sleep eluded often visited it to while away the hours, whether by studying the hypnotic patterns of its surface movements, or by seeking out fellow insomniacs to speak with...or, as the case might be, to play games. Though many Gateway parlors within the city refused to serve Beastmen, the Kiln was open to one and all. As such, Boulder and Fara Li found a sizable crowd waiting for them there — and among them, some familiar faces. One of those faces was short-nosed and flat, with large ears and a perpetually anxious expression. Ropta was of the bat-folk, a coin counter and small-time lender, and Li had taken (and repaid) a loan from him when he helped found the Heart’s Beat clinic. Ropta didn’t notice the Shining Ones’ arrival, engrossed as he was in a Gateway game. The Gateway tables were unusually busy for the time of night as hopefuls for the upcoming tournament tried to get in a last few practice games. Li was about to approach him when his companion spoke up. “Better to sleep, be fresh for important game day after tomorrow,” commented Boulder. “If they don’t know how to win already, game or two more won’t help.” The snakeman scanned the square, looking for someone he knew who might be helpful. “There,” he said to Li and pointed across the square at a horned figure sketching the scene, “Dyso is always watching.” “Ah,” Li said. He knew the value of an artist’s eye, though he was surprised to see the man was a minotaur. He chided himself for his own misconceptions. “Very well then. Let’s ask him.” Boulder led Li through the crowd. The Lunar never knocked someone down or pushed them, but he didn’t slow his pace or try all that hard to go around anyone, so Li had a wide corridor to move through in the snakeman’s wake. The pair arrived at their destination, a minotaur focused intently on a piece of paper he had attached to a sturdy board he could hold in his hand. He moved a piece of charcoal quickly across the paper, an impression of the scene in the Kiln forming in its wake. The minotaur noticed Boulder’s approach and smiled, but didn’t pause in his sketching. When the sketch was finished to his satisfaction, Dyso placed it carefully on a stack of similar sketches, then set his board and charcoal aside and rose to his feet. The minotaur stretched his arms wide and cracked his back with a satisfied sigh. The top of Boulder’s head was level with Dyso’s chin and the minotaur had to take care that he didn’t smash his hands on the balcony above. “Anyone actually buying?” asked Boulder. “No,” replied Dyso, “but I couldn’t sleep and can’t afford to drink unless someone buys one. Or ten, maybe,” he said somewhat ruefully. “What do you need?” Boulder gestured Li forward. “You know doctor Li?” “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure,” Li said, offering a hand from his wide sleeve. He was not a tall man to begin with and couldn’t help feeling like a child next to Dyso. Dyso’s hand engulfed the doctor’s. While the back of the arm looked a little bristly, the minotaur’s hand was velvety smooth, warm, and applied just the right amount of pressure. “Charmed,” said Dyso, with a credible attempt at the correct bow for someone two levels lower in prestige than the recipient. “We have never met in person, but your reputation does precede you, Doctor Li. Not every clinic is willing to treat us,” Dyso gestured to the square, “the same as any other patient.” Dyso released Li’s hand, leaving it quite blackened with charcoal dust. “Now, what is it that brings the two of you straight to me tonight? I would guess it is not just a social call.” “You would be right,” Li said, taking a moment to glance at the stack of pictures. The suggestion of form in Dyso’s single dark strokes did more to capture the emotions of the Kiln than many artists could’ve managed with a full set of colored paints. The longer he looked at the sketch the more things he noticed, from the rabbit-eared wife arguing with a tea vendor to the goat-boy lifting a gambler’s pockets in between the Gateway tables. He couldn’t help smiling at that one, wondering if the youth had got away with it. But this wasn’t the time to ask about that. “Tell me, sir, who here tonight has not entered the tournament, though they have the skill if they applied themselves?” “We could spend an hour discussing names, if I started listing candidates with at least a chance of making the knockout rounds. There are those who cannot participate, and those who will not. We filthy beasts struggle to win with the deck stacked against us, you see.” His voice was thick with sarcasm, which stood at odds with his smooth voice. “But even then, there are some who could make a deep run. Old Gen and his apprentice, Alik, are chief amongst them. But of course, it only makes sense that he would not participate. If he showed his face, it is likely the tournament organizers would have him killed on sight.” “Why?” asked Boulder. “Because he served under Ma-Ha-Suchi, before departing his armies over a disagreement. He is a master tactician who more than once held his own against the dragons themselves, and if he’s to be believed, his apprentice will one day be greater than him still. Most beastmen are not allowed to serve in the Realm’s armies as anything more than shock troops and cannon fodder, but he’s still willing to teach the rudiments of strategy to anyone who will listen...through the game of Gateway, that is. ” “Is there reason to think Alik is known?” asked Boulder. “None. He’s a very quiet, unassuming boy. Old Gen would never agree to put him at risk, however. What sort of design do you have on your mind for him?” Dyso asked, curious. “We’re-” Li’s eyes flicked to Boulder. It wasn’t well known that they were friends, and perhaps would be best kept that way. “-that is to say I... am looking for a player without a patron, who might be convinced to join the tournament on my behalf. It’s a bit of a publicity stunt, I admit, but if we can get people talking about a player, they’ll also be talking about their backer, and that could bring in some much needed custom to my clinic. I wouldn’t wish to risk someone’s life over it though...” “Hmm.” Dyso stroked his chin, thinking about it. “Are you looking for a potential winner? Or just an interesting underdog? It wouldn’t be nearly so hard to find a hometown hero who could possibly make it out of the qualifiers and defend themselves well in the knockout rounds before bowing out.” Why not both? thought Li, though visibly he smiled and nodded. “Now we’re talking. A good showman would be ideal. Of course they do need to win at least a few times.” “Then you want to talk to Zakhar over there,” Dyso said, gesturing to a set of tables on the other side of the crowd. There a peacock beastman was surrounded by Gateway boards on all sides, and was playing each of them in sequence with stylish, flowing motions. “Loves to put on a spectacle. Knows how to make it look good too. Not half-bad at the game, either.” “Mmmph,” grunted Boulder disapprovingly. “Better you approach that one alone,” he said to Li. “Not friendly with me. Hard for snakes and birds to get along, even when not flashy braggarts.” “And so I shall,” Li said, raising an eyebrow at Boulder that he hoped the other would interpret as ‘while you go find Alik’. “Where can I find Alik?” Boulder asked Dyso. “Near the edge of the Kiln, over there,” Dyso said, pointing at two distant figures, immersed in the study of the humble wooden gameboard between them. “The heat keeps Old Gen’s bones from complaining too much in nights like these. Try not to disrupt them while they’re making their moves, and I’m sure they’ll hear what you have to say.” “Thank you,” said Boulder. “We will expect you at whichever clinic is most convenient to fulfill your commission to spend a day or two sketching. Pick a cold or rainy day as it pleases you. Seeing their compassion through another’s eyes may help carry on in the face of a bad day.” Boulder bowed to Dyso and trudged toward Alik and Gen. Li stayed for a moment while keeping half an eye on the peacock’s triple-game (which seemed to be nearing a conclusion.) “If it isn’t too personal a tale,” he said, once Boulder looked to be out of earshot. “I’m curious how you two met.” Dyso let out a quiet laugh. “It’s not much of one — either personal, or a tale. This is a good place to watch people from, and Boulder comes often when his mistress gives him time off.” As far as anyone outside the Cult knew, Boulder was still a slave. He certainly looked the part, at least. “I talk to people who’ll sit with me. It’s a good way to keep the mind distracted while I let my instincts do the work of painting. Boulder’s not much of a talker, but he listens well. Several problems I’ve talked about with him and no one else have been solved since he started coming here. I fear it’s going to get him into trouble some day, but he’s pretended not to know what I’m talking about when I’ve asked him if he needs any assistance.” As he finished a delicate stroke, Dyso glanced at Li. “What about you? How’d you come to take such an interest in him?” “His mistress is a frequent employer of mine,” Li said with a cheeky smile. He doubted Master Lin Zhen would be pleased to hear him say it that way, but it was as honest as he could be given their need for secrecy. “I noticed right away that he sees things most people don’t, and he knows more people in this city than I ever will. Tagging along with him is always enlightening.” “Indeed,” Dyso said, nodding slowly. “His unique perspectives will serve you well, doctor. Listen to him when he speaks, and he won’t steer you wrong.” “When he can be persuaded to speak,” Li chuckled lightly. “Thank you again, I’ll look forward to seeing those clinic sketches.”
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Mar 24, 2021 06:08
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Of Birds (and Men) Scene: The Lime Kiln, Beasts' Lair Li didn’t wait for a response from Dyso this time because the cheers and jeers of the crowd had just told him that Zakhar was finally finished with his show and he needed to interrupt before the peacock-man started another one. Thankfully, the aforementioned showoff was busy taking a bow as Li approached him. He stuck out like a sore thumb in the midst of a crowd of beastmen — and perhaps it was for that reason that Zakhar’s eyes fixed upon him as he came back up. “Ahh, a visitor! Welcome to the Kiln, my friend! Fancy playing a game with me?” He had a strange diction, strange because of how remarkably crisp and clean it was. It took Li a moment to realize why he found it familiar. Zakhar spoke like a man born and raised in high society, with inflections that so perfectly matched the way born speakers of High Realm spoke that he couldn’t be certain it wasn’t his native language, strange as the thought might’ve been. “Won’t take very long, I assure you — though I can’t make any promises I’ll be able to hold myself back from playing my best! ” “I’m afraid I would be a poor match for one as talented as yourself, master Zakhar.” Li said, bowing slightly. “But that is exactly why I wanted to speak with you. I have a business proposition for someone with your exact skillset.” “Oho! Is that so?” Zakhar’s tailfeathers flared out all around him, like a set of prying eyes studying Li. “Do tell then. I’m all ears!” Li almost mentioned that Zakhar didn’t have any visible ears before catching himself. “Ahem, well, I’m sure you’ve heard of the Gateway tournament being held over the fate of the Nepenthe…” He let the line trail off, so that his target could come to whatever conclusions best suited him. “Of course! It’s been the talk of the Kiln since it was announced. And you’ve come here seeking a player, I take?” Zakhar ventured, shooting Li a conspiratorial wink. All around them, the crowd broke into murmurs. “Perhaps I have!” Li said, showing his delight to the onlookers. The point was to get people talking after all. “But surely you aren’t still available… are you?” “None of my prospective patrons could afford me,” said Zakhar, modestly. It was a masterfully told lie, with no hesitation visible. It was only Li’s keen nose for his patients’ embarrassing omissions that told him this was top-of-the-line, Empress-certified bullshit. Why exactly that was the case was something he wasn’t sure of, yet, but Zakhar was most certainly not being truthful. “If I must sell out, I should make sure to sell well, don’t you agree, Mister…?” “Doctor Fara Li,” he said, with just enough emphasis on the title to make sure it got some respect. “On behalf of the Heart’s Beat Clinic. And I would be most interested in finding out how well you’d like to sell over a cup of hot tea, if you care to join me?” “Absolutely, doctor,” Zakhar said, catching on to the subtle request immediately, before turning to address the crowd. “My apologies, my dear audience, but I must take my leave for now. Oh, do not cry!” He said, interrupting the audience’s disappointed murmurs with a shake of his feathered claws. “I swear on my honor I will be back shortly. Practice what I’ve shown you, and think of new stratagems to surprise me with. We’ll play together again soon!” “Now then,” he said, turning back to face Li with a regal bow. “My good doctor, I’m all yours.” Li led them over to the tea vendor’s cart that he’d noticed earlier in Dyso’s sketch. The owl behind the counter gave them a pair of steaming cups and they sat down together at one of wooden tables just far enough back from the lights to be semi-private, which was about as good as they would get at the Kiln. The little doctor held his cup serenely, taking in its wholesome scent. When he spoke he kept his voice low, well aware that most of the folk here could hear much better than he could. “Before we talk numbers, sir, I would like to know the real reason you haven’t yet entered the contest. I promise to keep it in strictest confidence, but I cannot stake my clinic’s reputation on you without that knowledge.” “Of course,” Zakhar said, drinking from his tea serenely. “It’s a tale as old as time, you see. I took a loan from a lender, and he’s been insistent I should pay him back...and soon, if at all possible. If I participated in the tournament, I believe he’d take offense and request I pay him quickly, thinking it all just a flight of fancy on my part. The resulting discussion is one I rather think I would not win, doctor, and it’s customary for the clever Gateway player to not take unnecessary risks. You understand what I’m saying, I’m sure?” The words were said cheerfully and openly, without any attempt to deceive, in stark contrast with the showmanship from before...which was rather surprising, truly. “And perhaps there have not been so many patrons who could give you cover?” Li tilted his head ever so slightly. “Before me that is.” “Indeed. An advance for my services to cover part of the loan would go a long way towards appeasing my creditor…” “I’m sure it would, but it wouldn’t give you much incentive to last beyond the first round, and I’m looking for someone who has the potential to make it out of the qualifiers.” Li set down his empty cup. “I’m not looking for just a good player, master Zakhar. I need someone who can work a crowd and pull eyes away from where they shouldn’t be. When I said I was in the market for someone with your talents, I meant all of them, not just your skill at the game. If you’re willing to work that hard for me, I think a partial advance could be arranged. How much were you expecting?” “Twenty dinars up front, thirty more once I make it out of the qualifiers and I’m all yours, my good doctor.” For a moment Li said nothing, as a twitch developed in his left eye. “For that much, you would need to be mine in perpetuity,” he said. “Five up front and…” He had to stop and take a calming breath. “Ten when you make it out of the qualifiers. We split the prize evenly, if there is one.” “That’s barely enough to be worth the sheer effort of so many high-stakes matches, good sir.” Zakhar shook his head. “Winning fifteen dinars in exchange for getting my legs broken once my run is over is scarcely a bargain worth considering. Surely the publicity you’d gain by showing off your impeccable eye for detail in choosing someone who surmounted the qualifiers is worth something more than that?” The peacock-man had the manners of a dynast, but he haggled like the most cutthroat Guild merchant. Convincing Zakhar to play without making his coin purse cry bloody tears, Li realized belatedly, would be no easy task at all. “I’m thinking of that publicity right now, and how it must bring in more coins than I spend for any of this to be worth it,” Li countered. “Also, fear not. If you suffer any harm because of this job, I can promise you will be seen to and treated with the utmost urgency, and even with two broken legs I can have you walking again in two weeks at most. I’m very capable.” He thought about it for a second. “You wouldn’t happen to have a grandmother or some such in desperate need of medical attention, would you?” "If I had one, my good doctor, I would have taken a loan out to hire the services of a great healer already," Zakhar said, as he sipped his tea immutably. “Who is lending you all this money?” Li asked, exasperated. “Do they have an ailing grandmother?” “Please, Doctor Li,” Zakhar pleaded. “Desperation to avoid paying an appropriate fee for a quality player ill becomes you. Especially when you are hiring the services of someone capable of showcasing your talents as a miracle healer halfway through the tournament. I assure you, any dinars you invest in me will be money well spent.” I’m sure you told your lender the exact same thing, Li thought irritably. The costs for this venture were beginning to add up and he was far from sure that Master Lin Zhen would be willing to foot the bill. Why did everything he tried to do end up costing so much? For a moment he dearly wished Shoji was there. She would set this puffed up gambler straight. “My… apologies…” he forced out through his teeth. “I did not come from a wealthy family, and such sums still seem difficult to comprehend, though I am not without the means. Fifteen up front, twenty-five after the qualifiers. Any more and I would have to take out a loan myself, and physicians are no more fond of unnecessary risks than Gateway players.” “And if there is any prize to be had, I will take the first five dinars of it and we’ll split the rest evenly.” Zakhar added, nodding agreeably. “Do we have a deal?” Li’s brow furrowed. “This game is a stage play, and the fate of the city will be decided in the final act. You may not be the leading man, but your performance will be key, and when you exit the stage is as important as your entrance. If you can work with me on that, then yes, we have a deal.” “Is that so? Interesting…” For once, the peacock-man’s silver tongue stopped wagging, as he drank through half his cup, pondering Li’s words. Eventually, however, he shrugged. “Certainly, why not? A memorable exit can be just as good as a memorable victory, sometimes. Your wish, my good doctor, is my command.” “Excellent.” Li held his hand out to shake on it. “I will have the money sent down in the morning, then. It’s a bit late to ask one of my girls to carry so much.” “Not a problem at all, doctor,” Zakhar said, accepting his hand with a satisfied smile. “Let me know what sort of show you want me to stage at your earliest convenience, as well. I guarantee it will be an unforgettable performance.” Li grinned. “My friend, for the qualifiers I can only ask you to be yourself. Show them the shining spirit of the Kiln. After that we’ll see what adjustments need to be made, if any.” As they split for the evening, Li thought about getting a second cup of tea, but his wallet simply refused to open. Sighing, he slipped it back into his pocket and went home thirsty. Bouquet fucked around with this message at 06:22 on Mar 24, 2021 |
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Of Mice and Men Scene: The Lime Kiln, Beasts' Lair The master general Gen and his disciple Alik were in the depths of a prolonged discussion as Boulder approached them. “I don’t understand, Master. Wouldn’t flanking the enemy force with the catapults scatter them to the winds quite quickly? The pass wouldn’t allow them to move at all,” said Alik, moving several pieces into position. He was a young mouse boy whose hair hid his eyes from view, and whose tail twitched as he focused intently on the board. “That may be so.” Gen had once sported an impressive physique, no doubt. Even now, signs of impressive musculature could be seen here and there upon his pale chest. But he was withered, compressed down, almost, only his snow white mane retained the majesty of his glory days. He held a walking stick in one hand, which kept him upright even while seated, while his other picked up a commander piece. “But proper command is just as much about making use of exceptional talents as it is regular forces. If I take this piece and employ its elemental bolts, this entire section of the map will catch fire.” He was barely whispering, and yet his imperious voice was still loud enough for Boulder to hear clearly. By contrast, Alik’s squeaky speaking tone was timid enough he had to strain to keep track of it. “Your catapults will get a single volley off before being consumed by the flames. Will the damage they inflict be worth such a loss of materiel?” “Oh, I see! So first I must reach the commander, and keep him busy. Then I can...Ah! M-Master!” Alik said, noticing someone had approached them. “I-I think you have a visitor.” Boulder crouched beside the table on which the Gateway board rested. “I am Boulder. Dyso said there are reasons you,” he nodded to Gen, “can’t participate in the tournament, but you,” he nodded to Alik, “can. Do you plan to enter the qualifiers?” “Me? B-but…” Alik glanced at his master, but the lion-man merely gestured for him to proceed. “Oh, well, I-I haven’t really thought about it. I’m still learning about the game and I d-don’t need the prize, so it’s just...” “Nonsense. That’s what it is,” Gen chimed in. “He’s better than anyone lesser than a dragonblooded warmaster. And that’s exactly why he’s not interested in participating.” “Do you not wish to call attention to yourself?” asked Boulder of Alik. “I-it’s not like that. This is a b-big tournament, isn’t it? There will be lots of competitors, including some v-very powerful people. What would they do if they got beaten by someone like m-me? I don’t want to invite reprisals upon the L-Lair just because I wanted a c-challenge,” Alik explained, his tail swishing back and forth as he spoke, so quickly it became a blur. “Admirable,” said Boulder. He paused for a moment, drew a breath, let it out, then continued, “I survived decades as a slave. By luck, stubbornness, quick wits, strength of body, yes, but also a game. The ‘It Could Be Worse’ game. Let’s play.” Boulder slid a hand sideways through the air as though clearing a board, “Scenario: Tournament with prize enough to maintain a Legion for months or raze the city and rebuild, with stated purpose of renovating Nepenthe.” The snake man nodded to indicate the scene had been set, then pointed a thumb at himself. “It could be worse: Alik might embarrass a dragon who takes revenge on the Lair by smashing the square around us to bits.” Boulder nodded at Alik, “Your turn.” “U-U-Uhm, well…” Though clearly utterly confused by where Boulder was going, the mouse-boy was quick on his feet. It only took him a few moments to regain his composure. “I-it could be worse than that, too. I could w-win everything, and t-then the dragons would s-start agitating about this all being a b-b-barbarian plot to steal away the Realm’s riches and u-use that excuse to kickstart a systematic p-purge of beastmen in the Blessed Isle. I-if what Master Gen says is true, it’s not like they’re not used to using xenophobia a-a-as a weapon.” Though the very thought had left him pale and breathless, he still managed to play along. His tail pointed at Boulder afterward. “I-I think it’s your turn now?” Boulder managed to maintain his composure during the boy’s rush of words, but he gave out a true laugh of delight when Alik pointed his tail at the snake-man. The fangs his laugh revealed may not have been all that reassuring to the mouse-boy. “You wish a short game then. I concede; you have clearly thought about the worst case. But I do wish to restart somewhat in the middle of our two scenarios. Your master says ‘better than anyone lesser than a dragonblooded warmaster’ and I trust him. There will be dragonblooded warmasters competing. Even if you manage to defeat all but one, you can ensure you don’t win the finals. Your scenario can be prevented.” Boulder paused, then resumed with a brief hint of formality. “My turn. Alik doesn’t compete, or competes and doesn’t win. The winner razes the city and enslaves all inhabitants, claiming that this is a necessary first step to renovating the Nepenthe. Or. A jealous rival of the winner claims the prize by force and razes the city and enslaves all inhabitants. Or. The winner or rival are insane cannibals and raze the city and eat all the inhabitants. Or. The winner is some kind of earth spirit who eats the city and razes the inhabitants. Or. The tournament outcome sets off the Isle-wide civil war all feel looming and the entire Isle is razed and enslaved along the way. Plus the things you mentioned.” Boulder paused again. “You understand my point. Now to another point. I learned when I joined the clinic that some healers work to prevent the miseries others treat. They say one of this type of healer can prevent more harm than ten healers can fix. My mistress works at a level beyond even this; she works to prevent the future where some healers must work to prevent the miseries that others treat.” Boulder looked at the two listeners and waited for them to speak. “B-b-but that’s impossible. It’d be like p-playing an entire game of Gateway to completion in your m-mind’s eye and then taking the exact chain of moves that prevents any part of it from even h-happening,” Alik pointed out, his features twisted in a grimace of visible confusion. “Not that impossible,” Gen chimed in. “Difficult, yes. Enormously complex, truly. But not impossible, Alik. It is simply a matter of having sufficient information. If you know yourself, know your enemy and know your battlefield, then it is possible to have complete control over every single factor at play. The rest is all a matter of acquiring enough resources to make your vision a reality.” He fixed Boulder with a piercing stare. “Does this mistress of yours claim to have access to such information, Boulder?” “No, master Gen,” said Boulder. “When I said she works to prevent futures, I meant it in the same way as one might say they work to completely master Gateway. There will be failures and losses along the way, and the goal always stays just out of reach, if what I have been told of mastering Gateway is true. My mistress steers a boat with her ears alone along a river, trying to avoid any rocks large enough to sink the boat outright. When the current is slow, this is difficult. When rapids approach, it is nigh impossible. Unless she has some eyes. And maybe people in the boat with sticks to push on rocks; I have seen that once.” Boulder waved a hand side to side, “The analogy breaks down…” “We need eyes, Alik,” concluded the Lunar. “And someone who can influence the tournament in some small way if needed.” For some time, Alik didn’t answer. He gulped, his mind clearly running at ten thousand miles a minute as he considered Boulder’s request. He was a smart boy, and clearly aware of the risks and dangers entering the tournament would pose. And yet, it was also clear he understood the truth behind Boulder’s words. “I-I...well…” he began, eventually, when his master raised a hand to cut him off. “Stop, my student. Before you commit yourself to anything, let me use what experience has taught me to aid you. Boulder, your mistress’ name and her capabilities are wreathed in shadow, and we do not know how you intend to support Alik, should he deign to assist you in your efforts. What would you offer him in exchange for his services, to make it worth the risk?” “B-but Master, i-if what Boulder says is true, we c-can’t…” Once more, Gen raised his hand. “Alik. You are young, and I’ve done as much as I can to protect you from the deceit and cruelty of men. I have no doubts Boulder’s cause is righteous, but more men have committed atrocities in the name of righteous causes than can be counted with the grains of sand that a beach can offer. Their fall stemmed not because of an evil heart, but because they did not know what turning that righteous cause into a reality would cost them. There is much you must do yet before your life is complete and your full potential realized, and as your guardian, I will do all I can to keep you from taking unwise risks.” His voice, harsh and firm, softened just a touch. “I am a tactician, and you are a tactician’s pupil, not a simple Gateway player. If you must sell your services, sell them well, even to a noble cause.” Clearly Alik wanted to argue, but respect for his master and trust in his skills kept him from complaining. Instead, he bowed his head. “Yes, Master. I-it’ll be as you say. I’ll listen to Boulder’s offer first.” Gen nodded, satisfied. “Good. The floor is yours then, Boulder. We are listening.” Boulder nodded. “As to my mistress, my apologies, I assumed foolishly you would know that I work for Lin Zhen, master of Starlight Medical Center and associated clinics. As to your fee…” Boulder looked skyward to think. “Perhaps you might tell me what it is you desire.” The snake-man held up a cautionary finger. “If it is bought with wealth, we have little. If it is bought with influence and favors, we have no small amount among the common people, but less among the elite. We might be willing to go to greater lengths to acquire the influence needed, should the desired result address a long standing,” Boulder’s eyes flicked to Gen, “injustice. If it is bought with individual effort, knowledge, skill or patience, we have many friends who excel in one way or another.” Boulder grinned, an expression which mercifully kept his fangs hidden, “If you require an individual with patience, we may be working together again soon. What say you?” Alik shot his master a look. For his part, Gen nodded. “Reasonable terms,” said the lion-man. “Go ahead, my student. Make your request.” Rather than respond immediately, Alik lowered his head, staring intently at the board between him and his teacher. His presence became almost unnoticeable, such was the depths of his contemplation. His master merely studied him curiously, saying and doing nothing — warning him of dangers and tricks was one thing, but choosing a reward was a private matter. “I want information.” For once, Alik’s voice was steady, without a trace of his usual stutter. “I want to speak with a preceptor from the House of Bells, ask them some questions, and get real answers.” He looked up at Boulder, and his trademark nervousness returned. “C-can you do that?” Boulder contemplated the question for more than a minute before speaking. “No. I could get you there, should I reveal secrets that are not mine alone. But it would take weeks and I could not get a preceptor to speak with you, which means at least one more would need to come and that would slow the journey further. That is a price too high for one set of eyes and hands, however quick and sharp they are.” Boulder paused only briefly to take a breath and continued before the others could speak. “But.” He held up a finger, “it is possible I could find your answers here, depending on the nature of the questions. If they are personal in nature, likely not. Do you wish to share your questions, ask another price, or send me on my way?” “I-it wouldn’t make sense to have someone else ask them,” Alik said, shaking his head. “The preceptor’s reactions to g-getting them from me are important. But maybe there’s something else I can ask for. C-could I speak with your mistress? I-I want to know how she can steer a b-boat with her ears alone, like you said.” “You understand that was a metaphor, yes?” asked Boulder uncomfortably. “Yes. But I-I don’t think her foresight was a metaphor,” Alik replied, his tone confident in spite of his persistent stammering. “I-if she’s trying to play such a long game, she must understand how people think and o-operate. Master Gen told me that every difficult endeavor l-leads back to strategy. If I can’t speak with a teacher from the House of Bells, m-maybe Mistress Lin Zhen will be a good enough r-replacement.” Behind Alik, Gen flashed a fierce smile. It seemed the pupil had just applied a lesson well. Boulder nodded and stood from his crouch. “Good. We can go now. It might be best; tomorrow will be very busy.” Boulder looked to Gen, “You are welcome, if you wish to ensure his safety along the way.” “I would have insisted if you’d said nothing,” Gen noted, with smug cheerfulness. As he motioned to stand, Alik jumped up to his feet to help him. “Thank you, my boy. I have one request, then, Boulder. Can you bring the board and pieces? It will be a fine way to kill time while Alik and your mistress have their audience, and spare him the discomfort of having to carry it along with my old bones.” Boulder looked dubiously at the board and its many pieces. He held up a thick, blunt, three-fingered hand. “If Alik packs, I will carry.”
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Mar 24, 2021 06:21
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Medical Confidentiality Scene: Foundation District Side Streets, Near Daosheng Theatre, Evening As far as notary offices went, Gladshot & Daughters was a remarkably nondescript one. It boasted two stories and spanned two entire building lots, but it was far from matching any of the palaces that Fidelity had seen as she’d ventured into the Foundation District. Its facade was well-painted, but plain and lacking in adornment. And most of all, it lacked bustle. For a commercial building not far away from one of the city’s central arteries, there was a remarkable lack of people in the area, as if it had been cut off from the chaos that surrounded the Daosheng Theatre close by and left to exist in its own little pocket of idyllic peace. It seemed improbable that anyone would ever find out this place existed without being informed of it by someone else, as though receiving a piece of hidden lore. Which of course made the fierce argument unfurling by its front door all the more incongruous, so much so, that on the other side of the street, the neighbors had gathered up to watch. “—Absolutely out of the question. I understand you need the space, miss, but we won’t set our livelihoods on fire just for the sake of a temporary arrangement!” A rotund matriarch insisted, the sleeves of her sober white robes drawing figure-eights in mid-air as she furiously gesticulated at her interlocutor. “Then that’s just a lovely pickle we’re in then, isn’t it ma’am?” The little nurse (for it could be nothing else — the quiet firmness and the subdued mannerisms meant to avoid disturbing the patients were unmistakable) answered, crossing her arms. “A clinic isn’t worthy of the name without beds and cots for the sick and injured. That’s the bare minimum for basic treatment. Would you like to have your daughters treated on the cold, hard, dirty floor then?” “Of course not, but you haven’t told me what you plan to do with the documents—” “That’s something for you to decide, they’re your records and—” That had to be Shoji, Fara Li’s right hand woman, and the owner of the place for which they’d acquired a permit earlier that day. And clearly, the situation between them had reached an impasse. Fidelity had expected there to be delays and setbacks. This would be simple to address. She strode forward, allowing her heels to clack against the flagstone and announce her presence. It wouldn’t do to give her benefactor a heart attack. Clearing her throat as she approached, she greeted Li’s assistant. “Hello, Shoji. Is aught the matter?” The moment she saw Fidelity approach, Shoji’s eyes flooded with recognition...and strangely enough, immediately after, with wariness. It did not suit her warm face even a little, but at least she was quick to set those feelings aside. “Oh, finally! I was waiting for someone to come around, I was. Maybe now we can get truly get this ball rolling. Mrs. Gladshot, this is Lady Ceto, one of the doctors who requested this permit. Miss Ceto, this is Mrs. Hermeline Gladshot, chief notary of Gladshot & Daughters. I’ve been trying to reach an arrangement with her about the use of her property all night long, and at this point I’m at my wits end! Can I go over the details or are you going to put another roadblock in our way now?” she asked, shooting the chief notary a look of absolute exasperation. “You better believe I will!” Mrs. Gladshot said, stepping up towards Fidelity. While she certainly didn’t manage to cut an imposing presence, her owlish face was impossible to ignore when she was this close. Behind her large round spectacles, her eyes narrowed to the size of buttons as she took Fidelity’s measure. “As I told your little sidekick, this contract will have rules and I expect you and your leeches to follow them to the letter! There must be order at all times, me and my daughters must retain the ability to continue with our labors, and the contents of my office must be immaculately preserved! I won’t accept anything less than that! Are we understood?” “Mrs. Gladshot, I understand your terms, but not your reservations,” Fidelity said, doing her best not to blink in surprise and accidentally turn her into a statue. “This is only a temporary arrangement. Most notary work shall be displaced to the theater and its environs in any case, and I do not see why you should think that your records would be handled with any less care than our own tools.” “Hmph! I thought there would be no issues at first too, and then the complaints began! Come here!” Without even waiting for a response, Mrs. Gladshot turned around and threw the gate to the office wide open, before stamping into the main hallway and disappearing down a side door. “She’s impossible and no mistake!” Shoji huffed, causing the ponytail her hair had been bundled up in to bob up and down behind her. “I’ll wait here, you’ll see why in a moment. Just try not to knock anything over.” The meaning behind her words of caution became immediately apparent once Fidelity followed the notary matriach in. The main office was completely overrun with baskets and baskets of documents, stacked up so high they reached the ceiling, and so tightly it was difficulty to see the maroon wall paint behind them. Mrs. Gladshot standing behind a tiny desk, hands stretched out wide. “You see why I worry? These are writs, affidavits, testimonies! Each and every single one is the lynchpin of a singular transaction or act of law. If they become lost or damaged, their related act becomes lost with them. Not only could that nurse not give me a satisfactory answer as to where she intended to take these documents to make room for the medical instruments, but she didn’t even have a plan set up for their safe transport! Some of these documents are old and frail, they can’t simply be handled by any rough and ungraceful porter! If I can’t be certain the records I’ve kept will be taken good care of, I cannot allow them to be moved at all!” “...these are the only copies?!” Fidelity asked, aghast. “Goodness, no. But the only unbiased ones? Yes. If something were to happen to these documents, the signatories of these agreements would have to produce their own copies to compare and determine what the exact terms of the arrangement were...and that always ends with one party or the other trying to sweeten their side of the deal with a forgery and a protracted legal battle. The greedy animals just can’t help themselves! Ever since the city’s record house burnt down years ago, keeping track of arrangements has been pure bedlam, particularly older ones.” Mrs. Gladshot sniffed, sadly. “We may not be the most successful notary house in the City, but my mother owned this business before I did, and so did my grandmother before her. These documents are our clients’ history, and also our history. I won’t let anything happen to them if I can help it.” At that moment, Fidelity’s heart ached for the woman, and yet it suddenly occurred to her that she had a better opportunity for gathering intelligence than any listening post might provide. “Be at ease, Mrs. Gladshot. I shall personally vouchsafe your records. May we speak candidly?” “Of course,” the notary nodded. “Consider everything we speak of to be off-the-record, at least for the moment.” Fidelity nodded, still hesitant in what she was about to say. “I am...a licensed sorceress.” She indeed had such a license, given to her by her teacher, Vanira. It was an exquisite work of forgery. “I know that you are scrupulous in your work, while spirits are given to mislead and beguile. Nevertheless, with the proper oversight, they may be employed for good ends.” “Well now,” Mrs. Gladshot said, crooking an eyebrow. “A sorceress and a doctor. It’s a wonder you find time for anything else in your day.” She stared at Fidelity clinically, as if evaluating a flower with jewels for petals. “And you want to use magic for...what? Getting a spirit to make copies of the records? “Time permitting, eventually ,” Fidelity told her. “But even the swiftest scribe would require more than two days for such a task. For now, I would call forth a...custodian of sorts.” “Wouldn’t a spirit make your patients uncomfortable, if it stuck around to protect the records?” the notary asked. Clearly she knew as much about spirits as most people knew about recordkeeping. “If it were to remain, certainly,” Fidelity admitted. The particular specimen she had in mind was more fickle and obnoxious than anything, but its countenance did it no favors. “But I would not keep it here. Instead, it will provide secure transportation and storage for your documents, in a manner befitting its nature. You know of the old well that once served the silk-weavers, yes?” Before the Calamity, when the silkworms began to die and they all fled the city. “It’s been an age since I heard of them. I used to get together for teatime with Grusa, she was one of them. Wonder what’s become of her...” for a moment, Mrs. Gladshot’s expression turned wistful, before she snapped back to reality. “But yes, I do remember that well. What use are you planning on giving it?” “To give it over to a different sort of weaver,” Fidelity said. “Let me tell you of the least elementals known as wood spiders.” And so she did at length, emphasizing in particular that such spirits were regularly employed by the nearby Heptagram as guards and builders, and that the worst hazard they posed was their bite (which Fidelity, as a sorcerer and a physician, knew well how to treat). “There are many dry hollows,” she assured Mrs. Gladshot, “far above the water-line. There, my spider would bundle your documents, safe and secure in webs of sturdy vine, until such time as it is ordered to retrieve them.” “Hm. A dry, underground area, you say...” The notary didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she tapped her chin thoughtfully, occasionally shooting aside glances at the baskets where the documents were kept. “And you say there is no danger of wayward critters taking a bite out of the records, correct?” ”Be there any that can overcome my guardian, we shall have far greater concerns than mere property damage,” Fidelity said. “With how things usually are in this town, let us pray we don’t run into any,” Mrs. Gladshot murmured, wryly, and then squared herself up, having reached a decision. “Promise me you’ll get untampered copies done after this is all over and I’ll allow it. Won’t even make you go through the motions of the usual deposit, either,” she said, referencing the customary mina of jade sorcerers were required to put up as collateral against spiritual mischief. “If I can deliver ready-made copies of my records to city hall, the folks there will owe me a big one, to say nothing of several old clients. Are these terms acceptable, Miss Ceto?” “Of course,” Fidelity said. “I shall inform Shoji that work may proceed at once. Now, let us see to our custodian.”
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May 10, 2021 01:59
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What Crawls In My Garden? In the aftermath of the Ashen Bloom, the very geomancy of the surrounding environs had been altered, unleashing primeval forces upon the landscape and raining woes upon its people. Not all life had suffered for the change, however; ocean fish now swam in the waterways, drawn upriver and sustained in fresh water by a curious inversion of natural law. Rats, raitons, and monkeys had taken to the upheaval with glee, sheltering in abandoned homes and picking over the remains much as human scavengers did. And then, of course, there were the spiders. “Eightfold threads...an eightfold path...an eightfold binding,” Fidelity murmured, tying knots of twine around stocks and boughs as she strode and spoke. Once, the vegetative tangle by the old well had been a city park - a garden preserve, set aside for the benefit of mortal and Exalt alike. It lent itself well to the contemplation of Sextes Jylis, said the Immaculates, and kept disharmonious impulses at bay. Now, it was the domain of wood spirits, who had proven decidedly less pious or beneficent than the Dragon of Wood himself. “Unruly creature, twister of paths and beguiler of travelers, I call thee forth!” Fidelity chanted in the tongue of spirits. “By thy vice do I lure thee…” She plucked a single spider lily from the riotous overgrowth. “...at thine table do I entreat thee…” She set the blossom at the very center of her weaving, an eight-spoked web of twisted fibers. “...and with thine own cords do I ensnare thee! By my will and my art and my power, I part the veil and summon thee to serve!” For a few moments, nothing happened. Then eight spindly legs, as malleable as strings of thread and as thin as needles, emerged from the earth underneath the spider lily, wrapping around it like a second flower. Their touch was gentle, up until their tips split into sharp, jagged ends, piercing the lily’s petals and allowing a curious creature that looked like a bundle of vines wrapped together into a ball to rise up through the earth. It studied Fidelity for a moment with eight deep green unblinking eyes, then spoke. “You...summon me?” It asked, its wooden mandibles clicking together to form ‘tsk’ sounds as it spoke. “What...is the meaning of this?” “I have need of your talents,” Fidelity said. Her tone was not unkind, but it was firm, brooking no argument. “And this city has need of less mischief. I offer you employment, in service of both ends.” ‘Offer’ was doing a bit of heavy lifting in that sentence, but her Shahan-Ya had taught her that it was best to open with magnanimity. After all, generosity could be its own display of power. “Punishing mischief…” A quick burst of incomprehensible chittering followed as the spider considered the possibilities. “What are the terms of your offer, needful one?” it asked, leaning forwards slightly to listen to her. “An ally has documents. Valuable. Fragile. They must be moved, and stored securely for a time. You are nimble and clever, and your webs sturdy. I would entrust them to your care, in the dry tunnels adjoining the old well.” Fidelity paused, allowing the spider to wrap its mind around the task. “In return...there are sure to be vermin already nesting in those tunnels, and more drawn to steal away these treasures for food or bedding. Should you accept, I give you free reign to feast upon such creatures.” She raised a hand to forestall acceptance before the obvious point could be raised. “Human intruders may be ensnared, but not eaten without my express permission.” “What about spirits?” The response was immediate, and more than that, hungry. Fidelity almost smiled at that. Almost. “Once you are established with the parcels...hmm. If they approach peacefully, offer warning once, and permit them to retreat. Should they attack first or ignore your warning, you may do with them as you like.” “These terms are...fair.” The spider clicked its mandibles, thrice. “I am Stalks-Like-A-Shadow. Your will shall be done, needful one. Where are these...documents?” “I am the Graven Icon of Fidelity, although I use the title and name of ‘Lady Ceto’ in public here, and you shall only address me as such in the presence of others,” Fidelity said, formalizing introductions before proceeding to business. “The documents are at the business office of Gladshot and Daughters, Stalks-Like-A-Shadow. Proceed there with all possible discretion, and I shall introduce you to its proprietress. Be polite with her, and should she have any specific instructions regarding the care and handling of her documents, follow them as if they were my own.” Stalks-Like-A-Shadow crouched down upon the spider lily, as respectfully as one of its kind could manage. “It will be as you wish...master. I will be there in a moment. Until next we meet...” A sudden burst of motion propelled the wood spider up into the air, its shape clear against the unusually open night sky, the spider lily still safely in its clutches. When it came down, it passed through the earth, as easily as it had done so before, and was gone. “Well, that was simple enough,” Fidelity said aloud to herself, and took a moment to rest from her mystical exertions. Reclining, splayed in the tall grass and hidden from view, skin became scale and limbs shrank away to nothing. Spiders, like snakes, are not so bad, the adder considered, inasmuch as her current form could entertain such thoughts. Both of us must simply be accepted as we are, and given a respectful distance. She rested like that a while longer, pausing only to snack upon a dormouse that had the singular misfortune to happen upon her in that state, enjoying a brief respite after a long and tiring day of work. Then she turned back into a human and made all haste to return to Gladshot and Daughters. Mrs. Gladshot and the spider might have different ideas of what a ‘respectful’ distance was, and Fidelity had best be there to clear up such misunderstandings. Fidelity arrived at the notary’s office just in time to hear extremely animated chatter coming from the inside. Judging by the lack of angry chittering, it was at least not the result of a fierce argument, but even so, it couldn’t hurt to make sure everything was proceeding smoothly. Upon setting foot into the office’s hallways, the reason behind all the commotion became quickly apparent. The ceiling was covered in thick vines, and several baskets dangled from it, like caught prey. Mrs. Gladshot was at the center of it all, speaking with Stalks-Like-A-Shadow, who was hanging above her. Though clearly the radical changes her archives had undergone in such a brief amount of time had taken her aback, her voice was as confrontational and determined as usual. “...And that might solve the issue of safe transport, but we can’t just forsake caution either! You must have a plan before taking the baskets out, I simply must insist on it!” “It shall be so, esteemed...host. No one will notice me work. The transportation process shall be completed before the sun rises.” “But how exactly are you going to keep it a secret? Surely you must not think that...ah, Lady Ceto!” she said, bolting up from the chair she’d been sitting on ‘til that moment. “We’ve got a problem we can’t find an agreeable solution to! Your perspective might just be what we need to come to terms with your chosen spirit.” Fidelity put on a very strained smile, and made a mental note to later give Mrs. Gladshot a basic primer on etiquette around the sorts of supernatural beings that could casually rend a mortal limb from limb. “Please do explain.” “It’s very simple. Mr. Stalks came in and immediately started arranging the baskets for transportation. I appreciated his initiative, of course, but I wanted to make sure matters would be handled properly and with due discretion. If word got out that I was migrating my documents...” “The master of the house disapproved of my...methods, Lady Ceto,” Stalks-Like-A-Shadow chimed in. “Weaving a system of vines to transport these baskets to the old well, and from there to the tunnels, was...far too obvious, according to her judgement.” “It’ll stick out like a sore thumb! Even if it’d be fast, there’s no chance it wouldn’t be noticed!” The notary added. “I beg to...differ,” Stalks said, clicking its jaws patiently, though Fidelity noticed the snap of irritation underneath. “Humans rarely look up above their heads, much less at such a late hour of night. The baskets will be...invisible, as they go from roof to roof, tree to tree.” “You see now? He’s content with probabilities, when what we need is certainties. Don’t you think so too, my lady?“ Mrs. Gladshot finished, turning an inquisitive eye towards her. “Mrs. Gladshot, kindly look outside,” Fidelity said, trying to maintain her own patience. “Do you see any laundry on the drying lines?” “Hm. Let me see.” Approaching one of the windows, the notary threw it open and leaned out for a quick look. “I don’t see any. This is a business area, though. Who’d put their unmentionables out to dry here?” “Anyone who must work overnight and has not the luxury of spare clothing,” Fidelity explained. “You do not see it because they are discreet about it, and this in the full light of day - but they must, because there are the lines. If they can remain unseen to you for years, why can your papers not escape notice for a single night?” “Well…” To Mrs. Gladshot’s credit, she didn’t simply reject the idea out of hand. Her face scrunched up on concentration, as she thought about the circumstances Fidelity had outlined. “...There might be something to your words,” she said, at length. “You’re saying the baskets won’t be seen because people think whatever hangs from the rooftops is commonplace?” “What would they think should be moved in laundry baskets,” Fidelity asked, tapping one such bundle dangling from Stalks’ web, “if not laundry?” “So not only will the baskets be out of the way, they will seem perfectly normal.” Turning to face Stalks, Mrs. Gladshot pointed her finger at him. “You’re a clever one. I wish you’d said this earlier, but it’s clear Lady Ceto has a good eye for quality.” “It is my duty to handle this matter with...excellence, o master of this household,” said Stalks, bringing the tips of its legs together before its belly in a gesture of modesty. “Nothing more.” Vines fell down from the ceiling, as one of the captured baskets rose upwards. Stalks-Like-A-Shadow leaned forwards, then backwards, causing the vine it was hanging from to begin swinging, and then leapt off it to land atop the basket. “Tie these vines to the other baskets in order of importance, if you will. I shall be back for them...soon.” Without another word, a mass of vines formed a cushion beneath the basket and transported it out the window, taking the wood spider along with it. Mrs. Gladshot nodded approvingly. “I can see why sorcerers summon spirits to do their bidding, if all of them are as scrupulously thorough and clever as that one,” she said. “I didn’t think this would be so easy, but for once, I’m glad to be proven wrong. It certainly beats hiring incompetent porters to make a hash of things!” “They must be entreated with care, as all spirits,” Fidelity said, trying not to dampen Mrs. Gladshot’s enthusiasm, “but in that regard, they are little different from humans.” “I wouldn’t be so sure. If you’d seen the roadblocks and complaints I’ve received in my line of work…” the little notary remarked, clearly not noticing the implications of Fidelity’s words. “Speaking of roadblocks resolved, your nurse friend is at the kitchen at the end of the hallway, preparing some tea. I think she mentioned there was something she needed to discuss with you. Wouldn’t say what it was, but it seemed very important to her.” “But of course,” Fidelity said with another forced smile, and went off to speak with Shoji and learn what was next in the endless parade of obstacles.
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May 10, 2021 02:00
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Emergency Missive Scene: Foundation District, Gladshot & Daughters, Past Midnight The Gladshots’ kitchen was small, spartan, and so orderly a professional chef would have given a nod of approval upon taking in its arrangement. Though space was at a premium, the pantry was well-stocked, and when Fidelity arrived, she found Shoji seated on a small cushion by the dinner table. Upon it, two cups of piping hot red tea awaited her — as did, to her surprise, a bowl of mooncakes. “Please come in, I’ve been waiting for you,” Shoji said, her clear voice carrying a hint of exhaustion that quickly vanished as she kept on speaking. “Can I offer you anything? Mrs. Gladshot said it was no bother if we helped ourselves to whatever we liked.” Furtively, her eyes darted towards the crumpled up letter besides the bowl. Clearly, it was still first and foremost on her mind, but having waited so long, she was unwilling to abandon all semblances of politeness now that the moment she’d been waiting for was almost at hand. “Our host is most gracious,” Fidelity said, availing herself of a quarter of a mooncake and a sip of tea now that the aftertaste of rodent was beginning to wear out its welcome. “You wished to speak?” Shoji nodded. “You went with Dr. Li to visit the Nepenthe today, didn’t you?” “That is correct.” Shoji squared herself up. “In that case I’d like an explanation.“ Reaching forward, she flipped the note up, and straightened it out. As Fidelity read, she waited, her back ramrod straight, her face completely expressionless. A message from the gods themselves posted:My dearest Doctor Li, Below the signature, the paper had been marked with a kiss of gold dust. Fidelity sat there, motionless and stony-faced, for several minutes longer than it should have taken to read such a brief letter. When her gaze fell on the kiss, the lantern she read by spontaneously guttered out. From the otherworldly gloom came the quiet hissing of unseen serpents. “She is taking liberties,” Fidelity said at last, her voice low and oddly-sibilant. “Liberties that were not hers to take.” “Oh I don’t know about that,” Shoji murmured darkly. “Seems to me like so many liberties are being taken everywhere we’ve got a full-on fight for freedom in our hands. Is what the letter says true?” she asked, sharply. “We visited to discern her intentions regarding the tournament and the city,” Fidelity said. “Nothing prurient happened...despite her best efforts.” Closing her eyes, Shoji let out a deep sigh. “I hoped I was just imagining things but I just didn’t know what to believe. I just couldn’t see Fara...I mean, Dr. Li hiding something like this from me, but at the same time, a message from a goddess is too big to ignore. How did you end up paying her a visit anyway?” she asked, curiously. “Was it for professional reasons or...” she made a vague handgesture, suggesting skulduggery. “The future of this city rests upon the outcome of the tournament,” Fidelity said, “and with it, the future of Dr. Li’s clinic. Although we may be bound for interesting times regardless, I wished for us to be prepared.” “Are we? If this is going to be so messy I’d rather hear it from a realist than be told everything’s going to be fine and then have to work a 20 hour shift in a few days’ time.” “The Empress has quit the throne and her dragons turn upon one another,” Fidelity said plainly. It was not news. It was on everyone’s minds of late, but it was the sort of thought so dreadful and calamitous that most dared not dwell on it overlong. “Unless she returns, or her Great Houses can come to accords...we shall not want for work.” “And if that wasn’t enough there’s rumblings of a cholera epidemic at the docks, too.” Shoji snorted, derisively. “Gods, I hope it’s not real. Can you imagine having to treat cholera from here?” Fidelity went still again. She could very easily imagine treating cholera. It would take almost no effort at all on her part - a quick tour of the afflicted areas, bearing her sanctuary’s hearthstone, and every last source of tainted water would be cleansed. ”Auriga?” Aceso said, a strangeness in his otherwise warm and familiar tone. “Will you attend to this matter in my stead? There has been...an incident in the mines. Many are injured, and the healing arts I taught you will be welcome there.” And so she had gone, and that had been the last time Auriga had seen the sky until Luna found her, and she became the Graven Icon of Fidelity. “Cholera, you say?” Fidelity said at last. “Peculiar - where did you hear of this?” “One of the nurses mentioned it earlier today while we took care of the patients back at the clinic. The cousin of her lower floor’s neighbor at the insula she lives in works at the docks, and came down with a case of something not unlike it a few days ago.” Shoji shook her head. “I hope it’s a mistaken diagnosis. Sailors bring all sorts of diseases with them, but this of all things, at this time...” “Cholera spreads from poor hygiene near stagnant water,” Fidelity said, suspicious. “If it is indeed that, then I would expect the docks to be last afflicted, not first. Unless a sewer main has broken open and spilled into the river…” “It’s so strange isn’t it?” Shoji agreed, confusion clearly visible upon her face. “I would’ve guessed the chief god might’ve cursed the district, but they don’t seem displeased. It has to be a problem with the sewage system for sure.” She clicked her tongue. “It’d be so easy to fix it if someone could talk to the government officials in charge of public works, but with the tournament going on…” “Has not the Abbess taken an interest?” Fidelity asked. “The temple often intercedes in times of need...unless…” A disturbing possibility struck her. “I...there is something I must investigate when there is time.” “I hope your assessment earlier was wrong. I want nothing more than to want for work right now.” She took a bite out of the mooncake, thoughtfully. “Forgive me for asking, but was something on your mind earlier? You looked very...thoughtful.” “Aught but some unpleasant memories,” Fidelity deflected. “I shall look into the matter regardless, once our more-immediate problems are addressed. Have you spoken of it to Dr. Li?” “Not yet. I haven’t seen him all day. You think I should pass on the news to him too, once I’m done giving him an earful?” “Indeed,” Fidelity said. “I should like to be present. If it is indeed another plague, then it concerns us all.” And if there was foul play afoot, she should like for Fara to accompany her. Fidelity felt...more at ease, in his presence. She could not quite say why, but she knew that the good doctor was not nearly so harmless as he tried to appear. Shoji nodded, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she did so. Surreptitiously, her hand fell upon the missive. “I’ll make sure to let him know, then. I hope he’s had the sense to return to the clinic while I’ve been away, he’s been staying up at ungodly hours as of late.” With a long sip, she finished her tea and stood up. “Will we need to make any special preparations for setting up shop here tomorrow? I’d rather pass on orders to the other nurses sooner rather than later.” Fidelity mulled it over as she sipped her tea. Charcoal for clean water - her hearthstone could provide that in abundance, but it wouldn’t do for anyone to know about that. The medicinal herbs for the aromatherapy, but those would have to come from her own garden. Fuel for the fires, protective garb for the nurses, needles and knives and tonics and bandages for the myriad other ills that might afflict the patients...but Shoji would of course know to bring such things. “More mooncakes,” she said at last with a smile. “Urchins do tend to have appetites.”
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May 10, 2021 02:19
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A Night at the Committee Scene: Daosheng Theatre, Foundation District Though the Calamity struck all of Falling Ashes, not every locale was hit with equal severity. Partly due to its exquisite construction, partly due to supernatural fortifications put in place by the children of the dragons, and partly by sheer luck, the Foundation District escaped the disaster mostly unscathed. Few buildings were more emblematic of the glory that had once been Starlit Fields than the Daosheng Theatre, with its spiral columns stretching upwards to the height of fifteen men and its gilded balcony from which visiting singers customarily performed for the crowds gathered before their proper show began. Usually it was a place of glory, but today, it was a place of far more mundane bustle. Even at this late hour, the streets still overflowed with street vendors, arguing with soldiers as they tried to preserve the prime business spots they’d picked out. Construction workers flowed in and out of the theatre, working tirelessly to refit its central stage for the tournament that was to come. Blending into this sort of crowd was trivial, and gave Rook and Grace a starting point. Getting through the security checkpoints at every doorway, on the other hand, was likely to be a far more difficult proposition, at least if the goal was to investigate what the tournament’s organization committee had gotten up to. Rook leaned in toward Grace. "We'll reconvene where we discussed," he whispered in the Illuminated cant, and with that aside he was gone, peeling off with the flow of the crowd. He situated himself firmly a few steps behind a group that were clearly dressed as laborers, walking toward one of the moderately-busy entrances, carefully following their conversation with his eyes without ever speaking up to draw attention to himself. With any luck, the guards would assume he was just another worker coming in for his shift. Activating Easily Overlooked Presence Method for 3 motes That is precisely what the guards did — they were tasked to stop any unwelcome presences, but delaying every single construction worker (as they had at first) had gotten them threatened with a salary cut by their leader. As such, security had grown somewhat more lax, allowing certain malcontents and spies to slip in...such as Rook, for example. The ground floor corridors of the theatre were full of people, coming and going as they labored tirelessly to repurpose the theatre for the tournament, but the commotion died down as one approached the stairways leading to the second floor — though here, the guards were far more alert, and seemed less willing to let just about anyone who seemed like they belong within the theatre through, as the senior officials had taken up office in the floors above. The general strategy hadn't changed- first and foremost, act like you belong where you are and that you know where you're going. With that in mind, Rook strode toward one of the nearest staircases up, bracing himself for the inevitable accosting. As he approached, he raised his hands to show that he meant no harm. "Easy. Got a message for the vice-prefect. Is she in?" “Depends on who’s askin’,” one of the guards grunted. “What’s the password?” Rook’s face twisted into a practiced, rueful smile. “Wasn’t given one. Had a feeling this would come up. I asked, you know. Dikona said I should just mention her name- the message was originally meant for her, but she insisted I deliver it here, too.” He shrugged. “You can send a runner if you want, I’ll wait. Not trying to make things hard for anyone. Mention Loysius and she’ll know who you mean, but then someone has to explain why things got held up and it won’t be me.” He made eye contact, deliberately not blinking. “I was told this couldn’t wait, you know?” Activating Harmonious Presence Method reflexively, rolling Presence + Manipulation + 2-die stunt for 12 dice: @Chaos Triangle, you rolled 3,4,4,4,4,5,5,7,8,9,9,10 for a total of 6 successes The guard exchanged looks with his counterpart on the other side of the stairway. “...Shite. Of course that crazed bitch would be behind it.” Hooking a thumb, he pointed at the way forward. “Go on up, but make it quick. The vice prefect’s on the brink of a breakdown. Don’t push her buttons.” Rook beamed. “Wouldn’t dream of it, brother- I’m just a messenger.” He took half a step forward, then paused. “Not to be a bother, but which office is hers…?” He hunched his shoulders, looking as bashful as he could. “Hate to ask more of you but I do need to know where I’m going.” The guard sighed. “Third floor, fourth down the hallway to the right. Double doors with a star on them. Now come on, get going. I don’t want this to fall on my head if something goes wrong.” “Already forgotten your face, no worries.” He swept up the stairs without so much as a backward glance and only exhaled once he was halfway up the second flight. So, he thought. We know where one of the Council’s offices are now. Good place to start. He followed the guard’s directions, arriving at the double doors described in short order. Look around. The corridor seemed empty, for now; he pressed his ear to the door, listening for any activity within. The doors were made of heavy wood, but through them, Rook picked up some quiet mumbling. “...even a day left. Insanity, can’t believe...Stynfalia...owes me so much...” The voice sounded female, and frayed. It looked like the vice-prefect was currently in her office. Simply walking in was out of the question, then. He inhaled deeply, bracing himself, and knocked. “What?!” The voice called out, clearly annoyed at the interruption. “Who is it…? ...Ah, dragons take this. Come in!” The vice-prefect’s office had been lushly decorated...once upon a time. Meant as the dressing room for the theatre’s stars, it had been overloaded with paperwork, which laid sprawled across the ground in a terrible mess. Rook entered slowly, careful not to make direct eye contact even as he took in as much of the room as he could. “Pardon the interruption, mistress.” “Yes, yes, I know. Let’s cut the pleasantries and get on with it.” Aurhava Cielle looked as bad as her room did. Her dark brown hair fell down messily past her shoulders, half-covering her face with wayward locks, and what little of her eyes Rook could see looked exhausted, with heavy bags underneath them. Her hand shivered uncontrollably as she waived away protocol, either from a lack of sleep, an excess of stimulants, or possibly even both. “State your business and make it quick. So much to deal with still. So many things to worry about before sunrise...can’t stop, can’t sleep until then, until it’s all done...” she muttered under her breath, seemingly forgetting he was there “I can only imagine, mistress. I…” He swallowed hard, hesitating for effect. “Xu says there is something urgent to discuss, privately. I know you have enough to consider already, but I was told this was too urgent to wait until morning.” “Oh, for the love of...that absolute nitwit!” she exploded, slamming her fist against her desk in frustration, sending several parchments flying. “It’s only been a few hours since the last meeting. What’s the problem now? Hmm!? Out with it!” Rook flinched. “I- I don’t know! I was only told that she needed to speak to you, urgently! And not here, I don’t know why!” “Then where? Don’t waste my time, you useless fool. Tell me where she wants to talk so I can get this over with.” The sigh that followed could only have been heaved by a woman who felt she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. “I don’t know where, mistress. She said she’d meet you in the last place you spoke other than here- I swear, that’s all I know.” He took a moment to steady his breathing, theatrically. “I apologize for being the bearer of bad news, mistress, truly.” “A messenger just to tell me she wants to play mindgames with me. That bitch has lost her mind.” The vice-prefect grit her teeth. “...No. I don’t think I will. Go find Xu and tell her I refuse. If she wants to waste my time, she can drat well do it herself by showing up to speak with me.” She pointed a single, trembling finger towards the door. “Out. Now!” Not the reaction he had hoped for- it seemed relations within the council were even worse than Rook could have foreseen. There were two obvious options, here: one, to withdraw and wait for an opportunity; two, to press forward and try to create one now. If time had not been so short, he might have felt like there was a choice. Instead, he immediately took the second path, dropping to his knees in supplication. "Please, mistress, I beg you, if you must strike me then strike me and if you must kill me then kill me, but I was told failure would not be tolerated- and if I must fail I would have it fall solely on my own head, not my family." He didn't raise his head- he'd spent too many hours training for this to make that sort of mistake- but he did take note of where Aurhava was standing, ready to bolt if he had to. "I was told a surrogate would be acceptable, as well, if anyone else on the council has your trust." Socialize + Manipulation, burning 3 on an excellency for 16 dice total: @Chaos Triangle, you rolled 2,3,3,3,5,6,6,7,7,8,8,8,9,10,10,10 for a total of 12 successes Judging by the way the vice-prefect tensed up, she was seriously considering not caring about his request. Eventually, however, she let out her breath in an explosive hiss. “Fine. I could use a shouting match, anyway,” she said, picking up a missive from her desk (and scattering the rest of the papers on it to the winds). “I’ll go deliver my response myself. Dismissed.” And without another word, she stomped out of the room, looking ready for a war as she did so. When she slammed the door shut behind her, it shook on its hinges from the sheer force applied. Rook stayed where he was, counting heartbeats. When he reached ten, he sprang toward the vice-prefect’s desk, scanning the scattered papers for anything that jumped out as important- House seals, recognizable signatures, anything. Rolling Investigation + Perception, spending 8m on a full Excellency @Chaos Triangle, you rolled 2,3,3,4,4,4,4,5,5,5,6,6,7,9,10,10 for a total of 6 successes The parchments were almost numberless, and with his deception as fragile as it was, every second counted; But fortunately, Rook’s sharp eyes missed nothing, and a certain missive, half-hidden underneath a wardrobe, caught his eye. It bore the seal of House Ledaal, but modified to feature a ceremonial urn at its center. The personal seal of Ledaal Duc Jiang, the King Amidst the Ashes. The penmanship it bore upon its surface was precise, sharp and clean. quote:My dearest Cielle, Interesting. He paused for a moment, evaluating his options- there was no telling how long he had before the vice-prefect returned, so he would have to be satisfied with this for now. He decided, too, against taking the letter with him, lest its absence be noted. Still, it seemed too early to withdraw entirely… His eyes alit on the vice-prefect’s desk, noting a box of wax and a sealing stamp. Blank, of course, she had certainly taken her personal seal with her, but this would do in a pinch. A quick application of candle-flame and a blank piece of parchment was all it took; simply flashing a sealed message at the right time would go much further than most would assume. With one last glance, he slipped out of the office and up the hallway, looking for his next mark. “Well, well, well.” A voice forced Rook into a dead stop. It came from the end of the hallway, wreathed in shadows, but he didn’t need to see to know who it belonged to. “I was expecting a few skulkers tonight, but none quite this interesting. Hello, Rook. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” The figure that stepped out of the darkness was unmistakable. Somehow, someway, Vens Rayosh had found his way to the Daosheng Theatre. No. It took a moment for Rook to will his heart to start beating again and relax his posture - not to mention slip his hand off the handle of one of his knives. “Rayosh. Jishal, if I remember?” He glanced down the hallway. “As pleasant as meeting an old colleague is, this doesn’t seem like the best place for a conversation. You wouldn’t happen to have somewhere more private…?” He chuckled wryly. “Unless you’re working for someone who won’t mind you talking to strange intruders, of course." “Not at all. A little polite hallway chat won’t hurt anyone.” Rayosh’s thin lips spread into a broad grin, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I wasn’t expecting someone of your caliber to appear here. What brings you to the offices of the committee, my old acquaintance?” “Would you believe me if I said pure curiosity?” He returned the smile, eyes not blinking enough. “I could ask the same of you- I thought you hated working late hours. Whoever’s paying you must be quite flush.” Keep it light. Don’t give more away than necessary. “Ahh, I wish.” A theatrical sigh escaped Rayosh’s lips. “This is a favor, I’m afraid. You could say I’m the one paying here, in the form of a debt of loyalty. Disappointing, isn’t it? Almost as much as having to mention you were here, really.” The spy shook his head sadly, then shrugged: “Ah well, so it goes. As I see it, we’re now presented with a conundrum about what to do with your presence here, my dear Rook. Would you like to hear about the options I’m entertaining?” “Alright.” poo poo. Rook threw up his hands. “I give up- you have me at a disadvantage, I’d be an imbecile not to hear you out.” He paused. ”If you don’t mind me speculating, I imagine one is running to tell whoever it is that’s commanding your loyalty, at least one of them’s an offer of some kind in exchange for not doing so...” He swallowed hard. “...And if I’m very unlucky, one of them might be ensuring I’ll never trouble you again.” “A fairly accurate analysis of the situation,” Rayosh remarked, as he leaned in against the wall to stare at him, a look of amusement on his face. “Save for a few details. The first is that there are two options for your safe exit on the table. In one, we stage a production as I chase you out, security is tightened —genuinely tightened, I’m afraid—, and you need a disguise of some sort to come back in. In the other, you vanish like a shadow, and the one to whom I owe a debt remains none the wiser about your little infiltration. Which of course leads us to the second detail in which our assessments differ.” And here, he crossed his arms. “I’m not the one who needs to make an offer here. What is each of these escapes worth to you? I’m willing to be reasonable here —all I need is something meaningful in return.” “I’m… Not sure what I have to offer you, honestly. Not yet, anyway.” Rook sighed, privately relieved. “This is a messy one, and you caught me early- I barely know which way is up yet. Too many players.” He sucked air through his teeth, trying as hard as he could to look reluctant. “For safe exit on its own... Noninterference should be enough, I’d think. I don’t mention you, and you don’t mention me, at least specifically. I’ll even promise to direct anyone I’m working with toward any of your rivals, as best I can; I’d need to know who you’re aligned with so we don’t end up at cross-purposes by accident, though. As for what discretion’s worth…” He frowned, running over what he already knew, weighing it against their history. “I’ll give you two offers, and you’re free to take neither. One option is this,” he said, flashing the sealed roll of parchment in his sleeve. “This is all I had time to take from the vice-prefect’s office. I’ll answer any questions you have about its contents, who it came from, who it’s for, right now, honestly. The other…” A pause. “The other option is an IOU. A commensurate favor of some kind, to be negotiated to your satisfaction. Assuming my name carries that kind of weight.” He shrugged. “Or, if none of those is to your liking, you can always draw steel and tell me the closest room that has a window to the street.” *** ’These folk sure welcome any free drinks here.” Grace thought ruefully. He figured trying to get past the guards meant passing himself off as one of the workers. He wasn’t sure he could fast-talk his way past, so that meant trying to catch any of them leaving from where guards were blocking the path. He hoped that he’d find people thirsty enough, and perhaps loose-lipped enough, to talk about what was back there, and see how… desperate people were. If all worked out, he could just walk right in with a crew, and nobody would bat an eye about it. If only they didn’t go for the expensive wines… Fortunately for Grace, one of the street vendors had set up a rice wine stall, and the workers had congregated all around it, sitting in the doorways of nearby homes or on the few stools that had been brought in. One particular boy caught his attention -- his freckled face was red with the telltale marks of inebriation, and he was laughing quietly as he continued to drink alone. This could be a good target to start off with… With a cup of wine in hand, Grace took a seat around that corner of the Theatre. “Good evening!” he said, trying to be heard over the hustle. “Quite a madhouse tonight, isn’t it?” “‘S nuts, ‘s what it is!” The freckled youth agreed, nodding vigorously and spilling half his cup as he did so. “Been hammering down nails to make these gods damned platforms all day long! Sunrise to…*hic*, to sundown! And I gotta do ‘nother shift soon too…’least the pay’s good, innit? Makes up for the hours a…*hic*, lil’ bit.” “Oh! You’re with that throng?” Grace gestures to the other workers. He offered his cup to the youth, the vendor wasn’t too far. “Sure as m’name’s Valon, yeah,” the young man said, taking the cup eagerly (after draining his first, of course). “Part of the construction crew, jus’ like them. ‘N’ you? Who are you with?” “Well, no-one just yet. I just got here myself you see. I’m Grace, nice to meet you Valon, and I’m looking for new work. I figured asking around would help me with that.” “Work? At this hour?” Valon stared at him, trying hard to keep his eyes focused. “Are you drunk too? ‘S way too late to go asking for work right now...should come back tomorrow. The foreman might be interested in an extra pair of hands then.” Grace tried and failed to hide his disappointment. What bad timing! It seemed that he should’ve made his work quick back in the Alley. Still, maybe he could plead to Valon to relent. “I... I had plans to come looking for work here tonight, but I got distracted by other matters. I thought I could find something that could pay off, but… well… I figured it’d be through the night, with how sudden all this is. ” He trailed off. “Not wrong…” Valon murmured into his glass as he drank. “Boss told us we’d be working from one sunrise to the next. If we don’ get this done on time, it’s gonna be our hides hangin’ from the…*hic* ropes, not lanterns.. We can’t jus’ take anybody this late, though...we need more people, but mistakes waste more time than extra hands save.” “It sounds like quite the problem you have.” Grace could see an opening. “I guarantee you that I won’t muck anything up here if you take me on. You won’t regret it Valon.” “‘S not my call to make, though...tell ya what,” Valon said, composing himself a little. “Foreman Domai’s gotta be around here somewhere, probably makin’ sure people don’t slack on the job. Find him ‘n’ tell ‘im I sent you and see if he’ll let you in. If he thinks you won’t cause trouble, then…*hic*, then that’s good enough for anyone else.” “Thank you so much!” Grace smiled, “Could you point him out to me?” Valon looked around for a few moments, but then gave up with an annoyed grunt. “Don’t see ‘im...meh, you can’t miss ‘im tho’. Tanned, bald head with purple tattoos, huge like an aurochs...sticks out anywhere he goes. Won’t have any trouble findin’ him.” Grace thanked Valon again before saying his good-bye, and took off looking for the man in question. Not too hard to spot the man in question, though Grace wished he knew more beyond what Domai looked like. The way the youth spoke of Domai it sounded like he’d be in a bind, a coin-toss for whether he wants work fast, or work done right. Valon was certainly not jesting. Finding the foreman turned out to be quiet easy —after all, the way he was dragging a blind-drunk worker kicking and screaming back to the theatre made for an easy tell. He was, if anything, even more imposing than his subordinate had suggested. He almost reminded Grace of the warriors of Kether Rock, so poised and tall was he. Well if Grace was going to approach a man from the Rock, he knew what would happen. It would turn into a proving match, and that’s how rivalries were made. Better he knew more about this man, and hoped that this impression was wrong, or if the Solar in him needed to speak instead. Easy enough to watch him as he dragged the drunkard beyond those doors, and the other workers on break as they stared, or not stared if this was something the others dreaded. pre:@AnonymousIdiot, you rolled 1,7,7,9,9,10,10 for a total of 8 successes Well, the opportunity of getting in was slipping away. Better act now. “Hey!” He said aloud to get Domai attention. “You Domai?” The foreman turned around, fixing Grace with a withering glare. His muscles tensed up. “Who’s asking?” “One of your boys, Valon, pointed me to you for a shift. Said you were looking for as many people as you can get.” The foreman sized him up. His clothing didn’t quite suit a workman, but at least it wasn’t a complete mismatch. “We do,” he said. His voice was slow and guarded. “Only if they’re hard workers, though. Are you?” “Of course! And working ‘till dawn’s no big issue for me.” The foreman turned around and took a step towards him, raising his outstretched hand. “Prove it.” Grace raised an eyebrow at this but answered the challenge, the instructors at the Rock would usually issue this sort of check. Something like this meant that either he was going to be pulled aside, or expecting to be pulled. That meant getting the form right, weight on the heels, and move only the shoulder and back while the rest locked up. Grace reached for Domai’s forearm. pre:@AnonymousIdiot, you rolled 3,4,6,6,10 for a total of 2 successes. Domai also rolls Ath + Strength, and gets...2 sux! “Good.” With a sudden tug of his arm, Domai disengaged, letting go of Grace in the process. It felt like he could’ve pushed harder...but for whatever reason, he was satisfied with what he’d seen from Grace. “You pass. We work all night and stop at sunrise. A quarter-talent of silver will be paid to you in the morning. If you quit or you slack, you’re out. Are we clear?” To that Grace grinned. “Fine by me. Lead the way.” With a curt nod, the foreman turned around and headed for the entrance. “What are you all waiting for? A royal escort?” he barked as soon as he saw his subordinates by the doorway, staring at them. “Get inside! Now!” The guards offered no resistance against the deluge of humanity that rushed through the doors following the foreman’s command. With Domai ahead of him, Grace had no issues getting in. Inside, lavishly furnished hallways had been stripped bare of their rugs and portraits to allow peasants who would never be able to afford entrance into the Daosheng Theatre to tromp around unimpeded. They all converged in the central room where the theatre’s stage awaited. Inside said room, pandemonium abounded. The seats had all been removed to make room for hundreds of builders, who tirelessly endeavored to complete two distinct, yet equally herculean tasks at the same time. The first was dismantling the theatre’s traditional stage, a beautiful marvel of woodcarving artistry that also happened to be nightmarishly complex. With its status as a keystone of the theatre’s aesthetic, only the most skilled craftsmen were allowed close to it, as the process of dismantling it had to be done carefully and in a piecemeal fashion, to ensure it could be remade once the tournament was finished. The rest of the men and women were working on setting up the stage, built to exacting specifications (five rising tiers, each one smaller than the last, representing advancement through the tournament and the elemental cycle; Three frontal platforms per tier save for the last one, representing the three terrains upon which Gateway pieces waged war: land, sea and air), and setting up the mirrors high above so that spectators who were not fortunate enough to be able to afford one of the spectator boxes that encircled the central room would be able to track the games as they were played. As the workmen filed out to continue their tasks, Domai put a hand on Grace’s shoulder. “First thing we need to do is expand the base stage. For that, we need to place the supports...” he said, pointing to a large pile of wooden logs the size of a man, and just as wide, “...on the back end, so it doesn’t collapse. One yard between support columns, and two yards between rows. Can you handle it?” “Right.” was all Grace said as he went to it. Best thing he could think of was to use his cloak as a makeshift rope to tie the logs together in a bundle, and carry it over his shoulders. @AnonymousIdiot, you rolled 5, 5, 6, 9, 10 and spent 1 willpower for 4 successes, close, but not quite enough to hit the difficulty of 5. These logs are heavy! It was a solid plan, but the logs were so heavy they unraveled the cloak’s knot when he was almost to the stage, causing them to spill out behind him. “Don’t bite off more than you can chew, rookie!” Domai’s admonition was sharp and harsh as he stepped in to pick the logs’ tail ends back up. “This is a marathon, not a sprint. We don’t give bonuses out to workers that rush things. Pace yourself and you’ll get more done over time. Now come on, let’s get these logs under the center of the stage where you can place them.” The foreman’s words were gruff, but he seemed less angry at him than exasperated by his impatience. With his assistance, it was easy to carry the materials the rest of the way to their destination. “Now plant them like this,” he demonstrated, picking one of the logs up and aligning it with the support behind his back. “And then lift it up and push the stage upward so it fits, like so.” It was a tight fit, but he managed to squeeze the support in-between the top of the stage and the ground. “Now do it yourself,” he said, crossing his arms. “And don’t let me catch you trying to rush!” For his part, Grace was embarrassed with himself. Like getting caught by the instructors during drills. At least he didn’t have to start from the very beginning. Still, it looked like eyes were on him for that display. Trying to find Rook in the offices might take longer. Nothing for it, then... Grace thought, and went to work with the rest of the logs, though keeping an eye on the other workers here. If going up was impossible without a calamity, the best he could do was see if someone else could in his stead. Someone bribable, or desperate, looking to get ahead. Maybe… set up a distraction with the supports... pre:@AnonymousIdiot, with Dexterity+Martial Arts you rolled 1,1,6,6,7,8,8 and spent 1 Willpower for a total of 4 successes As he looked on, Grace’s teeth clenched, though not too long, lest someone spotted his horrified gaze. He turned away, eyes closed, and the Solar side pushed him forward to the backstage, and up to the offices. Each step he took was weighed down with equal parts guilt and dread. Not for what may lie in wait, but for the people who may have found themselves caught in his recklessness. That pit was quashed. Despair was as much an enemy as the man who swears vengeance. Grace still had a mission to fulfill. He only hoped none took notice and followed, or that perhaps someone else had the same goal the two of them had… pre:@AnonymousIdiot, you rolled 2, 2, 9 for 1 Success; Gain 1 Limit The path to the upper levels was mercifully unguarded, thanks to the commotion. As such, Grace had no issues making his ascent...though hearing Rook’s voice stopped him cold. “I’m… Not sure what I have to offer you, honestly. Not yet, anyway. This is a messy one, and you caught me early- I barely know which way is up yet. Too many players. For safe exit on its own... Noninterference should be enough, I’d think. I don’t mention you, and you don’t mention me, at least specifically. I’ll even promise to direct anyone I’m working with toward any of your rivals, as best I can; I’d need to know who you’re aligned with so we don’t end up at cross-purposes by accident, though. As for what discretion’s worth…I’ll give you two offers, and you’re free to take neither. One option is this...this is all I had time to take from the vice-prefect’s office. I’ll answer any questions you have about its contents, who it came from, who it’s for, right now, honestly. The other…the other option is an IOU. A commensurate favor of some kind, to be negotiated to your satisfaction. Assuming my name carries that kind of weight. Or, if none of those is to your liking, you can always draw steel and tell me the closest room that has a window to the street.” ’poo poo!’ Grace moved as Rook talked, walling off whatever he said. Everything became a reflex, to close the distance to the threat, and end it before it acts. In the back of his mind, Grace hoped that Rook can keep this stranger distracted, keep talking or perhaps get him to speak up.... pre:@AnonymousIdiot: With Dexterity+Stealth you rolled 3,4,7,8,9,9,9, and spent 1 Willpower for a total of 6 successes. “An interesting set of offers,” Rayosh replied. “Though I do think one of them is particularly attractive. What do you say, then, to—” Suddenly, Rayosh froze mid-sentence. Turning with a speed that only someone with Rook’s speed could track, he turned sideways and stretched his hand out towards a nearby hallway exit. A trio of knives embedded themselves into the wall, missing Grace by inches as he appeared round the bend. “Well then.” Rayosh’s voice was genial, but his other hand was now on a nearby cane, resting upon the wall — a cane which, if it was the one Rook remembered, concealed a sword within its insides. “An interesting interruption, to be sure. Friend of yours, I take?” ...And unfortunately, Rayosh aces his Perception + Awareness roll, hitting exactly 7 six to catch Grace skulking around.  “An acquaintance. One I’ll vouch for.” Rook’s eyes flicked over to Grace and he shook his head slightly, hoping the message would be clear. Don’t do anything drastic. His gaze returned to Rayosh, trying to keep his counterpart’s attention focused on him. “You were saying?” “As I was saying, I had an offer to make you in exchange for my silence and your safe passage, yes,” Rayosh said, lowering his cane slightly. “Though of course, this does not include your friend. He’ll have to pay another toll, I’m afraid. There are two pressing tasks that require my attention, and which I cannot afford to focus on at this moment. First, there is the matter of an assassination attempt on the prefect’s candidate, who recently arrived to the city. Pure hackwork, but the message the attack was meant to send is what concerns me. Find out who was behind it, and why. As for you...” he said, gesturing at Grace, “...There is the matter of the Geomantic Response Squad. Its captain has been exceedingly neglectful in cooperating with the theatre’s security, and seems busy pursuing some sort of pet project. Work out what it is and give her a reason to stop wasting her time with it and go back to focusing on her actual tasks at hand. Any questions?” pre:@AnonymousIdiot, with Perception+Investigation, you rolled 2,4,4,8,8,10, and spent 1 Willpower for a total of 5 successes pre:@ChaosTriange, with Perception+Investigation, rolled 1,2,2,2,2,3,3,3,3,5,6,8, spending 3 motes for an Excellency for a total of 1 success Rook spoke first. “We’ll need a way to contact you. Where can you be found?” “Visit the New Rose gardens at the Foundation district. You will find me soon enough. Now, if that’s all...” He clapped his hands. “I suggest the window at the end of the corridor to your right. There’s a cotton cart stationed underneath that will cushion your fall. And remember, make your hours count! You have a single day to find what you need.” “Wait… is one not related to the other?” Grace had a lot more questions, like, ’What makes you think I can talk down that woman?’ or, ‘Why are you being so relaxed with security all around us?’ or ‘Do you just want us out of the way here?’ But… neither of those things would have been much help… He looks to Rook for a moment before returning to Rayosh. “Not at all as far as I can tell, save for the Captain’s negligence. I am handing these tasks over to you precisely because they are not connected. I trust you as far as I can throw you, you understand — no offense meant by that, of course. An isolated emergency is the perfect sort of thing to employ a pair...shall we say, freelancers for.” In the distance, the sound of approaching footsteps could be heard. “And with that, it seems our time is up. I would suggest making yourselves scarce. The less I have to explain to the vice-prefect about your intrusion, the better. Do take care, and remember not to come back empty handed, hmm?” "You keep your end and we'll keep ours." Rook made eye contact with Grace and gestured in the direction of the window Rayosh had indicated. "You go first. I'll follow shortly." He locked eyes with Rayosh before speaking in Guild Cant. <Nothing's changed, Rayosh. Regrets are cheap but they're more than I'd like to pay.> And with that he was gone.- AnAnonymousIdiot fucked around with this message at 05:16 on May 10, 2021 |
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The Unfortunate Ones Scene: Nepenthe District, Chapterhouse Boarding House Squat and blocky, the Chapterhouse was unlikely to win any prizes for its architectural design any time soon. It was, however, very solidly built, and Sun had to grudgingly grant the city’s Immaculates that much. Other members of their order would have been content to bless the city’s poor and downtrodden with cheap, ramshackle housing built with sticks, cheap wool and prayers, but this place was...different. If anything, it reminded him of home, beneath the Graveyard. Here, the destitute could get back on their feet, and begin chasing a new future. And here, an alleged philanthropist visited often, seeking a youth that bore a mysterious connection to her past. The lights of the Chapterhouse were low, but not completely out yet. Clearly its denizens, like almost everyone else within the Nepenthe, did not turn in early. What was the best approach he could take here to avoid trouble, then? Would it better to attempt a stealthy approach, or was the solution to simply knock on the watchman’s door and ask to be let in with a plausible excuse? Or perhaps there was another path he could take? Again, Wandering Sun wondered how he’d come to find himself so far out of his depth - investigating children and speaking to Immaculates. It was dangerous, but not the kind of danger he had experience in facing. Nonetheless, he steeled himself and approached the watchman’s door. He’d had the whole trip there to come up with a story, and he hoped it would hold up. He gave the door a polite knock. A few minutes passed before a very sleepy Immaculate in a nightgown opened the door. “If you’re looking for a cathouse, you’ve got the wrong side of the street,” he intoned grumpily, in the practiced way only someone who’d been forced to say the same thing many times before could. “Otherwise, can I help you with something?” Sun looked a little offended, and why not, because he felt a little offended as well. “I’m not here for the cathouse. I’m here because I want to help.” He reached into his vest and pulled out a purse - the one Enma had given him as payment for the legbreaking he’d done earlier that day. “I was told you needed support?” The watchman blinked, twice, and then rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “...Not to say it’s not appreciated, but we’d be just as happy to accept donations tomorrow,” he answered, much more calmly than before. “What brings you here so late, sir?” Wandering Sun shrugged a little awkwardly. “I keep odd hours. I have no idea if I’ll be able to come tomorrow. These are chaotic times.” Certainly, Sun looked tired, and very much like he’d experienced those chaotic times directly. Though the injury on Sun’s cheek had already faded, thanks to Li’s assistance and his own preternatural toughness, it had still left an angry red mark on his cheek that could’ve easily passed for a welt or a bruise. Upon noticing it, the watchman nodded, knowingly. “Aye...that they are, sir. That they are. There’s been an influx of new arrivals to the Chapterhouse recently, and it’s not likely to abate any time soon...but don’t let me burden you with our troubles,” he caught himself. “The matron is likely still awake right now. Would you like to speak with her about how you’d prefer your donation to be used, or should it be kept anonymous and up to her discretion?” Sun was a little relieved that the conversation had relaxed a little, though he tried not to let his guard too much. Charity or not, it was still enemy territory. “I would prefer to speak with her, yes. This seems to be a well-kept place, but I’d feel better if I could know where the money is going.“ “As you wish, sir,” the watchman said, stepping aside to let Sun in. “Follow me, I’ll take you to her office.” The Chapterhouse’ hallways were quite dark, lit only by the stubbornly enduring remains of half-melted candles. Quiet chattering filled the air, coming from beyond closed doors. It must have been the residents discussing their days and their future with each other, no doubt. A few times, Sun caught a glimpse of eyes staring at him through a barely-open door, but for the most part, the place seemed peaceful. Eventually, the watchman led him to a pair of unadorned wooden doors and carefully knocked on them three times before venturing beyond them. A few instants later, the doors opened once again and the watchman took up guard outside, ushering Sun in. The first thing Sun noticed about the matron was her youth. She couldn’t be more than twenty five summers old, and most likely less than that. Her skin was too smooth and her eyes too round and open; age had not yet began to wear down the quiet optimism within them. She was writing a letter as he came in, but after a moment, she looked up, smiled and stood up to greet him with a deep bow. “Many blessings upon you for visiting us in this hour of need, kind sir. My apologies for the disorder,” she said, gesturing at the mass of astromantic charts sprawled upon the desk. “We rarely receive visitors at this time of night. I am Misara, matron of the Chapterhouse. The dragons must have smiled upon us, to bring you to our doorstep tonight.” She spoke with the quiet confidence of someone who had absolute trust in the path she’d chosen to walk in life — one who believed in the fate preordained for her, and the good following it would bring. “Before we begin, would you mind indulging my curiosity for a moment?” she asked, as she picked up a quill and parchment from the desk. “When we receive a donation, it is customary for us to write down the motive that drove our contributor to part with his or her wages to aid the needful, that we may better understand what wellsprings kindness flows from. In our eyes, all motives are of equal merit, even those of a late arrival, Mister...” “Niu. Please, call me Niu.” Sun had a feeling his more experienced circlemates would not reuse a pseudonym like this, but he’d had enough trouble making up and responding to the first one that he didn’t care to risk a second. “My reasons are...well, it’s a long story. But the short version is that I grew up in a small village, and whenever people were in need, we took care of one another. And this city is so big that it seems people fall through the cracks, and it breaks my heart. Especially for the young.” It wasn’t too far from the truth - while he obviously didn’t agree with the broader mission of the Immaculates, he was used to the more communal lifestyle of Vision of Light and thus not prepared for the scale involved in helping the needy in Falling Ashes. The smile that lit up the matron’s face at Sun’s words was small, like those of most men and women who spent their lives confronting misery and hardship, but bright and sincere. It suited her youthful face well, even if it made her look very young for her station. “I’ve never been outside the city before. Dealing with its abandoned children is enough to eat up anyone’s time.” “You’re an honorable person for this.” Wandering Sun felt a lot of sympathy for the matron, which certainly made him feel guilty for the lies he was surrounding himself with. She seemed sincere in her mission, and Sun found himself hoping that her calling towards helping the less fortunate was secular rather than the false faith of the Immaculate Order. Sun pulled out his purse once more and set it on the table. “What could you do with this? Specifically, I mean? My boss is always telling me to be specific.” Matron Misara’s expression became pensive. “Hiring workers to restore the southern wing would be the first priority,” she said, after a moment. “There was a scuffle between two rival gangs not too long ago that resulted in its walls being demolished. Some of our older guests managed to keep the fighting from spilling into the rest of the Chapterhouse, but the rooms have been crowded ever since. Only the bravest or most foolish people sleep underneath an open sky in Falling Ashes. Besides that...” She closed her eyes. “It’s not as important as making sure everyone can live in comfort, but I’d like to hire a doctor to come check up on the boys who stood up for us. Carus insists all they took was bruises, but I fear they may be hiding fractures just to look tough. Untreated injuries can lead to more permanent damage, and I...” Her expression changed as she spoke. Her concern was clear, but it was not the same type of unfocused, all-encompassing care that had been clear in her words before. There was a different kind of anxiety to it -- the sort that came from a personal fear. “...Apologies, Master Niu. There has just been a lot on my mind lately. I’m sure I’m just worrying overmuch.” “These are difficult times.” It was an entirely non-controversial thing to say, and he said it mostly to cover him thinking about whether any of this was relevant to his mission. Fortunately, there was at least one matter he could help with. “Some friends of mine work at the Flower. They’re only orderlies, but I can see if they can spare a doctor to check up on them.” Still, there was something else she said that caught in his mind. “There were children who fought the gang members? That’s terrible...” Surprisingly, the matron let out a little laugh. “They’d be very upset to hear you call them children, I think. Most of the boys who stepped up to defend us have come of age already and stuck around to help the Chapterhouse out. But I guess you could say anyone who hasn’t left is a child of the orphanage, still.” After a moment, she turned serious again. “It was a very messy incident. Ordinarily we would’ve just locked the doors and called for the guards, but after seeing the way that brute punched a hole in the wall, none of us thought it’d be enough to hold them back. So instead, our older boys got their attention and led them on a wild goose chase. Between their distractions and the ongoing brawl, it bought enough time for the watch to arrive and disperse the gangers.” Wandering Sun gave the matron a slightly rueful grin. “I must admit, the time when I first thought I was a man was considerably earlier than when those around me finally agreed. But if they’re risking their lives for their fellow orphans, they’re brave if nothing else. How many orphans do you keep here?” “Around two hundred. We’re one of the largest orphanages within the Nepenthe, though I wish we had fewer children to look after. I’ve tried to find some of them homes, but few people are willing to take in children not their own and look after them properly. And with slaver groups on the prowl for easy targets, verifying that a prospective parent is honest takes so much time it tests even the patience of the willing.” The matron sighed and brushed away a stray lock of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes. “A poet once said work is the name by which we catalogue a thousand concerns and aches. Has your own work presented you with this much trouble, Master Niu?” “The horrors of your job, it’s...I don’t know how you can handle it.” Wandering Sun’s first instinct on hearing about slavers preying on orphans was to demand names and addresses, and then to go there and personally mete out justice with his sword. Fortunately, training and lectures from his mentors let him suppress that instinct for the time being, no matter how satisfying butchering slavers might feel… “My work is troubling, sometimes. Though not nearly so much as yours, it sounds like.” Sun tried to remember his ‘cover’, and wondered if this was when he should interject some of it to throw off suspicion. “But when I feel troubled, I try to do something for someone who needs help. It makes me feel better.” The relation between the statement and the purse he’d just set down on the table seemed clear. “Ah. I see…” The matron clasped her hands. “I am not a member of the Immaculate priesthood, Master Niu, but I’ve learned at their feet since I was a child, about expiating sins, letting go of guilt and finding forgiveness.” For a moment, she glanced at the door behind him and then nodded firmly. “My door is closed. If there is anything that troubles you about your life that you wish you could get off your chest, don’t be afraid to speak up about it. Whatever you share will not leave this room. It’s the least I can do for someone so generous.” Wandering Sun felt guilty about lying to the matron, and even more so after he learned that she was not, in fact, a part of the priesthood. He tried to reassure himself that this was all for the cause of the Illuminated, that even if he was doing something wrong here, it was in the service of the greater good. But to assuage his conscience, he knew he had to at least say some of the truth. “It’s...it’s simply that the way I earned the money troubles me. I don’t want to keep it, and this seems to be a worthy way to spend it.” Sun sighed, and he knew some of the guilt he genuinely felt was displayed on his face. “But I should reassure you, the money is not stolen, it was given to me. No one will be looking for it back. I just don’t want the reminder. It’s a foolish thing, really.” Misara rolls Presence to Inspire Sun into confessing what ails him to alleviate his burden. She gets 5 successes, matching his Resolve, but a timely stunt from him allows him to resist! Misara nodded. “Did you know your work would make you feel that way, going into it?” she asked, inviting him to say more -- but not forcing him to. Sun shrugged, trying to coach himself back into a neutral expression. “I didn’t think it would be pleasant, but it was necessary. And if I can turn it into hope for someone else, perhaps it was worth it.” He realized belatedly that he was getting a little off-track on his mission. “I know you can’t tell me details, but I am not the first to donate to you for these sorts of reasons, am I? ” “Not at all. Only one of the most honest.” There was a hint of humor in Misara’s voice as she admitted that fact. “More often than not, large donations stem from a guilty conscience and a desire to make amends. Lately, we’ve seen a regular stream of them come in. It’s what’s allowed us to take so many children in.” Wandering Sun felt a little bad when he was called honest, but he was getting used to the feeling. And then he felt a little more bad when he realized he was getting used to it. “Truly? I wonder what has so many people feeling generous?” “It’s only conjecture, but I suspect the recent trade wars are to blame. Most of the donations aside from Lady Kalina’s have been from merchants, many of them enjoying a recent surge in their fortunes. Are you familiar with the struggle between Lady Jaya and Mu Min Cho, Master Niu?” Wandering Sun wasn’t sure he could reason out the political intricacies of what he was hearing and also keep up his ‘cover’, so he simply tried to remember as much as he could so he could put it together later with some help. “Not really in any specific way. Though I imagine they’d be rivals, right?” “The master of Falling Ashes’ markets and the young upstart seeking to challenge him,” Misara confirmed. “Lady Jaya’s been waging war on all fronts, seeking to depose him. Many of her followers have visited the Chapterhouse and other houses of the needful, seeking to pay back some of the trouble they’ve caused. And...” She was about to say something more, but fell silent, seemingly having decided against it. “...and?” Wandering Sun cocked his head to the side in confusion, not really acting anymore. “I’d hate to think of the orphans being used as a proxy in a war between merchants.” @Green Bean, you rolled 1,1,2,4,4,5,5,6,6,10,10 for a total of 5 successes “...It’s nothing like that,” Misara said, after a moment. “Yet, at least. Several of the merchants indicated they’d be interested in teaching the children of the orphanage a trade. They even suggested they’d continue to donate to support us if any of them showed initiative. I declined, but that battle between gangs I mentioned...it was fought under the Grandmaster Spider and Lady Jaya’s banners. I don’t know what it is they’re looking for, but their actions scare me. If this keeps up, I fear they’ll try to pressure us to join them more directly.” She fidgeted with a hairpin as she spoke, spinning it in her right hand. It was an ornate, beautiful thing, at odds with the spartan decor of the Chapterhouse, covered in gold and encrusted with small diamonds. Wandering Sun leaned forward, noticing the hairpin and its incongruity with the surroundings. He felt like he was being handed important pieces of a puzzle, but nowhere to actually put them. “I don’t understand. What advantage do they gain from that? Surely they don’t lack for potential apprentices outside of the orphaned and destitute.” “There’s many children in the streets whom we’ve yet to reach,” Misara agreed. “But few of them have the favor of the Immaculate Faith, or easy access to its priests and temples. “It is one thing to appear poor and inoffensive, Master Niu. It’s another to be trusted.” “So they wish to support the Chapterhouse to look as though they are supporting the Faith?” To Wandering Sun, though, he was certainly of mixed opinion on whether being indoctrinated into the Guild or the Candlemakers were really worse than being taught the Immaculate Faith. “Are they really so pitiless, to use children like that?” “Not just to support the Faith, but to spy on it as well,” she confirmed. “And I believe so. Some of them may have scruples, but many are desperate to preserve the power they have, or seize the wealth and influence they’ve long been denied. And they will do so by any means necessary.” “Well, I’m glad you are here to see to their interests.” Wandering Sun was admittedly concerned about an apparent battle for the hearts and minds of the city’s poor and destitute children - one that the Illuminated didn’t seem to be a part of. “How did you come to this position, if I might ask? You said you were not a priest, right?” Misara opened her mouth to speak, but before she could utter a single word, another voice cut in. “Because her kindness and candidness were plain for all to see. She will be a saint of this city some day, even if we do not manage to stake a claim upon her.” It was a voice as limpid and beautiful as a sunrise over fresh snow, that belonged to a woman who wore an elaborate Immaculate robe, made of silk and embroidered with golden thread. Her every step carried the grace of a dancer’s best routine, and her blue eyes shone with zeal and sincerity. She did not close the door as she entered the office, moving instead to stand by Misara, who practically fell over herself trying to pay proper respects upon this new visitor. “Y-you’re much too kind, reverend mother. I’d never dream of calling myself a—” “And yet, who’d call that description anything but the unvarnished truth?” Said the woman in the Immaculate silks, settling her down upon her chair with a light touch that nevertheless was as firm as a hammer blow. “I see you have a visitor.” Her eyes took in Sun’s looks and the bag upon the desk in an instant. “A new donor, at this hour of night? What brought him here?” “Master Niu wishes to contribute to the reconstruction of the Chapterhouse, reverend mother.” Misara spoke quickly, far less composed and confident than before as she kept her eyes glued to the new visitor. “It was his hope that his wages might buy a ceiling underneath which the children may rest in proper comfort.” A slight smile spread across the Immaculate woman’s lips, pure and beatific, and it was at that moment that Sun felt the full intensity of her presence weigh down upon him. This woman was Holy. Not in the sense of belonging to the clergy, or even of possessing a high rank within it. Faith radiated out of her from every pore, so clearly and completely that it almost seemed to make the air around her waver like the heat of a bonfire. It was nothing like anything he’d seen before, save perhaps for the reverence Master Shen Aru was awarded by those who spoke of him...and here, there was no one to sing her praises. This could only be the head of the Immaculate Faith in Falling Ashes, the abbess Felicity-of-Flowers, who protected the needful and the ailing, who had personally caught and fed dozens of believers in the true faith to her ever-burning pyres. And she was staring right through him, as though she could see the secrets within his soul. “Is that so? Then I am fortunate to have had the chance to meet such a pious, well-meaning man.” In a moment she was beside him, and it was like standing next to a mountain, even though he had a good eight inches on her standing up. “Give me your hand, brother, that I may bless you. It is the least I can do to help my precious pupil repay such a kindness.” Wandering Sun did not have much of a conventional poker face. In social situations, unless he was concentrating very hard, his emotions tended to play out on his face in very obvious ways. However, in battle, that was less of a problem - when his life was in danger, he detached himself from his emotions and simply followed his instincts and training, at least for the most part. And that was what saved him; most of the time, when he felt a presence like the abbess’, it was on a battlefield, and he instinctively detached in response. Fortunately, he was smart enough not to pull a blade on a Dragonblooded in the middle of an Immaculate chapterhouse. And after that moment of detachment, he forced himself back into the moment, letting the surprise he actually felt (and, he hoped, it would be reasonable for Niu to feel). “Reverend Mother!” He bowed his head in what he hoped was a respectful way, trying to remember any of the lessons he’d had in Immaculate courtesies. He was taller than her, but he knew from experience that wasn’t as much of an advantage as people thought. And the Immaculates’ higher ranks were filled with warriors - he knew if he made a mistake here and things came to blows, he couldn’t count on an easy fight. There were a hundred ways to tell, imperfect though they were - how she kept her balance, the way she moved her arms, whether she glanced at his sword arm… @Green Bean, you rolled 3,4,5,6,7,8,9,9,9,10 for a total of 7 successes With the abbess’ presence casting such an overwhelming shadow upon the scene, a normal warrior never would have noticed that a pair of thin strands of silk were wrapped around her index and middle fingers on each hand. They descended down her wrist into the depths of her sleeves, nigh-on invisibly, and reminded Sun of a certain trick he had heard of, used by assassins to conceal blades...but the strands were so fine, they would snap under the weight of even the lightest weapon, if not handled with utmost care. For the abbess to store her weapons in such an inconvenient fashion with such confidence, she must have been either a great fool, or a tremendous warrior....and judging by her stance and poise, his money was on the latter. He might be able to defeat her, but it would not be a simple matter, nor a quick one, and reinforcements would likely interrupt the engagement before it was over. Best to tread carefully here, and keep combat a last resort. All of this information came to Sun in a flash, a veteran’s intuition that skipped thought and went straight to understanding. Less simple was her request - a blessing from an Immaculate abbess was...certainly not something Sun wanted, and he didn’t know enough to be able to say if strings might be attached or there’d be some strange elemental sorcery involved that could expose him. On the other hand, to refuse her would no doubt be incredibly rude. He bowed his head once more. “I am...not worthy in the Dragons’ eyes. Perhaps when I have attained that worthiness, I could accept.” @Green Bean, you rolled 1,1,2,3,6 for a total of 0 successes. That’s a botch! The abbess’ smile widened. “Yes...I suppose you couldn’t. Enma’s Fangs have much to apologize for. It is a display of unbelievable temerity on your part to show up here, so soon after your fellow thugs helped wreck the Chapterhouse with that terrible brawl of theirs.” In any other circumstances, that smile would have been as precious as a gift. Here and now, it was enough to make Sun’s skin crawl. Misara let out a little yelp and almost fell off her chair, staring at Sun with a look that mixed confusion and betrayal. Sun couldn’t hide his look of fear this time, and he backed away from the abbess, openly eyeing the door this time. He considered pulling a weapon, but he stopped himself before his hand could so much as twitch - running would be bad, but fighting would be disastrous. He noticed the look on Misara’s face and felt his guilt come back, though the feeling made him realize that despite his first instinct, his cover hadn’t really been blown here. Mostly because his cover was what had actually happened to him. So instead, he doubled down; despite his relative inexperience, Sun was quick on his feet. “I had no idea they did that until you said that! I hadn’t met any of them before this morning!” His tone was clearly upset, but clearly not at either of the two Immaculates. “Oh, child,” the abbess said, shaking her head sorrowfully. “You must know how hard it is to believe that. Do you have any proof? Can you prove it? You must know that lying is a sin, and lying to a member of the clergy an even greater one.” She took a single step forward, folding her sleeves together. “If you embrace your guilt and accept your punishment, the pain will soon pass. Do not make this harder on yourself than it has to be.” She scarcely looked like she could be convinced, but Misara was not so certain. She shot him an incredulous look, not understanding why he’d chosen to defend himself so. It was a very peculiar lie… “I went to a bar looking for a job, and I got one. I worked for a bad person, and I came here to make amends, but…” Sun felt like he should be playing guilty here, begging forgiveness and so on. But as he spoke of amends, it rang hollow. He felt angry, at the Immaculate abbess who was judging him, and at himself for having done things that made her justified in doing so. He honestly had intended to switch to a more conciliatory tone, but he didn’t know how to do it without being dishonest. His pride and conscience felt wounded, and all he could do was defend himself. He slammed a fist down on the desk, not trying to damage it, but making a loud noise nonetheless. “But things are not that simple! I didn’t steal or cheat or harm anyone who did not mean me harm in turn. There is a war being fought in Nepenthe. The Guild is throwing people out of their homes, and I helped stop some of them, that is all! If I had not, I promise you there’d be many more people on the street right now, begging for your aid.” “Bad people used for good ends...it’s not something I’m happy about. But it was what you were going to do too, wasn’t it? With my money?” He slid the purse across the desk, putting it out of his reach, but well within Misara and the abbess’. He didn’t feel like he had much hope of convincing the abbess of much, but he felt like he needed to justify himself to the matron at least. “You ask for proof? Show me to any of the witnesses to the fight that you have here; it sounds like there were dozens of them. None will recognize me. I can swear that to whichever Dragon you wish.” It was a slightly absurd offer - obviously none of them had time to gather up a bunch of children to do an impromptu criminal lineup. But he delivered it with the crude earnestness of someone who couldn’t even convincingly deliver an insincere apology. @Green Bean, you rolled 1,1,3,5,7,7,8,9,10,10,10 for a total of 11 successes Abbess Felicity sighed. “Unrepentant to the end...so be it, then. If you won’t listen to reason, then there is nothing left to do but—” “Reverend mother, please wait a moment.” Misara’s voice, shaky and uncertain, was so unexpected as to throw the ever-zealous abbess into silence. “I don’t think he’s lying. The boys spoke of vicious, ugly-looking brutes, not baby-faced young men, even when they had the chance to get a good look at them. I don’t think Niu was part of the street brawl that tore up the Chapterhouse.” Sun was a little put out by ‘baby-faced’, but this was not the time to argue that. “Even so, we cannot forgive the attempt to sneak into this house of mercy under false pretenses, Misara,” the abbess replied, glancing back at her briefly. “A wolf in sheep’s clothing must be chased away before the flock is devoured. There is a punishment due for deception, and it must be carried out to set an example for others who might try to take advantage of you and the children.” “I agree, reverend mother. But I don’t think lashing his skin or forcing him to taste the fire will set him on a path of redemption.” Her voice was steadier now, closer to that confidence she’d shown before the abbess had dropped by to visit. Sun could see her hands clinging to the edge of the table for support as she stood up, as though she was certain to fall down without the furniture to keep her upright, but there was no trace of fear or uncertainty in her eyes. “He says he’s tired of bad people being put towards good ends...should we not help him become a good man then?” “Always,” the abbess said, nodding in agreement. “The dragons deny their infinite mercy to no one, provided they are willing to atone for their misdeeds. But if not a punishment of the body, then what sort of atonement do you propose?” Misara didn’t answer immediately. She wavered, her body shaking like a leaf under the intensity of the abbess’ withering stare. She tried to speak, and her words died in her throat. Tried again, and somehow, she mustered the strength to force them through. “He said he stopped people from being thrown out of their homes. Let him prove himself as a guardian, protecting the Chapterhouse.” Wandering Sun hadn’t been angling for a specific result, or trying to play the two off against one another - at least not deliberately. But Misara’s idea was certainly one he hadn’t considered. He didn’t want to work for the Immaculates, but he couldn’t deny that it would be an important position for the Illuminated’s efforts. And a chance to lead innocents away from the clutches of the Dragons. But his voice was not part of this argument, at least not yet. He simply lowered his gaze to allow them to reach their conclusion. “Misara...” Turning her attention away from Sun, the abbess approached the young matron, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Think about what you’re saying, child. You’d be putting the children’s lives in the hands of a man you scarcely know. Does your mercy allow for such risks to your charges?” “There cannot be mercy without trust, reverend mother.” Somehow, in spite of the effect the abbess’ presence had on her, arguing doctrine with her seemed to give Misara strength. “If we only believe in others when it is convenient, then do we truly believe they can be redeemed? Or do we speak of redemption only for our own vanity’s sake?” For a moment, the abbess said nothing. Then, she nodded, slowly. “You will be exalted, one day,” she said, her voice thick with pride. “The city shall sing praises to your name.” She shot Sun a look. “Would you do this? Know that if any harm befalls the Chapterhouse under your watch, the sentence shall be death. The unfortunate ones it houses must be protected. On this, I will brook no compromise.” Wandering Sun met the abbess’s gaze. “That death would be entirely deserved. I will protect the unfortunates within this place with my life.” Sincerity blazed in his eyes, as this was a promise he had few issues making. He had no problem swearing to protect orphans and the destitute - though in his mind the Chapterhouse did not include the faith. “Then so be it.” The abbess spread her arms. “Return to this house tomorrow, Niu, and listen to the matron’s requests. She will know what to do to ensure your redemption.” With a deep bow towards Misara, the abbess headed towards the door. “It pleases me to see this matter resolved so quickly,” she said, as she opened the door, looking over her shoulder. “With this, I feel like my business here is concluded for the evening. Take good care of each other, children. Good night.” The door closed softly behind her. As soon as they were alone, Misara collapsed into her chair, exhausted. “She is just too much,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “I hope I can stand in her presence without feeling like I’m melting someday.“ Wandering Sun was a little better at hiding it, but he definitely felt like he normally did after a lengthy sparring session. He sat down in his chair as well, rubbing his temples. “She’s...very intense. Does she stop by often?” Her presence would definitely escalate the danger in Sun’s work in this place. “Every few days at most,” Misara murmured. “I don’t know what she sees in me that interests her so much. Cross your fingers when you do your job. If it goes too well, she might end up taking a shine to you as well.” Wandering Sun had noticed that the abbess had been surprisingly encouraging to Misara, and his natural cynicism about the Immaculate Order made him wonder if there was an ulterior motive. Right now, though, he had a job to find out about. “I don’t know if doing too well is the danger here. How can I help? I could certainly be a night watchman if that’s what you need, but I’m not really sure what you need…” “Having someone else to assist Kolsi in keeping watch wouldn’t go amiss, but you’re right about that. What we need is for these turf wars to stop so we don’t have to stay up and alert, waiting for something bad to happen.” She shot him a questioning look. “You wouldn’t happen to have any idea what these gangs are looking for, would you?” Wandering Sun considered what he knew about Enma or the Guild, which admittedly wasn’t all that much. “I assume they’re looking for money or territory, but beyond that, not much. And I don’t know how they’d find that creeping around here. You’re respected for what you do, but I don’t think that’s the kind of power gangs are usually after.” “I don’t think they’re after us, so much as this area in general,” Misara said, nodding in agreement. “There is an unfortunately high concentration of brothels and gambling dens all around us. You can just cross the street and find yourself staring at one, in fact. I don’t know anything about how such places operate, save that they’re very popular with certain kinds of people...and that popularity makes money. I wouldn’t mind if they closed up shop, but I don’t think they will any time soon — and so long as they’re still around, I suspect there will be still more fighting over them. Hmm...” Glancing up at him, Misara shot him a thoughtful glance. “...Maybe you can handle their influence better than the children of the house could. Try visiting them to see what they know tomorrow. They might have a better idea of the reasons behind these constant battles than we do.” Sun considered the neighborhood. He admittedly had his mind on other things when he’d first come to visit, but the area did seem a little...separate from official authorities. “I mean, I could try? There must be some specific cause - it sounds like this much fighting is new.” He’d never really been in a gambling den, nor a brothel. He’d barely been in bars. This could be a challenge… “It’s definitely something new — or maybe something old that’s finally been remembered. This street’s always been a busy one, but fighting’s not something we’re used to. You’ll probably have to chase this up the chain. I doubt anyone who’s just working nightly will know anything, but maybe their bosses, or their bosses’ bosses, will know something.” “Do you know who runs which place? It might be best if I don’t crash places related to Enma’s faction.” Wandering Sun had no idea how people like Rook could keep all these multiple allegiances straight. He wasn’t entirely certain, but he had a sense that he was currently at least two betrayals deep. “I’ll have a list by the time you come back tomorrow,” Misara promised. “It’ll take some doing but I’m sure we’ll be able to work something out quietly. Will you need anything else?” Wandering Sun had been so keyed up that he’d completely forgotten that it was, in fact, quite late in the evening, and everyone really should be sleeping. “I don’t think so. I will return tomorrow. And I was serious about knowing a doctor. I will try to bring him with me to look at your injured children.” A slight smile touched Misara’s lips. “I knew that was the dragons whispering in my ear when I spoke up in your defense. Thank you, Niu. I hope you can sleep well tonight. We’ll do good things tomorrow.”
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May 17, 2021 22:23
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The Teacher and the Prodigy Scene: The Graveyard, Starlight Medical Centre, Past Midnight It was a quiet night back home as Boulder and his two companions arrived at the Starlight Medical Centre, which meant there were still a dozen medical personnel of all stripes running about, and the moans and screams of pain from the patients had mostly receded to uneasy murmuring as they slumbered. As soon as they crossed over the threshold, an orderly was upon them. Sister Lia, he recognized, one of the more promising new recruits. “I’m sorry, visiting hours are over, sirs. If you’re looking to speak with one of the patients, you’ll have to...Boulder? Is that you?” she asked, blinking as she glanced at Alik and Master Gen and quickly took stock of the situation. “Who are these people?” As always, novices began by helping out at the medical centre before being assigned other duties. Such was Master Lin Zhen’s philosophy: “If you cannot take care of the needful, do not expect to be given a chance to take care of any more delicate work,” she used to say. Here the novices learned efficiency, speed, kindness and discretion. All good traits for agents in the field, along with a hardened heart from encountering people they could not save, most necessary for when botched operations called for triage. “Friends, Sister Lia. Who you never saw. Clear?” said Boulder. “Um, yes, of course,” Lia said, nodding nervously, and then seemed to remember something. “Before you go, some supplies just arrived at the stimulants’ storage room that need to be catalogued, the sooner the better. Do you think you could look into it, Boulder?” It was a coded message, of course. That meant said storage room was empty, and there would be no witnesses when they took that entrance. As always, the brothers and sisters of the Cult kept each other appraised of relevant developments to ensure the secrecy and safety of their order. “I will, thank you Sister,” replied Boulder. “It may take quite some time to take care of that, if you could ensure I’m not disturbed while I’m working.” Boulder led the other beastmen into the small storage room. “Wait here, please.” The Lunar considered warning them not to try any of the stimulants, but decided that if they did it would mean they might not be suitable for the task after all. Boulder opened the inconspicuous closet door at the back of the room and carefully stepped over the layer of dust artfully arranged in front of it to suggest disuse. He then proceeded to track down Master Lin Zhen. It took questioning several brothers and sisters to suss out the Master’s location. As always, she was a private woman, and her locale was only a matter of public knowledge when she wished it to be so. Tonight, she had remained within the School, located in one of the tunnel networks just barely below the surface, where the children and novices of the Cult learned their precepts and trades. Rather than favoring one of the now-empty classrooms or libraries, however, the Master had locked herself up within one of the cells used for private study. When Boulder knocked on the door, it took a few moments for a slight click to be heard. “Enter.” The Master sounded tired, but her eyes were as alert as ever as she watched them come in, her hands resting on a walking cane. “Brother Boulder,” she said, acknowledging him with a nod as a hello. “It’s an unusual hour to seek counsel. Tell me what brings you here.” “I recruited a young beastman to work for us. He can go deep in the main tournament as long as he has no unlucky pairings and is clever enough to be a useful set of eyes. In payment for his services, I offered a few moments of your time to answer questions. I judged this more practical than his original request to travel to the House of Bells and receive answers from a preceptor,” reported Boulder. “Did he ask for his reward up front or after his task has been completed?” The Master asked, sharply. “He did not specify. I believe he will carry out his side of the bargain regardless. I also judged that your answers to his questions may improve his chance of success in the tournament.” “Interesting...” Lin Zhen stared off into the distance for a few moments, pondering the matter. Then, she stood up. “Very well. I will speak with him tonight, then. Let us get going. Do not walk too quickly; It’s late, and I am weary.” The trip back to the surface went by in silence. The Master rarely shared her thoughts before a matter was concluded, and tonight was no exception to that rule. Soon, her and Boulder returned to the Starlight Medical Centre. “You’re the one Boulder went out to fetch,” Lin Zhen said, a few moments after coming in, her eyes fixed upon Alik, who shrank under the severity of her gaze. “I am told you have questions for me. What are they?” Alik gulped, clearly intimidated by the Master’s presence. “I...well…” A reassuring hand on his shoulder from old Gen helped steady his nerves. “Well, my first question is...why do you need someone to sponsor? Do you want me to win?” The seconds ticked away as Lin Zhen stared down the young ratboy, but to his credit, Alik did not flinch. After a few more instants, the Master nodded. “No, I do not. And it’s good of you to ask. What I require from my candidate isn’t victory. It’s a symbol, behind which the downtrodden of Falling Ashes can rally.” “A-And I’ll be a good one because I-I’m young, u-underprivileged, and part of a pariah race?” Alik ventured. “I see why Gennadiy Alabishev, White Lion of Ma-Ha-Suchi, chose you now, boy.” Lin Zhen did not smile, but her eyes brightened up, just a little bit. She raised her hand. “Boulder, take the old general outside. I wish to answer the boy’s questions privately.” Boulder nodded and retreated to the outer room with Gen and the Gateway board. “Your master is well-informed, it seems,” Old Gen muttered, as soon as the door closed behind them. He didn’t quite fall as he sat down (his pride would not allow that), but the shaking in his hands was unmistakable. “Care to play a game with me while we wait?” Boulder’s lips quirked at the old lionman’s words, but said nothing as he slid an empty, rickety table over to the general’s chair and set down the Gateway board. He rocked the table experimentally, then retrieved a wedge-shaped rock from the basket of them in the corner. He shoved the wedge under one table leg, tested it again, and sat. “Let the annihilations commence, master Gen,” said Boulder with a smile. “I’m not so sure we shall see annihilations tonight,” Gen replied, taking out a set of pieces and splitting them up into identical sets with the speed and finesse of someone who had done so many times before. “We’ll start with identical forces, to make things simpler. Have you ever played Gateway before, Boulder?” Boulder grunted a no and tapped his slave collar. “Then we’ll start from the beginning.” Quickly, the most abundant pieces (and none others) were laid out in one section of the board, in neat little rows. “Footsoldiers, pitted against each other. You can move them in any direction, but for now, let us simply drive our forces forward into battle. What do you expect to happen when we clash?” Gen asked, as he made the first move, sending the piece at the center of his front rank forward. “Stalemate until one side breaks, then carnage as they are cut down from behind,” Boulder answered. “I’ve cleaned up battlefields.” “Precisely.” The match was resolved in a matter of minutes. With little strategy or forethought put into it, the pieces fell one by one, until only a few were left. “This is the most basic level at which the game can be played. Enthusiasts call it the fool’s game, as it aptly represents the level of command inept tacticians are capable of. Though it is possible to play a complex, thrilling version of the fool’s game, most players will never reach the point where they can do so. Instead, they graduate to the next most complex version of the rules, where pieces with differentiated movements and skills take to the field. This...” he remarked, as he handed Boulder a few of the archer pieces and began deploying his own, “...is known as the soldiers’ game, as even a rudimentary understanding of it helps warriors understand how best to make themselves useful in the chaos of the battle. Suppose I march my army forward, in the exact same way I did before. How would you best seize victory?” “Shoot you when you can’t shoot back.” Old Gen’s face brightened. “Precisely. And just like that, an insurmountable advantage is achieved.” And with a wave of his hand, he tipped his footsoldiers over. “Suppose I get the same bright idea, however. It is, after all, a sound strategy. This puts us back to square one, as we shoot each other’s army down. There are more pieces to introduce, but let’s assume no other innovations in terms of material are forthcoming for now. We must use our brains to improvise and adapt, so that we can cleanly overcome our opponent.” Picking the soldiers back up, the lion-man placed them down some distance away...and then, he put the archers in front of his melee forces. “This is how formations are introduced to the history of warfare. Using the same forces to achieve something different! In this case, that something is threatening your advance if you simply send your soldiers charging forward into a hail of arrow fire, with your own archers unable to respond, stuck behind the frontlines as they are.” He pushed the smaller, less dense archer line forward one set of tiles, and his eyes flashed with excitement. “And now, the real game begins. Your move.” “What is the goal?” asked Boulder. “Victory, as in all games.” Gen’s lips split into a wide smile. “But that’s not a very good answer. Gateway possesses several victory conditions, but for this particular match, your goal is to wipe out the enemy’s forces. We’ll call this a battle for survival, the simplest and most deadly of all types.” Boulder grunted mild disapproval at this definition of victory. “What’s the weather like? Is there useful shelter nearby if it’s bad weather?” “Suppose the weather’s placid. It never is on a day of battle, speaking from experience, but games allow us to dream of better things,” Gen said, chuckling. “There is the shelter of your base camps, but they are not fortified, and would make for poor arenas. Few things are more flammable than tents in a well-equipped camp.” “Hmph, bad weather is better so we can hide somewhere comfortable while you wander around looking for us and getting tired. Bribery? Negotiations? Sneaking into their camp and killing the commanders?” Old Gen let out a booming laugh that earned him angry looks from a few nurses passing by. “Enough! You’re clearly no ordinary slave, Boulder. Instead of accepting this simple tactical challenge, you’re already looking for ways to break it to pieces. The game of soldiers is beneath you. Considering the factors of the environment, morale, weather and many others is what prospective players graduate to when the game of soldiers loses its appeal. That is the game of commanders, where victory is won by positioning and preparation before battle.” As he spoke, the old lion-man began rearranging his army across the board, swelling its ranks while moving to encircle Boulder’s, and taking up fortified positions in rocky locations and high places. “You’re a quick student, so consider this now. When you cannot rely on superior forces in a straight up engagement, when the composition of what forces you have is ill-suited to countering the enemy’s army, and when you fear the enemy commander is at the very least your equal, if not your better, what, or more correctly, who do you turn to?” “Exalted,” said Boulder. “They are finicky ones to manage, if they can be managed at all,” Old Gen said, nodding soberly. “Below the fourth level, the game is played with a single such hero.” And with this, he took a piece of notably higher craftsmanship than the others out of the box, wrought out of ebony. “The commander. Destroy the commander, and it’ll be a rare army that still goes on to win the day. The fourth level is the game of strategists, played by perhaps two in one thousand players, where other heroes join the commander in his plight. Peerless warriors, secretive spies, and even noncombatants like a genius logistician, who enables the army to fight with better morale and equipment if properly placed. And then there is the fifth level, highest of them all, the only level at which the game of Gateway is truly complete. It adds no new pieces or factors, no new segments to the board — the sole difference between it and the game of strategies is one rule.” The old lion stared at him seriously. “You’ve done well so far. Let us see if your grasp of Gateway is as keen as I believe it might be. What is the rule that makes such a difference as to separate great players and true masters?” “You can only see the enemy pieces your own pieces can see?” “Almost! That is an optional rule, even at the highest levels of play, though only because of the difficulty of ensuring its proper implementation. Few want to fiddle with a set of miniature curtains to cover pieces of the map, though I suspect the knockout rounds of this tournament might employ it. No, the final rule goes beyond the gameboard itself. It is the capacity to draft your own army, according to your whims and theories, to a certain limit in unit values, and to add unique features to the board. It is not enough to simply make good use of your forces and the battlefield to be victorious in war. The game of generals begins before the first move, when they choose the sort of campaign they will wage. To outthink your opponent before war has even been declared, to ensure there is no chance of victory for them whatsoever from the outset — that is the true essence of Gateway.” “Hmm. What kind of unique features can you add to the board?” “Fortifications. Cities to take and hold. Marshlands, and dry lands, and inclement weather of all kinds. Rivers, to slow down the opposition, and to speed up travel between locations. Even relics that offer powerful advantages to the hero who claims them...novice players will load up on units that get in each other’s way and are cumbersome to manage, but masters will choose only the forces that best suit them, and then stack the deck in their favor.” As he spoke, Gen took out the last few pieces from the board, as well as thin strips of wood in various patterns, denoting environmental features. “It is difficult to remember all these options, no doubt. But so is the burden of commanding an army, and it is only fitting that Gateway faithfully represents this fact.” “What are the abilities of all the different heroes?” What followed was a rapid summary of the heroes, and there were more than a dozen. Some were terrifying fighting forces, and some were subtle and required unorthodox thinking to see their uses. As the explanations continued, Gen helped Boulder assemble an army that would suit his preferences. Boulder selected a number of Dragonblooded heroes, each able to ignore or take advantage of various terrain features. The rest of his points he put into criss crossing rivers, blizzards, volcanoes, deserts, etc. “Do you have an army you use when you know nothing about the opponent? It seems unfair if you were to pick now, having seen all of my choices,” said Boulder when the selection process was complete. “In point of fact, yes.” It only took a minute for Old Gen to assemble a collection of pieces. His army was far larger than Boulder’s, and much more standard, combining cavalry, archers, foot soldiers and siege weapons in balanced ratios to create a flexible fighting force, led by a battle-ready commander. Four things set it apart from what might have passed for a novice’s configuration: first, a large number of scouts. Second, a single excavation site at the center of the map, filled with relics of the past. Third, a single talented assassin, able to move about unnoticed, and capable of dispatching even great heroes in an ambush. Lastly, a pair of hulking warbeasts, to accompany the main force and serve as battering rams. With all the pieces selected, Old Gen spread them across the far end of the board and nodded. “Now then, Boulder. Shall we?” Boulder grunted affirmatively. He placed his lake in the center of the board and looked at Gen. Old Gen responded with some scouts. Boulder’s thick forest cut them off from much of the rest of the board. And so it went, with Boulder responding to each of Gen’s placements with another natural hazard. The Lunar did his best to ensure that no space on the board was too far from each of the types of terrain in which his pieces excelled and that there were few spots where Gen’s forces could assemble in large numbers to initiate a pitched battle. Rolling Wits+Survival as a complementary skill to lay out the board to best suit Boulder’s personal fighting style and the DB heroes he has selected to best mimic his own skills. Jupiter: @Bouquet, you rolled 1,6,7,8,9,9,10,10 for a total of 8 successes. Thanks to so many successes, Boulder gets to add 3 non-charm dice to the decisive roll. Boulder’s strategy was certainly successful. As the game got underway, Gen had no choice but to split up his pieces, sending them into several small engagements with his opponent’s more mobile forces that, while certainly not unfavourable in the short term, would almost definitely tie them up and gradually wear them down. Though he retained a core force near the center of the map that could not be confronted head to head, if the heroes Boulder had selected managed to eliminate their targets and assemble, his victory would be all but assured. “Hmm. Not bad, not bad at all...” Gen mused, as he eyed the map after the fifth round had concluded. “Thus far, your stratagem has proceeded without a hitch. Of course...so has mine.” Gently, he tapped the marker indicating the excavation site, which his forces had surrounded. “A common army has no chance against great heroes such as yours. An uncommon army, however, stands a great chance, and that is precisely what exploring the legends of old achieves. The more I plumb them, the more my forces shall innovate upon their doctrine, and the greater their capabilities will grow. Now that enough time has passed to claim my first prize, I think it shall be...this.” And with that, he attached a small, triangular base unto his assassin piece. “Magically enhanced transportation, with which to traverse the map with greater ease.” The lionman’s wizened old face broke into a crooked grin. “Now then, let’s see which battle plan best survives contact with the enemy, shall we?” Old Gen makes his own supplementary roll here, using Lore+Int to supplement his game skill. He gets 3 successes, enough to reroll exactly one die on the decisive roll. What followed was a very long, though fast-paced game of Gateway, full of twists and turns. For a good dozen rounds, neither side seemed to have the advantage, as Gen’s assassin managed to use his massively improved mobility to inflict several of Boulder’s heroes with a weakening poison, at the cost of sacrificing the warbeasts to pin them down. Slowly, however, the strain from waging many nonstop battles began to take its toll on them, and the upgrades Gen applied to his mundane foot soldiers allowed them to better withstand the attacks of the Princes of Earth while dealing back some damage in return. The battle then reached a protracted stalemate, as both sides broke off to tend to their wounds, until a brilliant sacrifice on the part of Gen, offering up his commander, allowed him to encircle Boulder’s forces in a trap they could not escape. In the end, after a bloody battle, only Gen’s scouts and footsoldiers remained. As soon as the winning move was made, Gen clapped his hands. “Magnificent!” he said, his eyes twinkling with joy. “I haven’t had such a thrilling game with anyone but Alik in a very long time. You’re a natural at this, Boulder. It truly took an uncommon army to bring your forces to heel. Just think of it! Most players would have overvalued their commander, seeing themselves in her, and never would’ve thought to sacrifice the piece. Against such an opponent, your guerilla tactics would no doubt have won the day. What lesson has this game taught us?” ‘Us’, he’d said, and not ‘you’. A conspicuous choice of words, no doubt. Boulder said with some confusion, “I don’t think that’s how gorillas fight. Is it?” Old Gen laughed for quite some time at that comment. “Hah! Not gorillas, my friend. Guerillas, warriors who battle an opponent who is far superior numerically by outmaneuvering, outspeeding, and outlasting their forces. It requires great mental fortitude to wage a protracted campaign in this form, as all personnel and materiel is precious and irreplaceable, and this was as good a campaign of that sort as I’ve ever seen. Truly, you understand how to fight smarter, and not harder. I simply must speak with your master about continuing your Gateway studies beyond this night...if you are interested, that is. A talent such as yours deserves to be cultivated.” At this, Old Gen offered Boulder his hand. “What do you say? Is the art of proper warfare something you’d be interested in learning?” “It’s all very stressful,” grumbled Boulder (who had exhibited very few signs of stress over the course of play). “And I don’t see how someone like me could ever end up in command of soldiers.” The Lunar took Old Gen’s hand. “But if I do, why not be ready for it?” “Excellent! Let us quickly review how the engagement played out. First, there was the matter of the battlefield, and how each side made the most of it…” He was about to begin a long, detailed explanation when they heard a knock. Standing at the doorway were Alik, and Lin Zhen. “I seek out your pupil, and in no time you begin to seek out my slave. You move fast, Gennadiy Alabishev,” said the Master of the Flower Amidst the Ashes, her face inscrutable. “I trust he’s made for good company?” “He is a diamond in the rough, and it’d be a waste of his talents to relegate him to menial chores,” said Old Gen, his voice impassioned as he gestured towards Boulder’s bulky frame. “You are under no obligation to accept this offer, but listen well: let me teach him and he will become ten times as valuable to you before a month has passed. I promise you this much.” The look on Lin Zhen’s face as she eyed Boulder was pensive. “We shall see. We shall see. Answer me honestly. Will this interfere with your duties?” she asked him. Boulder grunted, somehow managing to convey that he had no idea what was going to happen in the future and what his duties would be in those scenarios, that was her job. “If master Gen will forgive a few missed appointments with no advance notice, I think it will be possible. His classroom is conveniently located.” “Handle your tasks, then, and you may go see him. But no earlier than that.” And with that, the matter was settled. “As for young Alik, he has agreed to represent me at the tournament.” There was a pause, and then Lin Zhen gave a nod of acknowledgement. “His questions were sharp. You chose him well.” Alik, who seemed remarkably nervous even for him, opted not to speak, and instead merely swished his tail sheepishly. “We all come away winners today, then,” said Old Gen, a satisfied smile upon his face. “That rare circumstance which all policy makers desire. Alik and I shall take our leave now, then. It’s late, and we will have to enroll him in the preliminaries tomorrow.” He turned to Boulder, and gave him a deep nod of respect. “I hope you can come find us soon, Boulder. I pray for a smooth ending to your tasks tomorrow.” “Thank you,” said Boulder. He watched the beastmen walk out the door, then gave a little head tilt to Lin Zhen. A few moments later, a raiton launched from the roof. It shadowed the old lion and the young mouse on their walk home, then made one final high circuit of the city to assess its mood before turning in for the night.
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May 18, 2021 06:20
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A Brighter Tomorrow, Chapter 2: Before the Starting Shot Scene: Ashatthama Residence, The Foundation, Just Before Sunrise Mnemon Stynfalia, prefect of Sorana, awoke with a start moments before a knock sounded on her door. Trouble, she thought, kicking off the bed sheets and quickly seizing a robe from a nearby chair. Probably not the kind that required retrieving her darts from her desk compartment, but trouble nonetheless. Her intuition had never failed to warn her of incoming dangers before, and she had no reason to distrust it now. Who could it be, though? The light coming through her bedroom’s windows was pale and weak, the sort of light that preceded the dawn. Too late for a nightly incursion. This had to be something else. “Who is it?” she asked, leaning against the door to make sure her visitor couldn’t just force it open. Even mere moments out of bed, the prefect was not willing to relinquish any sort of control over the situation to a third party. The voice that came through the polished pine door was rich, confident, brisk and utterly familiar. I was wondering when he’d show up, Stynfalia mused, making a face. He’d certainly been patient thus far, but every man’s patience had its limits. “Open up,” Ledaal Duc Jiang demanded. “We need to talk.“ “I don’t recall making any appointments for that,” she murmured, her voice fairly dripping with malice. The so-called King Amidst the Ashes’ arrogance was on full display today, as always. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t call the guards on you and have you thrown out?” “You’re not foolish enough for that,” he replied, with uncharacteristic bluntness. “You know I wouldn’t show up uninvited at some ungodly hour unless we had something important to discuss. I’m happy to trade barbs for the next half hour if that’s what it takes to secure a proper audience, but we both value our time more highly than that. The sooner we’re done discussing matters, the sooner I’ll be out of your hair.” She didn’t answer him immediately, opting instead to rest her knuckles against her lower lip and consider her options. Jiang had never been one to shed his manners and style if he could help it. He was certainly a snake, but a clever, highly poisonous one. This sort of direct approach was unlike him. Refusing him would certainly put him on the spot —an idea she found highly attractive— but the same instincts that had woken her up before his arrival told her it’d be foolish to blow him off. “Fine,” she said, moving to sit behind her desk that dominated the spacious bedchamber. “Come on in.” He was impeccably dressed in purple brocades and fashionably coiffed, as always, perfectly suited for a high-class social event. The look on his face, grim and solemn, stood at odds with his elegant strides, however, diminishing the glamorous effect the rest of his appearance tried to carry. “If this is about that request of yours Cielle passed along to me, my answer remains the same.” Suddenly feeling a little underdressed, the prefect of Sorana seized a comb and began working on getting her disheveled hair back into its usual immaculately curly shape. Letting a small-town upstart outdo her, even without any witnesses around, was not in the cards. “You’ll have my answer by the end of today, and no earlier. I don’t appreciate being rushed, if you catch my drift.” “Never mind that,” Duc Jiang said, dismissing the idea with a cutting motion of his hand. “Who do you think is the forerunner to win the tournament?” Stynfalia blinked, the comb’s motion briefly stopped. “I must have misheard you. Did you come to my home to wake me up at sunrise just to waste my time with speculation about the upcoming competition? Do I have the right of it, Jiang?” “Of course not. This isn’t gossip, Stynfalia. I need your honest opinion. Who do you think is the number one enemy you need to defeat for the knockout rounds?” She laughed in his face. It felt good, after such a rude awakening. “Of all times to come down with a severe case of dementia, this is definitely the most amusing one you could’ve picked. Good day, Jiang. I’ll see you at the opening ceremony tomorrow.” “Enough with the snide remarks!” he barked, slamming his fist against the desk’s wooden surface. “We have no time to waste posturing when my city, your prefecture, and the entire Scarlet Realm itself is at stake! None of the candidates have made any shows of strength, and their locations and identities are kept a closely guarded secret. Set aside your feelings on your opposition and think. Have you ever witnessed any competition in which there wasn’t a single obvious favorite to measure the other contestants against? Does this not strike you as strange?” Stynfalia’s eyes narrowed, the look on her face matching Duc Jiang’s scowl. “What is your point? Only a fool would show their hand before playing it. I don’t see you advocating for dispensing with operational secrecy.” “Of course not, but this isn’t the same thing as following the Thousand Correct Actions’ best practices. When two nations go to war, they do so having some inkling of their military standing relative to each other.” He breathed deeply, and the next moment, his face had regained its usual handsome composure. “Let’s consider a prospective scenario. If your Smiling Romance met my Shun at the table tomorrow, would you be confident in your chances of victory, or certain of your loss?” It was a strange question, and even moreso because, the more she thought about it, the more she realized she wasn’t sure of her answer. “...Go on,” she said, leaning a little closer to listen. “I have every confidence in Shun’s ability to outwit any of his opponents, but not because I have their measure — not yet. They’re unknowns, and we have no choice but to assume victory is possible to be able to seize our chance when it presents itself. You have as much access to the roll of participants as I do. Do any of them strike you as Gateway geniuses? The reincarnation of Cainan, come a few years before its predecessor’s demise?” Seizing one of the chairs near the desk, Jiang pulled it closer and sat down, arms crossed. “This tournament isn’t simply a bid for power and money — the winner will also gain widespread acclaim as a masterful tactician, brilliant enough to give potential enemies pause. Think about it. Would you want to confront someone who’s proven that they can stay one step ahead of the Great Houses’ brightest representatives at every turn?” Slowly, the meaning behind Jiang’s words began to click into place. “No. And you’re saying there’s no one participating in this competition that we should fear that way, going in. No one to watch out for.” He nodded. “Exactly. There’s always a woman to beat, but this competition defies that piece of hard-earned knowledge. That tells me I’m not looking in the right places for dangerous foes. Do you see something I’ve missed?” Several minutes passed as Stynfalia mulled the question, and whether to answer at all. Jiang was a snake and could not be trusted, but in this moment, he was a frightened snake, and that was something she’d never expected to see out of the cold-blooded bastard. It was enough to make a sickly feeling of dread creep down her spine. Maybe his line of thinking was nothing more than simple paranoia, but for people of their standing, paranoia was rarely unjustified. Slowly, she shook her head. “I thought as much. I’m not here looking for an alliance. What I want is to have someone whose intellect I can trust looking out so they can verify my findings.” He closed his eyes, tiredly. “Something’s not right about this contest. Someone’s got a winning card in their hand that they’ve yet to play, and I want to know who it is and why. This is more than a tournament; It’s a war. If we don’t want to be destroyed by it, it behooves us to be prepared.” “What are you planning to look into, then?” Stynfalia asked, setting the comb aside. For once, Jiang was talking sense. As much as it galled her to admit it, two heads worked better than one. “It’d be a waste of time if we both pursued the same angles.” “The candidates the Great Houses have picked were chosen for a reason. I’m certain of that much. I intend to find out why.” Quickly, he rattled off their names, and the names of their likely sponsors. “We lack information. Once we know more about their motives, we can start to make more educated guesses. What about you? What kind of investigation do you have planned?” “This place is full of third parties waiting for someone to pledge their assistance to, in exchange for a piece of the spoils. You’re used to them, and might have missed something about their actions. I’ll look into them.” “It’s possible.” If the implied insult offended him, he didn’t let it show. “If I find anything unusual, I’ll make sure to let you know. Can I expect the same courtesy?” She nodded. “Of course.” It was not an agreement to share everything they knew with each other, and Stynfalia knew it. It would take something truly strange and dangerous to get either of them to arrange a meeting — and it was for precisely that reason, she realized, that Jiang had chosen to confide in her for this. “In that case, I won’t bother you any longer.” With a nod, he stood up. “There’s still much work to be done before the opening ceremony. Good day, Stynfalia.” He shut the door behind him with a quiet click on the way out. After a few moments, Stynfalia stood up as well, and approached the window, pulling the red curtains of her bedchamber open. Outside, the sky was dark as pitch and deeply overcast. What little morning sunlight filtered in through the clouds was in the process of being covered up by storm clouds. Soon, the sun would be fully eclipsed, and the falling ashes that gave this blasted, gods-forsaken town its name would start to fall. With a sigh, Stynfalia shut the curtains and turned her attention back to the papers on her desk. This had been a bad way to start the day. Somehow, she suspected It was not going to get any better. ((So begins the second and final day of the preparations. As a note for everyone's reference, current XP totals are at 24 XP and 2 Splat XP. You may make whatever purchases you desire with the fruits of your hard-earned labors. And with this, the floor is yours!))
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May 18, 2021 07:01
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Rise of a Workaholic Scene: The Heart’s Beat Clinic, Gem Road District, Sunrise The first thing Fara Li noticed as he awoke was something rough and coarse rubbing against his cheek repeatedly. It was an unpleasant sensation, reminiscent of pressing his face against sand. As the discomfort revived his senses, he realized there was something much lighter and gentler shaking his shoulder. Something familiar… “That’s enough work for now, Fara. Come on, wake up. You’ll end up stiffer than the floorboards if you stay like this...” “Shoji? Ugh…” He opened one eye and studied the smooth black surface of the inkpot in front of it for a moment. Ah. He’d fallen asleep at the desk again. That would explain why his back hurt. He sat up, yawned, and stretched, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with one long sleeve. His living quarters consisted of a single cozy room that contained a small, rarely used bed and a writing desk that was barely visible beneath the texts and papers he was either consulting or penning himself. The rows of medicinal herbs hanging from strings along the ceiling gave it the scent of an apothecary, and the dark wooden walls adorned with paintings and sketches of varying sizes gave it the feel of a tiny private gallery, or perhaps a library, if you included the overburdened bookshelves. The room was situated on the end of the row of dormitories that the Veil of Respite nurses also inhabited, which meant that his head nurse was never more than a few moments away. Shoji was the only other person with the key, and she was often in and out to check one of his books or grab something off the herb strings. Or, as today, to get him up and working when he’d rather continue snoring into the treatise on… what was it? Oh, Grey Lung. Right. He peeked between the fingers covering his eyes. “Please tell me you have some tea.” “Right here. Careful, it’s very hot.” A plate clinked as it was deposited beside him. The teacup was quite strange -- it had a fat oblong shape, with a very small mouth from which to drink its contents. More noticeable than that, however, was the incredible bitterness of the herbs when he moved to take a sip -- like eating mint leaves, only moreso and without the sinus-clearing properties. That, and the nigh scalding heat of the beverage that Shoji had warned him about. Li made a bit of a face. “...are you sure this is tea?” “It’s called mate tea. One of the girls brought it in the last few days. I figured you could use a pick-me-up. It’ll get you sharp and ready in no time.” A little mischievous smile lit up Shoji’s face as she encouraged him as one would a reluctant patient. Wasn’t she having a little too much fun with his reactions? “I’ll take my medicine then.” He sighed and finished the cup, just to make her happy. It wasn’t a bad taste, just an unfamiliar one. “Was there something pressing? Or were you just concerned I’d knocked over the inkwell again?” She bit her lip. “Not exactly. This arrived last night during dinner. Just appeared on one of the eating tables, out of the blue.” Reaching into a pocket, she handed him the same scrunched-up note Fidelity had gotten to see last night. “Is there something I should be congratulating you about?“ she asked, her tone studiedly neutral. “My dearest Doctor Li…” he muttered, reading aloud being an old habit, but what came next did not bear repeating, and by the time he got to the golden kiss at the end he’d turned a brighter shade of red than the spider lilies on the rug under his feet. “This… This is… Dragon’s teats, Shoji-- did anyone else see this?” “Half the staff. They had no idea you were so popular. You should’ve heard the cheers last night.” In that moment, a statue would’ve been less stone-faced. “I asked Lady Ceto if she had any insights on what this meant too. I just wasn’t sure what to think...” At that Li popped out of his chair, crumpling the note as his hand clenched. “YOU TOLD FID-” He stopped and took a long, deep breath. “Well... I suppose that saves me the trouble of not mentioning it to her. I’m very curious what she said.” “I wanted an unbiased opinion,” Shoji answered, undaunted. “According to her, nothing untoward happened, and I think I believe her. She pointedly didn’t comment on that part referring to a paramour, though.” She quirked her eyebrow, daring Li to explain himself. “...she didn’t?” Li said, blinking. “I don’t understand that woman. Either of those women. Women in general.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously. “You know me, Shoji. If I was going to take a lover I wouldn’t hide it from you. I don’t have anyone else to ask about… well, any of those things. I’d need your advice.” She looked away. “...Yes. Of course you do.” Why did she sound so sad? “...How do you feel about them?” she asked, after a few moments. “Be honest.” “I only met the goddess yesterday and we are definitely not on terms where she should be signing her letters this way,” he said. “She’s very beautiful but she’s been playing the games of power for longer than I’ve been alive and she’s too rich for my tastes, honestly. I’m not interested in overnight romances, or being treated as a pet, which seems to be what she favors. She only sent this because she didn’t get what she wanted earlier. I’m sure she’ll find this whole situation very funny.” “And Lady Ceto?” Shoji crossed her arms. “Both of you are trying to dance around this question and it’s getting tiresome. What is it with her?” “I don’t know, Shoji. I mean, she’s a great healer and I enjoy talking with her even though she’s so possessive. But... I’m not sure what she really thinks about me, or what I think about her either. There’s this pull between us that I can’t explain, and I don’t know if I like it or if I should be afraid of it.” He trailed off, watching her face, and ran a hand through his mussed up hair. “I haven’t let it distract me from our work, I promise you. And there’s really been nothing to talk about yet. I just don’t know her well enough to do anything but dance around it. We haven’t even spoken of this to each other yet, so...” “‘Nothing to talk about.’” Her face twisted into a scowl. “Well that’s the problem isn’t it? It’s been nothing for weeks on end. When was the last time I asked you something and got a straight answer in return, Fara? You’ve been going out for hours on end for multiple days in a row, leaving the clinic to me, and when you come back you won’t even tell me why. ‘Had to take care of some business’. ‘Had some patients to see’.” She made a sharp little inhalation, crossed with something else, and her eyes filled with worry. “I bet you can’t even tell me what their conditions are.” She looked away, and lowered her head. “...I’m so stupid. You’ve been spending so much time together, the clues were all there. I should’ve known from the beginning it was something related to her.” It was at this moment Li realized why Shoji had been acting so strangely. Ever since the day he’d broken the box, a rift had grown between them. Arriving at Falling Ashes had only served to widen the gap, as his duties to the Cult of the Illuminated had begun taking up more and more of his time and attention. Once, they’d shared secrets with each other. Now, he had to think up lies and omissions every time he came back home to make sure he wouldn’t arouse her suspicion. And though she hadn’t found out the truth, Shoji had noticed something had changed between them. Read Intentions, 9 sux! (on 9 dice, jeez Li.) “You are not stupid,” Li said, reaching forward and taking one of her hands in both of his. He paused a moment before speaking further. Letting her believe that he was sneaking around with Fidelity despite his earlier protests would be the safest, easiest thing to do. Ever since he became Anath… a Shining One, he’d been terrified that if his cover was blown then she and the other sisters would be caught and tried as his accomplices. He wasn’t a great warrior out of the legends who could protect them from a thousand screaming dragons. He knew a few of those now, but they wouldn’t risk the Cult over Shoji and the sisters, and he couldn’t bring himself to induct them into such a dangerous faith. “Shoji…” He met her eyes. What was one more lie if it kept her safe? But he couldn’t force the words out. He knew that if he tried, he would lose her friendship and he would deserve it. “You’re right,” he said at last. “I have been keeping secrets. It’s not because I don’t trust you, but some of them aren’t mine to give away, and some of them are dangerous. We’ve already been through so much. If anything happened to you because of me I don’t know what I’d do.” “So what you know to do is keep me ignorant of it, and hope I’m too stupid to notice?” she spat out, but soon after, she followed up with a sigh. Her next words carried none of the venom of the ones that had preceded them. “Oh, Fara…” Taking a step towards him, she pulled him into a crushing hug, full of fear and worry. “I don’t want to stay in the dark like this. If there’s something I can do to help you, I want to know. And if I can’t, at least knowing it’s beyond me would help me get this burden off my back, wondering if some day you’ll go out and never return.” She pressed her head against his chest, and then looked up. “Is there something I can do about it? Or will I have to learn to put on a brave face and accept lies instead?” “I knew you’d figure it out but I was trying to buy some time while you played along at least,” Li said, hugging her back. At that moment, he wanted to tell her everything so badly that it hurt. “Let me talk to some people, see what they think. Not Ceto,” he added quickly. “Can you wait until tonight for an answer?” She nodded. “If you promise to give me one, I’ll wait as long as it takes.” “Then I promise, but I can’t promise you’ll like the answer.” “Just having one will be enough.” Shoji squared herself up and took a step back, breaking their embrace. The next moment, she was the very picture of strength, as she always was. “You’ll be going out today, then? I’ll have two clinics to oversee, between the Heart’s Beat and the notary’s home. Do you think any of the other Sisters are ready to take the reins?” “I want you down at the notary’s in case of emergencies, and… it’s very important that place is run quietly and well.” He gave her A Look that made it clear he was talking about all the things he wasn’t allowed to talk about. “Lusa’s been helping with the books lately, hasn’t she? Though if you want someone in charge of the floor I would suggest Nuwei. But it’s your call, Shoji. I trust your judgement and as you noticed, I’ve been absent too much lately. Has anyone stepped up since we opened Heart’s Beat?” “Yes. You’re not going to believe me, but it’s Shisa. She was barely capable of keeping it together back at Dei Ajna, much less helping treat the sick, but she’s turned a new leaf since we started practicing here. I’ve had to make a point of coming into her room every night to check that she’s actually sleeping, she’s spent every moment outside the patients’ hall studying up.” She glanced at one of the paintings, a sketch of the mountains that surrounded their village, with its rooftops just barely visible in the gaps between them. ”I think she’s trying to make up for her performance back then. If I can convince Nuwei about her progress, the two of them together might be able to handle the day’s affairs.” Li nodded. “Good. Oh, and do tell everyone that if a bull-man shows up and starts drawing at the clinic that he’s been commissioned to do so and everyone should try and smile for the picture.” Shoji just shot him a look, but didn’t ask about it. Her promise to wait until tonight for an answer was just as serious as his own. Just then, there was a knock on the door. “Doctor Li?” A light female voice called out. “A runner’s here with a message from you. Says it’s from one Mister Boulder.” “Thank the dragons,” said Li, sighing dramatically. “Now I don’t have to eat breakfast with a bunch of women who are convinced I’m bedding the goddess of whores. Though I could use a moment to freshen up before stepping out into the world. Have you seen my hat?” “Just saw it, actually. You’re standing right on it,” she said, pointing down at his right foot. “It must’ve fallen off while you were sleeping.” “It’s going to be one of those days,” Li said serenely. With a smooth motion he slipped a toe under the hat and kicked it up high enough to catch. It was quite flat, but that didn’t stop him from placing it on his head and giving Shoji a bow. “Anything else I need to know before I go, head nurse?” “Just one thing. Since I’m going to be down by the theatre, I probably won’t have time to bring over whatever Aska’s going to cook up for dinner before it cools. Do you want anything for tonight in particular? If I just eat on my own, I know you’ll end up skipping a meal. Again.” The admonishing finger she brandished against him would’ve frightened a satrap, such was the ferocity with which it was being used. “I have no idea where I’m going to be at dinnertime and I don’t want you to wait for me,” Li said, wincing at the gesture. “I’m heading up to the hospital now, they’ll feed me enough to last all day.” Shoji sighed, despondently. “I should’ve known better than to hope ‘tonight’ meant ‘tonight at a reasonable hour’.” She threw her arms out. “Get everything done as quickly as you can, then. I’ll keep the lights on until you get there.” He smiled. “Thanks, Shoji. You have no idea how much I count on that.”
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Jul 5, 2021 19:56
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Breakfast: Your Brain is Fast Becoming Broken Get it? Eh? Eh? Scene: Private Dining Alcove, The Flower Amidst the Ashes Boulder sat, an empty plate and bowl on the floor beside him, and arranged and rearranged the papers Lin Zhen had provided the prior morning, hoping that perhaps if he could find the proper arrangement the myriad mysteries surrounding the tournament might be revealed. The Lunar had distributed notes to those lodging in The Flower Amidst the Ashes requesting they join him when they awoke and sent a runner to Fara Li at the Heart’s Beat Clinic. Grace had been the first to arrive, though it looked like he tumbled out of his bed, just finishing up with tying the sash around his robe. He took a seat clutching his head. "G'morning." he tried to slur out behind his hands, fingers rubbing his temples. In practice it sounded like a moan. Flametongue wasn’t quite spoken here. Boulder grunted a greeting. When at length Fidelity arrived, she bore a porter’s staff across her shoulders with mismatched baskets balanced at either end. One was woven from straw and smelled strongly of pungent herbs; the other was of young bamboo, and carried a sweet, earthy odor. The former, she unhooked and carried by its handle; the latter, she passed to the kitchen with whispered instructions before heading upstairs to the private alcove. “Good morning,” she said to the others present. Noting Boulder’s work, she nodded in approval, took one of the blank sheets from the stack, and brushed something on it in a delicate, spidery hand before placing it with the others. Docks: Rumors of Cholera From running water? Unlikely. Strange. Suspicious. Wandering Sun was usually up quite early and energetic, but today when he arrived he looked almost haunted, and clearly hadn’t slept well. Still, that wasn’t enough to deter his sense of courtesy, especially to the other Shining Ones. “Good morning.” He was certain the reason Boulder had called this meeting was important, though he couldn’t help but hope that once they were done, he would be able to seek advice for his own situation. “Are you nodding because it’s organized in a way that gives you insight or merely because it’s organized?” asked Boulder. “It’s my fourth attempt, and it’s not giving me any insight.” “I nod because there are a maddening number of pieces missing from this puzzle,” Fidelity said, sipping her tea as a delicious aroma of seafood began to waft from the kitchen below. “Each one that we find brings us closer to a complete picture.” “Good thing we’ve recruited so many eyes, then,” said Fara Li. He smiled at the sleepier solars, having had the entirety of the walk over to wake up, along with Shoji’s bitter tea. “Long nights all around I take it?” “Mrs. Gladshot is a gracious host,” Fidelity said, a little stiffly. “And a very...particular one. But we have come to agreeable terms. Here, Fara - have you heard anything of this?” she asked, passing him the note about the outbreak. He narrowed his eyes at the flowing text. “Not a thing, though I wouldn’t expect cholera near the docks. There’s a number of other illnesses with similar symptoms though… Is there time to look into it before things get busy?” “I had hoped that we might,” Fidelity answered, with a faint stress on ’we’. “If it is indeed cholera, it might be arriving with the sailors...or there may be a rupture in the sewer main. Neither bodes well for the city.” “Alright. I have a personal matter to discuss with Master Lin Zhen but after that I should be available…” Another grunt escaped Grace as he stopped rubbing his head, somewhat readier to greet the day. He looked at the cup of tea Fidelity had, then to her. “May I?” Fidelity almost blinked at that. Almost. She had to be mindful of where she looked with unlidded eyes. That Grace had bothered to simply ask was...it felt almost absurd. She poured a cup of water for him and slid it across the stone, along with a toasted fragment of tea brick and the whisk. He took the cup and brick with thanks, and got to steeping. The aroma perked him up a little, but a little something sweet would go really well.. “Would you happen to have any honey on you?” “Alas, my hives are still in their infancy,” she sighed. “They need all that they produce for themselves.” Grace slumped at that, returning to his cup. He was about to take a sip, but stopped as he mulled over what she said. “You have an apiary?” “I have a garden,” Fidelity said with a smile. “The bees invited themselves, but they are welcome nonetheless.” Rook cleared his throat. “There was a recent attempt on the prefect’s candidate- as I understand it, not particularly clean and likely more intended to send a message. I’ll be looking into it.” He paused. “Also, I found a letter from Duc Jiang- he seems to be pursuing an alliance with the prefect, and if my hunch is correct, he’s getting nervous.” Wandering Sun had been wolfing down his morning rice as he tried to gather his thoughts. The larger political situation of the city felt completely over his head, but he couldn’t help but believe something important was brewing and that he might have a piece of it. “I, uh, I don’t know if this is related to anything any of you found out, but there’s a Guild representative, Lady Jaya. She’s having a war of sorts with the Grandmaster Spider. The Chapterhouse in the Nepenthe seems involved, though I don’t know why.” He fell silent for a moment, then felt compelled to add context. “I was, err, recruited by the Immaculate Order to watch over the children there. It’s a long story, but it seemed like a good idea to play along, but I promised I’d find a doctor to look in on them.” “The Immaculate Order?” Li said. He’d already offloaded the notary clinic onto Shoji’s shoulders and the regular one to the remaining nurses, so there wasn’t anyone to delegate to this particular problem, or at least not someone he wanted to risk. “I think I’ll need to hear that story on the way over there. I can drop in on Aurea and find out what she wants while I’m in the neighborhood. Ah, but…” He glanced over at Fidelity. “Do you think it can wait until this afternoon or is it more pressing than a potential cholera outbreak?” “Will cholera epidemic impact outcome of Gateway tournament starting tomorrow that may decide fate of the Empire?” interjected Boulder. “If it’s happening at the docks where many of our foreign players and their entourages are arriving then yes,” Li said. “We have no proof that it even IS Cholera yet, and if it’s something else it may very well have come in with them, or been spread by them or someone working for them.” Boulder grunted in acknowledgement of Li’s point. “I think investigating nurses at High Hope else looking to affect the game. Sudden, unexplained illness is an easy scapegoat for assassins.” Clinic whose behavior changed recently worth doing now. I worry about spies in our midst.” Sun considered what he knew to prioritize. “Cholera sounds fairly serious, worse if it’s something someone’s using for cover. I think you should prioritize that - it didn’t sound like the children were seriously injured. I’m sure I could find one of the other doctors or nurses to come with me.” “I think I might know someone who might help if this outbreak might not be normal. ” Grace piped in. “Oh?” Li asked. “Anyone who can lighten the load at this point would be welcome.” “Her name is Clarity, and… I think we might find her in that one district, errr.. The Transplants, I think?” “That’s a few more ‘mights’ than I like to hear regarding potential allies…” Li said, stroking his beard. Grace looked down at his cup. “The hard part is finding her. She was with me when I came here, but knowing her, Clarity has her own plans.” Interesting, though odd she hadn’t been mentioned previously. Li nodded. “I see, and she is a…?” “She is one of us. A Shining One…. I figured she may have been with your group.” “I could ask Master Lin Zhen, but I’ve never heard of her,” Li said, glancing around to see if anyone else had. “Nor have I,” Fidelity said. “However, if such a thing would be of interest to her, perhaps she is already making her own inquiries. Perhaps we shall chance upon her...in which case, it would help to know more, in order to prevent any unfortunate misunderstandings.” “Oh… good point.” He told the others what he knew of Last Moment of Clarity, her appearance, her methods, and how she can flit from tourist to schemer.. “My understanding is that she would be drawn to the foreign quarter, if she had nothing else in mind.” Only after all this talking did he finally take his first few sips from his cup. Strong, but pleasant enough. “Another tangent, if we’re still assuming that all this is a Mnemon strategy, should we let Duc Jiang and Stynfalia stay working with one another to check against that?” “I think yes,” said Boulder. “Our ability on grand political stage limited.” “In that case, let’s make sure they don’t get distracted by any other players. As long as we keep our efforts out of the tournament, we just need to watch for possible… threats on the periphery.” Grace took another pull, and closed his eyes, as if in thought. “Sesus Dikona will be my focus, among other things.” “I will check Garnet’s nurses, then observe Geomantic Response Squad, unless one needs me for other task,” said Boulder. “Splendid. I’ll be meeting with you later on whatever you find,” said Grace. Boulder nodded. Grace finished off his cup, his face turned more serious. “We still have V’neef Valeth to uncover, but I suppose that will need to be something to focus on if we have time later. It seems we have our tasks for the day.” “Then let us be about them,” said Li, pushing out from his chair. It didn’t take the others long to follow suit. Time weighed heavily on them all.
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Jul 5, 2021 19:57
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I’m going to take his face...off Scene: Private Dining Alcove, The Flower Amidst the Ashes As the meeting came to an end, Boulder caught Fidelity’s eye. “Stay please, I have something to discuss with you alone.” Fidelity tensed slightly at the demand. “Is it anything that concerns the Illuminated?” she asked. “Will it take long?” Li added, wanting to get on with the Cholera investigation. Boulder contemplated the questions for a moment. “Yes,” he said to Fidelity. “Probably not,” he said to Li. “Then why must it be private?” Fidelity asked. “We are Lunars, and some questions of morality are unique to us,” said Boulder. Fidelity had an unpleasant suspicion as to which ‘question of morality’ Boulder referred. It was the one that the Immaculates had warned everyone on the Isle about from birth, and the foremost reason that even unbelievers in their faith could still find cause to call Lunars Anathema. She looked faintly-ill at the prospect. Li put a hand on her shoulder at that, offering one of his kindest smiles. “What is good and what is moral are different things, something we healers know well. Hear him out. I trust you will make the right choice.” “I thank you, Fara,” she said softly. “Go on ahead. I shall catch up before long.” Li nodded. “I skipped breakfast to run halfway across town to get here so I’ll make a visit to the kitchen, then I’ll meet you outside.” He glanced up at Boulder. “I hope the risks are worth the rewards, whatever you’re planning.” After that he bowed and took his leave. Boulder watched Li walk beyond hearing range, then turned to Fidelity. “I have not drunk Heart’s Blood of people. Stealing person’s face feels too close to enslavement, even when they have deserved to die. But my form is memorable and will hinder ability to be nearby during tournament. I do not know what choice is right.” “I see,” she said, and her expression softened. In the brief time they had known each other, she had grown accustomed to Boulder being as blunt as his namesake. She had expected him to simply assert his plan, and expect her to play a part in it. For him to ask...this was new to her. “There are...other ways; this, I know. We need not tear a heart out to claim it.” Boulder grunted. “I have not learned them. Choice must be today to be ready tomorrow.” “Then you face a difficult decision indeed,” Fidelity said calmly. “This is not like a game of Gateway. A human being is not a piece on a board. What is it that you mean to do, that you cannot do as yourself or as a beast?” “Don’t know. Next days uncertain; human shape increases flexibility to surmount uncertainties,” responded Boulder. Fidelity thought on that for a time, until she considered that Fara might miss her if she stayed overlong. “What Prioress Nafela taught me was that some deeds were too wicked to justify, no matter how noble one’s aims. What my Shahan-ya taught me was that to dwell on ‘deserving’ or ‘undeserving’, right or wrong, was a road to hypocrisy and cruelty, and that we must simply own our actions without apology or excuse. I do not know what Master Lin Zhen would say, but you have not asked her.” “I have not,” said Boulder. He stood and bowed the bow between equals. “Thank you,” he said, and walked out of the room.
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Jul 10, 2021 00:33
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Some Errands are More Pleasant than Others Scene: The Hills North of the City, the Nepenthe Boulder jogged north from Nepenthe into the hills. For most mortals, jogging in Falling Ashes was a good route to a quick death from Grey Lung even when ash wasn’t actively falling; for Boulder it was barely an inconvenience. With each exhalation, a small cloud of ash was expelled back into the air. His species was adapted to a desert plagued by sand and dust storms; Exaltation had merely perfected his respiratory system. As Boulder moved through the rough terrain, his eyes scanned his surroundings carefully for certain plants and animals and fungi known to gather some small fraction of the world’s mystical energy into themselves as they grew. Near the damaged Five Forces Blossom, a whole new unique biome had developed which added another layer of danger and opportunity to the knowledgeable sorcerer. Boulder zigzagged smoothly between promising spots, his keen sight and ability to sense temperature helping him spot those that might be camouflaged from others. Usually a quick brush of his hand through the leaves or grass and his quick eyes was enough to assess a spot for valuable life, saving him much crawling around and under and through. Using the Thousand-Blossoms Art shaping ritual from Root-Lore. Aiming for difficulty 4 to get infinite components for a week. 4 peri and 5 pers for 9 Exc dice plus Int (4) + Survival (3) = 14 dice + 1 WP for an autosux: @Bouquet, you rolled 1,1,2,3,4,4,7,7,7,7,9,9,10,10 for a total of 11 successes Within an hour, Boulder had what he needed and jogged back towards town and through the North Gate. As he made his way through the Nepenthe, he took a far different path than he might usually take. The Lunar plotted a course that went through many of the most dangerous alleys and courtyards rather than around them while still making progress towards his target in the Storehouses. As he walked, Boulder strained his senses to the utmost, listening for the sounds of violence, watching for unexpected scuff marks or spots of blood, letting the air linger in his nose for a scent out of place. It was good that he traveled through the emptier places; no one who saw him for more than a few seconds would mistake him for anything other than a predator. Soon, he found what he was looking for. A fair youth had collapsed in one of the Graveyard’s many alleys. The falling ash had already left his body half-concealed, but his upper torso was still unsullied, save for the stab wound on his chest, still fresh and oozing a trickle of blood. The scent of it was fresh in the air, and wafted out of the alleyway. If he was quick and sharp, perhaps he could find the boy’s killer before they slipped his grasp. Jupiter: @Bouquet, you rolled 1,1,2,2,3,3,3,4,5,6,7,7,8,910,10 for a total of 8 successes What gave the path the killer had taken away was the lighter notes of copper still present in the air. They guided Boulder inexorably onwards, and it didn’t take long for him to spot a tiny droplet of blood on the wall of one of the Graveyard’s insulae, a sign of the killer’s passage. Less than two blocks away, he found the source of the smell. The man responsible for the killing he’d uncovered was heavyset, with incurious eyes and a small mouth set between his wide cheeks that his short beard couldn’t mask. He was busy cleaning the murder weapon when Boulder finally found him, a small, military-issue dagger that fit ungracefully in his large hands. With the hood of his cloak up, he was unaware of the presence of the Lunar, blinded by the ashfall. It would be easy to render judgement upon him, should he choose to do so. “Why did you do it?” asked Boulder conversationally. The man turned around to face him, the knife still in his hands. “Do what?” he asked, not even bothering to hide it. His small eyes peered at Boulder, trying to determine if he was a threat. “Kill him.” The man’s eyes wandered back the way he’d come. “I was hungry. No work to do in this place. Never is any. Kid had a bag that jingled when he walked and was making no effort to hide it. What was I supposed to do, starve?” He certainly didn’t have the look of someone who’d gone without food lately, but his face had the haggard, tasked look of a denizen of the Graveyard. Tired, almost unfocused, centered on the here and now. The kind of face Boulder had seen many times in those who’d just recently arrived at the Flower Amidst the Ashes, only without the faint spark of hope hidden within their eyes. “You could have only stolen,” said Boulder. “And get the guards called on me? Buddy of mine used to do that. Took only what he felt he needed. They hung him from the walls a year ago when he got caught.” He shrugged. It was a nonchalant gesture, but underneath it, Boulder could see the man heave. “This place doesn’t have enough money for everyone. Way I see it, someone had to lose tonight. Wasn’t gonna be me.” Boulder grunted, turned away, and began walking toward the most isolated nearby alley. He didn’t look back, but moments later, he heard the man’s heavy footfalls crunch the ash behind him, making sure to stay close but not too close. Boulder turned a corner in the alley and stopped just out of sight. When the man came around the corner, the Lunar’s right fist blurred into the murderer’s throat. Boulder’s left hand clamped onto the human’s knife hand, his right hand grasped the human’s face, and the snakeman spun to slam the human’s skull into the protruding nearby corner; the man died instantly. “All you had to do was not follow me,” said Boulder sadly, “and I would have let you live.” Boulder used the man’s knife to remove his clothing and slipped the clothing, stolen money, and the knife into his own leather satchel. A ripple ran down the snakeman’s body and back, leaving a massive boar in his place. The hellboar’s teeth crunched through the human’s rib cage into his heart, then bowed in the direction of the moon. Ceremony completed, Boulder crunched his way through the remainder of the body until none remained. That grisly task complete, Boulder’s form flowed once more, this time into the always useful shape of a raiton. He flapped fiercely several times to obscure the scene, then flew off in the direction of the Heart’s Hope Clinic, leaving nothing more than a rapidly ash-covered pool of blood behind him. Scene: The High Hopes Clinic in the Storehouses district When Boulder arrived at the clinic he was once more in his natal form. He scanned the room for someone matching the description of Honorable Garnet. The man was nowhere to be found, but his keen ears caught wind of a conversation happening behind a set of closed doors on the back end. “—kind of performance is unacceptable...We have a reputation to uphold!” Said a man with a serious, older voice, with the tones of one used to giving orders. “—like that, sir...” answered a younger male voice. “I’m just...so...tired…” “Then I think it’s time to get your affairs in order.” Frustration and concern mingled in the older man’s voice as he admonished the other. What followed next was too quiet for Boulder to hear, but the doors soon opened, and a jittery young man in a nurse’s uniform stepped out, followed by an impeccably dressed doctor who moved with purposeful poise. Honorable Garnet, no doubt. “Youthful Wing?” asked Boulder. “I wish.” Garnet sighed. “That fool’s been causing trouble as well, but of a much more manageable sort. That was Wen Kao. He’s neglecting his duties to a degree I cannot overlook. If this goes on for much longer, I may have to take a more direct hand in this matter and find out the truth behind his off-duty excursions, whether he wants it to be known or not.” He shook his head. “But this is a burden for me to carry. How can I help you today, wise Boulder?” he asked, acknowledging the Lunar with a courteous bow. Boulder nodded towards the back room and followed Honorable Garnet inside. “You can relinquish that burden,” said Boulder with a slight tilt of his head towards Wen Kao. “I mislike changes preceding tomorrow. If merely personal and I help, good. If more and I help, perhaps vital. Tell me what you know.” “Are you sure? It would be...no, never mind.” Nodding, Honorable Garnet went silent as he marshaled his thoughts. “It all began about a week ago. Young Wen arrived at the clinic to work exhausted and with bags underneath his eyes. He put forth an admirable effort running errands and handling tasks throughout the early morning, but by midday, his strength was so clearly starting to flag that I sent him home to recover his energy, figuring he must have had a bad night’s sleep. When he showed up in much the same condition the next day, however, I began to suspect something was amiss. A medical examination revealed nothing unusual, save for his obvious exhaustion. The boy clearly knew of the cause behind his symptoms, but when pressed about it, he refused to say. One of my other pupils tailed him to the Merciful Fates Consulting Office, and confirmed he has been visiting it every day after work. Something within its confines has taken a hold of him. If you could confirm what, it would be much appreciated, O wise one.” “How hard was he pressed? Gentle or sharp pressure? No need to repeat same approach,” said Boulder. “The former, more than the latter. The trust of charges is easily lost by applying too much pressure, and not so easily regained,” Garnet grumbled, the conversation Boulder had just overheard pieces of clearly on his mind. “One of your standing may have better luck, however,” he added, respectfully, after a moment. “Young Wen is a good boy...I believe he is simply misguided, and not truly lost to us.” Boulder nodded and left the smaller room. “Wen Kao, come with me,” he said as he walked through the clinic, not slowing his pace to see if the boy followed him out the front door. When Boulder reached the far side of the street, he turned and waited for Young Wen to catch up. A few moments later, the youth came running. His movements were sluggish, just as Garnet had described, but the fear in his eyes lent speed to his feet nonetheless. “Y-yes? What can I help you with, s-sir?” he asked. “Eat some noodles. I’m buying,” replied Boulder. Boulder gathered the youth up with a head twist and set off to Grandfather Noodles. Wen’s confusion was visible on his face, but a rumble from his stomach kept him from arguing the point further. He did not say anything on the way to the stall, afraid that his good luck might turn bad if he angered the Lunar. It was only once they’d arrived at the rooftop stall that he dared speak up. “I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve this kindness sir, but thank you so very much anyways.” Pressing his hands together, he bowed towards Boulder, before tentatively taking a seat. “Is there a...a dish I should try?” he asked, trying (and failing) to suppress a yawn that overtook him during the last few words. “Try the noodles,” said Boulder, grinning at Grandfather Noodles and rolling his eyes slightly at the idea that Grandfather Noodles had space in his tiny cart for the ingredients for more than one dish. “Just tea for me.” “Tell me about yourself,” said Boulder to the young nurse. Wen blinked. “If you wish, sir. I joined the cu— the clinic six...no, seven years ago. Master Honorable Garnet plucked me from the streets and showed me a better way for myself and my sister, Jue. I’ve been trying to measure up to his expectations of me since then.” He chuckled quietly at that. “He says I might be a great doctor and sp...listener some day, but it feels like I’ve got such a long way to go, still.” As a bowl was deposited before him, he looked at it for a moment before reaching for a pair of chopsticks. “There’s an examination coming up in a month or so, so Master Garnet can track my progress.” He reached forward, but then hesitated, his eyes downcast. “...I hope I don’t let him down too badly.” “Your sister is well?” asked Boulder. “She’s…” Wen swallowed. “...She’s fine,” he managed, after a moment. It was an obvious lie, even a fool could see that much — and Boulder was no fool. Boulder grunted. “My turn. What do you want to know?” Wen’s eyes went wide. He glanced at Boulder for confirmation, and when he was certain he was not being pranked, fell into deep thought. Thought that accompanied by quiet eating, remarkably, as his pensiveness overrode his hesitation to indulge. “...Has there ever been a time you couldn’t make a miracle happen?” He asked, all of a sudden. “N-not that I think a wise one like yourself isn’t infallible, sir, I’m just...just wondering if there was ever a time something you wanted done was out of your reach for a time.” “When becoming like me, fallibility remains. Maybe lessened by the change and guidance of the elders, but even gods are fallible. I want slavery abolished everywhere. Very far out of reach still,” replied the Lunar. “It’s a big goal,” Wen said, nodding in agreement. “But I know it’ll happen someday. A promise from the Shining Ones can never be broken.” He paused for a moment, thinking, and swallowed the noodles he’d just picked up. “...I wish I could feel the same way. I know I’m letting Master Garnet down, but I can’t just give up and beg him to ask one of you to help me. The texts teach us that we’re supposed to stand on our own two feet and help the Shining Ones when they need us so they can save Creation.” His hand clenched around the edge of the table. “...If I can’t even keep Jue safe, how am I supposed to help anyone else?” “What is your best skill?” asked Boulder. “Master Garnet says I’ve got the kind of face that makes anyone open up about their troubles. He’s always told the other nurses they could learn a thing or two from my bedside manner, and when he wants to learn more about troubled people, he sends me to talk to them.” A dim little smile perked up the corners of his mouth. “I’m not so sure I’d be good for that right now, though.” “I need a daiklaive,” said Boulder. “Help me with that so I can save Creation.” Wen blinked. “A daiklaive…? I’m not a smith, though. I wouldn’t know how to make one. M-maybe I could look for one, though?” he offered, hurriedly, afraid of disappointing the beastman. “New plan,” said Boulder. “You learn about troubled people. A sneaky Shining One will steal a daiklaive. I will keep Jue safe.” “But I’d just be burdening you with my problems!” Wen piped up. “You’ve got more important things to...to…” And suddenly his expression changed. “...It’s not about what’s important, is it?” he asked, his voice quiet and intense now, charged by his revelation. “It’s about doing what we are good at for the benefit of everyone else.” He looked at Boulder expectantly, awaiting his reply. Boulder nodded. “Return to a few moments ago. Your sister is well?” Wen nodded. “She is. I’m not half the doctor Master Garnet is, but I knew enough to look at her and see something, if there had been anything. But Jue...she’s lost her smile.” He tried to speak further, but stopped, struggling to find the right words. “...It’s not sadness, or even a few bad days. She’s told me she can’t feel any joy anymore, and can’t remember what it was like. As if those feelings had never even existed. Sir, there’s no treatment for an ailment of the heart like this,” Wen pushed on, his voice strained with fear and worry. “It’s not something physicians can handle. I found a man who claimed he could craft a draught that would bring Jue’s smile back, if I lent him my strength to craft it with, but it’s been so tiring...we’re not done yet, and I’m not sure how much longer I can hold on.” He clasped his hands together, and Boulder could see that they were shaking. “...I know I’m letting Master Garnet down by doing this. I know it’s probably just a trap. And yet...I couldn’t just sit around and do nothing. She’s the only family I have. I have to protect her.” Wen looked up at him, and Boulder could see the desperation in his eyes. “The alchemist is at the Merciful Fates office. Please, sir...please help Jue out. She’s wasting away, and I can’t see her like this any longer.” Boulder grunted. “I will try. As you said, ailments of the heart are difficult. If just natural, I don’t know what to do. Alchemist might be easier for me, but no promises. Let’s go see Jue first.”
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Jul 19, 2021 00:53
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