The Path of Least Resistance (Group 2 IC)

[Azaril]

The morning has arrived, although the clouds that have engulfed the sky make it difficult to tell. The rain still hasn’t let up, and it’s been fifteen days of continual downpour, and now the storms have spread over Thrane. The last day has been plagued with thunderous bursts from the skies, and lightning strikes have caused severe damage in many areas.

The streets are close to being abandoned as you walk through Flamekeep to the cathedral. The rain has driven a lot of people to stay indoors, and you can see for yourself through the windows of the cathedral that a lot of people are taking refuge inside; whether it be from the rain or from damaged homes, you’re not sure. All of the trading markets have to be postponed within the city, and it’s highly likely that the occurrence of this isn’t just isolated to Flamekeep. Harvests have been ruined, food has gone rotten only days after being stored and livelihoods have been ruined by the barbaric weather.

As you reach the cathedral the atmosphere is tense. The acolytes narrow their eyes at you until they realise that you’re not there to beg for spare change. It’s hardly the welcome you’d expect from the heart of the Silver Flame—you can’t help but feel that something is wrong.

[Havelock]

Fleur halfway considered to just walk straight past the guards posted at the gate, but if she had done so, her conscience would likely protest loud enough to be annoying if she did not go straight to the Cathedral. She decided that one more minute out in this crappy weather could be tolerated. I need you to go inform your captain. she knew how to give orders, though as always, it amused her to see the surprised look of the boy that obviously was low on the pecking order to be placed on guard duty in this weather. Tell him that the Five Nation's express have been attacked, about five miles from the city, he may contact Cardinal Baerdren ir'Davik should he have questions to ask me. I must be on my way, I have business that cannot wait.

Poor boy, would probably be scrubbing latrines for a week for allowing her to pass by just like that, his reaction was kind of cute though, but much too green not to question someone clad in mithral gear, speaking with the confidence of a general and waiving the name of a cardinal in his face....him blushing and stuttering extra because this person was a girl looking no older than he made made it brighten up her day a little bit. The imagined confusion arising through the hierarchy would probably make for a decent song.

She had until noon, well, she probably was supposed to deliver the letter pronto, but she always had the naive little girl act to fall back into. A nice warm bath would be the thing, and proper breakfast, that too. House Ghallanda capable of providing all of that, she went to the Silver Wyrm, the staff wouldn't be working at Ghallanda's most upscale place in Flamekeep if they didn't knew her. Probably had a couple of pages concerning her preferences and taste as observed from various visits to the house establishments throughout Khorvaire. Odds would be that she'd get the royal treatment, given the lack of travelers, that'd be nice.

All clean, belly filled, and brought back to a state of comfort, she slipped out of the carriage, hurrying to deny the rain the chance to ruin all the blessed work of the halflings, she picked the Yellow Glamerweave Dress in Thranish cut provided to her all those years ago by Archbishop Dariznu, it still fitted nicely, though she had grown to fill it out more. The designer had probably not intended for it to be as tight fitting, but Fleur never liked the Thranish obsession with hiding anything that "might inspire improper thought" or that sort of nonsense.

I have an appointment with Cardinal Baerdren ir'Davik she said, her tone being as casual as a lady of high birth ordering her butler to prepare a cup of tea. She wondered how big the rock-slide caused by the pebbles she threw at the gate had grown in the last few hours.

[Orosboru]

Direct order? Huh. Interesting. I steadied myself. Jaela Daran herself. It wasn't like the Church of the Silver Flame to be the messaging sort. Usually, a brother paladin or a wide-eyed cleric would bother me about faith and theological concepts that were old when I was still in cloister. I never really saw the same one twice, and really, I haven't seen one for a long time.

Baerdren ir'Davik was a tough son of a bitch, no doubt about it. Rigid in opinion, and blunt to boot, but he could hold himself in a fight. Young as - well, everyone was younger these days, right? Still, he kept too much faith in procedure - and was very loyal to the Church. At least he didn't spit in my face when he left.

I made friends with the razor, and then the wine when the presence of it in the body made it necessary for it without, I brushed off my leather armour and I walked to the stables. Peaches. Goddamn Peaches. Love that horse. Although a mare ain't as strong or fast as a stallion, she's heck of a lot easier to take care of. I pat her black coat down with a brush before saddling up to the blacksmith. She shies away from the rain at first, but years of battlefield experience let her give the control to me. With my lance covered under a layer of cloth, I dart under the eaves, cursing the cold rain as I go.

It's my armour. It's the same armour that I used to wear. Where did they get this? Blacksmith complements the workmanship, and it's true. Light as a feather and tough as steel. It gives me bad memories, but who am I to refuse a gift from Jaela Daran? Peaches is surprised by the unexpected weight, but she was bred to support the weight of a knight, and she quickly adjusts. I oil it myself. The blacksmith was kind enough to let me work at it, commenting on my technique, but just touching it makes me remember that dreadful day- I pack it away quickly, but reverently. Someone could use this.

I ride up slowly in the pouring rain, up the steps towards a familiar home. It hurts to be here. What possessed me to come here? Don't recognize anyone at the gates. A nob - what's she doing out in the rain? This stinks harder by the moment.


A greying, scarred warrior on a horse strides up to the gates. His hair is short and black, and he smells faintly of alcohol. His face is freshly shaven, but with small nicks and cuts show a obvious clumsiness for lack of practice.


Here to speak with Baerdren. I say.

[RdMarquis]

From his vantage point beneath a dripping tree, Jasper frowned at the sky. Was he being overly suspicious in wondering if it was all connected? There was the strange mark on his body, the message from the Keeper, the heavy rain that was gradually transforming from bad weather to a threat. And now this attack on a lightning rail targeting another group of people traveling to Flamekeep. Perpetrated by people with no interest in self-preservation, no less. Lovett shifted his coat, discreetly checking his weaponry, a pair of enchanted daggers. There was no sense in standing here wondering, not when he had an opportunity to get some answers.

As if to outpace his sense of foreboding, he took off at a run, only slowing when in view of the cathedral. It wouldn't do to go barging in, even if he was invited. Jasper forced a smile and greeted the nearest person. "Hello. I'm here to see Cardinal ir'Davik. Is he available?" Obviously so, if the letter still in his pocket was genuine. There was no reason to give anyone the impression he thought gaining the ear of a cardinal was going to be easy, however.

[Azaril]

All three of you arrive within seconds of each other, dripping wet and glad to be indoors. One of the Templars approaches and escorts you wordlessly through the dimly-lit corridors of the maze-like Cathedral. You find it fascinating as you gradually descend into the underbelly of the Flamekeep that the Cathedral clearly spans a lot further than it first suggests.

Fifteen minutes of trekking through similar-looking hallways and no matter how much you may have tried, your mind lost it's way a good ten minutes previous. The Templar finally stops at a doorway, bows his head and takes his leave. Still silent. The more you think about it, the entire place is strangely silent.

"I'm glad to see you." The High Cardinal steps out of the office to greet you, ushering you past his heavy wooden doors. "Please, come in."

He waits until you are all seated before he clears his throat. "You may already know who I am, but it's no excuse for a lack of introduction. I am High Cardinal Baerdren ir'Davik." There's a small pause as he considers his next words. He flashes a quick smile. "Grand Master of the Knights Templar, Paladin of the Church of the Silver Flame and Lord of... somewhere." Another pause. Then a sigh. Pretentious, I know. Just call me Baerdren. I've had to introduce myself a lot lately, and having to ream off that title repeatedly makes me feel terribly pompous."

He fiddles with a bunch of paperwork in his hands and looks around anxiously. "I'm sorry." He says with a slight cough. "The Lady Keeper seems to be running a bit late..."

It's then that an awkward silence falls over the room. Even if you wanted to speak the words fail to form on your lips, myriads of questions unable to coalesce from the fog of your mind. It feels like a small eternity waiting in silence, and suddenly you sense the heavy weight of the sensation you had been experiencing up until now. Everything feels so lifeless, and you have to strain your ears to hear anything happening within the Cathedral even though you saw many people walking by.

You do hear footsteps though. Light, quick and fast approaching. The doors creak open and before you stands Lady Jaela Daran, Keeper of the Silver Flame, speaker of the Voice.

She's average height, but that's the only thing normal-looking about her. Striking, short black hair, a warm, chocolate complexion and eyes like molten silver. Her gaze is indeed hypnotic, but there are heavy bags under her eyes, and you slowly realise that as radiant as she looks with her flowing silver, black and blue outfit, you'd expect her to be... more. Just simply, more. Her smile is genuine but weak, and the lack of grace as she sits herself down shows the tell-tale signs of exhaustion.

"I am sorry. I truly am. A lot of things have consumed my energy recently and I'm sorely lacking a good night of rest." She gives her face a quick rub with her hands before smiling at you all. A little more effort this time you think, but it shows. "I'm glad you are here safely. As you all know I am the Keeper of the Silver Flame, but I would prefer if you were to call me Jaela. I want you to get to know me without the Silver Flame overshadowing my actions, and in that way I hope that you can come to trust me more easily."

The words that pass her lips sound ominous, but at the same time it's difficult not to feel completely comforted by her presence. "Each of you went through a traumatic experience not too long ago, and manifested Dragonmark-like marks across your skin after a period of twelve days of sickness. I had a vision the night that it happened to you, and it showed me your whereabouts and how to contact you. Luckily I was able to get to you in time."

"There is something else that all three of you share. You were all there on the Day of Mourning, and you all somehow survived without a single scratch. You all have no memories of what happened, you have hardly physically aged since that day.

"I’m sure you are wondering how I know all of this, and it is because it was the very first vision that was granted to me by the Flame—Thirteen people surviving the Day of Mourning, walking out of the mists of the Mournland with strange marks adorning their skin. You are three of those people in my vision, and whilst I do not know the full extent of what is happening, I now have reason to believe that you are in danger."

She takes the papers gently from the hands of Baerdren and spreads them across the table. Hand-drawn portraits each with a symbol accompanying it. As soon as you see your own, you know exactly what they represent; the mark that manifested on your body four nights ago. "Three people are no longer with us." She separates them from the rest of the group, and you notice the face of Seneschal Ofejjaia of Korth. You had heard the rumours of her death, but you hadn't know what to believe up until now. "These three," she points to Karo, Ashe and Tannop, "are currently on a mission to retrieve these two from the Argonth." Kari and Daervain.

Jaela pinches the bridge of her nose between her fingers and drops her head, her eyes tight with discomfort. Baerdren places a comforting hand between her shoulder blades and continues what she was trying to say.

"The visions have been forced on her repeatedly over the past week or so. It's taking it's toll, and I'm starting to get worried." There is no doubt in your mind that his words are those of truth and concern. "We're still trying to figure out what it all means; what your marks mean, and why all of this is happening in such a short space of time. And Norman?" Baerdren manages a soft smile across the table, "I'm sorry for the way I acted earlier. I'm currently under a lot of pressure and Jaela's state of mind is my top concern. I shouldn't have barked my orders at you."

By this time, Jaela has pushed her chair back from the table and is doubled over, head between her knees, breathing deeply and slowly. Once again silence descends over the room.

Not only the room, you think to yourself. It's more than that. You can almost feel it descend over the entire Cathedral, and your head starts to pound with your heartbeat, reminiscent of a morning after the night-you-wished-you-never-had. It doesn't last for long before you snap back to reality, but the event doesn't hold any urgency in your mind. You feel your mind forgetting it happened before Jaela gathers her composure to speak again.

"Those that have died have met gruesome ends. It has always been staged to look like an accident or suicide, but it always seems too surreal to be either. I can't put my finger on why, but everything that I am is telling me that it's not right." Jaela doesn't seem to have noticed either. Noticed what? But when you try and grasp the escaping thought, wondering why it's floating around in your mind, it's already gone.

"That and..." Baerdren adds hesitantly. "I'm currently seen as suspect in the death of Lady Ofejjaia. She was to succeed me, and I am soon to retire. Given Thrane's past experience with the Karrns, part of the Church is like a pack of hungry dogs and they're using this as an excuse to investigate me."

"However before we get into that, I would like you to introduce yourselves to each other. I need to keep you together, for the safety of you all, and I'd like to think that you'd be able to get to like one another.

[Havelock]

Fleur offered up a warm girlish smile Fkeur Thiel, I am a singer. her handshake was both formal and casual at the same time, most certainly trained. Even for one not recognizing the name, "A singer" would sound suspiciously like downplaying. Her eyes betraying the otherwise young and innocent face, though sparkling and full of life, there was a depth of experience contradicting the words young and innocent to be seen in her gaze.

Oh, and I believe this one is yours she pulled a sealed envelope from her purse and slid it across the table towards Baerdren and Jaela.

[Orosboru]

Baerdren. The Lady Keeper should be resting, not wrenching secrets from the skeins of delirium. Norman pauses, unsure of himself. The candle that burns twice as bright lasts half as long. If this business of yours... you are wiser than I. I will await your explanation. He turns to the other two. He gives a terse frown.

Name's Norman. Wasn't born with an apostrophe in my name, so I'm naught of any importance. If you want me to spill my guts to you and tell a sob story, then I'm afraid you're out of luck. He wrings the water out of his hood. Let's get this over with.

[RdMarquis]

"Jasper." He supplemented the simple intruduction with a polite smile and bow. "It's good to meet you all." It was his intention to present himself in as unassuming a manner as possible The half-elf stood with his hands folded behind his back, continuing to contemplate what the Keeper had just said. With well practiced ease, Jasper added a note of fear to his voice. "Do you mean to tell us we are all in danger? Jaela?" He glanced at the others, hinting that "we" included the Cardinal as well, that Jasper sympathized with his plight. "Someone is trying to kill us?"

[Azaril]

"I'm fine to be here, and I'm hardly delirious." She snaps at Norman with an unbridled ferocity—clearly out of character—the pools of silver in her eyes becoming stationary as her gaze fixes on him. Quickly snapping out of it, she clasps her hands over her mouth soon after the words leave it. "I'm so sorry." Her voice is soft and full of shame. "I'm tired, yes, but my condition is nothing for you to be worried about. I'm sorting through a couple of things. The visions seem to be leaving lingering traces of emotion..."

"As for danger, yes. We believe that those manifesting these marks are being targeted for an unknown reason. Now that you are together and if you act as one, you will find yourselves safe. The only lead we have is the investigation into the death of Lady Ofejjaia, and we plan to appoint you to look into these matters as it is impossible for me to do so myself. It will also benefit you to know what is going on first hand, finding it out for yourself rather than hearing it from others." Baerdren speaks, a hint of regret in his voice for having to ask you to potentially put yourselves in harms way.

Jaela takes the note from Fleur with a slow hand, changing the subject of focus at the same time. She slides it across the table before taking great care to open it and get a quick glance at the contents. The faint smile falls from her face, and her eyes close. She holds the letter close to her chest and takes a deep breath.

"It is as I thought." She places the letter onto the table in front of her, folding her hands gently over it. "This was a missive sent by myself to another in the hands of a group of Templars. They were to deliver it in person, but I now know that they were the victims of the attack last night. How did you get this?"

[Havelock]

Murder investigation you say? Never done that before, sounds like fun! Fleur's grin could have fooled almost anyone into believing her to be some fifteen year old girl with her head full of fairy tales en route to a Xen'drik Safari.

How did you get this?

Someone stopped the train, and killed some people on it, apparently the aggressors found the invitation to join their victims on the trip to Dolurrh too compelling. She shrugged, as if she did not find the scene disturbing at all. One of them had the letter, I thought it best not to leave it for some random person to pick up. Had to travel the rest of the way by foot too, in the rain, wasn't fun.

[RdMarquis]

Jasper narrows his eyes, wondering if she was making a joke.

So, they were being given the task of investigating the deaths. The half-elf fervently hoped the Keeper's confidence that he would rise to the challenge (or perish trying) was not based on the knowledge of his membership in House Tarkanan. "Well, it would be nice to know what is happening to us. Do you have any idea where we should start?"

[Azaril]

"I can't answer that question in any simple fashion." Jaela replies to Jasper, her mind preoccupied by the missive in her hands. Her thumb keeps running over the seal attached to the envelope and she looks as though she might even cry. The fully-grown woman before reminds you of the helpless small child they brought to Flamekeep two-decades ago and forced to assume reign over the nation. Forced to smile as she was pushed from pillar to post to do her duty, as waves of visions clearly wracked her mind. Even back then it had exhausted her, and she was only a child.

It's Baerdren that comes to her rescue, snapping her out of her daydream and back to reality. Her eyes are desperately seeking sleep, but her mind seems too afraid to do so. Afraid of what the darkness of sleeping might bring. "Those people sent with that message were some of my most loyal Templars." His face darkens again; an expression that seems to be very familiar to his face right now. "There was no way to know who they were. They were dressed in plain clothes, their faces altered in a way that wasn't even illusionary—morphed by magic into something different and very much real—and their memories changed so they even believed their names to be different."

"I wrote this message in code so no one would be able to understand the contents, but they haven't even attempted to look at it. They just attacked, killed them, then died themselves?" Jaela looks at Fleur puzzled, a questioning glance replacing her confused one. Her eyes look distant, but a fire still burns as she tries to figure out what happened. "This doesn't make any sense. How did you survive?"

[Havelock]

Any surviving attackers were no longer present when I made my way up ahead to the car they were in, so that wasn't exactly hard.

[Azaril]

Jaela is taken aback by the lack of anything in Fleur's voice, but slowly comes to terms with it likely being a good thing. "It's good that you're not shaken up by the ordeal too much." The words come out of her mouth in a flat monotone, but her face still manages to keep a smile.

"The entire situation has been hushed by Queen Diani then. Likely not wanting to incite panic with people wishing to travel. The word is that the attack took place by bandits again, using the weather as concealment, but there was hardly anyone aboard. No one got injured, and those that escaped were able to run back to Flamekeep as the rail guards took care of the assailants." She sighs. "I hadn't even thought that it was a cover up for what actually happened."

"Queen Diani has been acting nothing short of strange these past months. Declaring that the Monarchy be abolished in Thrane once she passes was a move no one expected, but so many welcomed with open arms." Baerdren says, taking the missive up in his own hands and reading the words. "This is indeed the message that was sent," he lowers his hands, his gaze returning to you, "and it details of the movement of highly influential people, including some Cardinals, to and from Silvercliff Castle, south of Thaliost. It's the combination of who and why that gets our suspicions roused. It's been a regular occurrence for a while now, and this was a message to one of our contacts to infiltrate and see what was happening."

"But with the recent death of Lady Ofejjaia, Baerdren is being watched like a hawk and we're unable to conduct any further investigations into anything." Jaela finishes for Baerdren, her voice deeper now as she refuses to take her eyes from the missive. "It's looking more and more likely that the death of Ofejjaia and the attack on our deeply undercover Templars is sending a message to us to keep out." There's a pause as the information sinks in. Keys fitting into locks, and opening the doors to a multitude of explanations. "But the only way anyone could know of any of this is from the inside."

Baerdren shoots an alarmed look to Jaela, who still keeps her eyes down. "What?!" He exclaims. "Do you really think—"

"Did you really think it is so far-fetched to think about it?" She lifts her head, aiming the question to Baerdren but not expecting a reply as she continues. "Nothing has been right within this Church for years, and now things are happening and people are shifting around, walking on tiptoes, and you'd be blind not to see that something is going on." Her voice is becoming more ragged the more she talks.

"But I am blind." She says, her voice trailing with a hint of a squeak. "All of this is going on right under my nose and I have no idea what on Eberron is happening. Aren't these visions supposed to grant me the foresight to lead my people to salvation and safety? All they're doing is giving me cryptic warnings and flashbacks of things that have already come to pass, and making me so exhausted that I find it difficult to even stand."

Jaela doesn't wait for a reply, turning her attention back to you. She takes her time with her words, taking more and more effort with each sentence that passes her lips. "So it seems bigger than I thought. We need to find out what really happened to Ofejjaia, what happened on that lightning rail, and why chaos is reigning over my Church. You are to stay here within the Cathedral. You will be assigned guest rooms on the upper floors. I need you to go to the scene of it all—Baerdren will give you the key to his residence—and try to make sense of anything you find. If this is a message sent to us, it's not an unlikely assumption that something else may have been left to further convey their words. However you must do this out of the sight of anyone else. It is likely that whoever is tracking my actions will likely be tracking you and them knowing about you is likely to be inevitable, but make sure that no one else knows what exactly it is you're doing."

A shaking hand reaches to a glass filled with water, and Jaela sits there taking several small sips in an attempt to soothe her aching voice. "You will be given gold to fund anything you may require for the task, and we'll reward you with information and safety. You will want for nothing while you are under my care, but the call for luxuries and extravagances at my expense will not be tolerated. That still comes out of your own pocket."

"Norman." She looks at him, her eyes softening and smiling. "I know what you have been through with the Church, and if I had been of any age to change how you were treated, I would have stepped in. I'm asking this of you as a great favour, but I need to you set aside your differences with the Church and do this for me. For the embodiment of what you once believed in, rather than those who seek to corrupt it. What say you, Paladin of the Silver Flame?"

Baerdren reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, silver key. "This is the master key to my house. It will open any door, and pressing it against the window frames will cause them to open the enchantment that keeps them barred. Use it wisely, and come back to us with something we can use."

[Orosboru]

Norman, silently listening to the conversation, grits his teeth in consternation. Something foul was happening in the Church, and without a strong ruler this petty war of politics could lead to a schism. Bastards. What Thrane needs is not another bloody war of succession. That's what lead to the Day of-

He had to help.

"Do you remember that day, so many years ago?" He begins. "You were in a balcony, waving down to us as we went off to war. I remember the cheers and the smiles and the laughter. In their hearts and minds, we've already won. You were so..." He stops, looking for the right word. "So... great, even back then, that there was glory in earning your smile. And so we all went off to fight for Thrane, the Church, and for you."

"We little flames - I do not remember what happened on that day. But it was like a breath, a divine breath that snuffed us all out in one fierce blow." His shaking hand is grasped by the other, trying to keep still. "My friends are revered martyrs of the Church. Me? I'm a embarrassment. I'm a reminder of a failed war." He leans on the wall. "I had the cheek to survive."

"I don't fight for Thrane, or for the Church of the Silver Flame." Norman steels himself and stands up straight. "I fight for the girl who waved all of us goodbye. I fight for my comrades-" He gives a short look at Baerdren "-who stood at my side. Countries can change. The wars of succession proved that. The Church can be changed, corrupted, as you say. But people are stubborn."
He smiles for the first time. "People have faith. I'd give my life - not for Thrane, not for the Church, not for honour - but for you. And that will never change."

Suddenly embarrassed, he stalks away and exits the room.

[Havelock]

The Paladin leaves before the briefing is over? I suppose this is going to be one of those stories where the knight of light doesn't come in shiny armor on a milky white stallion to rescue the damsel in distress. Just as well, considering that I would risk playing the latter, and considering how much their suffering is played up to make the audience root for the knight...on the other hand those stories tends to be rather bleak and discomforting.

Maybe it was three pairs of eyes glaring at her, maybe she was able to control herself to a certain degree, maybe she just wanted to let that last line hang across the room for a moment, or maybe she actually had planned the sudden shift to seriousness in her evidently trained voice all along.

I take it that you did not cast speak with dead on the late Seneschal? Why?

[RdMarquis]

Jasper watched him go. Though they were strangers, he did feel a certain amount of respect for the paladin's conviction. His apparent contempt for himself, on the other hand, disturbed Lovett. It called to mind similar things he had heard from Aberrant mark bearers. The powers they gained without warning and subsequent prejudice, if not worse, caused them to hate themselves. But there were presumably other reasons for Norman's attitude.

"Well, I suppose I should thank you for hosting us like this. And if I may offer some unsolicited advice?" He regarded the Keeper with a concerned, almost paternal expression. "Get some rest. Soon. The challenge set before you will only seem more daunting if you are weary." Jasper's manner became businesslike again and he took the key from the Cardinal. "Now, about the matter of investigating the scene. Is there a more discreet means of reaching your home, sir? Or entering it, for that matter?"

[Azaril]

"We didn't cast such a spell because we have no body." Baerdren scratches his chin where a good layer of stubble had started to grow, making a soft scratching sound that echoes more than he expected. He stops. "I suppose I should have told you that sooner. I apologise. I've had less than enough sleep myself for quite a while now, and things are escaping my mind. When the authorities returned to my house after the initial discovery, the body was gone yet the doors and wards around the windows remained locked and uninterrupted. That is one of the chief reasons why I'm a suspect myself."

Jaela smiles at the you and nods. "I will indeed get some rest, but I must stress that you are not to worry about me. What you have seen of me before is just public appearance. There is nothing to say that the turmoil I am going through is not just the regular day-to-day trial of being the Keeper of the Silver Flame." Her smile is sincere, but her words hide something more. However you all get the distinct impression (because you all passed your sense motive checks for the first time) that whatever is happening to her has been accepted, and there is no real worry about it at all. Almost like it is normal, just for differing reasons than the one she provided.

"As for getting into my house," Baerdren says, "I would suggest sometime after dark, and via less than obvious methods. There is a hatch down to a small fuel storage room that is adjacent to the cellar around the back of my house. The hatch itself is locked, but you have the key so it's not a problem. A few well-placed spells or other means of getting through the north-facing wall of that room will get you into the basement of my house. It's rather thin, it won't take you long. I would recommend against bashing the wall down because it would grab attention, but if there is no other method then perhaps trying to enter through a window would be quieter."

[Havelock]

I only need a hole big enough for me to see through. Picked up a few tricks from some Escapology Performer that had gold burning a hole in his pocket and my pretty face on his mind. I can endure worse in exchange for a free dinner at the Celestial Vista. Fleur smiled. Details and embroideries made up on the fly are more fun to tell. That particular trick was far beyond his financial means, so was the Celestial Vista, and it was her body that he wanted. All he got out of it was a bill forcing him to work the dishes for three weeks.

Doesn't work well for the other two unless there happens to be something that can be conveniently opened from the inside.

[Azaril]

"There wouldn't be a problem opening any windows legitimately if you were to be on the inside first. Just make sure you're carrying the key when you do so, or things tend to get a little temperamental if you don't." Baerdren smiled politely, trying to ignore the image of what Fleur could have been up to to learn such a trick.

[Havelock]

What sort of wards are in place anyway? There was this story I picked up in Fairhaven about a trapped doorway that turned unwelcome guests into toads. It's settings were such, however, that it interpreted that command a bit too much to the letter. The owner's mother in law visited, and she was the kind that us storytellers like to paint as fiendish hags. She stepped through the door and POOF! Fleur heaved her palms up besides her head for extra drama Toad for mother in law..

[Azaril]

"That's... interesting." Baerdren replies, raising both his eyebrows in one fluid motion. "They're wards that keep people out of my home, that's all you need to know. I'd like to keep at least a little bit of my privacy intact after all of this, if you wouldn't mind. Having to put my home on display is enough invasion as it is."

"I will likely have more information about other matters when you return. So I wish you the best of luck with your investigation." Jaela nods furtively to Baerdren, who stands and walks over to the doorway.

"I shall see you out." Baerdren says, "It's easy to get caught up and get lost when you're down here.

"When you are done with your search, or you need to contact me for any reason, post a notice on the public board in the market square stating that a travelling circus is soon to pass through Sigilstar. If contact with me is very urgent, have your notice contains the words 'hidden wonders of Xen'drik'. You have rooms reserved under the party name of 'Gantz' in the Guilded Dragon inn. I will send a messenger to reach you within the hour of seeing an urgent message, or at midnight if it is not. I hope you can figure this all out, for all our sakes."

[Havelock]

What! No exploration of this place? Fleur's fake (well, maybe not quite, but at least exaggerated) disappointment did not appear to entirely real. Like some little kid that was told that there would not be a mummer's show for the fair this year. Hypothetically, if I knew of a teenage Orien boy with red curly hair and freckles that is yet to kiss a girl, with the right dragonmark and I persuaded him to pop inside your house, empty as it is so that he could open the door for me so nobody would disturb us... Fleur's grin was the kind that oozed of mischief, as if she'd placed a bucket of water on top of the door to the keeper's office or something equally naughty. Would that work? Or would I need to figure out how to deliver a toad to House Orien without them getting really angry. Kissing toads doesn't turn them into humans, though I'm not sure if I ever tried one that was born a human.....

[Azaril]

"Don't try my patience, girl." The voice was cold and commanding, a stark contrast from what you had heard pass from Jaela's lips beforehand. "Baerdren may have the tolerance of a saint, but I do not. We may all be pieces on a game board, this is no trivial game I've asked you to play. I tasked you to a serious matter, and I expect you to treat it as such."

"I think we better go," Baerdren smiled, glad to see the fire back to burning bright within his ward as he closed the door. "I will see to it personally that you do your duty. As much as it pains me to force you into this, I don't think any of this is optional right now. If I could explain more of the situation to put you at east then I would, but for now you will have to be satisfied with what has been said. We shall find Norman, and you are to do as you have been tasked."

[Havelock]

Well, fine, would teleporting into your house work? Stiffy religious types. No fun.

[Azaril]

"It would work, if you were to do it yourself. I would strongly forbid employing someone else to do it. It's too risky. We need to keep what you're doing a secret, and getting someone else to teleport you requires telling them where you wish to go."

[Havelock]

All work and no play makes Sir Templar a dull boy Fleur mumbled just loud enough for anyone with decent hearing to pick up.

Well, let's go indulge ourselves in Sir Norman's game of hide and seek, shall we?