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After learning of the signatures Jessa was able to obtain, Serena congratulated her. "Well done, I think this is starting to come together. I'm afraid we didn't return with any physical evidence but we did solve one mystery..." She shares with the mayor and Jessa the events of the night. "...so you see it's not much to go on." Serena smiled, "I suppose I'll wait to collect my 50 gp reward until after Randar is exposed, I would hate to have to pay his 'special' taxes! I am unsure what to do next," Serena said. "Should we approach the Baron with our evidence, or do you suppose we have enough? Perhaps we should first attempt to discern if the Baron is the least bit receptive to our evidence." She shrugged, "Who knows, he may expect his representatives to skim a little. I'd also like to show him Maury Miller's diary, it's hardly conclusive proof of murder, but it points to it," Serena said.
"I agree with Serena. I definitely think we should confront the Baron with this once we've organized our information." Jessa said. "This isn't just a little skimming off the top." She leans back in her chair and taps the sword's hilt.
Shepton concurred. "From what the diary and expense account shows, I'd say it was more than skimming a little. And then Rander had the nerve to boost the tax after Maury's death. From what I know of the Baron, he is the lawful sort."
"Yes," said O'Dwyer, "Narrrwell is known by those of my orrrderrr to be the last lawful strrronghold beforrre the Wild Coast. The next majorrr city, Safeton, is fairrrly wide open, and everrything to the south, well, law is not the orrrderrr of the day."
"I suppose," Black Blade sighed, "That we could expose him. But would that put Maury to peace? There's little difference between justice and avenging; usually it includes a death."
"Patience, Lass," offered O'Dwyer, "Therrre's nothing I like morrre than the feel a me brrroadsworrrd acrrross the side of one who makes laws ferrr no one's good but his own. But, the irrrony of having the law on me side, and then we go afterrr this swine, is just too delicious forrr me to rrush past." A wide grin crossed his weathered face.
Daltonne was unconvinced. "Well iffin you thin we have enough proof I guess we can go to the Baron, but I still thin if we catch him in the act we would have a much stronger case. All we have is the diary and four signed testimonials. This Randar must be a shrewd person to have gotten away with this fer so long. And he's trusted by the Baron. He will probably find a way out of this saying that the citizens don't like him and are trying to frame him. We don't like the guy, but the Baron might not be so quick to condemn him. By the way, where does he hang out at night anyway? Maybe we can git him or one of his cronies drunk and git them to talk about this here 'tax' or maybe Serena can charm one of them? I don't know, but I still thin we need more proof."
"We have the diary and four signed testimonies," Black Blade raised her hands in protest. "What other proof do we need? The testimonies themselves are as good as witnesses. Dammit, this bastard's been robbing this town blind and covering it up with the excuse of a protection tax. It didn't help Maury much, did it??" She stood, her hands on her hips. "I, however, like the idea of getting them drunk. If someone finds out where Rander's watering hole is, I'll be happy to undertake the mission." And a nice mug of ale to boot, her face clearly expressed. "I'll promise to behave somewhat...just if one of them gets a little too friendly with me...I won't be needing the help of some fanatic cleric this time...no offense O'Dwyer." She shrugs with a wink to Jessa.
Shepton answered, "That would work with many men, but this Rander is seldom out and about. He has a very nice mansion back down the road, near where Snags first found you. He has no need to go out. And, knowing how the townsfolk feel about him, he does not mingle. "
"From that, I'd wager that the Barrron knows little about Rrrander's extra income. He keeps such a low prrrofile. I've known grrriffters ta rrrub it in the face of those he's taken, when it's done with the consent of a higher authorrrity," concluded O'Dwyer. "I say we head to Narrwell, show the Barrron what we have, and see what he has to say."
"Yes. With what you have, and this letter from me," Shepton sheepishly prepares to hand over a paper, "confirming that what the others have written is true, and adding that I believe Rander responsible for Maury's death, I have every confidence that he'll authorize some action."
Shepton still held out his document. "What say you?"
"I was going to suggest that Mayor Shepton make the journey," Serena said, "but with his letter we should be able to demonstrate his belief in our evidence. If he is truly as lawful as you say, we have at least a fair chance of him considering our evidence," Serena said. "I hope we don't have to spend a month petitioning him... I understand just gaining an audience with a nobleman is often difficult." Serena looked at her companions. "I've never been to Narwell, does anyone know their way around the city?"
Seeing that no one had responded, O'Dwyer quipped, "Guess not. But how harrrd can it be ta find the Barrron of the place?" He laughed to himself about his little joke.
Jessa nodded. "Let's go to the Baron with this and as soon as possible. We shouldn't give Rander any time to do anything else."
"There's just one thing I'm unclear about. We know Maury's ghost was the one setting the fires, but why was he doing it? Just to get someone to investigate so that he could talk to them?" The elf continues, "Now that he's talked to you and you've promised him 'justice', will the fires cease?"
Since O'Dwyer was the last person to see the spirit, though only fleetingly, he said, "I had a good feeling about it, er, him, er the spirit. I think he understood our intentions were good."
Taking the paper from Shepton, Black Blade skimmed it over. "So," sighed Black Blade. "what say we get going?" She grinned. "But how are we sure the Baron isn't corrupted as Rander? We might find ourselves catching a slight case of imprisonment, maybe death, even you, Mayor. We don't know what side the Baron's on. Unless you know him personally, I'll likely draw my sword on him if he seems the least bit shadowy."
Jessa snorted a short laugh. "You're just itchy to draw that blade on just about anyone, old friend." The elf's face returned to its usual emotionless state. "You have a point though."
Daltonne looked at everyone, "All right let's get our things together and git started in the morning. Say O'Dywer will ye be comin' with us. A cleric might come in handy seeing as how the Baron is partial to 'em. And perhaps in your travels you've been to Narwell?"
"Yes, Lass, I'll be comin' with yee. No, I've not been ta the fine city, but I heerrrd good things about it. Though they hold St. Cuthbert in high esteem, they're not all bad."
And so, preparations were made for the two day ride to Narwell.
After two days of steady riding, with a one night stop over in their home base of Chatwin, the Femmes Fatales and O'Dwyer found themselves on the outskirts of Narwell. The weather had been favorable for the first day and much of this one. For the past hour, however, they had been riding in a light rainstorm. Minor puddles had pooled in the uneven lower parts of the road. As they neared the city, they had passed many farms, with reasonably large houses and barns, a far cry from the modest ones of Chatwin and Lowick. Now, a couple hundred yards away from the city proper, the walls of the city and the open southern gates could be seen through the mist. People appeared to be coming and going through them freely.
Having taken in the scene, the five nudged their mounts slowly forward towards the city. Closer inspection revealed stone walls, some 15' high, no one in sight upon them. The city gates were open wide.
"Definitely better off that Lowick," Black Blade mumbled as they enter the gates. "Though I'm forced to agree with you, O'Dywer, about the St. Cuthbert followers. A little too stiff for my likings, none the less. Now, to find the Baron."
"I think we should locate the court and then seek out a nearby inn," Serena suggested. "Give us a chance to clean up and perhaps talk to some local people. They might be able to explain what we need to do to petition the baron."
Daltonne agreed with Serena. "Maybe someone in the inn will be able to tell us how to git an audience with the Baron."
Jessa sneezed. "Ugh, all this miserable weather. I second the motion to find someplace warm. I'm sure people in an Inn would know something interesting."
"I'm with you," spat O'Dwyer in agreement, using his index finger as a wiper to flick rain drops from his forehead.
Looking about, the gates seemed unguarded. There was, however, a small boy, ragamuffin type, looking at the five newcomers. His small voice spoke out meekly. "Sorry to butt in Ladies, and Sir, but I couldn't help but hear yees say somethin about an inn?"
O'Dwyer looked down at the lad. "That's corrrect young man. Do you know of one?"
"In fact, Sir, I know of three. For there be three inns in Narwell where strangers can find safe haven."
The cleric dismounted. "Thrrree say yee. Well then," producing a piece of silver, "I tell you what. I you will tell us which one would be most enjoyed by these fine Ladies herrre, I will rewarrrd you with this coin."
At the sight of the coin, the lad's eyes grew wide and bright. He began to stammer, "Green, broen, castles," little of which made immediate sense.
"Now lad, calm yourrrself. Take yourrr time." The boy tried for, and finally got his breath. "Now, which inn would best suit us."
The boy took a deep breath. "I think you would like the Inn cross from on the green the best. It is well kept, reasonably priced, and just down this road," pointing into the city
O'Dwyer looked to his companions, "Lest someone objects? But grrreen is my favorrrite color." Hearing no dissenting opinions from his damp and cold companions, "Then lead on Lad." O'Dwyer walked his mount alongside the very excited boy.
"You have a name, young man?"
"I am known as Jennison."
"Well, Jennison, I am pleased to make yourr acquaintance."
They moved along the wide, muddy street, past many shops and stores, till a main junction was reached. On the near left hand corner stood the Inn of the Seventh Happiness. The cross left hand corner was a large open green space. Jennison pointed to the inn. "See, not too far, was it?"
"No, lad, not too far attole. Now here's yerrr coin," handing over the piece of silver. The boy took it with care, stared at it for an eternity, then secreted it away. "Before you go, Jennison, I've a prrroposition for you."
The lad looked slightly confused.
"Errr, a deal then?"
The boy seemed amiable and bade the cleric go on. "You seem to know your way around the town."
"As well as most, Sir, yes."
"Then, be here at nine on the morrow, and you can be our guide. You'll earn yerself anotherrr silverrr."
"I'be here Sir. You can count on me."
Minutes later, the five found themselves inside the Inn on the Green. The entryway led to a major room, done in dark wood. A huge stone hearth dominated one wall. A strong fire blazed within it. Behind the low desk, they found the innkeeper, a dwarf named Mern Grundel. Off to one side, a staircase led to an upper level. To the other, an opening revealed a dining area. Aromatic aromas waived in. A handwritten sign foretold: "Tonight's special Bloodhawk!"
"Bloodhawk...hmmm..." Black Blade grinned. "Food or music...who knows?
"First thing tomorrow we ask the kid about where the Baron is," she tapped the hilt of Fear. "We're gonna have a bone to pick with him, and if my suspicions are correct and he's as corrupted as Rander, we're definitely be picking his bones all right." She seemed perpetually on guard here.
Taking off her damp cloak and laying it over one arm, Jessa stated, "Well, at least now we can dry off and get some warm food. What says everyone about getting a warm meal?"
"Also, do we want to rent rooms while we're here?" she asked.
Serena shook the water from her long, blonde hair. Sidling up close to Black Blade she whispered: "Take care you don't commit treason by voicing your suspicions..."
Black Blade smirked at Serena. "Don't worry about me when it comes to voicing my opinion," she mumbled. "I'm as silent as a corpse when it comes to that." She stroked the hilt of her sword as she ordered an ale and a side of mutton.
Mern assured her that mutton is always available, "But tonight's special is bloodhawk."
"Yes to the rooms," Serena said to Jessa. "We may be here for a while. A meal would be perfect, though I admit never having tried Bloodhawk," Serena said, raising an eyebrow doubtfully.
Upon hearing this, Mern piped, "Then yer in for a treat, yes you are. Bloodhawks are the finest game birds around these parts. Rare it is that we have them on the menu. Sometimes travelers coming down from Dyvers, through the Gnarley, they get lucky enough to be attacked by a few. The real lucky ones get to the birds before losing an eye. Then they sells 'em to us, and we cooks 'em up. Yes, a treat tonight, a real treat."
Smiling broadly to the innkeeper Serena asked for rooms and a meal. "Should we get three rooms? I'll share a room with another. Other than good Mr. O'Dwyer," she added hastily, grinning. "I wish to keep my cat with me, friend innkeeper," Serena said politely while she stroked the cat's fur. "If you would allow me to do so I'll put her down so that she could," she lowered her voice and bent down, "look for any m.i.c.e. that might be lingering about..."
"Your pet is welcome long as she sticks to the mice, no need to spell, we know they're about, and leaves the bloodhawk to the guests.
Three rooms were arranged then, with Jessa and Black Blade in one, Serena and Daltonne in another, and O'Dwyer alone with his thoughts, his good yet chaotic thoughts.
The dining hall was full that evening. But as guests of the Inn, the five were shown to a very fine table of to a side. The serving girl explained that "the bloodhawk brings 'em in." While Black Blade chowed down on her mutton, her tough old reliable mutton, the others delight in the game bird. It had just the right sense of gaminess, in a rich brown sauce. Naturally, there were plenty of root crops and fresh bread to fill the emptiest of stomachs. Wine was the order of the evening, though O'Dwyer stuck to ale, selecting an imported (from Celene) brew called `Proverb's Brown.`
During the meal, Serena asked Mern Grundel if he knew how to gain an audience with the Baron.
"The Baron you say. He's usually in the citadel in the northwest town. Now you can't just walk in on him, but I do believe appointments can be made. Never had cause to bother Lord Blaine myself. I guess if you have good enough reason, you can gain an audience."
The blonde elf smiled at Mern. "Your food and wine are delicious. I confess that this is the first time I've ever had bloodhawk and I was a little apprehensive at first. My complements to your chef." She glanced around the crowded room. "By the looks of it, you'll have many complements tonight."
"So, tomorrow we go and schedule an appointment with the Baron Blaine?" Jessa asked her compatriots.
As the evening meal progressed, O'Dwyer spent much of his time evaluating the beer, Proverb's Brown. He asked Mern the origin of "this fine brrrew."
The dwarf beamed with pride. "It is made by one of my kind. An entrepreneur named Proverb. I import it all the way from Enstad, way cross the Welkwood in Celene."
To which O'Dwyer replied, "Then someday I must make a pilgrimage to that fine city. I hear it is the jewel of Celene." And noticing Black Blade's preference for ale he said, "Perhaps someday we'll both make the ride. I hear the Welkwood has many interesting sites."
Daltonne enjoyed her meal of bloodhawk and both wine and ale with her meal. She said, "I'll jes keep an ear open to see iffin I over hear any talk 'bout the Lord, but I thin I 've heard he's a pretty good guy. Anyway, I am certainly enjoying this here feast. My regards to the cook!"
As evening turned to night, bellies full, thoughts turn to sleep, and all turn to their rooms.
Black Blade didn't want to be rude, but she could never get used to the taste of poultry, and she had friends who trained hawks for hunting...eating hawk wouldn't seem right...as for wine...never acquired a taste for it, give her the ale any day. (As much as she hated to admit it, she did have a few things in common with the cleric.) Black Blade turned in last, sitting until the dining room closed, but no mention of the Baron or of Rander.
By about 9 in the morning, the five found themselves in the in the dining room enjoying a filling and fine breakfast: eggs, fresh bread, warm ale, fresh fruit, salted meats- are all available for the taking. There was also tea, juice and milk. Involved in the meal, they are slightly surprised to hear a voice interrupt.
"I'm here, Sir, and Ladies, like I said I would." Standing off to O'Dwyer's right side was the lad, Jennison, dressed simply in pantaloons and a slick. A white bloused shirt peeks out form within. The slick is dripping, and the boy's hair was wet. "It still be raining. But if you need a guide, I'm willing to brave the elements.
O'Dwyer had been delighting in his favorite breakfast, a bowl of warmed ale, with a couple of raw eggs slowly dipped into it. "Cooks 'em right up, yes it does. Warms one up in the morning. Gets the blood flowing."
The cleric looked up from his bowl, a bit of yellow dripping from his beard. "Do, tell lad, do tell. Rain you say. I'm sure the farmers are happy about it. Now go hang that slick in the vestibule, and come sit yourself down. You'll be needing some breakfast if you're going to guide us today. We vet big plans, big plans indeed."
After breakfast Serena gathered her few possessions and Chasm. "I wonder if we should pack a lunch?" she pondered aloud. "Oh I suppose our young friend could be trusted to fetch us a bite if need be." She smiled at the lad. She counted out the coins she owed for the night's lodging and meals. "Thank you kind sir," she said addressing the innkeeper. "We may be returning this evening."
Leaving the inn, Serena quietly admonished Black Blade again: "Please leave your blade sheathed in the Baron's presence. If he ~is~ as you suspect, it is likely our best move would be a hasty exit. Not," she grimaced, and lowered her voice even further, "attacking him..." As they made their way toward the citadel in the northwest part of town, Serena asked, "Who should do the talking?"
Daltonne said, "Must hav missed somethin. Did we git an appointment with the Baron or are we jes going to the citadel. Anyway, I thin that Serena and Jessa should do the talking."
"I agree," Black Blade nodded. "The last thing we need is for me to fly off the handle if the situation gets rough."
Jessa shook her head. "No we haven't made an appointment with the Baron. I think we should, though. He may be more inclined to listen to our charges, then if we just barged in on him."
The elf smirked at Daltonne. "Thank you for you confidence in me."
Jessa made sure all of her gear was packed correctly, but before removing it from her room she asked, "Are we staying here tonight also? I seriously doubt that this business will be completed today."
It was agreed that whatever the case, it would be best to stay at least another day. Arrangements were made with Mern, and rooms for this night, in fact for an indefinite stay, were assured.
Jennison led the way out into the drizzle. The party headed north along a wide main street, with the young lad pointing out the highlights. Many fancy shops lined the sides of the streets, selling items such as jewelry, fine fabrics, dresses and cloaks, ornaments, and other refinements that one would not find in Chatwin.
After a solid walk of half a mile, the street took on a new tone. To the right, east, stood rows of smaller buildings. "This here is the crafts area, and basic housing," explained the young man. It was apparent that these building were fairly new. "Yes, new there are. Seems some so-called heroes got rambunctious in the saving of a friend couple `o years back, and in their careless haste, they burned down this whole district. One of them was consumed in the conflagration. Managed to save this fellow though. Rascal by the name of Ren. I hear he's over in Greyhawk now."
"Not much excitement around here since then. The biggest new here is about the penmaker, Callery Frickart. He's come up with a metal point for his pen. Damned, oh sorry ladies, darned if this hasn't set off a furor in all quarters. Anyway, nothing to bother yerselves over. You've a Baron to see," he beamed, veering off to the left.
As everyone's attention was drawn away from crafter's rows, they could see to the left/west, a vast green space, rising gently as a large knoll. Situated atop of this very picturesque rise was a major building, somewhat castle like. A stone wall surrounded it, and large black iron gates seemed to offer the only entry. Large black gates guarded by sentries.
Jennison led the way right up to them.
One of the sentries moved to block the lad's path. "OK, young fellow. What are you doing -?"
Jennison did not let him finished, "These ladies here, and this gent, have urgent business with the Baron, they do. So stand aside and let us pass." He spoke in a calm straightforward manner.
The gatesman smiled, and stepped aside. "Of course, pass through good Sir." He tipped his hat, "Ladies, Sir."
Moments later the party found themselves inside the walls. The grounds were well kept, and large trees were all about . A large building loomed up before them. Large stones made it all the more imposing. Various plants tumbled down from the walls. Jennison led the way to a large door and pulled it open. They entered into a large wood lined vestibule which emptied into a maze of hallways. Some men at arms stood about; other men and women moved through the halls. Some took notice, but none said anything to the party. Jennison did not hesitated, turning left, then right, then right again, eventually coming to a metal door, which stood open.
Once inside this obvious receiving room, he spoke to a well dressed, well groomed man, maybe 30, who had been sitting at a table, but rose as the party entered.
Jennison spoke plainly, as if ordering pie. "My companions would like to see the Baron."
The man, dressed in browns, with a sash of some sort from shoulder to waste, a long sword, sheathed and leaning against his chair responded. "I say. To see the Baron? Just like that. Well, not just anyone," looking at Jennison, "can see the Baron. You know that."
Sufficiently rebuked, Jennison moved off to the side and looked at the floor.
The man turned to the others. "Now who are you and what business have you five with the Baron?"
Black Blade remembered she was to keep her mouth shut. The last thing she wanted to do is rot in jail. Glancing over to Jessa, she silently demanded her to speak. The fighter's hand was hovering near the hilt of her sword.
Not that he understood this `sword thing,' O'Dwyer could sense something about the sword and Black Blade. He took a position near her, and nodded in a reassuring manner, hoping that they would have calming influences on each other. He remained silent, allowing Jessa and Serena to do the talking, for now at least
Black Blade leaned over to whisper in his ear, "Maybe I'll tell you about it when we get back to the inn." As an afterthought, she added, "If we get back to the inn, if this guy doesn't piss me off." Still, she appreciated his thoughtfulness.
Serena bowed politely and introduced each member of the group. "And I am Serena Jule, resident of Chatwin. I apologize for our young guide's enthusiasm, he was just trying to help." She smiled at the lad. "Sir, we are here as representatives of some of the residents and the mayor of Lowick. We humbly ask an audience of the Baron so that he might hear our complaint and in his wisdom decide on its merit." She continued calmly but earnestly: "We feel this matter is of concern to our good Baron of Narwell as it relates to commerce and public safety.
Jessa nodded in agreement. "At his convenience, of course, but he may wish to hear of the matter soon, so that it may be stopped before it continues much farther."
The man looked the visitors over. He seemed to be weighing the matter in his mind. "Lowick? Hmm, Lowick. The Mayor of Lowick and its citizens. Commerce, did you say?" His eyes went from person to person, but fell particularly on the two who had spoken. Jennison had inched near the hall doorway, and was fidgeting with the frame.
Finally, he had made his decision. Smiling at Serena and Jessa, he said, "If you will wait here. Boy. Stop touching the door, you'll print it! I'll see what I can do. "
He turned and went through a door, shutting it behind him. The five were left alone, with their guide, to contemplate the meaning of life. Jennison remained in the doorway, amusing himself with a close inspection of the molding.
Jessa turned to the rest of her group. "Well, he seemed obliging enough once we explained the situation. Call me naive, but I think we'll get that audience with the Baron."
She looked sternly at Black Blade. "You keep that sword sheathed, hear me? We don't want any incidents that will turn the Baron against us before he hears us out!"
As a bout of paranoia set in, Black Blade began searching around the room, trying to find anything of interest. She stopped every once in a while, listening to hear if the walls and doors are thin enough for the five to eavesdrop...or someone eavesdrops on them... but she heard nothing, ..... except Jessa' admonition. The albino whirled around to face her elven friend. "If the Baron is on our side to begin with, then there shouldn't be a problem," she hissed. "If he poses to be as much as a threat as the bastard Rander is, then.... Let me put it in simpler terms: if the Baron's just, then I behave. If not," she shrugged. "It may get messy." Clutching Fear's hilt, she returned to her scan of the room.
O'Dwyer moved over to the window to have a look at the grounds, to see if there was any sudden activity, perhaps brought about by their presence. All he saw out the window are a few guards who seemed to be just guarding, the trees, and some lovely flowers.
After hearing Jessa's and Black Blade's concerns, he offered to use his detect evil spell. "I'll cast it on the fellow when he rrreturrrns. Wouldn't dare use magic on a Barrron, least not beforrre getting to know him."
Black Blade heard this, "Detecting evil might not help us. If the fellow's just following orders, it might not work. If you do cast it, be very inconspicuous while doing it. It may be seen as an act of aggression."
"Smart. The last thing I want to do is rot in jail. The Baron is a powerful man, or so it seems. He probably has magic-users aiding him. They may be able to detect magic." An idea dawned on her. "Serena, O'Dywer, is it possible that we're being watched magically?"
Serena looked very disturbed in the direction of the conversation. "Stop, please, everyone. I have every confidence that in this matter the Baron knows nothing. Think. Should the Baron wish to raise the tax he would ~raise the tax~ that is all. He would not have to resort to threats and extortion." She jabbed a finger in the direction she assumed the Baron is: "He is the Law; and we would be best served to remember that if it turns out that our local tax collector is just following orders. As for being watched... One should always guard their tongues my friends. One is generally best served to keep their suspicions to themselves until all the facts are known. And even then... silence could keep a head on your shoulders."
Black Blade turned to Jessa and raised a white eyebrow.
"You'd think I'd learn by now to keep my mouth shut," she smirked.
At this moment, the gentleman returns. O'Dwyer decided against using any spell now, as the possibility of magically eavesdropping , and Serena's warning scared him off.
The gentleman said, "You are in luck. The Baron will see you now."
Jennison smacked his hands together, "Oh boy, we get to see the Baron."
To which the gentleman replied in a serious tone, "No Jennison, no you. Only these people who have come from Lowick. The Baron is interested in what they have to say; he cares little of what his nephew is doing parading around as a common street urchin."
His cover blown, Jennison retreated into embarrassed silence, and sat quietly in a chair.
"Now, if you five will come this way. Oh, My name is Goodkind. I am the Baron's personal secretary."
Goodkind led the way through the rear door, into a somber hallway. It ran on, in a winding style, for some sixty feet. Every 20' there stood two chain armored, polearm armed, men. They were completely motionless. Goodkind showed them no mind as he led the way to a large ornate set of wooden double doors, where two more guards stood. One of them opened the right door and Goodkind went in.
This room was another entry room. Very well decored in dark woods, large desk, carved chairs. To one side was a grand wooden chest. To the other a magnificent stained glass window, with a huge family crest. Behind the desk was an ornate door. Another man, this one maybe fifty, with graying thinning hair, dressed in browns, sat behind the desk. Goodkind spoke to him. "These are the five I told you about. They bring news from Lowick, a village which in under Lord Blaine's domain."
The older man stood up. He was bent over, making him a mere 5' 5". He had to turn his head to see the five. "I am Gavriel, personal manservant to Lord Blaine. He has agreed to speak with you. He is always anxious to hear news from the outlands." His voice was soft, his eyes dull brown. "Now, if you will please place whatever weapons you have in that chest over there," pointing to the large ornate wooden box, "we can proceed to the Baron's office. Feel free to use whatever means, magical or physical to check the chest. You will see it is quite secure, and there is a key inside it. After you've secured your weapons, you can lock them there and take the key with you. Of course, if any of you would rather stand guard here while the others proceed, that is acceptable too."
Gavriel and Goodkind spoke about the weather, while waiting for the five to act on the directions.
Black Blade glanced at the chest, then at Fear, then back at the chest. She had a dilemma on her hands. Her crimson eyes frozen in fear, she stammered out, "I can't leave my sword here. The weapon's...special...I don't take it off even if I sleep..." She glanced over to Jessa for support.
O'Dwyer asked the two men, "RRRather than check the chest, I would like to check you fellow for intent. Would you mind?"
Gavriel and Goodkind smiled, "No, we wouldn't mind. Cast away."
O"Dwyer cast his spell, throwing in the whole room for that matter. He detected no evil emanating from either gentleman, nor from anything that was already in the room.
Daltonne had no qualms about putting her weapons in the chest. "Iffin we can't trust 'em then we may as well have not come at all."
"Easier said than done," Black Blade muttered sourly.
Taking her sword belt off reluctantly, she held the black sword in her hand, as if weighing the situation. She was very iffy about leaving Fear here...then, in fear that maybe there was a dishonest soul in the group, she held off with putting it in the chest until absolutely necessary.
Jessa shrugged and bit her lip. "You may have to wait out here. I know being separated from the sword is hard for you, but I doubt they'll allow you to take it in. If you do have to stay out here, you'll be able to guard our backs if something does happen." Then to the group, "I agree with Daltonne. We should be able to handle ourselves if trouble arises, but I doubt it will. We've gotten this far, we might as well continue through with it."
Jessa removed the key from the bottom of the chest and held onto it while she removed the daggers from her boots and the stiletto from her waist and placed them in the chest with her sword.
Serena set her ornamental looking dagger into the chest without hesitation. "Please, my friends, were entering into the presence of this land's ruler," Serena said, sounding a bit distressed at her companions concerns.
Daltonne placed her weapons in the chest, followed by O'Dwyer. Finally, and with great effort, Black Blade parts with her sword, still in its scabbard.
Gavriel smiled, "There now that wasn't so hard, was it." Then he opened the door behind him, revealing another passage. He led the way as it wound its way, seemingly upward, past another three pairs of guards, who paid the passers by no nevermind. At last another ornate door was reached, which Gavriel opened and entered, saying to the interior, "M'Lord, these are the visitors I told you about."
As he had stepped to the side, the five could see that there was another large desk, behind which sat a rather imposing figure of a man. Maybe sixty years of age, with a full head of thick white hair and eyebrows to match, an imposing weathered face with bold brown eyes looked at them.
His voice boomed deeply, "Well, don't just stand out there. You've come all this way. Get in here and tell me what this is all about.
As the five shuffled in, he said to Gavriel, "You told me they came from ...?"
"Lowick, M'Lord."
"Ah, yes, Lowick, that's the little village ......?"
"Bout two days west of here, M'Lord, near the Welkwood."
"Yes, near the Welkwood, yes. The village where, ah, the mayor is ....?"
"Shepton, M'Lord." Gavriel continued to fill in the Baron's absences. There was no hint of irritation in his voice, just a man doing his job.
"Shepton, Shepton. Know the name, not the face. Hmm, now who is my man in Lowick?"
"Your representative is Rander, M'Lord. Sent there about a year ago after old Lunt died."
"Yes, Lunt, good man that Lunt. Liked him. Don't know this Rander, though. Who is he related to that I appointed him," he asked frankly.
"He is a second cousin, once removed, M'Lord, so not surprising that you don't know him. Can't say that I remember him either."
At this point the five were directed to very comfortable seats. The Baron turned his attention to his guests. He stood up and began to move around the desk. "Sorry, just getting caught up on my background. See, my regency stretches from there," pointing to a map on the wall behind where the five were sitting, "to there." The sweep of his hand roughly encompassed the lands from the east of Narwell all the way to the Welkwood. "Many villages, towns, hamlets. Just can't keep track of all of them. Now this one," pointing to Chatwin, "this one is special. I know it well. There is a group there, the Chatwin Heroes. Always making news. I hear they are in Greyhawk right now. And, didn't one of their former number come to stay here?"
Gavriel supported the Baron's assertion. "That is right M'Lord. Ignatius Nusmith, cleric of St. Cuthbert, now resides in the Temple where Fitzmorris is the Prelate."
The Baron's eyes grew brighter. "This land would be a better place if there were more heroes like the Heroes." He gazed away for a moment, then returned his attention.
His voice was strong and steady, "I am Baron Blaine, Lord of these realms. You have come from Lowick with a complaint. You have your audience. Complain away." He seated himself in his chair behind his massive desk, leaned forward and stared into the eyes of the five, person by person.
O'Dwyer did his best to follow the Baron's moves about the room, nodding in acknowledgment at the mention of the Heroes.
O'Dwyer preferred if Serena and Jessa do the talking. He was ready to offer clerical confirmation of the information and the documents at the appropriate times.
Black Blade began drumming her fingers on the arm of the chair, tapping her foot, shifting in the chair, and other nervous acts. Looking at Jessa and Serene, she clearly had an expression on her face that clearly said, "please get this over with." Scratches her neck, shifts again, runs her hand through her hair...
Serena bowed deeply. "My lord," she says, and remained in that position until acknowledged.
Jessa bowed also, though she quickly straightened.
The others took the two women's lead and lowered their heads.
"Go on with what you have to say," said Lord Blaine.
"My lord Baron, we have come representing the citizens and the mayor of Lowick. Your representative, Randar is the reason for their complaint. In short sir, they accuse him of levying a protection tax, attack on the citizens and property of Lowick, and the murder of your subject Maury the Miller."
Gavriel, who had been standing silent and rather disinterested, turned towards Serena.
"We have evidence to this my lord," Serena said, gesturing to the others to provide the signatures and journal, "in the form of the miller's diary, the mayor's written statement and the signatures of several upstanding citizens." The blonde elf gathered the documents from the others and, as Serena continued speaking, placed them in front of the Baron on his desk.
The Baron gestured to Gavriel. He quietly moved to the desk and took up the papers. The Baron's gaze never left Serena.
"My lord, we believe Maury Miller failed to pay the protection tax and was killed for his insolence. The mill was then closed, my lord, causing an interruption in commerce as Lowick's farmers were forced to transport their grains to Chatwin."
Jessa nodded in agreement. "We have researched your laws and found reason that it would be advisable for us to present this matter to you since Randar is your representative and therefore under your jurisdiction only, and it your place to dispense any sanctions in this matter."
Gavriel continued to look at the papers as if studying for an exam.
Again gesturing to her companions, "We are not all citizens of Lowick, my lord. We were hired by the mayor to investigate the mysterious fires plaguing Lowick. In our investigating we uncovered the aforementioned allegations. Let me assure you sir, we are your loyal subjects from the city of Chatwin, and though we were hired to investigate the fires, we bring you this complaint from Lowick as a favor to the citizens there who are afraid to speak out, and we will receive no compensation for our accusations."
Again she bowed. "Thank you Lord Baron for hearing our complaint." Jessa, again, bowed also.
Black Blade glanced out the window, her fingers still drumming on the arm of the chair. Chews on her nails... *The Baron doesn't seem evil...* Taps her foot... *Why does diplomacy take so damn long?!*
Only now did the Baron remove his eyes from Serena. His face was tight. Gavriel approach from the Baron's left. "Look Here, M'Lord. A letter from Shepton, confirming what they say about the defense tax."
"But we have no defense tax," said the Baron. "Do we?"
"We don't, but it appears this Rander has been collecting one," surmised Gavriel. "There seems to be sufficient evidence to suggest that he was collecting one. As they said, a number of townsfolk, and a record in this book, the miller's account book. "
The Baron clenched his teeth, "A defense tax. " he spat harshly. Then he paused, "OK, so Rander has apparently lining his pockets. But you said `murder.' You claim the miller was murdered? And you mention fires? Have you any evidence to support the accusation that the Baron's representative is a murderer?" Though his shoulders had sagged slightly, his imposing figure demanded a response.
Sir," Black Blade beckoned quickly. After she was acknowledged, she then asked, "Do you believe in haunts? Ghosts? Any of the sorts?"
O'Dwyer watched the Baron and Gavriel's response to the mention of haunts. Stroking his beard, and speaking calmly, he said, "Lorrrd Blaine, I am O'Dwyerrr, itinerrrant prrriest of Trrritheron the Summonerrr. Frrrom what I gather, this Narrrwell is a lawful town, with the clerrrics of Cuthberrrt firrrmly established. Now, mind you, I have no real fondness for law, mainly because it sometimes obscurrres trrruth. But I am willing to submit to a test of law, set by yourrr Cuthberrrtian allies. Have one of them summoned, as I was to Lowick, and I will submit to a test of trrruth. For on my word as a cleric of good, myself and these fine lassies herrre, we `spoke' to the ghost, or haunt, or spirrrit of the late Maurrry the Millerrr, and his spirit made it clear to us that Rrrander saw to his murrrder."
O'Dwyer remained calm and seated throughout his speech.
Daltonne looked to her friends and O'Dwyer and said to the Lord, "Begging your pardon Lord, but I was there when Maury's 'ghost' spoke with us. Iffin it will help I will also submit to this test of truth so as you can know we are not lying about such a thing."
The Baron, Lord Blaine, looked from face to face. He almost glared at the holy symbol which O'Dwyer brandished on the left shoulder of his cloak. He looked to Gavriel. Gavriel looked back. He held out the documents which the five had brought, in case the Lord wanted to look them over once again.
Blaine cleared his throat. "A test of truth. Hmm, that sounds intriguing," a slight grin crossed his face, "but entirely unnecessary. We have no doubt," looking at Gavriel once more, "that what you say is true. It is also hard to face. Now if I were to accept that Rander is all you say he is," his view drifted out the window, as he rose from his seat and moved around the desk, "then, I would have no choice but to dispatch an official force to arrest him."
Gavriel spoke so softly that at first he went un noticed, except by Blaine. "Begging your pardon, M'Lord, but if you do that, everyone will know that your appointed representative, someone you selected, is a scoundrel." Gavriel looked down at his own feet, as if offering his neck to the ax. "It will reflect poorly on your judgment."
Lord Blaine took this in, and turned towards the window once more. His voice came from a distance. "You are correct Gavriel, but how will it look if I don't?" Again he paused. "Of course, no one outside of those in this room knows about my knowing, do they?"
"No, M'Lord, they don't."
Jessa tensed slightly at the tone the Baron's voice seemed to take on.
The Baron's voice softened. "Then there is only one course of action which can protect the reputation of the name of Blaine, and maintain the integrity of my Barony."
An audible gulp was heard, as Gavriel choked out, "M'Lord, you can't mean...."
"Yes, Gavriel, I can."
Silence enveloped the room, as Lord Blaine turned to face the five and began to pronounce sentence. "You five are the only ones who know of my involvement in this affair, I have no choice but to pronounce you all my official deputies in this matter. As my deputies, you wield the authority of the Barony and must bear the same responsibility. Any abuse of this responsibility will be severely punished. You are charged with the arresting of the criminal Rander and returning him to this castle alive." He emphasized the last word. "You will each be given a Scarlet Cloak of Narwell, identifying you as official deputies. Go now, and return quickly. Each day that you delay, a villain walks free in the Baron of Lord Blaine."
The elf relaxed with an inaudible sigh. *That was unexpected,* she thought.
Gavriel took a moment to clear whatever he had been thinking from his mind, then quickly proceed to a closet, from which he procured five scarlet cloaks. As he handed one to each of the five, he asked if there were any questions, and if anything else might be needed by the party.
Jessa Wren accepted the crimson cloak wordlessly. Now this "deputy" business was more her speed. To her companions she said, "That was an unexpected answer! I'm certainly willing to be a 'deputy' if it means we can arrest Rander with the law behind us." She stood and, after removing her own cloak, donned the red garment.
Black Blade sighed in relief as she accepts the red cloak and gives O'Dywer a cock-eyed smile. "And I was so worried..." she laughed. Snapping her fingers, she turned back to the Baron.
O'Dwyer sat uncomfortably through the Baron's speech. At the finish, he stood slowly, nodded back at Black Blade, then asked to be excused. He quickly found the appropriate room where he could clean his pants, `Good thing they'rrre brrrown' he noted to himself.
Once he returned, he donned a scarlet cloak.
To BB's concern about Rander he said, "He said `alive.' He did not say conscious, unharmed, unbroken. I'm surrre he'll grrrant us a little leeway." Then to the Baron, "This Rander has some crrronies, thugs, enforrrcers. What about them?"
The Baron looked grave, "It is only Rander about whom this Court is concerned. He must be brought back so that all can see the law in action. His `cronies,' as you call them, are non-persons in my eyes. Whatever happens to them, well, I leave that up to you five."
Jessa asked, "Sir," She waited to be acknowledged. "What if we get to the point where Rander puts up resistance and gets himself killed?"
Once all were wearing the Scarlet Cloaks, Gavriel explained. "Anyone of significance in this region knows the significance of those who wear the Scarlet Cloak. Anyone who crosses you, while you upholding the law," looking at O'Dwyer as he said this, "is breaking the law and subject to your reasonable punishment. But, Rander must be brought back here for public trust to be preserved. There are five of you. Surely you can come up with a way to handle a corrupt official. "
Jessa bowed a formal farewell to the Baron. "We will apprehend the criminal, your Lordship."
The others agreed.
Lord Blaine returned to his chair behind the desk.
Gavriel led the way back though the winding corridor to his office. There, the group gathered their weapons and left the castle, the blonde elf asked them," So, where do we go now? I for one would like to return to the inn and form a plan on how we are going to apprehend Rander."
Daltonne agreed with Jessa . "Yes, now that we have our thins, let's go back to the inn and maybe we can make a plan about how to apprehend this guy. On the other hand, iffin we don't come up with anything we can jes go to his house and arrest 'im."
As the Five left the castle, they were rejoined by Jennison, who was wandering around the grounds. He approached them rather sheepishly. "Sorry about the `lost waif' approach, but there's not much excitement for one such as me. What with my `heir to the Lordship' lineage. Sometimes I like to mingle with ordinary folk."
The lad accompanied them back to the Inn of the Seventh Happiness. As they walked, Jessa asked Jennison, "Where would be a good place to gather information on finding Rander?"
"If he's the Baron's representative in the village of Lowick, then he must be staying in the vicinity. Most officials have a manor house of sorts which they reside in during their term of duty. I, myself, am in line to inherit such a house someday," he voice became wistful at the thought of this.
By 2PM, the Five had returned to the Inn.
"Too late to leave," noted O'Dwyer. "So what the plan?"
BB, once she got her hands back onto her sword, felt soooooooo much better and relaxed. Putting on the scarlet cloak (it goes so well with her black studded armor--compliments her albinism) she grinned evilly. Finally, a chance to avenge the miller. She sat in the inn with Jessa and the others, awaiting the next move, although she did promise O'Dwyer she would tell him about her sword, if he wishes...that is, before they get going for...Rander...(collective shiver.)
O'Dwyer, who originally hired him, said to Jennison, "Well, lad, I thank thee fer yer help. But I think we'll take it from here." He gives the young man a gold piece tip. "Not that you need it, but you earrrned it. Look us up if you everr get to Chatwin."
Jennison smiled sheepishly at O'Dwyer, bit the coin to check it for authenticity, grinned, said, "You never know," and departed.
O'Dwyer turned to Black Blade. "So Blackie," he chuckles at this moniker, "might as well tell me about that sworrrd of yours. Seems we have some time on our hands while we'rrre coming up with a plan of action."
She beckoned the four others closer to the fire. Laying Fear sheathed on her lap, she leaned forward, looking each of her companions straight in their eyes.
"Please don't call me 'Blackie'," she directed to O'Dywer. "My name is Black Blade...
"...Or Zantel Daemonsbane, to my friends." she remarked after a quick breath.
Jessa quirked an eyebrow at that, but remained silent.
O'Dwyer nodded, "Sorry Black Blade, Forrrgot my mannerrrs. I know a cleric named Blackie, Blackie Ryan ta be exact. Think I'll go with Black Blade fer now."
"About Fear..." she caressed the leather scabbard. "I was hired onto a quest to find twelve runeswords. However, I just so happened to stumble across a black runesword. I had no clue of its power, so I snatched it up before anyone could warn me. Little did I know, it was cursed. At least I didn't get Fear's sistersword, Death." She laughed shortly. "Now I can't go anywhere without her nearby. She also feeds bloodlust into me if she isn't drawn after a certain time. Funny," She laughed again. "I want to get rid of Fear, but then I don't. Anyway, every time I draw her, she...changes me..." she shrugged. "I don't know if it's the sword herself, but people...fear me...that's why I gave you blokes a warning back at the windmill."
She leaned back and sighed, taking a pull off her mead mug.
Her story was obviously over, for now.
Daltonne turned to BB, "Well, that's very interesting. Iffin you want to be gittin' rid that 'Fear' mayhap we could help you find someone to remove that there curse, only iffin you want of course. I have heard that there are clerics who kin do that."
O'Dwyer leaned back in reflection. "Hmm, interresting, verrry interrresting. Perrrhaps once we've dealt with this Randerrr rrrogue, we can look into the prrroblem of that blade. Must be someone in Chatwin who can help us."
The elf shrugged. "We ought to have some type of plan." Then she smirked, "Though even I am getting a bit itchy for a fight."
O'Dwyer turned to the others, "Now, are we going to make a plan, orrr are we just going to charrrrge!!!!!!" A gleam comes to his eye, he waves his empty sword arm around his head.
Then Daltonne said, "Well how are we gonna git Randar? Maybe we can go to his manor and Serena can charm 'im or put 'im to sleep or somethin'. Iffin his cronies are there I'm sure BB and I can handle a couple and iffin the others are asleep, well then that would make it a bit easier. We can't kill 'im but we can knock 'im out."
Jessa nodded. "Yes, that would make it a bit easier to get him once we're back in Lowick, but what will his reaction be when he hears that five people wearing the scarlet deputy cloaks are in town? Will he panic, thinking we've come for him?"
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