S1: E9 "A Few Questions"

Club Privileges

It is a small marvel when one contemplates the invention of the postal service. It highlights a natural willingness to blindly trust. In the city of Newhaven, the telegraph system has been utilized for long distance communications, as it is still very inefficient to send a simple note a few city blocks away, as it requires a series of relay stations, runners and the main problem, a reliable and cheap energy source. Steam, the Aether and clockwork machinations has been king for time out of mind. The telegraph began as a aetheric device which could send and receive short range via a burst of aetheric energy. Then steam engines increased the range. Electrical energy had revolutionized communication, but it was costly and limited. Indeed, cost was always the primary factor. Within a city a postal agent would collect mail on his route, delivering mail and then return to pass off mail to another person. If you needed get a reply quickly, you could hire a cab or send a servant. The beauty of it was that this system relies upon manpower and has been efficient for centuries. Despite the new innovations and technological advances, the lowly postal worker kept to his route and never felt his job was ever threatened. A perfect stranger is trusted with your most confidential information, without so much as a second thought. With the exception, of course, to nosy butlers. 

This is why Lindion never gave any thought as to the manner in which her letters would be delivered or received. It was a system that worked and was reliable. She applied the postage, gave them to Philip, who noted the recipients and placed them in the box outside the front door. He noted the letter addressed to continued correspondence to Yuko Dendrar. They had exchanged a few letters. There was a letter to fellow Guildman Edward Highgale, a elderly man who Lindion had spoken of in connection to the Consortium of Hermetic Guilds. There was also a thin simple letter addressed to Reverand Simon Clarke of the Everyman Church. There was a note to Henry Handcock, the deaf pupil Lindion had grown fairly attached to as she had become like a second mother to him. Philip remembered he had been given a commission and was to be deployed on his first ship toon. There was a letter addressed to House Belabrante, in care of Arthur, the eldest son. Philip also noted, with a smile, a small note tucked into the pile in a younger hand addressed to her dear grandmother. Even without knowing the contents, Philip was touched by the simple gesture and related this to the cook later that evening.

Lindion had a full day. Leaving Isabella with Joe the groundskeeper and letting the two of them get acquainted. Their mutual love of gardening was an immediate topic of discussion and occupied much of their day. (Don't worry. Nothing else interesting would grow from this brief meeting of several hours in which two young people were left along to their own machinations. Nothing at all.) Lindion took a carriage to the local Guildhouse to visit another colleague, a Sir Elmer Wellington.  

Wellington was already in his early fifties. He had distinguished himself as a military man, a physician and hobbyist practitioner of inscription and sigil magic. Possessing only a spark of the Aether himself, Wellington used his mind to understand the theory of the Aether and test his theories as best he could with little experiments. His true passion though was fine foods and even finer books. He had a regular income and could enjoy his later years as older men who need stimulation without the excessive exertion. He rallied to a good debate, shared his love of pipe tobacco with other guild members and read at his leisure. As he was a confirmed bachelor, Wellington was not opposed to having female companions of the respectable sort accompany him to social gatherings. There had been all kinds of speculations as to why such an eligible man had remained single all these years. Wellington was in truth self-confirmed. He had seen enough of the world and was introspective to the degree he knew he was better off on his own. But he was a man and enjoyed the intellectual conversation of the fairer of the sexes when it suited him. Lindion was a both intelligent, beautiful and shared many of his own ideals as well as interests. This was enough to find him a willing participant in whatever fancy she had or idea that he put toward her. It was this very thing that drew Lindion into the small smoke-filled reading room with Wellington that day.

Their conversation circled around the idealism which was sparking dissention and revolution in the lower class. In truth, it was harmless. Where Wellington enjoyed the intellectual side of the moral quandary, Lindion was gauging his willingness to put his money where his morals sat comfortably outside of reality. These were not unfamiliar ideas either. They had been the founding ideas set forth by the Forever Empress hundreds of years before. But personal agendas, politics and the slow fade of time had muddled it with a lot of reality. But the dissention had grown so it could no longer be ignored. Lindion was not so naive to think there would not be some resistance. But she knew she needed allies if she was to bring about peaceful change. Wellington proved a typical, but useful ally.

After completing the formalities, Lindion returned home, collected her ward and set out for a momentous experience as she escorted her guest into the exclusive halls of the Royal Library. 

Considered by most to be the foremost source of collected knowledge in all of High Moor and along the Sword Coast, these hallowed halls of knowledge contain some of the oldest scrips, books, pieces of art and is in its own right, a historical landmark in the city. Constructed from the bit of the old buildings, from the bricks to the glass, each piece was taken from the palaces, fortresses and handsome estates and incorporated into a elegant chaotic structure. Each board and nail had a story worn into its surface by time, forever holding a secret long forgotten by the current curators.

The first floor catered to the general public, a repository containing art, clockwork inventions, relics of the war years and ancient manuscripts. The second story was a labyrinth of connecting hallways, reading rooms and research studies where guests who are granted access could come and flip though the sacred texts. Above that was a series of isolated room and laboratories where restoration, research and study were performed by some of the foremost experts in languages, history and archeology. The topmost level was for the exclusive use of the curators, including private studies, archives and a series of vaults protecting treasured artifacts. The old layers beneath the museum was carved from stone and marble, jokingly referred to as the catacombs. They made a home for books, documents and treasures yet to be categorized and filed away. There are rumors there is a section deep in this spidery network of rooms and passages which protects the most cherished treasures of the royal family.

Today Lindion was looking for little gems and nuggets of silver and gold tucked away in the yellowed. ragged pages of leather-bound volumes entrusted to her gentle care. These particular books were not readily available to the general public. Sylkas and Lunelis Alderwhisper were the 6th generation of protectors and defenders of the dignity of the books and the library itself. Nobody dared desecrate the sanctity of their space, the consequences were far to dire to consider. After all, every place needed its secrets. Lindion spent her day sifting through the ancient tomes. Isabella was similarly engrossed in her own book which told the tale of a hero of the great war, as he fought bravely to save his family and protect his city. The monsters were grotesque, and the felicity of the story so well portrayed that Isabella was enraptured by nearly every detail. She skipped over the long paragraphs which took up a good deal of the book which adults often include to make it more interesting.

All the Boys in the Lab

As Ed and Thomas reached the laboratory, they noted the door still barely hanging on its hinges. It was as they had left it. Well, not exactly. Filling the empty spaces and outlines of where Thomas' inventions, scrap parts and components had been, a human man was running his hands across the empty, dusty worktable, touching the remaining tools and scattered parts.  Leaning against the wall opposite was a huldafolk woman with golden hair, glaring sulkily at them. 

Morty and Boyd

Due to Thomas' precision focus in this very moment, he took all this information in instantly. The thought train in Ed's head was still slowly making its way into the station. Morty and Boyd were the strong silent types who knew how to follow instructions and keep their mouths shut. This was perhaps the reason nobody started shooting. In fact, the inclusion of the boys might have helped keep the unexpected meeting from turning ugly too quick. 

I should probably explain why the presence of the human the hulda were so important. Its because they had been here almost the whole time. They watched from behind a coffee cup, across a newspaper or in a cab. The game of knowledge was complicated and dangerous. But they knew that these two people were somehow involved in this game.

What they knew was that Thomas, a bounty hunter known around the precincts and a new face, a Roku had been seen at the murder scene, had been associated with McNab and had knowledge of some kind of package, which now had gone missing. Local constabulary reports had few clues as to the murderers or where the package had gone. But there were theories. Douglas Burnes had a few of those. "Goldie" Hughes, his partner, had a few of her own. She also was very keen on sweating the truth out of the orc and the scrawny human. She was convinced they knew something. Burnes was not so sure. But it was their only viable lead.

"Goldie" Hughes

Douglas Burnes

As Hughes thought about which finger to mangle first, Burnes quietly asked Thomas and Ed questions. Both of them were confident, unwavering and clearly put out. But Burnes had already gleaned much from the laboratory. It held so many little memories. At first, Thomas and Ed were unwilling to cooperate. But Burnes thought a peaceful exchange was still possible. They needed the objects more then to flex their muscles on these two, who Burnes theorized had just been unfortunate pawns in a larger game. Burnes had a chip to play though. Giving Thomas information about where his inventions had gone could give them a clue as to where the package went. What Thomas learned was that workers had been sent to clear out the laboratory by a female. What Burnes learned was that Thomas had been sent to find the package but learned little more than what they already knew. Except that Thomas and Ed were both liars and were hiding something. Departing with his notes he decided to bump them both up to high priority persons of interest. Anything they did they would know.

S1: S8 "Friends in New Places"

Ed's Proposition

It was opportune that I was at the Swanky Gent granting Triebold Manning relief from a particularly nasty cough. His "fits", as he had called them, had gotten steadily worse despite his protests that it was just "a head cold." As he reclined back in his chair, free from his malady as Ed Gurukul was ushered into a private smoking room down the hall from where I stood. I observed Roald as he entered, offered Ed a cigar and discussed, as Ed charmingly put it, the "menu."

A typical smoking room

I was tempted to think Ed was still under the delusion that he was fighting the injustice of an errant pastry or soddy carrot. But Ed had caught on to the undertow of conversation and had completely missed the full implications. It was difficult to say how Roald would have received Ed if he had not been intrigued by the boldness of the bounty hunter. The threads of choices were numerous, flowing out of this room and into the weave of Destiny. Ed asked Roald for assistance in helping a few friends caught up in the aftermath of his particular job, and a long-term working relationship with Roald, as he put it, "the work spoke for itself."

I contemplated choice Ed had just made, and Roald's acceptance of the terms. Ed had, in the past, chosen and idealized his work as a way to make the world a better place. Could it have been a thin veneer to justify work Ed found secretly repulsive? Or had his desire to rid the world of one more meater or had this gotten personal? It is well known orcs carry grudges almost as easily as a Dwarf. But where a dwarf is stubborn, Orcs have a deep sense of tradition and honor. After years of abuse and ill-treatment, it is no wonder the pride of an Orc has grown so much they prefer to bury the hatchet deep in the backs of their enemies. So perhaps this is what had caused Ed to see who he was striking hands within order to get at Roku. For Ed did not leave empty handed. Armed with an alliance and two knew ruffians to accompany him to the home of his elusive prey, Ed set off for the district of Low Park.

Magnificent Promises

As Ed and his new associates were making their way across town to Roku's apartment, Thomas was working up a way to turn this situation in his own favor. Thomas had little idea what would appease these men, but his foremost thought was to Miss Faraday. It was perhaps foolhardy to reveal her true identity and stress of worth. Where some would have seen a woman of brilliance and talent, they saw a comely bag of gold. Their leader, Rod, saw her as a worthwhile woman to keep alive, assuming she could enrich their own coffers. With the potential wealth shining in their eyes, Bastian, the bearman, took Miss Faraday back to her home, thus relieving one problem weighing on Thomas' mind.

Not allowing them to dwell on this idea for long, Thomas assumed the posture of a man beaten and willing to parlay. He made promises of wonderful inventions, weapons and other such things, building up the value of his own life and exchanging his talents and skills for the life of Miss Faraday and as a means of paying off the debt of their former leader. Roku was being largely unhelpful in the negotiations as the racoons collectively bled out into the carpet. Jim had done his best to patch them up, but they needed medical attention, something he could not give in adequate supply. 

It was at this point that fortune favored the group of...well, I'm not sure what to call them at this point. They were not friends, even in the loosest sense. They were however, well acquainted with each other, perhaps, more so than they had previously desired. But there are all kinds of friends. Some form bonds from love and others from hardship. Some form bonds out of necessity. So friends of necessity they were. As Thomas swallowed down the sick feeling growing in his stomach, contemplating working for the Whalers, as they called themselves, the back window suddenly imploded. In came the two men, followed by Ed.

I suppose I should introduce Morty and Boyd. They were two good boys, forged like iron in the hot heat of the street. Quick and lithe, Morty had been a cabin boy and worked the whalers along the Sword Coast. Boyd was as strong as an ox and built like a tree. He had worked as steamboy, taken his licks in the ring and was a fair hand at anything that required blunt force. Both had worked them way up into the ranks of Roald's organization, proving themselves reliable and loyal. They were Roald's boys first and looked to their own before looking out. If they had to work alongside the Whaling bomber they did. If he ordered them through a window in the Parks, killing two strangers without explanation, they did their job. Its why Morty drew out his knife and Boyd brought out his fists.

Prince was the first to go down, a large knife piercing his heart before the surprise ever left his face. Boyd and Ed attempted to take on Rod, who proved a much more nimble adversary. It was almost comical as Rod dove around Ed and Boyd, only to get tripped up by racoons laying in a pile on the floor and Thomas, who feigned to be escaping as well and somehow managed to get his cane wrapped around Rod's legs. It's doubtful Rod would have believed Thomas' charade if he had lived long enough to remember. Rod even dodged a errant bullet from Roku's now lifeless arm as Jim, having been instructed to use it, added a brand new hole to the wall. But as Rod got the door open, Morty had managed to drive his knife right up to the hilt into Rod's back. His lifeless body dropped to the floor and was drug back into the apartment.

Have you ever seen a boiler, having swollen with so much steam, that they are strained at every bolt and rivet, red hot to the eye as tiny clouds of moisture struggle from every orifice in a choir of shrieks and whistles? That is the only thing I can liken Thomas' face as he let all the frustration, embarrassment, anger and irritation boil over onto the one man who had created the current conundrum. Ed took this in the most casual way possible, pointing out the positive sides that Thomas had not considered yet. This, as you might have guessed, did not dissuade Thomas. In fact, his situation had not improved much beyond not being in immediate danger. It was all unraveling around him, and now he had a bunch of angry, incentivized men after him who wished him dead. Very, very dead. But Ed was very sure that, having helped Thomas out of his debt problem, he could help set him up again with his newfound friends.

Speaking of friends, Morty and Boyd had proven themselves again useful. In a few moments they found the black walking stick and presented it to Ed, who would have rubbed it in Roku's face a little had he not already been face deep in his own carpets. Ed instead savored the moment and left with Thomas to salvage what he could of Thomas' life work. Roku had managed to get patched up enough, but Jim insisted he be taken to a doctor and looked after properly.

The Ward

Lindion sat at breakfast having just completed her letters to Miss Faraday (a casual letter addressing domesticity) and a letter to Miss Yoku (concerning her request for a guide around the city). She assembled the staff, gave last instructions and waited as a black hansom deposited her new ward in front of her house. In she came, the youthful and inquisitive Isabella Roznar. Lindion was not expecting exactly what stood before her, her green and grey travel dress, bonnet and dark curious eyes. Philip had barely set her carpet bag down before Isabella had opened her mouth and questions spilled out like of her. At once Lindion understood the problem that was Isabella. She was a young girl who lacked the normal sensitivities naturally inclined to women. She was not intentionally rude or even malicious. She was curious and willing to a speak her mind. Lindion thought that with patience, Isabella would not only be a suitable companion for any class, but she would also be an excellent companion for her. 

Lindion gently chided the young ward about her tongue, noticing this was likely a frequent conversation for Isabella. But the girl, aside from showing great embarrassment, recovered herself and received the words better then Lindion had thought possible. But the day was early yet. After she had settled into her own rooms, talked poor Stacy's ears off (given Stacy was deaf, this worked out perfectly). This was a little obstacle as Isabella adjusted after a few minutes and set about learning what few signs Stacy could convey to her. Fascinated, teatime was filled with more questions about language, signed and spoken with Lindion.

To her credit, Isabella was not as willing to speak of herself as much. But with some coaxing, Lindion managed to learn that Isabella was a avid reader of the novella, ravished any magazine she could get her hands on and consumed a liberal amount of information from tomes in her father's library. She also enjoyed horseback riding and her small garden. She disliked cleaning, cooking or menial work.

And so the morning passed as such. Lindion settled on her designs for this young girl put in her charge. She would accompany Lindion in her normal activities and learn about the wider world.

Breakfast with the Belabrantes

Yuko had never really enjoyed the hospitality of the High Moor peoples. They ate as kings. Their food was rich, decadent and had all the niceties familiar to the upper class. It began with coffee and tea, biscuits with creamed butter, caviar or marmalade on toast and a buttery cake. It was followed by a side of bacon, fresh fish fillets and a generous looking kidney pie. 

Anatasia Dendrar

One would think that Mary would have starved given the rate she used her mouth to speak instead of ingest food. She prattled on with endless conquests of the various broken hearts she had broken. Yuko noted the unironic way it sounded like the stories of her people slaying the mythic creatures from the Forbidden Lands. As Mary went on, Yuko spoke quietly to her younger sister, Anastasia, who for her part had grown quite bored and longed for some true sport. Anatasia was smaller in stature to her elder sister but possessed a quiet, resilient spirit. It had been described by one poetic man as "constant like a river. When once you grow accustomed to its underestimate its swiftness and power." This was Yuko's sister, who longed to be rid of her formal wear, slide into her warm furs and honeyed drink a beer while listening to a song upon the mountain dulcimer. With a glance Yuko could see her sister was homesick, though she never said as much. So partially out of curiosity and partly to find some distraction for herself and her sister, she asked Arthur if they would be allowed to visit Ginny and see the famed training grounds. He reluctantly agreed though he encouraged their safety and stressed the importance of their visit to Newhaven. Accompanied by her bodyguard, she set out at once, knowing Mary and her sister would follow. Her protectors would have it no other way.

Ginny Belabrante

The stockyards were unassuming from the outside. Simple wooden buildings with double doors on either end, and twice as long in length. Inside, the smells of warm straw, steaming manure and sweat hung heavily in the air. But all these senses were washed away as Yuko entered. Rearing up before her on its hind legs was a glorious creature of such beauty and stature, all else was forgotten. Dwarfed before this magnificent creature was a woman with hair red as fire. The hair was attached to a woman with flushed cheeks, bright freckles and fire in her eyes that matched her hair. Yuko stared. For not only had she never seen the likes of the wyvern except in murals and told in stories, but Ginny Belabrante was wholly unique as well.

The air cracked as Ginny descended upon this beast, chair and whip in hand. She had become bigger, bolder and fearless before this creature who could crush her with a single breath of its nostril. But soon the beast was subdued and herded back into its cage. Belabrante was famed for its taming of the mythic beast, a tradition as well as a source of great wealth for the family. 

Ginny had a subtle boyish beauty about her. She wore a man's clothing, favoring trousers over a skirt and a loose-fitting shirt and boots. But something about her tangled hair tied into a loose bob on her head, the confident swagger of her stride and the youth in her figure, even Yuko could not help but admire her. She was made for a different time and place. Unfortunately, Ginny did not hold Yuko in the same esteem. It was apparent by her brisk speech and dismissive language. But Yuko would not be dissuaded. Using all her graces and charm, Yuko deferred to Ginny and managed to summarily disarm the woman who was not used to such flattery or grace. It quickly became clear that Yuko would have been as much at ease in a saddle and holding a long gun as she was in a corset and holding a fan. For this, Ginny hated her just a little. It is in the way women secretly hate each other while maintaining indifference to all on the outside. Ginny was no lady, in all the ways society thought counted. 

But that was a conversation for later. As Isabella settled into her new lodgings, Lindion contemplated the best way to instruct this young girl. Thomas and Ed set out for his laboratory. Roku looked to find a physician for his numerous wounds.