S1: E14 "A Vas, Matey!"

Duke Cyrus Inglemeijer squinted behind the blue tinted goggles, attempting to penetrate the yellowish pea-souper which billowed lazily across the pier. He shifted his feet on the slick wooden planks and padded his overcoat for the flintlock tucked into the custom leather holster on his belt. The Dwarf's pristine mustaches had begun to droop in the wet fog. They almost matched the grim line of his lips now. He cursed and began to pace back and forth along the gently bobbing pier, his silver capped cane clicking on the surface. A long heavy horn signaled the passage of some ship moving along the river as it ventured along the waterway into the sea. Bells chimed in the distance. The hour had grown late. "Curse the fool," the Duke spat in his native tongue.

"I had to make sure you were not followed," said a voice that scraped across the Duke's ears like a knife across a soapstone. The Duke spun, his hand going instinctively to his side in general proximity of his weapon. 

"Damn these theatrics," huffed the dwarf, his mustaches fluttering. "If I had wanted to summon a devil, I would have gone to a show at the Empress."

"Just so, your majesty." the voice replied. And as if to play into the part, a figure slowly rose out of the shadows before the Duke. The figure could not have been taller than 5 feet, weighed more than a hundred pounds. He wore a dark robe with a hood that hung around his frame like an old coat on a scarecrow. The image of this man- the way he walked, moved - and especially his voice, burned themselves into the Duke's mind like a hot iron on flesh. The man was a low sort, poor, clearly a brigand of the highest order and not worth the time it would take to pick a stone from his shoe. But if he actually knew something...

"Speak your peace, sir, so that we might not waste any more of my time," said the dwarf sourly.

"There is a crate in possession of the station master. It is addressed to your Estimableness. You will take possession of this crate and return with it to Newhaven by the next train."

The dwarf waved his hand impatiently. "Yes, yes. Pray tell, you indigenous sop, why you couldn't have relayed these instructions via telegram? Or better yet, brought this oh-so-important crate to Newhaven yourself and spared me the tedium of your acquaintance?" 

The hooded head had been staring down. It rose slowly so that the dwarf thought he saw a pale chin and a thin outline of a smile. "Nobody must know of our arrangement, your Eminence. As far as anyone knows, you have come into ownership only recently. Nobody must know how or why. Do you understand?"

"Shirumund rukhs!" The Duke exclaimed, his face flushing with rage. "The impudence of a shrouded bootlicker who orders his betters around like they were his house slaves." 

"Then consider it a request of his majesty," the figure replied calmly. "You still have the ability to refuse, of course. But do I need to remind your Kingship that if he chooses to not carry out this simple request, he will have worse things to contend with then the inconvenience of a wasted night's sleep."

"Threats don't become a lackey, my sadistic apparition," the Duke said with a defiant tilt of his chin. "You have drug me out on a miserable night in the midst of the Glitterhold to force upon me a mysterious package of unknown origin and threaten ruin upon me if I will not be a courier for a rube of the lowest form. Tell me this, sir, if it will not tax you too much, what exactly am I to bear to Newhaven that requires such urgency?" 

The figure turned and with a low laugh evaporated into the night. "The future, your majesty."

Inquiries

Thomas took his new friend and his old ally to see his friend, Richard Grier, a member of the Assembly of Autonomous Engineers, to see if they could locate the quarry known as the Spring-Heeled Jack gang. They found Richard enjoying a good book and a sizable glass of sherry. He greeted them warmly in the lounge and answered their questions. He was slightly confused as the gang's name was a moniker of an older legend. But it's clearly not important, as the group thought it was more prudent to focus on the inventor who may have supplied the gang with "supernatural" technological marvels. While Richard stole away Thomas for a bit, Sara and Roku ascended the stairs to an upper smoking room where they found a young William Croft. The small group of men were shaken from their passionate dissertation by the presence of non-members and made to protest the two interlopers out of the building. It was here that Sara demonstrated the value of a good offence by disarming all the men in the room with an innocent smile, some well-placed glances and assumed a posture which would have reduced lesser men to mumbling idiots. There is nothing which renders a man for useless (or useful, as the case may be) than needing his help. Any gentleman worth his salt would have found his honor at risk by not lending aid. But Sara had learned the art of the damsel in need of a strong man, and it was rare that she didn't have a line of them waiting on her hands and feet. 

Thus reduced, Roku and Sara were able to propose their current line of inquiry into the inventor of the marvels. They asked Croft, since Theodore Deltuge (Teddy to his friends) had been knocked unconscious by an unfortunate incident with a cricket bat. (It was not so nefarious as it might sound. Teddy was demonstrating a new tactic he had observed on the green the previous day to his friends, Walter and Herman. Teddy was in the midst of a backswing when the implement flew from his hands, bounced off the mantle, and clipped the lad across the face with a significant snap. I watched him struggle to assemble some line of thought as blood gushed from his nose. He never noticed me as he was too busy clinging desperately to life. I noted the rush of fear and anguish as he wondered if he would die stupidly by an errant cricket bat. He didn't die. But the incident left him with an unflattering scar across this nose. Though, it should be noted, the boys at the club are quite jealous of his new scar.) William did supply the detectives with a name; a dwarf technologist named Benjamin Parsons. The duo thanks the men for their help and depart for the home address of Parsons with plans to meet up with Thomas later.

Meanwhile, the recently formed partnership of Gurunkul and Gooding went to talk with a contact of Ed's. Tommie was a roaming line chef for a number of restaurants and diners. He and Ed had an understanding, and Tommie traded information for a little extra coin. And maybe a bowl of soup. On this particular day Ed was in luck. The soup was delicious. Tommie had also heard about the Spring-Heeled Jacks gang. The attacks had been occurring for weeks, as most of their targets were well-to-do and would rather not explain their presence in that particular part of town to a Constable and risk scandal. The gang had spotters watching for potential targets, report to a runner who would then inform the gang. After successfully looting their victims, the gang would return to a carriage packed several blocks away where they would deposit their ill-gotten. One of the gang's regular spotters is named Hattie. The girl was a part time dollymop and worked odd jobs when they could find them. Tommie warned Ed that she should be approached carefully as she has...management. Ed thanks him and gives him his fee. 

Jasmine and Ed then go to the corner and hail a particular cabbie. Ed also had a special relationship with an anonymous driver who was known by a special blue colored lamp on his cab. He would climb inside and pass a piece of paper to the driver. Just before they would arrive a few blocks away, the driver would slip a cigarette paper note back to him with a name, number or a few words to give him a lead. A few extra coins and Ed would leave without a word. On this particular ride, the driver passed Ed a name; Turnball. Armed with this name Ed and Jasmine make the normal rounds, buying drinks and socializing with the locals about who Turnball might be. The learn from numerous sources that Turnball is a driver. They theorize that he must be a personal coachman. Ed proposes going to see Lindion before they track down Turnball and ask him what he knows.

The Collective

The Guildhouse of the Collective is a group of bored rich people who have nothing better to do with their money than collect art and wine. They also pride themselves on never showing it to anyone. But the spectacle of showing off a Vas painting was far too tempting to deny. That was why, as Lindion, Yuko, Isabella and Anastasia were riding in a spectacular carriage towards the Guildhouse, their conversation naturally turned to one of the foremost passions of Newhaven. You might think it was art, but that was only because of the first passion, and that was its beloved Empress. The carriage clattered along the street and Yuko, unaccustomed with the normal decorum of polite conversation, launched into all she had learned about the Forever Empress, prophecies about the return of the Great Mother, the city of Newhaven and just how much others misjudged or misunderstood about her people. Perhaps she was unable to discuss such topics with others, or maybe Lindion presented a willing listener. Lindion, for her part, felt inclined to warn her of the difficulty she faced. Her very presence, much less her ideas and beliefs, presented a threat to the very culture and history of Newhaven.

Despite her warning, Yuko was still passionate about these subjects. Lindion prided herself on appearing proper and unflappable. But this was a rare moment when her "eccentricity" got the better of her. It's a well-documented phenomenon that, as the Eldren race has gotten older, they have gone completely insane. If Lindion actually heard voices or if it was merely inside her head was a question for doctors and perhaps a priest. But Lindion, in a rare display of passion told Yuko to close her mouth and stop speaking. She recovered herself and apologized, though I think everyone was quite shocked, especially Isabella, who had never witnessed a harsh word from Lindion in all her time with her. Yuko was quite used to these sorts of passions, and I think, found it humorous. I might even go so far as to speculate she liked Lindion for it. A few more words passed, and the party finally arrived at the steps of the magnificent Collective.

I so enjoy a good party. The atmosphere, the lucidity of tongue and thought, the delicate dancing about with one's words and actions; all for the advancement of one's social circle. The entered, deposited their outer garments and coats, adjusted jewelry, hair, dresses, gloves, expectations, and entered the chain of rooms. The first entryway was notable, in that it was a series of half domed room, with a portal in the far end with double doors. Around this door was a series of columns and jambs, with a lintel and a large arch. Every surface set slight behind was painted with what appeared to be a dramatic retelling of the history of Newhaven following the Great Devastation and its rise to prominence and power in the new age. A beautiful fairytale.

As drinks were procured and pleasant company was being sought out, Telmage Bertram Etherington, secured the arms of the young ladies and their wards like a crab grabbing at helpless fish. Telmage was intrigued by Yuko, but as they talked, she secured his attention. The woman not what he had expected from the North where furry barbarians feasted upon whale fat and spoke in a rough tongue. She was delicate, sophisticated and shared a love for art that few ever really attained. He guided them towards the Vas which was displayed prominently in the center of the room. He explained that the Vas was slowly disappearing, a strange chemical phenomenon eating away at the paint and canvas, one layer at a time. That was why the original showing was cancelled until now. They estimated that it would disappear one year from today. Yuko found this intriguing because there had been a prophecy about the return of the Great Mother. All the charts, stories and teaching pointing to the event coming very soon.

Telmage also shared that the Vas had been acquired by Duke Inglemeijer and set up for public display.

As they become engrossed in each other's company, Lindion managed to unravel herself from Telmage and take the young girls with her to view the rest of the Collective gallery. She spoke to Isabella an interesting bit of insight. “You have now seen the depth and height of what life can offer. It’s your choice to rise or fall, remember whatever you do, you carry a great name with you.” I record it here in case it every comes back to haunt anyone. 

And thus, the party split, Telmage tactfully expounding on the various bits of arts and antiquities that the Collective had procured and making introductions to strategic friends and allies. While she made these new acquaintances, Yuko scanned the faces of each person there, hoping that perhaps the great artist Vas was hiding in plain sight among the other guests. A romantic thought, but one that proved fruitless to the eyes of the young ambassador. Meanwhile, Lindion took the two girls in a opposite direction and explored the quieter halls and galleries as she explained each piece to the young ladies.

I watched them enjoy the party, each in their own way. But my attention was broken by a unfortunate soul coughing on an olive. It was a shame it was not Telmage, for I would have willingly watched him die.