S1: E15 "A Fair Shot"

Mrs Jack-queline Parsons

I now must return momentarily to the club where Thomas had been waylaid by his friend, Richard Grier. Thomas was questioned as to his welfare, for Richard had by chance ventured to the laboratory of his friend only to find it full of dust and a few empty crates. Alarmed, Richard had promised himself to ask Thomas at the first possible opportunity. Thomas passed this occurrence off casually, weaving a story that made the whole situation seem trivial, while concealing the unfortunate events that had placed him in the current situation. Richard, thus having his concerns for his friend assuaged, he took Thomas into his confidence and told him of the recent rumor that had been flying about the guilds. While Thomas was aware of the general rumor about some unknown inventor promising to bring about some new marvel in electrical engineering, Thomas had chalked it up to his former partner, Mashell Faraday. But Richard told Thomas that it was in fact a new inventor based in Redsmith. He had learned from his contacts that this inventor was like Thomas and preferred a level of anonymity. He would divine his name soon enough and pass it along to Thomas. Richard supposed that someone with such care and cunning might make for an advantageous ally. In fact, Richard received a telegram which he passed on to his friend that very evening which revealed the identity of the inventor.

Thomas left his friend still mildly curious, but not so much that it distracted him from his current objective. He met with Roku at the home of Benjamin and Jacqueline Parsons to interview the inventor who they knew to understand and perhaps have built such technology as the Spring-Heeled Jacks used to commit their crimes. 

Our trio of investigators were ushered into the fashionable home by a beleaguered beastman butler; a basset hound named Olivier. They were informed Mr. Parsons was out, but they would see the lady of the house instead. Soon Mrs. Parsons entered, a younger woman who looked comfortable in her matrimonial role as a hostess and entertainer. Nothing about them seemed to bother or startle her at all. Roku, lacking the decorum of a true middle class, and started by outright insinuating Benjamin Parsons was involved criminally with the Spring-Heeled Jacks. Mrs. Parsons denies any such involvement and asks if the detective has proof of such claims. Thomas suggests that he has access to a police report which implicates Mr. Parsons of involvement. He claims one of the gang members was captured and confessed. It is this statement that could bring ruin upon the Parsons house. Mrs. Parsons told the two men that she wished to avoid any hint of scandal and would make it worth their while if they could produce the report and the witness, though she did doubt her husband was involved. This would surely result in his fall from good society. As they stand, Mrs. Parsons addresses her butler to have Turnball, her driver, to bring her carriage around.

Ah, Turnball. The elusive Orc that Gurunkul and Gooding so diligently sought out. Ironic how the wanted culprit was in the grasp of some of his associates and they unknowingly turned away thinking they had gained a solution to the problem of the Spring-Heeled Jacks. But Roku and Thomas left, with thoughts of blackmail, fabricating a police report and collecting their "fee." 

The Achilles Duke

Personally, I found the tour of the Collective to be exhilarating. So many stories trapped behind glass and ropes, small minds contemplating the mysteries of a prior age. Pompous seed-pickers gazing at some fabric, glue and scribbles while hoping to expound on its nature in a way another mouth-breather has never seen the world before. Damned fools. But I know the secrets of these items. Take, for instance, the beautifully preserved mandolin. It belonged to a bard of some prominence in Newhaven. The Smiling Guest was a particularly malicious moniker that earned the Bard a place in the lore of High Moor. In fact, he is credited with writing the drinking song "The Duel of King Antonio" and the ballad "The Astral Lane" which were acquired by the Collective some years ago. The latter was so controversial in its time that the Aluminat Church had it banned, making it a coveted item by any eccentric collector. To many in was a fantasy song about a bard who traveled the lanes of a world outside of our own, battling evils and overcoming great obstacles in search of something called "the King of Dreams" and ask him a question. Nobody knows why exactly the church forbid the song, but it was forbidden, making it even more famous.

"The Noble Savage" by Lightfeather

There were paintings of a particular nature that they will be relevant here. There was a small oil painting done by an artist that had an infatuation with the subject of the artwork and crafted it as a passion then for personal gain. The oil carefully depicted a woman with black and red feathers who stood atop a golden dome, looking out over the glistening sea. It is rumored to have been purchased by the Empress herself and kept in a private collection. The artist died in anonymity, but his work remains famous in the Collective.  Another painting of equal great
ness is a gigantic painting of a muscular woman, wearing rough clothing of furs and leather. Her tall stature is only outmatched by her dark green hair and glowing sun-burnt skin. One cannot help but admire the proud, smirking face as she stands atop what one can only assume is a pile of corpses, a double-headed ax over her shoulder. She was rumored to have a staggering number of demon scalps from the time before the Great Devastation. She actually had more than the 500 that has been credited her. She was never good with math. She knew she had many, some of which were displayed on her belt and one she wore as a hat. She said she liked the horns. 

I noted many more items of interest. There was the hefty tome with the intricate binding and embossed golden cover. Many had admired the craftsmanship without ever reading it. If they only knew what the ledgers inside contained, they would go mad. For it was one of the few magical books left from before the great war. Some astute observers might have noticed a few new entries on the last pages. But nobody bothered to look.

By now the young woman came down the hall, oblivious to my presence there. Their eyes passed over the flamboyant wide-brimmed hat with the feather which had seen better days. Lindion lingered over the set of blueprints of a small inn and tavern which was displayed as "a common example of such places of business from more primitive times." A charming description, for the Trollskull Manor and Inn was anything but common.

Lindion spent the better part of their time explaining the history and lore surrounding the bits and pieces of an older time, as best she knew it. As the young women tried to behave themselves and absorb what they could, Lindion attempted to direct people's eyes to the woman, calling out their best attributes and most positive traits. She succeeded. She was not so successful in engaging the upper class in the discussion of the elevating the lower classes. This was in part because the upper class was not concerned with elevating the common sheep into the fold of the shepherds. It was an academic question for politicians and a topic for the pious to discuss over tea when they needed to feel particularly sanctimonious. She did manage to start a rumor about an unnamed royal who was aspiring to gain a high seat in the Newhaven Council.

I spied the contemptuous form of Telmage in search of Lindion and the two young ladies. Lindion managed to avoid him for a time, until it was impossible not to acknowledge his presence. He found them among the paintings and felt compelled to share his unsolicited opinion on their nature, design and voice, as it spoke to him. He came to himself long enough to draw the trio back into his social circles to meet Duke Inglemeijer. They returned as the Duke and Yuko spoke together. The Duke was in good form this evening, brooding and casting his condescension upon everything that was taller than he. However the Duke attempted to get a rise out of Yuko or unseat her with some biting remark, she remained unflappable. Perhaps the Duke would have been able to create a flush or vague twittering if he had not been distracted by certain events in his life. Personally, I found him rather annoying and not very intimidating. But I should know, a good reputation proceeds you and does most of the work in the end. It is not what you can do, but what people THINK you can do that really sells the bit. 

As Lindion approached the Duke set his eyes upon her and their battle of words commenced. I suppose Lindion would have gained the pyrrhic victory had the voices which so often plagued her apprehended her better judgement, her unwavering self-control and pushed it off a cliff. Daverreinna instantly disliked the arrogant fool and attempted to mock the man who had gained her lowest of opinions by mimicking him in a dramatic and comical fashion. If you are curious how this must have looked, her impersonation, however contrived, was not at all a good likeness to the dwarf aristocrat. Various onlookers thought her drunk, others thought it a gag that was so common at parties, while others considered it mildly amusing. The snickering caught the keen ear of the Duke he turned his baleful eye upon Lindion who, perhaps under the influence of Daverreinna, was left unintimidated by the man. Lindion recovered herself long enough to sincerely apologize. I think it would be fair to say the Duke was begrudgingly impressed. She had not only withstood his remarks, remained unscathed by what some would consider a social scandal, she had recovered marvelously from it. Whatever the Duke thought of these two women, they possessed stuff beyond the normal stuffed shirts and quelled corsets. They had character.

Telmage, who had waffled back and forth between deciding if he was man enough to wear pants or if he should don a frock, rallied in time to offer his carriage to the woman and escort them home. Yuko was amused by the scene that had unfolded in front of her. Anastasia was disappointed nobody had proffered swords to resolve the conflict. Isabella, who was thoroughly dumbfounded by her guardian, followed along behind quietly. Lindion beat a hasty retreat, her fan covering more of her face then normal, retreated into the safety of the waiting carriage, eager to return home.

As glasses ran dry and bodies began to feel the weight of the hour, two courtiers carefully picked up the Vas painting and returned it to its special room, placing it under lock and key. As the two men left, one thought he saw a bit of paint drop from the canvas and crumble into ash. He had a stray thought about time and then closed the door.