S1: E21 "Saving Mr Banks"

"The golden lad dipped his head and whispered in those ears the greatest secret he possessed. The jeweled eyes sparkled, and the seal was broken on that hard face. For as the doors swung open his lips parted, and the guardian's smile bade them pass." 

~A Tale of Fairy by Honeydew Millicent-Green

Adamant Refusal

A man has his limits. Pushed too far, he snaps. Pushed far enough and he becomes more interesting. Thomas Thompson had been pushed around. All his life someone was kicking the poor unfortunate soul. Now he was at a crossroads. There was a line too far. Unfortunately, he was sticking up for himself with all the wrong people. The next few hours were going to be very interesting.

After their little truce, Thomas and Lady Vyse had gone to the home of Lindion Mavienness at her request. Well, Lady Vyse was not requested. Lindion very much resented this woman being in her home. In the decadent and formal society of Newhaven it was very common for anyone who made a pound more then you or was regarded as a someone to be able to be hosted, doted on and given every consideration despite your personal feelings. Lindion had far too much pride. More accurately, Daverreinna was having none of it. She would in life have repelled such behavior and now was unwilling to take it from a floozy, no matter how much money she had married into. Lindion tried her best to silence the protests, but they came out anyway. Lady Vyse was of course offended. You weren't supposed to question bad behavior or any insensitivities. They were endured, like an overbearing mother-in-law until you could shirt off the burden. I personally relished the idea of Lady Vyse knocking the old hack off with poison or a knife. I would relish the mixture of hurt shock and resentment in the wrinkly lines of that woman's face. But then, as long as she was alive, mortals had to endure her tenacious existence.

After the birds smoothed out their ruffled feathers, Lindion ventured to ask Thomas the question that had brought him here in the first place. She inquired as to his relationship to Low Park, if his relationships would be ideal for starting a network of informants to feed her useful information. Thomas politely refused. It wasn't that he disliked Lindion. But this was him standing up for himself. Perhaps Thomas was embarrassed about the fact he was of low birth and did have friends and family in Low Park. He had rich friends now. He had purpose and more work than he knew what to do. Who needed an eccentric Eldren to muddy things up. Oh, Thomas. If only you knew how complicated things were about to get. I said Lindion would save his life. Perhaps it had already. But mankind always has a choice. When you throw open the window and jump clear, many more doors slam shut.

This was not to be the only adamant refusal of help Thomas was to turn down. Having been refused, Lindion graciously turned Thomas over to Father Collins. The gnomish priest asked Thomas about the bombing and his involvement in the attack on the gin house. Thomas refused to talk about anything regarding this whole situation, perhaps taking a page from Lady Vyse's book on taking offence. He wanted to put this all behind him. He had a mission, a purpose and plenty of reasons to keep his nose clean. He was on his way up. 

Realizing that pressing the issue would yield little but further alienation of the boy, Father Collins excused himself and left his friends' house. Thomas and Lady Vyse also departed, needing to prepare for the Bridgerton Party.

Refuge

Yuko was enjoying a carriage ride outside of Newhaven. The sensation of being alone in so many weeks without a guardian or a yammering lady at her elbow was intensely satisfying. They passed over the small bridge and through the town of Stonehill. The tar and smoke of the small fishing town rose up and mingled with the cool salty air as the carriage rattled past down the common roads cut through waves of tall prairie grass. This was a new sight for Yuko, and one she had not the real pleasure of soaking up until now.

There were many estates, country villas and beach houses owned by the wealthy of Newhaven. Some were elaborate, while others served as a shelter to enjoy a day or two on the seashore. The seagulls cried overhead as they swooped down or leveraged the air currents, gently gliding across the open space. A few people could be seen walking the short paths along the shores and the sandy shores. 

The carriage pulled off the main road and wound down around beneath a bluff which would have made a more cautious person nervous. But as it rounded the corner, Yuko saw a series of wooden structures behind a wall of stone and wooden fences. A footman approached. Yuko told him she was here to visit Telmage Etherington. The footman disappeared for a few moments and returned, beckoning Yuko to enter. The driver was dismissed, and she was escorted through the gates into a small paradise.

It really was unlike anything she had ever seen. The interior was a series of flat wooden platforms supported by rough stone pillars. Chairs, low wide hearths and various outbuildings were spread about in such a lazy fashion that it made the place seem quite large. There were canvas awnings stretched here and there to give it a feel of a bazaar or marketplace. But Yuko felt everything was intentional. The artwork displays of swords, nautical devices and paintings were set in such a way there was no way of turning without bumping into another bit of beauty.  The largest building was set right up against the face of the bluff. Its wide porches were broken up only by wooden pillars which had braziers set on them and seemed to be nothing but panels of wooden boards which could be opened or closed as the need arose. It gave the place a very open and spacious feel. It was spartan by comparison to the wealth of Newhaven's mansions. This was something special, removed from the world. A private paradise for one, Telmage Etherington.

The man himself came up a large flight of stairs which led down into a series of hallways and rooms. Some sleeping quarters and others storage for food and wine. This Yuko learned later, while Telmage was giving her the grand tour. Set further back in the rock was more rooms, including a library, studios and salons. Telmage was wearing a loose-fitting linen shirt opened uncomfortably wide at the neck. He wore white linen pants and was barefoot. He looked the part of a sailor, with his hair flowing freely. Yuko quite liked the look, oblivious perhaps to the unseemly nature of his appearance. Most women would have politely fainted or excused themselves as this would have been considered a state of undress. No Northerner could be considered a prude. They were less likely to feign shock at the sight of a bare-chested man or "scantily" clad woman. They had the highest of standards for social events and formal occasions. There was a sense of common respect. But they were also very practical people. However, their traditions and social norms might have stunned a well-bred man or women from the High Moors. Some might have appreciated the gravity of the situations that crossed a line. The punishment might have even been considered harsh.

I will not recount their conversation as it mostly involved such grotesque use of the Teran tongue, it would have little bearing now. Suffice to say, Yuko wished to have Telmage join her on the hunting expedition and in turn Telmage saw an opportunity to enjoy the company of Yuko at the Bridgerton party. Both accepted, naturally. They continued chattering on idly while drinking some wonderfully aged brandy and basking in the sun and the waves. It was an equally enjoyable time for both, though if I had to listen to more inane chatter, I should have strangled the butler. Which, as you know, is against the rules.

Yuko eventually pried herself away from the company of that oily man and returned to Newhaven with high hopes of sending back a positive report to the Royal House of a positive gain for peace.

A Little Burne

Father Collins returned after his meeting to talk with Burnes about his interview with Thompson. He paused outside as the sounds of a heated dispute were going on inside. Leaning down to tie his shoe he happened to better hear the conversation, he could make out the voice of Goldie. Just as he managed to straighten up, a red-faced man with white hair and mustaches barged out, nearly knocking him over as he stormed down the hall. Father Collins let himself in, trying to sound positive as Burnes ineffectually smiled and asked if he had any news. Father Collins climbed into the chair offered by Goldie and with legs dangling off the chair, he told of his interview with Thomas Thompson. It was obvious to see that this was disappointing news. Burnes then told Father Collins about the recent clash with the Whalers and the resulting death of a Constable. They manifested strange aetheric powers, remnants still lingering in the vicinity after the clash. The violence was becoming noticeable, and they needed something to stem this tide of twisted magical trinkets. Burnes encouraged Father Collins to lean on Thomas more or they might have to take a more aggressive approach. Father Collins assured him that things would work themselves out and excused himself, his mind turning towards the magical sigils scribbled down on the paper in his pocket.

S1: E20 "Party Favors"

"Souls are like cobbled roads which sway through endless moments of grief, wonder, pain and beauty. Walking these roads present many pitfalls, hidden secrets and wonderous adventures that take a lifetime to wade through." ~Unknown author

Cock and Bull

While I stroked a stray cat behind his ears, I observed the affable B. Mayflower (as is printed on his cards, which he handed out in abundance) use the various charms he possessed to ingratiate himself to the populace of Newhaven's social circles. The man spun words like golden threads, strangling his listeners with compliments, prodding them with a few subtle hints and then letting them go like a windup toy. A seasoned gentleman, Mayflower wanted to know the Bridgertons, his hosts. What he learned was that House Bridgerton was very private. But everyone knew everything about them.

Over the course of a day in gin houses, parlors and clubs, he learned much. House Bridgerton was not thought to be natives of Newhaven. Though nobody was sure where they called home, they were spread far and wide with ports in every major city. The coat of arms or specialized sigil could be seen stamped on crates, warehouses and factories which spanned several city blocks. It was seen flying on flags destined for foreign seas and on wagons carrying materials to construct yet another part of a city. But what Bridgerton was known most for was its ability to make war. Some accused them of being indiscriminate to who they sold munitions, fueling, instead of ending conflicts. They were also rumored to have had a hand in funding military academies that taught the art of warfare. An old and bitter philosopher once wrote that if Death reaped souls, Bridgerton manufactured the scythe. (A highly romantic and stirring sentiment, it was highly inaccurate. Death made his own scythe out of bone, a sickle and straps of leather.)

To be invited to a Bridgerton party was an honor indeed. Even to have received an invitation was like receiving a key to the city. Social, political and economic doors soon cracked open to those who were perceived to be someone of importance. Nobody understood the reasons why certain people were invited. But you could be sure Bridgerton had noticed. That meant you had better take notice as well.

After completing these preparatory steps, Mayflower returned home briefly to select a suitable outfit and visit his friend, Thomas Thompson.

A Bombshell

Father Collins had spent the wee hours of the morning doing what he loved best. After he was done with that, he traveled by coach to the Royal Library and was granted access to the old tomes and archaic books about magic. (It should be noted, in case the reader is confused, that he read books about magic, not books of magic. It's a small distinction in the minds of common minded men, but it is significant when you are suddenly sucked into parallel dimensions or find yourself accidently in the lair of a very hungry and very ticked off thing with far too many arms and eyes. One does not merely read books of magic unless you are a fool or have performed the proper rituals. Often both qualities help.) He had pored over the vellum pages and yellowed parchment, scribbling a few notes or sketching something for later. His primary research delved into the nature of the sigils inscribed on the relics which were being smuggled into the city. There were many stories of a strange man who appeared in dreams. The numerous accounts usually ended up in the records of doctors who served in mental hospitals. But even older accounts weaved together formed a picture of men and women who encountered this stranger in dreams, who touched their minds and illuminated their understanding of the world. But this usually resulted in their madness, and the accompanying sigils which began to appear on bones, stones and other ornaments. They all changed in small ways, performing feats usually secluded to the cadre of magicians and practitioners of the Aether. But usually, some poor fate befell the poor creatures who had been cursed in this manner. These sigils began to be associated with this mysterious traveler. 

Pulling himself away from this most stimulating study, Father Collins pocketed his notes and proceeded to his next appointment. Gnomes are naturally nocturnal, shying away from too much sun during the day and staying up all night. An odd habit for a priest, but Father Collins was required to keep somewhat normal hours. And he was scheduled to meet with his friend Lindion Mavienness for a cup of tea. He was received in the proper fashion and shown to the parlor by a very worn Philip. Father Collins engaged his host in common conversation as is normal among the high society. He slowly eased into the reason behind his visit, gauging her mood and responses as a man of the cloth is skilled in doing. 

Lindion Mavienness was, for her part, feeling self-conscious. Her thoughts on the subject were as tangled as bed hair and would require a good deal of straightening out. She was uncertain as to the nature of Arthur, who both seemed a cad and was willing to keep her good honor intact. Though Lindion did her duty and as a host initially, she soon found herself pulled from her thoughts to a happier place and cheered her as only a scholar and friend can. They did confer on the subject of Thomas, the interest of the Ministry in his activities, and his potential involvement in the smuggling operation and the bombing in Low Park. Lindion offered to introduce Father Collins to Thomas when he visited later. Thus settled on this course of action, something interesting happened that I think some might find of some use. Father Collins revealed one of the symbols he was tracking down to Lindion. Though she was unsure of its origin, it did prompt her to show Father Collins the strange knife she had been given by UNSEEN. Father Collins utilized a handy spell that reveals the supernatural. Visus Praeter is one of the first spells utilized by the Aluminat clergy gifted in such arts. Its cheating really. 

Bending over the blade, we both examined the sigils glowing in the air over the shimmering blade. I recognized them instantly but given how old they were, Father Collins did not know those sets of letters. He copied them down for Lindion who attempted to cast Lingua over the script. I suspect certain voices in her head had begun to distract her and the spell failed to go off as intended. But now armed with these sketches, she could begin the process of discovering the use and lore of these blades. I would love to tell you now, reader. But I think it would be intriguing to see just how far Lindion makes it.

Tentative Alliance

Though my narratives tend to run in a very linear fashion (even though I cannot exist in such a state) I must take you back to short moment that followed the interview with Thomas and Roald. After Thomas had left, a few pounds sterling richer, Lady Sara Vyse stepped from behind the curtain she was using to conceal her presence and sat down across from Roald. It had apparently slipped past the notice of Thomas that Roald is a man who is very well connected. Using Sara was perhaps a scoundrelly thing to do, but completely within character. Sara had, in fact been present from a distance the whole time, as she now related to Roald the events as they happened from her perspective. In short, she could verify Thomas' story. She even left out the same details as he had. Now, you might think less of her for it. But Lady Vyse had a long history around men with rubbish character. And so, she vouched for Thomas and left it at that. She could not tell if Roald believed her. The man had the face of a sphynx. But he gave a yellowed piece of paper to Lady Vyse, who quickly slid the old marriage certificate into her handbag. 

It was after this that we return to another fortuitous event. Mayflower arrived at the door of Thomas' rooms at the same moment Lady Vyse arrived. Thomas ushered them both in and watched as the two of them measured the length of one's nose. It was civil. But even the Bourgeois each other in a manner so as to put one in their place.

Mayflower of course wanted to discuss the party at the Bridgertons and relay all the things he had learned. If ever a man could not fathom how rumors start one had to merely listen to the grand tales Mayflower perpetrated. One person makes a passing comment about how he thinks the Bridgertons are underhanded and crooked because rich secretive people always have something to hide. The next man affirms that he knows someone who thinks the Bridgertons are nefarious villians and can tell the story of a person who was in their employ once and vanished. The next man in the chain relays his suspicions about the behavior of the Bridgertons because they bump off anyone who crosses them. And then Mayflower tells his two listeners about a man who betrayed the Bridgerton family and subsequently vanished without a trace, clearly showing Bridgertons to be ruthless and cutthroat. (The story of the vanishing man is actually quite hilarious, and I must tell it to you sometime.)

After confirming a few details and being introduced to Lady Vyse, an acquaintance he would further at the Bridgerton party later, Mayflower departed, leaving Lady Vyse and Thomas to talk quietly of some more sensitive business. Thomas and Lady Vyse conferred on the events of the previous evening, talking of the revelations of the Spring-Heeled Jacks, Jacqueline Parsons and the deal that would eventually be struck between her and Roald. They managed to clear up some of the confusion in that very chaotic night, and Lady Vyse thought that this would prove a most entertaining relationship if they remained partners. Adventure and trouble followed the young inventor and she found him a change from her dull life living with an overbearing mother-in-law. And so, the truce was struck, the dye cast, and the strange partnership of Thompson and Vyse sealed in the threads of Fate.

There are a few other details I could relay, but I think I shall save the conversation about the hunting excursion and the curious guest that was to be invited by Yuko, for a later time...

S1: E19 "Deal, No Deal"

The cobbled streets glistened with the grimy gas light. The clatter of wheels and the shuffling of soft soled boots receded into the background as the sun dipped down behind mountains. The day gave way to the night. Respectable men and women trailed in and out of gin houses, private parlors and intimate parties. From the top of the city down into the bowels of Newhaven, there were favors given and a drink shared. The life of this city retreated behind glowing windows, thick curtains and into the company of friends. The only life on this street was a constable walking his beat, dollymops cooing from street corners, and laborers walking to and fro from the blast of the steam whistle that cried out for the next shift.

Two figures emerged onto the street, locked arm and arm as they walked at a steady pace up the side streets, weaving this way and that towards the upper districts of Newhaven. Ed Gurunkel was puffing away happily on his pipe, the soft glow adding a cheery light to his dark eyes. Jasmine Gooding likewise was enjoying her own pipe, though she was relying less on its warmth than usual. The combined fog surrounded them in thick, fragrant tendrils, shielding them against the night as it trailed behind them and dissipated in their wake. They were near the end of a promising investigation. They had found friendship in their own kin, something that was unique and mutually shared. Jasmine had become aware of something stirring inside her which seemed terrifying and wonderful. Ed was not exactly the first person she had expected to find. He was mellow, kind and thoughtful. She had thought her life would have ended with a typical brute who she would have sired a large family for and been reduced to surviving in the harsh conditions that her kind was forced to endure. Most of her kin would have said it was her duty and to accept it. But Jasmine knew that deep down she was not entirely Ork. There was something else mixed into her blood. Maybe that was why she liked humans. It made her wonder about Ed's kin. He was so unlike other Orks. He was optimistic, idealistic in some respects and even possessed a control over his emotions she found rare in the purebloods. It was a strange Fate that had merged their paths together.

As they rounded the next bend, they cut across the narrow street and crossed into a small alley. The light was poor here, but that was no obstacle for the acute eyes of the Ork species, who had developed a keen sight even in the dark. As the hues of yellow and orange faded into shades of grey, Jasmine felt something. Some people feel the hair on the back of their neck stiffen, while others have a gut feeling. Jasmine had always trusted the buzzing in the base of her neck, that sense that something in the world had become detached. It came only a second before Ed, who had been cheerily talking and savoring his pipe, stiffened, his face twisted into a mixture of terror and anguish, and nearly doubled over. The pipe slipped from between his clenched teeth and clattered against the cobbles. Jasmine turned just in time to see a cloaked and hooded figure emerge from the shadows, her pale hand outstretched towards them. She was muttering something. A witch, Jasmine thought to herself with mounting anger and fear. Jasmine slipped her hand into her pocket and slid her brass knuckles over her fingers, readying to charge this assailant.

The woman, for Jasmine could recognize the supple figure of the female form even beneath the drab clothing, suddenly charged, her voice rising suddenly as her pale eyes focused on Ed. "Murderer!"

Jasmine interposed herself between this witch and Ed, her brass knuckles brushing the face of the attacker as she swung for her thin nose. There was a flash of steel and Jasmine felt the quick slash of a blade slice through her dress and glance off her corset. There was a crack of gunfire as Ed had managed to draw out his pistol and discharge a single shot, which slammed into the attacker’s shoulder.

Jasmine spun around, bringing her fist across in the classic haymaker. Jasmine struck low, feeling the thick leather armor absorb her blow to the woman’s gut. The woman stepped to one side; her spindly fingers outstretched towards Jasmine's head. The tips of her fingers touched Jasmine's skin, the cold icy touch of Death. Jasmine felt the wave of emotion washing over her, the burdens of a weary traveler, the long shift that never ended, the echoes of a mother in the throes of labor and a man gripping the edge of a cliff, desperately trying not to fall. Jasmine felt her limbs buckle beneath her, images and emotions spinning like a top inside her head, and all her strength trickled away like water down a drain.

As the darkness enclosed around her, there was a muffled pain somewhere at the back of her head, which now felt miles away. There was a roar and a blast from a pistol. And then nothing. A blissful silence settled over Jasmine, like a thick wool blanket. There was not a thought, sound or feeling as she was swept away in an endless abyss of sleep. Time did not matter. Space was relative and there was not a soul which could disturb her. Was this the final place of rest? Was this how her life was to end?

"Ah, a visitor."

Jasmine glanced up. At least, she felt like she was looking up. But she was lying on something solid. She picked herself up, instantly regretting it as a spider-like sensation of pain shot across the back of her head. She glanced down and saw the red, smeared across the black stones. She thought they were stones, or at least a mirror of what stones should look like. Her eyes swam as she took in the grey space, slowly shifting into focus as a sitting room began to take form and shape. Furniture and fixtures began to float into view, a wall was suddenly where there had not been a wall. Then a fireplace burst into a welcoming warm glow. As she looked around, bits of light began to sparkle overhead. Vague shadows of buildings floated past, like memories of a place she once saw.

Then she saw him. He was sitting in a chair near to the fireplace, a thin smile drawn across his narrow, pointed face. He was wearing a black three-piece suit with a ruby red rose in his lapel. His black wavy hair was combed back and shone slightly. His bright eyes peered inquisitively at Jasmine in a way that made Jasmine feel like he was looking past her, or perhaps, through her.

"Who...who are you? Where am I? Where is..." Jasmine's voice trailed off as she tried to stand and felt the pain ripple down her spine. She felt like she would throw up. She felt a hand the gentle smell of...was that roses? She looked up through squinted eyes to see the man standing over her. He reached down and took her hand.

"We have much to discuss, Miss Gooding."

Father Collins

In the wee hours of the morning

I've encountered so few men who possess such a bright and positive outlook on life while simultaneously encountering the dark things of the world with the candor and grace of a priest baptizing a newborn baby. Most of them were mad. Father Collins was not mad. In fact, he was a little too sane. This is why his visit to the Ministry was to him as common as visiting the barber or eating breakfast. When one encounters the things on the wrong side of the veil, you tend to appreciate things like breakfasting well, vacations in quiet places and comedies about demons eating children. That is, he would have enjoyed them if he ever took time to enjoy them on the way to some crisis or another. That was why he was here at the behest of Douglas Burnes. 

The two men had engaged each other's services many times over the years. One such incident involved a soldier who had encountered a vile amount of the Maleficium and had contracted a rare condition known as "having a tale". His condition worsened, despite Father Collins and Burnes actions, that eventually, the soldier, and his recently acquired tale, exploded in a burst of red mist. I think it scarred a few bystanders in that regiment. However, Father Collins made a note to explore the combustive effects of human tissue when in contact with the Aether. For scientific purposes, of course.

The dark-haired lad welcomed his old associated into his cluttered office. "Goldie" Hughes was lingering behind a pile of files and books, sulking. She nodded as Father Collins acknowledged her and sat down. Douglas Burnes explained the reason for summoning his friend here today. They had been engaged in an investigation regarding the influx of magical artifacts. They had hit a wall in their investigation. He laid out to the Father how they had been put on the trail of a man known as Thomas Thompson and Ed Gurunkul by way of a package they believed had killed the last recipient. The man's name was Leigh McNab and he'd been under suspicion for a while. They had come into some kind of arrangement and had begun searching for the package. These two had formed or been connected to others as well, including a strange detective, some upper-class socialites and others. When McNab was murdered, they began looking into Thomas and Gurunkul. He relayed the events they had observed, but again, had been unable to prove a solid motive in the execution of McNab. There was also another body in the rubble presumably in the room with McNab when he died. The body vanished the next day. 

Then there were the events of the previous night. A large group of these aforementioned people had all gone into Low Park and managed to get themselves ambushed by a group of thugs. It raised for questions than gave answers. The conspiracy seemed to have a deeper current Burnes was unable to discern. He knew Thomas was holding back information and he had an affiliation with famous, rich and low life individuals. Douglas relayed all that he knew of the events and how they had transpired, as well as the others that had been seen at the incident. Douglas Burnes asked Father Collins if he would approach Thomas Thompson, recruit him if possible, and suss out the smuggling ring.

While relating this tale, Father Collins perked up when Burnes mentioned a name. Lindion Mavienness, an associate of Thompson. Fate that Father Collins should already have a connection with someone who could help in his investigation. Promising quick results, he departed. Good old Goldie caught him in the hall and gave him a warning. She didn't trust Thompson. She felt something else was going on. And as with everything Father Collins learned in his life; he filed it away for use later. Right next to that recipe for Elderberry Pie and how to definitely not summon a demon.

Invitations and Apologies

Benedict Mayflower was picking through his mail and sipping on his morning coffee as he congratulated himself on a masterful job the previous evening. Things were looking promising. Now he only had to begin his campaign of drawing other nobles and aristocrats into his circle of influence so as to gain support for his goals of raising up Newhaven to a glorious monarchy once again. He had two promising events this week that would be his making. One was a coveted and prestigious invitation to a party hosted by the Bridgertons. "House Bridgerton would like to invite Benedict Mayflower and a guest to attend the intimate dinner party hosted at the Dupont Gardens. Arrive promptly at 6:00. Dinner will be served at 7:00."

The Bridgertons were an old family with deep ties across Faerun. Their trade was in war, and they had a monopoly on controlling interest in the manufacturing of munitions and killing engines. There were rumors about how they conducted their ruthless business dealings. But it was clearly the propaganda of jealous rivals. Their connection to the Royal Crown of Newhaven made them powerful as they supplied weapons and armor for the fighting men and women of the armies that were fighting in the North.

The other was from House Amcathra. "Festival of Good Spirits! The latest fine wines from Amcathra Brewery will be available for tastings, as well as some aged wines from the Amcathra Reserve and bottled right in Newhaven. Light refreshments served." Amcathra was equally old but had distinguished themselves as master swordsmiths and vintners of coveted wine. They stood as high members within the Splendid Order of Finesmiths and the Vintners, Brewers and Distillers Guild. They avoided the mass production industry and instead focused on quality. Their crowning achievement was forging weapons during the Great War and, legend has it, crafting one of the most excellent weapons for the Forever Empress herself. (The Legend goes that the blade composed of a rare, unbreakable metal and enchanted with ancient magic. The blade was given to the Empress on the eve of a great battle. While facing a great monster which had slain many of her soldiers, she plunged the blade into its side and snapped the blade, leaving half of it in the creature. The swordsmiths apologized profusely when they learned the sword had failed, but the Empress told them that she could not suffer more of her men to perish at the hand of his monster and so broke the blade herself so that it would continue to kill the creature long after the battle was over. The Forever Blade still sits on display in the Royal Palace to this day.)

At this point Thomas Thompson arrived, having posted his own morning mail, including an apology to Miss Mavienness and a quick word to Roald, who he would meet with later to relate his success in tracking down the Spring-heeled Jacks. Thomas and Benedict discussed the prospects of these events together, the telegram Thomas received from his friend regarding Joules Verne and some ideas for the new suit. Benedict was especially pleased when he learned that Thomas was himself acquainted with nobles, aristocrats and people of some influence. They planned to accompany each other on these various journeys and meetings.

Leaving his new friend and benefactor, Thomas then went to meet with Roald before returning to his rooms and starting his new designs. A small gin house in the boarder of Low Park/High Park boasted a scattering of patrons who were either desperate enough for a drink or retired enough to not have anything better to do. Thomas nodded to Roald's boys and seated himself across the man barely discernable in the dim light. Thomas told Roald that he had made contact with the leader of Spring-Heeled Jacks and had brokered a deal of mutual interest where they would give over their inventions and make the gang disappear. But they required a partnership. Roald thought this over and agreed, instructing Thomas to relay this information to Jacqueline Parsons. Thomas of course left out the interesting bits that involved his being kidnapped, nearly killed and the gun fight that came as a result. Roald rewarded Thomas with a good bit of coin before he retired to his rooms.

Rest, for the Weary

The superficial wounds of the previous night had begun to heal as Lindion enjoyed a few comforts of home. Her rooms were spacious, and now with her personal nurse, a proper change of clothing and other personal items, she felt somewhat more confident to face breakfast with the Belabrantes. She sat with the family, seeing the family joined together in solemn feasting. Mary was naturally curious but directed her statements and questions to herself so as to not risk losing the flow of conversation. Yuko was the only one who seemed quite unperturbed. She had come down earlier to converse with Vengarl about the short, but glorious campaign the previous night. He related all the pertinent details with the elegance of a storyteller and champion of many wars. He noted how puny the people of Newhaven were compared to the magnificent and terrifying beasts of their homeland. Even their own warriors could stand up to more than these little rabbits which ran and scurried away the moment he appeared. I will not relate all the things the spoke of, though it might be worth noting they did talk of the proposed hunting expedition. Yuko thought about asking Arthur if they could invite Telmage to accompany them. 

Their talk soon devolved into other subjects as Vengarl vanquished another plate of food and had his fill of drink. Lindion picked at her own plate politely until Arthur excused himself and she had a chance to talk with him privately. She noted that what Mary knew of the previous evening was cleverly disguised as a common mugging and left her completely innocent in it. Leaving Philip in the hall, Lindion entered Arthur's office and was fully prepared to defend herself, perhaps even level her own accusations of ungentlemanly behavior. But Arthur turned and apologized before she had a chance, effectively disarming her. With this swept out of the way, Lindion and Arthur were able to establish a new truce as they would work towards their combined goals. Arthur had influence, Yuko needed a steady feminine influence and their designs for the future could be mutually achieved. Arthur was ambitious and wished a united North and East. Lindion of course wished for the war to end, but she had social ambitions for the society, and she thought politics suited her. Women in government was not unheard of, but impressing Guild Men required some doing. Arthur was the ticket, and she had a hope for attaining these dreams. 

Parting ways, Lindion quickly collecting her things and eagerly returned to her home. Arthur occupied himself with plans for the future, uncertain just how far this new alliance would go.