S1: E27 "Conversations with my Therapist"

Home at Last

The currents of fog began to burn away as first hues of sunlight crept over the horizon, revealing the lamplighters as they skirted across the cobbled streets snuffing out the lamps before their masters awoke to enjoy the newspaper and a cup of coffee. Their faces glistened like the cobble; the yellow light reflected in their moist, dirt-streaked faces.

As the lower districts hummed with that perpetual life that greased the gears and polished the bronze while the upper districts slowly got to work, busying themselves with the work of the day. Lindion had watched the passing sights from her carriage with a distant expression on her face. This dominant presence of Tryloxal was no doubt weighing on her mind. But she was reluctant to seek help. Finally arriving at her home, Lindion entered, soothing the worries of her house staff who had heard the news and were perplexed and worried for their mistress. Once instructed, Lindion prepared a sleeping draft and sent a message via Joe the gardener, summoning Father Collins to her house immediately.

Father Collins had completed his work at the party, finding little else of significance. Pocketing some shortbread in a napkin, he returned home. He was just in time to receive Lindion's note. He went to her home immediately. 

He was once greeted by Lindion herself and ushered into the sitting room. They discussed the events of the evening. Lindion didn't waste much time asking Father Collins to perform a small function on her behalf. She wanted him to examine her and the blade, which she presented to him, for any signs of magic. When he found no obvious signs of spells of magic, he turned his attention to the assassin's blade. The weapon showed no signs of enchantment but did appear to Father Collins gnomish eyes as a superior and complex weapon. Lindion then insisted Father Collins take the weapon with him and do with it as he saw fit. 

Thus, concluding her business, Lindion fell into an exhausted sleep. The sleeping draft she had prepared worked even better then she hoped, and she found herself deep in sleep. She awoke some time later to the announcement of Dr Psmith. 

Dr Psmith had spent the early hours looking into the Bridgerton's and rumors surrounding them. He found a great many things, but nothing very definitive. The newspapers and gossip rags all speculated on the nature of the attack, the thefts and leveraged all kinds of suppositions. But as this appeared to be a series of unfortunate events without a simple solution, Dr Psmith had concluded his research and ventured to the house of his latest patient, Lindion Mavienness. The good doctor discussed the events with Lindion as well, telling her that she was seen taking the knife by witnesses. She told him that she no longer possessed it and assured him it was taken care of. Dr Psmith was more than a little excited to continue his examination and unravel the Eldren eccentricities, perhaps even rendering a solution to coping or dealing with them.

Complications

Yuko was startled by the arrival of Arthur Belebrante. He had had the worst of times getting past the Constables, servants and a particularly bulldog of a newspaper boy. Yuko was anxious to know what had occurred and to talk of the future. The attack by the assassin boded of something far sinister. Implicating the Royal family seemed a most reckless thing to do, arrogant and dangerous. Such words could easily undo all the work they had done. Yuko was determined to find the people involved in this attack as she was thoroughly convinced it was by the hand of Newhavenite. But Arthur was not so convinced. Yuko's actions to form a peace treaty with Newhaven could be seen as a traitorous act by the less sympathetic of her clans. The bad blood that had been shed would have been swept under the carpet and forgotten. The North was not so stable in its rule as many would have liked to think. Perhaps one of those clans had thought it better to resolve their feuds with blood instead of pen and ink. Their conversation proved only that they knew little. Arthur thought it best to retire for the night and think on this once they had rested. Yuko handed Arthur a letter for her brother and a letter for the Lorieth family. Arthur took both and promised to post them. But his concern was evident. This bold action could be stymied or aggravated. Everyone was watching now, for better or worse.

S1: E26 "Bless Me, Father"

"A Blessing, Father."

"The blessing of the Heavenly Host be upon you. The Voices of Ordo, Veritas, Decus, Justitia, Fides, Liberalitas, Spiritus, and Caritas guide, illuminate, and protect you."

~A common blessing of the Aluminat. 

Chastisement

I have observed that the sharpest rebukes come from the meekest hands. Vengarl, the protector and veteran of enough wars to warrant him a trusted position in the current administration, experienced a kind of rebuke he was unaccustomed to receiving. Yuko had returned to the Belebrante estate in the early hours of the morning on the heels of the news of the attack. Vengarl was berating the soldiers, though the blame lay squarely with him, and he knew it. He had let Yuko talk him into letting her go alone. And this oversight had nearly caused her death. He was readying his men to storm the imperial palace, when Yuko copped him across the mouth. There was a stunned moment of silence as everyone waited to see what would happen. Vengarl was never more startled in his life. Grumbling and rubbing his stinging cheek, he retreated to lick his wounded pride. Yuko likewise retreated into Arthur's study. Jinny led the way, pouring out a stiff one for her and Yuko while the ambassador related the events of the evening. Jinny was a stout girl and had seen the brutal side of life and death. Despite her crusty demeanor, she was a woman, and thus betrayed by her more sentimental emotions. She was acutely aware that any person would have been set back by the onset of such betrayal and closeness of death. Jinny downed the last of her drink, barred the door to the study and secured every entrance and exit to the house. She then took up her over-under, 12 bore shotgun, sliding a cartridge into each barrel and then sat down outside the door of the office. It is worth nothing the beauty of the weapon in question. I can appreciate any weapon which so effectively renders life inert. The stock was a Briar black walnut, adorned with bronze plates which had a rather dramatic picture depicting a young girl taking aim at a dragon. The design and addition of delicate filigree made the weapon elegant. The sights and trigger apparatus were tipped in bronze, contrasted by the black steel of the barrels. A worthy weapon for a woman of killing skill. Jinny once told a fellow hunter who had smugly commented on her ability to shoot a rifle, that "the quality of a gun was only measured against the quality of the shooter." She proceeded to bag two bucks, a flock of geese and his begrudging respect.

Taking pen and paper, Yuko wrote a quick note that she hoped to send with Arthur to Genevieve Lorieth, in hopes her friend could shed some light on the meaning of the events the prior evening. She wrote:

    Greetings Lady Lorieth,
    To keep it brief, I request an audience to discuss the events at the party which occurred at the Bridgerton Residence. There was an attempt on my life. It is in fact what started the commotion. The would-be assassin had cast it as a gift from the Royal family. I pray that you could see to it to meet me as soon as possible.

    Respectfully,
        Ambassador Dendrar

Vengarl knocked upon the door of the office the required amount of times (if a friend had not gained access to the house, Yuko would know by the number and rapidity of knocks). He entered, sullen and beaten like a bad dog that has been reprimanded by his master. Vengarl was many things; loyal, trustworthy and honest. But he was not one to take slights or abuse lightly. Yuko had gained some courage, liquid and emotional, and thought it best to set out who was in change and remind Vengarl that this was a diplomatic mission. A future of two nations and peace hung in the balance. They would go forward cautiously; guards would be kept at a respectful distance, and they would continue to endear themselves to the citizens of Newhaven. Vengarl tried reason and lost against the superior wit of his mistress. So Vengarl retreated to his quarters and composed a message which was sent by the earliest post via a diplomatic messenger. 

Maven's Secret

It would have been an enjoyable moment, finding you were home alone in bed and everything that you thought had happened was just a bad dream. But when you open your eyes, you realize something is very wrong. This is not your room, these are definitely not your nighties, and you have no idea how you got here. This was exactly the situation Lindion had found herself. The ramifications were such that after some very quick thinking, she felt mildly horrified. 

No. She did not want to think of it. It was far too terrible to consider the how's of her current situation. She was making up her mind what to do next when a friendly face entered. Maven was human, pale with dark brunette hair and a thin wiry frame. Maven was a social planner and had secured her position in high society as a capable woman who, despite her inability to speak, used this to her advantage. What she could hear, she could never speak. Many people made the mistake of thinking her deaf too. Maven knew almost everyone in the upper echelons of Newhaven and beyond. Her organization skills, vendor and social connections, as well as her demure manners made her non-threatening. Except when it suited her. Maven had survived the orphanage, fought off her bullies and stood tall. It was useful for Maven to use what she knew sometimes. Well, at least, what people thought she knew. Paranoia is rampant among those who are already plagued with their own fears, harboring secrets and walking a thin line of acceptable and unacceptable behavior. Maven had learned the fine art of insinuation and implication, letting others fill in the blanks and so that they thought it had been their own idea. Maven then carried out "their" wishes. She knew her place, and theirs, and used her social skills to help save her clients potential embarrassment and advance her own position in kind. 

Maven and Lindion had been friends for many years, having met when Maven was still new in her role as a social event planner. They had grown close, despite their difference in status. But Maven knew in Lindion was a true friend and ally. It was why, when she had seen her friend collapse in the midst of a ballroom, she had taken matters into her own hands. Well, at least, almost completely. Arthur had seen Lindion faint as well. He rendered his assistance and carried his guest to a spare room and managed to get a doctor to be summoned. Maven was instrumental in this part, as well as reading Lindion for bed and to protecting her from what Maven considered scandal. As Maven was undressing Lindion, she found a knife of such unusual make and design, she feared that Lindion had been caught up in something unsavory. Maven was also aware of the burglary and placement of precious stones on the guests that evening. Maven was well aware that was not the surprise the Bridgerton's had prepared for their guests. Lindion also had a gem on her person as well. A police constable would not be as sympathetic as Maven, and so Maven hid the items in a nearby nightstand. 

A flurry of hand signs followed as Lindion caught sight her good friend. Maven could not conceal the concern on her face. They only had a few moments to reconstruct the events that led Lindion to find herself in this state of affairs before Maven told her that Aunt Genevieve wished to speak to her. Upon request, Maven helped her friend assemble her messy hair and dress in something more appropriate. Then her aunt was ushered into the room.

Seating herself on the edge of the bed, Aunt Genevieve took her neices hand. There are few women that look so composed in the presence of such chaos. Some might have captured the irony of the scene; a goddess of a woman, sweeping into view, her party dress sparkling and not a care in the world upon her face, reminiscent of the stories of Fairie and motherly fey. Lindion felt somewhat childish in the presence of her aunt. With a gentle smile, her aunt began to ask Lindion about the events of the evening. Lindion confessed she had no memory of the events that transpired from the time of the case exploded and the moment she awoke in this room. Her auntie retraced the events of the evening, asking her careful questions about what had happened. Lindion was of course confused at first, as the questions seemed leading. But the meaning become plain soon enough: her aunt was attempting to establish a set of events that would satisfy the police in their investigation and absolve her niece from any wrongdoing. Combined with the efforts of her reluctant acquaintance Duke Inglemejier, the police would look no further unless Lindion herself gave them cause for concern. 

Aunt Genevieve assured her niece that she would talk with the constables and ensure her own interview later would be as painless as possible. Lindion confided in her aunt that her symptoms coincided with times when her eccentricities overwhelmed her judgement and senses. Her aunt was intrigued and inquired further as to how these voices behave, if they possessed personality or had other attributes. Having satisfied her curiosity, and giving more assurances, her aunt left with Lindion practically begging for a more personal moment once she had recovered. Her aunt made no promises. 

Maven then brought in a specialist that the Bridgerton's had employed to ensure their guests had not suffered anything unsettling or serious in nature. Maven ushered in a gnomish man.

Doctor Gnathan Kneal-Psmith. A nocturnal man who had made his livelihood by learning the delicate art of dealing with the battywats, insane and those who were afflicted by malignant spirits. Polite people called him an Alienist. Skeptics called him a head-hunter or a charlatan. But unfortunately for his less agreeable fans, Doctor Psmith was brilliant. He was proficient in three schools of Aetheric studies, was devout in his faith in the Aluminat church, had a degree in psychology, theology and possessed a working knowledge of criminology. But what Doctor Psmith was known for was his ability to carry the most pleasant conversations. There was a fine art of comforting and listening that Doctor Psmith had gleaned over the last decade. It offset his rather...diminutive and not very inspiring presence. But as Lady Gilden had once said of him, "he grew in your estimation the longer he talked."

Doctor Psmith had not inspired confidence in Lindion as he approached, exchanged the proper greetings and attended to her. Lindion was not accustomed to having men see her in such a state nor be so familiar as Doctor Psmith was upon greeting her. He was not of her class, nor possessed the proper manners of a man of her standing. But as their conversation continued, Doctor Psmith did something that was hard to do with Lindion; he made an impression. Doctor Psmith soothed her and queried her for answers as to her symptoms. Aside from a slight headache, she was merely suffering from loss of memories. Doctor Psmith asked if he could help her remember. She acquiesced. Closing his eyes and focusing, he muttered a few ancient words, he attempted to see the events that had happened around Lindion. He saw shapes, almost impressions, of the people, places and things. Like the impressionism in art rather then the realists of a few decades ago. He is able to piece together what she did, telling her about the knife and the diamond, but there is little to no reason to justify her actions. Doctor Psmith persuades Lindion to let him talk with the constables and vouch for her. He would tell them that she cannot do any interviews until tomorrow.

Once Doctor Psmith related the details and gave his professional, and persuasive, opinion to the constables, Maven helped Lindion to get dressed and helped her quietly exit down a backstair and out to her waiting carriage. Before Lindion left, she slipped Maven the jewel and told her to take care of it. 

Power and Money

Mayflower and Thomas had remained in the ballroom, attentive to whatever news their ears might pick up. It just so happened that when it was their turn, Mayflower chose to exert his privilege and exchange some money for information. One of the constables approached and asked to search each person. Thomas had not yet learned the fine art of getting what you want and submitted to the search. Mayflower objected quite sternly, proffering a few coins in his hand as an incentive. The constable pocketed the money, taking Thomas diamond and reporting there was nothing else. Mayflower pushed his luck and asked the constable the details of the case. He shared what he knew that some items had been stolen and a man had attempted to kill the ambassador from the north. There was no reason, he assumed, the two things were linked.

Gleaning what they could and having been released, both men departed. But fate had another surprise for them this evening. As they made for the front doors agents Burnes and Hughes entered, accompanied by Father Collins. He was the only person who looked like he was fully alert. Thomas made a desperate attempt to not be seen, but Mayflower, who did not know the relationship here, stopped Father Collins and asked for a blessing. This ritual might be unfamiliar to you, dear reader. It was customary to ask a priest for spiritual boon. Many considered this nothing more than the equivalent to saying hello when greeting a friend. But the pious saw it as an actual bestowal of grace from the heavenly host. Father Collins saw Thomas looking for all the world like a man who wished he was invisible. Father Collins tried to be civil, but Thomas did not reciprocate. As Thomas managed to pull Mayflower away, despite Father Collins attempt to fulfil the request and Mayflower's protests that his behavior was very rude. 

They might have managed to escape if Goldie had not grabbed Thomas' sleeve and spun him around. For someone so diminutive, Goldie Hughes had a way of forcing people to look her in the eye. One cannot blame her for feeling particularly sour this morning. She had been been drug out of bed with only a few hours of sleep, had to suck up to the swell, and with maleficent tokens corrupting the populace and now a possible international incident which might spur on renewed hatred and warfare, she had a good reason to be grumpy. Short of clocking Thomas across the face she did make it very clear he was walking on thin ice, and that if he knew what was good for him, he'd start cooperating before they had to take off the metaphorical gloves. Releasing him, she stormed into the ballroom leaving her partner and everyone else shifting uncomfortably. 

Retreating to the carriage, Mayflower dispatched a telegram via courier to rouse his compatriots in crimefighting to start looking into the assassination. They would need a private investigator for this...

S1: E25 "Flames in the Distance"

The Fight

The quality of assassins has really declined in recent years. There was a kind of art to taking a life, a pride in one's work. You prepared to infiltrate a party, prepared a costume even, and struck your target with a precision that took years to perfect. By inserting a blade, drop of poison or administering a firm bit of pressure you could render your target dead in an instant. You developed a kind of signature that others could recognize. 

I could recognize this assassins work. He had a certain panache I could appreciate. He took his time, like a predator teasing his prey. He relished the look in their eyes as they realized the betrayal, the life slipping out of their eyes and spreading out beneath them on the floor. But he lacked originality, relying on the same old tricks he always used. A great masquerade. A bit on the nose, all things considered. And despite all his preparation, careful navigation of a dance floor, an assault on the pitiful rubbish he left behind the couch named Telmage, he still missed.

To be fair, Yuko dodged. I do not think she actually realized what was happening as the assassin lunged at her with his blade again. Northerners frequently spar, preferring brute strength and martial skill over all else. In fact, there is a cult dedicated to the art of weaving magic and brawn together into an elegant performance which is aesthetically pleasing as it is deadly. But that doesn't help us understand how someone like Yuko could have survived. Sometimes the Fates weave our lives in strange ways. But my money is on an overconfident assassin who thinks he's made an easy mark and doesn't descend with maximum effort. Or perhaps he wasn't meant to actually kill her.

As Yuko screamed and panic spread, our Mayflower drew his weapon and fired. Well, he drew out the
electric pistol that Thomas had given him and attempted to fire. Mayflower knew precious little about mechanical devices, and thus failed to notice that the weapon was completely depleted of energy. If they had only had a few power cells on them, the weapon would have performed stupendously. With a huff he drew out his Flintlock. Raymond Lamb chose at this moment to leap upon the assassin. It was an awkward exchange. I don't know if you've ever witnessed two people mistakenly attempt to hug, change to a handshake and then settle on rubbing knuckles together. Or of you have seen two people attempt to move around each other only to choose the same path, adjust and then attempt to counter, mirroring each other for what feels like minutes. Take all of that and make it more violent, and you have a good idea of the exchange Lamb and the assassin had. This did give Yuko enough time to flee to the safety of Lindion who she spotted entering the ballroom. The assassin attempted to strike Yuko down as she fled, but Thomas drew his cane sword and stepped between him and his prey, locking blades with the man. As Yuko reached Lindion, the protector drew out a small derringer from her pinned up hair and fired, managed to miss everything. 

Mayflower had drawn his flintlock and stuck the assassin, somehow not killing the man as the slug knocked him back on his heels. Lamb, raised his own cane, whispered something and the assassin blade flew from his hand and towards the cane. Lamb raised the cane, causing the blade to arch through the air and land on the floor far away from its owner. Thomas, being a reasonable man and a gentleman, chose at this moment to encourage the assassin to surrender. The assassin laughed and darted away through the crowd.

Yuko had somehow found herself in the grossly protective arms of the *sigh* real Telmage. The pair made good their escape from the ball. Lindion attempted to summon Arthur as she went in search of the assassin's blade. Mayflower and Thomas pursued the assassin as he pushed and jostled his way down the back stairs to an exterior door. Mayflower and Thomas had closed on him where a sword prick would have been most lethal, when the man turned and extended his outs out in a splayed manner. Flames leaped from his fingers and engulfed the stairs in an aetheric blaze. Thomas managed to get out of the way of the incoming flames, but Mayflower leapt deftly over the inferno, fringed but able to land his cutting blow with precision. The assassin recovered remarkably, bowed and vanished into the gloom of the back garden hedge. Mayflower crept carefully outside but thought better of pursuing a man who had demonstrated a surprising abundance of tenacity and made it his profession to hide in plain sight before murdering you. 

As Thomas and Mayflower returned to the ball room, Lindion had recovered the knife where it lay undisturbed on the floor. Hiding it in her dress, he tried to find Arthur. She located him near the door where he was arguing with the servant who had barricaded the doors and refused to let anyone leave. As sounded the charge of the Constabulary who had come to the rescue, Lindion fainted.