Part 1 – Edge of Anarchy

Prologue

The view from atop the ramshackle dwellings of Old Korvosa, even under the dim light of the moon, is a vast improvement over what the streets provide. From here, I can peer out over the bay, feel the sea breeze upon my skin, and taste the salt of the sea. All of these I’ve known my whole life, and though the harbor sits only steps from where I stand, I have no access to it, and for that my heart aches.

Not long ago, a few months perhaps — it’s hard to keep track while trying to survive the streets of Korvosa — my father’s ship was caught in a sudden and terrible storm in Conqueror’s Bay. My sister Yelena and I were sent below decks while my father and his crew fought to keep the ship afloat. By the time it was over, nearly half the crew and all of the goods were lost, my father included. The remaining crew, who believed us to be cursed by Baba Yaga and thus the cause of the storm, sailed into the port of Korvosa and left my sister and me to fend for ourselves.

A heavy sigh escapes my lips. I long for the sea, but first I must find my sister. A few weeks ago she went missing, kidnapped I’m sure. The local authority has proven unhelpful for though they sympathize with my plight, they apparently have more important things to worry about.

I turn away from the view, and peer into the dim surroundings. Roped up lean-tos creak under the strain of a light breeze while rope ladders, long poles and other such equipment span the gaps from house to house. Such is life in Bridgefront, the overcrowded shantytown of Old Korvosa. When space ran out on the streets below, the poor and destitute began constructing an entirely new part of the town on top. The locals call it the Shingles.

The Shingles are not without additional dangers, of course. Lurking in the shadows are dangerous characters and creatures of the night like imps and chokers. As much as I enjoy the view from here, I tend to stay away as much as as I can. On this night, though, I find myself in need of one of those dark creatures.

The imp’s name is something unpronouncible in all but the devils’ tongue, but he’s easily identified by his orange-hued skin and stump of a tail. Apparently he had an unpleasant run-in with a guard about a month ago, the details of which I can’t bother to remember, but the result of which was a shortened tail. it didn’t seem to dampen his attitude, though.

The clattering of pots and pans somewhere to my right followed by the angry cry of a woman warns me of the imp’s impending arrival. I begin to whisper a spell to unleash a blast of frost at the creature should he decide to attack even as I turn to locate him. Unsurprisingly, I find the foul creature twirling and spinning his way toward me, not bothering to stop and apologize to anyone he disrupts along the way.

He pauses for a moment and scans about until he spots me. “Ah, my lady,” he says with a bow, “there you are.”

I let the spell fizzle as he somersaults towards and settles in one the edge of the rooftop, hopping from foot to foot, seemingly oblivious to how close he is to plummeting over the side.

“I’ve had the most terrible time,” he begins to bemoan, but I cut him short with a gesture.

“Do you have the information?” I ask.

He nods enthusiastically before a devious smirk forms upon his lips. He reaches out with one hand, two of the stubby fingertips rubbing together.

“Do you have the money?” he asks in kind.

I shake a gold piece loose from within the folds of my blue fur robe and let a gold coin fall into my hand. I hold it up. He reaches for it greedily, but I snatch it away causing him to pout.

“But you promised,” he says with a whimper and a forced tear. I feel no pang of guilt.

“In exchange for the information, yes,” I say. “What can you tell me?”

His eyes remain transfixed on the coin as his tongue plays upon his lips. I clear my throat to grab his attention.

He blinks a few times and shakes his head as though his thoughts had suddenly drifted. “Yes, what? What were you talking about?” He stops moving for a moment as though to ponder something, then resumes his jittery movements. “Oh, right, you seek the girl. Of course. How forgetful of me.”

I wait a moment as he lets the words hang in the air, but my patience soon reaches its limit. “Yes, and?”

“Oh,” he says. “Yes.” He pauses and looks around, apparently checking for eavesdroppers though I can hardly imagine anyone here much caring about what he has to say. Seemingly satisfied, he leans in close. “She’s with Gaedren,” he says.

I stare at him, waiting for more, but he just leans back with a haughty smile plastered upon his bearded face.

“Yes,” I say. “I already know about Gaedren.”

In truth, I’d learned about Gaedren weeks ago. He apparently likes to abduct small children and turn them into little criminals he calls his “Little Lamms”. I suspect my sister, who only recently turned seven, is among them, and can only imagine how scared she must be. She’s been through a lot in such a short time.

Our mother died giving birth to her. The locals blamed it on me. They blamed everything on me. These days, I begin to wonder if they were right.

“You do?” The words squeak out from the imp’s throat, and he looks longingly at the coin as though it were about to slip from his grasp.

“Yes.” I begin to put the coin away.

“Wait,” he says, reaching out for it. I pull away. He hops back and forth from one leg to the next almost manically, then something seems to dawn on him. “Oh, I remember.” He stops hopping and leans in with a conspiratorial wink. “I’ve seen her.”

I lean forward suddenly and stare hard into his eyes. He shrinks back slightly, startled by my reaction. “You’ve seen her?”

“Well,” he says with a shrug. “Not me, per se, but someone I know.”

My eyes narrow with suspicion, but this is the closest I’ve gotten so far to my sister. I pull the gold coin back out and dangle it before his eyes. “Where?” I ask.

“In the markets,” he says. “With the other children.”

My brows crease together. “The markets? Which markets?”

He points to the south in the direction of the western docks. I crane my neck to see where, and in that moment he snags the coin and leaps away, cackling gleefully. I spare a moment to consider chasing him, but think better of it. After all, he gave me what I asked for. He’d seen her, or someone had, in the markets of the Midland district. He could be lying, of course, but this is the closest I’ve gotten yet to finding my sister.

I smile for the first time in days, then quickly scamper down a nearby rope ladder and walk crisply in the direction of Midland. It’s a long walk to that part of the city, but I feel as though I could walk all night. Soon, I’ll be reunited with my sister. Then we can get a boat out of this gods-forsaken city and find somewhere better to live.

Chapter 1 – A Blossom of Hope

It’s been a year since that night in the Shingles, and I am no closer to finding my sister. There’ve been rumors of course, people who claim to have seen her, but always they lead to disappointment. Either the rumors come to me too late or they are outright lies. Despair has begun to set in.

I’ve taken up residence in a tenement flat in Garrison Hill on Endrin Isle which offers some protection against the destitution of nearby wards while still providing a pleasant view of the harbor. A local fish monger has taken me on to work his boats during the mornings, and in the afternoons I spend my time in vain search of Yelena. It seems every time I begin to lose hope, some new rumor or lead appears to prop me back up only to then smack me down even lower once more.

And so, it is with trepidation and perhaps a little bit of hope, that I find myself today with a new lead. This one, though, came to me in a most unusual manner. After my morning work, I discovered a Harrow card titled The Empty Throne attached to my father’s compass with a note on the back. How it got there, I couldn’t begin to comprehend.

With cautious optimism I return home for food and some rest. Perhaps tonight’s the night, I think to myself as I lay my head upon the pillow. When I awaken, the sun has dipped almost to the horizon. I spring out of bed and gather my things before heading back out into the streets. I’ve never heard of Lancey Street, but I know harrowers tend to live in the Midland district, so I make my way to the Gold Market, a place I’ve frequented many times in search of Yelena, and ask for directions. As the last rays of sunlight disappear I come to the street and set eyes on the fortune-telling shop.

Standing outside the front door are a half-elf in some heavy armor, a shield strapped to her back and a spear in her hand. The shield bears the emblem of Iomedae, suggesting she is a devoted paladin, as many of her followers are. Beside her is a hulking half-orc with a greatsword and breastplate. She has no religious markings, but does appear more than capable of handling herself. They are speaking to one another as I approach. I offer a quick nod of greeting, but as neither of them are likely to be a harrower, I slip past them and through the door.

Inside I discover a cozy chamber filled with the fragrant haze of flowers and strong spice emanating from wall-mounted incense burners that resemble butterfly-winged elves. I briefly wonder if the owner has an affinity for Desna, my own deity. I have found few followers of Desna in Korvosa since my arrival.

Draped upon the walls are brocaded tapestries showing a black-skulled beast juggling men’s hearts, a pair of angels dancing atop a snow-blasted mountain, and a tall hooded figure shrouded in mist, a flaming sword held in one skeletal hand. I can’t begin to fathom what any of the symbology might represent, but I assume it must have something to do with harrowing. Brightly colored rugs cover the floor, and a single wooden table adorned with a bright red throwcloth sits in the middle of the room surrounded by several elegant tall-backed chairs. A basket covered by a blue cloth sits under the table, and a small piece of paper lies atop.

A roguish-looking man with shifty eyes is bent over next to the table as if he were about to take a peek inside the basket. I let my eyes pass suspiciously over him, then turn my gaze to the other occupant, a halfling decked out in white robes with the markings of Gozreh. He has the scent of the sea about him, and I wonder if he might be a sailor.

I’m about to ask if anyone knows what’s going on or if either of them know who sent out the invitation when the two women from outside walk in. They too take in the room as though they’ve never seen it.

“Hello,” says the half-elf. “I’m Emrisil Sorira.”

Her manner is calming and I feel a sense of ease wash over me, though a tangle of knots remains within my gut.

“Hello, friend,” I say. “My name is Iduna Agnarrsdotter.” Emrisil takes my hand in greeting.

The next to pipe up is the rogue.

“There seems to be a note here,” he says.

The rest of us turn to see. He’s holding a piece of paper from which he reads aloud.

Afterwards, we all exchange glances and shrugs then pull out the basket, take our seats and begin to enjoy a small meal while making introductions.

The halfling is Saban Stonefoot, and as I suspected works out of the west docks as a sailor. The half-orc is a barbarian named Barub Basher with a tenuous grip upon her anger. She works at the docks, though I can’t say I recognize her. The roguish fellow is Zeph Blackthorn and claims to be a cook with an eye towards magic. He seems shady, and I make a mental note to keep a close eye on my possessions whilst he’s about.

Each of us received a different Harrow card, but with the same note upon the back. I make a note of who received which. Each of us have been wronged by Gaedren Lamm in our own ways. Both Zeph and Emrisil were once his lamms, but neither seems willing to share the horrors they endured during that time. The expressions upon their faces at recalling it makes my heart ache for Yelena even more. Saban’s brother was killed by Gaedren, and Barub’s mother was falsely accused for another murder and remains incarcerated to this day.

A short time later, a middle-aged woman with long, tawny brown hair appears seemingly out of nowhere in the doorway. She smiles at us then takes a seat in the last of the chairs and begins to speak.

“Thank you for coming, my friends, and for putting up with my unconventional method of contacting you.” She produces her Harrow deck, and somehow I realize the card I’d been given is now returned to the deck. “My name is Zellara Esmeranda, and I have reason to remain hidden, you see — a terrible man would see great harm done to me if he knew I was reaching out for help.

“This is a man you know, for he has done something terrible to each of you as well. I speak, of course, of Gaedren Lamm, a man whose cruelty and capacity to destroy the lives of those he touches are matched only by his gift for avoiding reprisal. You see, a year ago, his thieves stole this from me.” She indicates her Harrow deck. “It’s important to me as an heirloom passed down through a dozen generations, not to mention my sole means of support. When it was stolen, my son, Eran, tracked down the pickpockets, retrieved the deck and returned it to me.”

Her eyes turn sad, a tear beginning to form, but she collects herself before it can release.

“The thieves were in the employ of Gaedren Lamm,” she continues, “and in return for finding them, Gaedren murdered my son.” Looks of sympathy and nods of understanding pass throughout the room. “I sought help from the Guard, but they turned me away, and so I asked around. I paid bribes. I consulted my Harrow. At last, I was rewarded…I found out where Gaedren dwells. He can be found in an old fishery north of here at Westpier 17, where he trains his abducted children to be pickpockets and counts his stolen treasure.

My eyes light up, and my heart begins to pound. Could it be? Could I, at long lost, have the answer I’ve been seeking? Maybe, I think to myself, but after so many months of heartache, do I dare allow myself to hope?

Her words stir me from my thoughts as she continues. “And now, I need your help. I cannot hope to face this man on my own, and the Guard moves so slowly that if I were to go to them, Gaedren would certainly know of their coming well in advance. Even if they did arrest him, what guarantee would I have he’d be punished? This criminal has evaded the law for decades.”

She looks around the room, taking a moment to gaze into each of our eyes one at a time.

“But you know of these frustrations as well, for I can see it in your eyes, and hear it on the streets.” She smiles, a bit sadly I think, and offers a shrug. “So there we are. It’s time for him to pay.”

Caught up in the emotion, we let out a collective “huzzah!” and prepare to charge out the door, but she stops us before we go saying she wants to perform a Harrowing. We gather around the table, and she asks each of us to first choose a card. I draw the Eclipse, Barub the Winged Serpent, Emrisil the Liar, Zeph the Beating, and Saban the Owl. She then reshuffles them, draws nine more cards, lays them out on the table, and offers interpretations.

We each take a few moments to take in what we’ve heard. Zeph asks if she will help fund our incursion into Gaedren’s warehouse, but she shakes her head ruefully. “Would that I could, my young friend, but it has cost me nearly every copper to get this information.”

Our moods more solemn now, we rise from our seats and prepare to leave. I take Zellara’s hand with a firm grip and thank her for the information and the opportunity. She smiles at me, and says, “taking down Gaedren will be all the gratitude I need.”

I return her smile and follow the others out the door into the evening air.

Chapter 2 – Something Fishy This Way Rots

Outside, we pause in the chill evening air to discuss whether to make our way to the fishery now or wait until morning. I feel a sense of urgency and irritation at any possible delay, but I try not to let my emotions show.

“I prefer to go tonight if we can. He has my sister, and I fear if he relocates before morning I may miss my chance to rescue her.”

No one else seems in any hurry, but neither do they have any reason to delay, so we make our way a few blocks north toward the West Dock which resides upon the western shore of the Jeggare River. Across the river sits East Shore where most of the nobles and the town’s military resides. High Bridge to the south connects East Shore to the main part of Korvosa, but I’ve only seen either from the river.

Upon reaching our destination we find a dilapidated and creaking building jutting out over the water supported by wooden pilings. A drooping signpost with no sign hangs above a set of weathered double doors. Along the right side of the building clings a boardwalk barely held together by rotten barnacle-ridden pilings. On the left is a much wider loading dock that, while in as poor condition as everything else, appears a safer option than the boardwalk.

“Fresh hot dumplings,” a voice from the street behind us draws our attention. “Get your fresh hot dumplings here!”

We turn to see a scrawny street merchant walking toward us with a platter of…some kind of slurry I can only assume is what he considers dumplings. I recall seeing the merchant on many occassions during my time as a sailor. I wasn’t interested in trying the dumplings then either, but at least one of my companions proves less discerning.

“I’ll try one,” Barub calls out eagerly.

The merchant puts on one of those smiles that can only mean “ha, I’ve got you now” and shambles over to us. He asks for a couple of copper pieces, which Barub readily hands over, and he slops some of the slurry into her hand. Just seeing it on her hand is enough to make me gag, so I turn away to avoid seeing her gulp it down. Hearing it proves almost as bad.

“Anyone else?” says the merchant. I can imagine his leering eyes, but still can’t bring myself to turn back around.

“No thank you, sir,” Emrisil says politely. No one else comments, and I hear the merchant shuffle away.

“You there,” another voice calls to us. I’ve heard his voice before. It’s the half-orc merchant of an eye patch store who wears one of his own products. The fishers I sail with always joke about how he only wears it to entice customers.

I ignore the sounds of conversation behind me as a vague memory attempts to crawl to the surface of my thoughts. Some weeks ago, I recall the fishers talking about one of their own having been killed by a devilfish. They’d pointed out his place, and I think this might be it. It’s no wonder someone like Gaedren would use it as his hideaway. Korvosa has a habit of letting abandoned buildings sit for quite some time before finding a new occupant. Any number of thieves, cutthroats and other miscreants can use such locations at their whim almost without repercussion.

Almost.

I turn back around to face my new companions. Barub seems eager to check out the eye patch store and the others are debating about it. With some impatience, I place my hands on my hips.

“We can check out the shop later,” I say. “Gaedren may not be as willing to wait.”

Barub looks at me and ponders for a moment, then nods in agreement.

After a brief discussion, we decide the front door might not be the best approach, so we try the loading dock instead. There is another set of double doors leading into the building from the dock area in addition to a creaky-looking set of stairs leading down to a single door and the lower level.

Saban decides to take a look at the lower door. His small stature allows him to descend the stairs without much fear of collapse. He tries the handle and gives a listen at the door before returning.

“The door’s locked, but I heard some coughing inside,” he says. “Sounded like it could be a child.”

My heart flutters as images of Yelena huddled in the darkness and shivering fill my mind.

“I say we try that door first then,” I say. “There could be children inside, including Yelena.”

Barub and Emrisil want to use the double doors here, but their suspicious glances at the stairs tells me its more about concern for the stairs collapsing beneath their more considerable weight than any strategic sense. Ultimately, we all agree the lower door is best.

Zeph pulls out a set of thieves’ tools and says, “allow me.” He descends the stairs with almost as much grace as the halfling and attempts to pick the lock. After a few moments we hear something snap and a dark look crosses the rogue’s face. He retreats back up the stairs with a defeated look.

“I’ll open it,” Barub says and makes her way carefully down the stairs. She looks the door up and down then slams her shoulder into it once, then once again. The door cracks and falls inward, Barub following in behind it. The rest of us scramble to join her.

Inside, the floor is slick with seaweed and fish blood, and the air reeks of both. A wooden staircase to the right leads up to a door to the upper level. A second staircase in the left corner on the opposite wall leads to a catwalk with two more doors along the right-hand wall. A large vat filled with a foul-looking mixture of chum and seawater reminds me a little too much of the “dock dumpling”. Surrounding an open bay in the middle of the floor are a number of hammocks, each filled with ratty blankets and dirty pillows. A dozen or more bleary-eyed children caked with mud, guts and dirt startle at our entrance, sitting up in surprise.

“Yelena?” I try to speak, but the word catches in my throat.

Emrisil steps forward, her hands up and the patting the air in a soothing gesture. “Take it easy, children. We’re here to help.”

Unblinking eyes stare back at her helplessly until the rogue Zeph steps forward, producing trail rations and offering them to the children. His guesture warms my heart and makes me think I was perhaps too hard on him with my initial assessment. The children rush to him to grab a share.

“Yelena?” I say again, this time forcing the word out.

One child looks at me, wobbling slightly on his or her feet. They are so caked in grime it’s impossible to tell one from another, much less determine gender.

“Uh oh,” the child says.

I kneel down before them and take them by the shoulder. “What is it, child?” There’s a hint of desperation in my voice.

“Elena?”

Close enough. “Yes, Yelena. Do you know her? Where is she?”

“She was taken to Mr. Lamm for punishment,” she says, then leans in and adds with a whisper, “they took her to the underneath.”

Before I can ask what that means, one of the upstairs doors, the one closest to our point of entry, bursts open. A depraved-looking half-orc stands in the doorway, tittering and staring at us with malevolent eyes.

“Giggles,” the children murmer and scurry into the corner.

Zeph deftly flings two daggers at the man, one just missing and embedding into the wall, but the other stings his shoulder. Giggles responds by lurching down the stairs and taking a swing at Emrisil with his flail, smacking her hard in the chest. I position myself between Giggles and the children and summon forth a lance of cold energy that smacks Giggles in the face. He produces a satisfying scream of pain.

Barub moves to the side of the steps and takes a swing at giggles. I can’t tell from my position if the strike hits. Saban rushes up the second staircase to the catwalk above, but stops short as a second door opens and a another man appears. This one is a bitter-looking human with a handsomely decorated red tunic that would almost look regal if it weren’t two decades out of style. I wonder briefly if this might be Gaedren himself.

“What’s going on?” the man sneers, then with eyes blazing as he scans the room, he adds, “children, attack them!”

The children don’t respond, but he takes out a wand, points it at me and utters a magical incantation. A glob of acid shoots out of the tip and hits the floor at my feet, sizzling against the wood. Giggles, holding his face, attempts to flee back up the stairs, but Emrisil takes advantage of his desperation and cuts him down with her sword.

I summon another lance of cold energy, this time aiming for the man with the wand. Another hit, but this one mostly glances off his shoulder. Saban runs up to the man while Barub lumbers up the stairs after him. Saban gets in one solid punch then the man tries his wand again, but it fails to activate. He sneers at it, then retreats backward. Saban closes the door and uses a peg to secure it.

With no immediate danger, we pause and take stock of the situation. Emrisil bandages Giggles to prevent him from dying. I sense from her a similar predilection for maintaining life, though I find myself not feeling terribly charitable this night.

Barub opens the door we came through and lets the children out. “Go, children,” she says.

As they leave, one turns back and says, “My name’s Nibbles Crumblecake,” they say. “If you ever need help, come find us at the Scrapper Hall Orphanage.”

Chapter 3 – The Fall of Gaedren Lamm

“We should question this one when he wakes,” Emrisil says after the children disappear into the night. I look at Giggles dubiously, considering the best way to secure him. A quick search of the room produces rope from the hammocks and several pulleys lying on the floor. Using skills I learned aboard my father’s boat, I rig up a net and leave him dangling over the vat.

Proud of my accomplishment, but concerned about the time it took, I pause only a moment to admire it before suggesting we continue on. Saban leads the way, opening the secured door. The two of us head through to the room beyond first. It proves to be a small office of some kind with a desk and cabinet. I peer at the floor and notice the desk was recently moved.

“He went that way,” I say, pointing at the door behind the desk. There’s a second door I’m pretty sure leads to the boardwalk on the south side of the building.

No one seems to be in much of a hurry though, and Emrisil takes a moment to examine the desk. She finds a slate filled with transaction records, and happens to notice a trap door in the floor. We shove the desk aside and examine it. Underneath is an intricate pulley system made up to function as a dumbwaiter. The opening is far too narrow to fit through, and Saban offers a firm “No” when we all look questioningly at him.

We hear a bark from beyond the door, and Saban moves quickly to open it.

“Kill, Bloo, Kill!” cries the man with the wand. The grizzled creature rushes up to Saban and bites at him, tearing a hole in one sleeve and leading behind a gash streaked with blood.

Zeph rushes up beside Saban and tries to stab with his daggers through the doorway, but the space is too narrow to land any strike. Emrisil pulls Saban out of the way and tries to push through the dog, but in her rush smacks into the door jamb instead.

The man tries his wand again, and again it fizzles. Saban, somewhat recovered from the dog’s initial attack, nimbly rushes past Emrisil and smacks the dog twice, knocking it to the ground where it lies still. I move into the room behind him and try to hit the man with another blast of cold, but miss. Barub takes the opportunity to rush in and with a might slash of her greatsword she finishes the man off. Unfortunately, a bomb of some kind falls from the man’s other hand and rolls to the middle of the floor before exploding. I manage to avoid the worst of the blast, but both Saban and Barub are less fortunate.

While they shake off the effects, the others join us. There’s another desk, a pile of ratty furs that likely served as the dog’s bed, and another door. Zeph searches the man’s body and discovers two sets of keys, a garnet amulet, and a pouch of gold coins in addition to the wand. I take the wand, and we quickly divy up the coins, then Barub moves to open the next door.

Beyond is a room that somehow smells worse then the room below. I step away from the door to avoid the smell.

“Hello, Yargin. Two chum chuckers reporting for duty,” a voice says from within, the words trailing off as they realise we aren’t who they thought we were. So the man with the wand was Yargin, not Gaedren.

Barub confidently strides into the room. “Where’s Gaedren?” I hear her ask.

“So, you want to know where Gaedren is, do you?” The voice sounds strange floating in from the other room, but in what way I can’t quite put my finger on. I hear Barub shout in surprise, but it’s Saban who reacts to it first.

He rushes through the door, and yells, “it’s a halfling!”

Zeph and Emrisil rush to their aid. I hear the sounds of clinking metal indicative of battle, and the voice of a scared child calling for help. I step into the room. Next to a large wooden trough filled with rotting fish and brine my four companions are embroiled in combat with what appears to be a child but on second look I can see is actually a halfling.

An actual child huddles near a door to the outside, trying desperately to avoid being struck by the fray. I rush to their side, unbolt the door and swing it open. The child rushes out and quickly disappears. A moment later, the battle comes to an end. Zeph has taken some damage, but otherwise the halfling thug appears to have taken the worst of it. Barub is fiddling with something….a wig I realize in surprise before averting my eyes to offer some modesty.

Zeph busies himself searching the halfling’s body. He finds another key, a kukri, and a disguise kit. Barub’s eyes light up upon seeing the kit. I take the key and try it on the cabinet with success. Inside are two pouches of coins. We grab them and stash them in a backpack for sorting later.

We pass through the dog’s room and through a door on the opposite that leads to a room with two beds and not much else. Then we return to the office and use a second key on the cabinet there. It proves to hold some paperwork and scrolls, additional evidence to be used against Gaedren. We remember Giggles, and return to search his pockets, uncovering some coins and 2 potions of healing. He remains unconscious, so we leave him for now.

Back in the office, we check the door leading out onto the narrow boardwalk. The planks are weather-beaten and creaky so Saban takes one end of a rope and makes his way carefully down to the far end before tying it off. Zeph and I follow, stepping carefully to avoid breaking any planks. Emrisil begins to make her way, but her bulkier size proves too much for the boardwalk, and she splashes into the water below, sinking to her neck.

We call down to her, but she seems no worse for wear and points out some wooden pilings underneath the fishery that could be the “underneath” the child mentioned earlier. A splash in the water draws our attention to a large and hungry-looking shark taking a run at Emrisil. Fortunately, the creatures first attempt misses the paladin, but it looks prepared to make another attempt.

Zeph leaps into a small boat and begins paddling toward Emrisil, but the shark takes a bite at him as well, and he clambers back up onto the boardwalk. Barub calls for us to untie the rope on our end, which I quickly see to, then she tosses it down to Emrisil. Emrisil grabs it and begins to climb, but the shark manages to sink its teeth into one of her legs.

I blast at the shark with a lance of cold energy, just missing, and the shark loses interest as Emrisil climbs farther up and out of harm’s way. I look up to see Emrisil taking one of the newly acquired healing potions out of her backpack and swallowing it down as Saban, climbing back and forth nimbly across the board, resecures the rope. Emrisil and Barub are then able to make their way down safely.

An ancient barge resides at the end of the dock. The name Kraken’s Folly is painted on the side, and I think the name somewhat apt as the ship clearly hasn’t been seaworthy in many years. Indeed, it seems now to be a permanent part of the adjoining structure.

We make our way carefully onto the rotten deck where we find a door leading into the aft cabin. I open it to reveal a dark room. Emrisil lights a torch then hands it to Saban who decides to take the lead. The moment he steps inside, a large, brown spider leaps out from the shadows and attaches itself to his face. He punches the spider, utterly destroying it, but stumbles a bit. He’s clearly been poisoned.

I take the torch from him, and take the lead alongside Emrisil. Thick sheets of cobwebs and mounds of moldy cushions adorn the room below. Emrisil takes one step off the stairs before four more of the spiders leap to attack. Zeph somersaults his way past me and behind one of the spiders. It might have been a more impressive maneuver had he struck flesh on his attack, but instead he gets only webbing.

Barub joins us and tosses a flask of acid on the spiders, killing two of them. I use the wand to remove another, then Barub finishes off the last after it proved too squirrelly for Emrisil and Zeph. Looking around, we see no additional spiders, but there are a number of barrels and crates adorned with the image of a red fish on the side, indicative perhaps of Gaedren’s fishery business.

Barub opens one of the crates to discover nothing but dirt inside. We’re about to leave when I notice a faint set of tracks leading to a spot on the wall behind some barrels. We check it out and discover a hidden door. Beyond the door is a wooden walkway floating on the surface of the river and leading to a door on the far side that presumably opens into the “underneath” Emrisil noticed earlier.

We step carefully onto the walkway, Saban taking the lead, followed by Emrisil, myself, Zeph and lastly Barub. With Saban about halfway across, the shark reappears and takes a run at him. Zeph swiftly moves to the other end of the walkway to inspect the door.

“It’s locked,” Zeph calls out.

I hit the shark with a glob of acid, but it doesn’t appear to have much affect. Saban retreats out of the way, just as the shark takes a massive bite out of the walkway. It doesn’t appear bothered by the taste of rotten wood. Emrisil swipes her sword at the creature, but misses. Zeph hits with a dagger, tearing a small slice into the shark’s tough hide.

“I’m coming,” Barub yells out as she rushes past the shark and to the door. She tries to slam it open but the door proves more stubborn than it looks. I put away the wand and send a magical ray of frost at the shark, freezing its nose slightly. The shark retaliates by taking another bite out of Emrisil who collapses in pain.

Barub roars in frustration and lashes out at the shark. Her swing his mighty and proves a more than decisive blow as she cuts the shark’s head clean off. Zeph, carefully avoiding Barub’s line of sight pulls out a set of tools and quickly picks the lock on the door. He opens the door, and I faintly hear the sound of an old man speaking from within.

“You! I know you! I should have fed you to Gobblegut when you showed up snot-nosed on my doorstep.”

Zeph seems to ignore and instead turns back to shout out, “she’s here! Yelena’s here!”

My eyes go wide, but for a moment I’m torn between rushing in and helping Emrisil, who is now lying unconscious on the walkway and is slowly sliding into the water. If she falls in, she could die, and I can’t let that happen, so I rush over and pull her back before feeding her my own potion of healing.

Saban crosses the walkway and moves into the room ahead of Zeph. I hear what can only be Gaedren saying something to him, but the words are lost beneath the sound of rushing water. I help Emrisil back to her feet as she shakes off any lingering effects, and we follow Barub through the door.

“I know you,” Gaedren says as Barub enters the room. “Your death is long overdue.” I hear the twang of a crossbow and a particularly deep-throated roar of anger. I assume it must be Barub.

“How did you find me,” I hear Gaedren say, though I can’t tell who to.

Saban responds, “you smell like fish.” I chuckle in spite of myself.

Emrisil and I move in. I see a gaunt, old man full of vile standing at the other of the room. Saban has moved up next to him with Zeph on the other side. Hanging from the ceiling above is my sister. My heart leaps.

“Yelena,” I cry out, but I’m too distracted. An alligator surges out of the water from below Yelena and chomps down on my. I fall to the floor, dazed.

The rest of the fight is a blur, but I hear old man Gaedren threaten to kill us all and some splashing as Barub tangles with the alligator. At last, Gaedren makes an attempt to flee by diving into the water, but Emrisil slices him in half, and the two parts of his corpse splash into the water then just float there, oozing blood.

Zeph comes over to me and gives me the last of the healing potions. Reinvigorated, I quickly set about freeing Yelena and we embrace, though she seems distant, like she almost doesn’t recognize me. I try not to think too much about it, and while I attend to her wounds, the others search the room and a small adjoining room. They produce several items of interest.

Among the treasure is also a ledger containing all of Gaedren’s criminal activities. Barub takes this thinking it will help free her mother from prison. Also found within Gaedren’s study is a hat box that curiously holds Zellara’s head and harrow deck.

“She appears to have been dead for several weeks,” Emrisil says. Barub takes the harrow deck, and Emrisil tucks the hat box with Zellara’s head inside under her arm.

Chapter 4 – Flames Across Korvosa

We leave the fishery with thoughts of returning to Zellara’s, thinking perhaps there was some mistake or that she has a twin, but soon discover smoke rising from the streets and fires blazing across rooftops. People are fleeing in terror and the echoes of not infrequent explosions rip through the air. Hippogriff riders soar toward the castle, but one is felled amid the chaos.

A crowd of people march down the street, their voices raised in near synchrony, “The king is dead! Long live the queen!”

Another crowd, more distant, yells out, “death to the queen!”

We all look at each other, uncertain what to make of it.

“Just how long were we in there?” Zeph asks.

The half-orc eye patch merchant calls to us from his shop across the street. “King Eodred is dead. Queen Ileosa now rules.”

Before we can respond, the merchant closes a gate to ward his shop from the madness of the streets.

“Come on,” I say, hugging Yelena tight to my side. “Let’s get to Zellara’s and regroup.”

The others nod in agreement, and we set off. Along the way we find a confused looking nobleman. We stop to talk to him.

“What’s happened?” Saban asks.

“The king is dead,” he says. “Died of a disease even Asmodeus’s disciples couldn’t cure. Queen Ileosa has taken charge, and the seneschal has vanished.”

A group of smiths wielding hammers passes by. One of them pauses, and asks, “do you hail the queen?”

Saban looks at the man dead in the eyes and says, “we hail who you hail.”

A look of confusion crosses the man’s face before he seems to determine the answer good enough, and yells, “hail to the queen!” before marching off to join his friends.

The nobleman managed to slip away during the brief encounter so we continue on, ducking into narrow streets and alleyways to avoid the larger and more audacious crowds. Along one street we are accosted by a drunken lunatic who runs up and presses his face uncomfortably close to mine.

“You…you appeared to me in a dream, you did,” he says. I can smell the booze upon his breath. He then grabs me, and says, “You’re going to usher in doom.”

I do my best to pull away, making sure to keep myself between him and Yelena, but am unable to shake free of his grasp. Barub has no such difficulty as she lifts the man off his feet with one hulking arm and deposits him on his rump, positioning herself between him and me.

“The doom of Groetus is upon you all,” he says, shaking a finger at us. He then scrambles to his feet and dashes off the way he came.

At last, we make it to Zellara’s house. The only problem is what just a few hours ago was a pristine and beautiful fortune-telling shop is now a dusty and forlorn building, abandoned for weeks. The furniture has been shattered and left strewn about, and a layer of dust tells us this was no recent thing.

“Great,” says Zeph. “What do we do now?”

Suddenly, the harrow deck in Barub’s pocket begins to pulsate. She takes it out, and the cards leap from her hand to hover in a circle above our heads. Zellara manifests within the circle, this time as a shimmering apparation rather than a full-bodied person.

“My friends,” she says, “I apologize for deceiving you, but as you can see my options were limited. Your deeds tonight are only the beginning, for you are all fated to have great influence on the future of Korvosa. Keep the harrow deck. My spirit inhabits it, and when you arrive at a critical juncture, I’ll be there to help guide your way.”

After she finishes speaking, her image fades and the cards are back in Barub’s hands. Or perhaps they never left in the first place. It’s difficult to tell. Perplexed by the new revelations, we decide to claim Zellara’s place as a base of operations and spend the night, but we soon realize we’re all too hungry to sleep. We brave the streets once more in the hopes the nearby Gold Market isn’t too impacted by the riots.

A few minutes later, we arrive at the Gold Market to find it intact and filled with people similarly in search of provisions. We purchase some food and have a merchant appraise our new treasures. He does this for a handful of silver pieces, but when he sees the brooch I offer him, he retracts his hand.

“Where did you get that?” he asks, eyeing me suspiciously.

“A…,” I stutter…”a foul man had it. He’s gone now.”

His eyes narrow as he seems to try to decide whether to believe me or not.

“It belongs to the queen,” he says. “You must return it at once.”

With that, he refuses any further business and turns to attends to other clients. We return to Zellara’s and make camp for the night.

I toss and turn all night, alternating restless sleep with vivid dreams of fires. In one particularly disturbing dream I see Queen Ileona laughing manically as my sister burns in a terrible fire. I’m unable to move, and my only thoughts are “if I’d only returned the brooch…”.

I awake with a start and perhaps a small cry, but it doesn’t seem to disturb anyone else’s rest. I lay my head back down, but I get little sleep the rest of the night.

Come morning, exhausted from the fitful night, I decide I must find a safe place for Yelena to stay. She’s too young to be getting caught up in whatever fate may await us. It’s tempting just to bring her to my flat where the two of us can stay and wait it out, but I can’t shake the dream and the sense I must return the brooch.

Bidding the others farewell after agreeing to regroup in a couple days at Zellara’s, I take Yelena out into the streets where chaos continues to reign. I recall the location of Scrapper Hall Orphanage from my days seeking out Yelena. I’d scoped the place out a few times, but my hopes of finding her there were never met.

When we arrive, the strict matron, a dwarf named Bilna Drankdeep, comes outside to meet us. She has the attire and mannerisms reminiscent of the Order of the Nail Hellknights. She stares at us with cold, assessing eyes.

“I’m afraid there’s little room to spare. Riverside House has been burned in an act of arson, and as the only other ophanage requires connections through the Korvosan Guard, the survivors turned up here just a few hours ago. Our already packed ranks have swelled beyond capacity.”

My shoulders slump in despair, and Yelena turns frightened eyes toward me. To her credit, she doesn’t shrink back or slump from the news.

“Still,” says Bilna, her voice and expression softening. “She seems capable enough, and I do have need of a new house servant.” She rubs her chin thoughtfully, and her eyes twinkle slightly. “Twenty gold pieces for training and resources should be enough to get her started until she can earn her own keep.”

For a moment I consider offering a lesser sum for I’m certain she increased the price for her own benefit. I quickly dismiss it, though. I want Yelena to be as safe as possible, and a happy and grateful matron is my best bet.

“Very well,” I say, and hand over the sum. “If I may have just a moment first?”

Bilna nods in agreement, her eyes fixed on the coins in her hand, then she retreats to the orphanage’s doorway to wait.

I kneel down next to Yelena, and place both hands on her shoulders. “I know we were only just reunited, Yelena, but things are changing rapidly and I can’t help but feel I’m a part of it. I don’t want you in any more danger than necessary. If things get hairy here, I have a flat in Garrison Hill.”

At that moment, the child who called himself Nibbles runs by with a few other kids. Yelena’s face lights up with recognition and joy, causing a stir of both comfort and jealousy within me.

“I’ll be all right, Iduna,” she says.

I smile, and pull out a few more coins from my newly gotten gains to place surrepticiously in her hand.

“Take these,” I say. “Keep them hidden, and only use them in an emergency.”

She nods and slides them into a pocket. I also provide her with the exact location of my flat, and a key, just in case. I have other means to open my door.

I give her a hug and a kiss, and send her off to Bilna, who has once again donned a serious and impatient expression. With a final wave, Yelena disappears inside, and I promise myself I’ll see her again even as I wipre a few tears away.

With that unpleasant business out of the way, I turn my attention to locating a merchant to sell the garnet amulet. I also find myself in need of a new healing potion. Making my way carefully through the streets I soon find myself on Eodred’s Walk, home to many artisinal shops. One marked Gemshare Jewelers catches my eye. I seem to recall it has a good reputation.

I approach the storefront, currently guarded by a couple of capable-looking swashbuckler types. They look me up and down in an assessing manner, apparently concluding I’m no threat, before stepping aside and letting me in.

Inside I meet a pair of brothers who introduce themselves as Nico and Alexios Lantos and proudly explain their ties to a minor noble family in Cheliax. I smile politely and nod as though the family name holds any meaning for me.

When they finish, I pull out my garnet amulet. “I would like to get this assessed, please.”

Their eyes light up, Nico’s perhaps just a little bit more, and they take it eagerly, but gently, from my hand. They look it over a moment, nod satisfactorily, then Nico takes it behind the counter while Alexios attends to some chores. I watch as Alexios glides effortlessly around the room, accomplishing many tasks at once as though inspired by Irori himself.

I hear some “oohs” and “aahs” as well as the occasional “oh, yes” and “very nice” coming from Nico. I decide to peruse the shiny gems and jewelry in the showcases while I wait. There are many attractive items, and my heart yearns for them, but I remind myself I still owe rent and just paid a hefty sum for Yelena’s stay at the orphanage.

“Good news!” Nico shouts at last. “This is a fine piece, my lady.” I blush a little at the formal affectation. “I’m willing to offer you the sum of one hundred five gold pieces.”

My eyes light up a the offer, and though my eyes flicker briefly over the jewels, I remind myself again there are other needs. I graciously accept his offer and am soon headed out the door with a heavier belt pouch. I make a mental note to return here in the not-so-distant future.

Unfortunately, my efforts to obtain a healing potion are met with less success. The Temple of Sarenrae is out of stock, and the normally reliable shop I previously purchased such an item was burned down in the chaos. Other, more dubious, locations prove to be closed or selling obvious hocks, so I decide to give up my quest and hope for better results once the chaos dies down a little.

I return to my flat, utter a magical phrase, slip through the door and gently close it behind me. After getting cleaned up and making a meal of what fish I have left over from the fish monger’s payments, I settle in for the night wondering what adventures lie in store for me tomorrow.

Chapter 5 – The Queen’s Brooch

We reunite at Zellara’s at the appointed time, mid-afternoon on the third day after the defeat of Gaedren Lamm. By the time I arrive, the others are already there, and indeed it appears as though Zeph has decided to move in permanently. The shop has been tidied up, and he seems to have supplied some of his personal belongings to help spruce the place up.

Such is the way of rogues, I think to myself with a chuckle.

After a brief round of greetings and catching up, we decide it’s high time to return the brooch to Queen Ileosa. Further inquiries were made regarding the brooch in the interim with all results proving only ro reinforce the idea that any other course of action would be misguided.

And so, it is without reservation that we begin to wind our way toward Citadel Hill and the seat of the monarchy, Castle Korvosa. Continued civil discontent forces us to abandon the main thouroughfare in favor of the narrow side streets. Along the way, we spy a mob surrounding what appears to be a nobleman in some distress.

“Bet’cha never worked an honest day’s wage in your life, eh, Queen’s Man?” A fat bald man with a greasy muttonchops and a broken table leg in one hand jeers the nobleman. “M’brother had his arm crushed by a barrel on the docks when he was younger than you. Never raised a mug of ale with that wrist again. Wanna know what that’s like?”

Before anyone else can react, Barub marches up to the mob, and loudly declares, “Disperse at once, or my friends and I will have to hurt you!”

Unfortunately, just at that moment, there was a loud explosion not too far away and only one member of the mob seems to have heard her. The brigand, a broken bottle held in one hand, turns to face her, one eyebrow raised questioningly. He seems unimpressed.

Realizing her bravado may have been blunted a bit by her “friends” still huddling a bit back in the shadows, I step forward to join her.

“Unhand him at once,” I say. “We have business with this man.” It’s a lie of course, but a lie is better then allowing a mob to slaughter someone for no particular reason.

This time, the mob turns wholly around, but my words don’t seem to have any more effect that Barub’s did. The fat man speaks again, waving his table leg menacingly.

“We have business, too,” he says with a wicked grin. “He has far too many teeth for our liking.”

Suddenly, Saban scrambles up Barub’s back to stand upon her shoulders. She seems not to notice.

“For every tooth he loses, you all die!” Saban shouts loudly.

The declaration seems to elicit more confusion than anything else from the crowd, and while they’re deciding what to do, Emrisil steps forward.

“Everyone calm down,” she says then gestures toward the rest of us. “You don’t want to fight my friends here.”

The mob’s courage and enthusiasm seems to dissipate at last, and with some grumbling and whispered curses, the crowd begins to disperse. As the bald man passes by the nobleman, I think I see him mouth the words “you’re lucky”.

Once the crowd has fully disappeared, the nobleman settles down and introduces himself as Amin Jalento.

“If you’re ever looking to purchase a house, look me up. I can offer you a hefty discount as recompense for your actions today.”

He seems eager to get away, but after hearing him called the queen’s man, I wonder if he might actually be able to help us now.

“One moment, Amin,” I say. “You are a queen’s man, yes?”

He looks confused for a moment, then says, “we are all queen’s men now, are we not?”

My hopes that he might be able to introduce us or perhaps smooth things over with the queen when we arrive are dashed. Perhaps I need to do some more research into the city’s noble structure.

“I see,” I say, then turn away somewhat disgruntled. He offers a slight bow and takes the opportunity to slip away.

Continuing on, we soon arrive at the steps of Castle Korvosa. The immense black marble structure rests high above the city at the top of a pyramid built to cyclopean scale. Many towers rise from the roofed keep, including an impressively large clock tower I seem to recall someone naming the Epochal Tower along with others of equal or greater height whose names I don’t recall.

Several guards stand at attention at the bottom of the Great Ramp. They order us to halt as we approach and demand to know our business.

Emrisil steps up to them, and says, “we have business with the Queen. We have something of interest for her.”

The guards take a moment to scrutinize us, then, almost as if they already know what we have, they step aside and let us pass.

“That seemed a little too easy,” I whisper to Zeph. He nods in agreement, his brows creased in consternation.

We march up the Great Ramp to the top where an additional set of four guards greet us and escort us into the castle proper. I see sweat forming upon their brows despite the coolness of the air, and can’t help but wonder if they might be nervous even though I can think of no reason why they would be.

At the top of the pyramid we come to a wide staircase that curls up to the third floor of the keep. Standing at the bottom is a woman dressed in a magnificient set of of full plate armor that gleams like the scales of a great red wyrm. I find myself taken aback by both the glimmer of the armor and the beauty of the woman within, and find myself feeling slightly ashamed of the rather ordinary blue robe I’m weating. I’ve had to stitch together multiple times to keep it from falling apart, but even with that, it’s the nicest piece I own.

“Greetings, heroes,” she says in a commanding tone. “I’m afraid you’ll have to leave your weapons here.” She gestures to the guards who move quickly to gather up our weapons, though as I obviously have none, they leave me alone.

“I understand you have something for the queen?” she asks.

“Yes, we do.” I pull out the brooch to show her. She gives it barely a passing glance before turning and gesturing for us to follow.

As she leads us up the stairs, she asks for our names and titles. I quickly answer, “Idunna Agnarrsdotter of Halgrim.” I wince a little, uncertain as to why I added that last part except maybe to appear more important than I really am. The others quickly follow suit, however, naming that various parts of the city where they’re from, and I feel slightly more at ease.

“Very good,” she says. “My name is Sabina Merrin, the queen’s handmaiden and bodyguard.”

I can tell by the way she moves and talks she’s a competent woman. She also manages to keep her eyes both forward and upon each of us as we go, so as to assess us. What she thinks of us, I cannot say.

We reach the top of the stairs and round the corner, and before I can take in the grandeur of the throne room, she loudly proclaims our arrival and introduces us each in turn.

The throne room is pristine, but strangely empty, with a high vaulted ceiling and beautiful stained glass windows depicting the previous kings and queens of Korvosa adorning the east wall. For a fleeting moment I wonder if King Eodred will join their ranks.

At the far end, seated upon the Crimson Throne itself, is Queen Ileosa, a vision of celestial beauty in her own right, despite the black mourning dress and veil she dons. A precious-looking silver coffer rests upon her lap, twinkling slightly in the light of the fire emanating from a fireplace large enough to light the entire hall.

With one raised eyebrow, she states, “I understand you have my brooch?”

Slightly taken aback by her knowledge of the brooch in our possession, I hold the brooch up before her. She makes a gesture, and Sabina holds out her hand for it. I hand it over gently, and Sabina transfers it to the queen. She takes the brooch, and hands the silver coffer to Sabina in exchange so she can handle to brooch with both hands.

“This brooch was stolen from me some time ago—I had not expected to see it again, truth be told. And yet, here on my darkest day, you come before me with kindness. The return of this brooch is much more than an honorable deed. It is inspiration. It is hope.

“I love Korvosa, as my husband did before me. His death has shocked the city as it has me, but I will not see his legacy destroyed in death, and I shall not see my city torn apart. All Korvosa stands at the precipice of a disaster wrought by her citizens—these riots cannot continue. You have already done my heart a great service in returning this bauble to me on this dark day, and you shall be rewarded. Yet, perhaps you can serve your city more.”

I glance at the others, but their eyes are all fixed upon the queen. I wonder if this is what Zellara was talking about when she said we were fated to influence the future of Korvosa.

“If you so choose, I shall have Sabina see to it that you have an escort of guards when you leave here—they can see to your safe journey to Citadel Volshyenek. I shall send word ahead of you to Field Marshal Cressida Kroft to let her know you are on the way—the Korvosan Guard is stretched thin, and it can certainly use the aid of heroes such as yourself. Now, I need to retire to my personal quarters—my grief has drained me. Again, I thank you for the kindness you have shown me, and I hope your days of serving the crown are only just beginning.”

She rises to leave and makes a gesture to Sabina, but before anyone can act, Barub falls to her knees, her hands together as if in prayer.

“Oh, great Queen,” she cries out. “Please, I need your help. My mother was wrongfully accused and sits in jail. Please free her.”

For the barest fraction of a second, I see the queen’s nostrils flare as if in agitation, but she quickly composes herself.

“Take the matter up with Field Marshal Kroft, with my blessing.”

“Oh, thank you, my queen.”

Barub continues to grovel even as Queen Ileosa turns and strides from the room. Sabina ignores her and steps forward to offer the silver coffer to Emrisil, who happened to be standing closest at the time.

“Your reward for the return of the brooch. We thank you for your service to the queen and the city of Korvosa.”

She leads us back out and down the stairs to the awaiting guards. Along the way, we peek inside the coffer to spy twelve gold ingots imprinted with the royal seal of Korvosa. They must be worth at least a hundred gold pieces each. We quickly close the coffer and deposit it in Emrisil’s backpack.

At the base of the stairs, we confirm our desire for the guard escort to Citadel Volshyenek so we may join the Korvosan Guard.

Chapter 6 – Welcome to the Korvosan Guard

With a four guard escort, none of whom seem interested in talking, we arrive at Citadel Volshyenek without incident. Two nervous looking guards greet us, but as promised they seem to be expecting us and let us in without preamble. The escort turns and marches back from where we came, presumably to return to the castle.

The citadel sits upon a short spit of land overlooking the Jeggare River south of West Dock. There’s little remarkable about the building except that it appears to be running at close to skeleton crew. There are few guards to be seen. With the chaos and discontent in the street, it’s almost a wonder it hasn’t been overrun.

Inside we are directed to a harried and tired-looking woman with short, black hair, currently unkempt, and a suit of red armor bearing the emblem of the Korvosan Guard. She rises as we approach.

“Ah yes—you are the ones sent by Queen Ileosa. Greetings—my name is Cressida, and heroes of your caliber are exactly what Korvosa needs now. You’ve been on the streets. You know better than me how bad things are out there. It’s breaking my heart to see Korvosa tear herself apart like this. Every little bit of aid we can get from upstanding citizens like you helps. If you’re willing, I’d very much like to retain your services as agents of the Guard. I don’t need to say, of course, that you’ll be well compensated for these services.”

I nod eagerly, as do most of my companions, but Zeph steps forward.

“What would the job entail?” he asks, a trace of skepticism in his voice.

Her eyes rove appreciatively up and down at him. “You’re right to be skeptical of course,” she says, then offers a deep sigh.

“Korvosa’s got enough troubles as it is without my own men losing their way and going rogue. As much as it pains me to admit, though, this has happened several times already. Many guards have deserted their posts, more concerned about friends and family than the city. I can understand this, yet not all of the deserters have family—some of them are simply using the riots as an excuse for personal gain. One such man is Verik Vancaskerkin. Worse than a lone deserter, he’s convinced a small group of fellow guards that Queen Ileosa is going to ruin the city.

“Whether she does or doesn’t isn’t the point—right now, we’ve got a city-wide crisis on our hands, and I need all of my guards working with me to see us through. A deserter is worse than a lost resource—it’s an infection. I can’t afford to pull any of my other patrols off duty to deal with Vancaskerkin, and I’d rather not expose any of them to him anyway, since I neither want Vancaskerkin to infect more guards with his talk of secession, nor do I want some overly patriotic guard killing Vancaskerkin outright. I need impartial, skilled talent. Like you.

My hackles raise at the thought of secession, but in the back of my mind I wonder if Queen Ileosa as she appears, or is there something more sinister at play?

“Vancaskerkin and his men have holed up in an abandoned butcher’s shop up in Northgate—the place was called All the World’s Meat. I need you to check out the place. Try to avoid killing any of the deserters if you can, but if you must, they brought it upon themselves when they threw in their lot with Vancaskerkin. For him, I’d really prefer it if you could capture him alive and return him to me for interrogation, but if he makes that impossible, I’ll accept his body as well. Finally, see if you can find out why Verik deserted—if there’s more to it than simple personal politics, I need to know immediately. Bring me Verik alive, and there’s another thousand gold in it for you. Dead, he’s only worth half that.”

As she finishes her speech, Barub once again rushes forward to ask about her mother’s freedom. I roll my eyes and wonder if she heard any of what Cressida said. Not that I don’t want her mother freed, but I can’t help but wonder if the half-orc doesn’t have a one-track mind.

“And why should we free such a criminal?” I hear Cressida ask, an underpinning of annoyance in her voice.

“Because she’s innocent!” Barub proclaims. She seems confused by the question.

“Do you have any proof of this?”

Barub nods enthusiastically and digs into her backpack for Gaedren’s ledger and other papers. She hesitates for only a moment, then hands it all over to the field marshal.

“Very well,” she says, looking dubiously at the ‘evidence’. “If it is as you say, then we will free her, but understand that doing so is contingent upon your service to the Guard.”

Something about the way she says it rankles me. “I would think justice served would be the driving force.”

“Yes,” she says, nodding approval, “but the timeliness of that justice is negotiable. We are, as you can see, severely understaffed at the moment.”

I scowl at her words, but offer no further protest. As a group, we agree to take on the assignment. All the World’s Meat is located in Northpoint near a tea shop called the Three Rings Tavern. In the hopes of finding out some information at the tea shop, we decide to head there first.

I trail behind the others as we make our way down the street, my thoughts drifting to Yelena and wondering how she might be faring at the orphanage. My heart yearns for her, but I remind myself she’s in a safe place.

My thoughts are broken when a strange voice whispers in my ear, “there are a lot of pickpockets around. You should take out all your coins, place them on the ground and count them.

Years spent in the Shingles and back alleys of notorious neighborhoods searching for my lost sister have guarded me against the suggestive nature of the imps that crawl across the city. I shake off the ridiculous suggestion as the foul creature appears beside me chuckling to himself. It’s not one I’ve seen before, or maybe it is. They all look the same to me.

I’m about to shout a warning, when three others appear around us, each seemingly having whispered in the ears of the others. Saban, seated atop Barub’s shoulders appears unaffected as he punches out at the imp hovering beside him. Emrisil is less fortunate, and I can only stare helplessly as she takes out her shield, inspects it for a moment, then begins to clean it.

A tug at my belt alerts me, and I turn just in time to thwart Zeph’s attempt to relieve me of some coins. Pickpockets, indeed, I think to myself, but I know it’s just the imps in his head making him do this. I step away from him, and he slips off to find another victim.

From the corner of my eye, I see Saban now on the ground, he and Barub fighting side by side against the nuisance imps. I try to cast ray of frost, but the imp near me takes a swipe, and as I’m forced to lurch backward the spell is lost.

One imp cries out in pain, then utters, “that hurt. Let’s see how you like it.” I can only assume who the creature might be talking to as I’m too harried by my own imp to take a peek.

As the imp dives in, I step away and unleash a blast of cold at the creature. It hits, but the imp shakes it off. I forgot they have a resistance to cold.

“Eureka,” Emrisil shouts. My eyes flit in her direction. She proudly holds her shield up. It shines more than before. Zeph appears to be reeling backward as though interrupted in a surreptitious act.

As Emrisil puts away her shield and starts to realize what’s going on, I pull out the wand I’d picked up from Gaedren’s crony, and blast the imp with a glob of acid. Much like my ray of cold energy, it has no effect. I didn’t know they had a resistance to acid. I frown, wondering what to do next.

In this moment, a pair of faerie dragons swoop down from the sky and attack the imps. I’ve seen such creatures before. I think they belong to students of the Acadamae, replacements for the imps they once used but who clearly proved less than helpful. Once, I was asked to join their ranks, but my focus then was on finding Yelena, not studying magic. Given the imps resistance to anything I can throw at them, perhaps I should have reconsidered.

By this time, Zeph seems to have snapped out of his suggestive trance, and the battle now wages on multiple fronts. I slip inside my circle of allies and take up a defensive position, not knowing what else I can really do. The arrival of the faerie dragons has turned things in our favor, and I’m content to wait things out for the time being. Soon enough, only one imp remains, and its attempt to flee is met with failure when one of the faerie dragons chases it down and finishes it off.

A young girl with red hair drawn into pigtails arrives, slightly breathless and her skirt fluttering behind her. The two faerie dragons loop through the air then settle in on either of the girl’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry we weren’t able to assist sooner.” A hardened gaze falls over each of us in turn as she pauses to catch her breath. “Does anyone need healing?”

I notice now a couple of scratches along my arm. Apparently the imp I struck landed a blow after all. Barub also bears some wounds. The two dragons fly over and use their magic to heal us.

“What’s your name?” Saban asks the girl.

“Fiends can only be truly harmed by good or cold iron,” the girl says, apparently ignoring the question. After seeing that we are fully recovered she clicks her tongue, then she and her two pets disappear into the shadows.

A short time later, we arrive at the Three Rings Tavern. The proprietor, a woman of both grace and confidence, appears from the back and approaches our table as we take our seats.

“Welcome to the Three Rings Tavern. I am your host, Theandra Darklight.” She offers a warm smile. “You’re just in time for last call on today’s special, a strawberry pastry whose recipe hails all the way from Geb. I make them myself.”

We order a round of tea and pastries for everyone, except Zeph opts for an alocohlic beverage in place of tea. When she returns with the order, Emrisil asks about All the World’s Meat.

“Oh, yes,” she says. “Wonderful people over there. Every morning since the king died they’ve been handing out free food to those in need, a service to the people in these trying times.”

Saban looks at her curiously. “Why?”

Theandra ponders for a moment, then says, “I belive they’re do-gooders, former members of the militia whose thoughts maybe don’t align with those of the queen.”

She checks to see if we need anything else, then disappears back through the door to the kitchen. A nearby patron, who no doubt overheard us, speaks up.

“Better get there early. They run out fast.”

“Thank you, sir,” I say to the man. Hs is disheveled and unkempt, and missing more than his share of teeth. His eyes dart back and forth as though searching for eavesdroppers.

“They assist in other matters as well,” he says, almost in a whisper, then he frowns. “Not sure I should be telling you this.”

Barub, louder than perhaps the man would’ve liked, says, “how do we convince you?”

He rubs two grubby fingers together. “Two gold pieces outta do it.”

Barub digs two coins out of her purse and hands them over. The man seems surprised, no doubt expecting some haggling.

“Ask about the night’s special,” he says to us, his eyes fixed on the coins in his hand. I peer at him, sensing there’s more to this than a greed for gold. His eyes seem angry. Perhaps he missed out on some meat, or he was denied these additional services. Whatever the case, I sense he wants to get the people there in trouble, but to that end is telling the truth for as far as he knows it.

The man rises from his seat, bows a thank you, and rapidly departs the shop. We finish our snack and debate whether to head over to All the World’s Meat tonight or wait until morning.

Chapter 7 – All the World’s Meat, Indeed

As we leave the Three Rings Tavern, the atmosphere of the city has calmed and the distant fires have turned to ash. Even the streets are less dangerous as the more seedy citizens recently crawling the streets have disappeared. As a result, we’re able to reach All the World’s Meat without interruption.

A sign bearing the image of a fat, smiling cow hangs above the entrance of what proves to be a partial two-story building. A woman in ragged clothing with an unkempt and unruly child sits beneath the sign as though awaiting entrance. A large cattle pen sits attached to the building and stinks of mud and manure. A few lights glimmering inside shine light upon the ground, but only enough to see shapes of lumps upon the ground.

I eye the woman on the steps, and she stiffens up.

“First in line,” she says.

We hesitate, then decide to slip around the side of the building. Barub marches up to what appears to be a supply door and knocks loudly on it, though the sound is dampened a bit by some waterlog.

“Hello!” She calls out, but there’s no answer.

Emrisil heads back to the front door. I see her offer some food to the woman, which she then shares with her son. Emrisil steps up and knocks on the door, but after a moment offers us a shrug.

Barub climbs into the pen and marches toward another door. I hear a squishing sound and can only imagine what she might have stepped in. She seems about to knock, but instead tries the handle and the door proves to be unlocked. She pushes open the door and gestures for us to follow.

We follow her across the pen, stepping carefully, and enter a room with a hard-packed earthen floor and two fenced-in and gated areas, one of which houses an angry looking boar huffing in annoyance at our intrusion. Barub stands in the unoccupied enclosure washing her boot in a raised trough. The boar growls threateningly at her. Zeph, seeming to have noticed something, joins Barub and searches beneath the trough. For whatever reason, this seems to anger the boar even further. It snorts and prepares to charge.

I try to edge past the enclosure, but stumble as the boar crashes into the fence of its enclosure, its head poking through and nipping at me. I slam against the outside door, which closed behind us, and fall to my knees in the muck. Ahead, Barub crashes through an interior door and into the next room.

“Ho there,” someone shouts from inside that room. “Who are you then?”

“We’re here to assess the night’s special,” Barub says with some semblance of confidence.

With the boar continuing to push its way through the gate, I scramble to my feet and rush away from the boar, following the others into the next room. Zeph tosses some hard tack towards the boar just before I clsoe the door behind us and secure it.

“I don’t know who you are, but you shouldn’t mess with the Cow Hammer Boys.”

I turn around to see two men, one broad-shouldered and mean looking, and the other a bit skinny and nervous looking. They’re standing near a butcher block, the remnants of an aurochs still resting on top. They step around the block and begin some kind of battle dance where they slap their knees then their hips then cross their arms over their chests in a weird display of bravado.

Saban runs across the room and takes up a menacing stance. “The Cowhammer boys are no match for,” he says and stomps each foot solidly on the ground, “the stone foot.”

I can’t tell if he’s mocking them or if this is something he’s practiced, but I lean toward the former.

“We aren’t here to fight,” Emrisil says. I’m not certain Saban agrees, but she seems to be ignoring him. “We don’t want to harm you. We just want to talk.”

The mean-looking man narrows his eyes at Emrisil. “You can start by telling us why you’re breaking in.”

“We want to talk to Verik,” Emrisil says.

“You can talk to me.”

“What are you doing here?”

The man snorts. “We don’t have to tell you.” The smaller man shuffles his feet, his eyes darting back and forth.

Saban speaks up. “We’re here on the queen’s oders.”

The man spits on the ground and hefts his hammer. “We don’t answer to the queen. Enough talk. Get out before we use our hammers.”

“Do you know Field Marshal Kroft?” Zeph says from my left.

The man’s eyes narrow even further. “Leave now.” His eyes flit toward Saban. “Leave the halfling as collateral. Return in the morning. We can talk then.”

Saban stiffens. “I’ll stay if you give up Verik.”

“You heard our offer.”

“Denied.” Saban suddenly leaps at the two men, his short arms pumping furiously. The men are taken aback, but only momentarily.

“Hold still,” one of them says as they swing their hammers futilely at the quick-footed halfling.

I fire off a ray of frost, but it sails past everyone and slams into the wall. I curse myself for not practicing more even as the others move up to surround the self-proclaimed Cow Hammer Boys. I move for a better angle, but before I can summon the energy for a second spell, the mean Hammer Boy takes a stinging blow from Emrisil and collapses in a heap. I can’t tell if he’s alive or dead. Either way, his partner tosses down his weapon and surrenders.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice shaking. “I don’t want to be a part of this anymore. Please let me go. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Tell us what’s going on here,” Zephs says, one dagger held menacingly at the man’s throat.

“I…,” the man stutters, “I can’t. It’s Parns you want,” he adds with a nod toward his fallen comrade.

Zeph moves over to examine some meat hanging from hooks hanging from the ceiling.

“Some of this meat looks human,” he remarks.

As our eyes turn to regard him, our captive attempts to flee. Barub’s quick reflexes prevent him, as she slams her body into his and knocks him against the wall. He slumps to the ground unconscious. Emrisil examines both men and declares they are both still alive so we manacle them to a table.

When the man not named Parns awakens, we make it quite clear it’s time for him to come clean.

The man sighs. “Very well.” His eyes skip over to the still unconscious Parns, then he continues. “We…remove people for those who ask. They’re all bad people, I swear. Then we bring them back here, cut them up and add them to the meat.”

“Is it just you and Parns?” Zeph asks.

He shakes his head. “No, the others, Barnes and Vel Drago are out on a job now. They’ll be back soon. I’d rather not be here when they return.”

“What does Verik know about this?” Eliatris asks.

“About this? Nothing.”

“Why has Verik broken from the guard?” I ask.

The man holds up his hands to show us the manacles. “Let me go, and I’ll tell you. I’ll leave this place and you’ll never see me again. I swear.”

I can’t help but sense his sincerity. “I think we should,” I say. After a brief discussion, the others agree.

“Verik hates the queen. It’s another woman who pulls his strings now. I don’t know her name, but she provides the meat. If you look below the killing floor you’ll get the evidence you need to shut this place down.”

We step aside to let him go, and he offers a “God save the Queen” before he slips out and disappears into the night. As he leaves, Zeph moves to look beneath a large bloodstained grill cover. Beneath he discovers a wide hole from which emanates the unpleasant odor of the sewer.

Barub seems to lose patience and moves to open one of two side-by-side doors. It opens to meat locker, but aside from saw raw meat offers little of interest. The other door opens to hallway with a set of stairs leading up.

We decide to leave the mystery of what lies below the sewer grate for later and make our way up the stairs to a breakroom furnished with a round table and four wooden chairs. A door stands closed on the opposite side of the room.

While Barub moves to open the door, I remain on guard at the top of the stairs in case the two men “out on a job” return soon. Barub opens the door and steps aside as Emrisil steps forward.

“Ah, the queen’s cronies I presume?” says a gruff, male voice from within.

“We just want to talk,” Emrisil says.

I hear a clattering of metal. Sounds like Verik picking up a weapon. “It was only a matter of time before the queen’s agents interefered.”

“What are you doing?” A hint of panic creeps into Emrisil’s voice. Barub enters the room and strikes an intimidating pose.

“You know the queen hates the people of this city? We are the ones feeding them, not her.”

“Some of that meat is human.”

I hear a noise from below and focus my attention on it, letting the conversation with Verik fade to the background. As the sounds from below grow louder, I ready a spell. Two figures burst into the hallway below, see me and start to climb the stairs. I unleash the spell, sending forth a blast of water that sends both tumbling to the floor.

Looking around, I realize I’m now alone in the breakroom as the sounds of shouting and fighting emanate from Verik’s office. I rush to the doorway and peer inside. Verik is on his knees.

“You may think you’re serving Korvosa, but you’re not,” Verik says. He seems a handsome man, and he still wears his Korvosan Guard livery and armor. Zeph is pulling rope out of his backpack.

“You may think you’re not serving human meat,” says Saban, “but you are.”

Verik scowls. “Where’s your proof?”

“Sorry to interrupt,” I say, “but we’ve got company.”

“Come out and surrender,” says a voice from behind me.

I step into the office as Eliatris, Saban and Barub rush out to meet the two men. I take the rope from Zeph and tie Verik’s hands behind his back. Once Verik is secure, Zeph goes to join the others.

Looking around the room, I see a makeshift bed along one wall and a single large desk sitting awkwardly with one broken leg. A shining silver dagger sits on the floor near the desk, seemingly having fallen. Thinking back to the imp battle, I reach out and take up the dagger.

Something stabs into my hand, but what I cannot say. The dagger is exquisite and without blemish. I suck on my bleeding hand while examining it. A couple of thuds from outside tell me the fight is over, and as I tuck the dagger into my belt, the others start to file back into the room.

Zeph pouts a bit when he see I have the dagger, but he quietly goes about searching the room. We take some items from Verik, but leave his armor for now though Emrisil seems intrigued by it. We also find some letters Verik hadn’t yet been able to burn that indicate a tryst between him and someone named Melyia Arkona and that House Arkona has been providing the aurochs meat.

A ledger tallying the amount of meat coming in seems not to align with the amount of meat with found downstairs, but Verik continues to deny the truth. We march him downstairs and sit him down next to Parns while we go to investigate the sewer grate.

Saban volunteers to investigate. Barub and Emrisil lower him down on a meat hook. He shouts up that he sees something, but his shouts quickly turn to cries to be pulled up that almost drown out the sounds of snapping claws. Emrisil pulls him out, but clutching to him is a large, eel-like crustacean creature. I recognize the creature as a reefclaw from my days on my father’s ship. They are a menace up and down the Varisian coast.

Barub screams and swings her greatsword at the reefclaw, but it clatters backward and her sword slams into Saban instead. He screams in pain and slumps to floor unconscious. The reefclaw attacks Barub even as Zeph moves in to land a couple of blows. I summon a ray of cold energy, slam the creature and send it to its death. Emrisil uses her divine magic to heal Saban, who wakes somewhat groggily.

We hear more reefclaws below, so we grab some meat and lower it on hooks to draw them out. Focused on the meat, the reefclaws take our bait and we easily finish them off. With them out of the way, Zeph goes down into the tunnel, locates the object Saban had noticed and returns. Upon seeing the item, a mithral ring on a severed finger, Verik’s face turns pale.

“No! It can’t be!” His shoulders slump, then he adds, almost in a whisper, “you were telling the truth.”

“I never intended for any of this to happen,” Verik says, still hunched over.

“Why did you desert?” asks Emrisil.

“It was my love who suggested it. When Ileosa came to power, I knew it wouldn’t be in the city’s best interest. Her family wanted this operation to lay the groundwork for insurgency.”

Armed with this information, we pull Verik to his feet and march him outside. The angry boar has long since fled, having smashed a hole through the wall and run off into the city. Before leaving, we snag the cache of coins hidden by Verik’s duplicitous minions, and discover a cart we load two of the traitors into. As we make our way back to Citadel Volshyenek, Emrisil manages to convince Verik to give her his armor.

Chapter 8 – The Next Assignment

Upon our arrival, Cressida Kroft is pleased to see our mission was a success. While we were gone, she was successful in freeing Barub’s mother from prison. Barub gushes with joy upon their reunion.

Along with Barub’s mother, another figure stands beside Cressida, this one an older but still handsome man with his hair, mostly white but with some stubborn black streaks, pulled back in a pony tail. Sparkling green eyes belay his age, and I can’t help but feel a slight flutter when our eyes meet.

“Congratulations on your successful mission,” Cressida says after Verik has been escorted out of the room by a pair of guards. She then gestures toward her new companion. “This is Vencarlo Orisini, an old friend and advisor.”

“Ah, the fencing teacher,” Zeph says and offers him a gracious bow. The way he says it suggests this Vencarlo is more than a mere fencing teacher.

Vencarlo nods in appreciation to Zeph, then kisses first Emrisil’s hand, then mine before offering me his seat. I feel a flush of embarrassment at the attention, but try not to let it show as I take my seat. After the night’s events, I can hardly look, or smell, my best.

“Congratulations once again,” he says with a deep and elegant voice. “If Korvosa had more fine folk like you, we’d already be out of this mess.” He sighs with resignation.

“As much as I would enjoy continuing the conversation, I fear we just don’t have time,” Cressida says. “Vencarlo has often come to me with news of important changes on the streets, and this is no different—indeed, what he’s learned could degrade into sanctions, embargos, or even war against Cheliax if we don’t act now. This problem is a man named Darvayne Gios Amprei. You might have heard of him—he’s an ambassador from Cheliax whose disdain for Korvosa is well documented, and yet he’s taken great pleasure in what our city has to offer. Even before this recent unrest, this man was ready to recommend to his government a sanction on trade, or perhaps even an embargo. Vencarlo has learned through his own considerable sources that Ambassador Amprei’s actual goals are to undermine Korvosa’s economy to the point where he can buy up large portions of the city from desperate landholders and establish himself in a position of power here. Whatever the ambassador’s reasons, we can’t let his bias or personal plans hurt Korvosa. Yet neither can we take drastic action—not only would killing him be wrong, but it’d simply martyr him in Cheliax’s eyes.”

We pause Cressida in her speech and tell her what we learned about Melyia Arkona and her involvement with Verik’s plans at All the World’s Meat. She takes the information in stride before continuing.

“Fortunately, Darvayne has his foibles. Again, Vencarlo has learned that Ambassador Amprei has been making fairly regular visits to a place in Old Korvosa called Eel’s End. This den of vice is run by a dangerous man named Devargo Barvasi, better known in Korvosa’s alleys as the King of Spiders. I’d love to put Barvasi out of business, but he pays his vice taxes regularly and never causes any problems—in fact, since he keeps his business constrained entirely within the five ships moored at Eel’s End, he’s actually one of the least of my worries. Truth be told, I can’t decide whether Devargo is a stirge or a kraken. He seems like a bloodsucking pest most days, but sometimes I fear just how far his tentacles have wormed their way into our great city. In this case though, his insidious web stretching across Korvosa’s underworld might prove to our advantage.

“Devargo would never let someone he recognizes as an ally of the Guard into Eel’s End, but your group’s a different case. I’d like you to pay a visit to Eel’s End and secure an audience with Devargo. Find out what he knows about Amprei, get proof of any illicit goings-on the ambassador might be involved with, and bring that proof to me to use to undermine any forthcoming attempts by him to get Cheliax to cut us off. Devargo might not be willing to part with his information easily. I’ll supply you with some gold to bribe him, and whatever’s left over you can keep for yourself. Remember: the man is dangerous, but so are you—if things get violent, I wouldn’t mourn his passing.”

We eagerly accept the new assignment, then agree to meet the next day at the Three Rings Tavern for lunch and to discuss plans. I return to my flat in Garrison Hill for some much needed rest and freshening up.

The next morning I stop by the West Dock before heading over to Three Rings Tavern to let the fish merchant I’ve been working for know I may be absent for a while. He seems a bit put off at first, but I offer him my prettiest smile and whatever resentment might have been there dissipates quickly.

I arrive at the Three Rings Tavern to find the others already assembled and deep into their first drinks. I offer apologies for my tardiness and take my seat. The conversation seems centered around Devargo, what we know about him, and how to approach him, but before I can find my way into the conversation, a lean-looking man in a guard’s outfit stumbles over to the table and smacks Emrisil on the back with a heart pat.

“Hey Neffi, remember the goblins of Sandpoint?” he asks as though he recognizes Emrisil. She doesn’t seem to know him though. He squints at her curiously. “Don’t you remember me? It’s your old pal, Grau.”

He hiccups and shakes his head in dismay. “The king is dead. Everything is falling to pieces.”

“The queen doesn’t seem so bad,” Emrisil says.

“What?” Grau stumbles backward as though struck. “You’re a sympathizer? I demand a duel!”

He lurches forward and pushes Emrisil, though not very successfully as she just rises to her feet.

“Let’s take this outside,” she says.

The rest of us follow the two of them outside as the manager of the tavern mouths a thank you in our direction.

“We’re gonna have a proper duel,” Grau says as he takes his position and whirls on Emrisil. “Sandpoint style.”

“I’ll allow you the first strike.” Emrisil draws her own sword and prepares for battle.

Grau lurches forward and strikes, and from there the two exchange several hits and misses. Despite his obvious intoxication, Grau proves both skillful and deadly with the blade. I wonder briefly if Vencarlo Orisini had anything to do with his training.

“You don’t deserve to live in Sandpoint,” Grau says in between strikes. His eyes go wide when Emrisil lands a solid blow. “You’re the Sandpoint Devil, ain’t ya? I’ll kill ya dead!”

Emrisil dodges another attack, calls upon her deity for some healing, then lands a finishing blow.

Grau collapses to the ground and begins to sob. “I’m the biggest loser in Sandpoint.”

Emrisil puts her arm around him to console him, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. A crowd from the tarvern has by now gathered behind us. Whispers of Grau being a watch sergeant and blaming himself for the death of king filter through. I feel a pang of sympathy for the man.

After a time, the crowd disperses and returns to their drinking. Grau gets up and gives his sword, a fine piece of mithral to Emrisil, her reward for winning the duel. He then stumbles off. I can only hope he comes to peace with his conscience.

No one feels much like plotting after the duel, so instead we agree to split responsibilities on selling our new-gotten wares. I agree to take the jewelery to Nico at Gemshare Jewelers and leave the others to determine how to handle the armor and weapons. Zeph eyes the dagger at my waist, and I decide I can probably use any money gained in sales to purchase something, so I hand it over to him.

I make my way to Eodred’s Walk and enter Nico’s shop. Alexios doesn’t seem to be around, but Nico welcomes me and is happy to exchange the jewelry for gold. He doesn’t even ask where I got the pieces.

We haggle a bit over the silver coffer that contained the gold ingots, but despite his increased offer I decide to keep it. He seems mildly disappointed, but the ingots were far more valuable anyway. During our exchange, conversation drifts toward some blood red pearls recently found in oysters in the Jegarre River. He thinks they are a sign from Gozreh.

“I think Gozreh is telling us the circumstances behind his death are not so clear!”

I smile politely, not really sure if I agree with him or not, then head back home to drop off the silver coffer and some gold for Yelena should she need access to some. I place a few pieces of platinum in the coffer and leave it on my dresser among some other belongs. I want it to look somewhat blended in, but should any thieves break in, it could also serve as a prize so they don’t keep looking.

I then take a larger sum of money, place it in a small pouch and leave it under a loose floorboard under the bed. My next stop is the Scrapper Hall Orphanage to check in on Yelena. She seems to be getting along well with the other children and going about her chores dutifully. I quietly tell her about the money hidden in the flat, then take my leave.

Finally, I decide it’s time to brush up on the local nobility. Zeph clearly recognized Vencarlo, and even some of the other names were not foreign to him. If I’m going to play a part in what happens in Korvosa, I should probably know more about the people of the city.

To do this, I spend some time asking around and studying in the library. There are many noble houses in Korvosa, and by the end I feel as though I can at least reasonably pass for someone who knows a thing or two.

The next day I meet up with the others to exchange proceeds and begin our next task. We must make our way to Eel’s End and find incriminating evidence of illicit dealings to be held against Darvayne Gios Amprei of Cheliax and end his political threat to Korvosan sovereignty. Devargo Barvasi, the King of Spiders, may have just the information we need.

Chapter 9 – Eel’s End

Eel’s End is in Old Korvosa, not far from my flat, though certainly in a seedier district. I recall having passed by it once or twice. Vencarlo walks with us on our way. He talks of Grau, who attacked Emrisil at Three Rings Tavern. Grau was a former pupil of his. Zeph nods in understanding and whispers to me, “That explains his technique.”

I assume he means his fighting style. Swordplay looks to me like little more than a bunch of slashing and stabbing, though I know there are nuances. I prefer my magic, or in a pinch maybe a crossbow. My father taught me to use one while working on his ship. Perhaps I should look to procure one soon.

Vencarlo asks us how we all came to be here. I’m eager to impress him with my newfound education on the local houses, and am working out how to weave it into the conversation while Barub spills her entire history, her family’s history and anything else even tangentially related. I’m not even sure she’s answering Vencarlo as much as just letting words fall out in whatever order they happen to come.

Vencarlo shifts away from the talkative half-orc and sidles up close to Saban. I work my way over to try to remain in the conversation.

“What do you like about Korvosa, my halfing friend?” Vencarlo asks.

Saban shrugs. “It’s home.” He looks thoughtful for a moment, then adds, “Mostly it’s the sailing I enjoy.”

Hard to argue with that.

Vencarlo nods, his expression suggesting he was hoping for a little more than that.

“I’m concerned about the reabsorption of Korvosa into Cheliax,” Vencarlo says. “It’s a time of transition, and it’s difficult to see which way Korvosa will go.”

I consider what I’ve learned recently. “Do you think House Arkona is behind such a movement? They were the ones behind Verik’s recent activities after all.”

He face goes blank. “I hadn’t considered such a possibility.”

My heart sinks. I can’t shake the feeling I said something stupid.

“Tell us about Barvasi,” Zeph says, joining the conversation. I can still Barub prattling on, but it seems only Emrisil is still listening, though from her stoic expression she may also be working hard to tune out the noise.

“You must be very cautious with Barvasi,” Vencarlo says. “He’s both greedy and cunning.”

We cross the Narrows into Old Korvosa where Vencarlo shifts his position to more easily address all of us.

“You can find Eel’s End to the east, first pier after the last bridge.” He bows deeply and elegantly. “Thank you again.”

Fading daylight marks the start of evening. Vencarlo goes his own way and we soon hear the sounds of carousing marking our arrival at Eel’s End, a collection of elegantly painted ships moored to a long pier. Large signs invite us to enter a variety of entertainment venues such as The Twin Tigers, The Goldenhawk, Dragon’s Breath, and the House of Clouds. The suggestive description of the latter paints a clear picture of what to expect inside. Short rope bridges and gangplanks provide access to each ship.

One ship, the largest of all, bears no signage. I suspect this may be where Barvasi’s offices are located. A large crowd has gathered upon the pier between the ships consisting of sailors, thugs, drunks and other colorful people. A few may even be nobles. Here, at least, there seems to be little concern for the political upheaval in the city.

As we approach, we are quickly surrounded by gypsies, mostly women, seeking to sell us goods or point us in a direction for ‘our pleasure’. Wasting no time, Barub places some coins down in front of a merchant selling oliphant ears cooked on a tower shield. This woman seems to have an endless appetite for both talk and food.

One gypsy woman offers me some sort of salt-based foot bath. I have to admit, the offer is intriguing, and it might offer me a chance to listen to local gossip. I suggest to the others we split up and see what we can find out before accepting. The foot bath proves to be a godsend, but I prove both too fascinated and too disgusted by the black ooze-like substance seemingly seeping out of the pores of my feet to notice any local chatter.

Embarassed by my inability to learn anything of use, I pay the women running the foot bath and return to the main pier and our meeting point. I’m the first to arrive, so I try to blend in while I wait. As the others trickle in, we compare notes to see what we’ve learned and strategize a way in to see Barvasi.

As the name Trinia comes up, a nosy patron butts into the conversation. “She must be guilty. They’ve already hanged the guard who admitted helping her.”

We shoo the man away, and though we’re concerned about being overheard the carousing is so loud we can hardly hear each other. It’s a wonder that man heard anything we said.

“I say we bribe the guards,” Emrisil says.

I look at the large boat where Barvasi awaits and wonder if there isn’t another approach we can take. On my suggestion, Zeph agrees to hang back a little while the rest of us approach the guards. If we’re unable to gain access, Zeph can try to sneak in another way.

“Halt,” says one of the guards as we approach. “The King of Spiders has no interest in visitors.”

“The King of Spiders may have interest in gold,” Saban says, eliciting a rubbing of the fingers from the guard who spoke. Saban hands over a few pieces of gold, but the guard seems unimpressed and Saban is forced to give more before the guards step aside. Zeph rushes to join us as we enter. I still wonder if we couldn’t have slipped in another way and saved those coins, but perhaps not.

The large room beyond was once a captain’s cabin but has been converted into some sort of bizarre throne room. The walls are thick with spider webs, which are in turn covered in spiders. Two oaken tables surrounded by chairs adorn the room along with a wooden stage at the aft end.

Upon the stage sits a large leather chair in which sits a tall man with short, black hair and warm, blue eyes. He wears black leather armor adorned with a spider-shaped baldric and a thick chain running criss-cross across his chest. Spiders scuttle across him and his chair.

An iron birdcage hangs from the chandelier in the center of the room. A miserable-looking purple dragon lies within. To the port side is an open door revealing a set of stairs leading down. Standing around the room looking like all they want to do is leave are six thuggish-looking individuals. One startles at the touch of a spider upon his neck.

The house drake hisses pitifully from above as we enter, “Help me. Release me.”

“Quiet you,” Barvasi says with a snarl.

Emrisil ignores the exchange and walks up to Barvasi. “We seek information on Amprei.”

Barvasi barely glances at her as he turns his attention to a spider perching upon his shoulder. “Who sent you?”

“We’re citizens seeking what’s best for Korvosa,” Emrisil says.

Barvasi seems unimpressed. “Sounds political.”

Saban takes out the pouch of coins offered to us by Vencarlo for bribe. This seems to attrack Barvasi’s attention.

“Interesting, but why should I help you?” he asks. “After all, I delight in troubling Amprei.”

I step up. “Amprei’s efforts would grant a stronger hold on the city for House Arkona. That could put your enterprise here in danger.”

He looks at me keenly. I don’t know if what I said is true, but it seems to work, at least a little.

“Very well,” he says. “I suppose I could be persuaded to help out.”

Saban offers him 750 gp, most of the bribe. Barvasi hefts it, then hands it to a nearby thug without counting it. “Not bad. I do have the information you seek, but I’ll need a bit more than that.” He lets his gaze wander over each of us for a moment, then adds, “Or some entertainment.”

Barub begins tap-dancing, causing everyone in the room to stare and momentarily be at a complete loss of words.

“I was thinking of something…else,” Barvasi says, though I detect a slight upturn on the corner of his lips. No one can say that wasn’t at least a little entertaining.

“Oh, I know,” Barub says. “How about some knivesies?”

What in the world is knivesies, I think, but do not say, especially since Barvasi’s eyes light up at the idea.

Barvasi barks some orders to his thugs who set up a table for one of them and Barub to stand on, along with some gold coins and a dagger. Neither is allowed to bring additional weapons with them, so Barub leaves hers with Emrisil. Barub and the thug stand at opposite sides. Barub snorts and digs in her heels as though preparing to charge. The thug looks mildly terrified.

“Go!” Barvasi yells out.

Barub and the thug charge and slam into each other. The thug proves tough enough to absorb the hit, spin around her and grab the dagger. Barub turns around and charges again. The thug swings at her with the dagger, misses badly, then takes the full brunt of Barub’s charge in the chest. He flies off the table and lands on the floor with an audible thud.

Barvasi yells at his thug, clearly displeased with his performance, while my companions stare at Barub flexing on the table. Seeing the gold, and thinking to recoup the losses of our bribe, I run to the table and scoop up as many as I can before the other guards jump in.

Barub clambers off the table as Barvasi walks up to congratulate her. “Fantastic! Never seen better. You know, I’m seeking additional enforcers for the House of Clouds. You could be a perfect fit.”

Barub declines the offer. Barvasi shrugs and summons four more thugs to keep watch as he descends into the lower levels of the ship. While we wait, Barub asks about the drake.

“He made Barvasi mad,” one of the thugs answers.

“My name is Majenko,” the drake says. “I’ll serve you for one year if you will free me.”

My heart aches for the drake, but I struggle to see a way to free it with so many enforcers in the room.

Barvasi soon returns, and recognizes our interest in the drake. “Interested? Five thousand gold.”

We don’t have five thousand gold.

“Why do you have it?” Barub asks.

Barvasi shrugs. “I like to torture it.”

“Why?”

“Does it matter?” Barvasi seems to bore of the conversation, and he holds aloft a stack of papers. “Now, on to business. Twice again what you paid me already and these are yours.”

“Twice again?” Emrisil says, clearly outraged.

“Of course, my dear paladin. That first payment was just to open negotiations.”

Emrisil fumes, but Saban steps up. “We already provided wonderful entertainment. That should be all the payment you need.”

Barvasi looks thoughtfully at him. “You have entertained me. Very well. Make it five hundred plus one item of value. That’s my final offer.”

None of us are pleased, but a quick huddle to discuss the matter leads to Zeph offering up the silver dagger retrieved in Verik’s office and the rest of us splitting the remaining funds. Zeph hands over the offer, and Barvasi hands us the papers.

As we turn to leave, Barvasi calls out, “The offer for the drake will stand for one week.”

Once outside, Zeph says the only way in seems to be the stairs from below, but Saban mentions we were on a trap door. We discuss the possibility of returning to free the drake. Saban doesn’t want to, though, so we table the discussion for after we bring the papers to Field Marshal Cressida.

Chapter 10 – The Painter

As we make our way through the streets of Korvosa, we are interrupted by a rumble followed soon by the explosion of the ground from below a nearby residence. Rocks and bricks rain down on nearby passersby as they dive for cover, including a young boy cowering not far from a tentacled beast emerging from the newly formed hole.

The creature clambers about on three legs, has a matching set of tentacles, and a wide mouth with sharp teeth and long tongues. I’ve heard stories of such creatures during my time searching for Yelena. Otyughs, I believe the locals call them. I’m surprised to see they’re as big, if not bigger, as a bear.

“So lost!” the creature bellows. I didn’t know they could speak. My surprise quickly turns to disgust, though, as the stench of sewage mixed with onions assaults my nostrils.

Zeph, seemingly nonplussed, nimbly moves forward, asking, “Where are you trying to get to?”

The creature examines him, though what could be coursing through its mind I can’t say. “Food tube,” it says, though whether in response or if that’s an assessment of what it thinks Zeph is, I’m uncertain. Either way, it lunges forward and tries to snap him in half with its jaws.

“I’m following!”

A second otyugh emerges, its eyes seemingly fixed on the young boy. Saban, Emrisil, and Barub move to engage the creatures, with Barub exclaiming, “Take on someone you’re own size!” I wonder, for a moment, just how big she thinks she is.

Not wanting to get anywhere near these creatures, I move around a building opposite where the creatures emerged and approach the young boy. I can hear a woman calling for “Little Bubba”, but I can’t tell from where. Perhaps that’s the boy’s name, but I see little chance of escape for him without intervention.

A baker wielding a long loaf of bread rushes into view and attempts to smack one of the otyughs. It does little more than momentarily distract the creature, but I take the opportunity to call for the boy and have him crawl behind me. The distracted otyugh takes notice, however, and lunges after us, smashing down walls as it goes. It strikes me with a tentacle, and rather than wait around for another hit, I grab the boy and make a run for it.

I run to a nearby fountain and put the boy down behind it before taking a peek at the battle. My companions seem to have gained the upper hand with Zeph plunging a dagger into the first otyugh’s brain. It shudders once and falls dead, but the second continues to chase after me and the boy.

With the first one down, Saban leads the charge to intercept the second. I send a blast of frost energy into the creature, shattering some of its teeth. It screams in rage. Barub screams back, but its Emrisil who is grabbed and picked up by the otyugh.

We take turns hitting the creature, me with my magic and the others with their weapons. Emrisil wrestles free of the creature’s grasp, and soon after, the creature is felled. The nearby crowd cheers, including the boy’s mother who is finally able to make her way safely over and reunite.

Before leaving, we make sure the crack is sealed us so no more creatures can follow. With that deed done, we hustle our way to Citadel Volshyenek and Field Marshal Croft.

“Thank the gods you’re here,” Cressida says when we arrive.

“Yes, but it cost us our own money,” Saban says, somewhat sourly.

Cressida frowns, but offers us a reward and a new mission.

“You’ve doubtless heard the stories that the king’s killer has been named,” she begins. We all nod in agreement, having learned that information at Eel’s End. “There’s something more going on here, I’m afraid. Queen Ileosa could have quietly had this Trinia Sabor arrested at any time, yet the way in which she revealed the information to the city seems to me like she wants the riots to come back. Certainly, with the mob and the Hellknights out on the street, the girl doesn’t stand a chance at a trial—they’ll lynch her the moment they find her. And even if she did kill the king, mob justice isn’t the way. Worse, if she’s innocent, the real killer can use this distraction to throw us off the trail forever.“

Guilty or not, I agree with Cressida. She should have a fair trial.

“Before Trinia is executed, we need to be absolutely sure she did this thing. And that means we need to catch her before the mob does. We know where she lives—a flat in Midland at 42 Moon Street—but soon, so will everyone else. The Hellknights don’t seem to care as much about catching her as they do about containing the mob—something about the ‘order of law’ makes it a greater priority for them to contain than a possible assassin. I can’t say I disagree completely, but the problem is, the Hellknights are only making it worse. The mob’s covering most of Midland now, and Trinia’s flat is near the middle of the mess. I’ve got all available guards at work keeping things from getting any worse—and if I were to send them into Midland, they’d trigger a riot.”

Easy to see where this is going.

“I need you to get into Midland, find Trinia, and bring her back to me so we can deliver her, safe and sound, to somewhere she can be interrogated—preferably with magic, so we can be absolutely sure about her role in Eodred’s death. Get in there, catch her, and get out without letting the mob get its hands on her. I’ll have agents and officers nearby. If you can get her to one of them, we’ll be in the clear. Any questions?”

The job is simple enough, so we take a few minutes to rest before setting out. We make our way to Moon Street via some narrow side streets so as to avoid the mobs and Hellknights. Hellknights aren’t known for being the most distinguishing when it comes to arrests.

Her flat proves to be in a densely populated area below the slum level known as the Shingles. A bored-looking woman sits on the stairs while an older man sweeps and some kids sit playing a game with marbles.

Saban, Emrisil, and Barub approach the man, but I think we might have better luck with the kids. Zeph lingers behind, seemingly checking out all possible routes in and out of the area.

I approach the kids with a gold piece in hand and say, “We’re looking for someone known as the Painter. She’s in grave danger, and we’re here to help.”

One of the kids, the biggest of the group, snatches the gold piece and says, “I’ll go get her.”

As he charges up the stairs, I look over at the others engaged with the man who is now flailing his arms about and murmuring something unintelligible.

I feel a sense of smugness that quickly dissipates when I hear the kid rattling a stick against the guardrail on the upper level of the flat. I rush up.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

He holds out his hand. I give him another gold. He says, “You should go away now.”

Rotten kids.

Still, my efforts are not completely without success. I notice the kid is focusing his rattling in front of the doors marked 13, 14, and 15. I’m in the process of deciding which one to try when Saban suddenly joins me. Luckily, he came up before Barub who somehow managed to break the stairs in an effort to reach us. Emrisil appears to still be negotiating with the sweeper, and Zeph has moved around to the rear of the building.

“Let’s try this one,” I say to Saban, pointing to number fourteen. Saban knocks on the door while I call out, “Trinia, we’re here under orders from Field Marshal Cressida Croft. We’re here to help.”

No answer comes from within, and the door is locked. Emrisil, having apparently tired of the old man, joins us and pushes the door open. Some loose furniture blocking the path beyond proves little deterrent to the muscle-bound paladin.

Beyond is a one-room flat with all the amenities of a bedroom, kitchen, and studio. The easel sitting in the far corner with a half-finished painting of an imp and pseudodragon in battle atop a church steeple suggests we’ve come to the right place. Below a single window lies a bed, and under the sheets we see the outline of a woman curled up.

“No, no,” the woman cries, rather pathetically I think. Hard to imagine someone like her being an assassin.

“It’s just an illusion,” Saban says, whipping the sheets off to reveal nothing below.

Chagrined, I rush to the window and look out to see Trinia running along the Shingles, already three houses ahead.

“There she goes!” I yell out, and we all climb through the window, except Zeph whom I see below.

The Shingles, in my experience, is a tangled, confusing maze of multiple levels, bridges, ropes and clutter. Even with the athletic abilities of my companions, I fear we may be too late to catch Trinia, who almost certainly knows the layout better than we do. Even so, we have little choice but to give chase.

Barub bursts forward, squeezing through a narrow hole then muscling her way through a tangle of debris. I follow behind, albeit at a slower pace, while Saban and Emrisil lag behind. Zeph joins us on the second roof and manages to clear the debris for the rest of us. Next up is a gap, which I manage to jump across and a burst of stirges. I blast the annoying insect-like creatures with a spray of cold energy from my hands and send them flying off.

The others continue to advance, but I focus my attention on my own advancement while keeping one eye on Trinia’s. So far, she remains a few houses ahead, but doesn’t seem to be putting additional distance between us. I continue to navigate crumbling rooftops, drain spiders, and debris, but get no closer to reaching Trinia. To my surprise, however, Barub discovers a shortcut across a tightrope to cut off Trinia’s escape. In true Barub fashion, she lunges for the painter and tackles her, pinning her until the rest of us can arrive.

We gather around her triumphantly. “We’ll give you a fair trial,” Emrisil says.

Trinia seems more angry than upset at her capture. She argues she’s been set up. We question her further, and while she explains some background, notably growing up at Scrapper Hall Orphanage, she doesn’t divulge much in the way of how she was set up.

“I know you’re holding something back,” I say.

She looks away. “I don’t want your help.”

We decide to hand her over to Cressida’s guards who give us a small reward for our efforts. From there, we separate, agreeing to meet back up after getting some much needed rest.

Chapter 11 – Return to Eel’s End

Late the next morning we reconvene at the Three Rings Tavern for a late breakfast. There we decide to return to Eel’s End in an effort to free Majenko, Barvasi’s house drake. Saban disagrees with the idea, but is out-voted and reluctantly follows us back to Eel’s End. Zeph forges a letter from Amprei to Barvasi he intends to leave at Eel’s End to throw suspicion off us.

Eel’s End proves significantly less festive during the day, but an alarmingly large number of people lie asleep on deck and we don’t dare try to sneak by them. Instead, we pay a small fee to rent a boat and row up next to Barvasi’s ship at the end of the pier where we discover a large hole in the hull we can use to make egress. Inside, we discover a partially collapsed cargo bay with a pair of doors leading deeper into the ship.

“I still don’t like this,” Saban grumbles as he approaches one of the doors. If not for the thought of freeing an innocent house drake I might agree with him. The thick humidity of this chamber is already soaking into my clothes.

Saban reports the sounds of water sloshing around, but no identifiable creatures within. Barub opens the door to reveal the bilge flooded with murky water at least two feet deep. There are no obvious exits from the room, but Saban and I, more familiar with ships than the others, spy a trap door in the ceiling. Thin streams of webbing, likely from some kind of spider, hang from the door.

Eager to reach the trap door, Barub sloshes into the water, and is immediately attacked by three reef claws. These creatures seem to be everywhere. We go on the attack, and just as I’m about to summon a magical ray of cold energy, I double over in pain. The world spins around me, blurring my vision. I force my focus on one of the reef claws and blast it with magical energy. I manage two more shots before the battle ends. No one seems any worse for wear in the aftermath.

Emrisil examines me and determines I’ve picked up filth fever, likely from the Otyugh who struck me. I shudder at what it might cost to heal the malady, but apply some liniment I keep in my backpack for such an occasion. I begin to feel a little better, but I know it’s only temporary, but hopefully it will last long enough to get me through this rescue mission.

While the others debate how to reach the trap door above, I decide to try out a new spell I discovered. With some arcane words and some hand gestures, the trap door opens, releasing clumps of spiders into the water below. They don’t appear able to swim, and everyone is thankful they didn’t get a face full of them by opening the door manually.

“Thanks, Iduna,” Barub says cheerfully. “I’ll climb up and drop down a rope.”

She clambers up one of the posts and slips through the trap door.

“Lot’s of spider webs up here,” she reports before dropping the rope down. The rest of us follow her up.

The room is dark, so Zeph lights a sunrod, revealing a chamber riddled with webs and dozens of bones, many of which appear from a humanoid source.

“Cozy,” Zeph says.

Emrisil steps forward, and her foot sinks into a soft patch. A mummified husk falls on her from the ceiling, a swarm of spiders exploding from it on impact.

“Get ’em off! Get ’em off!” she cries.

Saban attempts to punch at the spiders, but he seems to do as much damage to Emrisil as the spiders. I cast a spell to dump water over Emrisil, figuring she can’t get much wetter, and the spiders are washed away.

Emrisil, looking mostly displeased, shakes herself off. She seems otherwise unharmed and declines a dose of antitoxin from Zeph.

We examine the rest of the room. Saban fleetingly notices a humanoid shape scuttling in one corner. We also discover another trap door we think leads to Barvasi’s throne room. Barub climbs up to the trap door, but before she can open it, some much larger blue and purple striped spiders jump out from the shadows and attack.

I notice in my periphery Emrisil step into another trap as some webbing grabs her around the neck and pulls her up. There’s little I can do in the moment, though, as I’m faced with a spider problem of my own. I blast the creature with a spread of freezing cold energy, but the spider survives and bites me. Pain seeps into my bones, the world begins to fade and I fall to the ground unconscious.

When I awaken, it’s like the light of the heavens have called to me. Emrisil, seemingly having been freed from the noose, leans over me, a concerned expression on her face.

“You all right?” she asks.

My head hurts almost as much as my pride, but I smile appreciatively and accept a hand up.

“Yes, thanks. Are we clear to continue? I’m starting to wonder if Saban might have been right.”

Zeph nods in the direction of a strange purple creature that might appear human if not for the spider face and sickle-like claws. “He found us entertaining enough to let us pass through without further interference.”

“It can talk?” I ask.

“Apparently so,” Zephs says.

We climb up through the trap door to find the throne room empty except for Majenko. With a little work, we manage to free him. He promises to serve us for one year in return for his release, but requests one day to settle his affairs. Zeph leaves behind the false letter, and we quickly retreat back the way we came before anyone can spot us.

Still feeling unwell, I excuse myself from the group and seek out the temple of Sarenrae, but it proves to be closed due to the continuing tensions in the city. I begin to develop a fever and aching joints so I return home in the hope some rest will do me good. When I awaken, it’s the next day and I feel even worse. Forcing one foot in front of the other, and hoping I don’t get assaulted in this condition, I make my way back out and down to the nearest market. There, a street physician seems to take pity on me.

“Oh, dear. You look quite unwell,” he says, reaching deep into his pockets for a was-sealed test-tube covered in spider webs. The reminder of spiders makes my stomach churn, but the seal bears the mark of Pharasma, so I’m inclined to believe its legitimacy. He asks for six hundred fifty gold pieces, which feels like a lot, but with little other choice, I hand over the coins and take the potion.

A fitful night of rest follows taking the potion, and I feel both much stronger and hungrier. I grab a bite to eat from the rations stored in my apartment then head back out to the shops. I have much less to spend, but want to pick up a crossbow and some healing potions. I realize I still have a wand yet to be identified, but after my various purchases I have little money left and decide to hold off a little longer.

As day turns to night, I return once again to Three Rings Tavern for a warm meal and the hopes of meeting up with my new companions.

Chapter 12 – A Plea From Thousand Bones

The following day we’re summoned once again by Cressida Kroft to Citadel Volshyneck. We arrive at mid-day per the request. A sense of unrest lingers in the air, and the citadel guards seem agitated. One of them stares daggers at Barub and murmers something racist under his breath as we pass. I can’t tell if she notices or not for the smile that seems permanently plastered upon her face remains firm.

Inside the office, Cressida is not alone. Beside her is an elderly Shoanti gentleman, rail-thin and leaning heavily upon a walking stick. Cressida introduces him as Thousand Bones, a Way-Keeper from the skull clan. Barub seems impressed, but the title means little to me.

Cressida goes on to explain that recent tensions have turned to violence in some parts of the city that has damaged relations between Korvosa and the Shoanti. When Thousand Bones speaks, he does so with a deep voice and barely restrained anger.

“My people have worked hard to understand yours,” he begins, notably overlooking Barub as he stresses the word your. “Yet it seems each day we see new examples of how your people work just as hard to foster old hatreds. My grandson is dead, beaten to death by cowards in your city street. I do not blame you, yet still Gaekhen is dead, and my son and his kin are not so forgiving as I. They wish to return to the Skoan-Quah in the Cinderlands, to join with the Sklar-Quah and rally to war against Korvosa. This would be disastrous, for both our peoples. Amends must be made.

“Our ways are not as yours. If a body does not go whole to the fires of the gods, the smoke of a warrior’s spirit cannot rise to the Great Sky. If I could send Gaekhen’s body to the Great Sky with honor and dignity, his father and brothers would listen to me and stay their wrath—the talks of peace between my people and yours can continue. But he was not just murdered. His body was taken from the scene of his death, sold by a peddler of corpses to a necromancer named Rolth, a criminal to both our people. I have spoken with the spirits, and they have revealed to me that Gaekhen’s body has been taken to a place below your boneyard, a place the spirits call the Dead Warrens.

“With this knowledge, I could surely lead a group of my finest warriors into your boneyard to retrieve Gaekhen’s body, but this would be seen as an act of aggression by your people. No, it falls to you to make amends for what has been done. You must bring me Gaekhen’s body, lest we be forced to recover him ourselves. And although it pains my heart to say it—we will not be gentle if it comes to this.”

Thousand Bones doesn’t wait for our acknowledgement, and instead nods curtly to Cressida and departs.

I understand his pain all too well. As a foreigner in Korvosa, I’ve never truly felt I belong, though I suppose I’ve never really felt I belonged anywhere, even back home. My sister was taken from me early by the same sort of people who killed Gaekhen. I won’t be able to bring him back to Thousand Bones alive, but I vow to do my best to bring him some measure of peace.

“What can we expect to find in these Dead Warrens?” I ask Cressida.

“Korvosa’s Gray District is riddled with underground chambers,” she explains. “Some of them burrowed by ghouls or other monsters, others remnants of ancient Shoanti burial grounds. Some of these warrens are patrolled and kept clear of monsters by the church of Pharasma, yet the Gray District is a large place and the tunnels below are vast and tangled. The Pharasmen focus on containing the problems with undead and necromancers, but as soon as they wipe out one, it seems as if two are ready to spring up in its place. The problem’s particularly vexing in Potter’s Ward, where the bodies of the poor and homeless are buried. According to Thousand Bones, the Dead Warrens were one of his people’s burial vaults, chambers that lie under Potter’s Ward.”

“Who is this Rolth?” Emrisil asks.

“He’s long been a thorn in my side. A failed Academae student, Rolth was expelled after the true nature of his experiments were revealed. He was butchering vagrants, stray animals, and anything else he could get his hands on to try to build some sort of golem from their collected parts. The Academae didn’t press charges because it didn’t want to cause a scene—it just quietly expelled him and the man’s been trouble ever since. We suspect he’s responsible for nearly a dozen slayings, each involving mutilation to the body, but to date we haven’t been able to find him or locate his lair. He might or might not be in the Dead Warrens, but anything you can find there that could lead to his arrest would be greatly appreciated.”

“Sounds like a monster,” I say.

“Indeed he is, just like his father Gaedren Lamm. We’re still looking for him, too, but right now our focus needs to be Rolth.”

I exchange looks with my companions, then say, “Gaedren’s dead.”

Cressida looks for confused for a moment, then turns her gaze to each of us in turn. “I see,” she says, eyes flitting about as though searching for eavesdroppers. “Let’s not speak of this again.”

She goes on to describe Ghaeken as a teenager with short brown hair and a distinctive scar from a firepelt’s claw upon his left cheek. A man named Elkaris who delivererd the body to Potter’s Ward was captured and questioned, but revealed only the location of the delivery.

“Is there anything else before you depart?” Cressida asks.

“Does anyone have any holy water?” Emrisil asks.

Cressida shakes her head no. “You may be able to get some at the shrine near the ward’s entrance.”

We thank Cressida and make our way to Potter’s Ward. A wall surrounds Potter’s Ward, granting access only through a small gate, next to which stands a small shrine to Pharasma. A bedraggled old man stands next to it attending to anyone seeking guidance or tools for dealing with the undead.

“Yes?” he asks with agitation as we approach.

“We’re heading inside to take a look around and clear out some undead,” Emrisil announces. Zeph raises an eyebrow at this, perhaps thinking she’d be more discreet. “Have you any holy water to aid our efforts?”

After a fair amount of haggling, the man seels us several blessings, vials for the otherwise free holy water and some charms to ward off skull squirrels. I have no idea what a skull squirrel is, but it doesn’t sound like something I want to encounter. The man also attempts to sell us a tombstone for when one of us dies, but we politely decline. Saban seems mildly insulted, but doesn’t say anything.

We pass through the gate, and Zeph almost immediately notices tracks left by a wheelbarrow. We follow them to a mausoleum matching the description Elkaris gave for the delivery point. In addition, there are several child-sized tracks around the area, but we aren’t certain who or what they might belong to. Even Saban seems a little confused as they don’t quite match up with halfling feet.

The entrance to the mausoleum is filled with dust and grime.

“I don’t think the guards come more than once a month to clear it out,” Zeph says.

A blue glow from a mold growing on the walls lights our way down a narrow set of stairs into a large room supported by four wide pillars. The ceiling arches in a high dome, and the walls are lined with skeletons caked in mud. Pits lie to either side, and an opening across the way leads south. Years of travel aboard a ship have gained me a sharp sense of direction that seems to work even underground.

I hang back while the others explore the room. Zeph points out the small foot prints here matching those outside. They seem to run back and forth, but don’t go near the southern exit. Saban is following one set to the eastern pit when suddenly several clusters of bones come to life as walking skeletons and attack him. On the other side of the room, the bones form in a single large creature of unknown origin.

Zeph and Barub engage the larger skeleton while Saban is hounded by the three smaller ones. I try to blast one of Saban’s but miss. Fleetingly, I wonder if my ice magic will even harm them. Emrisil rushes over to join Zeph and Barub but trips in an effort to jump down into the pit.

The fighting continues, Zeph switching sides to help out Saban when it becomes obvious my magic is of no use here, and soon we have all the skeletons back down. Barub suffered some minor damage, but otherwise we came out of it in good shape.

A search of the large skeleton’s lair reveals an opening to a small tunnel rank with the stink of sweat and mud. Saban is the only one who can fit, so he takes a look. Upon his return a short while later, he reports having encountered a junction and hearing the sounds of chittering. We decide to move cautiously along the southern passage with Emrisil and Saban leading the way, followed by Zeph and Barub and me taking up the rear.

We quickly come to an intersection where chittering sounds direct us to the right. We come to a cave-like room adorned with four filthy straw pallets and a low table. Seated at the table are two demented looking halflings with pale blue skin. They turn to face us as we enter, but their eyes seem to look eveywhere except at us.

“Excuse me,” Emrisil says, ever the diplomat. “Have you seen a body get carried through here?”

One of the creatures holds up a rat that was seemingly part of whatever game they were playing, and much to my disgust, appears to still be alive. The other grabs his crossbow and says, “You do not possess the sampo,” then fires.

The bolt clinks off Emrisil’s armor, leaving behind some sticky residue, but before the rest of us can act, the room goes dark. I suspect these creatures possess some innate magical abilities. Next to me, I hear Zeph rummaging through his backpack muttering something about where he may have left his torch. The others sound as though they are attempting to move forward through the darkness. I imagine the room as I saw it, and cast a spell that provides a brief glimmer of light.

The creatures have moved, but they aren’t quiet and my companions manage to take them down without too much fuss. A few minutes later, the darkness ends and we’re able to see once again. We search about the room, but the only thing of any real interest is another small passage. Saban declines to enter this time. Interestingly, Emrisil discovers a small trinket inside one of the pallets. It’s round and heavy as well as square and reasonably light. Scrawled upon its surface are the letters “Sampo”. We determine the item is significantly unimportant, and Emrisil puts it in her pocket.

We head back the way we came and head down the other path to a room adorned with three wooden tables stained red and a hutch with wicker doors. A female version of these chittering creatures appears to be deep in the throes of some sort of ceremony and is singing a variety of offensive sounding lyrics while inserting some kind of proboscis into a corpse. My stomach turns at the thought it might be Ghaeken.

“Stop what you’re doing,” Emrisil says, displaying the Sampo.

“I think these are derro,” Zeph says, one finger tapping his chin as he thinks. “Pretty sure they’re supposed to be insane.”

The derro, or whatever she is, looks at Emrisil and repeats her words back to her. She then leaps to the hutch, throws open the door and releases two stirges into the room. She cackles gleefully as they attack us and Zeph throws alchemical fire at them. Her cackle turns to a surprised yelp when Barub rushes up and hits with her greatsword.

Just as Saban and Emrisil down the two stirges, the room goes dark. I cast another flare into the room and a moment later, I hear the derro’s shrieking laughter come to an abrupt end. We wait for the darkness to clear before going about our search of the room. I check out the corpse on the table, which is being feasted upon by more stirges, and am relieved to discover it’s not Ghaeken. Even so, we dispatch the stirges. No one needs to suffer that indignity.

Saban finds a vial of some sort of ichor among the derro’s belongings. Zeph thinks it might be an exotic drug. There are two additional exit from this room. We briefly check the one going west which leads to a chamber filled mostly with a nasty-looking stretch of mud that reeks of death and body parts. In my head, I dub it the “Chamber of Eternal Stench” and am quick to retreat.

The east passage leads to a north-south corridor lined with dozens of yawning skulls set into the walls. I hang back while the others work their way to the northern end where another door marks the way forward. A spray of acid from the skulls hits everyone in the corridor, except Saban who somehow managed to dodge it. Zeph looks around for what triggered the apparent trap, but cannot find it.

I enter the corridor, hopeful the trap will take time to reset and move to follow. A sudden, chilling presence comes up behind me. I turn to find a large skeletal creature with the body of a snake lunging at me.

Chapter 13 – Gaekhen’s Remains

I fall backwards with a yelp of surprise, barely avoiding the creature’s venemous fangs. Zeph moves in to take my place, brandishing a dagger. The creature sways hypnotically, and as I back away I’m able to get a better look at it. It appears to be more of a construct than anything undead, and am hopeful my frost magic will be more effective against it.

My companions move to surround it, further distancing me from the creature. I wait for an opportunity to strike and fire a ray of frost at it. As I’d hoped, the ray bites into its bones and the creature even seems to slow just a little. The creature sways again, and this time manages to draw Barub into its gaze. She sways back and forth with it, and before anyone can shake her out of it, the creature sinks its teeth into her. I blast it again with another ray of frost, and this time the creature drops. Emrisil rushes to Barub and summons the healing power of Iomedae to mend her wounds.

“Let’s keep moving,” I say. “We don’t want to linger here.”

Saban agrees and hurres to open the door. In the chamber beyond are two wooden tables stacked with vials, beakers and other alchemical gear stand in the middle of the room and a set of three large cauldrons, one of which has been upended and is spilling its foul, rancid contents onto the floor. Another derro stands here pouring liquid from one flask to another and back again while babbling nonsense.

Saban rushes in and smacks the derro with his kama. It spews some sort of liquid from its mouth, splashing Saban who seems more disgusted than injured. I move in, arcane words lingering on my lips waiting for the derro to cast magical darkness. Zeph rushes past me and tosses an acid flask at the derro who seems to revel in the pain it causes. Emrisil and Barub join the fray, and a final blow from Emrisil kills the creature. At the moment death, however the creature explodes, showering my companions with bits of dead derro.

While they attempt to clean themsevles off, I examine the room. There’s a passage to the east and a boarded up door to the south. I neither hear nor see any signs of more creatures, so we start to think about getting some rest before continuing. Zeph gathers up some alchemical gear and I exchange one of my healing potions for a more potent one.

Then there’s a banging on the souther door. We turn to look. Dust falls from the door. Silence hangs heavy in the air, then another bang. It sounds like a creature it trying to knock the door down. Emrisil removes the boards blocking the door then steps back, sword at the ready. On the next bang, the door swings open and a gross amalgamation of dead body parts lurches through the doorway, flailing.

Emrisil strikes at the creature, then backs up to allow more room for our companions to surround it, and we fall into our familiar routine. While the other four surround and smack, I pick it off with ranged attacks. My frost magic proves useless, so I switch to my new crossbow.

“What was that thing?” Emrisil asks.

“A poorly stitched together golem,” I say, then point at an object still in the creature’s grasp. “And look there. A tattooed arm.”

Emrisil grabs the arm, and it appears to match the description given us regarding Ghaekhen. A gruesome find, but at least now we know we’re looking for parts of a body rather than the whole.

Finding the room unsuitable for rest, we continue along the east passage to a juncture heading north and south. We choose south first. The foul-smelling cavern it leads to is bordered on three sides by deep pits from which emanate a rancid smell of decay and sounds of muffled crying.

“Rolth give Cabbagehead big reward for your head.” The creature speaking is a hideous looking humanoid figure who stands guard within the room. He reminds me of a creature my father once pointed out on an unforunate stop in a city in Thuvia. An ogrekin I think he called it. “You go in cage,” the creature seemingly named Cabbaghead continues. “Maybe feed you later.”

Cabbagehead lumbers forward and attacks Emrisil with a malformed fist. Saban steps up and hits Cabbagehead, much to his surprise. Emrisil swings and misses, but steps aside to allow Zeph to tumble through and get on the other side of Cabbagehead. I lash out with some magic, but Barub bumps into me in her haste to step up and my spell splashes against the ceiling.

“Rolth put your head on a pike,” Cabbagehead says to Barub as they trade blows.

I decide to save my magic as my four companions have him surrounded. Emrisil’s swing nearly hits Saban, throwing him off balance, but Zeph and Barub both hit.

“Cabbagehead may go down, but why you hit yourself?” Cabbagehead seems truly confused, and Saban’s kama ultimately takes him down.

“Hello?” A weak voice calls from the pit. I rush over to investigate. A woman, malnourished and frightened, looks up with pleading eyes. “Help!” Next to her, a man lies unconscious, but breathing.

I call my companions over, and the strength of Barub alone is enough to pull their cage up. The woman introduces herself as Tiora.

“Can you get us out of here? I can’t get Lewan up, and he’s too heavy for me to carry.”

Emrisil asks if they’ve met a man named Rolth.

“No,’ Tiora says, “I was taken from the city just a few days ago. Lewan was already here, but didn’t mention anyone named Rolth before he passed out.”

She offers to repay us for helping, but we would have anyway. Since we haven’t yet cleared the place out or found all of Ghaeken just yet, we tell her to lie low until we’ve finished our work. We especially don’t want her traveling through the skull trap corridor without an escort.

Saban checks out a narrow passage leading east from the chamber, but after a short distance it turns black and impossible to navigate. We decide to leave it alone and head back north past the juncture. This leads to a room stinking of decay and chemicals enough to turn the stomach. The smell seems to emanate from a stitched-together corpse lying on a table. We move up to examine the body and discover Ghaeken’s head sewn to a different torso.

After some discussion, Barub saws the head off with her sword, and Zeph places the head into a new magical sack she picked up, along with Ghaeken’s arm. A room to the north proves to be a bed room complete with a four-poster bed, writing desk, and full length mirror. There’s no one here, so we search around. Our most interesting find is a knife with a key-shaped blade reminiscent of one Gaedren owned.

A door to the east leads to another bedroom, this one occupied by a floating derro, and a snarling creature we all immediately recognize.

“Gaedren?” Barub asks, seemingly confused for the creature is Gaedren brought back to unlife as a zombie.

“I am Vreeg of the Sampo,” the derro announces while we are stare in amazement at the scene before us. “You all shall die!” With this proclamation, he tears something off his robes and tosses it to the ground. From there, a skeletal creature the size of a giant rises and moves to block the entrance.

We consider, for a moment, simply closing the door, but Zeph notices a torso and arm sitting on a bench within the room that undoubtedly belongs to Ghaeken.

Emrisil summons magic from Iomedae to grant us aid in battle while the undead creatures advance. I pull out my crossbow and wait for an opportunity. As Gaedren’s lumbering corpse comes into view, I fire, but the bolt sinks into his flesh and does no real damage. Whatever magic was keeping it alive, however, appears to be impermanent as the creature hits Emrisil once then dissipates into nothingness.

Another zombie appears, this one fashioned after a goblin. Emrisil has taken some damage and drops back to secure a potion from me. I oblige even has a spectral hand reaches out and smacks her.

Knowing we need to get into the room and engage the spellcaster, I set my sights on the creature blocking the entrance. With a few arcane words, I summon a blast of water and push the creature back. Seizing the opportunity, Barub and Saban rush in. Emrisil steps up and channels some divine energy.

The battle continues with more skeletons and zombies appearing seemingly from nowhere to cause additional mayhem. I try to blast Vreeg with some cold magic, but whether I hit or not is hard to tell through the all the bodies. Finally, we work our way into the room only for Vreeg to fly out and nearly escape.

Another large zombie appears to block our efforts to chase him down. I cast another spell to push it back, but it holds firm. Saban moves up to hit it while Emrisil channels divine energy again to heal the injured. I try again with my spell and this time succeed. Everyone pours through the opening past the zombie. More skeletons appear, but just as Vreeg appears about to escape for good, Zeph throws some kind of bag at him and it explodes with vines and roots to pin him in place.

I summon more magic, this time a spread of burning frost, to eliminate a skelatal wolf and damage Vreeg. Saban takes down the remaining large zombie and at last Vreeg seems to run out of tricks as we surround him and take him down.

We collect the torso from the other room, and I take Vreeg’s robe. It seems to have a few patches still remaining after all. There’s also a wand with a wolf motiff I stick into my backpack. I now have two wands to identify.

We finish our search of the place, including one more room that turns out to be a library dedicated to necromancy. I find a scroll that seems useful, but there’s no sign of Rolth. We collect Tiora and her friend, and make our way back toward the entrance, stopping only to wait for Zeph to disable the skull traps.

With Ghaken’s legs still missing, we return to the Chamber of Eternal Stench to look throught the debris. A wretched looking Otyugh rises from the muck to attack, but having faced these creatures before we find the battle easier to handle this time around. We take the creature down, secure the final pieces of Ghaeken and make a hasty retreat from the Dead Warrens.

Chapter 14 – The (Attempted) Execution of Trinia Sabor

We bring Ghaeken back to Cressida who promises to handle the delicate prospects of seeing the body delivered properly to Thousand Bones. After the body is taken away, she turns sad eyes upon us.

“You should probably know,” she says, taking a deep breath. “Trinia Sabor has been sentenced to public execution.”

We let out a collective gasp.

“There’s going to be quite the crowd, and we’ll need some extra bodies to maintain the peace.” Cressida looks at us meaningfully.

I take no pleasure in the thought of her execution, but it seems the least I can do to keep it from becoming a fiasco. We agree, then go our separate ways to rest up before the event.

On Trinia’s execution day, I make my way down to Castle Korvosa around mid-day. The execution itself is to take place later that night, but Cressida wanted us there early. I avoid mingling and instead watch for any signs of miscontent. Nothing seems out of place, and by the time the sun is about to set, a single large drum portends the arrival of Trinia, in shackles, and of Queen Ileosa herself.

“Fellow Korvosans!” Queen Ileosa draws all eyes to her from perch upon a raised dais. ” You have suffered greatly these past few weeks. Homes have burned, family members have died, fortunes have been lost. I feel your suffering, for not only have I lost a beloved husband, but with each riot, each burning home, each act of anarchy, my heart bleeds a little more. This has been a trying time for us, yet the torment is at an end. Before you is the face of your anguish and pain.” She flourishes her arms and looks pointedly toward Trinia who is now held down, her head in the headman’s block.

“Do not be deceived by this murderer’s timid nature,” Ileosa continues, he voice filled with malice. “She is a black-hearted assassin, a seductress and sinner, a viper amidst us all. I offer you all her death as a salve against the hatred and hurt you have suffered. Her death will not rebuild Korvosa, nor will it bring back the king, yet tomorrow will be a new dawn—a dawn over a city ready to rise from the edge of anarchy to become stronger than ever before!”

She turns to soak in cheers of adulation from the crowd, a smile formed upon he lips. “And so, without further delay, let us usher in this new dawn with justice!” Her face turns grim, as she exclaims, “OFF WITH HER HEAD!”

I can’t help but feel a sense of injustive as the headsman hefts his axe, but before he can bring it down to remove Trinia’s head, he grunts with pain and staggers back. One hand reaches to his back and comes back dripping with blood. He grunts again and falls to his knees, the axe slamming into the wood next to Trinia’s head.

“By the gods! It’s Blackjack!”

I don’t know who shouted, but an instant later, a man dressed in a hooded cloak and leather armor springs onto the executioner’s block. With a rapier in one hand and a dagger in the other, he slices through Trinia’s bonds.

“Yes indeed, my queen! Let us usher in justice, but let that be justice for Korvosa, not this shambles you petulantly call a monarchy!” The figure named Blackjack speaks to the crowd as much as to the Queen. “Long live Korvosa! Down with the Queen!”

The executioner reaches for his axe. It seems Blackjack doesn’t notice, so I quietly murmer some magic and blast the executioner with some frost magic. Blackjack startles for a moment, then seems to catch my eye as he realizes what happened. He gives a slight nod of thanks, grabs Trinia, drinks a potion, and leaps away.

His words are being chanted now by the crowd and Queen Ileosa is fuming. Beside her, Sabina shouts orders to capture Blackjack, but the guards can’t get through the crowd and Blackjack is already away. Hoping to avoid any unpleasant business, I slip away from the crowd and back out onto the street.

In the days that follow, the city is, understandably, awash with wild rumors, speculation, and nervous energy. There are a few mentions of a magical blast that hit the executioner, but as far as I can tell, everyone seems to think Blackjack himself is the cause. Not wanting to draw attention to myself, I go along with this theory.

Over the next couple days, I decide to check in on Yelena over in Scrapper Hall. Yelena is doing well, but it turns out that the dwarven proprietress, Bilna Drankdeep, is just taking a meal break when I arrive. She catches my attention as I’m about to depart, and asks if I’ll join her for lunch. We find our way to a small tavern down the street.

“You’re from Irrisen, aren’t you?” She asks me as we sit down to eat. “I recognize those Jadwigan features. Served some time up thereaways as a member of the Order.”

I look at her curiously. I’m actually from Halgrim in the Ironbound Isles, but my mother is from Irrisen. I don’t know her lineage, but perhaps I look more like her than I thought.

She goes on to describe her time serving as a Maralictor, a mid-level Hellknight officer, for the Order of the Nail, dedicated to quelling savagery in the frontier. “To defend civilization, you have to have a good offense at the edges, where it counts!” While she won’t talk about it, I gets the sense she had some kind of falling out with the Order, as she makes it clear she has severed most of her ties. 

“Besides, the Order’s a nest of politics and strange notions these days anyway. Why, just recently I heard they’re allowing perfectly good Hellknights to leave the Order and become recruits in some kind of new militia. Funny thing, though, they only accept strong, charismatic women. No men, no shrinking violets, if you know what I mean. Like I said, strange notions.”

She brings the conversation to the recent failed execution. “Hmmph. I smell conspiracy. Wouldn’t be half-surprised if that Queen was up to some sort of plot. Maybe even colluding with Blackjack himself. Har! That would be the laugh. Imagine if the whole thing was just a big ‘ol farce, just to stir things up or give an excuse to reorganize. She’s canny, I think. I can’t put my finger on it, but I’d bet on her in any normal political squabble, for sure!”

Bilna seems pleased to have had the opportunity for conversation with someone outside the orhpanage. I suspect she doesn’t get out much.

“Yer sister’s a good worker. Never complains, does what she ought to, stays in line but she’s no follower neither. There may be a place for her in the Order someday down the road, leastways if she ever manages to put some muscle on those damn skinny arms.” Bilna gives me an assessing look, and appears disappointed. “Must run in the family” she murmurs. I smile in spite of the apparent insult.

Despite the rough edges, the rest of the meal is enjoyable, and I find it enjoyable to connect with someone who knows a bit about Irrisen. Bilna pays for the food, and there’s a mutual feeling that another lunch such as this might not be a terrible proposition.

Pathfinder Curse of the Crimson Throne Campaign Notes

Setting: The city of Korvosa, in the region of Varisia, world of Golarion, CE 4708

Player Character Roster

The First Harrow – performed by Zellara Esmeranda

Locations of Note

Zellara’s home Midland: High Bridge, very near West Dock.

High Bridge is a residential district primarily inhabited by fisherman, laborers and the families of those employed in the Korvosan Guard or the Sable Company. Saban Stonefoot [Karl] and Emrisil Sorira [Leo] are renting here.
Places of Interest: Citadel Volshynek (Headquarters of the Korvosan Guard), Eodred’s Square, Gold Market (largest open-air market in Korvosa), Eodred’s Walk (14 artisinal shops), Creaky Hammock (tavern), Pestico’s Dolls & Figurines (curiosity shop)

Gaedren’s hideout Midland: West Dock, north of High Bridge on the Jeggare River, downslope from Bookmaker (Korvosa’s largest bookshop )

West Dock is a rugged neighborhood consisting of warehouses and food processing buildings. Gaedren can purportedly be found at Pier 17, in an old fishery. Barub Basher [Karen] lives here.
Places of Interest: Bailer’s Retreat (tavern), Scrapper Hall (orphanage), Riverside House (another orphanage)