>>731780

The air in Port Steyr, around the docks in particular, is never good. Diesel fumes taint the air, but an edge of salt, blown in from the ocean, cuts through. Another interesting contrast, clearing your head as though you were recovering from a hangover. You were, in a sense – although it was adrenaline and fatigue that had been washing through your system, not alcohol. The end result was the same, a leaden feeling deep in your body. Like how an old man might feel, you think to yourself, like how Loch must feel.

This might well be the only time you'll get to feel old like this. You wouldn't complain too much if it was.

There's no trace of the Majestic in Port Steyr, but you were hardly expecting one. Walking the length of the docks is a formality, an act of confirmation as much as anything else. It'll be further south already, cutting a path through the ice towards the Free States. After that, you couldn't say where Yvette would run to. Where do destitute members of the nobility flee to when they are in trouble? Do they turn to each other for shelter, trusting ancient networks of alliances and favours to buy them hospitality?

A matter to look into, perhaps. The nobility, and their archaic ways, have always been something of a mystery to you. Let them keep their secrets – you'll start at the Ministry, to confirm what you already know. The Majestic is long gone, but perhaps it left a clue behind.

-

Camilla is writing paperwork when you arrive, her fingers lashing out at the keys of an old metal typewriter. Like birds pecking at eyeballs, you think, and just as grim if her expression is anything to go by. As you approach, she pushes her chair back a little and smiles, welcoming the distraction. Then again, you wager she'd welcome any distraction – even a madman with a pistol bursting in.

“Well,” she begins, in a wan voice, “You came back.”

You came back, you assure her, it must have been that good luck of hers.

“Quite,” Camilla's smile flashes sincerity for a moment before a businesslike mask descends once more, “So, things seem to have gone well. Are you allowed to talk about it yet, or are you going to leave me guessing?”

If she's been guessing, you shoot back, you'd like to hear her theories. Maybe then you can tell her how close she got.

“I'm a little too busy for games,” her hand steals out to take a pen, touching it to her lips in lieu of a cigarette, “How about we leave them for another time and focus on business? Maybe you can tell me something – the ship that came tearing though here, what was that all about?”

You can almost feel your ears perk up as she mentions a ship. Leaning in, you lower your voice and ask for her to explain.

[2/3]

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>>731783

A conspiratorial air descends over the conversation as you lean closer. Reading the mood, Camilla lowers her voice to match yours. “A number of hours after your three ships left for... wherever you were going, one of them came back. The biggest one, armed like no ship I've ever seen,” Camilla watches your reaction for a moment, “It didn't stop, not to let the crew rest and not to take on extra supplies. That's unusual.”

Sailors without shore leave, you murmur, that's going to hurt morale. Then again, it's little wonder that Yvette ordered the Majestic to keep moving on – stop for a day, and she might not have a crew coming back to her.

“And it was moving fast, too fast,” the Ministry agent continues, “Regulations call for the ships moving through here to keep a reasonable speed. A collision here could be disastrous. Luckily, there wasn't any trouble this time. Next time that captain pulls a stunt like that up here, I'll pin a fine on them. Tell them that, if you happen to see them.”

You'll do that, you reply with a faint smile, you'll make sure they get what's coming to them.

-

“Anyway,” Camilla dismisses the matter of speeding tickets with a curt gesture, “That's done with now. Whoever was behind the wheel of that monster, they're someone else's problem now.”

There's only one place that ship could have gone from here, you guess, right?

“South, right,” she nods before pausing slightly, “You've got a wicked look in your eye Henryk – if I didn't know any better, I'd say you wanted to chase after that ship.” Leaning back with a sly smile, she digs out a folder and flicks through it. “Next ship bound south leaves tomorrow morning,” she remarks, “Bulk cargo, heading straight to Port Daud. You know, just in case you WERE planning on heading back to the Free States as soon as possible.”

Closing your eyes for a moment, you picture the gulf between you and Yvette stretching wider and then you nod. Let her run, let her think she's safe – you won't stop until you've caught up with her. Opening your eyes once more, you lean back and think on more immediate concerns.

>You said you were busy. Has there been any trouble around here?
>Do you know anything about the Saive family?
>I think I'm finished here. See you around, Camilla
>I had a question for you... (Write in)
>Other

>>731784
>>You said you were busy. Has there been any trouble around here?
>>Do you know anything about the Saive family?

>>731784
>>You said you were busy. Has there been any trouble around here?
"Speaking of which, in addition to the White Tyrant, the witch that had been organizing attacks on Steyr is also dead. At the very least you probably won't have to deal any more witchcraft shit in your forests for awhile."
>>Do you know anything about the Saive family?

>>731784
>Are there any witness accounts of the crew aboard the Majestic?
>....I'll be frank, did it still look FULLY crewed?
>You're going to get a lot more traffic coming through here, by the way. Supplies, reinforcements.....settlers.

>>731784
>Other
"After taking down the White Tyrant and after I finish with my current 'assignment' I may have good will with Loch and the Ministry. Next time I talk with him is there anything you want me to tell him about the leadership and current state of affairs here in Steyr?"

She mentioned being busy, you ask, has there been any trouble around Port Steyr? It's too soon for the scattered barbarians to reach the settlement, you think to yourself, even if they chose to run this way. Some other trouble, then?

“I wouldn't call it trouble,” Camilla lays her hands, fingers spread, across the typewriter, “Just time consuming. There's a lot of paperwork to be done, and it has a habit of breeding – there seems to be more every time I look. We had orders to clean house before your group arrived – smoke out any troublemakers or hostile elements – and that was no easy task. Every search had to be recorded, every arrest needed an interview transcript, and the execution warrant...”

An execution, you ask, did she find a spy?

“Not a spy, no,” she makes a curt gesture, a mixture of frustration and disgust touching her face for a moment, “A local troublemaker. We were at one of the bars, asking around to see if anyone had witnessed unusual behaviour or activities – the usual Ministry business, you understand – and he took offence. Said we should “keep our fat noses out of his business”. He was, I should add, rather drunk.” Leaning back in her chair, Camilla lets out a weary sigh. “When we suggested he might want to discuss his grievances in private, he tried to stab one of my colleagues. Needless to say, it didn't work out well for him. Between his arrest, trial and execution, I think the whole thing took about... three hours, perhaps.”

Very efficient, you remark drily.

“He tried to stab a Ministry official in front of a tavern full of witnesses. He didn't exactly have much of a defence,” Camilla offers a bleak smile, “After that, it was just a matter of formalities. Three hours later, and he was just another report that needed filing. If anyone tells you Ministry work is exciting, you'll know they've never worked here.”

She might not thank you to hear this, you tell Camilla, but she might be getting even busier soon. There's going to be a lot of traffic coming through Port Steyr soon – supplies, fresh reinforcements and even new settlers. It could be a hell of a rush.

Groaning, Camilla slumps her shoulders. “No point shooting the messenger,” she decides after a moment, “And the advance warning is a good help. I'll pass the word upstairs, see if we can pull in a few extra people to lighten the load. You mentioned settlers, though... are you saying we might have some new neighbours here?”

Maybe, you reply, in due time. There's a lot of work to be done yet.

“I'll bet,” rubbing her forehead, Camilla looks at you with vaguely hopeful eyes, “Please tell me you have some good news as well.”

Actually, you assure her, you do.

[1/?]

>>731816

The news will probably reach Port Steyr soon enough, you continue, so you don't mind letting a few details slip now. The operation took you over to Port Tyrant, with the goal of taking out the White Tyrant himself. Not only was the operation a success, but you also managed to remove the witch behind most of the problems here in Port Steyr. With her dead, things should be a lot quieter here. At the very least, Camilla won't have quite so much witchcraft shit going on in her backyard.

Triumph flashes in Camilla's eyes, and she has to fight to keep a broad – and very unprofessional – grin from spreading across her face. “That IS good news,” she says eagerly, “You can confirm this? You've seen it with your own eyes?”

Thinking back, you recall watching Hebona wither away into a sack of ancient bones and filth. It's true, you assure her, you saw it with your own eyes. She shouldn't have any more witchcraft issues for now. It might not last forever, there may yet be a new witch rising up to cause problems, but...

“But it's granted us a moment of respite,” Camilla nods, “And that's worth a lot. Thank you, Henryk – I asked for good news, and you didn't disappoint me.”

There's one other thing you should mention, you add. Thanks to this operation, you might have a degree of good will in the Ministry – and a pretty influential figure in it. If there's anything she thinks that Port Steyr needs – leadership concerns or anything to do with the current state of affairs here – you could pass the word along. Anything she can think of?

“There is one thing,” she touches her lips, once again seeking a cigarette that isn't there, “If Port Tyrant has been brought back under our control, they might think to cut our manpower or funding. Less danger, you see? I fear it would be a mistake – we've got enough trouble keeping the day to day business going as it is.”

You'll pass it along, you assure her, but it's up to the Ministry to decide.

“Still, I owe you for this,” Camilla leans forwards again, “Anything I can do to pay you back?”

Just a bit of information, you decide, you've still got a few questions about that ship. Did she get any witness reports about the crew? Or, speaking more plainly, did it still look fully crewed?

Camilla opens her mouth to reply, and then closes it quickly. Holding up a hand, silently asking for a moment, she rummages for a note and skims it. “I knew it,” she says eventually, “There was something strange about it. By all accounts, there were no crewmen visible up on deck. Normally, you'd see people wandering or lounging about. Not this time – everyone must have been below deck.”

To prevent anyone else escaping, you think to yourself.

[2/3]

>>731835

“There's a lot about this business that's strange,” Camilla muses, “I don't like it. I don't like anything that makes waves here. The normal crime and disorder, I can deal with – it's my job to deal with – but the more I think about this matter, the less I like it. It's pretty far from normal, isn't it?”

Very much so, you agree, it's downright abnormal. Silence falls as you both consider the situation, and you find yourself changing the subject. Has she heard of the Saive family, you ask Camilla, does she know anything about them?

“I only know the details that have passed into the historical record. They were pretty influential around Port Steyr... until they weren't. They built a manor here, but it never saw much use. By the time it was finished, they were already setting their sights on their own little island. Didn't work out so well for them, as I understand it,” a thoughtful look reaches Camilla's face, “The manor here passed between a few other noble families for a while, but nobody really wanted it. Eventually, the Ministry bought it. We use it as an archive. All that paperwork I mentioned? After a while, we box it up and carry it over. Most of it sits and gathers dust, but sometimes we have to check something.”

Did the Saive family leave anything there, you ask, anything at all?

“Furniture, I think, but the various noble families took that over the years. Other than that, I think they DID leave some records behind. The archivist over there would really know more about it,” she shakes her head, “You'd need Ministry permission to get in, though. Want to take a walk over there and see?”

Searching an archive might take some time, but you've got time yet. With the next ship leaving tomorrow, you could afford a search. Still, it would leave you without much time for any other business here.

>Absolutely, yes
>I can't. I had other business
>I had a few other questions as well... (Write in)
>Other

>>731857
>>Absolutely, yes
Don't think we had anything else planned here anyway.

>>731857
>Absolutely, yes
we'd be cutting it pretty close if we had a rush job reforging the spear blade.

>>731857
>>Absolutely, yes

>>731857
>Absolutely, yes

Absolutely, you tell her with a nod, you didn't have any other business here. Can she get some time off for this, or should you come back later?

“We can go now, no need to wait,” Camilla assures you, before leaning back and calling out to one of the other workers. “Hey, Thorlund,” she calls, “I need to go check something in the archives, compare a few records. I'll be back... later, I'm not sure how long it'll take.”

Thorlund – a rather portly man who looks like he was born for a desk job – looks up and gives her a sullen nod. No other response, just that nod. If Camilla took any offence at his snub, it doesn't show on her face. Rising from her desk, she takes a heavy coat down from a rack and leads you outside.

“He hates me,” she remarks, “Back when I was calling the shots here, I gave him hell for slacking off. Funny how these things work out, isn't it?”

And now here she is, you joke, grabbing onto any excuse to slack off from doing the paperwork.

“Oh, of course. You're a terrible influence on me,” Camilla only just manages to keep a straight face as she says this, taking off down the wide streets. “Anyway, the archives are managed by a man named Rhineland. Olm Rhineland. He's a Scholar, but he's one of the good ones.”

Archivists tend to be, you add, in your experience.

“Huh, yeah,” there is a short pause as Camilla considers this, “You're right. Why do you think that is?”

There's no future in managing an archive, you suggest, no opportunities for promotions or glory. The only people who volunteer for archivist positions are the ones who like the job for its own merits. Peace and quiet, the joy of learning, whatever. The real bastards stick to more interesting fields of study, you add as you think of Wehrlain.

“That's probably it,” Camilla nods, “In either case, you'll have to be patient with Rhineland. He's a little eccentric.”

Aren't they all?

-

Unlike most of the Scholars you've met, Olm Rhineland looks like he could take a punch. Bald and clean shaven, he has deeply sunken eyes and a stubborn, pugnacious jaw. If it wasn't for his utter lack of muscle or fat – the man looks like a skeleton dipped in wax – you'd take him for a retired boxer. When you enter the manor, he's the first thing you see, sitting behind a long desk and scribbling in a notebook. Camilla opens her mouth to greet him, but he holds up a finger to silence her.

“Camilla,” he whispers eventually, “And... you brought a guest. Are you here to add something to my collection? No, that doesn't seem to be the case, you appear to be unburdened.”

Glancing across to you, Camilla offers a tiny shrug.

[1/2]

>>731910

“Hello Olm, I'm here to look up some things,” Camilla whispers back, “Historical records. Do you still have the Saive materials boxed away?”

Rhineland, who seems to prefer the quiet, goes utterly still and silent as he considers the question. “I believe so,” he murmurs eventually, “They're delicate, though. Fragile. They should be the old office, with all the other historical materials. Not that we have much of those, I should add, but still.”

Can you see them, you ask in a suitably muted tone, are they available?

“Yes. I'll show you to the offices,” Rhineland rises from his stool, unfolding himself like a spider, and gestures down a bland looking corridor. His arm is very long, and very thin indeed. “Please,” he adds, “This way.”

-

Following Rhineland, you feel more like you're delving into a catacomb than a manor. Every so often, you pass an alcove that might once have held a statue or some other kind of artwork. Now, they have cabinets and boxes of documents crammed into place, all covered in a thick layer of dust. Cobwebs spread thickly across the arched ceiling, deadening the light cast down by the electric lights above. Perhaps because of those cobwebs, you feel as though the ceiling is far lower than it really is. More than once, you catch yourself hunching down as if you were crawling through a cave. More than once, you spot Camilla brushing a spider off herself.

Rhineland, you note, doesn't seem to mind – or even notice – the little creatures.

“Here it is,” the skeletal man tells you after a long and silent trek, “Please be courteous. If you're looking for anything in specific, I may be able to locate it.” Slowly easing open a door – new, as if the old one had been torn out along with all the artwork – the archivist leads you into a small room.

No, you correct yourself, not small – just cramped with more cabinets and shelves. Looking around, you're not sure where to start. Perhaps some of your helplessness shows on your face, because Rhineland smoothly moves past you and takes a weighty tome from one of the shelves. With due reverence, he rests it on the desk.

“This is an account of all the lands, properties and titles granted to the Saive family, annotated with their current statuses,” he tells you gently, “It would provide, perhaps, an overview. If you have any questions, please ask them. Otherwise, I must return to the front desk. You can find me there, when you're finished.”

>How up to date are these records?
>Are these kept for a particular reason?
>This will do nicely. Thank you
>I was looking for something else... (Write in)
>Other

>>731958
>>How up to date are these records?
>>Are these kept for a particular reason?

>>731958
>How up to date are these records?
>Are these kept for a particular reason?
"Just for historical and documentation's sake?"

>>731958
>Is there a genealogy? With pictures?
Still wondering if White Tyrant was a Saive.

Taking a look at the record book, you feel the weight of time pressing down on you. This book is probably older than you, you realise, probably older than your parents as well. In fact, you're not sure how far you'd have to go up the Hanson family tree before you find a relative that pre-dates it, but you're sure that it wouldn't be a living relative. As a matter of historical trivia, the book could be priceless, but as a source of modern information? You're not sure. Glancing across to Rhineland, you lower your voice and ask him about it. How up to date are these records, you ask, have they been kept current?

“The records themselves are old, yes,” Rhineland admits, “But I've seen to it that they have been kept updated. Here, take note...” Donning a pair of white linen gloves, he opens the book at a random page and points to the text. You see two different scripts there – the majority is written in a spidery handwritten script, but there are occasional numbers penned in with darker, more recent ink. “Reference numbers,” Rhineland continues, “Connected with... this second book.” At this, he delves into the collection once more and takes out a more modern book. “This contains the current state of everything you'll find in the original document. I keep it up to date myself.”

Taking the pair of gloves that Rhineland offers you, you look up a reference number in the second book. The text is dry, but utterly meticulous in tracking the item – a painting, in this case – as it passes from one owner to another. The sheer dedication involved in this is staggering. Looking up, you meet Rhineland's eye. Are these kept for any particular reason, you ask him, or just for historical sake?

“Everything has historical value, even if we're not fit to judge its merit right now. I keep these records so that future generations can study them... men such as yourself, for instance. However, I have a more... personal reason for keeping the texts updated,” Rhineland pauses, offering you a slight smile, “This is a cold and distant land. A man needs a hobby.”

Considering the amount of work devoted to this, and the singular mindset required to call it a hobby, you hide a faint shudder. It seems like all Scholars, even the good ones, are a little mad. Clearing your throat, you ask instead after another resource. Does he have a copy of the Saive family tree, you ask, any record of their lineage?

[1/2]

>>732023

“I do, yes,” Rhineland clears his throat quietly, “However, I must warn you that there may be... omissions. Certain branches may have been struck from the record as a matter of, ah, discretion. I don't wish to cast aspersions on a noble family, even one that exists in a faded state, but there are certain matters that the nobility prefer not to, ah, speak openly about.” The longer Rhineland speaks, the more uncomfortable he looks. “Matters that relate to... mixing blood.”

Oh, you say quietly after a long pause, inbreeding.

Rhineland winces at the word, but nods. Quickly looking away from you, he takes down a tightly wound scroll and rests it on the desk. “I believe that should be everything,” he whispers, “I will be at the front desk. Please treat the books with the courtesy they deserve.” With that, and a bow, he turns and glides out of the office. His passing barely stirs up any dust at all.

-

“So,” Camilla asks once the office door has closed, “What are we looking for?”

A name, you tell her as you unwind the scroll, first of all. Touching a gloved finger to the parchment, you trace the lines of heritage. It's been kept updated, with Yvette's name gracing the last line of the diagram, but it's still incomplete. Certain branches have been wiped away, or left unnamed. Isten Kardja, you mutter to yourself as you search. No matter how far up you check the tree, though, you don't see the name. Whatever he was, the White Tyrant was no Saive.

That settles that, you mutter, one less mystery in the world. If the White Tyrant had any claim on the Saive palace, it was only a claim of strength – not blood or birthright.

“I never realised he had a real name,” Camilla muses after you explain your search to her, “I've only ever heard talk of him as the “White Tyrant”. It seems strange, to think of him as a man, and not some looming terror. Such is life, I suppose. Anyway, what's next?”

Next, you remark as you look at the weighty tome, anything that catches your eye. You'll know what you're looking for when you find it. Carefully opening the delicate book, you examine the list of contents. Four sections – land, properties, possessions and titles. The titles section, you note, is the shortest. It lists several absurd claims – duke and baroness among others – linked with various dates and reference numbers. For some reason, they all end at the same date.

“Titles are like that,” Camilla thinks for a moment, “For all families. They're an outdated practice anyway, just stupid posturing. Rhineland might have the full story, but it's not really relevant to anything these days.”

Right, you nod, moving on.

[2/3]

>>732061


The first section you check in detail is the “land” section. Most of it is devoted to individual areas of the Free States – the buildings and the land they're built on are recorded in different sections, you realise with growing frustration – but others are in the north. One particular entry catches your eye, however – a single island in the southern colonies, originally owned by the Saive family.

Somewhere that Yvette could run to, perhaps. Reading out the reference number, Camilla starts to flip through the second book to find it. When she has the right page, she passes it across. When your eyes follow the list of transactions, your hope sours. The island was sold several generations ago, and the buyer is only listed as “a private interest”.

“That's unusual,” Camilla offers, “If it was another noble family, they would have given their name. This sounds more like a group of businessmen... or criminals. Ah, but I repeat myself.” She adds a faint chuckle to that, in a vain attempt at lightening the mood.

Frowning, you tap a finger on the desk as you think. This “private interest” that bought the Saive lands down south – could they offer her sanctuary? With no idea of who they might be, you couldn't guess what role they have to play in this unfolding drama.

“It might have been a scam, something to get the land off the books,” your Ministry friend suggests, “They wouldn't technically own the land, so they couldn't be forced to pay it up to settle their debts, but it would still be theirs in any practical sense. I've seen it a few times, working at the Ministry. This “private interest” would be someone linked to the family. Not directly related, someone like a close friend perhaps.”

A close friend, you murmur, or someone that had been struck from the family tree. Returning to the scroll, you trace the lineage back and find a shorn branch that fits into the rough time period.

Slowly, the pieces are falling into place.

-

“I should be getting back to work,” Camilla decides after a short moment, “Are you finished here, or was there anything else you wanted to check? Anything you needed to ask Rhineland?”

>No, I've got everything I need
>Yes, there was something else... (Write in)
>Other

>>732192
>>No, I've got everything I need

>>732192
>No, I've got everything I need
We've got our lead.

No, you tell Camilla as you rise, you've got a lead – that's everything you need. It's about time you got moving as well, you add, too much of this old air gives you a headache. Maybe you'll find a good bar and think this over with a drink or two.

When you mention that, Camilla takes out her notepad and scrawls an address on the first page, passing you the ripped away sheet. “It's a pit, but they make a pretty good meal. I'll be there after work, if you want someone to share ideas with. I'll see if we've got anything connected with this in the recent records, but I'm not hopeful,” she gestures around at the office, “Anything historical, this is where you'd find it. All we keep at the Ministry are details on the open cases. Still, you never know.”

Taking the page and reading the address, you nod slowly. Maybe it's just boredom and frustration guiding her, but Camilla seems to be taking an unusual degree of interest in this matter. If the Majestic hadn't passed through Port Steyr at such high speed, you wonder, would it ever have been noticed? Maybe not – maybe Yvette's haste will wind up being her undoing. She's running as fast as she can, but all she's doing is leaving you a fine trail to follow.

It's a wicked thing, but this is starting to get you excited. The thought of hunting down something that could think – really think – left you uneasy at first, but you're starting to see the attraction.

Hopefully, when all this is over, you can put that attraction away and never touch it again.

-

Together, you and Camilla leave the archives and emerge into the fading light. You spent longer than you expected in the archives, pouring over records of family and property. Still, it was time well spent – a note with your theories and findings sits in your jacket pocket, while a more visceral version of the knowledge burns through your mind.

As you part ways, Camilla slaps you on the shoulder and gives you a cold smile. “The thrill of the chase,” she tells you, “That's what you're feeling, isn't it? I've felt that before, that anticipation as you get closer and closer to your target. There's nothing else in this world quite like it, I've found.” Letting her words trail off, she sighs. “I don't get it often these days. It's nothing but the open and shut crap – it's either drunken idiots waving knives about, or filing paperwork these days. Well, whatever. Speaking of paperwork, I better be going. I'll see you around, Henryk.”

Sure, you tell her, but not if you see her first.

[1/2]

>>732297

Fuck yer
Could ask if she wants to come along after a few drinks?

>>732352
She's already coming after work.

>>732297

The light slowly fades as you walk the wide streets of Port Steyr. After a while, you turn and look back at the archives, studying it with the last moments of daylight. There's nothing artful about the former manor, all the decoration hacked off and sold on – no different to the Saive manor back in Thar Dreyse. That entire family, you realise, reminds you of the very first step you took on this journey. The crippled, stillborn beast, dragging itself onwards and refusing to die. No, you correct yourself, they're not quite the same. The Saive family still feigns at pride and respectability, no matter how hollow or futile the pretence may be. They posture and preen, even as they sicken and die.

This job is getting to you, you mutter, leaving your thoughts bleak and dark. Normally, you're such a cheerful man.

Sighing, you check the address Camilla gave you and wander off. A good, hot meal will do you a world of good.

-

You have to settle for a hot meal, in the end. A thick stew, with a taste that offers no clue as to the actual ingredients. A more charitable man might call it “rustic”, if they were forced to put a name to it. Even so, it feels like the first real food you've had in weeks, and you eagerly devour it all. With the empty bowl sitting in front of you, you lean back and let the noise of the bar wash around you like a heavy wave. It's busy tonight, and most of the patrons wear familiar uniforms.

Seems like the first batch of troops have been granted leave, you think, set loose on Port Steyr to drink away the stress of battle. It lends the bar a riotous atmosphere, burst of song competing with yelled conversations. More than once, a passing soldier notices you and urges you to join their celebrations. Compared with the pariah dog treatment you were given on the way in, the jovial moods grate on your nerves. Every time, without fail, you plead fatigue and send the soldiers away.

When Camilla arrives, she glances about the packed bar and grimaces. Sitting down next to you, she leans forwards and raises her voice to be heard. “No way we're having a good talk here,” she almost shouts.

Outside, you suggest, what about outside?

Nodding, Camilla rises and backs out the way she came. Finishing the last of your dark, murky beer, you follow her out. Moving from the heat and noise of a crowded bar to the cold stillness of the night stuns you for a moment, and it takes you a few seconds to find your voice. A few moments more to lower it as well, now that you don't need to compete with bursts of drunken song.

With her words casting frosty clouds into the air, Camilla begins to speak.

[2/3]

>>732388

“I wasn't able to find much,” Camilla offers, “But I'll share what I did find. When the Saive family packed up and abandoned the north, they left a damn mess behind them. There were noble families fighting over who got what – not literally fighting, I should add – and it was a good few years before everything was portioned out. It's not that unusual for things to be untidy, but this degree of mess was... abnormal. Suspicious.”

Suspicious, you ask, in what way?

“Like the Saive family needed a little time to put their affairs in order,” the Ministry agent suggests, “And they threw a little extra legal trouble up as a smokescreen.”

Her words hang in the air for a while as you think, picturing a scenario in your mind. The Saive family devotes a great deal of their treasury to building a new palace in the north. When that fails, the family falls on hard times and sells much of their property – their first manor in the north and a southern island included. Around about the same time, a branch of their family tree is cropped, and a snarl of paperwork covers up a lot of their movements. The question, then – what does it all mean?

“They had something to hide,” Camilla says bluntly, “This northern palace of theirs was more than it appears. Anything more than that... you'd need to ask them that.” She falls silent for a moment, and when she speaks her voice is a fraction harder. “Tell me, Henryk – I want to know what you're involved in. If it was another Ministry agent asking these questions, I could believe it, but this is strange ground for a Hunter to be treading.”

This time, you're the one who falls into a cautious silence. This isn't just strange ground, you think, but it's dangerous ground.

“Look, I'm off-duty. Anything you say to me, you're saying it to a regular person, not a representative of the Ministry,” she spreads her hands wide, “So please, tell me everything.”


Everything, you consider, is a fairly impossible request. Somehow, you doubt that Camilla would react well to hearing about Artemis and her great beasts. No, no matter what you tell her, there are some things you're better off leaving out. Yvette is a fugitive, not a beast.

But if - or when - you tell her, you think, would she really leave it at that? Or would she use this as a chance to get even more involved?

>Fine. I'll tell you everything
>I'm sorry, but you're better off not knowing
>Other

>>732458
>Fine. I'll tell you everything

>>732458
>Fine. I'll tell you everything

Just the stuff relating to Yvette and also tell he that we have been tasked to this by someone in the Ministry

>>732458
>Fine. I'll tell you everything

>>732481
This. We're looking into Yvette 'cause we were tasked to hunt her down. That's really all she needs to know.

>>732458
>Fine. I'll tell you everything
"Yvette Saive was tasked to give support from the Majestic during the fight at Port Tyrant. Instead she turned tail and killed some of her men that tried to stop her. Loch wants her, dead or alive."

>>732356

I was talking about the hunt since it wiuld be within her rights as an misntry agent to ether kill or bring her back,
Get her some better rep/ standing back
And shes board here

>>732458

Fine. I'll tell you everything
Youl know if your lieing or hding back(i think)
But try to just tell here what we are doing about this noble no need to bring up an old god

>>732587

Or we can brush off the hunts like evey now and then a hunter is chosen to kill 12 grate beast and this time we have been chosen but the best can change the shap and if it dosnt get completely done then they will start to reborn and a new hunter takes my or his/her place
Its a hunter thing

>>732602
Stop overthinking it.

Rubbing a hand across your brow, you wonder just what you're getting yourself into. Maybe this is just going to cause you more problems down the line, or maybe it'll win you a valuable ally – it's hard to know for sure. All you can do is trust your instincts, and that little voice in the back of your mind is urging honesty.

Fine, you tell Camilla, you'll tell her everything.

“Hold on,” she holds up a hand, and then leads you a little further away from the wide street. With the close walls of a gloomy alleyway pressing in, and the light of her cigarette playing across her features, the air grows even more secretive. “Much better,” Camilla murmurs, “More private this way. No need to worry about prying eyes or keen ears.”

How much of that is reasonable caution, you wonder, and how much is that famous Ministry paranoia in action? Either way, you take a breath of cold air and begin your curt, quick version of events. The ship she saw was the the Majestic, you begin, an important part of the military operation you were a part of. Yvette Saive was tasked with using the Majestic to provide support, but when the time came – and she was urged to fire upon what she saw as her birthright – she balked. She refused to do her duty.

“But that's not all, is it?” Camilla guesses, “That alone isn't enough to warrant a desperate flight.”

No, you confirm, it was far worse than that. The mind behind this operation, Berdan Loch had men in place to ensure that Yvette performed her duties. When they tried to take command of the Majestic, she killed them. Shot them dead, all three of them, right there on the bridge of her ship.

“She murdered three Ministry agents?” breathing a haze of cigarette smoke to the side, Camilla murmurs her words, “Shit...”

And now Loch wants her tracked down, you tell her grimly, dead or alive. If possible, he wants it done quietly – which is why he asked you, rather than making it an official matter. He has a certain respect for you, after seeing your part of his operation, and he considered this fitting work for a Hunter. That's a curse as much as it is a blessing, you add in a faintly bitter voice.

“Chasing a murderer to the furthest corners of the land, uncovering a sinister conspiracy as you do so,” Camilla smiles wryly, “Henryk, are you sure you're not a character in some kind of radio play?”

These days, you sigh, you're not sure of much. Anyway, now that she knows what you've got yourself involved in...

“I won't tell anyone, you have my word,” Camilla presses the palm of her hand to her chest, just over her heart, “If you want the truth, I think you're doing the right thing. She needs to be brought to justice.”

[1/2]

>>732602
Or we just tell her about Yvette and leave it at that. No need to go around spilling beans.

>>732608
Your not the boss of me!!
>>732615

It was just in case she picked up we not telling her the whole truth thats all

>>732609

You're not exactly sure if this is justice – especially if Yvette never makes it back to the Free States to stand trial – but Camilla's words give you a faint rush of comfort. Maybe it's just the act of sharing that helps, talking it out with someone else.

“That said,” Camilla looks intently at you, “I've got to ask...”

Here it comes, you think, the question you've been expecting.

“You said Berdan Loch,” she asks in a rush, “Are we talking about THE Berdan Loch? I didn't realise he was still active. He's sort of a legend in Port Steyr – not always in a good sense, you understand, but he's certainly a notable figure.”

Okay, not exactly the question you had been expecting. With a faint smile, you find yourself nodding. It was, without a doubt, the Berdan Loch. It's not a name that means much, back down in the Free States.

“No, I suppose not. Up here, though, he's more famous – in a rather sinister way,” Camilla laughs faintly, “I'm something of an admirer of his. No wonder he had us rushing about making arrests before his operation. Not a man who leaves things to chance, if the stories are to be believed.”

There's something very strange about hearing Camilla speaking like this, in a giddy way that reminds you faintly of Artemis in her more whimsical moments. Although, you consider, Artemis would be more likely to gush praise about a particularly violent murder. Shaking your head in a mix of amusement and weariness, you start to leave the dank alleyway when Camilla's voice reaches you.

“I want in,” she says quietly, her words reaching you with all the clarity of a knife.

There is it, the question you'd been expecting. Slowly, you turn back to face her. Without a word, you gesture for her to make her case.

“I can help you,” Camilla continues calmly, “I can sniff out lies, and it's good to have another gun at your side. I'm about due some time off here, they won't miss me. Hell, I bet they'd be glad to see the back of me for a while. We made a pretty good team before, didn't we? So how about it?”

>You're in – we'll do this together
>This is something I need to do alone
>Other

>>732683
>You're in – we'll do this together
It' always good to have help.
We might want to mention we don't plan to take her alive if she puts up any fight though.

>>732683
>>You're in – we'll do this together
I don't see any reason to decline, though I'd go along with it if one came up.

>>732683
>You're in – we'll do this together

>>732683
Also hey Moloch, sorry I'm late.

>>732683
>>You're in – we'll do this together
"Just so you're aware of the risks though, Yvette is has Dragon blood and that makes her a dangerous opponent. Loch's agent reported that she killed his men with her pistol faster than he thought possible, all headshots. This won't be easy."

>>732683

You're in – we'll do this together
Time to tage time a bitch,
Also could we get this gunship for us as thr trophy?
Or are we going for her handguns?
Lock of hair

>>732764
I'd say her sword would be perfect. I doubt the Ministry would let us take the ship, even if we could use it, anyway.

There's just one thing you need her to be clear on, you begin. Yvette is dangerous, no matter how she might appear. She's dangerous in that very particular way that all nobles are dangerous – she's quick, and she fights without restraint. She shot three men, right through the head, faster than anyone thought possible. If she resists, and it comes to a fight, you're not going to risk your life by trying to take her alive. If she fights, you can't hold back – you'll shoot to kill. If she can't accept that...

“In the Ministry, we're taught several things about disease, and those that carry it,” Camilla replies quietly, “If we have reason to suspect that someone is a carrier, a contagion and a risk to wider society, our orders are to shoot to kill. This is no different. I understand, Henryk, and I can accept it.”

Her words are calm, carefully chosen, and as cold as the frigid air that surrounds you. Utterly sincere as well, without a hint of a lie in her expression. Closing your eyes for a moment, you sigh lightly. She's in, you say without opening your eyes, you'll finish this job together.

A pause, long enough that you start to wonder if you really spoke your words aloud, and then Camilla reaches across to touch your shoulder. “Thank you, Henryk,” she says quietly, “I appreciate this. I really do.”

Well, you decide after a strangely solemn moment, this calls for a drink – something to toast your success. That is, if you can find a bar that isn't crammed with drunken soldiers. Not an easy task, you suspect.

“Toasting our success will have to wait. I need to arrange for some time off,” Camilla offers a grim smile, as if the thought of dealing with her superiors was one that caused her actual physical pain, “After that, though, I know a quiet spot if you still want a drink.”

A good bar, you ask quietly, or did she have something else in mind?

There, in the dark street, and with every word hanging in the air like a low mist, Camilla laughs softly. “Well,” she murmurs, “There's always my place.”

>I think I'll pause things here for today. I'll pick things up tomorrow, and I can stick around in case anyone has any questions or comments
>Thanks to everyone who contributed today!

>>732786
Thanks for running Moloch.

>>732786
Is Artemis REEEing at all because Henryk is "spending" so much time with Camilla?

>>732786
Ha.

Thanks for running Moloch.

>>732798

Only because we're not out killing things. Artemis is a little bit like that guy who skips through all the dialogue in a videogame to get to the combat faster

>>732775

We alredy have the birthing sword thingy and now a spear and big as kinght sword, a gun would be something mot cqc
Or take a few and give them to the 3 frinds we have?

>>732786

Thanks for runing
Voteing to go back to her place in case i dont make it
But mybe pick aome food up on the way to her place

>>732809
I can picture her mashing buttons to get through cutscenes. She's now even more adorable.

>>732816
We got the broken sword blade from taking the White Tyrant's spear apart, and it's about the size of a knife. We didn't take the rest of the sword because it was too big for a regular person to lift, not even the White Tyrant used it. We already have a pistol of our own. So we actually have the birthing blade, a tip of a sword that's kinda useless for now, a pistol, and our knife.

>>732851

I thiught we wore bringing the sowrd with us back home?
But wasnt the tip part of his spear that we grabed as loot? Or did we just take the tip?
Well the oistol we have is narting special so nice ones would be good, mybe she as full auto handguns?
Or her fingers just that fast

>>732955
Did you actually read what I said?

>We got the broken sword blade from taking the White Tyrant's spear apart

We took the tip to make a knife for Lize and the cloth holding it to the shaft as a trophy. It was made for someone inhumanly tall like the White Tyrant so Henryk would never be able to use it effectively. No shaft, no spear.

>We didn't take the sword because it was too big for a regular person to lift

Pretty much sums up why we don't have the sword, it's about as useful to Henryk as any other prohibitively heavy hunk of steel


The very minor differences between most handguns means that one will generally be as good as another so long as they're made right and shoot the same round. I doubt Yvette had the money to but a super expensive hand made one, and if it is it's most likely outdated. Her family has be destitute for a long time.

I'm guessing she killed the 3 agents as quickly as she did with a mixture from her Dragon Blood and influence from being a Great Beast. So far Moloch hasn't mentioned automatic weapons of any kind once. Not even the high ranked Ministry agents we worked with in the South used them.

>>733028
>money to but

money to buy*

>>733028

The whight tyrant had a spear woth the tip of the big ass sword as the tip wich was way i was asking about a spear.
We dont realy need any more cqc wepons
Wich is y i was thinking we take a pistol and the bull can ether take her head or her sigil ring as proft we killed her oh and sailing back on the gunboat as well.
Mybe they are still in thr prototype stage or seen as james too much, wast ammo and things or her fimaly had like a de vichy(super smart guy) back in the fimaly at some point idk and this is like one of a kind pistol

>>733078
Your spelling is getting worse and worse.

>>733078
Are you drunk? I've said since you first mentioned the spear that we don't have a spear, we took it apart and left the shaft behind.

And I'm pretty sure the kid would've said something about the guns not being like regular guns if they were, but let's ask Moloch.

>>732809
Have automatic weapons been invented yet?

>>733083
I honestly have no idea what's going on.

>>733117

Automatic weapons have not been developed yet, no. Semi-automatic at best.

>>733083
>>733117

Im typing on a phone and yer i just had it in my mind we had a spear idky.

Kid? Shit that must have happened in the last esp just after i left shit.
Its funy how angery you get over spelling like clame your tits buddy.
>>733137
Alrighty then all good
I think i was just forgeting some things hmmm i wounder what she sees when she uses her kinght blood powers?
Liz see things.
Dose that mean they black out and just trust that the visions will kill all in front of them or do they start to gain control over it and see what they are doing without the visions taking over?

>>733170
I'm not angry, it's just really weird how it keeps getting worse and worse.

And yeah, it was in the previous thread. You can find it on suptg. Thread #12
Here's a link:
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Northern%20Beasts%20Quest

>>733170

In most cases, a mature Dragon has control over their abilities. They don't have any visions clouding their judgement, but they retain the increased speed/strength they gain. It doesn't always work out this way, however, especially if the Dragon is panicking or put into a stressful situation. When that happens, they can slip back into suffering visions or other side effects

>>733210
>>733230
Chears mate time to see what i missed, i dont how its better some days or i just take the time to look back over it idk.

Ok thats good to know
So as they get older the visions just started happening with a fight or control qich makes them carzy and dangerous to be around? Till thats all they can see?

>>733292

Without a fight or reason to get triggered

>>733292

That is a pretty common thing for Dragons to suffer as they get older, yes. Lize's father, for example, has a pretty poor grasp on reality and has to be restrained much of the time. It's not the only thing Dragons can suffer, but it's probably the most common

>>733326

Ok damm
Hmm i found it funy they would be best on the battlefield b ut since the nobles and other people dont wana see them like this or ise them as best of war they are keept looked up.
I think the northman would use them as war best kinder like the (death company) black rage from the blood angles in 40k untill they have been killed in combate( lest they have a use)

Walking through the wide streets of Port Steyr by the silver moonlight, you hear distant snatches of songs echoing through the night. A light snowfall drifts through the air, more of a haze than anything solid, and the clouds left by your breath quickly fade from sight. Every bar or tavern you pass – and there are a lot of them – offers a different scent. A heavy fog of beer fumes here, the enticing odour of cooked food there, it all combines to form a fascinating tapestry. Something uniquely northern, you muse.

“I'll miss this place,” Camilla says as you walk, half to herself.

You're about to reply when a door bursts open and a rabble of drunken soldiers falls out. Grabbing Camilla by the arm, you pull her aside and out of their way. Hurrying ahead, you hear the wet, slick sound of one – or maybe more – of the soldiers vomiting loudly. A chorus of profanity and slurred yelling rises up in response.

“I'm still going to miss it,” she insists, although this time she sounds a little less certain.

-

In the kitchen, Camilla moves with the practised efficiency of someone used to cooking for themselves. No ceremony, and nothing that could be considered flamboyant or excessive. Taking anything perishable from her cupboards – not much – she studied the ingredients for a moment before mixing them up into a simple meal. For some reason, her efficiency reminds you of the execution she mentioned. Three hours, she said, between arrest and execution.

When she sets a plate of food in front of you, you find your appetite somewhat lacking. Camilla doesn't seem to notice you vague discomfort, sitting down and eating with mechanical efficiency. Cooking alone and eating alone, two things that you've both got a long history of.

So, you ask her, why was she eager to come along?

“Hmm, good question,” Camilla pauses, her fork poised to spear a tough cut of meat, “Gut instinct played a part – the more I learned about this business, the more I felt like I needed to be involved. Still, I don't make decisions purely on gut instinct. At least... I try not to. Another aspect, I must admit, is excitement. I mentioned the thrill of the chase before – I want to feel like that again. Actually tracking down a fugitive, not just throwing a drunk into a cell. It's very selfish, I know, but I can't deny it.”

You consider your own life. Could you really set aside the life of a Hunter for something that much more sedate, some kind of desk job? Probably not, the boredom would drive you mad.

“Besides,” Camilla points her fork at you, “This Saive woman broke the law in my city. If she thinks she can just get away with that, she's sorely mistaken.”

[1/3]

>>736450

That night, you sleep on the couch. There was no conscious decision made, either by you or Camilla, but you both knew that the mood wasn't right for anything else. Perhaps the night you spent together had been a one-off, something to burn away your fears and your anxieties. An important moment for both of you, but perhaps one never to be repeated. Instead, you talked for a short while, sticking to the more neutral ground of your respective businesses. After trading a few old stories and sharing a few drinks, you both retired to bed.

By the first light of early morning, Camilla was packed up and ready to leave her home behind. She packed light – a single bag, with just a few sets of spare clothing. When you commented on this, her answer had been simple.

“All my clothes are made for cold weather,” she had told you with a slight shrug, “A sensible precaution up here, but pure foolishness down south. We'll both need to prepare accordingly – something lighter, I expect, and waterproof. I hear it can rain quite heavily down in the colonies.”

A sensible, practical answer – exactly what you've come to expect from her.

-

Securing passage on the cargo ship is a simple matter, just a case of presenting your League papers and speaking briefly with the captain. Mainly just to reassure him, to put his mind at ease. When a Hunter and a Ministry agent show up requesting a place on a ship, it's enough to make any captain worried. Even after you told him, at length, that he wasn't in any trouble, he still held a dubious air about him.

You won't be invited to any formal dinners on this voyage, you reckon, not that this hulk of a ship has ever seen such luxuries. The cargo ship – the Taurus – reminds you of an old pack animal, one that could lie down and die at any minute, while the crew are a singularly rough mob. They regard you and Camilla with indifference, only faint hostility, but otherwise they leave you alone.

That suits you fine.

-

The third day of the long voyage finds you standing up on deck, gazing out from the prow of the ship. A low mist clings to the frozen waters, but still you look out. Hoping, perhaps, to catch a fleeting glimpse of the Majestic. No such luck so far, and you doubt that that will change. The Taurus is slow, crawling forwards like a wounded animal, while the Majestic is capable of gliding through the water.

Time passes unnoticed as you watch the horizon creep past, the Free States still a good few days away. Turning away to lean against the railings you notice Camilla standing at her own section of the deck, looking out across the waters with a faint frown.

[2/3]

>>736455

“I've been thinking,” she begins when you approach and get her attention, “Planning, really. It's no small thing, travelling down to the colonies, so it pays to think ahead.”

So that's how she's chosen to pass the time, you think, meticulously preparing for every eventuality. You're not surprised – it seems to be a habit of Ministry agents. Well then, you ask her, what are these plans of hers?

“First of all, we'll be docking in Port Daud. From there, we'll need to head to Odyss and catch another ship, one that can take us to the colonies,” Camilla pauses, considering this, “I should warn you, we might not be able to get a ship immediately. We may have a few days to wait – I'll know for certain once we get to Port Daud, the Ministry should have a record of when the next ship is due to leave.”

More delays. Even without a desperate rush to catch up with Yvette, the thought of waiting around doing nothing until you can catch a ship is a frustrating one. You mention as much, and Camilla shrugs in response.

“We'll see,” she replies simply.

-

“Three days,” Camilla announces, four days and a handful of hours later, as she leaves the Ministry office at Port Daud, “The next ship bound for the southern colonies leaves Odyss in three days.”

Three days, you repeat angrily, of doing nothing. Three more days for Yvette to run, hide, or seek new allies.

“We may have another option,” she cautions, “The Ministry down in Odyss usually keeps a ship on hand for official business. We could try and requisition it, although that would have its own risks. For one thing, we'd be working on the record – there's no way of doing it quietly. Maybe we could leave out the specifics, exactly who we're chasing, but it'll still draw a good deal of attention to what we're doing.”

Go loud and reach the south quicker, you think aloud, or keep quiet and get there slowly. Loch wanted to keep this off the record, but what if that means letting Yvette slip through your fingers?

“There's another issue,” Camilla adds, “The Saive family has a manor down in Thar Dreyse, correct? If we're waiting a few days, we could use that time to search it, see if she left anything behind. It's what I'd do, if this was an official investigation – take the time to gather evidence, build a better case against her.”

>No, we can't afford to wait. Let's head to Odyss and see about getting that Ministry ship
>Fine, let's head to Thar Dreyse and check out the Saive manor
>I had another idea... (Write in)
>Other

>>736456
>Fine, let's head to Thar Dreyse and check out the Saive manor

>>736456
>>Fine, let's head to Thar Dreyse and check out the Saive manor
I was going to hurry along but I'd prefer to stay off the record as much as possible.

>>736456
3 days. That's a lot of time, but Loch wants this quietly.

>>Fine, let's head to Thar Dreyse and check out the Saive manor

Though I don't really see the need in gathering evidence when her guilt is plain as day and she has already been condemned by Loch. Hopefully we'll find something else of use there.

>>736475
>>736462
>>736458
>Fine, let's head to Thar Dreyse and check out the Saive manor

As much as you'd like to keep moving forwards, Loch was clear about wanting to keep this matter quiet. Even if it means letting Yvette slip further ahead, you'll play it quietly. She's left you a fine trail to follow so far, and you don't anticipate that changing any time soon. Nodding, you glance back to Camilla. She's got the right idea, you tell her, you'll head to Thar Dreyse and search the Saive manor for any other leads.

“Got it,” Camilla nods, and then a weary smile touches her lips, “I know what you're thinking, though – you're wondering if there's any point in getting evidence. You don't think this will ever reach a courtroom, do you?”

The idea had crossed your mind, you admit, that's why you warned her earlier. Yvette must know what's waiting for her back in the Free States – an execution, fit for a common criminal. She's got nothing to gain and everything to lose by coming quietly. One way or another, this will end down south... at least, that's what your gut tells you. Maybe you're wrong.

“No,” slowly, sadly, Camilla shakes her head, “I don't think you are.”

Either way, you continue, you might be able to learn a little more about what could be waiting for you down south. That alone would be a potent advantage.

“There was another thing worth mentioning,” the Ministry agent adds as you walk to the next train, “I asked around at the Ministry, seeing if they had seen any unusual ships in the area. Apparently, a vessel fitting the Majestic's rough description was seen passing by, although it kept a good distance from land. Almost as if it was trying to slink past unnoticed, wouldn't you say?” She laughs at the thought. “Not all that surprising that it didn't work. How are you supposed to hide a battleship?”

So these sightings, you ask, the Majestic was still heading south?

“Yeah, as expected. No signs of crew up on deck either,” she pauses, frowning slightly, “From what I heard, the Majestic sounds like a ghost ship. I suppose it'll give the sailors something new to gossip about.”

And that gossip, you think, might well keep you pointed in the right direction.

-

“I just thought,” Camilla begins a while later, as the train rattles down towards the capital, “Now I'll get the chance to see where you live. It's only fair, after all.”

It's nothing special, you protest, not much more than an empty box. Well... not so empty, these days. In either case, you might not have the time for a grand tour – you're supposed to be working, after all.

“I suppose,” she sighs, although the faint remnants of a coy smile linger for a moment longer, “We'll have to see how things go.”

[1/2]

>>736507
We're gonna find some way to not go home right? Lize and Camilla meeting sounds like a fun time but it also seems risky if she starts asking any questions.

>>736515
I dunno. I think Camilla is cool with us, specially after we are doing for her now, enough that if she does sniff out that Lize isn't our sister she'll keep the secret. Specially since it's Lize's choice and secret.

>>736515
Actually now that I think about it their motivations are pretty similar. Both want to get out and live a little instead of being cooped up in Steyr/Alkeav manor.

>>736507

When you arrive at Thar Dreyse, you're still thinking of a good excuse to keep Camilla and Lize from crossing paths. A meeting like that could only end in difficult questions, and with Camilla's talent at spotting lies, you could end up in one hell of a tight spot. Fortunately, fortune throws you a lifeline.

“It's fine, you know,” she remarks, her voice coming to you soft and low, “If you'd rather keep your life private. I'm not about to make an issue out of it. It's your business, and I know better than to pry. When I'm off-duty, at least. If it was an official matter, I'd be prying as much as I needed to.”

That's fine then, you reply with a wry smile, you won't mention all the contraband you've been hoarding.

“Funny,” Camilla laughs shortly and starts to stick a cigarette between her lips before pausing, “That was a joke, right?”

With that same smile, you offer her a vague shrug and nothing else.

-

Still with your bag and baggage in tow, you make your way through the streets of the capital towards the noble district. Camilla seems fascinated by everything you pass, gazing around in wonder. Compared with the blunt, militant styles found in Port Steyr, the buildings here must look odd – decorative, almost, and that's before you've reached the manors and mansions in the noble district.

“This place has sure changed,” Camilla says as you lead her onwards, “Or maybe I've just forgotten what it was like before. It feels like you could set foot down the wrong street and vanish here – it's like a maze.”

It took you a while to get used to it as well, you agree, when you first arrived. Even now, you know that there are corners of the city you've never seen – backstreets and hidden sights. Wandering freely, someone might stumble upon them only to never find them again, such is the twisted knot of streets and alleyways here.

But you're not here to wander aimlessly – you've got a purpose, and that lies in the noble district. At least that is easy enough to find. Simply by following the main streets, it isn't long before you find your way to a checkpoint and present your League papers. When Camilla starts to reach for her own documents, you cut her off with a slight gesture and introduce her, instead, as your assistant. With indifference heavy in his eyes, the guard waves you both through.

“I'm your assistant now, am I?” Camilla whispers, once you've passed through into the walled off section of the city.

Less attention this way, you murmur back, it keeps the Ministry connection quiet for a time longer. No point in raising that flag until absolutely necessary.

“Cunning,” she admits, “Now where's this manor?”

This way, you tell her. You remember the way well enough.

[2/3]

>>736576


You're not quite sure what to expect at the Saive manor, now that there isn't a gathering of Hunters and soldiers breathing fresh life into it. An empty shell would be ideal, giving you plenty of leeway to search and take whatever you might need, but life is so rarely ideal. The front door is closed but unguarded, and the windows are shuttered tightly. Shrugging faintly, you approach and rap your knuckles against the door, waiting for a response.

Somewhere deep within the manor, you hear the faintest sounds of movement. A shuffling of sorts, perhaps. Waiting a moment longer, you watch the door swing open to reveal a wizened, aged face. The old man is stooped and shrunken, but his face has a kindly look to it. Like a protective grandfather, you think, or possibly a great-grandfather. He wears a dark suit that is almost as old as he is, dust engrained into the ancient fabric.

“Good day,” he says slowly, in the polite tone of an impeccably trained servant, “I'm afraid the mistress of the house is not home at the moment. She is... away on important business in the north.”

You glance across to Camilla, and she returns your gaze with a faint nod. The servant doesn't know about Yvette's desperate flight. That gives you a good place to start from.

“May I enquire what your business was?” the butler continues, “I shall take note and inform the mistress when she returns. She will reply to you with all due haste, I assure you.”

>The “mistress” is now a fugitive. We've been charged with searching the premises
>I'm an associate of your mistress. She sent me to recover an important document she left behind. Do I have your leave to enter?
>Yvette Saive is missing, we're trying to find her and ensure her safe return. Your cooperation would help with that
>Other

>>736601
>Yvette Saive is missing, we're trying to find her and ensure her safe return. Your cooperation would help with that

>>736601
>Yvette Saive is missing, we're trying to find her and ensure her safe return. Your cooperation would help with that

"We believe that her battleship the Majestic was headed south but that's all we know for sure. Anything that can help us locate her and get her to safety would be extremely appreciated."

>>736601
>Yvette Saive is missing, we're trying to find her and ensure her safe return. Your cooperation would help with that

>>736601
>Yvette Saive is missing, we're trying to find her and ensure her safe return. Your cooperation would help with that

Yvette Saive is missing, you begin carefully. Before you can say a single word more, the old man draws in a great shuddering breath and stumbles, flinching back against the door. Camilla moves quickly, reaching forwards to keep him from falling.

“Missing?” he gasps, “No, I... I...”

“Sir, please don't panic,” Camilla's voice becomes soft, taking on a soothing veneer – the perfect tone for dealing with hysterical witnesses or grieving relatives.

“Yes, I... I understand,” straightening up – as much as he can, at least – the butler gives a shaky nod, “Please come in. We should discuss this matter inside, not out in the streets.” As Camilla steps back, the butler turns and shuffles into the manor, leaving you to follow him inside. Trailing him in a solemn silence, you allow yourself a silent moment of triumph. You've got your foot in the door – a good start.

“I've known the mistress since she was born,” he says as he walks, his soft voice drifting through the hallway, “It may be presumptuous to say so, but I almost see her as my own kin. If anything bad should have happened to her...”

Covering up a wince, you try to copy Camilla's calm tone. You're trying to find her, you assure the butler, and ensure her safe return. To do that, you may need his cooperation.

“Yes, yes... I'll do whatever I can,” the old man shows you into a discrete parlour, the decorations threadbare and destitute, “Please, sit. My name is Kaspar, and I'll do everything I can to help you. If I might be so bold as to ask, what do you know? Do you have any clues at all?”

The most recent knowledge you have suggested that her ship was heading south, you tell him carefully, and it didn't stop in Port Daud. However, you don't know much else for certain. Anything he could tell you, anything that might suggest where Yvette could be heading, would help.

“The Saive family formerly had property in the southern colonies, but the land was sold on long ago. I'm afraid I don't know the identity of the buyer. That was before I entered the family's service,” Kaspar pauses, “However, as a matter of hospitality, she could request shelter from the new owners. That is to say, if they follow the same laws of honour and tradition that the noble families hold dear.”

“Kaspar?” Camilla asks gently, “Does your mistress keep papers or documents of any kind? Letters or correspondence perhaps?”

“They would be in her private office. I have a key, but it is only to be used in the case of an emergency,” the venerable butler shudders slightly, “This ghastly situation, I feel, certainly qualifies. Shall I show you to the office?”

That would be very helpful, you reply with a nod.

So far, so good.

[1/2]

>>736671

After another painfully slow walk through the corridors of the Saive manor, Kaspar leads you to the office door. Taking a heavy brass key from the inside of his coat, he pushes it into the lock with a trembling hand. The act of pushing the key in, however, causes the door to swing slightly open.

“Unlocked? But that... but I...” Kaspar mumbles to himself for a moment before giving you a vaguely fearful look, “I checked this very door two days ago, and it was locked tight. Someone else has been in here since then. Do you think... the young mistress, perhaps?”

You'd rather not say anything yet, you caution him, not before you know what you're dealing with. This situation is still delicate, and requires a careful hand. Rash action could very well harm Yvette in the long run.

“Yes, I... I see,” Kaspar pales slightly, taking a shuffling step back, “It may be best, I think, to let you search in peace. I would only be in the way, I fear. Please, if you find anything you deem significant, I'll tell you whatever I can. It may not be much, however...”

“Thank you, Kaspar,” Camilla gives the old butler a slight smile, even as she gently steers him back towards the parlour, “You should rest, for now, you look terribly pale. Let me help you...”

That gentle tone, fading as she guides Kaspar away from you.

-

You came here to search this office, but it seems like someone beat you to it. Everything is neat and tidy, perfectly in order, but you can sense someone's presence in the air. Perhaps it's too neat and tidy, as if the place had been recently emptied. It's like the home of a deceased man, all the possessions removed to leave behind an empty husk. Not exactly like that – there are still some things left here – but the comparison feels apt.

The few books you find are of the most banal variety, and the letters are much the same. Noble gossip – talk of engagements, scandals and delicately worded descriptions of “the noble condition” - are common. With vague amusement, you note a reference to “that missing Alkaev brat”, but a reference is all it is. It seems like Lize is old news, half-forgotten gossip. She'd like that, you suspect.

“Kaspar is enjoying a nice cup of tea,” Camilla whispers to you as she returns, “So we've got some time alone. Anything here catch your eye?”

Only the absence of anything, you reply, someone cleaned this place out.

“Shit,” she breathes, “Well... I suppose this is evidence of something. Some deeper conspiracy, perhaps.”

Maybe the butler did it, you reply wryly.

“No, he wasn't lying. He hasn't said a single false word since we arrived,” Camilla shakes her head, “Whatever happened here, he's not a part of it.”

[2/3]

>>736756

Hypothetical scenario, you begin as you search the documents left behind, Yvette had a friend in place to clear out her office if something went wrong. When the Majestic got close enough, she used the radio equipment to get in contact with this friend and give the order. How does that sound?

“It sounds entirely plausible to me,” Camilla agrees, “And it suggests that she's had something to hide for a while now. Murdering those Ministry agents might just be her most overt sin.”

The more you look at this, you grunt as you flip through a book, the less you like it. Putting that book back, you take down another and start to leaf through the pages. Just another terrible novel, all overwrought language and exaggerated drama, and then you strike lucky. Left in the book, marking a particular page, is a scrap torn from a larger letter. It's crumpled up, like it was screwed up and thrown away, but it's not old. You skim it, and then read it again – slowly this time.

“Please remember that you have a place here,” the letter reads, “Your family were foolish, to wager so much on the north, but that can be forgiven. It has come to our attention that you will be granted command of a vessel, one equipped with the newest weapons and armour. We want this ship. Bring it to us, and you will have a place in...”

The scrap ends there, leaving no indication of who sent the letter. Frowning, you pass the letter across to Camilla. As she reads the letter, she matches your scowl with one of her own. “They wanted the Majestic,” she says, “That's Ministry property, it's not hers to give away.”

Just one more reason to track her down, you agree, one more crime to answer for.

-

Searching for a while longer reveals nothing else, leaving you with a letter fragment as your only clue. With a dark mood churning in your mind, you start to leave when Kaspar lurches out of the parlour.

“If I may be so bold as to ask, were you able to find anything?” he asks – pleads, almost, “Anything at all?”

>There was nothing. I'm sorry, but we've done all we can here
>I found this scrap of letter. Does it mean anything to you?
>Have you had any guests recently? Visitors perhaps?
>I had a question to ask you... (Write in)
>Other

>>736856
>>Have you had any guests recently? Visitors perhaps?

>>736856
>I found this scrap of letter. Does it mean anything to you?
>Have you had any guests recently? Visitors perhaps?

>>736856
>Have you had any guests recently? Visitors perhaps?

Yvette isn't a cautious person.

>>736870
Don't mention the letter, poor Kaspar will have a stroke at the thought Yvette could steal Ministry property.

>>736856
>>Have you had any guests recently? Visitors perhaps?
On the off-chance that the person(s) who cleaned out Yvette's office didn't take a secret passage in, or something.

Have any guests been staying at the manor recently, you ask, any visitors perhaps? Anyone, in other words, who might have access to Yvette's office or the materials inside.

“Visitors? No, other than the, ahem, the gathering we hosted recently. That, however, was more than a fortnight ago,” Kaspar looks dearly regretful – but then, he almost always does – for a moment before his brows dip in a frown, “But... there was... maybe...”

You wait, with increasingly strained patience, as the old man searches his memory.

“It's a very little thing, and I barely noticed it at the time,” he says eventually, “But yesterday morning, when I woke and started to sweep the hall, I noticed an abnormality. Follow me, please.” With his head bowed, Kaspar shuffles over to the entrance and points down to a pair of old leather shoes, the sort that have been patched and repaired until nothing of the original shoes remains. “My outside shoes,” the butler declares, “I always leave them here, and they are always straight. Except for that morning, when they were... out of place. I don't wish to make an accusation, but it was almost as though someone had knocked them aside. They were perfectly in place when I retired for the night, I'm certain of that.”

It takes you a moment to realise his implication. He's suggesting an intruder, you offer, someone breaking in during the night.

“As I said, I don't wish to make an accusation of such severity with only a pair of shoes as evidence,” Kaspar mumbles, “But it would, perhaps, explain these irregularities. A skilled thief could defeat the locks. They are, I must admit, getting old and worn out.”

It would certainly fit into your theory – Yvette's nameless “friend” stealing in overnight to clear out any sensitive documents, only to overlook what appeared to be an innocent bookmark. On their way out, perhaps hurrying, they knocked the shoes left by the door.

“Did the local soldiers have any reports of break-ins or figures seen moving about at night?” Camilla asks, “Have any of the other families complained about such things?”

“Not that I've heard, no,” Kaspar shakes his head slowly, “Crime, I'm told, is at an all time low – at least, within the walls of the noble district. It never occurred to me until now that this may have been a real break-in. We don't have that kind of behaviour here.”

Camilla nods slightly – the old man is as honest as ever – and you accept his story with a nod of your own. You're finished here, you tell him gently, you'll leave him in peace now. If your search reveals anything, you'll be sure to keep him informed.

“Thank you, thank you,” he nods eagerly, “I only wish I could have been more help...”

He's still thanking you as you leave, and you swear you hear his voice even after the door has swung shut behind you.

[1/2]

>>736988

“You didn't mention that letter,” Camilla points out, as you're walking away.

No point, you tell her, it was Yvette's private mail – you doubt he would have known anything about it, especially since it was so vague. Maybe if you'd had a more complete letter – something with a name or some other evidence – but there was no point in giving him a fragment like that. Especially not one that implicated Yvette in some greater conspiracy, you add. Let him remember her as a good citizen, if it gives him comfort.

“I didn't think you'd be so thoughtful,” Camilla smiles faintly, “But I think you're right. There's not much information there. Still, it does make me wonder...” Letting her words trail off, she places a cigarette in one corner of her mouth. “You know, I've heard that there's a growing independence movement down in the southern colonies,” she mentions after a while, “A ship like the Majestic, something with real firepower, could really advance their cause.”

Is that her theory, you ask, but what would the southerners have to offer Yvette in return?

“Her family's land back, for one thing,” she suggests, “It's not quite their grand northern palace, but she might still see it as her birthright. Plus, there was that erased branch of her family tree – maybe they own the land, and she think she's doing her family duty. Of course, that presumes that this was all deliberate, planned out from the start. I don't think it was.”

No, you agree, she was really set on reclaiming the north. At least, until she was called upon to shell her family home and murdered those men. Then, she panicked and fled. Maybe this, all of this, is just desperate improvisation. That would explain why things have been so sloppy at points, at least.

“I suppose we'll have to ask her ourselves, face to face,” Camilla crushes her cigarette with a kind of vicious glee, “I don't know about you, but I'm looking forwards to it.”

-

After a short wander through the city streets, you resign yourself to your fate and lead Camilla back to your tenement block. Whatever else happens, you need to drop off your luggage and pack a new back for your trip south. It's going to be a long one this time, the kind that makes the journey north look like a short hop in comparison. Lize, at least, deserves to know that you'll be gone for a good while longer. Standing at the foot of the stairs, you give Camilla a vague warning. You've got someone staying at your apartment, you tell her, a girl. It's kind of a favour for a friend, giving her a roof over her head and keeping her out of trouble.

It's more or less the truth. A version of the truth, at least.

[2/3]

File: Lize - Cold Weather.jpg (67 KB, 498x757)

67 KB JPG

>>737095

“Henryk, you're back!” Lize cheers as you enter, although the words die on her lips when she sees Camilla, “And... you've got a friend.”

This is Eliza, you tell Camilla, she's been staying here for while just like you said. Having announced that, you greet Lize with a smile – one that urges caution.

“Yeah, we got a system going,” nodding slowly, Lize waves to Camilla, “I look after things while Henryk is away. Since, you know, he's away so much. It's a really good system, it works great! Alyssia – oh yeah, she's our neighbour – stops in as well, every so often. She's pretty cool, for a...” Lize pauses, the word “northerner” - or perhaps “barbarian” - hanging from the tip of her tongue. “For an adult,” she finishes instead, salvaging something from the mess she almost got you both in.

“Well...” Camilla looks faintly bewildered, but in an amused kind of way, “I can see that you've got a system, and it works for you. It must be, ah, nice to have someone to come back to, Henryk.” An awkward silence descends, and nobody quite seems to know what to say. In the end, Camilla takes the plunge and offers a comment. “It's a nice apartment,” she tells you, “Very... uncluttered. Do you like it, Eliza?”

“Oh yeah, it's cool,” Lize nods, “You should see the trophy shelf. All kinds of dead stuff there, it's neat!”

And the awkward silence descends once more.

-

Slowly but surely, the three of you find a comfortable rhythm and the conversation begins to flow more smoothly. Camilla tells a few stories about her time in Port Steyr – particularly clueless criminals, or stupid habits some of her colleagues had – and Lize listens eagerly, holding back from saying too much about herself. Leaving them to it, you start to unpack your bags. When you draw out the fragment of the White Tyrant's spear, though, Lize lets out a faint cry.

“That's a sword!” she announces, the words spilling from her mouth in a rush, “No, that's King Leonhard's sword! Tsorig had it ceremonially broken after he defeated Leonhard, and some of the Knights took that as a grave insult. They rose up and stole the tip of the blade, fleeing and vanishing in the north! I never thought I'd see it, with my own eyes!”

In the silence that follows this rush of words, you clear your throat lightly.

“Uh, I mean, I've read about it,” Lize clarifies, “In books, y'know?”

She likes history, you add, the really old kind of history in particular.

>I'm going to have to pause here for a bit, maybe an hour. Things aren't flowing very well today, I'm afraid.

>>737249
>that Lize
PERFECTION

>Select around the street signs
FUCK IS THIS SHIT

>>737249
Take your time man

>>737249
>All kinds of dead stuff there, it's neat!”
Lize why are you so best. That gush was adorable too, she really is gonna be happy with having a knife made out of it.

>>737249
Well, if Lize had that kind of reaction, then taking that bit of sword along was a stroke of brilliance. It seems like it would make a good gift for her.

And, yeah, take your time, Moloch. The quest is pretty great, but you're more important, yeah?

This time, it was your turn to throw together the leftovers and perishable ingredients to make something that approximates a meal. It was safer to handle the cooking yourself, even if it left Camilla and Lize to chat amongst themselves for a while longer. Lize's little outburst – and you know in your gut that she didn't get all that from any history book – had somewhat soured the mood, but it seems to have bounced back. Judging by that unique kind of feminine laughter that reaches your ears, they must be gossiping about you.

It feels nice, in a way, to have so many lively voices in your apartment. Not something you're used to, but you could probably grow to like it. With three plates of food balanced in your hands, you sit down at the table and join them.

“So yeah,” Lize asks as you all start to pick at the food, “How do you two know each other, anyway? I mean, are you friends, or...”

That's a question that neither you nor Camilla can easily answer, and the pause that follows causes Lize to cackle with laughter. “Nah, you don't need to say anything,” she chuckles, “I see how it is. That's cool, nothing to be ashamed of. I mean, it's cold up north, right?”

That, you tell her sternly, is nothing to do with why you're here. You wanted to tell her that you'll be going away soon. It's work, and you don't know how long you'll be gone. Maybe longer than normal, although you couldn't say how long. You can't say much about the kind of work you'll be doing either.

“Oh... right. I get you,” the smile fades from Lize's face, and she looks between you and Camilla, “It's that kind of thing. No, I mean, I understand – you'd get in trouble if you said too much. It's cool, I don't mind sticking around here. Again. Hey, at least we're not due to get any bad storms this time, right?”

True enough, you agree, a small mercy.

-

Later, after the plain meal was abandoned, Lize declared that she would take a walk. She was already halfway out the apartment when she announced this, and your response – reminding her to be careful – was met with the closed door. Sighing, you slump back in your seat.

“I'm seeing a whole new side to you,” Camilla says, with a faint smile, “I never thought you'd be the type to like kids. Hell, even tolerate them.”

Honestly, you grunt, you're as surprised as she is. You're sorry about Eliza, though - she's got a major problem with speaking before she thinks. In either case, you add, she's not really a kid – she's more mature than she lets on, when the situation calls for it.

“Still, I like her,” with a shrug, Camilla's smile deepens a little, “She makes a nice change from the dour folk I had to deal with up in Port Steyr. She's got... spirit.”

She's not wrong there.

[1/2]

>>737547
>“It's that kind of thing. No, I mean, I understand – you'd get in trouble if you said too much.

desu if Camilla wasn't here we'd probably tell her everything cause why not.

>>737547
How bad of an idea would it be to bring Lize along?

>>737591
Pretty bad. This is a manhunt which could involve shooting people down. Not something I'd want to bring her along to even if there was no risk.

>>737591

Yer itl be bad and messy
Probs have something to do with the south fighting to govern themslfs.
Also killing off a noble blood line mybe?

>>737547

“Anyway, I've seen stranger friendships,” Camilla seemingly dismisses the issue with a shrug, “I'll admit, though, I'm fairly curious how you met. I can't quite imagine what would have given a Hunter cause to cross paths with a girl like her.”

You consider the issue for a while before giving an answer – one that just skirts up against the truth. She was running away from home, you tell Camilla quietly, and she ended up stowing away on your ship. You found her, things got a little hectic, and you wound up bringing her back here for a few nights.

“A few nights, huh?” Camilla laughs, “Why was she running away?”

It was pretty rough back there, you reply vaguely, her family has some issues. Health issues, among other things. You could have sent her back there, but she would have just fled again as soon as she could. At least this way, she has a roof over her head and a safe home. Everything a growing kid needs, you had with a bitter smile. At the sight of that smile – almost a grimace – Camilla reaches over and pats you on the shoulder.

“Perhaps its not my place to say, but I think you've done right by her. Like you said, she's got a good home this way. Besides – you're not keeping her prisoner, are you?” Camilla gestures at the door, “She's free to leave at any time.”

Yeah, you tell Camilla with a weary smile, but there's the real problem – she keeps coming back.

“That's your fault,” she shoots back, “Didn't anyone ever tell you not to feed strays? It just encourages them.”

At that, you share a long, honest laugh. It might well be the last laugh you can allow yourself for a while, so you're damn well going to make the most of it.

>I'm going to pause things here, I'm afraid. I hope to pick things up again on either Sunday or Monday, and I can stick around in case of any questions or comments.
>I'm sorry for things being slow today, next run should be better.

>>737788
No problem. Take care.

>>737788
It's no bother. Thanks for running!

>>737788
Thanks for running Moloch

>>737788
Thanks for running!

>>737788
did Lize take that sword tip with her?

>>737788
Before we leave we should tell Alyssia that Hyde is alright. A little beat up, but alive.

>>739145
This is a good idea

>>739145
And he did a damn good job too, getting the doors open while being set upon by half an army.

>>739145
Alive, a hero, and needing some care.

If only there was maybe someone who knew the north and was willing to go tend to him.

>>739515
Hyde will probably be coming back down. Jobs done and he's wounded. Time for R&R.

>>739535

More like dnv

Camilla is sleeping on the couch when Lize returns, the soft sound of her snores continuing, unbroken, as the girl carefully shuts the door. Taking a moment to study Camilla's sleeping form, Lize gives you a weary look, one that almost seems to say “Well where am I supposed to sleep?”

You just shrug and nod to the seat opposite you. You might as well talk some things over while you have the chance.

“Whenever someone tells me that – that we need to “talk some things over” - I start to get worried,” Lize complains, nevertheless sliding into the chair and leaning close, “Alright then, let's get it over with. Have you decided on a date?”

A date, you repeat after a moment, for what?

“The wedding, of course,” Lize tells you, her eyes wide with deliberate insincerity. Chuckling at your speechless reaction, she waves a hand though the air to dismiss the idea. “I'm kidding,” she promises, “I'm just pulling your leg. No, I get what you wanted to talk to me about. It's that mystery business you couldn't mention earlier. It's got something to do with her, doesn't it? Not Camilla, I mean. Her.”

That's right, you confirm, Artemis has her own role to play in this. Camilla doesn't know that, of course, and you'd like to keep it that way for now. It's more simple this way, especially if you don't have to feel like a madman trying to explain the situation to Camilla.

“Just be honest, she'll understand. Just tell her you've got this ancient, bloodthirsty goddess hanging out in your dreams telling you to kill weird shit,” Lize shrugs, pauses for a moment, and then leans closer to you, “Don't... actually tell her that.”

You didn't plan on, you assure Lize, you really didn't plan on saying that.

-

Slowly, in a low and precise voice, you lay out the trail of events that occurred in the north. Occasionally punctuating your story, you tell Lize about everything from leaving Port Daud to fighting the White Tyrant. As you talk, she turns the broken fragment of blade over in her hands and listens with a fierce concentration, soaking in every detail. Like a river, the words of your story flow neatly into Yvette's flight and your role in pursuing her. When there is nothing left for you to say, you lapse into a silence and finish with a shrug.

So there, you tell Lize after a pause, now you've told your side of the story. What did she get up to while you were gone?

“I, uh, I...” it takes a moment for Lize to find her voice once more, “I played a few games of chess with Alyssia, I guess. Not what you'd call exciting, right?”

Leaning back in your seat, you take in the scene around you - Lize hanging on your words, and Camilla napping on the couch. Sometimes, you tell Lize, it's nice to get a break from “exciting”.

[1/3]

>>746458

“Well, anyway, you should-” Lize's words are cut off by a tremendous yawn, and it takes her a moment to pick up the thread left dangling, “Uh... right, yeah. You should tell Alyssia about it and all. I wager she'd be glad to hear about Hyde coming back safe and... more or less safe, I mean. Man, I gotta get some sleep, I can barely string two damn words together.” She glances across at the couch – at Camilla's sleeping form – and then gives you a faintly pleading look.

Sighing heavily, you give her a grudging nod. Fine, you mutter, she can use your bed for the night. You'll let Camilla sleep a while longer before rousing her. Between the two of you – two mature, responsible adults – you're certain to work something out.

“I just bet,” Lize whispers to herself, her hushed words followed by a dirty chuckle. Before you can offer a scolding response, she slips from the chair and skips off.

Fine, you grunt, you walked into that one.

-

After Lize has left the scene, you stand up and turn the lights off. Darkness washes over you, but your eyes soon adjust to pierce the gloom. Regarding Camilla's silhouette for a moment longer, you decide to leave her a little more. Telling your tale did a good job of waking you up, in either case. Moving carefully, trying not to make a sound, you cross over to the window and draw back the curtain. The streets below are dark, and very peaceful – as you would expect them to be, at this time of night.

Which is why, when your eye falls on a faint shape, the blood turns to ice water in your veins. Lurking in an alleyway opposite your building is an unmistakably human shape, although distance has robbed it of any detail or definition. Forcing yourself to keep that same unhurried pace, you search out an old pair of binoculars and focus them on the figure. Definitely a person, although a thick coat, scarf and hat hides much of his – even that much is a guess, based purely on height – features.

What business, you ask yourself, could keep a man out in the streets this late? He's not going anywhere, he's just lingering – watching or waiting for something. It may be paranoia, but you can't bring yourself to see this as a mere coincidence. Of all the tenement blocks in Thar Dreyse, he has to be watching yours.

Your immediate thought, of course, is to rush out and confront the skulker. Chase him down and get some answers out of him. Caution soon prevails, however, and you force yourself to be still. You'll think this over, you decide, and then – maybe – you'll chase him down and beat some information out of him.

Wake up, you mutter as you gently shake Camilla awake, you've got a situation here.

[2/3]

>>746462

“You're right, this smells of trouble,” Camilla mutters to you – for some reason, you've both started speaking in conspiratorial whispers – as she peers out the window, “Reeks of it, in fact. You've never seen anyone hanging around this part of town before?”

Not alone, you reply, and not this time of night.

“Maybe this is Yvette's “friend”, here to keep covering her tracks. It's strange, though – I never noticed anyone following us back,” a note of concern enters her voice, and her brows dip in a low frown, “Did you?”

No, you reply, you didn't notice. He's no clumsy amateur, this skulking figure. A trained professional, if you had to guess, maybe even another Wolf. Rushing out to force a confrontation might well be a risk, especially if he has friends hidden away and waiting. He'd see you coming, as well – he's got a good view of your front door from here.

“Maybe he wants you to chase him,” Camilla warns, “Either to lead you into an ambush, or to distract you. Lead you on a meaningless chase while his friends carry out their own duties, perhaps. Though... I couldn't say what those duties might be. Breaking in and searching the place, maybe.”

Scowling hard, you stare out at that distant figure. It's frustrating, having a potential source of information lurking just barely out of your grasp, but you have to balance risk and reward. You know to be on the lookout for someone following your trail now – that alone is a gift.

“So how do you want to play this?” Camilla asks, “This is your territory, I'll follow your lead on this one.”

>Leave him for now. Confronting him is too much risk
>Stay here, I'm going out to have a little “talk”
>We'll go out together. He can't run from both of us
>Other

>>746464
>>Stay here, I'm going out to have a little “talk”
"Protect this place in case your hunch about leading me away is correct."

>>746464
>>Stay here, I'm going out to have a little “talk”

>>746464
>Stay here, I'm going out to have a little “talk”

Maybe we can pretend we are going to Iosefka's and see if he follows in which we ambush him. If he doesn't follow we wrap around and see if we can get the jump on him in his alley.

Stay here, you tell Camilla, and keep an eye on the apartment. You're going out to have a little “talk” with your curious new friend, and you want someone here in case her hunch was accurate.

“Right, you'll get no complaints from me,” Camilla nods, taking her holster from the back of the couch and slipping her pistol free, “Be careful out there. There's no way of knowing who might be lying in wait. No way of knowing how our good friend down there will react to seeing you, either... although I don't expect he'll be greeting you warmly.”

No, you agree as you check your own pistol, you expect not. Still, there's no harm in being neighbourly and saying hello. Pulling on a heavy coat, you hide the pistol away along with your blade. As you start for the door, Camilla speaks up once more.

“Henryk?” she says, “I meant what I said. Don't take any stupid risks out there. If you think you're walking into trouble...”

You'll be careful, you assure her, you're not about to die in some dark alley after everything else you've been through. Not while you've got bigger prey to chase after.

-

Taking the stairs two at a time, you hurry down to the ground floor of the tenement and peer through the barred window. The angle isn't quite so clear here, but you can see the figure peeking out of his alcove. Watching the front door like a hawk, you note, never letting his gaze wander for a minute. Turning up the collar of your coat, you take a deep breath to prepare yourself and then you leave the building. Pushing the front door open with a deliberate ease – your every movement designed to appear nonchalant and unsuspecting – you stride out into the cold night air.

Once outside, you immediately turn left and head down the street, your eyes seemingly fixed on the path ahead of you. You're just heading to your local bar, you think, without a single care in the world. Nothing to see here. Before you've turned completely, however, your eyes flick out to the side. At the sight of you appearing, the skulker backs deeper away into his alleyway, drawing back and turning away. The last thing you see of him is his casually retreating back, and then your path cuts the line of sight.

In the space of a single moment, you cast off the clueless guise and take on a more familiar pace. Moving quickly and quietly, you cross the street and double back on yourself, returning to his hiding place. Snow crunches softly underfoot as you slip into the mouth of the alley, meeting the empty alcove. No branching paths – yet – so following him should be easy enough.

>Hurry and catch up with the man
>Hang back and follow his trail
>Use your Wolf's Blood to follow his scent (Focus)
>Other

>>746532
>Use your Wolf's Blood to follow his scent (Focus)
We got prey to track.

>Sorry, quick clarification. Hurrying would be to catch him as soon as possible. Trailing him would be to see where he goes. Just wanted to make that clear

>>746532
>>Hurry and catch up with the man
don't use Focus just yet, might be better if we have to track him among multiple people after an ambush or something

>>746535
How long does Wolf's Blood last?

>>746532
>>Hurry and catch up with the man
If we can stealthly gain on him that would be best.

>>746540

>It has a very long duration, so long as the scent we're tracking is still alive. Timing, in other words, is not a particular concern in this case.

>>746538
It might be better to do it earlier. If there is an ambush waiting for us we can sniff it out beforehand and the increased strength/agility will help in subduing him.

>>746552
Oh well we might as well use it then.

I know I'm a bit late but how likely is it that it's actually Yvette's pal? Unless they were watching her house, they would have no idea anyone, much less us specially, is on their trail.

>>746559
Could be part of the group that broke into Yvette's place. Could be one of Yvette's people. Hell could be Loch's agent just keeping an eye on us.

>>746560
>Could be part of the group that broke into Yvette's place.
>Could be one of Yvette's people.
Are they not the same person/group? Could be Loch's guy, if he turns out to be a bit of a douche. Just can't help thinking this is some goose chase for a silly purse snatcher or something.

>>746565
Eh watching our place only at this time if night and leaving when we leave is too much of a coincidence for it to be a purse snatcher.

The snow underfoot offer a thin trail to follow – patchy and broken, yet it's still a trail – but you don't plan on relying too much on it. You aim to catch up with your stalker, confronting him before he can slink away into whatever den he's made for himself. So – move quickly, and close the distance between you. A nice secluded alleyway might not be the perfect place to have a quiet word with him, but it's private enough to ward off passing eyes.

As you start to move forwards, you feel your senses growing sharper – the Wolf's Blood within you rising up almost of its own volition. Something about this, the thrill of the chase as Camilla might have called it, has roused your senses. When the scent you're tracking takes hold of you, you learn why. It's a thin scent, but sharp with the taint of beasts. It's a Wolf you're following, although one that's little more than a pup. Young, his blood still fresh and far from potency.

[Focus remaining: 0]

You've never been able to learn so much, just from a breath. Your own blood is potent – terribly so – and it burns through your veins with a strength that is barely human. Snarling involuntarily, you begin to run through the cramped alleyway, your body so light that you might as well be flying along. Rank stenches – garbage, filth and pollution – tug at you, seeking fruitlessly to distract you from the chase, but you thrust away all diversions.

The world retreats, shrinking away until it's just you and the younger Wolf. His is the only blood you can sense out here, save for the weak presence of men and women cowering indoors. He's alone, with no friends or allies to run to.

Perfect.

-

His scent draws you closer, and one further corner is all it takes to reveal him. Even moving quickly, you're quiet enough that he only turns at the last minute, just in time for you to barge into him. Seizing the front of his coat in a tight grip, you spin him around and slam him up against the alley wall. He cries out in pain, his voice thin, and you waste no time in ripping away the scarf that covers his face.

He's younger than you expected, and a desperate light burn within his eyes. That flash of desperate panic – not just fear, but genuine terror – is enough to make you pause for a split second. Enough, at least, for him to throw a weak punch at your side. Through the thick padding of your coat, the punch does little more than knock your hands away. Free of your grip, the young Hunter scrabbles to flee, breaking and running.

You're quicker, your leg lashing out in a low kick that sweeps him off his feet. Cursing aloud, the young man rolls onto his front – this time, he has a gleaming knife held in his hands.

Not the most convincing threat you've ever seen.

>Calling for a Physical Combat roll. That's 1D100+20, aiming to beat 60/80. I'll take the highest of the first three results

Rolled 80 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>746578

Rolled 7 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>746578

>>746582
Nice

Rolled 67 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>746578

>>746582
well that's that then

Before the young pup can do much more than jab the knife in your vague direction, you're moving to close the distance between you. With a tight, savage burst of motion, you kick out and knock the knife from his grip. Bones crack in his hand as your foot makes contact, and the young man stiffens, the blood rushing from his face as he opens his mouth to cry out. As the knife clatters away somewhere in the distance, you lunge down and clap a hand over his mouth, silencing his scream before he can give it voice.

Don't call out, you snarl, don't even talk unless you say so. Crouching down until you're practically sitting on his chest, you draw your knife and touch it to his bare neck. The stench of his fear is delicious, and the realisation that you're enjoying this is a shameful one. This was barely a fight, not something you should be savouring...

And yet, the sight of his eyes – pale and wide against a grey face – sends a thrill down your spine.

His name, you ask as you take your hand away, what's his name?

“Stefan,” he whispers, “Stefan Neuberg.”

Good, you nod, he knows how to obey commands. This relationship is off to a good start. Now then, you add, why was he waiting outside your tenement block? And before he thinks of lying and saying he wasn't, you say as you touch the cold knife against his skin, think very carefully.

“Okay. Okay, look, okay,” Stefan babbles for a moment before swallowing hard, “I was watching your place. I admit it, I was. Let's just... we can talk this over, man, this isn't what you think it is.”

Really, you ask lightly, and what are you supposed to think this is?

“Uh, I don't... know,” the young man looks like he's about to shake his head, but then he remembers the knife and reconsiders, “Okay, I was following you. I've been following you for a while, ever since you left that manor, but I don't know much about anything. I don't even know who lives there!”

So he doesn't know who lives there, but he followed you after you visited it. Perhaps he should explain himself a little better. Start from the beginning, perhaps.

“I needed money, okay? Lots of it, and quick. Some guy heard that I needed help, and he came to me with a job. Real simple, and he said nobody would get hurt. All I had to do was watch this manor, and see if anyone visited it. If anyone did, I was to follow them. Learn about them,” Stefan swallows heavily, “That's all. No... breaking in, no hurting anyone. Just watching and following. I just figured...”

What, you ask, did he figure?

“I thought it was easy money,” he whines, “I never thought THIS would happen!”

[1/2]

>>746611
He's alright. Shame we broke his hand, could have had another assistant. He really was related though, so it turns out we did good.

>>746618
Can't take in every stray. I say in exchange for giving us all the information about his employer that he can he gets to walk and get the hell out of town.

>>746611
Aww, poor guy. He didn't even know we're a Wolf, doesn't he?

>>746611

Standing, you haul Stefan upright and pushing him back against the wall – this time, at least, without such brutal and careless strength. His broken hand hangs by his side, twisted fingers shaking as he young man trembles. He's no danger to anyone in this state but even so, you don't let your guard down. He said he needed money, you ask sharply, why? Doesn't the League pay enough these days?

“I got in a bad hole. Cards, y'know? I was sure I could win everything back, so... I borrowed some cash. I didn't... exactly go to some good people for it, and now I've got some thugs threatening to break my legs. I was desperate, so when this offer came along...” he grimaces, “C'mon man, what would you have done, if you were in my place?”

Brushing aside his pleading question, you counter with one of your own. This offer, you ask, did he get it face to face? Could he describe how he got it?

“The guy found me, I didn't find him,” Stefan shakes his head, “We got talking in a bar. It was dark, and I don't remember him all that clearly. He was just... a guy. Smart sounding, got a face ladies might like, but he never gave me a name. Just said he was... working for an organisation, one that had all kinds of money. That's all he needed to say, man, and I was hooked. Sure, yeah, maybe I should have thought it over, but I didn't. Sure as hell regretting that now...”

How was he supposed to get in contact with this man, you press, if he needed to report something?

“Fucking weird, man, I'll tell you. I was supposed to send the details in a telegraph,” his face clouds with confusion, “But, see, I was supposed to send it to MYSELF. Like, how is that supposed to work?”

You've got a few ideas about that, but you just shake your head at him. You'll talk this over with Camilla later, see if she can offer any comment.

“Look man, I'll tell you whatever you want, but just don't kill me,” Stefan's voice takes on a faint whine, as if your silence has unnerved him more than your hard questions ever had, “I mean, c'mon. You don't want want to have a dead body on your hands, right? We can work this out...”

>The man you met. What was the impression you got from him?
>Did anyone else visit the manor you were watching?
>I've decided what I'm going to do with you
>I had a question for you... (Write in)
>Other

>>746666
>>The man you met. What was the impression you got from him?
>>Did anyone else visit the manor you were watching?
Well now he can have a broken hand to match those broken legs!

>>746666
>>The man you met. What was the impression you got from him?
>>Did anyone else visit the manor you were watching?
Lead one, did he see the person who cleaned out the office? And perhaps a lead two, the guy who sent him on this job.

>>746666
>>The man you met. What was the impression you got from him?
>>Did anyone else visit the manor you were watching?
>>I've decided what I'm going to do with you
"You're going to go North to help out at Port Tyrant. They need all the men they can get up there and it seems you need a job and money. I'm sure they can find a use for a young Wolf like yourself."

>>746677
Supporting

>>746666
>The man you met. What was the impression you got from him?
>Did anyone else visit the manor you were watching?

>>746677
How many people know about that though? Seems like we'd be spilling some beans by dropping that. Not to mention he's got a bit of a gambling issue.

>>746690
Soldiers are already spilling the beans at Steyr after we left. It'll be common knowledge soon enough.

I don't think the Ministry dudes up there will tolerate gambling. I imagine they run a tight ship. If he wants to fuck up and gamble that's on him. All we are doing is giving him a job.

>>746677
This is the best for him, maybe point out that his employer most certainly expect him to get killed if he's found out. The money they promised him will never reach him.

>Why you ask? Because that's what I'd do if I used a young pup knowing that whoever came to snoop around would be an experienced Hunter.

>>746666
This:
>>746677

>>746677
supporting

Going back to this man he met, you press, what was the impression he got?

“I told you man, I didn't see him much,” Stefan shakes his head, “But... I don't know, he scared me a little. Not like you, I mean, but... The guys I borrowed that money from, they were serious, but they were nothing compared with this guy. It was like he was part of something big, so big that they wouldn't even notice if I died. Hell, like they wouldn't notice if a whole tenement died. He had that kind of power, but he was still polite. Just... totally calm, and he didn't miss a detail. Hell, he even told me which post office to send my telegraph from. Who even thinks like that?”

Someone, you think to yourself, with an agent within that particular post office. You're likely looking at someone with connections within the Ministry, possibly even someone high up within that very same organisation. Not exactly a short list of people – how many polite, smart sounding men must there be within the Ministry?

Pushing aside that issue for now, you focus on whatever Stefan might be able to tell you. A small cog like him can only know so much, but you want whatever information he can share. Did he see anyone visiting the manor he was watching, you ask, anyone at all?

“Just the lady you were with,” the young Hunter shakes his head, “But, hey, I gotta warn you – I wasn't there all day. I'm pretty sure there's another guy with the same job, and we take shifts. He works nights, I guess.”

How does he know that, you ask, and how can he be so sure?

“Okay, look, there's this empty manor. It's abandoned, or the family are in on this, whatever. Anyway, there's an attic room with a good view of the place I had to watch. It's sheltered and all, better than hanging out in an alleyway all day...” Stefan shivers, as if making some kind of point, “And someone left their stuff there. A book, a thick blanket, that kinda stuff. I mean, at least I clean up after myself!” Stefan starts to reach for his pocket, only to freeze as you lunge forwards to grab his wrist. “Shit man, I'm sorry!” he yelps, “I got a key, a key to the manor – I was gonna give it to you, man, I was gonna hand it over.”

Offering him a humourless - but vaguely apologetic - smile, you release his wrist and allow him to pull a worn brass key out of his pocket. Nothing special about the key at first glance, but you pocket it for later examination.

“See? I'm cooperating, I'm helping you out,” Stefan offers you a sickly grin, his skin appearing sallow in the moonlight, “So how about you help me out and all? Or... let me go, at least?”

Calm down, you urge, you've decided what to do with him.

[1/2]

>>746720

You want him to head north, you tell Stefan, to Port Steyr. Volunteer to help the ongoing efforts up there – they're going to need all the help they can get in the coming days. The pay will be good, and it's a good place to hide out for a while. With a little luck, he might well be too busy to get in any more gambling troubles.

“Port Steyr...” Stefan mumbles, “I don't know...”

What, you press, doesn't he like the cold?

“No man, I mean... I've never actually been that far north before,” his voice trembles here, a quaver that betrays his youth, “Feels like kind of a big deal.”

You'll be honest with him, you reply bluntly, it's the best place for him. These men who offered him a job, broken legs will be the last of his worries if they hear that he's said so much. If he sticks around in the capital, he's only going to be putting himself in more danger... and they're not exactly going to pay him, either.

“Those bastards...” Stefan mumbles, “But, how are you so sure? That they'd, uh...”

That they'd kill him? Because it's what you'd do, you tell him calmly. Maybe they never expected him to survive in the first place, setting a pup like him up against a Wolf like you. Whatever their motives, the end result is the same – he'd better skip town as soon as possible. And, just in case this needed to be made clear, he shouldn't mention anything about you. Not a single detail.

“Yeah man, I get you,” he whispers, “I mean, I never saw you. I never met you, we never even had this conversation... right?”

Perfect, you assure him, he's a quick learner. Stepping back, you nod towards the alleyway's exit. Stefan takes a few tentative steps in that direction, pauses as if waiting for a bullet or a knife in the back, and then dashes off into the night.

Weighing the brass key in your hand, you set off back to your tenement. A few more pieces of the puzzle are falling into place, and you didn't even have to kill anyone in the process.

This is turning out to be a good day.

-

Back at the apartment, the first thing you see is the yawning barrel of Camilla's pistol. When she sees that it's you, and not some faceless attacker, she lowers the pistol and sets it aside. “Welcome back,” she tells you warmly, “Did you make a new friend?”

He was a little shy at first, you reply drily, but he soon opened up to you. After that, the two of you had a nice long conversation – long, and fairly interesting. Sitting opposite Camilla, you recount the details of the conversation, everything that Stefan told you.

Camilla takes careful notes, lending the whole process a vaguely official feel.

[2/3]

>>746761

“It's certainly old enough to be genuine,” she offers when you finish your account and show her the key, “And ornate enough to be made for a noble manor. Curious, though – nothing in the way of crests, insignia or specific decorations. Nothing, in other words, that might tie it to a single family.”

Quite deliberate of course, you guess, one more little misdirection. More unanswered questions.

“I'm starting to miss Port Steyr,” Camilla remarks with a bitter smile, “But not much. This is at least interesting, wouldn't you say?”

That's certainly one way of putting it.

“Speaking of Port Steyr, I think you did the right thing sending this Stefan there. From what you've told me, I don't think he deserved to die. He's just a fool that got out of his depth,” shrugging, Camilla leans back, “And you're not wrong. They'll need all the help they can get. Even a fool with a broken hand can be of some use. I'm surprised that he'd never been that far north, though. I thought Hunters often visited Port Steyr as part of their training.”

It's not an official part of the training, you reply, more of a tradition than anything else. A trial by fire, if you're being honest, and a particularly cruel one at that. Not something you'd care to dwell on, either.

“You're right, we've got business to attend to. This attic room,” Camilla taps the key, “If Stefan was keeping watch during the day, there might be someone else there now. The same person who was keeping watch when the Saive Manor was broken into, perhaps.”

You'd give it good odds, you agree, it might be worth investigating this as well.

“One warning, Henryk,” holding up a hand, Camilla urges caution, “Stefan running, that could be passed off a a coincidence. Both agents going dark in a single night? That could set off some alarms, maybe draw down some unwelcome attention. All I'm saying is, there are risks involved here – we're not dealing with mindless beasts.”

>I know that. Even so, I'm going to check this out. Stay here while I look into this
>I think we should investigate this one together
>Leave this matter for now. Better to stay quiet for a while longer
>Other

>>746823

>I think we should investigate this one together

Yes hi there sadly i dont think il be able to play after this post work calls.

>>746823
>>I think we should investigate this one together
If they don't get any reports back, there's no way to link us to them. They might just hire some new guys that wouldn't know about us and we might catch a trail of Yvette's buddy.

>>746823
>>I think we should investigate this one together

>>746823
>I know that. Even so, I'm going to check this out. Stay here while I look into this
If they find out the other wolf went missing after tailing us here they'll come investigate our apartment immediately. I don't wanna leave Alize here alone when that happens.

>>746823
>>Leave this matter for now. Better to stay quiet for a while longer
>I think we should investigate this one together
"Let's investigate this attic during the day when Stefan is supposed to be there. We should have free run of the place. Could be there is a chance that this other agent is just some poor sap like Stefan so interrogating him might not help all that much other than making their higher ups more suspicious like you said."

>>746838
I don't think he's reported anything yet.

You should check this one together, you tell Camilla, just to be careful. It's a risk, hitting both agents in a single night, but you want to get as much information as you can. If you take them out without letting them send any reports, they won't have anything to point back to you. It might set alarm bells ringing, but it won't bring trouble back to your doorstep.

“You might be right about that,” Camilla admits with a crooked smile, “With no witnesses or evidence, they'll be moving blind. Alright then, you've convinced me – let's see what we can find.”

It didn't take much to convince her, you point out as Camilla pulls on a coat.

“What can I say? I'm getting into the right mood,” she offers you a shrug, “And it's more interesting than sitting around here, waiting for trouble to come knocking.”

She's got a pretty polite definition of “trouble”, you mutter, if she thinks it would knock first. In your experience, it tends to just break down the door.

-

Access to the noble district is as easily granted as always, the sleepy guards at the gate waving you through at the sight of your League papers. As you pass, he mumbles something about Wolves. Turning back, you ask him to repeat himself.

“Huh? Oh, I didn't mean nothing by it,” the unshaven guard says slowly, “There's you, and there was the younger guy earlier. Don't know why you're all coming here now, I'VE never seen no beasts around here. You got some business with bored noble ladies or-” He falls silent, glancing across at Camilla and wincing. “Uh, begging your pardon ma'am. Not meaning to cause offence.”

“Don't worry about it,” she waves away his comment, “Was that the only other Hunter you've seen lately?”

“Aye, just him,” the man nods, “Looked a bit young to be a Hunter, if you ask me. I wouldn't trust him with a stray dog, let alone a rabid beast...”

He's new, you reply vaguely as you start to leave, don't hold it against him. He's a quick learner.

“So whoever we have here, they're not a Wolf,” Camilla murmurs, once you're past the checkpoint, “I wonder if this organisation has a set of requirements. Desperate for money, true, but what else?”

Gullible, you suggest, or foolish – but not too foolish. For all his flaws, Stefan was still able to follow your trail without you revealing himself. Even if you were distracted and deep in thought, that's not an insignificant thing to boast about.

“It didn't help him much, did it?” Camilla retorts with a wry smile, before pointing to an old manor up ahead, “There, I think that must be our place. Opposite the Saive manor, just like Stefan said.”

[1/2]

>>746856

>To clarify, Stefan hasn't sent a report. I intended to include that earlier, but it slipped my mind.

>>746906

You're in luck this time – the attic room doesn't offer a view down in your direction, so you can approach the manor without stepping into view. The manor itself looks old and disused, but not in the way that the Saive manor appears. It's not exactly a dead place, but a hibernating one – you could well believe that this place would, one day, thrive with life once more.
Not yet, however. For now, the manor appears deserted. Your brass key opens the front door, which swings silently open beneath your touch. Well-oiled hinges, you note, not something you'd normally find in an abandoned property. Trading an expectant look with Camilla, you step slowly inside and draw your pistol. She does the same, smoothly bringing her weapon down to cover any blind spots you leave.

Unwilling to so much as whisper, you guide each other with gestures as you advance through the lowest level of the manor in search of a staircase. Pausing to listen at the closed doorways, you hear nothing – no signs of life or occupation, no matter what door you linger at.

The stairway you eventually stumble across is surprisingly narrow, as though it was made for ignominious servants rather than the noble owners themselves, but that matters little to you. It's a set of stairs, it'll take you to the attic – what more could you ask of it?

-

When you're almost at the top of the stairs, Camilla holds up a hand to stop you. Very deliberately, she sniffs the air. When you do the same, you catch a faint scent of cigarette smoke. There's someone upstairs, no doubt about it.

Nodding to the woman, you slow your pace further still and finish ascending the staircase. Reaching the attic door, you flatten yourself against the wall and prepare to barge through it. Counting away three seconds on your fingers, you give Camilla a hard nod and grasp the doorknob. Throwing the door open, you're greeted by the sharp sound of a curse, and you bring your pistol around to cover the source of that sound.

Almost in slow motion, you watch as the man – the cigarette tumbling from his slack jaw – starts to reach for a pistol of his own. Then, as the reality of his situation hits home, he stops that motion dead and throws his hands up in the air.

“Shit, don't shoot!” he barks, “I'm unarmed, damn you!”

“Nice and easy,” Camilla mutters, as she keeps her pistol trained on the man, “Just the way I like it.”

“Just my fucking luck...” he growls to himself, as he keeps his hands held high, “Mind if I put out that bloody cigarette, before I burn this place down?”

Without a word, you stalk over and crush the cigarette beneath your boot. Now then, you tell him, it's time for a little talk.

[2/3]

>>746965

There's an admirable lack of bullshit in how the man rattles off his name, address and occupation with only the slightest prompting. His name is Ivar Tallak, he lives in a particularly poor area of the city and his job – you're interested to note – is a guard for one of the noble families. Compared with how quick he revealed his own information, he was incredibly reluctant to state which family he worked for. The Lagunov family, he confesses eventually – a name that means absolutely nothing to you.

“They ain't exactly a huge deal,” Ivar grunts, “But their old man, Hugo, is a bloody tyrant. He'd not be happy to know what I've been getting up to. Why I'm in this bloody mess in the first place...”

Explain, you order, elaborate.

“Look, I don't mind talking, but I got to ask you something. There's some stuff, and I'd rather not have it on the record, if you know what I mean,” he narrows his thuggish eyes, looking between you and Camilla, “Official, like.”

“Oh?” Camilla raises an eyebrow, “Why do you think this is official?”

“You're Ministry, for one thing. I can see the stick up your arse from here,” Ivar barks out a curt laugh, “Don't know about him though. Outside help, I'd guess. I wager he's working off the books as well, so an unofficial conversation won't make much difference, see?”

“You're a real charmer,” Camilla grimaces, stepping away and looking over to you, “I'm going to search this place. I'll leave the questions to “Agent Wolf” here.”

That's the worst fake name you've ever heard. Nodding, you fix Ivar with a long glare. Very well, you say after a while, this conversation won't appear in any official reports. Now then, perhaps he could answer your questions...

>That mess you mentioned. What was it?
>You've been keeping watch here. Seen anything interesting?
>You've had trouble with the Ministry before, haven't you?
>I had a question for you... (Write in)
>Other

>>747027
>>That mess you mentioned. What was it?
>>You've been keeping watch here. Seen anything interesting?
He's cheeky, that comment was great.

>>747027
>That mess you mentioned. What was it?
>You've been keeping watch here. Seen anything interesting?
>You've had trouble with the Ministry before, haven't you?
>I had a question for you... (Write in)
"Tell me about who hired you for this job and what this job is supposed to be."

We already know this bit but it's good to cover all the bases. He might know more than Stefan.

>>747027
>>That mess you mentioned. What was it?
>>You've been keeping watch here. Seen anything interesting?
Following up on possible leads. His troubles with the Ministry might lead to whoever's in the Ministry that's working with Yvette, but that seems more in Camilla's bailiwick.

>>747027
>You've been keeping watch here. Seen anything interesting?
>You've had trouble with the Ministry before, haven't you?
>That mess you mentioned. What was it?

First of all, you have to voice a theory that's been taking shape in your mind. Maybe it won't be perfectly relevant, but you're curious. He's been in trouble with the Ministry before, you ask, hasn't he?

“Aye, quite right,” Ivar nods shamelessly, although without any real pride either, “But you won't find anything serious on my record. A bit of petty theft, a few drunken brawls, but I never killed a man. In all honestly, I'd like to keep it that way. I suppose you could tell.”

He was certainly familiar with the procedures, you say bluntly, and it doesn't seem like this is the first time he's had armed agents bursting in on him either.

“I won't deny it,” Ivar shrugs lightly, his eyes flicking down to the pack of cigarettes on a nearby table. You take the pack and offer it to him, lighting the cigarette he puts between his lips. “The Lagunov family gave me a chance, they didn't care about my record. I guess I threw all that back in their faces...”

That mess he mentioned, you ask, right? What was it all about?

“Ah, well, that. I might have... accidentally...” he takes the cigarette from his lips, coughs, and looks away from you again, “Got Ruby, Hugo Lagunov's daughter, pregnant. By accident.”

Camilla, in the background, coughs loudly – covering up a burst of startled laughter, you suspect. “By accident?” she repeats incredulously, “Didn't anyone ever teach you about-”

Never mind that now, you interrupt, so he got her pregnant. How does that relate to this?

“See, Hugo never found out it was me. Only... someone else did,” Ivar grimaces, “And they threatened to tell the old man. You gotta understand, I'm a bastard from a shit neighbourhood – if Hugo learned it was me what got his girl in trouble, I'd be a dead man. He's got a lot pride in his haughty blood, Hugo, and I've gone and sullied it. Someone learned, and I can't even begin to guess how, that it was me, and now they've got me by the balls.”

He's being blackmailed, you murmur, forced into this job. Watching over a manor, and following anyone they see visiting it – is that correct?

“Aye, I don't have a single bloody clue why I'm up here, but I'm glad that's all they want,” shaking his head, Ivar crushes out his cigarette, “If they wanted money, I'd be dead meat. Barely got two coins to rub together these days. I'd have to steal from the family – uh, stealing something other than Ruby's virtue, like – and that's just another bag of trouble.”

So that's why he doesn't want this made official, you guess.

“Got that right,” he mutters.

[1/2]

>>747131
So we're just gonna let him slide and make sure he doesn't drop our names right? Not much we can do for him so he can sort his own mess out.

>>747147
Pretty much. Just have him stay at his post and report nothing has been happening, keeping his superiors happy. His secret is safe with us if he does that.

>>747131

You're not here to pry into her personal life, you say after a moment, you're more interested in the people blackmailing him. Does he have any idea who might be behind this?

“Some swank bastard, all sharp suits and long words. He had a stick up his arse and all,” Ivar shakes his head, “Not Ministry issue, though – it was a fair bit longer than that. Any longer, and it would have been coming out his mouth. Anyway, he showed up at my home one night. Told me, right there on the doorstep, that he knew about Ruby and me. Not a hint of hesitation or doubt, not a bloody flicker. I just about slammed the door in his face, only I knew how badly that would end for me. I did the only thing I could do – I invited the shit in for fucking tea.”

Damage limitation, you remark, so what happened next?

“He sat down, repeated everything he said earlier, and told me – as if I didn't know – how much trouble I was in. Then, he said we were about to be good friends, so long as I learned how to follow orders,” Ivar scowls darkly, “Gave me the details. I spend my nights here – good thing I work days – and watch the old Saive place. Any time someone comes in, I'm supposed to follow them and then send them a report. Some stupid shit about sending it to myself, like that's smart and logical. Well, might be a stupid job, but I was just glad enough to have an escape route.”

So he's been watching here ever since, you conclude, has he seen anything interesting?

“Aye, one thing – my new friend. He stopped by a few days ago, let himself in like he owned the bloody place,” Ivar pauses, “Uh, he probably does. Anyway, he let himself in and told me... Well, first thing he told me was to stop embarrassing myself and put the gun down. After that, he told me he had business with the Saive place. I wasn't to follow him or nothing, so I could take it easy that night.”

This catches your attention. So he saw Swank – the name comes naturally to your lips – that night?

“Aye, and I know a break-in when I see one. Tell you what, my good buddy knows his way around a lock,” gesturing for another cigarette, Ivar only continues talking after a long drag, “He's got guts, sneaking into the district. They catch you breaking into one of the manors, some of the guards round here would beat you half to death – then they'd finish the job, most likely. They'd get away with it and all. Well, anyway, he wasn't in there long, and it's not like he walked out with a sack of loot either. Might be, he was looking for something special. Must have been small too – small enough to fit in his pockets.”

Documents, you suggest, papers.

“Or fat wads of cash,” Ivar suggests, with a faint flash of avarice.

[2/3]

>>747205

Well then, you tell him, you just need to have a word with your associate and then you'll be finished here. A few more moments, and then you'll be out of his hair.

“Take your time,” Ivar tells you with a bland smile, “There's only one door. I'm not going anywhere.”

That's true, you agree pleasantly, but you thought it might be rude to say.

-

“What do I think?” Camilla repeats your question quietly, “I think he's a common criminal with an uncommon obsession with... with sticks and arses. Other than that, though, he was telling the truth about everything. I feel sorry for him, in a way. Not VERY sorry for him, but still. I think we can trust him, and we've got leverage. Using the same tactics as our enemies doesn't really sit well with me, but needs must.”

What about her search, you ask, did she find anything useful?

“Just a notebook, with a few details of his surveillance. Let me read you this...” she smirks and begins to quote from memory, “Saw that swank bastard doing his thing tonight. Wish I could smash his smug face in with a brick.” Clearing her throat, Camilla smiles again. “End quote. Like I said, he's a real charmer.”

Really, you point out, you'd feel the same way if you were in his position. That said, he must have a desperate lack of common sense – it takes a real fool to get involved with noble girls.

“His lack of common sense isn't my problem,” Camilla says with a shrug, “So long as he hasn't broken any laws. In either case, I'd have to agree with you – we're finished here. I'll let you deal with Ivar, since you two were getting along so well.”

-

“So,” Ivar asks as you return to him, “We're good, right? Off the books, this conversation never happened, all that stuff... right? I won't say a damn thing to Swank – good name, by the way – if you don't shop me to the Lagunov family. Deal?”

>Right. Just try to keep your nose clean from now on
>Sorry Ivar. I can't risk leaving a witness
>I had a question to ask you before we go... (Write in)
>Other

>>747270
>it takes a real fool to get involved with noble girls.
That right Henryk? Feeling kind of foolish all the sudden.

>>747270
>>Right. Just try to keep your nose clean from now on

>>747270
>>Right. Just try to keep your nose clean from now on
"Our silence for your silence. Simple enough. Congratulations on being a father Ivan~"

>>747270
>Right. Just try to keep your nose clean from now on

>>747270
>Right. Just try to keep your nose clean from now on

Try and get him to describe swank to us.

>>747270
>>Right. Just try to keep your nose clean from now on
Wanna bet he'll fall into bed with a noble girl again? Actually, I kinda wonder what happened with that child of his. Did she get an abortion, or something? (If she kept it, I imagine the next generation or so of Lagunovs would be a sight saner than the last few...)

>>747270
what can you tell me about this Swank guy, what does he look like? do he move in a particular way? Anything striking about him?

One last question, you ask him, before you leave. Could he describe Swank at all, you ask, did any of his features leave an impression?

“He's right pretty, if you're into that kind of thing. Like he'd never been in a fight in his life,” Ivar frowns, “Pointy features, kind delicate. Not tall or broad, but he seems like he should be. He's got that... air about him that powerful folks tend to have. Probably why I took him so seriously when I first saw him. Pale, with dark hair. Mind you, that about describes every second man in the Free States.”

His motions, you press, his gestures?

“Like silk,” this time, Ivar actually shudders, “I saw a man slit a cow's throat like that once, like it was nothing. Swank was like that. A thing like that, it sticks with you. That's about all I can say, friend, so how about we leave it at that?”

It's a deal, you agree, his silence for yours. Just one little bit of advice before you leave him to it. He should probably try to keep his nose clean from now on, you suggest, and no more illicit liaisons.

“Don't rightly think I can promise either of those,” Ivar replies ruefully, just about keeping a straight face as he does so, “But I'll do my best. I'll have to thank you, both of you – best arrest I've ever had. Downright decent in fact!”

“We've been trying to improve lately,” Camilla spits, “Trying to do something about that... that little stick problem.”

“Aye,” Ivar nods, “But there's still room for improvement, I'd wager.”

Before Camilla can shoot the man, you clear your throat loudly. Ivar, you announce, congratulations on becoming a father. It's all downhill from here.

-

“I wish everyone the Ministry dealt with was as helpful as him,” Camilla sighs as you're leaving the noble district once more, “It wouldn't be particularly interesting, true, but we'd get a lot more work done.”

Murmuring vague acknowledgement, you let your eyes play around the city streets – every movement and motion causing you to snap back to attention. The fact that you've not seen any hint of a trail only manages to make you more paranoid. If this is what you're seeing, you can't help but wonder, what could you be missing?

“It bothers me, though. This Swank character,” Camilla says suddenly, “Stefan said that he was desperate for work, yes? He would have been looking, then, and mentioning that he was looking. Easy enough to track him down, in other words. Ivar, on the other hand...”

The only people who knew his dirty little secret, you guess, were Ivar himself and Ruby. So how did Swank find out?

“It bothers me,” Camilla repeats quietly, speaking more to herself than to anyone else.

[1/2]

>>747357

I just realized we could have used Wolf's Blood to find any out of place scents in the Saive Study.

Provided Swank actually has a scent. I'm willing to bet he doesn't.

>>747357

First light isn't that far away when you return to your tenement block, and the fatigue is starting to catch up with you. Every step seems to require greater and greater reserves of strength, drawn from deeper within you each time. Still, you manage to drag yourself up the many, many flights of stairs to reach your apartment. Whenever you slow, Camilla is there to nudge you back into motion. She looks perfectly awake, eager and active from just a few hours spent dozing on a couch.

Maybe it's the stick up her arse keeping her upright, you think to yourself as you climb another flight of stairs.

“Henryk?” Camilla asks, turning to give you a quizzical look, “What are you laughing about?”

You didn't even realise you WERE laughing.

-

When you finally reach your apartment, you waste no time at all in collapsing down on the couch. Gesturing vaguely for Camilla to make herself at home, you close your eyes and allow yourself to slip into a deep sleep... for what seems like a few seconds at most. Opening your eyes to the sound of voices, you smell the unmistakable odour of slightly burnt food. Breakfast, Lize style.

Lurching upright, you glance at the clock and realise that you got an entire hour or sleep – a real luxury. The soft groan that escapes you causes Lize to turn around in her seat.

“Oh hey, you're awake,” she tilts her head to the side, “Did you get a good night's sleep?”

You groan again, longer and louder this time.

>I think I'll pause things here today. I'll finish this thread off tomorrow, and I'll linger a while in case anyone has any questions or comments.
>Thanks to everyone who contributed today!

>>747404
Thanks for running Moloch

>>747404
Thanks for running!

>>747404
Thanks for running!

>>747404
Thanks for running 'loch!

Could we have used Wolf Blood to find the intruder?

>>747404
Thanks for running, Moloch!

>>747429

In all honestly, the idea hadn't occurred to me at the time. Thinking it over now, though, I'd say it would have given us a valid trail to follow, but I can't really say what the results would have been. It would have involved a bit of quick improvisation, that's all I can say for sure!

“I know just what you need,” Alyssia Hemwick says as she studies your weary features, “A good cup of tea.”

You could get that back at yours, you insist, Eliza made breakfast.

“With all due respect, Henryk, I said a good cup of tea. I don't quite know how she manages it, but I swear that girl can burn a pot of tea if she isn't paying attention... and that's a little too often for my liking,” Alyssia sighs, “It's good to see you back, safe and sound, at least. Was it bad, in the north?”

It was worse for the others, you tell her, Hyde was there fighting with you. He was a damn hero, but he paid for it. Injured, you hasten to add when you see the black look spreading across Alyssia's face, just injured. He's still alive, and he'll likely be returning to the Free States soon. It would be nice for him, you suggest casually, if there was someone waiting to welcome him back.

“Oh, well, yes...” porcelain rattles as Alyssia sets her teacup down a little too quickly, “You may be, ah, right. It's just... I'm not really sure what I should, well, what I should do.”

He could probably do with a good cup of tea, you prompt, maybe even some cake.

“Ah!” as the conversation swings around to familiar territory, Alyssia's eyes light up, “I think I can manage that!”

The sight of her cheerful face, you think to yourself, will be more of a treat than any tea or cake could ever be.

-

When the tea has been finished, and you feel a little more awake, you look Alyssia in the eye. There was something else you wanted to talk to her about, you begin, something a little more serious. The White Tyrant is dead, and so is his witch Hebona.

“I see,” Alyssia's voice tightens a little, uncertainty binding her tongue, “That's... good news, isn't it?”

That's what you were wondering, you reply with a faintly grim smile, or rather... you were wondering how she might feel about it.

“The north will be a better place without the White Tyrant ruling through strength, and Hebona spreading her beliefs. I can't deny that, not even a little. Port Steyr will be safer, and so will the ships in the region. There will be other leaders, other warlords, but I can't imagine any of them reaching the same kind of power that the White Tyrant held. The northern people will never have another tyrant,” Alyssia says this in a slow, measured tone – the tone of someone holding something back. When you gesture for her to continue, she sighs.

“Henryk, can you honestly say that the League will be a kind master to my homeland?” the young woman asks quietly, “To the northern people, to our ways and our gods?”

You can't answer that, you reply softly, you might never be able to answer that.

[1/3]

File: Hemwick.jpg (160 KB, 900x1434)

160 KB JPG

>>749747

A grim silence descends over the cramped, cluttered room for a moment before Alyssia shakes her head. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't ask you something like that. You've made a difference – a real difference – and here I am accusing you of... of...” she pauses, “Oh, I don't know. Something terrible, anyway. Whatever happens, wherever the northern lands go from here, it's better than where they were headed. The White Tyrant won't drag us all down into a suicidal war. That... that's enough for me. If things don't work out badly, you're not the one who should shoulder all the blame.”

As the silence returns, you consider her words. One man can kill a king – a tyrant – but that doesn't mean he can steer the course of a nation. Some tasks are too great for any one man, and the attempt could only end in failure. Without thinking, you repeat that aloud, letting your words fall into the empty air.

“Maybe so,” Alyssia offers you a slight smile, “But that's no reason not to try, if that's what you think is right.”

The right thing, you point out, isn't always obvious or apparent.

“Well, I can't really help with that,” forcing a small laugh, Alyssia turns away, “More tea?”

-

“The southern colonies,” she muses, after you've explained your next mission, “I'm afraid I don't know much about them. Anything at all, really – there are a lot of nasty rumours and stories about the colonies, but that's no different from the northern lands. How true they all are, I couldn't really say.”

You're not really sure what to expect either, you admit, this is going pretty far outside your area of expertise.

“Well...” Alyssia smiles brightly, “Then it'll be an adventure!”

Sometimes, you wish you had half of her optimism.

-

The breakfast dishes have been cleared away when you return to the apartment, the smell of burnt food replaced by that of oil and metal. Lize and Camilla sit opposite one another, their respective handguns lying disassembled before them. It's a strange kind of bonding, you think, pretty far from anything that might normally be considered “feminine”.

Then again, the circle you've drawn around your life is pretty far from anything normal, so perhaps this is to be expected.

Everything has been arranged, you tell Lize, you've spoken to Alyssia. She knows that you'll be away, so she'll check in every now and then.

“That's cool,” Lize nods, “It'll make a nice to have some decent food now and then, yeah? Last time she was over, she mentioned trying to teach me a new recipe. I bet I'll be able to cook it when you get back. Uh... more or less. It'll be great!”

Glancing your way, Camilla shoots you a brief look – a look that says “good luck”.

[2/3]

>>749750

Most of the train journey to Odyss is lost in a haze of much-needed sleep, but you spend your rare few waking moments in careful consideration. It feels like you've learned a lot in the past few days, and the picture unfolding before you in a bleak one. All evidence points to a larger conspiracy, an organisation that deals in secrets and blackmail for some yet unknown purpose. Yvette Saive fits into this somehow, but her role in this larger game remains unclear. You'll get the answers you seek when you track her down – even if it means questioning her in Nihilo.

As the train rattles south, Camilla flips through a notebook, making careful annotations every so often. Keeping a record of what you've learned so far, you presume, perhaps to help with a future investigation of her own. When she notices that you're awake, she closes the book and leans slightly forwards.

“We should start at the port authorities,” she begins, “To confirm the details on our ship south, for one thing, but it might be worth asking about the Majestic. Someone might have seen something.”

So, you ask, what else does she have on her list? You don't even need to ask if she has a list – of course she does.

“Shopping for some supplies, I suppose. I'd like to check in with a doctor as well, and see if there's anything we should be aware of,” Camilla grimaces, “Any recent outbreaks or local diseases. The south is a filthy place, if you believe the stories, without any real quarantine procedures. Contamination can spread like wildfire, down in the colonies.” Her voice grows hushed as she says this, as if the mere idea is a fearful one.

You can't blame her. You've seen how quickly disease can spread, and the damage it leaves behind.

-

In a sterile office at the Odyss docks, you find the man you're looking for. A portly man with the reddened eyes of a chronic insomniac, he nevertheless knows his business well. Without even checking the thick record book on his desk, he gives you the answers you're looking for.

“Next ship south? You'll be looking for the Hyades, and Captain Harper. He's a good man, Harper. Keeps his crew well-behaved,” he sniffs with disdain, “More than I can say for a lot of the men around here, that's for sure. If you're looking for Harper, I think he's staying in a hotel here. The Grand, that's his usual haunt – the bar there, if you want to be specific. If you're looking to secure transport down south, Harper usually keeps a few cabins spare for guests.”

Well, you say as you give Camilla a slight nod, that's very helpful.

“Aye,” the man nods, “Anything else you were wanting?”

>That's everything I needed
>I'm looking for a ship. The Majestic
>Sounds like you know Harper well. Can you tell me about him?
>I had a question... (Write in)
>Other

>>749751
>Sounds like you know Harper well. Can you tell me about him?

Maybe we shouldn't be directly asking about the Majestic, at least not until we are down south. This conspiracy has me worried."

>>749751
>Sounds like you know Harper well. Can you tell me about him?

Perhaps we could just ask about any strange ships that have went by or just ask about all the ships in the last few days rather than asking directly about the Majestic

>>749751
>>I'm looking for a ship. The Majestic
Except, perhaps, ask after a ship that didn't stop?

>>749756
Wouldn't it be more probable that asking after the Majestic in the south would be the worse idea? It seems that the south is this conspiracy's stronghold, not the north.

>>749751
>>Sounds like you know Harper well. Can you tell me about him?

>>749751
>>Sounds like you know Harper well. Can you tell me about him?
I like that idea of asking about a ship while hinting vaguely at it without name dropping it but I think that might bring even more attention than just name dropping it.

It sounds like he knows this Captain Harper pretty well, you point out, can he tell you anything about the man?

“He's an old hand, been working the southern trade routes for years. Knows his stuff, Harper,” the broad man nods a few times to himself, “I get to know most of the folks who stick around here for more than a few years. Some folks, they try and get into this business for a quick bit of coin, only to find it harder than they thought. They tend to drop out pretty sharpish. Harper, though, he's not shy of a little hard graft. I can respect that – he cuts an honest deal, and never tries to worm out of his fees. He's a good pick, if you were looking for someone to take you down south. Won't slit your throat and throw you overboard, I guarantee it.”

Does that happen often, you ask after a pause, travellers getting killed like that?

“Couldn't say for sure. Sometimes, folks won't come back from their travels – could be any number of reasons for that, but you hear stories. Never anything I've heard confirmed though, and you know how sailors like to talk,” he offers you a bland shrug, “Aye, well, I'm not trying to put you off. Might be, I've spent a little too much time around sailors. I'm starting to talk like they do. You'll be safe with old Harper, is what I'm meaning to say.”

All very reassuring, you reply, you're feeling perfectly safe already. Clearing your throat, you ask if the official has seen any unusual ships lately – likely ones that didn't stop at port. In the interests of discretion, you don't name any names. If the Majestic was spotted here, the man would recognise it. If not, the name wouldn't mean anything to him.

“Strange ships, you say?” he rubs his red, aching eyes for a moment, “Aye, there was one thing I thought was odd. Not the ship itself, although it was a big bloody thing, but something it did. Never stopped here, just sailed on past, but it DID stop a ways out. Not long, maybe an hour, but it met up with another ship. Don't quite know any more than that, but things have been fair unsettled ever since.”

Unsettled how, exactly?

“Hard to say. Not riots or fighting, nothing like that, but there's a strange mood in the air,” clearing his throat, the official opens the record book and flips back a few pages, “The Capricorn, that was the ship what went out to meet it. Another regular around here, nothing strange about it. Mostly carries food about, preserved meats and the like. Fair few troublemakers in the crew, but that's about what you'd expect. Far as I know, the Capricorn is still docked, and the crew are busy drinking themselves stupid.”

“Where can we find them?” Camilla asks quietly, “These crewmen?”

“Just about any bar in the city, I wager,” the man says with a shrug.

[1/2]

>>749822

Excusing yourself for a moment, you step outside and glance about the streets. Nothing to indicate that you were watched coming into the port office, but the thought offers little comfort.

“So the Majestic stops out in the open waters, meets up with another ship, and then they go their separate ways,” Camilla muses, pitching her voice low, “The question, then – what kind of meeting was it? Passing information along to their allies, or receiving aid of some kind?”

Maybe both, you suggest, and the port official mentioned a strange mood. You've not felt anything like that, but you're not a local here – you wouldn't be the one to notice a disturbance like that. The best way to go about learning more about this...

“Would be to find some of these crewmen and get the information from them,” Camilla agrees with a nod, “But asking a lot of questions might be a good way of drawing down some unwelcome attention. We know the Majestic was here – that already tells us that we're on the right track. Anything more than that, that's a bonus. So what do you say, what's our next move?”

>Let's head to the Grand and find Captain Harper
>Time to hit the bars, see if we can find some talkative crewmen
>I wanted to ask the port official a few questions before we leave... (Write in)
>Other

>>749840
>>Time to hit the bars, see if we can find some talkative crewmen

>>749840
>>Time to hit the bars, see if we can find some talkative crewmen

>>749840
>Let's head to the Grand and find Captain Harper
See what he has to say about the Capricorn.

>>749840
>>Time to hit the bars, see if we can find some talkative crewmen
Maybe just listen in for a bit without asking questions to see if anything comes up.

>>749840
>>Time to hit the bars, see if we can find some talkative crewmen
They should know what's going on with this 'strange mood' here, and we might be able to disperse suspicion by asking only a little to lots of people.

>>749858
We can probably just find a depressed crewman and ask him what's got him so down to which he'll hopefully explain what the hell happened on the Majestic. To the outside world we'd just be gossiping/shooting the shit.

It's time to hit the local bars, you tell Camilla, see what you can pick up. With luck, you can find a few talkative crewmen – and with a little more luck, they'll be drunk enough to spill their secrets to the first person who buys them a drink. Without any particular idea of where to start looking, you'll just head towards the Grand and see what you can find along the way. If nothing else, Captain Harper might know something about all this.

“Right,” Camilla nods, “Any excuse to go to the bar, huh?”

The thought, you assure her, never even crossed your mind.

-

There's no challenge in finding a bar in Odyss – if anything, the real challenge is choosing where to start. Just like Port Steyr, it seems like every street corner has a bar, a tavern or some other drinking hole. You end up picking your first target just because you like the sign hanging above the door – a particularly furious looking beast, plucked from the depths of a nightmare. The bar is called The Manticore, and business is booming.

Elbowing your way through the crowd, you squeeze into the bar and order two beers. You have to raise your voice to shout over the background noise of the crowd. It's a good place to start, you've got to admit – just by listening in to the flowing conversations that surround you, you could learn a lot. Not only that, but it's busy enough for two new faces to blend in and become perfectly anonymous. Even the barman is too busy to look at you for more than a second, his attention divided between a dozen other things.

The beer is terrible, tasting faintly of goat, but you can't have everything. Sometimes, sacrifices have to be made.

-

“Bloody hell,” the burly man sitting two seats away bellows, “Never seen a less friendly bunch of cunts in my entire life!”

“Foster, you bastard, that's because you kept butting in on them,” his companion replies, “Men gotta have a quiet drink sometimes, see? That means not having loudmouth pricks like you making yourself a place at their table.”

“They was ruining the mood, is all,” the first man – Foster, you presume – sniffs angrily, “Can't have a good bar with a mood like that, all doom and gloom. If that place goes under, I ain't gonna shed a bloody tear for it.”

“Idiot. The Maid is one of the oldest bloody bar in Odyss. If the old crook running the place wants to let gloomy bastards cry into their beer, it's his business,” the second sailor slams his fist down on the bar, “Enough chat, I'm thirsty!”

Draining your glass, you set it down on the table and touch Camilla's arm. You've got what you needed here – time to move on.

[1/2]

>>749899

From The Manticore, it's a short walk to your destination – a rather more upmarket bar called The Mermaid. It's rather less active than the other drinking holes you've seen, both in numbers of patrons and how enthusiastic they are. There are conversations flowing freely, but the overall mood is subdued – definitely a contrast with the other bars you've seen. As with The Manticore, you head straight to the bar and sit down with a drink, slowly letting your eyes wander around the place as you do so.

Of all the tables, of all the huddles knots of crewmen, one stands out as particularly grim. The men there look half-dead, like they've been drinking for a few days straight, and there isn't a single shred of joy to be found in their faces. With clumsy, mechanical motions, they lift tankards of ale to their lips and drink deeply. Drinking to forget, if you had to guess, or just drinking so they don't have to think about anything at all. A few have already passed out, but the remaining dozen are still going strong.

“Never seen anything like it,” Camilla mutters to you, “That's not normal.”

You find yourself nodding. If those are the crew of the Capricorn, whatever happened to them on the Majestic has left them with deep scars. Deep scars... but deeper pockets if they've been drinking like this for several days.

Taking a slow, thoughtful sip of your beer, you consider your next move.

>Approach the group directly
>Linger for a while and watch them
>Ask the barman about the group
>Other

>>749917
>Ask the barman about the group
>Linger for a while and watch them

If we aren't getting much out of that then
>Approach the group directly
And ask what has got them so down. Maybe wait until the tankards are getting close to empty and then buy them a round.

>>749917
>>Linger for a while and watch them

>>749917
>Linger for a while and watch them

>>749917
>>Linger for a while and watch them
>>Ask the barman about the group
Watch for a bit and then offer to buy them a drink.

>>749917
>Linger for a while and watch them

When the barman ambles a little further away from the group, you rise from your stool and wander across the room to sit closer to him. With the unspoken elegance of a practised servant, he turns to take your next order. As he pours two fresh glasses of beer, you ask him – in a casual tone – about business. How has it been lately?

“Good,” he tells you, his voice deep and low, “Better than normal, in fact, owing to a number of, ah, generous patrons. There must have been a particularly good set of deals done, if they can afford this kind of drinking.”

That group over there, you ask as you nod to the sullen gathering, is that them?

“Yes indeed,” the barman nods, “Some of them are regulars here, but they've never indulged quite so heavily. That bald man over there, you see? That's Vanning, an officer on the Capricorn. The rest of them, I wager, are his subordinates.”

And he doesn't think it's strange, you press, the mood their in?

“Of course it's strange,” he nods again, “But you see strange things, working in a place like this. Men coming in and spending their money like they wanted rid of it? I'm not about to complain about that kind of peculiarity. Would you, if the coin was flowing from their pockets and into yours?”

“I'd wonder where they got the coin,” Camilla points out, “And why they were trying to get rid of it so quickly.”

“Then you would be a better person than I,” bowing his head slightly, the barman moves away to attend to another group of customers. Taking your beer, you return to your original place at the bar – a good place to overhear anything the sullen group has to say. Taking tiny sips of beer, just to pass the time, you wait and watch them from the corner of your eye.

-

Halfway through your drink, you finally get something out of the crewmen. One of them – the youngest looking man – shudders suddenly, looking as though he's about to throw up. Instead of vomit, however, a question spills from his tongue. “Hey,” he asks the bald officer, a kind of quiet desperation in his voice, “You reckon they're going to be okay?”

“Shut your mouth,” Vanning grunts in response, barely opening his sleepy eyes.

“But we left them there!” the young man whines, “We left them there to-”

He says nothing more than that. He doesn't get the chance to say anything more than that.

[1/2]

>>750001
Man Majestic's crew must be fucked up. I wonder what Yvette did to them.

>>750001
Oh my. Who did they leave behind? The crew of the Majestic? Some people from the Capricorn? Others? The most likely is the Majestic's crew, but if it was not... That would put a wrinkle to this conspiracy.

>>750001

A sudden violence swells in the air, and a dire image flashes into your mind – Vanning pulling out a pistol to shoot the young man dead. The premonition is proven false, though, when the bald officer simply stabs a finger down against the table. Somehow, that act has all the violence of a murder, and a little more besides. It certainly shuts the young man up, causing what little colour he had to fade from his cheeks

“Shut your mouth,” Vanning repeats, his face twisted into something dark and terrible, “I don't want to hear another word out of you, is that understood?” When the young man nods fearfully, you see Vanning's face soften and return to something approaching humanity. When he next speaks, his voice is softer – like silk covering the blade of a knife. “Look son, you're new to this. Still soft. Was it your first time?”

The young man – the boy, really – nods again. His lips move, but you can't hear anything or read a word on them.

“There you go,” Vanning actually smiles, and his smile is about as terrible as his scowl had been, “I know just what you need...” He stands, pushing his chair away from the rest of the group, and stomps across to the bar. You freeze, forcing your gaze down into the glass of beer and looking like you were lost in your own thoughts.

If Vanning noticed you watching him, he doesn't show any sign of it. He doesn't even glance across at you, instead calling out to the barman. “You got a room?” he asks bluntly, “And a girl?”

“Both, yes,” the barman nods, “Are you looking for anything, ah... specific?”

“A warm hole, what do you fucking think?” Vanning snaps, “I'll pay. You know I'm good for it.”

The barman offers a bland smile, as if the bluster and anger is nothing more than a familiar game, and then takes a key from behind the bar. “Lucille,” he says quietly, “In room four. One hour.”

So, you realise as Vanning stalks back to his table, The Mermaid is THAT kind of bar. Vanning slams the key down in front of the young man and hisses something angrily in his ear. Nodding timidly, the young man takes the key and rises up, taking shaky steps towards the stairs.

He'll be alone up there, isolated from the rest of his group – an easy target, in other words. That said, following him up there might look suspicious, attracting the attention of the rest of his group. A few of them, Vanning in particular, are still watching the stairs. Waiting, perhaps, to see if the boy is going to lose his nerve.

>Follow him upstairs
>Try to speak with Vanning
>Leave the bar, you've lingered here long enough
>Other

>>750042
>Catch him on the way back. No way they will watch the stairs for the whole hour.

>>750052
>>750042
+1

>>750042
Possibly one person distracts the group and the other follows the guy?

>>750095
That could work too. We can buy them all a round and Camilla can talk to the kid or vice versa.

Also whoever talks to the kid should probably appeal to his morals. He seemed like he didn't like leaving the Majestic crew to whatever fate they had in store. Maybe Camilla with her being a Ministry agent can low key suggest that she is trying to find and help the crew when talking to the kid. Which is the truth in a sense.

Taking your glass, you leave the bar and slink over towards the stairs, sitting down at the table closest to it. With a little luck, you can catch the boy as he comes back down, and it'll be less suspicious than marching right up after him. So long as he doesn't come running down after two minutes, his “friends” - using that term in the loosest possible sense – should lose interest. Are they really going to watch a staircase for a whole hour? Doubtful.

“Now I really want to know what happened,” Camilla murmurs as you get settled in to wait, “If it was some kind of dirty deal, I could understand a boy like him being rattled, but look at the others – they're all scared. Hell, even their boss is frightened of something.”

He doesn't look frightened, you retort, he looks furious.

“It's bluster. An act,” shaking her head, Camilla risks a glance up at the staircase, “I've seen his sort. He's out of his depth, and he knows it, but he'd rather die than admit that. So, he gets angry, quick to lash out at anything he takes as a challenge. Standard thug behaviour, the sort of crap I have to deal with every day up in Port Steyr.”

So how would she deal with him, you ask, if this was Ministry business?

“I'd throw him in a jail cell and let him rot,” she mutters, “And if that wasn't an option? I'd stay out of his damn way.”

-

“How long has he been up there?” Camilla asks, toying with her empty glass, “What, half an hour?”

About that, you agree. Glancing across at the Capricon's crew, you see that most of them have returned to their brooding, their young colleague forgotten. Vinning is the only one who still looks restless, but his attention is mostly focussed on his group. A deck of cards has been produced, one of the crewmen listlessly shuffling the faded papers.

“I'm going to distract them, keep their eyes away from the stairs,” Camilla whispers suddenly, “You head up and see if you can find the boy. See what he knows. If anything goes wrong, we split up and regroup at The Manticore. Sounds good to you?”

Sounds good, you agree, you just hope you're not interrupting anything intimate.

Snorting out a muffled laugh, Camilla rises up and strolls across to the Capricorn's crew. As you overhear her loudly asking about their card game, trying to cajole them into letting her play, you rise and slip up the stairs. Not a single head turns to follow your exit.

[1/2]

>>750143
>So how would she deal with him, you ask, if this was Ministry business?
And, I suppose, if it wasn't Ministry business, she'll engage to ensure it stays that way?

>>750143

Compared with the relatively austere decorations below, the upper level is plush, dripping with velvet tapestries and luxurious cushions. At least, that's the impression is tries to get across – in truth, the end result is somewhat faded and sad, feigning warmth and glory. Pitiful, in a way, and the nervous young man pacing back and forth only adds to the bleak atmosphere. He looks like he's about to burst into tears.

Well, the first time is never easy.

Turning and pacing back towards you, the young man finally looks up and sees you – actually noticing you at long last. His eyes grow wide, and he almost lets out a little scream, but then his shoulders just slump.

“I'm not... doing anything wrong!” he pleads, “I got a key, I'm allowed to be up here!”

If he's got a key, you ask, why is pacing out here?

“I'm just, uh... just getting myself psyched up. That's all,” trying to force a grin, the young man soon gives up the futile effort, “Oh, who am I kidding? I'm not in the mood for this kind of thing. How could I be?”

Ale has loosened his tongue, it seems. Offering him a gentle smile – the closest approximation of one you can manage – you nod towards a pair of gilded seats. He gratefully sinks down into one, letting out a shuddering sigh. Sitting next to him, you wait for him to speak. You don't have to wait long.

“I'm in trouble,” he blurts out, “I can't even talk about it, not like this. Not... this kind of trouble. I'm sorry, I-” he freezes for a moment, shuddering softly to himself before finding his voice once more, “I shouldn't have said anything. I'm sorry.”

If he needs to get something off his chest, you offer, you're a good listener. He seems like a good kid, but there's obviously something bothering him. If his conscience is bothering him, talking about it should help. Depending on what his problems are, you might even be able to help him with them. At the very least, you can offer him some advice.

“Yeah, maybe... yeah,” the young man swallows heavily, rubbing his eyes and forcing himself to meet your gaze, “Man, I don't even know where to start.”

Start at the beginning, you suggest, and take it from there.

-

“Okay, the start. Capricorn. I work on the Capricorn. Just running messages, lifting and carrying, that kind of thing,” the boy – he shows no sign of giving you a name – begins, “Hard work, but I can handle it. A few days ago... and man, I can't even think how many, it's all a blur now. A few days ago, we got a new job. Just delivering a bunch of supplies to a ship. Easy money, right?”

But it wasn't that easy, you guess, was it?

Shuddering again, the boy gives you a jerky nod.

[2/3]

>>750205

“I knew something was wrong when I saw the crew. This ship, the Majestic, should have had more men. I mean, it was a huge ship, but it was just barely a skeleton crew. All of them, every man I saw, looked scared. Like there was a disease on board, and they might be the next one to die. You ever seen men living like that, knowing they could die at any minute?” the boys pauses, “They were armed, and they weren't messing about with us. No chatter, no gossip. Just orders, telling us where to bring the supplies. They were running short on food, I guess, and they needed to stock up for the trip.”

Did they say they were going somewhere, you ask, did they say where?

“They didn't say anything like that, but I can guess. From here, it's just south to the colonies,” the story pauses here as the boy rubs a hand across his face, “Look, if that had been all, it would have been weird, but I could deal with it. But that wasn't all! They... they never told us we'd be dealing with dead bodies!”

The blood turns to ice in your veins, but you gesture for him to continue. You need to hear everything.

“I don't know how many there were. Like, I lost count. All the ones I saw had been shot, and they were old. The smell...” the boy retches, “I don't know why they didn't burn them. Maybe they didn't want to do that to their own. I don't know. They just ordered us to take the bodies and get rid of them, no questions asked. We weren't happy about it, but... we did it anyway. When we got back to port, the captain gave us all more money than we've ever been paid and told us to keep our mouths shut. Only, I can't stop thinking about it. All those dead bodies...”

He falls silent at that, save for the low groan that escapes him. His eyes drift shut, and he seems to turn inwards. You could walk away, you realise, and he might never even notice.

>Leave quietly
>Did you see a woman on board? A noble?
>What did you do with the bodies?
>Did you ever find out what happened to the dead crewmen?
>I had a question for you... (Write in)
>Other

>>750256
>>What did you do with the bodies?

>>750256
>>Did you see a woman on board? A noble?
>>What did you do with the bodies?

I guess Yvette has just been executing anyone that speaks out against her.

>>750256
>What did you do with the bodies?
>Did you ever find out what happened to the dead crewmen?

>>750256
>>Did you ever find out what happened to the dead crewmen?
I think discerning the nature of Yvette's madness, for lack of a better word, is the best idea. As a great beast, she retreats, but that momentous destiny has been fulfilled with her retreat from Port Tyrant, I think. Or, I guess, are those crewmen the remnants of the Ministry agents that were supposed to cleave to the Ministry-backed coup of the ship, is Yvette killing 'slaves' as a delusion of something akin to Lize's hallucinations, or is this a simple purge to motivate the rest?