Adventure Log VIII.I

DESPERATE TIMES

The morning light filtered gently through the curtains of the inn, waking the party with its soft, warm glow. The usual cacophony of city life was absent—no clamour of vendors, no distant cries of the desperate. Instead, the serene sounds of the countryside greeted them: the rustling of leaves in the breeze, the chirping of birds, and the occasional lowing of cattle.

Byron stretched, feeling the unusual quiet seep into his bones. He glanced around, noting the tranquility. It was a stark contrast to the chaos and danger they had become accustomed to. As they prepared to leave the inn, Byron found himself experiencing something he rarely did—anonymity. In Korvosa, he was the infamous 'Korvosan Bear,' recognized and often revered or feared. Here in the countryside, he was just another traveler.

"Feels strange, doesn’t it?" Trevor remarked, noticing Byron's contemplative expression.

Byron nodded. "Yeah, no one’s staring. No whispers or pointing. It’s... peaceful."

Nightingale, always ready to move, stepped outside and summoned their horses with his magic. Rapier in hand, he seemingly sliced their shapes into reality with a series of practiced cuts that trailed an arcane glow as they moved, revealing the same horses they had ridden the night before. Byron’s face lit up with childlike glee as he recognized his steed.

"Gypsy! You're back!" Byron exclaimed, running his hand along the horse's mane. The bond between them was evident, a rare moment of tenderness for the gruff warrior.

With their horses ready, the party said their goodbyes to Trinia and mounted up to begin their journey back to Korvosa. The ride was uneventful, the countryside passing by in a blur of green fields and distant forests. The tension from the previous night's battle had eased, replaced by a sense of accomplishment and calm.

As they approached the area where they had fought the goblins, the scene had transformed. The bodies of the goblins and their dragonwolf had been scavenged by animals, nature reclaiming what it needed. Bones and tattered remnants of clothing lay scattered, a stark reminder of the cycle of life and death. They paused briefly, reflecting on the battle and the ferocity of the goblins' attack. The memory of the green dragon's ominous presence still lingered in their minds, but the immediate danger had passed.

Continuing their journey, they reached the outskirts of Korvosa by late afternoon. The city's familiar skyline loomed ahead, a blend of imposing towers and sprawling districts. The contrast between the serene countryside and the bustling city was striking.

Before they entered the city, Calli knew they needed to take extra precautions to avoid suspicion. She stopped the group just outside the city gates, and sang a stanza about a poor boy to accompany delicate gestures. With a flourish of her hands, she conjured a silent image of Taylan, lying asleep in the cart. The illusion was perfect, capturing every detail of his appearance. To anyone who glanced into the cart, it would appear as though Taylan was simply resting.

“Impressive,” Trevor said, admiration in his voice.

Byron grinned. “Nice work, Calli. Let’s get moving.”

With their preparations complete, they approached North Bridge. The bridge was heavily guarded, as expected. Two imposing figures stood at the entrance—Queensguards known as the Grey Maidens. Their faceless, sculpted plate armour gleamed in the sunlight, and their red plumes and cloaks swirled ominously in the breeze. The sight of them sent a shiver down the spines of the party members. As they drew closer, the Grey Maidens’ faceless helmets turned towards them. The blank, reflective visors seemed to peer into their very souls, evaluating and judging.

Relief washed over the group as they passed through the checkpoint. The Grey Maidens continued to watch them, their faceless armour adding to the unease that lingered in the air. But they did not stop them. Once they were clear of the guards, the whole party exhaled deeply

They continued their journey, the familiar sights and sounds of Korvosa growing louder as they approached. The city, with all its challenges and mysteries, awaited them. But for now, they had successfully evaded suspicion and ensured Trinia’s safety.

The party made their way towards Orisini's academy where they had left Taylan. The streets of Korvosa bustled with activity, but a peculiar phrase seemed to be on everyone’s lips: "yellow lights." It echoed around them, whispered in conversations and shouted by street vendors. Nightingale, ever the curious one, furrowed his brow and decided to investigate.

Spotting a grizzled man leaning against a wall, Nightingale approached him. "Excuse me, sir did you see the 'yellow lights’?"

The man looked up, his eyes wide with a mixture of excitement and fear. "Ah, I didn’t! But it’s unbelievable isn’t it! A bunch of pirates tried sailing into Korvosa last night, up near North Bridge. They didn't reply when they were hailed, and didn’t stop when they were supposed to, so the city's defences were activated. Trebuchets and ballista’s, mate. They turned the ship into a fiery wreck. The whole thing went up in flames, lit up the night sky like yellow lights before sinking to the bottom. Cor, wish I’d seen that. That would’ve been something"

Nightingale thanked the man and rejoined the group, sharing the information. "Pirates tried to sneak into the city last night. Didn't end well for them. Makes you wonder what they were after."

"Seems odd though," Byron said, a hint of disdain in his voice. "Pirates trying to sneak into the city. Doesn’t make sense"

The rest of the party nodded, it didn’t make sense, but then little did these days.

As the party navigated the labyrinthine streets of Korvosa, they found themselves approaching Eel's End. This district, normally alive with activity and exuberance, now seemed to carry an air of apprehension. Eel's End had always been a haven for gamblers, rogues, and those seeking the pleasures of the night, but today it was different. The usual laughter and shouts were subdued, and a nervous energy crackled through the air. It was nearly deserted.

Trevor, ever observant, noticed the change immediately. He caught sight of a familiar face on the streets – a wiry man named Scarrow, known for his ear to the ground and his talent for survival. Trevor approached him with a nod.

"Scarrow," Trevor began, "what's going on here? Eel's End feels... different."

Scarrow glanced around nervously before leaning in closer to Trevor. "You've heard, haven't you? Devaro Bavarsi, the King of Spiders, is dead. Assassinated."

Trevor's eyes widened in feigned surprise. "Dead? How?"

"The word on the street is that he was taken out by the Red Mantis Assassins," Scarrow, whispered, a shiver running through his voice. "You know what that means. If they've marked you, there's no escaping it. You're dead before you even realize they're coming. They kill and disappear without leaving a trace."

The Red Mantis Assassins were a spectre of fear in Korvosa, a name that conjured images of inescapable doom. Their reputation was such that even the most hardened criminals would pale at the thought of being their target.

"That's why everyone's on edge," Scarrow continued. "With Devaro gone, there's a power vacuum, and no one knows who’s going to fill it. It's like walking on a knife's edge around here."

Trevor thanked Scarrow and rejoined the group, relaying the news. Trevor and Nightingale just looked at each other with a silent understanding; no-one suspected them of the Spiders death.

As they finally left the district behind, the vibrant chaos of Eel's End gave way to the familiar sight of Vencarlo Orisini's academy. The imposing structure stood as a beacon of martial prowess and discipline. They approached the large wooden doors and knocked. The doors opened, and they were welcomed by Orisini himself. He quickly ushered them in.

The party followed and they made their way to the room where Taylan had been left, the familiar sight of the academy’s stone corridors comforting in its predictability.

As they entered, Taylan's face lit up with relief at the sight of his friends. "How did it go?" he asked, eyes wide with anticipation.

Before anyone could respond, Nightingale stepped forward with a small, signed poster of Calli. "A keepsake for you," he said, handing the items to Taylan. The poster was painted by Trinia, depicting an inspiring scene of Calli singing triumphantly. "Something to show you were there with us."

Taylan took the keepsake with a grateful and bemused nod, but his curiosity was evident. "What happened?"

Trevor held up a hand. "Before we get into that, Calli, could you remove the dagger? The one we suspect might be being used to scry on us?"

Calli looked puzzled. "It may have been used to start with, but it wouldn’t be needed any longer. The caster will simply scry on me directly, with or without the blade."

Trevor's expression remained calm but insistent. "Please, Calli. You can never be too careful."

Sensing his genuine concern, Calli acquiesced. She removed the dagger and placed it into their handy haversack, where it would be suspended in another plane of existence and unable to be targeted. Satisfied, Trevor gestured for her to proceed.

Calli took a deep breath and began to recount their journey. "Our guest was delivered safely and is on her way to a better place," she said.

Taylan, misunderstanding, looked stricken. "You mean she's dead?"

Byron immediately cuffed him on the back of the head. "Don't be a fool. She's fine. We got her out of the city safely."

With a reassuring nod from Trevor, Calli continued. "We encountered some trouble on the way. A group of goblins with a couple of dragonwolves attacked us; they were after the amulet you wear. They mentioned something about taking it back to 'The Lady.'"

Taylan's eyes widened. "The Lady?"

"Yes," Calli confirmed. "But that wasn't the worst of it. Turns out The Lady is a green dragon. Lady Emerald Siren Putrifax, Queen of Decay, sworn enemy of the White Maw! It’s old, and it’s powerful, and it claims to have killed the White Maw- a white dragon. And that amulet has something to do with it."

Taylan's face went pale, and he stumbled to a nearby chair, sinking into it. "A green dragon... hunting me?"

Calli nodded gravely. "Some of the goblins and the dragonwolves were children of hers, and it made us wonder about your white scales when you change. You said you didn’t know your parents… maybe one was a dragon? Either way, this is dangerous news. But you’re among friends here, and we will find a way to protect you."

Taylan looked around at his companions, his fear evident but tempered by the trust he had in them. "Thank you, all of you."

Byron, ever the reassuring presence, clapped him on the shoulder. "We'll get through this, Taylan. Together."

The conversation then shifted to Orisini. The party asked him what he knew of Trinia’s saviour. The master swordsman leaned back; his expression thoughtful. "I've had the honour of working with Blackjack several times over the years," he began. "The man is truly remarkable, both as a vigilante and as a swordsman. Magnificent, really and that’s saying something coming from me."

Nightingale, ever curious, took the opportunity to ask a question that had been bothering him. "Why would Blackjack salute me directly at the gallows when he saved Trinia?"

Orisini's eyes twinkled with intrigue. "Tell me, Nightingale, had you helped or assisted him in some way during the rescue?"

Nightingale nodded. "I did. I shot a scorching ray at the executioner to help him out."

Orisini raised his eyebrows, a hint of admiration in his gaze. "Ah, that explains it. Perhaps Blackjack has 'marked' you. It's long been my belief that there have been many Blackjacks over the decades, each passing the mantle to a worthy successor. It's possible that he was singling you out, preparing you to take over the ‘tradition’ someday. Or just saying thank you, of course."

The room fell into a contemplative silence as everyone absorbed Orisini’s words. The idea that Nightingale might be seen as a potential successor to the legendary vigilante was both awe-inspiring and daunting.

Breaking the silence, Orisini stood up, his expression becoming more serious. "There's something else I need to tell you all. I need to leave the academy for a while and 'go to ground.' There's too much heat on me from the authorities right now. If you need to contact me, the best way would be through Cressida Kroft. I can't guarantee that I'll come, but that will be your best bet."

Nightingale nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Thank you, Orisini. We'll make sure to keep that in mind."

As they prepared to leave the academy, Orisini offered them one last piece of advice. "Stay vigilant and trust in each other. The path of a hero is never easy, but it's the strength of your bond that will see you through the darkest times."

After Orisini had left the academy, the party gathered to discuss their next move. The conversation soon turned to Zellara’s house.

Calli was the first to speak, her tone upbeat. "The house is being restored and cleaned up nicely. It’s starting to like a home again. I had a key made for each of us." She passed them out, each one tied with a small satin bow.

Trevor, however, asked the uncomfortable question. "What about the paperwork? Has everything been cleared up legally?"

Calli hesitated for a moment before responding. "It's being processed. My mother is handling it."

Trevor frowned, his sense of duty to the law clear. "If we don’t have the paperwork yet, then it’s still technically crown property. We’d be trespassing if we stayed there."

Calli sighed, trying to make him see reason. "Trevor, my mother has everything under control. It’s just a matter of time. The crown doesn’t even know it’s empty!"

But Trevor was insistent, shaking his head. "We should always obey the law and do the right thing, regardless of how long it takes."

Before the discussion could go any further, Taylan piped up, his voice plaintive. "I really just want to sleep in a bed with a roof over my head tonight."

Trevor's resolve softened at that. He glanced at Taylan, then back at Calli, and finally relented with a resigned sigh. "Fine. Go for it, Taylan. But we should still be careful and keep a low profile until everything is sorted out."

Taylan suddenly had a thought about the green dragon. He remembered an inscription on his unusual necklace, “Blood of the white wyrm will open”. Taylan's eyes lit up with an idea.

“I think I should try spilling my blood on this amulet,” Taylan said, holding up the necklace. “The inscription could mean that this will help me against the green dragon.”

The party exchanged worried glances. Calli was the first to voice their collective concern. “We have no idea what kind of magic is imbued within that amulet. It could be dangerous.”

Byron nodded in agreement. “We should do this somewhere safe, away from prying eyes and potential hazards.”

Nightingale suggested, “Gaedren Lamm’s old base is abandoned. It might be the safest place to try this out.”

The decision made, the party set out for Gaedren Lamm’s old hideout. As they approached the decrepit building, four teenagers, known locally as the River Lads, caught sight of Byron and screamed in terror, running away. Byron had warned them before about squatting here, threatening to break their bones if he found them again. Byron secretly smiled as they ran into the distance.

The party entered the dilapidated building, its eerie silence only adding to the tension of what they were about to do. Taylan took a deep breath, drawing a knife from his belt. “Here goes nothing,” he said, as he made a small cut on his palm. Blood welled up and dripped onto the amulet.

The air seemed to thicken with anticipation as everyone held their breath, waiting for something—anything—to happen. But nothing did. Taylan frowned, puzzled. He then tried again but this time over his dragon scales. Still nothing. Then Taylan put the amulet around his neck and let the blood drip from his palm onto his neck where the amulet rested.

Again, nothing happened. The tension in the room dissipated into an anticlimactic silence. Taylan looked down at himself, now messier than before with streaks of blood smeared across his skin.

“Well, that was... disappointing,” he muttered, wiping his bloody hand on his trousers.

Byron let out a relieved chuckle. “At least it didn’t blow up or summon something worse.”

Calli sighed, her shoulders relaxing. “I guess it was worth a try. We’ll have to find another way to deal with the green dragon.”

Byron patted Taylan on the back. “Good effort. We’ll figure this out together.”

With a collective sense of relief and lingering curiosity, the party left Gaedren Lamm’s old base. But before they did, Calli flicked her wrist to clean Taylan up.

No one spotted Nightingale collecting a note tucked into an alcove of the building.

——————————————————————-

Days passed, and as usual, rumours swirled around Korvosa like leaves in the wind. Word was spreading that Arbiter Zenobia Zendaholm had vanished after giving the queen the Longacre Building, previously the center for justice in the city, to use as a home for the Grey Maidens. Whether paid off and fled, or worse, it was a treasonous act, and the people were unsure what else would be changing. Rumour suggested that the Queen was planning to replace the Sable Company with the Grey Maidens because they had failed in their duty to protect the city. This rumour reached the ears of Gina, Byron’s friend and another bouncer at Ruby’s Rest. The idea of becoming a member of the Queen’s Guards intrigued her, and she decided to seek Byron's advice.

"I've been thinking of signing up with the Grey Maidens," Gina confided to Byron one evening. "What do you think?"

Byron leaned back in his chair, considering her words carefully. “It’s your decision to make, Gina,” he finally said. “But if you do go for it, I’d be annoyed if you didn’t get it.”

Gina smiled at his response, a mixture of gratitude and determination in her eyes. "Thanks, Byron. That means a lot."

Nightingale visited the alchemist’s shop of Svjatlo Raev, the man he’d saved on his covert solo adventure, and slyly flashed a glimpse of the note left for him in Gaedren’s warehouse. Outloud Gale claimed to be there to pick up the healing potions for his friend. Raev’s eyebrows raised when he realized what the note was, and nodded. He placed a couple of ordinary herbal tonics on the counter for him, feigning a normal sale, but whispered that they were being watched. It was the Cerulean Society that had made him write the note, hoping to draw out the imposter. Nightingale thanked him and said they’d figure out an alternative when it was safe again.

Meanwhile, Calli had been busy finalising the paperwork for Zellara’s house. After many days of bureaucracy, she finally held the completed documents in her hands. The sense of accomplishment was immense, and she couldn’t help but smile, knowing she’d have no more arguments from Trevor about the legality of their residence. She busied herself continuing to renovate the space for the group’s habitation.

Trevor and Byron had also been discussing a new project: buying a property where they could rehabilitate horses and get the orphans at Otto’s church involved. This idea had taken root during one of their many conversations about how to give back to the community.

“It would give the orphans some purpose,” Trevor said, “and they could even earn a wage.”

Byron nodded, his eyes lighting up at the thought. “And we could have a pugilist gym as well, to make them stronger. It would teach them discipline and self-defence.”

Both barbarians liked the idea. They could see how it would benefit their community, giving the orphans a chance at a better life and creating a safe haven for horses. The thought of building something positive amidst the chaos of Korvosa was a beacon of hope for them.

As the two barbarians discussed their plans to help the community, a familiar face walked into the Cracked Weasel: Grau Soldado. The last time they had seen this soldier was when he asked for their help regarding a murder at a warehouse. Little did they know the dangers they would face when investigating that. Seeing him again was not the most welcome of sights. However, the man looked worried.

Grau approached their table, his face etched with anxiety and desperation. "I’m sorry to disturb you again gents” he started “but I’m at my wit’s end. My niece is sick. No one in Trail’s End knows what’s wrong with her. She’s covered in these red pocks, she can’t eat and my sisters got no money to pay for a priest. I then remembered how you and your colleagues were just brilliant during the riots, and how you helped me out. And how you handled that recent business down the warehouse. I need your help again. You’re all so resourceful- if you don’t know how to cure this, you must know someone who can. Please, you can’t just stand by while a child suffers, can you? My sister is terrified, and I’m scared for both of them."

Byron and Trevor exchanged glances. The memory of their previous encounter with Soldado stirred a mix of emotions: reluctance, concern, and a sense of duty. Despite their initial hesitation, they couldn't ignore the plea of a desperate man seeking help for his niece.

Trevor was the first to respond, his voice firm yet compassionate. “I’m not sure what we can do really. We’re not priests. But of course we won’t sit by. We’ll do what we can to help your niece. Let’s gather the others and figure out a plan.”

Byron and Trevor, along with a visibly distressed Grau, made their way through the bustling streets of Korvosa, determined to find Calli. If anyone could help Grau's niece, it would be her. Their first stop was Eudicot Manor. The grand estate loomed before them as they knocked on the imposing door. Renly, the ever-dutiful butler, answered.

"Good day, gentlemen. How may I assist you?" Renly inquired politely.

"We're looking for Calli. It's urgent," Byron stated, his usual gruff tone softened by the concern etched on his face.

Renly nodded, his expression remaining neutral. "Miss Calliandra is not here at the moment. She mentioned something about decorating a club house?"

"Thanks, Renly," Trevor said, clapping the butler on the shoulder, “You’re a good man”.

The trio hurried away, anxious to reach Calli. Unbeknownst to Trevor and Byron, by their mention of Calli’s whereabouts and association with Eudicot Manor, they might have inadvertently revealed her true identity, a secret that could lead to unforeseen consequences in the future.

Byron and Trevor, accompanied by a visibly anxious Grau, made their way through the streets of Korvosa to Zellara’s restored home. Using one of the keys they’d been given, they entered to find Calli with an pristine apron on trying, and failing, to hang some drapes. She turned to see her friends with the man who’d drunkenly accosted them that first night running through the riots.

"Byron, Trevor, what’s going on?" Calli asked, her curiosity piqued. Nightingale and Taylan joined them from the kitchen, where Gale had been making them all tea.

Before the barbarians could respond, Grau stepped forward, removing his hat respectfully. "Miss Calli, I’m Grau Soldado. I don’t know if you remember me, but I desperately need your help. My niece is gravely ill. No one in Trail's End knows what's wrong with her. She's covered in red pocks and keeps coughing. We need a healer, someone with magic to help her."

Calli’s expression turned sympathetic, but she shook her head. "Grau, I don't have the magic to cure diseases. You need a cleric."

Grau’s face fell, but he quickly composed himself. "I know, but the priests at the Church of Abadar demand 150 gold pieces for their services. My sister’s family can’t afford that, and I was only able to get together 100. Please, Miss Calli, you’re my last hope."

Calli glanced at Byron and Trevor, who shared her concern but looked uncertain. Without hesitation, she turned back to Grau. "I’ll give you the remaining 50 gold."

The room fell silent as everyone processed her words. Byron and Trevor exchanged surprised glances, and even Grau seemed momentarily stunned.

Calli arched a sculpted pink eyebrow as they silently stood in shock, confused at their confusion. "50 gold pieces is nothing to me if it means saving a child's life," Calli continued. "We’ll get you to the Church of Abadar and hire a priest."

Tears welled up in Grau’s eyes. Acts of such generosity were rare in Korvosa, a city often hardened by its struggles. "Thank you... thank you so much," he stammered, his voice choked with emotion. "You have no idea what this means to me and my family."

"Let's not waste any time," Calli said, gently patting Grau’s arm. "We’ll head to the church right now."

The party set off with renewed determination, making their way through the streets toward the Church of Abadar. The weight of their mission pressed upon them, but so did the hope of saving Grau’s niece.

The party made their way to the Church of Abadar, their conversation laden with frustration over the exorbitant cost of healing services. Calli grumbled, "150 gold pieces for a healing? It's ridiculous! How can they justify that?"

Nightingale nodded in agreement. "They're supposed to help people, not bankrupt them."

Trevor sighed, "It's the way of the city, unfortunately.”

When they arrived at the imposing structure of the Church of Abadar, they were greeted by a clerk at the entrance. "How may the church assist you today?" he asked, his tone polite but impersonal. The cathedral was opulent beyond anything even Calliandra was used to.

Grau stepped forward. "My niece is sick. We need a priest to heal her."

The clerk's expression softened, but he shook his head. "I'm afraid all our priests are currently occupied, tending to the sick across the city. We won't have anyone available until tomorrow."

The news hit like a punch to the gut. Calli and Nightingale tried every trick they could to persuade the man to provide a priest but to no avail. They even tried shaming the clerk for the prices the Church was charging, pointing out the obvious display of wealth all around them, but he explained that was all part of their unshakeable faith. Grau’s face fell. His whole world seemed to crumble beneath him. He quickly mentioned his sister's name in a desperate bid for any sliver of hope. "Please, my sister's name is Tayce Soldado. We really need help."

At this, the clerk's eyes widened slightly. "Tayce Soldado? A priest is already at her residence. She came earlier, pleading for assistance."

Grau's face flushed with a mix of relief and frustration. "She didn't have the money," he muttered, his voice laced with worry.

Byron placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Let's go. We need to get to your sister's house."

The party left the church, their pace quickening as they navigated the streets. The reality of the situation weighed heavily on Grau. "I told her not to go. She didn't have the money," he said, his voice tight with anxiety.

"She did what any mother would do," Calli reassured him. "She sought help for her child. Let's just hope the priest can help her."

The party immediately set off for Trails End.