Adventure Log XVI.I
A MONSTER REVEALED. PART 1
The morning sun broke through the hazy skies over Korvosa, its light dancing across the cobblestone streets. After the harrowing events of the previous day, the Flowers of Korvosa found themselves scattered across the city, each seeking solace in their own way.
Taylan, pretending to be a ‘connoisseur of refinement’, indulged in a luxurious mud bath at a hotel with his new bride. Lounging in the warm, mineral-rich mud, he let out a contented sigh. The weight of yesterday’s battle seemed to melt away, replaced by a serene calm. As attendants buzzed around them, Taylan reflected on his wedding and then on the Green Dragon. It had been a surreal day. He had planned on a late checkout, but overhearing someone praising the queen he had been unable to hold his tongue, and the ensuing argument ended with all involved evicted. He grabbed some complimentary pastries on the way out, determined to get his money’s worth.
Back at Zellara’s modest yet cosy home, Nightingale was busy preparing breakfast. Calli woke late to the smells of bacon and eggs and wondered when he’d gotten in. She’d tried waiting up for him, but after the long day before she’d given in to sleep by midnight. By the time she got downstairs, Taylan was already sat at the table and covered in crumbs- and somehow muddy.
Meanwhile, Travis wandered aimlessly through the streets of Korvosa, his cloak pulled tight against the morning chill. The city was a patchwork of life and decay, and he found himself drawn to the quieter corners, where shadows clung to alleyways and whispered secrets to those who lingered.
He stopped at a bustling market, watching vendors hawk their wares and children dart between the stalls. For a moment, he felt like an outsider in his own city. Everything had changed and yet at the same time it hadn’t. Only he had changed. The ‘convergence’ of his two personalities had made him into Travis. But he didn’t know ‘who’ Travis was and what he cared about-if at all. He resumed his aimless stroll, trying to understand his ‘new self’
Byron spent his morning moving with purpose through the city, seeking any word of Gina. But no matter where he looked, Gina was nowhere to be found.
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As the Flowers gathered at Zellara’s house, the room grew heavy with a palpable energy, an ancient pull that seemed to come from nowhere yet everywhere. Calli sat in Zellara’s seat shuffling the fortune teller’s Harrow deck without even realizing it, as one by one the group took their seats around the circular table where they’d first met. She spread out the cards face down, and was compelled to draw one for herself. Unable to resist the mystical impulse, the others followed. As they all revealed what they’d pulled, she heard Zellara’s voice in her ear, whispering the meanings, which she relayed.
The Personal Cards
Calli drew The Fool. A card of boundless potential and naïve courage, it reminded her of her audacious spirit and her ability to take bold leaps of faith, though often without knowing the full consequences. It brought to mind a clever feigning of idiocy for a deeper purpose.
Nightingale revealed The Hidden Truth. The card’s meaning cut deeply into him, symbolizing unseen truths and buried emotions—both things he struggled to face in the wake of recent events. It signaled a dangerous secret.
Byron turned over The Snake Bite. It was a harsh reminder of betrayal, discord and the dangers lurking in plain sight, resonating with his growing unease after his search for Gina. But the card promised a mental leap or discovery.
Taylan found The Joke. The card’s image, a figure laughing amidst chaos, made him think that sometimes the most difficult of obstacles can only be defeated through trickery, or humour. The card warned the joke may be on him.
Travis drew The Foreign Trader. The card evoked change and a sense of the unknown, reflecting his role as a bridge between worlds and the secrets he carried, even from himself. It also made him think of spies, merchants, and those who truck in information. The phrase “Informative pact” was whispered by Zellara’s ghost.
The Flowers barely had time to process their significance before Calli took up the cards again, reshuffled, and dealt three rows of three cards. A full reading.
The Past
The next three cards spoke of the past, painting a grim picture of the forces that had shaped their journey thus far.
The Snake Bite reappeared, its venomous fangs representing the inevitability of treachery and the repercussions of evil schemes.
The Cyclops, a card of singular vision and destructive force, symbolised the sheer might of an adversary who had acted with ruthless determination.
The Inquisitor glared out from the deck, representing cruel judgement and merciless truth-seekers who had shaped their destinies through manipulation.
Zellara spoke through Calli to reassure the group that the cards confirmed they couldn’t have stopped what was coming.
The Present Prophecy
The next three cards foretold a perilous prophecy already in motion, warning the Flowers of an imminent reckoning.
The Theatre revealed a grand stage, reminding the Flowers that they were but players in a larger narrative. Their actions were being watched, their roles predetermined in a cosmic drama.
The Locksmith spoke of a vital discovery—a hidden key, both literal and metaphorical, that could unlock the path ahead.
The Uprising showed chaos, masses rising against them, and overwhelming odds. It was a harbinger of the challenges they must face, and perhaps, overcome.
The Flowers would need to find clues in the face of overwhelming odds.
The Future
Finally, the deck revealed its last three cards—ones that spoke of salvation through strategy and wisdom.
The Fiend, an ominous card of dark forces and looming destruction, served as a warning of the dire consequences of failure.
The Rabbit Prince, a paradoxical figure of whimsy and chaos, foretold an unpredictable battle where cunning would outweigh brute strength.
The Vision, a card of enlightenment and profound knowledge, promised that their path would be illuminated if they embraced clarity and insight.
Through capriciousness in combat and arcane power they would prevent or overcome a great calamity.
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With that, Calli felt the ghost of Zellara depart. The Flowers sat in stunned silence, the weight of the Harrow reading pressing heavily upon them. They weren’t just fighting battles, they were part of something bigger.
Zellara’s house fell into an uneasy quiet, as each member of the Flowers wrestled with their own fears, hopes, and the shadow of what lay ahead.
Nightingale returned to the kitchen to finish plating up meals for everyone. He moved around the small kitchen with surprising efficiency. It was an odd sight—this enigmatic, brooding figure reduced to domesticity. As the Flowers lingered in the cosy confines of Zellara’s house, they exchanged the rumours circulating through Korvosa’s streets.
Travis leaned forward, his tone conspiratorial. “Word is, the Queen’s crown isn’t just for show. It’s the key to her power over the Grey Maidens. And get this—people are saying the Maidens aren’t even alive. Zombies, controlled by whatever magic she’s got locked into that crown.”
Calli chimed in, her voice carrying a hint of humour “Another one I’ve heard is about Master Carowyn from Carowyn Manor. Supposedly, he’s completely under the thumb of a certain Madame Devlin. She’s said to have him wrapped around her little finger—whatever she wants, she gets.”
All the Flowers just grinned at this thought.
Nightingale began serving out the plates, and as he handed Travis one the half-orc stopped him for a moment. He spoke low and serious, “Thanks. For this and for your help the other day. That couldn’t have been easy for you…”
The older gentleman’s face became an emotionless mask. He quietly thanked him in return for his kind words and moved along. He raised his voice again to volunteer news he’d heard in town to avoid any further conversation on Rose. He shared that he’d heard the Arkonas were still in Old Korvosa and eager to get it back under control. There’s a reward for anyone who could assist. Taylan added he’d heard people on the streets speculate the Arkona family was secretly ruled by the Cerulean Society, which wasn’t far from the truth. Gale set a dish in front of Taylan, his expression still neutral, but the twinkle in his eye betrayed his intentions.
“Salt shaker?” Nightingale asked innocently, holding out the small glass container.
Taylan reached for it, but the moment his fingers closed around it, the shaker fell apart in his hands. Salt spilled everywhere, covering Taylan and the table.
The room froze, then erupted into laughter—well, all except Taylan, who scowled and brushed salt from his lap.
“Really, Nightingale?” Taylan grumbled, narrowing his eyes.
Nightingale shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Thought it might... spark something.”
Calli caught on first, tilting her head. “You were testing the prank, weren’t you? Hoping it’d activate that gift you got.”
Nightingale sighed, the faintest hint of frustration crossing his face. “Apparently, it needs to be bigger. Something more... impactful. Something that shakes status, diminishes pride.”
Travis leaned back in his chair, smirking. “You’re saying your magic gift only works if the prank’s humiliating enough? You’ve got your work cut out for you.”
“I think the librarian said the prank needed to be something that would increase notoriety of you or your group. Doing it in private like this won’t be enough, you’ll have to have a crowd.” Calliandra posited as she reflexively prestidigitated the spilled salt away, before returning the conversation to the rumours. “You know, if the Arkonas manage to return peace to Old Korvosa where Queen Illeosa failed, she’d be jealous of that success.”
Nightingale’s mind churned with possibilities, already scheming for a prank that might truly unlock the mysterious power he’d been granted.
“Not sure how much worse it could get. Those bloody Maidens are still shooting anyone who tries to escape the island.” Byron’s voice was cold thinking of the abuse his people were suffering.
The green man swallowed the bite he’d been chewing and pointed at his fellow barbarian. “Wait a minute. Maybe the Arkonas are exactly why the Queen’s coming down so hard on Old Korvosa. She feels threatened by them.”
It made perfect sense. Petty and cruel, but it would explain things. The group absorbed this grim information as they finished their breakfasts, and through no fault of Nightingale’s it didn’t taste as good as when they’d started.
The Flowers discussed what their plan of action for the day would be. Calli informed everyone she’d received a scroll that could help find Gina, but that they should be ready in case it was truly a rescue mission.
Nightingale straightened his coat and said, “I’ll need to stop by my alchemist first. There’s something I’ve been cooking up in my head.”
“Cooking? Haven’t you done enough of that today?” Taylan quipped, still finding traces of salt in his pockets.
Nightingale chuckled. “This isn’t for breakfast, my dear boy. This is for the greater good—or at least, a good laugh.”
Byron and Taylon would return to Carowyn Manor to let Madame Devlin and Alice know what they’d be up to while Gale and Travis visited the alchemist Svjatlo Raev for supplies. Calli would use the time to freshen up for the day and do her vocal warm-ups. The party would reconvene at the Nabootique to check in on Master Roshi before making the short walk from there to the Longacre building where they’d continue the search for Byron’s missing bouncer Gina.
With the decision made, the group gathered their things, locked up Zellara’s house, and headed into the bustling streets of Korvosa. The city buzzed with life, its usual mix of shady deals, loud market calls, and the occasional guard patrol filling the air. Yet beneath it all, there was an undercurrent of tension—a subtle unease that none of them could quite put their finger on.
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The alchemist’s shop was a cluttered, aromatic place filled with bubbling vials, strange powders, and a faintly glowing cauldron in the corner. Raev, wiry man with wild hair and an air of perpetual distraction, looked up from his workbench as they entered. Seeing who it was he bent down and retrieved a few small prepared bottles that he placed on the counter. “Well met! I have your previous order just here.” His eyes flickered to Travis and he added, “You’ve already paid, of course, thank you again for your custom!”
Nightingale leaned on the counter, his usual charm on full display as he swiftly made the bottles vanish inside his coat. “Good day my friend, I need your skills again. I’m after something unique—a potion that looks like blood, smells like blood, but when it’s spilled, it turns into a shower of confetti. Ideally, very loud confetti.”
The alchemist blinked, clearly intrigued. “And what would you need such a thing for?”
“Oh, nothing much,” Nightingale replied airily. “Just a little harmless prank on the Church of Asmodeus. I figure even the most humourless of fiends could use some... colour in their lives.”
The alchemist grinned, shaking his head. “You’re lucky I enjoy a challenge. Give me a day or two, and I’ll have your potion ready.”
As Nightingale finalised the details, Travis, who had been silently perusing the strange wares, suddenly spoke up. “Actually, I’ve got a request too.”
The alchemist raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What sort of mischief are you planning?”
“Less mischief, more practicality,” Travis said. “We’ve run into too many invisible foes lately, and I want something that’ll give us an edge. Can you make a paint bomb? Something that’ll explode and coat everything nearby in brightly coloured paint? If a creature’s hiding, we’ll see it.”
The alchemist’s grin widened. “A simple but effective idea. Yes, I can make that. I’ll even make the paint glow for extra visibility.”
“Perfect,” Travis replied, already imagining how useful it would be in the field.
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The five adventurers regrouped at the Nabootique and followed Taylan inside. As The Flowers stepped into Master Roshi's store, the scene before them was one of absolute chaos. Broken furniture littered the floor, bottles lay shattered, and curtains hung in tatters as if a whirlwind had passed through.
Taylan froze in the doorway, his expression somewhere between horrified and baffled. “What in the nine hells happened here?”
From the wreckage, a faint plume of cigar smoke curled into the air. There, amidst the destruction, sat Master Roshi. He was reclined in a chair that teetered on two legs, puffing contentedly on a thick cigar. His shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a very sweaty chest, his hair disheveled, and he wore an expression of smug satisfaction mixed with utter exhaustion.
The Flowers exchanged uneasy glances as Taylan cautiously approached. “Master Roshi... are you all right?”
Roshi let out a slow, dreamy exhale of smoke. “Oh, I’m more than all right, my boy. Had a visitor... quite unexpected.”
Nightingale’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of visitor leaves a house looking like it was mauled by an angry minotaur?”
Roche’s grin widened, and he leaned back, the chair creaking ominously under his weight. “Constance Del La Verte. She came calling.”
At the mention of the Constance Del la Verte, the room collectively tensed. Calli’s voice cut through the rising unease. “What did she want?”
“She was looking for someone,” Roshi replied with a lazy wave of his cigar. “A... Trevor, I believe she said? Didn’t know the name. But that hardly mattered once we got to talking.”
Byron raised an eyebrow. “Talking? Judging by the state of this place, it looks like talking wasn’t the main event.”
Roshi barked out a laugh, loud and unabashed. “Oh, it wasn’t, my boy. One thing led to another, and, well...” He gestured around him at the carnage, clearly unfazed by the appalled looks the Flowers were giving him.
Taylan groaned audibly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Master Roshi, please tell me you didn’t—”
Roshi looked at the young sorcerer with a sly grin. “Oh, I did, my boy. I did! And let me tell you, it was amazing!”
The male Flowers collectively recoiled, their stomachs churning at the implications. They’d fought hounds of Tindalos, undead ghouls and zombies, vampires and demons, even a literal swarm of flying teeth and tentacles... and yet somehow, Travis felt this was the most unsettling thing they’d ever experienced.
Calli’s eyes went wide as her vivid imagination started to wonder the logistics of what occurred. She knew humanoid-dragon relations were possible, especially knowing Taylan’s background now- and that’s when a thought occurred to her. “This could solve our dragon problem. Taylan, you said Master Roshi is a sort of mentor to you, right? Maybe like an adopted father-figure? So what if we offer for her to marry him instead? Pact complete, you’re off the hook, we don’t have to keep looking over our shoulders for green hybrids anymore!”
“Oh no, no, no. I can’t be tied down! On that note,” the small elderly man said, standing with a stretch, “I need some sleep. Taylan, be a good lad and tidy up, won’t you?”
Taylan stared at him, slack-jawed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
But Roshi didn’t wait for an answer. He ambled off toward the stairs to his bedroom, leaving the Flowers standing in the wreckage, trying to process the disturbing events.
As the men righted tables and chairs, Calli utilized liberal applications of Mending and Prestidigitation, leaving Master Roche's disheveled shop spotless—at least on the surface. She wrinkled her nose at the faint lingering scent of cigar smoke and… other less savoury aromas but decided not to comment. “Unbelievable,” she said with a look of disdain as the group stepped outside.
——————————————————————
As the Flowers made the short journey through the streets towards the Longacre building where Gina was last confirmed spotted, they brainstormed the logistics of the search. Byron’s thoughts were consumed with his missing friend. The faint hope of finding her gnawed at him. Calli explained the Locate Creature scroll had limited range and duration. They needed a way to cover more ground, and fast.
With the assistance of the other casters in the group, a plan took shape. Gale would cast Fly on Calliandra while Taylan could cast Invisibility, allowing her to search from the air without drawing attention, even over the quarantined Old Korvosa. Little Focker, Byron’s loyal drake, would accompany her. His sharp senses and ability to see through invisibility would offer both protection and an extra pair of eyes.
They reached the large official building and found a secluded area nearby to begin. Calli unrolled the scroll and recited the words, feeling uncomfortably mundane not singing for her spells. It vanished in a swirl of color, and they all waited. She didn’t feel anything at all, and sadly shook her head. She’d have to go hunting.
Nightingale made a series of hand gestures and released an arcane wave at his young charge. Pink curls began gently floating around her. Next, Taylan smirked as he prepared to cast his spell, but what happened next shocked everyone. With a loud, comedic pop, a bubble emerged from Taylan’s backside, growing rapidly before engulfing Calli. She vanished as the bubble dissolved, leaving everyone momentarily stunned.
“Taylan,” Nightingale said, his voice deadpan, “is that... your new signature casting method?”
“What can I say? Magic works in mysterious ways!” Taylan replied, clearly amused.
Calli, now invisible and hovering slightly above the ground, rolled her unseen eyes and took off into the sky.
As Calli soared over the river and into Old Korvosa, the city’s tragic state unfolded beneath her. A stench of ash and decay wafted up as she flew. Entire neighbourhoods were reduced to charred ruins, blackened timbers and rubble marking where homes once stood.
In the streets below, gangs wearing grotesque clown masks roamed in packs. They wielded axes, staffs, and crudely made weapons, their chaotic movements spreading fear. Calli paused over a burnt-out theatre, remembering what Byron and Travis had told her about a mysterious “Emperor.” She could see a busy building nearby marked with a good deal of clown paint that had no floors or roof within the walls, but numerous rope bridges and catwalks full of people shouting and jeering down into the centre. Getting closer she could see there was indeed a man wearing an ornate cape and costume crown presiding over the scene on a large throne. Next to him a small person wearing an executioner’s hood with only one eye attended. Everyone was fixated on what looked like two teams of people chasing around a squealing pig. They wrestled with it until someone finally was able to toss it into a hole dug into the ground. From an unseen cave within enormous claws lashed out and rent the poor creature to bits, leaving bloodied viscera smeared where it once had been. The crowd erupted into wild cheers, their mania both sickening and surreal.
Calli moved on quickly, her heart pounding.
Calli pressed forward, scanning every corner for a trace of Gina. She passed landmarks she recognized: the remains of Ruby’s Rest, now little more than ash and rubble. The Cracked Weasel, surprisingly untouched, stood defiantly intact. However, it had been claimed by another gang of clown-faced marauders, their raucous laughter echoing into the night.
Despite her thorough search, Calli found no sign of Gina. Frustrated and racing against the clock—she knew Taylan’s spells wouldn’t last much longer—she veered toward the Arkona estate. She noted the burnt skeleton of Orisini’s Academy as she skimmed the outskirts of Fort Korvosa’s imposing estate walls, letting the 600ft range of the spell feel for Gina without having to risk getting too close to Arkona Palace herself. Most of the buildings there appeared unscathed, but her Locate Person spell yielded nothing. Gina was not in Old Korvosa.
Calli decided to make one last effort and turned back towards the main city. She rounded the coast of the Heights and moved through to Midland, threading the distance between the Queen’s castle and the Academae, desperately hoping to feel the spell react. Her time was almost up, and reluctantly she began the return to the Longacre building where the others waited.
Then, she felt it. A tug at her senses. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but unmistakably Gina. Calli focused, letting the magic guide her. She was nearly back to where she’d started! If she’d gone the opposite way she’d have sensed it right away. But something was wrong. The connection was distorted, like trying to see something behind a waterfall. Calli remembered Nif’s lecturing tone explaining the stipulations of the spell, and what might block it. Running Water. She landed, windswept from her aerial speed around the city, and the feeling got a bit stronger, pulling her down.
“She’s underground,” Calli murmured to herself, the pieces clicking into place. “The sewers. She must be in the sewers.”
With her magic fading, Calli ran back to rejoin the Flowers on foot. They needed a new plan, one that involved navigating the dangerous labyrinth below Korvosa.
The rest of the Flowers were already waiting, their expressions a mix of hope and concern. Without hesitation, she shared what she had discovered: Gina’s faint trace, distorted and faint, came from underground—deep in the sewers beneath Korvosa.
Byron’s fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles whitening. “Then let’s go now,” he said, his voice edged with desperation. “If she’s down there, she needs us.”
Nightingale stepped forward, his tone calm but firm. “Rushing blindly into the sewers without a plan isn’t bravery, Byron. It’s suicide. We need information, and we know exactly who can help.”
The Flowers exchanged glances, all nodding in agreement. Eerie Yelloweyes, the enigmatic wererat who frequented Korvosa’s black markets, had extensive knowledge of the city’s underbelly—literally. If anyone could guide them through the labyrinthine sewers, it was her.
——————————————————————
It didn’t take long to track down Eerie. She was exactly where they expected: tucked away in Ridgefield pub, her piercing yellow eyes glinting in the shadows.
“Well, well,” she purred, her voice smooth and knowing. “If it isn’t my favourite band of adventurers. What brings you crawling into the dark today?”
Byron wasted no time, stepping forward and explaining the situation. He laid bare his desperation, recounting Gina’s likely presence in the sewers and their need for a map or safe passage.
Eerie listened intently, her sharp eyes never leaving Byron’s face. When he finished, she tilted her head, her grin fading slightly. “The area you’re describing... that’s not just any part of the sewers. It’s dangerous territory. No one ventures near it—unless they’ve got a death wish.”
“What do you mean?” Taylan asked, frowning.
“That section is guarded by the Grey Maidens,” Eerie explained, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. “They patrol it relentlessly, and if that wasn’t bad enough, there are ravenous Otyughs down there. Big, nasty things with an appetite for anything unlucky enough to stumble across them.”
Byron’s expression hardened. “I don’t care who or what is down there. I have to find her.”
Eerie regarded him for a long moment. “You’re lucky I have a soft spot for fools,” she said with a wry smile. “I’ll do what I can. I might be able to scout out a route for you—a safe one, or at least safer than charging straight into the Grey Maidens’ blades. But it’ll take time. A day, at least.”
Byron opened his mouth to protest, but Calli placed a hand on his shoulder, silencing him. “We’ll come back tomorrow,” she said firmly. “Thank you, Eerie.”
Eerie smirked, waving them off. “Don’t thank me yet. If I come back with nothing, you’re on your own.”
As the Flowers left the market, Byron’s frustration was palpable. His steps were quick and heavy, his emotions barely contained.
“We’ll find her, Byron,” Nightingale said, his voice reassuring. “But we can’t do it recklessly. Eerie knows these sewers better than anyone. Let’s give her the time she needs.”
Byron exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I know you’re right. I just hate waiting.”
“We all do,” Calli said gently. “But Gina’s survival might depend on us getting this right. Let’s be smart about this.”
With that, the Flowers agreed to regroup the next day, their minds already turning to preparations for the dangerous journey ahead. For Byron, it was a bitter pill to swallow, but he knew that patience now might make all the difference later.
——————————————————————
As the Flowers moved away from Ridgefield, the city’s usual din gave way to a different kind of chaos— commotion rippled through the streets in a wave, news travelling and leaving panic and confusion in its wake. Snippets of conversation floated through the air like falling shards of glass.
“The Queen... she made an announcement…”
“Endrin… did you hear what happened to him?”
“She pulled it from her skull!”
The Flowers exchanged uneasy glances as they edged closer to the commotion, their curiosity outweighing their dread. A street vendor, too rattled to mind his wares, relayed the news in a trembling voice.
Queen Ileosa had declared the plague defeated, her words dripping with triumph. She proclaimed Doctor Davaulus, the traitor responsible, would be executed. The Queen’s Physicians? Disbanded. Yet the city, she said, remained battered.
“She’s named the Grey Maidens as the city’s protectors,” the vendor whispered, as if saying it too loudly might summon them. “And Sabina Merrin… she’s the new General of Korvosa.”
The Flowers bristled at the mention of the Grey Maidens, their hands instinctively drifting toward their weapons.
But the vendor wasn’t finished. “That’s not the worst of it,” he added, leaning closer. His voice dropped further. “The Order of the Nail have abandoned the city, and she’s dissolved the Sable Company. Said the marines are being folded into the Guard. Then—then she called Commandant Endrin to step forward.”
The Flowers fell silent, their breaths caught in their throats as the tale unfolded.
Endrin had obeyed, stepping up to surrender his badge of office. But as he reached for it, something shifted in his expression. He didn’t hand it over—instead, he hurled it at her, the metal striking the Queen across her cheek.
The crowd had frozen in collective shock, their disbelief mirrored in Ileosa’s wide eyes.
“Your shameful reign ends now!” Endrin had roared, his voice a clarion call of defiance. “Korvosa will be free again!”
Before anyone could react, Endrin’s crossbow was in his hands. The bolt flew true, slicing through the air with deadly precision—and buried itself deep in the Queen’s temple. For a heartbeat, the throne room had been silent. Then Ileosa’s hand rose, steady and deliberate, to the bolt lodged in her skull.
She yanked it free, her composure returning as if she had merely brushed away a strand of hair. Blood trickled down her face, stark against her porcelain skin, but she paid it no mind. Instead, she stepped forward, her presence filling the area like a rising storm.
In a blink, she was before Endrin, her hand snapping out to seize him by the throat. She lifted him effortlessly, her grip crushing and inhuman. The crowd, frozen in terror, watched as she raised the bolt he had fired and drove it between his eyes with a sickening crunch.
Endrin’s lifeless body crumpled to the floor as Ileosa turned to face the onlookers. Her voice rang out, cold and commanding.
“This shall be the fate of all enemies of Korvosa!” she declared, her words slicing through the air like a blade. “Mark well his death! It is only the first!”
Before the crowd could react, a robed mage stepped forward, taking her hand. With a sharp incantation, they vanished, leaving behind only the memory of her chilling display and the blood-streaked floor where a hero had fallen.
The Flowers stood rooted in place, the weight of the Queen’s ruthlessness bearing down on them like a tangible force. Byron’s fists clenched, his fury barely contained.
“She’s not human,” Nightingale muttered, his voice low. “No one—nothing—could survive that.”
“She’s more than a tyrant,” Calli said, her tone heavy with foreboding. “She’s a monster. And she’s only just begun.”
——————————————————————
As the city whispered of rebellion and fear, the Flowers knew they had to act—but against a foe like Queen Ileosa, the cost of failure would be catastrophic. Every corner of Korvosa seemed to pulse with the dread of impending doom, and every shadow could hide an enemy, loyal to the queen or worse, to her Grey Maidens. The walls were closing in on them, and the threat of the queen’s wrath loomed large. Their only choice now was to fight, but how could they hope to win against someone so powerful, so dangerous?
Determined to move quickly, the Flowers sped on Gale’s summoned spectral steeds towards Citadel Volshyenek to ask Field Marshall Cressida Kroft what their next steps should be. The streets, once filled with the noise of merchants and the chatter of the townsfolk, now seemed hollow and uneasy. The city felt as if it were holding its breath, waiting for something terrible to happen.
As they turned a corner near Zellara’s home on the way, a figure emerged from the shadows and stood in their path to flag them down. The recognized the stern face of Nightingale’s mother Clara. She nodded sharply at her son, “James.” before focusing on Calli. Byron and Travis looked at each other in surprise to finally hear Gale’s first name.
Nightingale clenched his fists around his reigns. “Mother.” If she used his name while he was on duty with Calliandra she must be incredibly stressed. This was serious.
Clara continued, “Calli, your mother sends word. You all have to leave town. Now.”
Calli and Nightingale dismounted to get closer so Clara could lower her voice. The remaining trio formed a perimeter on their mounts to keep an eye out. “Your mother says the queen is in a rage and lashing out at any perceived threat- real or imagined. And she hates you especially. You and the rest of the Flowers have been declared enemies of the state. We’re not sure why, maybe she thinks you all were trying to show her up by doing what her Maidens could not? Whatever the reason, it isn’t safe to stay.” She looked again at her son, “Any of you.”
Clara put a hand out towards Gale, and he gripped her forearm in a warrior’s embrace. This was the most affection Calli had ever witnessed Clara show him in public, and it underlined the seriousness of the matter.
“No.” Calli looked from face to face, knowing everyone had too much to lose to run away. “I’m not running. We saved the town before, we can do it again. We just have to be careful. Clara, thank you for the message. Send my family my love. It’s best you don’t know what we’re up to from here.”
Clara looked like she wanted to say more, but Nightingale gave another squeeze of her arm and she sighed. “Gods be with you. See you on the other side.” Releasing her son, she left the circle and walked into the frantic crowds, not looking back.
Realizing that they were now the hunted, the Flowers ducked into the nearest empty alley. Nightingale dismissed their mounts, recognizable as something the Flowers utilised. Knowing they couldn’t move around as themselves anymore (or in Calliandra’s case, as her usual alter-ego) Calli made use of her disguise kit and aged the men up quite a bit, altering their faces to make it even harder to place their true identities.* They found an old monk’s robe, which they gave to Byron, and Nightingale, Taylan, and Travis used the magic in their recent gifts to change their clothing to match. Calli used her magic hairpin to change her own features and colourings, becoming a alightly older blonde full-elf, who while not a monk, was in respectfully dark clothing. In these humble, plain appearances it was a perfect disguise to avoid suspicion. They couldn’t trust anyone, not in this city. The Queen’s spies could be anywhere, watching every street, every alley.
“Let's get this show on the road, gents!” Calli proclaimed to the party as she exited the alley. “We should stick to the plan. Get to Kroft and see what she knows.”
Travis shook his head. “It’s too obvious. Even in disguise, they’ll be looking for us. Four lads and a little lady turning up will make them suspicious. We can’t all go.”
“We can use Gaedren’s boat as a bolthole. Might need to make sure no other thugs have moved in, though.” Byron suggested.
The rest of the party agreed with them, so much to Calli’s reluctance, they split up. Byron, Nightingale, and Travis would go ahead to Gaedren Lamm’s warehouse to make sure it’s still a secure hideout. Calli and Taylan would continue to Kroft. Calli took her fellow half-elf’s arm in her own as if leading an elder, and forced herself to leave the perceived safety of the group. Nightingale found himself subtly turning back to check on the duo as they grew further apart, and on one occasion noticed Byron looking, too. Travis was more focused, he had a goal in mind and obstacles to watch out for, he would get them there in one piece.
*A scene from this is available as a Character Log entitled Byron & Calli: Exchanging Looks.
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Between the three of them it was easy work avoiding the Grey Maidens and getting to the warehouse in the fishing district they’d claimed from Gaedren Lamm. In spite of the news, work continued here where the lower classes labored. Byron took out their key, but the door swung open as he touched it, and the reek of old death greeted them. The warehouse was dark, even in the middle of the day, due to the lack of windows, so after cautiously making their way inside, Nightingale shut the door behind them and conjured a magical light.
The first couple of rooms were empty, but when they reached the open space of the main room a grisly sight revealed itself. Around the room were the four River Lads that Byron had chased off previously, along with a handful of goons from the Red Scarves. All dead with signs of having had the plague, for at least a few days now. The River Lads had been murdered. It looked as if the Red Scarves were going to try and take the location, but caught the sickness for their troubles. Travis bent down to pick up one of the bodies, using its clothes as handholds to avoid having to touch the foul flesh.
“As distasteful as it is, we should leave them here. If anyone comes poking around the place will look like it’s still abandoned,” Nightingale recognized a couple of the Red Scarves from his solo activity, and was pleased to see that in spite of escaping his trap they’d fallen anyway.
Travis shrugged, “Sure. But this is for the shark.”
Indeed, as they left the side exit on to the outer walkway they saw motion in the water. They made it through the decoy boat, down the secret hatch, and on to the hidden walkway before the distinctive fin broke the surface and began heading directly for them. Travis chucked the body at it and Nibbles, its hunger insatiable, snapped at the body, dragging it under the murky water as the others watched in grim silence. It was a stark reminder of how far they had fallen—surrounded by death, fighting for survival, and with very few allies left to trust.
They were relieved to find Gaedren’s inner sanctum was exactly as they’d left it. The hideout felt cold and empty. They gathered inside, sitting down in the dim light to take stock of their situation. The reality of what had just happened—and what was about to happen—pressed heavily on them. The Queen was hunting them. Despite saving Korvosa from the plague, it now felt as though the entire city had turned against them. At the moment all they could do was wait.
As the silence stretched on, Travis and Nightingale found solace in the simple act of playing cards, shuffling them mechanically, as if the rhythm of the game might drown out the chaos around them. The cards were a small escape from the overwhelming pressure, a way to calm their nerves, even if only for a moment.
Byron wasn’t able to focus on even that. He prowled the room like a caged animal, furious at the situation and his inability to take immediate action. He worried for his friends at the Carowyns, and for his comrades at arms Calli and Taylan, risking their own lives to bring them information. And Gina… he still had to find her, somehow, in spite of everything. He wished he had something to hit.
——————————————————————
The gate of the citadel was an unsettling sight. Only a lone guard stood at the entrance, his eyes dull with fatigue, his posture slouched in defeat. The once-pristine courtyard where soldiers trained now lay still, the air thick with neglect. Broken weapons and discarded armour pieces were strewn about, and the absence of life in this place was like a haunting ghost. Inside, the silence was oppressive. Dust settled on forgotten tables and empty barracks, and the occasional scurrying rat was the only sign of movement. The Citadel, once a symbol of Korvosa’s strength, now felt like a decaying carcass. Not wanting to tie Cressida to them any more than she already was, they didn’t tell the guard who they really were, only saying they carried a critical message that was for Kroft’s ears alone. He eyed them warily, but called for her all the same.
When Kessida Kroft appeared to greet them, she looked like someone who had been weathered by storms too long to count. Her face was gaunt, eyes sunken, and her uniform—usually sharp and immaculate—was rumpled and stained. Calli passed her the writ Cressida had given the Flowers previously, a silent indication of what business they were on, and the astute woman didn’t waste time on pleasantries, simply motioning for the duo to follow her into the heart of the keep. She led them through a door they’d not been in before, down a narrow hallway, through a strange fog, and into a plain meeting room. Inside was a single long table illuminated by the flickering glow of an oil lamp. The air here felt thick with secrecy—the walls hummed with the power of a private sanctum spell, ensuring that none could listen in.
Taylan whispered into Calli’s ear that it was a spell called Mage’s Private Sanctum, and it meant they were as safe as they could be to talk freely, “So I don’t actually need to be whispering at all,” he finished at normal volume- still into her ear.
They confirmed to Cressida exactly who they were, and once they were all seated the Field Marshall took a deep breath, her fingers trembling slightly as they rested on the table.
“Korvosa is dying,” she began, her voice hoarse, as though speaking the words pained her. “No, worse than that… Korvosa is being killed. Assassinated. And the one who’s doing it is our own queen.”
Her gaze flicked to each of them, a mixture of sorrow and desperation in her eyes.
“Everything you’ve uncovered—the link between Ileosa and the plague—it’s undeniable. But what happened this morning… Endrin is dead now. And with him, any hope of stopping her through conventional means.” She looked away briefly, the weight of it all threatening to crush her. “She’s got more power now than she ever had before. Her Grey Maidens are unstoppable. I can't move against her—not without sealing my own death and the death of everyone in this keep.”
Cressida ran a hand through her disheveled hair, her brow furrowed in deep worry.
Calli hesitantly asked, “Endrin’s family, are they going to be okay? He’s got a wife and two daughters.”
“I’m not sure, yet. I hope so. Did you know them?”
“We performed at the youngest’s birthday recently,” Taylan covered for Calli, knowing she couldn’t admit the older daughter was a close friend. He pat Calli’s hand in a reassuring gesture. “Our bard here worries for many. Like our own friends and family: the refugees at Carowyn Manor, Sirius at Ridgefield, Nightingale’s parents at the cafe, and…” he almost mentioned Calli’s real parents. “and how do we know they’ll be safe?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t promise anything. I don’t have many loyal people left I can spare. One of my best undercover agents was killed in some sort of gang warfare the other night, and Captain Perith is guarding Davaulus and that twisted jester you brought in a secure location. I’ll have to turn the doctor over to Sabina soon for his supposed execution. I’ll look in when I can. But the queen has to be stopped. But I can’t do it alone. And I can’t ask the Guard to rise up against her. If they do, they’ll all be slaughtered before the day’s end. No, it’s up to you.” Her voice cracked, but she pushed forward, her eyes locking with theirs.
“Whatever dark magic she’s using, it’s more than anything I’ve ever seen. Endrin’s bolt… it should’ve killed her. It was a perfect shot. But she didn’t even flinch. She pulled the bolt out like it was nothing, as if she were made of iron. She’s…inhuman. I… I knew he was planning something drastic, but I had hoped he’d find another way.” Cressida’s hand tightened into a fist, her knuckles white with the force of it. “If only he’d waited. If only we could have done something else.”
She paused for a long moment, then sighed, the sound heavy with exhaustion.
“Then this morning, I received a letter. It was from Vencarlo Orisini. I hadn’t heard from him in weeks—ever since the Queen cut off Old Korvosa and sealed it off from the rest of the city. At first, I thought it was nothing, just another piece of desperation in a city full of it. But when I read it… I knew I was wrong.” Her eyes darkened.
“Vencarlo speaks of something vital about the queen—something dark, something infernal. He says she’s made a pact with some sort of devil. I didn’t want to believe it, not at first. It sounded like madness. But now… now I’m not so sure.”
Cressida leaned forward, her hands clasped together tightly.
“He’s asked for you specifically. He wants to meet with you. He’s still in Old Korvosa, waiting for you at his home.”
“His academy is gone, burned out.” Calli interjected.
“He didn’t live there, he’s got somewhere nearby. He says he has important information—something that could change everything. And it’s risky, but I think you’re the only ones who can get to him. You’ll be safe in Old Korvosa for now. The Queen’s quarantine has sealed it off completely, and word is, she plans to leave it to rot. If you keep your heads down and avoid her Grey Maidens, you should be able to slip through unnoticed.”
Her voice grew more urgent, more strained as she continued.
“But once you’ve found Vencarlo and returned with his information… you need to leave. I can’t keep you safe here. Korvosa’s no place for you anymore. If you stay, you’ll put everyone you care about at more risk. I’ll do what I can to protect the few remaining allies I have. But I can’t promise anything.”
Cressida stood abruptly, her movements sharp and frantic as if the weight of the city’s decay was closing in on her. She moved to the door, pausing for a moment.
“Go to Old Korvosa. Find Vencarlo. Hear what he has to say. I’ll keep in touch when I can, but until then… stay safe.”
She turned back to them, her eyes filled with a mixture of pain and resolve.
“The future of Korvosa, of all of us, is in your hands now. Please, don’t fail us.”
The room fell into a heavy silence as her words lingered in the air. The burden had shifted, and now it was theirs to bear.
As the two Flowers left Cressida’s chamber, she handed them a small bundle of supplies to aid their journey—four potions of cure serious wounds, three potions of lesser restoration, two potions of remove disease, and a wand of invisibility. She managed to smile at them in farewell, and wondered if this unlikely group who’d pulled through so many times before would be able to find another miracle.
——————————————————————
Getting through the streets had been easy as the twosome. The people of the city were on the lookout for the Grey Maidens, and the Maidens weren’t looking for an old priest and his helper. Calli and Taylan walked into the warehouse of death and had a brief panic, worried their friends might be among the fallen, until they got close enough to see none were fresh. When they finally made it into Gaedren’s inner sanctum the two men at the card table left up, ready to fight, chairs knocked over in the movement. Byron’s fists came up and he took a step towards them, but recognition was swift all around.
They filled the others in on everything Kroft had said. Eager to have a lead they could act on, most of the party wanted to seek out Orisini immediately. His knowledge about the Queen’s dark magic could be the key to turning the tide against her reign. But Byron’s face was tense, his eyes distant.
“We have to find Gina first,” he said, his voice low but insistent.
Calli turned to him, her tone measured but firm. “Byron, I get it. We all care about Gina. But Orisini has information that could save the whole city. If we waste time—”
“She could be in trouble right now!” Byron snapped, his voice cracking with emotion. “Every second we delay, she could be in pain.”
The group fell silent, his words hanging heavy in the air. Nightingale sighed and placed a hand on Byron’s shoulder. “We’re going to find her. But Eerie won’t have anything for us until tomorrow, anyway. Let’s go see what we can find between now and then.”
The debate carried on, but Byron’s desperation was unshakable. After several minutes of back-and-forth, he finally relented, though not without conditions. “Fine,” he said, his voice strained. “But at least let me speak to Eerie first, to let her know where we’re going in case we’re late getting back.”
The Flowers nodded, and together they made their way to the pub where they’d found Eerie Yelloweyes earlier in the day. Byron’s pace quickened as they neared, his hope rising with every step. But when they arrived, she was nowhere to be seen.
The atmosphere was tense, and when they asked if anyone saw which way Eerie had gone, they got more bad news. “She’s been taken,” the barman muttered.
Byron’s heart sunk. “Taken? By who?”
“The Grey Maidens,” another said. “They stormed in not long ago, dragged her off. No one knows why.”
Byron staggered back, his knees threatening to give out. His hands clenched into fists as the realisation struck him like a hammer. Without Eerie, without her maps and knowledge of the sewers, his chances of finding Gina were slim to none.
“No… no, this can’t be,” he whispered, his voice breaking. He turned to the others, his eyes pleading. “What do I do now? How do I—”
Calli stepped forward, her expression soft but resolute. “Byron… I know this is crushing. But we’ll find a way to save her. I promise we’ll all help. For now, the best thing we can do is stop the Queen. Through her we stop the Maidens. That’ll make it easier to get to her both because we’ll have Eerie back to guide us, and they won’t be guarding that area of the sewers anymore. Orisini might have the answers we need.”
For a long moment, Byron said nothing, his head bowed and his shoulders trembling. Fists clenching and unclenching repeatedly. Finally, he nodded, though his face was a mask of anguish. “Let’s go,” he said hoarsely. “But we’re coming back for her. For Gina. No matter what.”
The Flowers set off once more, their resolve unshaken but their hearts heavy, especially Byron’s. The weight of yet another delay from saving his friend pressed down on him with every step, but he forced himself to push forward. The fight wasn’t over—not yet.
