Delemental
First Post
“Marquis Mysterio.”
“Who?” Razael asked, looking up at Lanara.
“That’s who started the rumor,” she replied.
Razael rolled his eyes. “For Erito’s sake, do they all have such stupid names?”
“Was it a deliberate plant?” Shoshone said. The others in the room waited with interest for the cansin’s answer.
Lanara shook her head. “It’s a credibility thing in the profession.” Seeing curious looks, she continued. “Osborn would probably know this. The most important thing for a fortuneteller is credibility, that people believe you have the powers you say you do. In a circus or carnival, you just plant a few rubes in the crowd who swear that their fortunes came true. In a city, that doesn’t work so well – people would get suspicious seeing the same people touting the fortuneteller’s powers. Instead, they have sort of an informal network.”
“Like a guild?” Autumn asked.
“Nothing so organized. Most soothsayers don’t join guilds. They’d love to be members of the wizard’s guild, of course, but there’s no chance of that. The only guild that would take them would be the entertainer’s guild, and no fortuneteller is going to be caught dead being described as merely an ‘entertainer’.”
“So, how does this network operate?” Arrie asked.
“Simple. They figure that if once in a while they all start ‘predicting’ the same thing, it makes it look like they’re really getting some sort of message from the spirits. So, in any city there’s one or two in the profession who are informally recognized as the top man or woman. So, when word gets out that this person’s made some sort of grand prediction, everyone else jumps on the bandwagon.”
“So this Mysterio fellow is that guy in this town, eh?” Razael asked. “When do we kill him?”
“We don’t,” Shoshone said. “In case you haven’t noticed, Huntsman, we’re trying to reduce the murder rate in Vargas.”
“If you kill all the murderers, then the rate goes down,” Razael pointed out.
“Marquis Mysterio is not a murderer,” Shoshone countered. “He’s a man who is spreading an unfavorable rumor about his liege lord. And executing a man for sedition borders on tyranny. Nothing wrong with it if that’s your style, but Autumn wishes to rule in a more… amiable fashion.”
“I still say it would have been a better way to go about it,” Razael said. “But I’m not in charge.”
“And I thank the gods every day that is not the case.”
“My plan,” Lanara said, interrupting the exchange between the tracker and the tiefling, “is to go see this Mysterio and see what he knows.”
“Maybe we could bring him back here and question him,” Razael said. “Let Shoshone have a crack at him.”
“I’ve been awake for more than thirty hours,” Shoshone said wearily, “and I’m still having the information double-checked about the Black Hand. Perhaps tomorrow?”
“Good enough,” Lanara said. “I’ll take Razael with me tomorrow. We’ll pretend to be newlyweds looking for advice.”
“What’s that, lass?” Razael said. “I’m not sure about that.”
“Why not? What could you…” Lanara’s eyes widened, then narrowed as she realized what Razael’s objection was. “Oh, for Feesha’s sake, no! Please, you’re cute and all, but… no!”
“All right,” Autumn said, “tomorrow, then. Now, I need to meet with Captain Shirazal. I’m going to have him start organizing the populace into community watch patrols to help ease the burden on the regular Watch.”
Early the next day Razael and Lanara went to find Marquis Mysterio. The day before, Razael had gone to the sites of the other altered statues to look for tracks, and though he’d found traces of a bootprint with a similar pattern, the prints had been too old to follow. Before entering the Marquis’ business, Razael looked for the same bootprint without success.
Mysterio’s place was much larger and better appointed that LeFou’s, located more toward the center of the city. A young elven woman at a desk greeted Razael and Lanara inside the door.
“Good morning,” she said. “Do you have an appointment?”
“No,” Lanara said. “I wasn’t aware we needed one.”
“No, no, an appointment isn’t required,” the young girl said brightly. “But some of the Marquis’ patrons do like to schedule ahead.” The girl consulted an appointment ledger on the table. “The Marquis is consulting with someone now, but there’s no one scheduled after him. Please, have a seat.”
They waited for about five minutes, declining offers of tea or pastries. Razael stayed standing up, looking around the room for tracks.
“Is there something I can help you with?” the receptionist asked, after watching Razael slowly circling the room.
“No,” he replied flatly.
They continued to wait, with the receptionist making small talk. Lanara could tell the receptionist was trying to ferret out what they were here to ask about, no doubt to feed that information to Mysterio so he could amaze them with his ‘prescience’. Her efforts were passably effective, and Lanara allowed her to pick up a few ‘hints’. Soon a balding, middle-aged human man came out from the back, and a minute later the young elven woman asked them to step through the curtains.
They walked through to a room similar to the one Lanara had seen at LeFou’s. The décor here was a bit classier, however, and the burning incense not nearly as oppressive. The table was larger, and looked like it could accommodate several people for a séance. Lanara sat down at one of the chairs, while Razael remained standing. Lanara tried to converse further with Razael, dropping more hints that they were here to ask about Duke Kythrian, as she assumed that Mysterio was listening in on them now. For his part, Razael at least tried to play along, and almost kept the sarcasm from dripping off his tongue as he spoke.
A minute later, there was a sudden puff of colored smoke at the far end of the room, and when it cleared, a man was standing before them (both Razael and Lanara’s eyes, accustomed to looking for danger, had spotted him step from behind a curtain, but acted suitably impressed nonetheless). He was a tall, thin human, and relatively young, no more than thirty-five. He wore flashy, colorful clothes, better quality than what LeFou wore but still nothing to be seen in public wearing. He had a turban wrapped around his head, adorned with a large blue jewel.
“Welcome,” he said. “I am Marquis Mysterio. I sense that you are here to speak with the spirits. Perhaps you worry about the fate of our city under our new Duchess?”
“Yes, we are!” Lanara exclaimed. “We’ve been hearing such horrible things! Someone told us that they’d heard all about it from you first!”
“Indeed, I am often blessed with the earliest premonitions and warnings from the spirit world,” Mysterio said. “Among those who have passed beyond, I command a measure of respect.” Mysterio gestured toward Razael, then to an empty chair. “Please, sit down.”
Razael shook his head.
“He’s… a little funny about this,” Lanara said, smiling.
“I understand,” Mysterio said, smiling and bowing. “Dealing with the forces of the supernatural can be unnerving for some. By all means, remain where you are, though to be fair I should warn you that if you remain outside the circle of power,” Mysterio pointed to a circle painted on the floor in gold paint around the table, with squiggly runes running along the inside, “your ability to perceive the spirits will be diminished.”
“Sure, whatever,” Razael said, wanting to just put an arrow in the man’s eye.
Mysterio sat down opposite Lanara, and with a flourish produced a small brazier from a fold in his sleeve. He set it down in front of him, and lit the contents. Soon a light, citrus-scented smoke began to waft around the table.
“Let us begin,” he said.
The ceremony took several minutes. Lanara noted that Mysterio’s performance was far superior to LeFou’s; he had obviously invested in numerous props to enhance the experience. The crystal ball in the center of the table actually rose of its own accord, hovering in midair, and there was the occasional odd sound or flash of color. But as time wore on, Lanara suddenly began to realize that she was seeing and hearing things she couldn’t easily explain. These glimmers and whispers certainly seemed to be influenced by Mysterio’s commands. Maybe, just maybe, Lanara thought, this guy was for real. But that didn’t make sense – he was just a charlatan, a fake…
Razael, standing back from the table, had caught the scent of the incense, and it had triggered a memory. He’d spent the last few minutes trying to place it, all the time listening in on Mysterio’s spiel. The old elf had to give the guy credit for thinking fast on his feet; he was covering the obvious flaws in his story that what Lanara had described with the other old bat. But as the minutes wore on, Mysterio’s ‘channeling’ began to meander, going far afield on tangents before returning to the question of Kythrian’s anger toward Autumn. Occasionally he would just say something that made no sense at all. But it wasn’t until he noticed Lanara’s dazed expression, and how she was genuinely hanging on every word Mysterio said, that the memory connected with the current moment.
“Nava root,” he muttered. It was a rare mild hallucinogen, noted for making whoever used it more open to suggestion. Not addictive unless you were exposed to a lot of it. Razael crossed over next to where Mysterio sat, who by this time was lost in a near stupor. He picked up the brazier in front of the fortuneteller and pitched it off the table. It hit the wall with a loud clatter, sparks flying out of the container and singing the curtains. It took Mysterio a long time to react, but when he did, his first reaction was to fall out of his chair and try to start scooping the burning nava root back into the brazier.
Razael stepped over and grabbed Mysterio by the front of his robes, intending to question him while he was still fog-headed. But Lanara, now no longer breathing in the nava root fumes, was able to clear her senses enough to see the tracker menacing the fortuneteller. She just had the clarity to cast a spell, and Mysterio went rigid. Razael shook him a few times, then scowled.
“You know, when he’s like this, I can’t question him.”
The elf dropped Mysterio unceremoniously to the floor, and then began searching him and the room. He pulled a small vial out of one of Mysterio’s pockets and tossed it to Lanara.
“Drink that,” he said. “It kills the effects of the nava root.”
“He was burning nava root in there?” Lanara asked, after drinking the contents of the vial and feeling it take effect. “Qin-Chu’s toes, no wonder people think he’s the best.”
“Yeah, and he’s probably got the addiction to go with it. Probably kept the antidote on hand so he could drink it after each session, so’s he was clear enough to send his addled customers on their way. Most people think you can avoid nava root addiction by taking the antidote every time, but that’s hogwash.”
A search of the room, and Mysterio’s flat behind it, turned up nothing useful except parlor tricks and his fortune telling equipment. They couldn’t even find any more nava root. But Razael did spot something interesting; a boot print in the corner that matched the one he’d seen near the statues. They ended up wrapping Mysterio in a rug, and dropping him in the alley in back. Then Razael and Lanara walked out of the front, saying farewell to the receptionist on their way out, before looping around to pick up the rug. They then carried the rug up to the manor, and ended up depositing a delirious Mysterio in front of Shoshone.
“All yours,” Razael said.
“I’ll have him taken somewhere private to talk,” Shoshone said. “But first, I need to make sure Princess Ariadne is ready.”
“Ready for what?” Lanara asked.
“While you were gone, I decided to try and have the princess walk with one of our Imperial Guardsmen around the city, to see what kind of reaction they get. A calculated risk.”
“A risk that Herion would approve?” Lanara asked.
Shoshone smiled. “Probably not. But he’s not here, and Ariadne has agreed to the task. Besides, my orders are from the Emperor, and as you’ve no doubt heard, the princess’s welfare is below that of the city and the duchess as far as he is concerned.”
Arrie departed from the manor within the hour, accompanied by Guard Captain Imrahil. Arrie wore her adventuring gear and weaponry, and made sure that Imrahil understood that if there was trouble, he could assist, but not interfere. They walked along the Ring Court, the large road that ran just inside the city’s wall, stopping frequently to peruse local goods and try and listen in on local gossip. As was expected, crime was the biggest topic of conversation. Arrie was somewhat heartened to hear a few people comment about feeling safer in the streets, but those comments became fewer and farther between as they made their way south. A number of people were discussing the recent ‘portents’ of Duke Kythrian’s spirit being angry with Duchess Autumn, and the rumors that his spirit was bringing the statues to life. Many people discounted the tales as preposterous, but just as many seemed to take them to heart.
Arrie continued on her way, hoping she might find something useful. As they made their way toward the southwestern part of town, the number of people who recognized Arrie dwindled – or at least, if they did recognize her, they did a better job of not showing it. Imrahil began to walk closer to Arrie as they came into the rougher part of town, until he was nearly on top of her.
“Captain,” Arrie finally said, “if you get any closer to me, you’ll be inside my armor with me. And I don’t think I or my husband would appreciate that much.”
“My apologies, Highness,” he said, bowing and taking a step back. “Habit.”
They came upon an open plaza, where one of the city’s markets was held. The first thing that drew their attention was the large crowd that was gathered in the middle of the plaza, watching or listening to something instead of shopping. They were too far away to tell what it was, but the focal point of their attention was obvious; it was one of the statues of Kythrian.
“Let’s move in closer,” Arrie said. “See what’s going on. We’ll make our way up through the crowd.” She glanced at Imharil, who had his hand on the hilt of his courtblade. “Politely,” she added.
Arrie and Imrahil began to make their way through the crowd. At first there was little resistance, and most of the people on the outer edges were more curious than attentive, and most moved away after a few moments. Soon, Arrie could tell that they were listening to someone speaking. Closer in, the people were more persistent, but the sight of a heavily-armed woman next to an Imperial Guardsman persuaded most. They were most of the way through the crowd when Arrie finally saw the speaker.
He was a filthy, bedraggled man, standing up on the pedestal of the statue. He was shouting an incoherent diatribe against Duchess Autumn, exhorting the crowd to drag her out of her home and execute her. Most of his speech was rambling and laced with gross distortions. Looking around, Arrie could see that most of the crowd was listening more for amusement than out of agreement with his sentiments, though she spotted a few that were nodding as the man raved.
The man paused, and then picked up something off the ground. It was a nearly life-size rag doll, decorated in a gaudy party dress, with yellow yarn for hair. It was clearly meant to be an effigy of Autumn. The man picked up the rag doll and shook it violently, causing bits of yarn and straw to fall away, as he screamed nonsensical threats and promises of divine vengeance.
Just as Arrie was about to make her way out of the crowd, she caught a glimmer in the air around the man. As she watched, she saw the rag doll suddenly change, becoming a realistic portrayal of Autumn. It now looked like the insane man was shaking a limp Duchess around. All around her, people gasped as they saw the change take place as well.
The gasps turned to screams as the statue of Kythrian Vargex suddenly stepped forward and brought a pair of heavy stone fists down on the man’s shoulders. Blood sprayed into the crowd as both the man’s arms were torn out at the sockets, and he collapsed in a pool of gore.
Both Arrie and Imrahil drew their weapons as the crowd ran screaming. Imrahil tried to scan the crowd to spot anyone standing nearby who might be admiring their work, but the crowds were too thick. Arrie, meanwhile, kept a close eye on the statue, which was now standing protectively next to the limp rag doll, also scanning the area.
The statue, Arrie, and Imrahil remained motionless for a while, each seeming to wait for the other to make the first move. Then, a young man darted out of the crowd, and made an attempt to pull the insane man to safety. The statue whirled around, and raised its fists as if to strike. As Arrie began to step forward to protect the man, however, the statue paused, looked intently at the interloper, then looked again at the ‘Duchess’, which now looked like a rag doll again. As they all watched, the statue turned, stepped back onto the pedestal, and resumed its original pose.
Imrahil and Arrie approached warily as the young would-be rescuer ran off screaming. After a few moments, Arrie turned to Imrahil.
“We need someone who can sense magical auras,” she said.
“That would be Madrone,” he replied.
“Send for her.”
Imrahil turned and pointed at a bystander. “You, citizen!” he barked. “Come here!”
A trembling elf stepped forward. “You will go to the Ducal Manor,” Imrahil said. “You will ask for a woman named Madrone. Tell her what has happened, and that she needs to come here. Do this, and you will be suitably compensated.”
“Yes, sir!” he said, before dashing off.
A surprisingly short time later, Madrone arrived, along with Razael, Lanara, and Autumn, as well as the man Imrahil recruited. As the Guardsman paid the man, Arrie filled the others in on what had happened. By this time the city watch had come and was blocking off the area, keeping people from getting close. Maddie cast a spell, and looked around.
“Odd,” she said. “I see the traces of illusion on that effigy, but nothing on the statue.”
“Nothing?” Arrie said, “That is strange.”
“Would your spell detect the presence of something like a solar or pit fiend controlling the statue?” Razael asked.
“Probably not,” Maddie admitted. “Other spells would, but nothing I can use.”
“I’m going to look for tracks outside the immediate area,” Razael said, shouldering his bow and walking away.
Maddie knelt down next to the dead man. “Let me try and speak with him, see what ke knows.”
Maddie invoked the ceremony to speak with the dead, and after a few moments the man’s jaw began to move of its own accord, signaling that the spell had worked.
“What was behind your diatribe against the Duchess?” Maddie asked.
The man made a high-pitched noise from the back of his throat, and then words began spilling out in a jumble. “People! People told me to tell, to tell people, tell about Duchess. Tell the people, the people, yes yes yes! Everybody, Duchess bad!”
“Who told you to tell everyone the Duchess was bad?”
“Friend!” the man spat. “Friend, friend Malick, yes! Give me pretty doll, yes, tell people, yes yes!”
“If I wanted to talk to Malick, where could I find him?”
“Hmm,” the man said, and seemed to stop responding for a while before bursting out with “Southwest! Yes yes, southwest Malick find you, give you things. Give me things, find me, give me things to make voices go away, nasty voices!”
“Apparently,” Maddie said to the others, “Malick is his… doctor, so to speak. He gives him things to ‘make the voices go away’. But Malick always finds him, in the slums.”
“Where the other statues Shoshone saw were,” Autumn said. She found herself feeling almost naked without her armor on, especially since everyone else was properly attired. At least she’d had time to grab her greataxe.
“What does Malick look like?” Maddie asked the dead man.
“Small man, pointy ears,” he babbled. “Little points, little, not big points. Little, yes yes. Small man. Nose… nose gone. Half gone, bye bye. Gone away. Two-stick man, yes, yes.”
“What’s a ‘two-stick man?” Arrie asked.
“It’s underworld slang,” Lanara said. “it means someone who’s trained to use magical devices as a specialty. Comes from ‘rubbing two sticks together to make fire’, since they tend to use a lot of wands.”
“Little points on the ears,” Maddie said, “sounds like an elf-touched.”
“With half his nose missing,” Arrie added.
“I have one more question,” Maddie said. “Any suggestions?”
“Ask him why he came here,” Autumn said.
Maddie asked the question, and the man’s eyes rolled around in his head. “Like it here, yes yes. Nice people, give shiny coins and bread, bread bread. Like the muffins. Good market.”
Maddie shrugged as the man stopped moving again. There was a brief discussion about possible theories, until Razael came running up.
“I found some prints,” he said, “they match ones I’ve seen at the other statues. Someone who was standing nearby watching. I think I can follow them.”
“Let’s go,” Arrie said.
Razael was able to locate the tracks again, and began following them, the rest of the party close behind. It was difficult at first, with very few good prints left on the ground. But as they moved into less populated areas, Razael was able to find more prints. The trail led them southwest, toward the river. After a while, Razael noticed that the man leaving the tracks had started to move more cautiously, weaving around from hiding spot to hiding spot, as though taking precautions against pursuit. Razael was able to keep pace with him, though.
Eventually they arrived at a ramshackle storage building not far from the docks. There was no one around that they could see.
“Now what, Duchess?” Razael asked.
“We should come back,” she said. “We’re too obvious right now.”
“But by then the man might have escaped,” Razael said.
Yeah, if we come back, we’ll lose him,” Lanara agreed.
“It would seem, Your Grace,” Imrahil said, “that the time is now or never.”
Autumn sighed. “You’re right. Very well, let’s get inside quickly.”
Razael approached the door first, and found it locked. “Anyone got something to open doors with?” he asked.
When everyone shrugged, Autumn sighed, lifted up her skirts, and kicked the door in, sending wood flying everywhere. Lanara whistled as she smoothed her skirts down.
“Kyle’s going to be so upset he wasn’t here to see that,” she said.
Arrie had opened up her weapons case, and withdrew a new item for her collection; a huge, two-handed mace. She rushed in as soon as the door opened, followed quickly by Autumn, Imrahil, and Razael. Lanara went around to make sure no one was sneaking out the back, while Maddie and watched outside for surprises. The small structure was nearly bare, with a few tiny shelves on one wall and a crate the seemed to serve as a table.
Razael scanned the room. “The tracks go over here to the corner, and stop,” he said.
As they expected, a concealed trap door was found in the corner. “Anyone know how to find traps?” Razael asked.
“Open the door?” Maddie offered.
Razael thought for a moment. “Guardsman! Open the door!”
Once Imrahil had opened the trapdoor, they saw a metal ladder descended down into darkness.
“Does one of you have a spell that creates light?” Inrahil asked, peering down the hole.
“I do,” Lanara said.
Imrahil had Maddie cast the spell on a coin, and then he dropped it down the trapdoor shaft, giving him enough light to see the bottom. There were no signs of movement below.
“I’ll go first,” Razael said, “so I can pick up the tracks at the bottom.”
The ladder dropped Razael into a small chamber, with a single corridor leading out. The walls were rough-hewn stone, and slick with moisture from the nearby river. Razael moved into the tunnel as Imrahil and the others began to descend. The faint light from the enchanted coin the Guardsman had dropped gave Razael enough light to see a set of recent prints, with a familiar notch in the right sole.
“Follow me,” the tracker whispered to Imrahil, “Stay a few paces back. From the looks of these tracks, this guy doesn’t know he was followed.”
The corridor wound around through the earth, sometimes branching off. Razael was easily able to follow the tracks, and was even able to avoid a crossbow trap when he noticed that the prints shuffled around in one spot for no apparent reason. Finally, as he came around a corner, Razael started to hear voices from the passage beyond. Signaling for everyone to remain quiet, he crept forward.
The tunnel opened up into a larger room, lit with torches. On the far end of the room, a man was busying himself at a set of crude shelves, taking items out of his bag and putting them away. Nearby, four other people lounged around, sitting on rough chairs or standing. One of them was wearing a breastplate emblazoned with a hyena’s head – the totem animal of Shesh. Another was unarmored and had the look of a mage. The other two looked like street thugs.
“How’d it go, Malick?” the unarmored man asked the one by the shelves.
“Better than expected,” Malick said. As he spoke, he turned, and Razael could see that a large chunk of the man’s nose was bitten off. “Poor Roy left a suitable impression on the crowd with his demise. Best of all, the whole thing was seen by none other than the Imperial Princess herself.”
As Malick and the others in the room chuckled, Razael quietly slipped through the dark shadows cast under the torch sconces, until he was within arm’s reach of one of the thugs.
“I tell you, another week or two of this and they’ll be running her out of town,” Malick said gleefully.
“Run WHO out of town?” Razael said, standing up and hurling a flash pellet at the sorcerer.
Chaos erupted into the room. The party rushed in to engage Malick and his gang, who scrambled to defend themselves. The thug next to Razael tried to slash at him with a rapier, barely missing, while his counterpart whispered a command word that wreathed his weapon in flames. The mage blasted the incoming party with lightning, but the worst of it was mitigated by the dampness of the room, which drew off most of the bolt’s power. The priest tried to hit Autumn with an inflict serious wounds, but even without her armor Autumn was able to avoid the touch. Maddie stepped into the room and began to pronounce Erito’s doom on Malick’s men, causing them to shiver with the fear of divine retribution even as the favored soul’s allies were inspired by her words.
When Malick saw Autumn in the room, swinging her greataxe at the priest, he smiled. “You’ve made things so much easier, Duchess,” he shouted. He then held aloft a large gold ring. Those who could see Malick recognized the ring; Autumn was wearing an exact copy of it. The ring flashed for a moment, and then suddenly the hulking from of one of Kythrian’s statues appeared next to Malick.
“Guardian!” Malick shouted, pointing at Autumn, “Attack my enemies!”
The statue began to step forward toward Autumn. Instantly, Imrahil interposed himself in its path, courtblade gripped in both hands. But then the statue seemed to pause, looking at Autumn and the Guardsman. Autumn could almost swear the statue was confused. Distracted by the sight, Autumn left herself open, and the rogue with the flaming rapier sliced her arm.
The rogue only lived for a few seconds more, as Arrie stepped up and neatly decapitated him with her chain. “How about you don’t touch my sister?” she shouted.
Just then, one of Razael’s arrows struck Malick. As the rogue screamed in pain, the statue took a step backward, interposing itself between Razael and Malick to block his shots. Imrahil, seeing an opportunity, moved in closer to strike at the statue. Chips of stone flew away, but seemed to fill in again almost instantly. In response, the statue swung a fist at the Guardsman, crunching into bone. But the attack gave Razael another opening, and soon another one of his arrows was blossoming from Malick’s chest. Malick tried to dig through his belongings for a scroll or wand to help himself, but he’d put away most of the gear he was carrying. Thus he was left relatively defenseless, and the guardian statue could not be everywhere at once. Malick tried to flee out of another corridor, but a last shot from Razael felled him.
The rest of the opposition gave only a token resistance; the priest and sorcerer were killed in short order, and the last surviving thug surrendered. As Razael tied up the prisoner, the others cautiously approached the statue, which hadn’t moved since Malick dropped.
“Try and command it,” Arrie suggested to Autumn.
The sentinel slowly stepped forward. “Cease your attacks!” she shouted. “Take no hostile actions!”
The statue showed no sign that it had understood or even heard Autumn’s command. She looked at the others and shrugged.
“Try and get that ring,” Maddie suggested.
Autumn approached Malick’s still form. Slowly, she bent down and pulled the signet ring off his finger, pausing as it slid off to see if the statue reacted. Then she stood up, and slid the ring on her own finger.
The ring flashed, and Autumn closed her eyes as images suddenly flooded through her mind. She opened them in time to see her friends rushing to help her, and she held out a hand to stop them.
“It’s all right,” she said, and a small smile crossed her face. “I’m fine.”
The sentinel looked up at the statue, still motionless. “Guardian, stand down,” she said. The statue straightened up, bowed, and returned to the pose they’d seen in all the statues in town.
Autumn’s grin broadened as she met the curious stares of the others. “I think that Kythrian no longer disapproves of me.”
* * *
“So, Kythrian really did build all those statues?” Maddie asked.
Autumn nodded. “It took a while to find the records in archives, but apparently he left them as a defense for his heirs. He really did want to have them be able to walk in the city without guards, but have help close at hand. They’re not all guardians, though – only eight of them. The others are decoys.”
They were all sitting in the parlor at the ducal manor, the day after they’d killed Malick and ended his plot to disgrace Autumn by invoking ‘the spirit of Kythrian’. Autumn had ended up being escorted by the guardian-statue all the way back to the manor, with throngs of people watching – they’d been sure to return via very large, public streets. Seeing ‘Kythrian’ acting as an honor guard to Autumn had effectively quelled most lingering rumors of whether or not she was fit to rule. Shoshone’s propaganda machine had seen to the rest.
“But this Duke Parios, the one whose tomb we found just off Malick’s hideout, he had the ring buried with him?”
“Yes,” Shoshone said. “From what I gather from the archives, Duke Parios was…”
“A jerk?” Razael offered.
“Very. The decision not to bury him in the ducal crypts below the manor was made mere minutes after his death. But no one knew about the ring until now.”
“Well, I for one am glad for some good news in this city,” Arrie said. “Hopefully there aren’t any more lost artifacts out there waiting to cause trouble.”
“Yeah, now all we have to worry about is the rampant crime, the bureaucratic delays from the Emperor, and bringing back all the nobles and merchants,” Lanara said.
Arrie patted her sister reassuringly on the back, as Autumn groaned and buried her face in her hands. “One problem at a time, Autumn. One at a time.”
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For the curious, the statues of Kythrian were based off the Runic Guardians in MM2, with the original ducal singet ring as the control device. Unlike true Runic Guardians, the statues don't function outside the city of Vargas (so it's not cheap muscle for Autumn when she's out adventuring).
“Who?” Razael asked, looking up at Lanara.
“That’s who started the rumor,” she replied.
Razael rolled his eyes. “For Erito’s sake, do they all have such stupid names?”
“Was it a deliberate plant?” Shoshone said. The others in the room waited with interest for the cansin’s answer.
Lanara shook her head. “It’s a credibility thing in the profession.” Seeing curious looks, she continued. “Osborn would probably know this. The most important thing for a fortuneteller is credibility, that people believe you have the powers you say you do. In a circus or carnival, you just plant a few rubes in the crowd who swear that their fortunes came true. In a city, that doesn’t work so well – people would get suspicious seeing the same people touting the fortuneteller’s powers. Instead, they have sort of an informal network.”
“Like a guild?” Autumn asked.
“Nothing so organized. Most soothsayers don’t join guilds. They’d love to be members of the wizard’s guild, of course, but there’s no chance of that. The only guild that would take them would be the entertainer’s guild, and no fortuneteller is going to be caught dead being described as merely an ‘entertainer’.”
“So, how does this network operate?” Arrie asked.
“Simple. They figure that if once in a while they all start ‘predicting’ the same thing, it makes it look like they’re really getting some sort of message from the spirits. So, in any city there’s one or two in the profession who are informally recognized as the top man or woman. So, when word gets out that this person’s made some sort of grand prediction, everyone else jumps on the bandwagon.”
“So this Mysterio fellow is that guy in this town, eh?” Razael asked. “When do we kill him?”
“We don’t,” Shoshone said. “In case you haven’t noticed, Huntsman, we’re trying to reduce the murder rate in Vargas.”
“If you kill all the murderers, then the rate goes down,” Razael pointed out.
“Marquis Mysterio is not a murderer,” Shoshone countered. “He’s a man who is spreading an unfavorable rumor about his liege lord. And executing a man for sedition borders on tyranny. Nothing wrong with it if that’s your style, but Autumn wishes to rule in a more… amiable fashion.”
“I still say it would have been a better way to go about it,” Razael said. “But I’m not in charge.”
“And I thank the gods every day that is not the case.”
“My plan,” Lanara said, interrupting the exchange between the tracker and the tiefling, “is to go see this Mysterio and see what he knows.”
“Maybe we could bring him back here and question him,” Razael said. “Let Shoshone have a crack at him.”
“I’ve been awake for more than thirty hours,” Shoshone said wearily, “and I’m still having the information double-checked about the Black Hand. Perhaps tomorrow?”
“Good enough,” Lanara said. “I’ll take Razael with me tomorrow. We’ll pretend to be newlyweds looking for advice.”
“What’s that, lass?” Razael said. “I’m not sure about that.”
“Why not? What could you…” Lanara’s eyes widened, then narrowed as she realized what Razael’s objection was. “Oh, for Feesha’s sake, no! Please, you’re cute and all, but… no!”
“All right,” Autumn said, “tomorrow, then. Now, I need to meet with Captain Shirazal. I’m going to have him start organizing the populace into community watch patrols to help ease the burden on the regular Watch.”
Early the next day Razael and Lanara went to find Marquis Mysterio. The day before, Razael had gone to the sites of the other altered statues to look for tracks, and though he’d found traces of a bootprint with a similar pattern, the prints had been too old to follow. Before entering the Marquis’ business, Razael looked for the same bootprint without success.
Mysterio’s place was much larger and better appointed that LeFou’s, located more toward the center of the city. A young elven woman at a desk greeted Razael and Lanara inside the door.
“Good morning,” she said. “Do you have an appointment?”
“No,” Lanara said. “I wasn’t aware we needed one.”
“No, no, an appointment isn’t required,” the young girl said brightly. “But some of the Marquis’ patrons do like to schedule ahead.” The girl consulted an appointment ledger on the table. “The Marquis is consulting with someone now, but there’s no one scheduled after him. Please, have a seat.”
They waited for about five minutes, declining offers of tea or pastries. Razael stayed standing up, looking around the room for tracks.
“Is there something I can help you with?” the receptionist asked, after watching Razael slowly circling the room.
“No,” he replied flatly.
They continued to wait, with the receptionist making small talk. Lanara could tell the receptionist was trying to ferret out what they were here to ask about, no doubt to feed that information to Mysterio so he could amaze them with his ‘prescience’. Her efforts were passably effective, and Lanara allowed her to pick up a few ‘hints’. Soon a balding, middle-aged human man came out from the back, and a minute later the young elven woman asked them to step through the curtains.
They walked through to a room similar to the one Lanara had seen at LeFou’s. The décor here was a bit classier, however, and the burning incense not nearly as oppressive. The table was larger, and looked like it could accommodate several people for a séance. Lanara sat down at one of the chairs, while Razael remained standing. Lanara tried to converse further with Razael, dropping more hints that they were here to ask about Duke Kythrian, as she assumed that Mysterio was listening in on them now. For his part, Razael at least tried to play along, and almost kept the sarcasm from dripping off his tongue as he spoke.
A minute later, there was a sudden puff of colored smoke at the far end of the room, and when it cleared, a man was standing before them (both Razael and Lanara’s eyes, accustomed to looking for danger, had spotted him step from behind a curtain, but acted suitably impressed nonetheless). He was a tall, thin human, and relatively young, no more than thirty-five. He wore flashy, colorful clothes, better quality than what LeFou wore but still nothing to be seen in public wearing. He had a turban wrapped around his head, adorned with a large blue jewel.
“Welcome,” he said. “I am Marquis Mysterio. I sense that you are here to speak with the spirits. Perhaps you worry about the fate of our city under our new Duchess?”
“Yes, we are!” Lanara exclaimed. “We’ve been hearing such horrible things! Someone told us that they’d heard all about it from you first!”
“Indeed, I am often blessed with the earliest premonitions and warnings from the spirit world,” Mysterio said. “Among those who have passed beyond, I command a measure of respect.” Mysterio gestured toward Razael, then to an empty chair. “Please, sit down.”
Razael shook his head.
“He’s… a little funny about this,” Lanara said, smiling.
“I understand,” Mysterio said, smiling and bowing. “Dealing with the forces of the supernatural can be unnerving for some. By all means, remain where you are, though to be fair I should warn you that if you remain outside the circle of power,” Mysterio pointed to a circle painted on the floor in gold paint around the table, with squiggly runes running along the inside, “your ability to perceive the spirits will be diminished.”
“Sure, whatever,” Razael said, wanting to just put an arrow in the man’s eye.
Mysterio sat down opposite Lanara, and with a flourish produced a small brazier from a fold in his sleeve. He set it down in front of him, and lit the contents. Soon a light, citrus-scented smoke began to waft around the table.
“Let us begin,” he said.
The ceremony took several minutes. Lanara noted that Mysterio’s performance was far superior to LeFou’s; he had obviously invested in numerous props to enhance the experience. The crystal ball in the center of the table actually rose of its own accord, hovering in midair, and there was the occasional odd sound or flash of color. But as time wore on, Lanara suddenly began to realize that she was seeing and hearing things she couldn’t easily explain. These glimmers and whispers certainly seemed to be influenced by Mysterio’s commands. Maybe, just maybe, Lanara thought, this guy was for real. But that didn’t make sense – he was just a charlatan, a fake…
Razael, standing back from the table, had caught the scent of the incense, and it had triggered a memory. He’d spent the last few minutes trying to place it, all the time listening in on Mysterio’s spiel. The old elf had to give the guy credit for thinking fast on his feet; he was covering the obvious flaws in his story that what Lanara had described with the other old bat. But as the minutes wore on, Mysterio’s ‘channeling’ began to meander, going far afield on tangents before returning to the question of Kythrian’s anger toward Autumn. Occasionally he would just say something that made no sense at all. But it wasn’t until he noticed Lanara’s dazed expression, and how she was genuinely hanging on every word Mysterio said, that the memory connected with the current moment.
“Nava root,” he muttered. It was a rare mild hallucinogen, noted for making whoever used it more open to suggestion. Not addictive unless you were exposed to a lot of it. Razael crossed over next to where Mysterio sat, who by this time was lost in a near stupor. He picked up the brazier in front of the fortuneteller and pitched it off the table. It hit the wall with a loud clatter, sparks flying out of the container and singing the curtains. It took Mysterio a long time to react, but when he did, his first reaction was to fall out of his chair and try to start scooping the burning nava root back into the brazier.
Razael stepped over and grabbed Mysterio by the front of his robes, intending to question him while he was still fog-headed. But Lanara, now no longer breathing in the nava root fumes, was able to clear her senses enough to see the tracker menacing the fortuneteller. She just had the clarity to cast a spell, and Mysterio went rigid. Razael shook him a few times, then scowled.
“You know, when he’s like this, I can’t question him.”
The elf dropped Mysterio unceremoniously to the floor, and then began searching him and the room. He pulled a small vial out of one of Mysterio’s pockets and tossed it to Lanara.
“Drink that,” he said. “It kills the effects of the nava root.”
“He was burning nava root in there?” Lanara asked, after drinking the contents of the vial and feeling it take effect. “Qin-Chu’s toes, no wonder people think he’s the best.”
“Yeah, and he’s probably got the addiction to go with it. Probably kept the antidote on hand so he could drink it after each session, so’s he was clear enough to send his addled customers on their way. Most people think you can avoid nava root addiction by taking the antidote every time, but that’s hogwash.”
A search of the room, and Mysterio’s flat behind it, turned up nothing useful except parlor tricks and his fortune telling equipment. They couldn’t even find any more nava root. But Razael did spot something interesting; a boot print in the corner that matched the one he’d seen near the statues. They ended up wrapping Mysterio in a rug, and dropping him in the alley in back. Then Razael and Lanara walked out of the front, saying farewell to the receptionist on their way out, before looping around to pick up the rug. They then carried the rug up to the manor, and ended up depositing a delirious Mysterio in front of Shoshone.
“All yours,” Razael said.
“I’ll have him taken somewhere private to talk,” Shoshone said. “But first, I need to make sure Princess Ariadne is ready.”
“Ready for what?” Lanara asked.
“While you were gone, I decided to try and have the princess walk with one of our Imperial Guardsmen around the city, to see what kind of reaction they get. A calculated risk.”
“A risk that Herion would approve?” Lanara asked.
Shoshone smiled. “Probably not. But he’s not here, and Ariadne has agreed to the task. Besides, my orders are from the Emperor, and as you’ve no doubt heard, the princess’s welfare is below that of the city and the duchess as far as he is concerned.”
Arrie departed from the manor within the hour, accompanied by Guard Captain Imrahil. Arrie wore her adventuring gear and weaponry, and made sure that Imrahil understood that if there was trouble, he could assist, but not interfere. They walked along the Ring Court, the large road that ran just inside the city’s wall, stopping frequently to peruse local goods and try and listen in on local gossip. As was expected, crime was the biggest topic of conversation. Arrie was somewhat heartened to hear a few people comment about feeling safer in the streets, but those comments became fewer and farther between as they made their way south. A number of people were discussing the recent ‘portents’ of Duke Kythrian’s spirit being angry with Duchess Autumn, and the rumors that his spirit was bringing the statues to life. Many people discounted the tales as preposterous, but just as many seemed to take them to heart.
Arrie continued on her way, hoping she might find something useful. As they made their way toward the southwestern part of town, the number of people who recognized Arrie dwindled – or at least, if they did recognize her, they did a better job of not showing it. Imrahil began to walk closer to Arrie as they came into the rougher part of town, until he was nearly on top of her.
“Captain,” Arrie finally said, “if you get any closer to me, you’ll be inside my armor with me. And I don’t think I or my husband would appreciate that much.”
“My apologies, Highness,” he said, bowing and taking a step back. “Habit.”
They came upon an open plaza, where one of the city’s markets was held. The first thing that drew their attention was the large crowd that was gathered in the middle of the plaza, watching or listening to something instead of shopping. They were too far away to tell what it was, but the focal point of their attention was obvious; it was one of the statues of Kythrian.
“Let’s move in closer,” Arrie said. “See what’s going on. We’ll make our way up through the crowd.” She glanced at Imharil, who had his hand on the hilt of his courtblade. “Politely,” she added.
Arrie and Imrahil began to make their way through the crowd. At first there was little resistance, and most of the people on the outer edges were more curious than attentive, and most moved away after a few moments. Soon, Arrie could tell that they were listening to someone speaking. Closer in, the people were more persistent, but the sight of a heavily-armed woman next to an Imperial Guardsman persuaded most. They were most of the way through the crowd when Arrie finally saw the speaker.
He was a filthy, bedraggled man, standing up on the pedestal of the statue. He was shouting an incoherent diatribe against Duchess Autumn, exhorting the crowd to drag her out of her home and execute her. Most of his speech was rambling and laced with gross distortions. Looking around, Arrie could see that most of the crowd was listening more for amusement than out of agreement with his sentiments, though she spotted a few that were nodding as the man raved.
The man paused, and then picked up something off the ground. It was a nearly life-size rag doll, decorated in a gaudy party dress, with yellow yarn for hair. It was clearly meant to be an effigy of Autumn. The man picked up the rag doll and shook it violently, causing bits of yarn and straw to fall away, as he screamed nonsensical threats and promises of divine vengeance.
Just as Arrie was about to make her way out of the crowd, she caught a glimmer in the air around the man. As she watched, she saw the rag doll suddenly change, becoming a realistic portrayal of Autumn. It now looked like the insane man was shaking a limp Duchess around. All around her, people gasped as they saw the change take place as well.
The gasps turned to screams as the statue of Kythrian Vargex suddenly stepped forward and brought a pair of heavy stone fists down on the man’s shoulders. Blood sprayed into the crowd as both the man’s arms were torn out at the sockets, and he collapsed in a pool of gore.
Both Arrie and Imrahil drew their weapons as the crowd ran screaming. Imrahil tried to scan the crowd to spot anyone standing nearby who might be admiring their work, but the crowds were too thick. Arrie, meanwhile, kept a close eye on the statue, which was now standing protectively next to the limp rag doll, also scanning the area.
The statue, Arrie, and Imrahil remained motionless for a while, each seeming to wait for the other to make the first move. Then, a young man darted out of the crowd, and made an attempt to pull the insane man to safety. The statue whirled around, and raised its fists as if to strike. As Arrie began to step forward to protect the man, however, the statue paused, looked intently at the interloper, then looked again at the ‘Duchess’, which now looked like a rag doll again. As they all watched, the statue turned, stepped back onto the pedestal, and resumed its original pose.
Imrahil and Arrie approached warily as the young would-be rescuer ran off screaming. After a few moments, Arrie turned to Imrahil.
“We need someone who can sense magical auras,” she said.
“That would be Madrone,” he replied.
“Send for her.”
Imrahil turned and pointed at a bystander. “You, citizen!” he barked. “Come here!”
A trembling elf stepped forward. “You will go to the Ducal Manor,” Imrahil said. “You will ask for a woman named Madrone. Tell her what has happened, and that she needs to come here. Do this, and you will be suitably compensated.”
“Yes, sir!” he said, before dashing off.
A surprisingly short time later, Madrone arrived, along with Razael, Lanara, and Autumn, as well as the man Imrahil recruited. As the Guardsman paid the man, Arrie filled the others in on what had happened. By this time the city watch had come and was blocking off the area, keeping people from getting close. Maddie cast a spell, and looked around.
“Odd,” she said. “I see the traces of illusion on that effigy, but nothing on the statue.”
“Nothing?” Arrie said, “That is strange.”
“Would your spell detect the presence of something like a solar or pit fiend controlling the statue?” Razael asked.
“Probably not,” Maddie admitted. “Other spells would, but nothing I can use.”
“I’m going to look for tracks outside the immediate area,” Razael said, shouldering his bow and walking away.
Maddie knelt down next to the dead man. “Let me try and speak with him, see what ke knows.”
Maddie invoked the ceremony to speak with the dead, and after a few moments the man’s jaw began to move of its own accord, signaling that the spell had worked.
“What was behind your diatribe against the Duchess?” Maddie asked.
The man made a high-pitched noise from the back of his throat, and then words began spilling out in a jumble. “People! People told me to tell, to tell people, tell about Duchess. Tell the people, the people, yes yes yes! Everybody, Duchess bad!”
“Who told you to tell everyone the Duchess was bad?”
“Friend!” the man spat. “Friend, friend Malick, yes! Give me pretty doll, yes, tell people, yes yes!”
“If I wanted to talk to Malick, where could I find him?”
“Hmm,” the man said, and seemed to stop responding for a while before bursting out with “Southwest! Yes yes, southwest Malick find you, give you things. Give me things, find me, give me things to make voices go away, nasty voices!”
“Apparently,” Maddie said to the others, “Malick is his… doctor, so to speak. He gives him things to ‘make the voices go away’. But Malick always finds him, in the slums.”
“Where the other statues Shoshone saw were,” Autumn said. She found herself feeling almost naked without her armor on, especially since everyone else was properly attired. At least she’d had time to grab her greataxe.
“What does Malick look like?” Maddie asked the dead man.
“Small man, pointy ears,” he babbled. “Little points, little, not big points. Little, yes yes. Small man. Nose… nose gone. Half gone, bye bye. Gone away. Two-stick man, yes, yes.”
“What’s a ‘two-stick man?” Arrie asked.
“It’s underworld slang,” Lanara said. “it means someone who’s trained to use magical devices as a specialty. Comes from ‘rubbing two sticks together to make fire’, since they tend to use a lot of wands.”
“Little points on the ears,” Maddie said, “sounds like an elf-touched.”
“With half his nose missing,” Arrie added.
“I have one more question,” Maddie said. “Any suggestions?”
“Ask him why he came here,” Autumn said.
Maddie asked the question, and the man’s eyes rolled around in his head. “Like it here, yes yes. Nice people, give shiny coins and bread, bread bread. Like the muffins. Good market.”
Maddie shrugged as the man stopped moving again. There was a brief discussion about possible theories, until Razael came running up.
“I found some prints,” he said, “they match ones I’ve seen at the other statues. Someone who was standing nearby watching. I think I can follow them.”
“Let’s go,” Arrie said.
Razael was able to locate the tracks again, and began following them, the rest of the party close behind. It was difficult at first, with very few good prints left on the ground. But as they moved into less populated areas, Razael was able to find more prints. The trail led them southwest, toward the river. After a while, Razael noticed that the man leaving the tracks had started to move more cautiously, weaving around from hiding spot to hiding spot, as though taking precautions against pursuit. Razael was able to keep pace with him, though.
Eventually they arrived at a ramshackle storage building not far from the docks. There was no one around that they could see.
“Now what, Duchess?” Razael asked.
“We should come back,” she said. “We’re too obvious right now.”
“But by then the man might have escaped,” Razael said.
Yeah, if we come back, we’ll lose him,” Lanara agreed.
“It would seem, Your Grace,” Imrahil said, “that the time is now or never.”
Autumn sighed. “You’re right. Very well, let’s get inside quickly.”
Razael approached the door first, and found it locked. “Anyone got something to open doors with?” he asked.
When everyone shrugged, Autumn sighed, lifted up her skirts, and kicked the door in, sending wood flying everywhere. Lanara whistled as she smoothed her skirts down.
“Kyle’s going to be so upset he wasn’t here to see that,” she said.
Arrie had opened up her weapons case, and withdrew a new item for her collection; a huge, two-handed mace. She rushed in as soon as the door opened, followed quickly by Autumn, Imrahil, and Razael. Lanara went around to make sure no one was sneaking out the back, while Maddie and watched outside for surprises. The small structure was nearly bare, with a few tiny shelves on one wall and a crate the seemed to serve as a table.
Razael scanned the room. “The tracks go over here to the corner, and stop,” he said.
As they expected, a concealed trap door was found in the corner. “Anyone know how to find traps?” Razael asked.
“Open the door?” Maddie offered.
Razael thought for a moment. “Guardsman! Open the door!”
Once Imrahil had opened the trapdoor, they saw a metal ladder descended down into darkness.
“Does one of you have a spell that creates light?” Inrahil asked, peering down the hole.
“I do,” Lanara said.
Imrahil had Maddie cast the spell on a coin, and then he dropped it down the trapdoor shaft, giving him enough light to see the bottom. There were no signs of movement below.
“I’ll go first,” Razael said, “so I can pick up the tracks at the bottom.”
The ladder dropped Razael into a small chamber, with a single corridor leading out. The walls were rough-hewn stone, and slick with moisture from the nearby river. Razael moved into the tunnel as Imrahil and the others began to descend. The faint light from the enchanted coin the Guardsman had dropped gave Razael enough light to see a set of recent prints, with a familiar notch in the right sole.
“Follow me,” the tracker whispered to Imrahil, “Stay a few paces back. From the looks of these tracks, this guy doesn’t know he was followed.”
The corridor wound around through the earth, sometimes branching off. Razael was easily able to follow the tracks, and was even able to avoid a crossbow trap when he noticed that the prints shuffled around in one spot for no apparent reason. Finally, as he came around a corner, Razael started to hear voices from the passage beyond. Signaling for everyone to remain quiet, he crept forward.
The tunnel opened up into a larger room, lit with torches. On the far end of the room, a man was busying himself at a set of crude shelves, taking items out of his bag and putting them away. Nearby, four other people lounged around, sitting on rough chairs or standing. One of them was wearing a breastplate emblazoned with a hyena’s head – the totem animal of Shesh. Another was unarmored and had the look of a mage. The other two looked like street thugs.
“How’d it go, Malick?” the unarmored man asked the one by the shelves.
“Better than expected,” Malick said. As he spoke, he turned, and Razael could see that a large chunk of the man’s nose was bitten off. “Poor Roy left a suitable impression on the crowd with his demise. Best of all, the whole thing was seen by none other than the Imperial Princess herself.”
As Malick and the others in the room chuckled, Razael quietly slipped through the dark shadows cast under the torch sconces, until he was within arm’s reach of one of the thugs.
“I tell you, another week or two of this and they’ll be running her out of town,” Malick said gleefully.
“Run WHO out of town?” Razael said, standing up and hurling a flash pellet at the sorcerer.
Chaos erupted into the room. The party rushed in to engage Malick and his gang, who scrambled to defend themselves. The thug next to Razael tried to slash at him with a rapier, barely missing, while his counterpart whispered a command word that wreathed his weapon in flames. The mage blasted the incoming party with lightning, but the worst of it was mitigated by the dampness of the room, which drew off most of the bolt’s power. The priest tried to hit Autumn with an inflict serious wounds, but even without her armor Autumn was able to avoid the touch. Maddie stepped into the room and began to pronounce Erito’s doom on Malick’s men, causing them to shiver with the fear of divine retribution even as the favored soul’s allies were inspired by her words.
When Malick saw Autumn in the room, swinging her greataxe at the priest, he smiled. “You’ve made things so much easier, Duchess,” he shouted. He then held aloft a large gold ring. Those who could see Malick recognized the ring; Autumn was wearing an exact copy of it. The ring flashed for a moment, and then suddenly the hulking from of one of Kythrian’s statues appeared next to Malick.
“Guardian!” Malick shouted, pointing at Autumn, “Attack my enemies!”
The statue began to step forward toward Autumn. Instantly, Imrahil interposed himself in its path, courtblade gripped in both hands. But then the statue seemed to pause, looking at Autumn and the Guardsman. Autumn could almost swear the statue was confused. Distracted by the sight, Autumn left herself open, and the rogue with the flaming rapier sliced her arm.
The rogue only lived for a few seconds more, as Arrie stepped up and neatly decapitated him with her chain. “How about you don’t touch my sister?” she shouted.
Just then, one of Razael’s arrows struck Malick. As the rogue screamed in pain, the statue took a step backward, interposing itself between Razael and Malick to block his shots. Imrahil, seeing an opportunity, moved in closer to strike at the statue. Chips of stone flew away, but seemed to fill in again almost instantly. In response, the statue swung a fist at the Guardsman, crunching into bone. But the attack gave Razael another opening, and soon another one of his arrows was blossoming from Malick’s chest. Malick tried to dig through his belongings for a scroll or wand to help himself, but he’d put away most of the gear he was carrying. Thus he was left relatively defenseless, and the guardian statue could not be everywhere at once. Malick tried to flee out of another corridor, but a last shot from Razael felled him.
The rest of the opposition gave only a token resistance; the priest and sorcerer were killed in short order, and the last surviving thug surrendered. As Razael tied up the prisoner, the others cautiously approached the statue, which hadn’t moved since Malick dropped.
“Try and command it,” Arrie suggested to Autumn.
The sentinel slowly stepped forward. “Cease your attacks!” she shouted. “Take no hostile actions!”
The statue showed no sign that it had understood or even heard Autumn’s command. She looked at the others and shrugged.
“Try and get that ring,” Maddie suggested.
Autumn approached Malick’s still form. Slowly, she bent down and pulled the signet ring off his finger, pausing as it slid off to see if the statue reacted. Then she stood up, and slid the ring on her own finger.
The ring flashed, and Autumn closed her eyes as images suddenly flooded through her mind. She opened them in time to see her friends rushing to help her, and she held out a hand to stop them.
“It’s all right,” she said, and a small smile crossed her face. “I’m fine.”
The sentinel looked up at the statue, still motionless. “Guardian, stand down,” she said. The statue straightened up, bowed, and returned to the pose they’d seen in all the statues in town.
Autumn’s grin broadened as she met the curious stares of the others. “I think that Kythrian no longer disapproves of me.”
* * *
“So, Kythrian really did build all those statues?” Maddie asked.
Autumn nodded. “It took a while to find the records in archives, but apparently he left them as a defense for his heirs. He really did want to have them be able to walk in the city without guards, but have help close at hand. They’re not all guardians, though – only eight of them. The others are decoys.”
They were all sitting in the parlor at the ducal manor, the day after they’d killed Malick and ended his plot to disgrace Autumn by invoking ‘the spirit of Kythrian’. Autumn had ended up being escorted by the guardian-statue all the way back to the manor, with throngs of people watching – they’d been sure to return via very large, public streets. Seeing ‘Kythrian’ acting as an honor guard to Autumn had effectively quelled most lingering rumors of whether or not she was fit to rule. Shoshone’s propaganda machine had seen to the rest.
“But this Duke Parios, the one whose tomb we found just off Malick’s hideout, he had the ring buried with him?”
“Yes,” Shoshone said. “From what I gather from the archives, Duke Parios was…”
“A jerk?” Razael offered.
“Very. The decision not to bury him in the ducal crypts below the manor was made mere minutes after his death. But no one knew about the ring until now.”
“Well, I for one am glad for some good news in this city,” Arrie said. “Hopefully there aren’t any more lost artifacts out there waiting to cause trouble.”
“Yeah, now all we have to worry about is the rampant crime, the bureaucratic delays from the Emperor, and bringing back all the nobles and merchants,” Lanara said.
Arrie patted her sister reassuringly on the back, as Autumn groaned and buried her face in her hands. “One problem at a time, Autumn. One at a time.”
------------------------
For the curious, the statues of Kythrian were based off the Runic Guardians in MM2, with the original ducal singet ring as the control device. Unlike true Runic Guardians, the statues don't function outside the city of Vargas (so it's not cheap muscle for Autumn when she's out adventuring).
