Orichalcum
First Post
Alea Iacta XI: Romantic Comedy Chp. IX: A new Tangle
"Otho?" Cornelia says, as we gather again. "What does Otho have to do with this? I thought he was just a spendthrift merchant!"
"Well," Marcus reflects, "We have been wondering where he got all his money from. Maybe it's time to investigate that."
"First, we talk to Publicola," Lucretius interrupts. "We have enough evidence now of the false nature of his earlier lawsuit that we ought to be able to get him to drop charges against Cornelia. And that will prevent Meloch from being tortured tomorrow night."
Everyone agrees, and retires to bed. The next morning, we set out in force for the Forum to find Publicola - Meloch having turned himself and me invisible, as a precaution. He's easy to find - he's standing between the statues of Castor and Pollux, wearing not a toga but a gleaming, intricately wrought breastplate and shining silver greaves. A red-feathered gold-inlaid helmet covers most of Publicola's features, but a number of boils and unsightly freckles are still visible on his nose and cheekbones. Heilyn grimaces, "That's the Master of Naxos' work! I'd recognize it anywhere! That's a part of his ill-gotten gains!"
"Nice breastplate," Marcus, no smith, but well used to evaluating armor, comments. "Although it's rather offensive to be strutting around in armor when you've never done military service."
Meloch casts Detect Magic and whispers to Cornelia that it has some sort of protective magic on it, although not enchantment.
They wait for Publicola to finish his speech, which draws much less of a crowd than previous ones - he seems somehow to have lost his flair. Then, as a group, they approach him.
"Gnaeus Tertius Publicola," Metellus intones, "I'd like to speak to you privately for a few minutes. Why don't we step inside the temple of Castor and Pollux?"
"All right, but you can't bring all your bully boys," Publicola says nervously. Metellus nods curtly and gestures for Heilyn, Llyr, and Marcus to wait outside, ushering Cornelia, Lucretius, and the invisible Meloch inside.
"What's this about? You know you have to turn over your thieving pygmy by this evening, and the slaves of your sluttish mother," Publicola sneers to Cornelia.
"Actually, that's not exactly what we're here to talk about," Metellus interrupts, before Lucretius can lose his temper defending the dubious honor of Cornelia's mother. "We have evidence that you knowingly perpetrated a fraudulent lawsuit, and, indeed, failed to prevent a crime that you knew was going to happen. I don't think the voters would like to hear that, do you?"
Publicola blanches and stutters. "What do you mean?"
Lucretius pulls out several scrolls and proceeds to bluff rather heavily, using the most official and intimidating voice of the Praetorian Guard. "We have affidavits that, in the case of the lawsuit against the Master of Naxos for a dangerous explosion, little damage and no injury was in fact caused to the smiths whom you so profitably represented. Furthermore, as this was not in fact an accident caused by the reckless negligence of the Naxian, but rather a deliberate assault, the Naxian was not to blame for damages, and we have evidence that you knew this from the beginning. Nevertheless, you chose to profit by sueing an innocent victim and depriving him of his livelihood, thereby obtaining a handsome profit, including, I suspect, that breastplate and helmet."
Publicola begins sweating like mad, and panics. [GM's note: Heilyn's curse had reduced him to a Cha of 8 and a Wis of 6, and then he got a 4 on Sense Motive.] For a moment, he looks like he's about to run, and Meloch and I get ready to trip him in the doorway, but then he sees Heilyn and Marcus and Llyr, prominently lurking just outside the only entrance, and his shoulders sag.
"Surely we can work out some sort of deal here?" he offers feebly.
Metellus smiles grimly. "Begin by dropping the charges against the Domina Cornelia. Give back your profits from the case to the Master of Naxos. Then tell us exactly how you found out about the planned explosion. If you do that, I won't force you to drop out of the race."
"All right, of course," Publicola says quickly. "I'll tell the judge that I just misplaced the toga - it was all a misunderstanding. As for the other...well, my friend Otho knew I was looking for high-profit cases to raise money for campaigning; we've agreed to support each other in the election, you see. And he mentioned he had heard about this one, and how good it would be to get in promptly immediately after the incident. He said the smith was an enemy of the gods, anyway, and I'd just be doing Roma a favor by bankrupting him."
"What else can you tell us about Otho? How is he getting his money?" Cornelia asked, still angry.
"Oh, he's got a great scheme set up. He's laundering real estate for a group of Celts," Publicola blurts out.
"Celts???" everyone says, in shock and horror, loudly enough that the real Celts outside hear them.
"Yes...some widows and orphans who had a lot of villas and apartment buildings they couldn't legally sell, for some reason. He's been helping them out through his contacts with the building inspectors and managers, since that was his job last year- he takes part of the profits, and the families get the rest of the cash."
We take a minute and remember the old Celtic Liberation Organization plot, which involved setting fires to a large number of private buldings arranged in a ritual spiral all around Roma, centered on the Temple of the Vestals. Admittedly, none of us had ever thought to investigate what happened to those buildings.
"Do you know where the Celts are now?" Lucretius asks.
"Well..." Publicola hesitates.
Cornelia doesn't, and casts Suggestion. "Tell us, now, or we'll ruin your reputation forever."
"Otho goes to meet them at night in the Coliseum. I think they might be hiding out in the tunnels underneath it. Now that it's chariot racing season, there aren't any wild beast or gladiatoral games at the moment."
"Don't speak of this to anyone," Lucretius warns, and turns to leave.
"Don't worry!" Publicola says. "Can we just forget any of this ever happened?"
"For now," Metellus threatens, and strides out, the rest following.
"Otho?" Cornelia says, as we gather again. "What does Otho have to do with this? I thought he was just a spendthrift merchant!"
"Well," Marcus reflects, "We have been wondering where he got all his money from. Maybe it's time to investigate that."
"First, we talk to Publicola," Lucretius interrupts. "We have enough evidence now of the false nature of his earlier lawsuit that we ought to be able to get him to drop charges against Cornelia. And that will prevent Meloch from being tortured tomorrow night."
Everyone agrees, and retires to bed. The next morning, we set out in force for the Forum to find Publicola - Meloch having turned himself and me invisible, as a precaution. He's easy to find - he's standing between the statues of Castor and Pollux, wearing not a toga but a gleaming, intricately wrought breastplate and shining silver greaves. A red-feathered gold-inlaid helmet covers most of Publicola's features, but a number of boils and unsightly freckles are still visible on his nose and cheekbones. Heilyn grimaces, "That's the Master of Naxos' work! I'd recognize it anywhere! That's a part of his ill-gotten gains!"
"Nice breastplate," Marcus, no smith, but well used to evaluating armor, comments. "Although it's rather offensive to be strutting around in armor when you've never done military service."
Meloch casts Detect Magic and whispers to Cornelia that it has some sort of protective magic on it, although not enchantment.
They wait for Publicola to finish his speech, which draws much less of a crowd than previous ones - he seems somehow to have lost his flair. Then, as a group, they approach him.
"Gnaeus Tertius Publicola," Metellus intones, "I'd like to speak to you privately for a few minutes. Why don't we step inside the temple of Castor and Pollux?"
"All right, but you can't bring all your bully boys," Publicola says nervously. Metellus nods curtly and gestures for Heilyn, Llyr, and Marcus to wait outside, ushering Cornelia, Lucretius, and the invisible Meloch inside.
"What's this about? You know you have to turn over your thieving pygmy by this evening, and the slaves of your sluttish mother," Publicola sneers to Cornelia.
"Actually, that's not exactly what we're here to talk about," Metellus interrupts, before Lucretius can lose his temper defending the dubious honor of Cornelia's mother. "We have evidence that you knowingly perpetrated a fraudulent lawsuit, and, indeed, failed to prevent a crime that you knew was going to happen. I don't think the voters would like to hear that, do you?"
Publicola blanches and stutters. "What do you mean?"
Lucretius pulls out several scrolls and proceeds to bluff rather heavily, using the most official and intimidating voice of the Praetorian Guard. "We have affidavits that, in the case of the lawsuit against the Master of Naxos for a dangerous explosion, little damage and no injury was in fact caused to the smiths whom you so profitably represented. Furthermore, as this was not in fact an accident caused by the reckless negligence of the Naxian, but rather a deliberate assault, the Naxian was not to blame for damages, and we have evidence that you knew this from the beginning. Nevertheless, you chose to profit by sueing an innocent victim and depriving him of his livelihood, thereby obtaining a handsome profit, including, I suspect, that breastplate and helmet."
Publicola begins sweating like mad, and panics. [GM's note: Heilyn's curse had reduced him to a Cha of 8 and a Wis of 6, and then he got a 4 on Sense Motive.] For a moment, he looks like he's about to run, and Meloch and I get ready to trip him in the doorway, but then he sees Heilyn and Marcus and Llyr, prominently lurking just outside the only entrance, and his shoulders sag.
"Surely we can work out some sort of deal here?" he offers feebly.
Metellus smiles grimly. "Begin by dropping the charges against the Domina Cornelia. Give back your profits from the case to the Master of Naxos. Then tell us exactly how you found out about the planned explosion. If you do that, I won't force you to drop out of the race."
"All right, of course," Publicola says quickly. "I'll tell the judge that I just misplaced the toga - it was all a misunderstanding. As for the other...well, my friend Otho knew I was looking for high-profit cases to raise money for campaigning; we've agreed to support each other in the election, you see. And he mentioned he had heard about this one, and how good it would be to get in promptly immediately after the incident. He said the smith was an enemy of the gods, anyway, and I'd just be doing Roma a favor by bankrupting him."
"What else can you tell us about Otho? How is he getting his money?" Cornelia asked, still angry.
"Oh, he's got a great scheme set up. He's laundering real estate for a group of Celts," Publicola blurts out.
"Celts???" everyone says, in shock and horror, loudly enough that the real Celts outside hear them.
"Yes...some widows and orphans who had a lot of villas and apartment buildings they couldn't legally sell, for some reason. He's been helping them out through his contacts with the building inspectors and managers, since that was his job last year- he takes part of the profits, and the families get the rest of the cash."
We take a minute and remember the old Celtic Liberation Organization plot, which involved setting fires to a large number of private buldings arranged in a ritual spiral all around Roma, centered on the Temple of the Vestals. Admittedly, none of us had ever thought to investigate what happened to those buildings.
"Do you know where the Celts are now?" Lucretius asks.
"Well..." Publicola hesitates.
Cornelia doesn't, and casts Suggestion. "Tell us, now, or we'll ruin your reputation forever."
"Otho goes to meet them at night in the Coliseum. I think they might be hiding out in the tunnels underneath it. Now that it's chariot racing season, there aren't any wild beast or gladiatoral games at the moment."
"Don't speak of this to anyone," Lucretius warns, and turns to leave.
"Don't worry!" Publicola says. "Can we just forget any of this ever happened?"
"For now," Metellus threatens, and strides out, the rest following.