Session 8, Part 4
It was the racket outside that woke Suniel up. By the time he got outside, Guntl was sitting on Stabber's chest, prying a dagger from the goblin's fingers.
"It's mine, I bought it!" Stabber said as Guntl finally got it free.
"You lost ownership when you cut me, goblin," Guntl said, brushing the blood from a cut on his cheek away with his sleeve.
"What's all this about?" Kezzek said, striding out of the inn, Greywarden gauntlet shining in the sunlight. Apparently, Stabber knew what it was, as he stopped struggling and went limp.
Suniel walked over and looked down. "Let him up Guntl, I need to talk with him."
Guntl complied, tucking Stabber's makeshift dagger into his belt. Stabber stood, glancing quickly between the Greywarden, the orc, and Suniel. "I didn't do it!"
"Didn't do what?" Kezzek said.
"Anything they accused me of?"
"Who?"
"A farmer found a couple chickens missing and two of his dogs dead," Suniel said, not looking away from Stabber. "They said it was a goblin that did it."
"It was Lunt!" Stabber said, gesturing towards Lunt's box on the back of the carriage. Faint snoring could be heard from within.
"Please," Guntl said, shaking his head. "Killing or stealing is too much work for Lunt. I haven't seen him do anything harder than eat too much since I've been here."
Kezzek growled and looked at Suniel. "Is this goblin under your protection?"
Stabber bit his lip and his eyes got big as he glanced between Suniel and the huge half-orc. "That depends on whether the goblin in question is acting in accordance to the agreement we had."
Stabber turned to run, but Kezzek was faster, grabbing the goblin and hoisting him into the air with his gauntleted fist. A blade came out of nowhere, raked across the metal, and flashed in front of Kezzek's face, but the Greywarden barely flinched. Instead he backhanded the goblin, threw him to the ground, and knelt on the thrashing goblin's back. He pried Stabber's razor free and tossed it aside. "Assaulting a Greywarden. Serious offense."
At that, Stabber went limp again and began crying. Suniel sighed and put an hand on Kezzek's shoulder. "I paid the restitution for the farmer even though he had no real, hard proof. I ask for Stabber to be given one last chance before he is turned over to Greywarden justice." He put special emphasis on the last to be sure Stabber heard it.
The Greywarden grunted, stood up, pulled his journal from his pack, and began writing. Stabber shuffled away and stood, glowering at Kezzek and Suniel. "I will do as you ask, wizard, but on probation. He must remain within 50 feet of you or your carriage for two weeks or he will be assumed guilty of assault on a Greywarden as well as being an immediate suspect for any other crimes under review at the time."
Harold walked out of the inn and took in the situation quickly. "I see we're all up. Good, saves me some time. We should head out to Northmand before it gets too hot out here." He turned to Guntl. "What happened to your face?"
At that moment, Grok'nar walked out of the stables, picking bits of straw off of his armor, and glanced down. "Hey, look here. Free razor!"
***
Long strands of lanterns were again hung between Northmand's walls, decorated here and there with mini bundles of wheat and strands of flowers. The harvest festival was nearing its climax and the spaces between Northmand's towering walls were literally packed with people drinking and dancing. Music from dozens of troupes mixed with laughter and raucous singing from every tavern.
Harold didn't notice any of it. Instead he stood on the wall, staring north towards Mirror Lake in the slowly fading afternoon light, his thoughts gloomy and distant. He barely heard Kezzek come up behind him, only registering the half-orc's presence when he leaned on the battlements next to him.
"How'd it go?" Harold said, not looking away from the lake.
Kezzek growled. "The Inspectors said they were still searching for the Assassin. They've gotten scattered reports of hooded, suspicious looking men, but with all the festival masks people are wearing, they've pretty much got the investigation on hold until the Harvest Festival is over. How about you?"
"The Ambassador got back while we were still out in the Ragged Hills and headed out again. We just missed him. There's some festival barge that left this morning and won't be back until sunset tonight. We should gather everyone up and head north to the docktown to meet them."
Kezzek glanced over. "You seem worried. You still thinking that Assassins are here to kill your Ambassador?"
Harold almost laughed. "Who else is there here important enough to be worth sending an Assassin after?"
There was a long silence at that, not broken for several minutes when a guard found them. "Captain Donnolan will see you know."
Kezzek nodded to the man and turned to Harold. "Come, let's gather the others and deliver our report. After that there should still be time to reach the docktown to meet your Ambassador."
He turned and headed towards the inner keep. A few minutes later, Harold followed, his feeling of disquiet grown stronger rather than soothed by the Greywarden's words.
***
"Excellent work with the Chieftain," Captain Donnolan said, hefting a bulging pouch onto the table with a clink. "As promised, here is the reward for the four of you."
Harold glanced at the pouch and made a dismissive gesture, his mouth opening. Whatever he was going to say, died before it could be spoken and Grok'ner grabbed the pouch, pulled a stool up to a smaller side table, tossed the pouch onto it, spilling its contents across the wood. Even Kezzek whistled at the warm glow of the platinum. Kezzek had never seen so much money in one place before.
As the hobgoblin happily began counting, the other three turned back to the Captain, Harold with a sigh.
"Don't mind him," Suniel said. "He doesn't understand the finer points of polite behavior."
"Or even most of the general ones," Harold said with a sour glance. Grok'nar grinned at him.
Donnolan waved it away. "Doesn't bother me, it's what you accomplished that really matters. If what you boys did buys us even a month of peace, it will be worth every platinum coin on that table. There's a new barracks going in at Laketide and we're building new forts near all the mines. If we have enough time, we may even get more done."
"Glad to be of service to our allies," Harold said, with a sharp glance at the hobgoblin. Grok'nar seemed to be busy counting and sorting.
"There was something else," Suniel said. "We were attacked by something else while out in the Ragged Hills. We've discovered that they are known as Iron Sky, rusty iron constructs sent from the Thousand Skylands to-"
In later conversations, they would mostly piece together what happened next.
It was as if time froze. They were still conscious, aware of what was going on about them as the air seemed to turn solid, a tossed platinum halted in mid-air, a drop of ink from Donnolan's quill frozen in mid-splash as it struck parchment.
None of them were able to turn and look to see the figure that entered, but they all agreed that it was golden, shining like a beacon as it glided into the room. "You will tell no one of this," it said to all of them, voice soft and melodic and powerful, almost a whisper. It moved to Captain Donnolan, wrapped and hooded in shining cloth of gold. A brief whisper in the Captains ear and it turned, passing quickly from the room.
Kezzek nearly fell over, the small sounds in the room suddenly pronounced and sharp after the absolute quiet of a moment before. Donnolan looked up at them with a look of puzzlement. "I'm sorry, I forget, did I already give you Northmand's thanks for your latest work with the hobgoblins? Oh yes, that's right, you were saying something about your trip back..."
"N... no, no," Kezzek said, his tongue feeling thick. He leaned over the gape-jawed hobgoblin and swiped the coins into the bag. "It wasn't anything, uh, worth talking about."
The four of them exchanged a quick series of glances and they all made their way hastily to the door. "We have urgent business to attend to that just came up," Suniel said. Donnolan seemed puzzled, but waved good-naturedly.
"Be sure to enjoy the festival!"
***
They rode in silence for a while, which suited Grok'nar fine after nearly an hour of sometimes heated discussion. Then Kezzek had to bring it up again. "You're sure no one got a look at him?"
"I had the feeling it was a her," Suniel said, eyes distant. "I don't know how I know, but it just... felt like a her."
"Didn't know you were a skilled enough wizard to cop a feel on someone powerful enough to stop time," Grok'nar said.
Suniel shot him a sharp look, then half-smiled. "You know what I mean."
"What sort of thing even has the power to stop time?" Harold said, brow furrowed. "It could have just killed us where we stood and we couldn't have done a thing about it."
They all glanced at Suniel, their resident expert on magic. Eventually he shrugged. "Something more powerful than anyone I've ever... met."
There was something in the wizard's pause the made Grok'nar suspicious. The others didn't seem to have noticed though, so Grok'nar shrugged it off.
The docktown was larger than it had looked from Northmand, stretching across a mile or more of Laketide beachfront. Grok'nar turned to Harold. "Do you even know where we're going?"
The others glanced at Harold as well but he just shook his head. "Look, it's a huge barge with almost a hundred people on it. It can't be that hard to miss."
Grok'nar had his doubts, but everyone was in a touchy enough mood already that he didn't say anything about it. They rode through the sunset docktown, the streets nearly empty, the people all probably at their homes or the festival.
Not long after entering the town, they reached the docks themselves.
"Look, there it is right there," Harold said, gesturing to a small lantern-lit dock a hundred yards away along the shoreline. A small procession of people stood on the dock, staring out at the lake.
"Seems a bit small for a welcoming party," Grok'nar said. "You sure it's not that one way up there with all the light and milling crowds of people?"
"No, he's right, this seems to be the one," Suniel said, glancing out across Mirror Lake. "You can see the lights of the barge right out there and it's heading this way."
They all followed the elf's gaze. A huge double decked barge was drifting towards the nearby dock, brightly lit with figures moving about on its deck and the faint sounds of music drifting across the water. "You see," Kezzek said. "Here comes your Ambassador, safe and-"
Just then, a shadow seemed to engulf the barge and it burst into flame.
Harold swore and turned to spur his horse but Grok'nar caught something moving out of the corner of his eye and called out a warning. From the shadowy streets and alleys of the warehouses, shops, and store-houses around them, six pale, dark cloaked figures materialized all around them, feral grins on their faces.