Date: 13th Sypheros, 998 YK
Client: Professor Nigel Faurious via Clifftop Adventurer's Guild
Point of contact: Minister Calemi Iridanci, Thaliost
Mission objective: Retrieve the item titled "Duskgate Crucible"
09:54am
Presently rolling into the station – journey uneventful. Everyone seems to be in good spirits, or at the very least neutral. No obvious signs of tension in their body language, no heavy or negative conversations overheard along the way.
Damien is sprawled along the plush seats while finishing whatever liquid occupies his cup – not wine, not at this hour. Coffee, perhaps? I thought it too bitter for his tastes. Charlie is his usual quiet self, thoughtful and studious in his demeanour. Damien is apprehending his silence, however - not that Charlie seems to mind much. There’s been a distinct shift in Charlie’s complexion since they began talking. Charlie seems a naturally cold person – perhaps physical closeness to others warms him? Nerys and Ruckus are deep in their vices, heads hung low in a book or metallic contraption with their brows deep in thought – both are so passionate and dedicated to their craft. It’s hard to comprehend getting joy from the mundane aspects of a role as they appear to be. I have never found joy in my musings – busying the mind to quell the unnecessary thoughts, perhaps, but it never brought me comfort or happiness.
It seems we’re returning to our baseline, no more lingering doubts. Good. (Note to self – discuss the events of Daanvi with the others at an appropriate time, not during a mission. It would be bad for morale.)
Despite all the positive signs surrounding the start of our new adventure, I have a gnawing pit in my stomach. I cannot recall the last time our party simply walked to our destination and retrieved the item of our objective without incident. It’s becoming laughable, really. It’s fighting packs of gnolls that outnumber us three-to-one, racing terrorists through hellish, bureaucratic ziggurats, or getting hunted by a metal monstrosity like in Fort Bones. Fort Bones was
I have a feeling today will be no different. Perhaps I should start taking bets with the others on what ridiculous inconvenience will hinder us on future missions.
10:21am
Met with the point of contact, Minister Calemi Iridanci. First impressions are positive. Kind, eager to help, no obvious tells or hidden weapons. Threat level is low. However, he seems to be struggling to gain the attention of his companion from behind the door and is becoming increasingly more flustered with each passing second. Does not handle unknowns or stress well, it seems.
The door is unlocked. Unexpected and alarming to our point of contact, might I add. Investigation notes are paused until the potential threat is handled.
- - -
No threat detected, notes to be resumed.
Minister Calemi Iridanci is flustered at the sight of his companion seemingly asleep in a chair. Physical shaking has resulted in zero responsiveness. Advised for the minister to step aside and let us investigate the matter further on his behalf. He agreed.
There was a very good reason his companion could not be awoken.
Poison.
The victim – Jeffi – shows obvious signs of ingesting a potent concoction. The purple liquid seeping from his waterskin and the purple hue of his lips / general discolouration of his complexion confirms it. The body is slumped – non-ridged? Unable to tell without touching the victim, though I have little jurisdiction here. Regrettable – I could narrow the list considerably. The candles suggest the victim has been in this state for some hours. Chances of recovery are near-zero. Unable to feel for pulse without compromising the crime scene – again, regrettable.
No signs of a struggle, neither from a point of entry nor from the victim’s current body language. The main entrance was left unlocked, which seemed to surprise Minister Iridanci. The person who did this seems to have substantial knowledge of the ministers’ routines. The minister confirmed there is only one entry point for the vault, through the main chamber.
The door to the treasury has no weight of resistance. Unlocked. There's little point engaging with it at present; the item is almost assuredly stolen. Gathering evidence takes precedence when the perpetrator is already long gone. It’s a shame we know little about the artefact at present – it may have given some indication where a thief would squirrel it away.
The minister is set to return shortly with help. More questioning will be needed to gain a full picture.
10:29am
Minister Iridanci returned with two men: Lukar Neskus and Drego Sarhain.
Lukar Neskus. He appears to—
Drego Sarhain. Dangerous. Flamboyant with a friendly demeanour, carefully curated. His smile is inviting and distracting with purpose; he does not want you to notice the casual fall of his studded, gloved hands resting at his waistline. Within reach of his silvered rapier. Within reach of the four five concealed weapons he has out of sight if you are not purposefully looking for them. His clothing is lightweight – hand-tailored? – allowing for extra speed most would not consider in close combat, leading to a quick death. He is currently blocking the only exit.
He is blocking the only exit.
Sarhain made it look effortless, but he’s already assessed each of us with a single glance. Our styles, our weapons of choice, most likely our vulnerabilities if his eye is sharp enough.
Never let him out of sight; always keep an eye on him. One misstep and one of us will wind up dead.
- - -
I’ve been inattentive, too busy writing in my notebook. Sarhain asked for a working theory amongst my written musings. I was not inclined to give one. His current theory is as follows:
“He’s been poisoned. The violet substance in his waterskin, the purple hue of his lips, the candl—” I already came to this conclusion. Unnecessary addition. He loves to talk. And loves being the centre of attention. And being the smartest person in the room. I know this type very well. Aggravating, infuriating, hard to manage.
Upon asking if the victim can be healed, Sarhain attempted healing magic. He concluded that the severity of poisoning is beyond conventional healing – an antidote or more potent care will be required. The cast was fascinating. A hand gesture was used, but his lips kept smiling that inviting smile. Not a single whisper.
This is bad. Dire, even. Charlie’s brow is knit in curiosity, in thought – his breathing hitched for the slightest moment at seeing the magic cast without verbal components. He’s impressed, I think – there’s admiration in his eyes, a tug of a smile at the edges of his lips. His eyes are darting along Sarhain for an entirely different reason – not managing threat levels, that much is assured.
Damien wears his heart on his sleeve; it’s not hard to see his dislike of Sarhain. The rhythmic bounce of his leg would give it away if not for the clear scowl on his face, how his jaw sets tighter with each sentence in which he cannot rebuttal or retort to release his tension. He’ll start his peacocking soon – he refuses to be upstaged by anyone, especially those with whom he has disagreements.
Ruckus is aware of the tension; I can tell by the way he’s glancing between us all with the cock of his head in confusion or thought. It’s hard to gauge which way on the matter he’s falling, like or dislike for our new acquaintance.
We need to get ahead of this before it’s too late. We cannot afford to get swept up in the Silver Flame’s tempo, becoming lambs under his shepherding. He’s too dangerous to be given control of the momentum in a situation like this.
- - -
- - -
My skin won’t stop tingling where Sarhain touched the back of my hand before entering the reliquary. I hate that it made all the hair on my body stand on end. Maddening.
- - -
The artefact has been stolen. A shocking revelation. I should have started our betting ring this morning.
- - -
Three major leads will need to be investigated to give us a direction on our culprit: the dance hall where Aundarian’s might be willing to slip some information to Damien, a bar where all the best underbelly information can be teased out of others, and a poison expert who might have an inkling of a buyer.
It would be best to investigate the leads we have at our disposal separately from Sarhain. Lukar Neskus joining will not be a hindrance – he seems to dislike Sarhain as much as Damien and I. The sooner we get on our way, the better. I can still see the shine from his perfect teeth, even from the other side of the room.
He’s sickeningly perfect.
Approximately 1pm
Summary of notes retroactively added from two of the following leads investigated:
- Dance hall: Damien was successful in handling the Aundarian members in the hall, learning that a woman with a maroon cloak had been enquiring about a one-way trip to passage on short notice. The train will be leaving in a matter of hours, no more than two.
- Poison’s expert: After describing the victim's symptoms and the physical description of the poison, the shopkeeper identified the poison as “havenflax.” It is considered a sleeping drug and is commonly found in the Eldeen Reaches. The drug is not purchasable in Thaliost, confirming it was likely smuggled into the city.
Note: There’s a great deal of political unrest between Thaliost and Aundair. Failed uprising 928. Crime may be politically motivated.
Returning to the minister and Drego Sarhain, rather than investigating the bar lead due to a lack of time.
Silver. Silvered weapons, silver-studded gloves, stupid silver smile. And to top it off, he was reading a book on lunar cycles and their convergences. He knew. He fucking knew.
How is it possible? Is he in league with the culprit? Is he the culprit? What did I overlook? How could I possibly falter to such a painstaking degree that something this unacceptable could happen?
I need to retrace my steps, review my notes – I need to find the exact moment where I failed. I was too slow in compiling the evidence, that much is a fact. Did I spend too much time fixated on a single aspect of the case? Did I let it guide me down a rabbit hole for too long while Sarhain kept a clear head from the beginning?
Gods, I did not even have the decency to form a conclusion of my own. I had to take the scraps to Sarhain because I was unable to find the solution alone. How disgraceful to have an outsider arrive at the conclusion before I had even begun to collect the puzzle pieces. An Inquisitive running in circles, a lamb guided by a silvered shepherd to anywhere but the finish line.
What is wrong with me? Making stupid mistakes, getting swept up in petty, childish behaviours – buying vials of hair growth to try and get a rise out of him? And to what end? I need to be better than this. I’m sullying the House Medani name.
Always lacking. Always relying on others to fix the mess, to do the heavy lifting. Always looked upon by eyes of pity, by doubt.
It’s done. I cannot change it now. What I can do is apprehend the culprit on the train long before it arrives at its destination. I refuse to let Drego Sarhain or anyone else make me look the fool.
I am so sick of being the fool.