The Silent Runes of Suzail

Iromae glances only briefly at the clerks, quite happy that Shenua decided to try to deal with them. She focuses on maintaining the confusion about the list and picks up on what Vorenus said. "If you do not have it sir, then who so you suppose does!" she says indignantly. She allows herself to move along out of the way as the others had suggested. "This needs to be resolved!"  

As Halver now seems to be under the spell's effect, she feels a bit more hopefully. She had been wondering what spell she might have tried as backup.  But her casting would have been far more obvious. This was good, hopefully it would work. As long as someone could get the bag. 

The alcove narrows the world. Noise fades to a dull murmur just beyond the stone lip. Footsteps pass, voices drift, but here — here it is contained. Focused. Fragile.

Halver opens the satchel. Leather creaks softly as the clasp comes undone. He pulls the folio free with practiced care, already half-expecting to prove this is all a simple mistake. His movements are efficient, familiar — he has done this a hundred times.

“Let’s see, then ...”

Inside are multiple folded documents, each bound with thin cord and marked with wax seals — some intact, some partially broken. Routine work. Nothing outwardly remarkable. But one of them — a tighter wrap. Cleaner seal. Marked with a small, precise sigil impressed into dark wax.

That is it.

You all see it at once.

Vorenus moves. The moment is now — and it is tight. He brings his own folio up alongside Halver’s, overlapping just enough to obscure the exact boundary between them. His posture, his tone, his easy chatter — all continue — a steady stream meant to keep Halver’s mind moving with him, not against him.

Shenua holds the social space — pleasant and affirming, keeping Halver oriented toward cooperation.

Iromae maintains the pressure — frustration, urgency — just enough noise to keep the situation from settling into scrutiny.

It is a delicate weave. And it almost unravels. Because as Vorenus’ fingers slip toward the sealed document ...

Halver speaks: “Careful,” he says, not sharply, but with instinctive precision. “That one —”

His hand shifts. Not pulling away. But touching the same document.

For a heartbeat, both of you are holding it.

This is the moment. Too slow, and he will notice. Too fast, and he will question. Too forceful, and the charm may not hold the shape of what comes next.

Vorenus, make a Sleight of Hand (DEX) check. Shenua or Iromae, one of you may each choose to assist with either a Deception (CHA) to reinforce the narrative and distract, or a Performance (CHA) to escalate the confusion at the exact right moment. If either of you succeeds on your roll, Vorenus gains advantage.

(OOC - I'm unclear as is says "one of you may" choose to assist but then it says, "if either of you succeeds".  I will leave such a roll to Shuna if it is only one of us. But here is my roll if it is both of us that may make the attempt.)  

Iromae was never one for deception, she is merely trying to play the part in escalating the confusion. (Performance: 17)

Vorenus keeps the stream of banter going, he’s pleased that Shenua and Iromae are playing along as well, each playing their role perfectly.  Vorenus keeps it very friendly, then he sees his moment, the brief opportunity, and he takes it.  He sees the document in question, and makes his move at the right speed.. 

Sleight of hand check, with adv : 22

(ooc: Not rolling since I understand Culuril's roll is more than enough)

Shenua tries to act cool, but inside her breath catches as both men reach for the same document. At that precise moment, she leans in just slightly, keeping her tone light and conversational — deliberately pulling Halver's attention away from Vorenus.

"You know," she says with an easy smile, "we should all go out for a meal and drink sometime. Though perhaps not the Gilded Lyre, hmm? I don't think I could ever afford a place like that." She lets out a soft laugh. 

The moment tightens — and then breaks cleanly in your favor.

Halver’s attention flickers — just for a heartbeat — away from the document and toward the women. Toward the idea of shared normalcy. Of conversation. Of something other than procedure.

It is enough.

Vorenus moves. Not quickly. Not slowly. Correctly.

His fingers shift with practiced precision, guiding the sealed document free while simultaneously allowing his own folio to replace the space it occupied. The motion is seamless — hidden within the natural adjustment of papers, the slight overlap, the illusion of order being restored.

The false packet slides into place. The real one disappears. No snag. No hesitation. Done.

Halver exhales. “Mm,” he says, as if satisfied with what he believes he has seen. “Yes. That looks right.”

He retakes the folio without inspecting it further — trusting the moment, the explanation, the feeling that this has been resolved.

Charm holds. For now.

He secures the satchel again, tightening the strap across his chest. Then he gives a short, polite nod. “Best be more careful,” he says, mostly to Vorenus, though without real bite. “We all have places to be.”

His gaze shifts briefly to Shenua. A faint, almost polite acknowledgment. “Enjoy your meal.”

And then — he leaves.

Stepping back into the flow of traffic. Rejoining the rhythm of the street. Another courier, another task, another day.

Gone.

Around you, the city continues as if nothing happened. Because, to it — nothing did.

Vorenus gathers himself, straightening himself up and looks around briefly, as one who has fallen and looks around to see if anyone noticed.  “Well, there you have it.  Goodday ladies.  We should get together sometime.  A meal and a drink sound good to me.  Let’s meet up sometime soon, m’kay?”  *wink*  Vorenus smiles and then heads on his way, playing the role of the courier, finding an alternate path back to Merienne’s shop, occasionally looking at the next job posting in his hand, back to playing his role.  Meanwhile, he keeps a death grip on the folio, moving with purpose in that direction.  

Iromae is left a bit at a loss. It seems the documents have been obtained. The courier is pleased at what he thinks is having sorted the situation. Voreunus starts to head off pleased in the real mission being completed. But her imaginary issue has not been resolved. 'Is anyone still watching?' she wonders. 'Will it be obvious if I just now drop the issue? But I don't want to draw more attention.'  And lastly, she thinks, 'Am I making too much of this?'  So, she tries to play this out to an ending. 

"Agh! This is pointless," she says aloud. "I'm just going to have to figure this out myself. Head off the problems before chef find out." With an exasperated sigh, she starts to head off. "I've no time for such things now. But you certainly owe me meal, sir." She gestures to the fading figure of Vorenus. To Shenua she adds, "I've really got to go see to all this!"  And she marches off down the street, opposite the direction of Vorenus.  Following the flow of traffic for a bit, she doesn't want to go too far.  Once a reasonable distance she turns off, hoping to slowly find her way back to the shop to meet up with the others.  

Even as she goes she is still very aware. She keeps a close eye out for anyone that might be observing, or worse, following. (Perception: 26) 

"Oh, well. Goodbye everyone, it was nice meeting you all!" Shenua says, standing there for a moment and waving everyone—including Halver—goodbye.

Then she seems to realize she cannot just keep standing there and quickly muses to herself, "I'm going to be late for work! Gods above, my boss is going to kill me," before rushing off in a direction that neither Halver nor Iromae nor Vorenus have taken.

Once she is clear of the chokepoint, she starts running. Her thoughts, as she heads back toward Merienne, are filled with relief that they've taken another step toward reaching Kalis, but also a lingering concern for Halver. She hopes he won't get into too much trouble once he realizes what has happened.

When she reaches the shop and finds her friends again, she exhales and smiles. "Phew. That was tense. And now I feel exhausted. I really need a good night's sleep."

Turning to Merienne, she adds, "Everything alright with the document, I hope?"

The break is clean — cleaner than it has any right to be.

Vorenus disappears first, folding back into the rhythm of the city with practiced ease. The courier’s gait, the casual glance at postings, the purposeful stride — nothing about him invites a second look. The folio remains tucked, controlled, never once drifting from his awareness.

Iromae lingers just long enough to resolve what never truly existed. Her frustration reads real — because it is — and when she finally breaks from it, it feels natural. Necessary. Unremarkable.

But her awareness catches something.

Not pursuit. Not quite.

As she moves with the flow and then slips off her line, she notices the same man twice — once reflected in a polished window, once again as he turns down a different street a little too soon after she does. Not closing distance. Not signaling. Just ... noting.

And then he’s gone.

No confrontation. No escalation.

But not nothing.

Shenua is the last thread to pull free. Her exit is the messiest — and somehow the most believable. The lingering, the sudden realization, the hurried departure — it fits the chaos she helped create. By the time she breaks into a run, no one is watching closely enough to question it. The chokepoint breathes again behind her.

One by one, you return.

Not together. Never together.

Inside, Merienne’s shop remains as it was — quiet, composed, sealed away from the noise of the city. She looks up as the first of you enters. Then the second. Then the third. Her eyes flick once to the door as it closes behind you.

“Lock it.”

Not urgent. But firm.

When the bolt slides into place, she steps forward. “Show me.”

No preamble. No pleasantries. Just expectation.

The folio is produced and set between you. For a moment, she does not touch it. She studies the seal first — the sigil, the integrity — then, carefully, precisely, she breaks it.

The wax gives with a soft crack.

Inside: a single folded document.

Merienne unfolds it in one smooth motion, her eyes scanning quickly — then slowing ... then stopping. Something in her expression shifts. Subtle. But unmistakable.

"... well,” she murmurs.

Not satisfaction. Not surprise. Something sharper. More complicated.

She looks up at you. “You were followed.”

Not a question. A statement.

Her gaze lands briefly on Iromae. “Not closely. Not yet. But the net tightens faster than you think.”

A beat. Then she taps the document lightly. “This was worth the risk.”

She turns it slightly, just enough that you can see portions of it: names, routes, designations — and one repeated phrase stamped in formal script: REASSIGNMENT AUTHORIZATION.

Merienne folds it again, more carefully this time. “This is not a courier’s errand,” she says quietly. “This is movement of people. Quiet removals. Transfers that do not return.”

Her eyes lift to Shenua. “To answer your earlier question — about records being amended ... this is how it begins.”

She exhales slowly and sets the document aside. “You have done what I asked.”

No flourish. But it lands heavier than praise.

Her gaze sharpens again, focused and assessing. “And now you are no longer incidental.” A faint, knowing look. “You are involved.”

She moves toward the garments in progress, fingers brushing fabric that seems to catch light in unnatural ways. “The mirrorcraft will be ready before nightfall.”

A glance back. “But understand this — what you took today will be noticed. And when it is, the response will not be subtle.”

Then, quieter: “You still intend to attend the ball?”

"What do you mean we were followed?" Shenua asks worriedly. She turns to Iromae. "You saw a man? Were you able to get a good look at him?"

The tiefling exhales sharply and begins to massage her temples. If she was tired before, this news only makes the exhaustion heavier.

"Of course we need to attend the ball. What did we do all this for? It's not like we have other options." She turns to Iromae and Vorenus. "We are going to attend, right?"

Iromae feels her chest tighten at the mention of being followed, and then the question at the end. "I saw a man, following. Then he disappeared," she says very quietly. "I'm quite certain he saw me. Likely all of us," she says worriedly. "I know we were disguised, but he knew something.  We'll be looked for." 

The final question still hangs in the air, as Iromae turns to her friends. "The decision to go has to be a collective one, I think. Going was always dangerous. I'm not sure having folks looking for us changes that all that much. So long as we are not specifically identified of course. The difference is now we're at risk pretty much wherever we go."  She gives the others a feeble grin. "Guess that all means I say we still go."  There's a hint of sadness to her as she says it. "Going to a ball initially sounded so fun. This though is going to be wrought with concerns and intrigues. But I think we have to go." 

She gives Merienne a smile. "Clearly your help has been invaluable. I hope we were able to help you as well." 

At first, Vorenus is positively giddy, overjoyed when he arrives back to see Merienne, then smiling and laughing when Iromae and Shenua arrive.  Taking deep breaths and giving out nervous laughs, he says, "Boy, I thought that we were going to lose it for a few moments back there!  I had to really double down and make him go through with it, thank you, both of you, for the distraction!  I couldn't have pulled that off by myself.  Whew!  The thrill of the hunt!  The play's the thing I tell you... anyway."  He stops, and listens to Merienne's next words and assessment.  

Vorenus turns to Shenua, saying "Absolutely we are going! I need some time to rest, I know that tomorrow night will come all too soon, but I need to rest and recover after today.  Before that though, we can plan for how this should happen."  He looks down at his hands, which are fidgeting in his lap, then up with an uneasy smile.  "Not that I'm the best at doing things exactly according to plan."  Followed by forced laugh.  

"The stakes feel higher now.  They were high to begin with.  But i feel... we are next to something so important.  We hold possiblity in our hands, to help this world, and ours." He looks over at Merienne, assessing her view of the situation.  "I'm glad to hear that we have helped you.  And yes, we are all in at this point. Have no doubt of that.  So ... what's next?"

Merienne does not answer immediately.

She moves first — crossing the room with measured calm, drawing the curtain at the front window just slightly tighter, then pausing with her hand resting against the frame as if listening for something beyond it. Only after a few seconds does she turn back.

“You were followed,” she repeats quietly, not as a question, but as confirmation settling into place. Her gaze shifts to Iromae.

She exhales once through her nose, then nods faintly to herself. “Your margin for error is gone.”

There is no panic in her voice. If anything, she sounds more focused.

Her eyes flick briefly to Vorenus when he speaks of the encounter — there and gone again — before returning to the group as a whole. “You succeeded,” she says. “That matters. But do not mistake success for invisibility. The city notices patterns. Disruptions. Even small ones.”

She moves back toward her worktable, but she does not resume sewing. Instead, she places both hands lightly against its edge, leaning just enough to anchor her thoughts.

“To answer the question none of you have quite asked yet — yes. You are still going to the ball.”

Her gaze sharpens slightly.

“In fact, now you must. If someone marked you today — and I believe they did — then remaining in the shadows will not protect you. It will only make you easier to isolate.” Her tone remains even, but there is a quiet steel beneath it now. “The ball is crowded. Layered. Chaotic in its own controlled way. It is the one place in this city where too many important people are in motion at once for the system to function cleanly.”

She straightens.

“You will be safer there than anywhere else tonight ... provided you are prepared.”

Her attention shifts to Iromae again, softer this time. “You did well to notice the tail. That awareness may have saved you more than you realize.”

Then to Shenua. “And you are correct to worry. What I said before — about records, assignments, identities ...” She pauses, choosing her words with care. “Those changes do not stay contained as neatly as the Crown would like to pretend. Influence spreads. Quietly. Through people. Through memory. Through paper.”

A slight tilt of her head.

“But no — you are not seeing your world rewritten from here. Not directly. Think of it more as ... pressure applied at a seam. Enough pressure, and something gives. Where it gives is not always predictable.”

She lets that settle, then continues.

“As for tonight — your path remains the same. The south crawl entrance. The dressing room. The mirrorcraft will carry you past the second layer of scrutiny.” Her eyes flick, almost unconsciously, toward Vorenus again at the mention of scrutiny — measuring, calculating. “After that, you will need to become part of the event, not intruders within it.”

A faint, knowing look touches her expression.

“You will not have invitations. So you will have something more useful.” She steps closer now, voice lowering slightly. “Plausibility.”

Her eyes flash.

“I will give you names. Minor houses. Peripheral attendees. The kind of people who are expected to be present but not important enough to be memorized.” Her lips curve just slightly. “You will be forgettable in exactly the right way.”

Only then does she finally allow a trace of approval to surface.

“You have done what I asked. And more importantly — you adapted when it went wrong.” Her gaze lingers on each of them in turn. “That is the only reason you are still viable.”

She reaches for a folded length of fabric — unfinished, but already shimmering faintly with that subtle, reality-bending quality of her work.

“These will be ready by nightfall.” A pause. “Until then, you should not return to the safehouse.”

That lands a bit heavier.

“If you were followed once, it may already be compromised. Whether the watcher understood what they saw or not is irrelevant. You cannot assume privacy there anymore.”

She straightens fully now, decision made.

“Stay in motion. Public places. Change direction often. No patterns.” Her eyes settle firmly on them. “Then return here at dusk. Separately, if you can manage it.”

A final beat.

“And when you do — come ready to become someone else.”

Iromae nods as Merienne talks. The ball would be dangerous, but perhaps safer than out on the streets. Or at least, they would be amongst others where they would stand out less. It was much as she'd been thinking before.  The woman's certainty about her being followed made her think. She was just as certain about it. Though not convinced she was followed here. Not that it wasn't possible. 'But how does Merienne know?' she wonders. 

It wasn't really important but still weighed on her mind. Now though was the time to focus on other things. "Alright, until tonight, perhaps we should split up."  She looks at Vorenus. "And perhaps yet a different disguise for Shenua and I? At least make the chance that whoever might recognize us from the confrontation with the courier might not so easily identify us now."  And the hideout. (OOC - Had we mentioned the safehouse? I hadn't thought we would have directly. Is it intended that she's revealing she knows about it without our having said anything. Or is the assumption we mentioned it to her at some point.  And sorry - we may have - I've not gone back to re-read things at this point!) "And of course we will not go back to the safehouse." 

"Now once we are actually at the ball, what exactly do we do there?" Iromae asks, the question directed to Merienne. She had her own thoughts. Events had seemed to draw them here. A part of her felt like just being there would be enough to lead them to whatever was next in their journey. But she wasn't quite willing to share all of that with this woman. "Was there anything we might accomplish on your behalf while there? A person to keep an eye on? Somone to make a new social contact with? Someone to dance with on the chance of them saying something useful?"  

"Wait," Shenua interjects. "We can't go back to the safehouse? What about the things we left there? Our magical items. We were planning to bring those to the ball, weren't we? That's one of the reasons we needed the mirrorcraft in the first place."

Did she make a mistake leaving the tuning fork in the safehouse? What if they need those items at the ball?

"Maybe… if only one of us goes," she continues, thinking it through, "disguised. That person could retrieve what we left behind. What do you think?"

Iromae looks over at Shenua as she mentions the items left in the safehouse. 'Have we told Merienne about those items?' She mulls the thought over in her head. The same question had been in her head, but she wasn't sure about being so open with this woman. "There are things we would need to retrieve from there. I guess the question is how to do it. And perhaps, if the risk of going is worth it."  

She knows they will likely have to go back there eventually.  After all, the passage back to where they came to this place was through there. Not that she fully understood, but it seemed likely their path back home would go back through there as well.  

Looking over to Vorenus, she says no more for the moment, waiting to see what he would add. Or what Merienne's response might be. 

Vorenus looks at Merienne when she says her concerns.  "Chaotic?  I can do chaotic.  Just ask these guys."  Sheepish grin.  "A natural born charlatan.  That's me.  Minor nobility?  You are speaking my language, ma'am."  Vorenus begins to take dance steps slowly around the room, periodically taking a twirl, but keeping eye contact with Merienne.  If she smiles, he offers his hand and begins a short dance with her, giving his rendition of a brief ballroom dance, practicing his steps.  

When it is mentioned that they should not return to the safe house, Vorenus shares the same concerns as Iromae and Shenua.  "My needle!  I need it.. and we need the other items as well.  I think they will be important.  I could cast a spell to change my appearance to a different race, a different height.. and then change again when I leave the safe house.  What do you think?  I could quickly go and get our items, come back here.  What do you think?  Shenua, you and Iromae could be nearby but not in the same area, ready to swoop in if needed, but hopefully it would not be needed.  What are your thoughts?  What is the nature of this... "marking" ?"

Shenua nods at Vorenus' plan. "Yes. Yes, let's do that. We'll stay close in case something happens, so we can help you. But hopefully that won't be necessary at all."

She pauses, thinking things through. "And what about sleeping? We'll need to find somewhere to rest properly until tomorrow." She looks toward Merienne. "Do you know anywhere we could stay low until the ball?"

"I... suppose we can be close by to help if needed," Iromae says. "We just have to take different paths to get there. I guess set a time to be there?"