Ellanise has had plenty of practice picking locks. It was one of her specialties when she ran with the Rats. But she decides to wait to see if the others can open the chest. Her further revelations of the night before were pulled from her despite her desire to distance herself from her past. It's difficult to leave the past behind, no matter how much you might want to. But still, others have talents. Why not let one of them handle this obstacle?

Käinen kneels beside the chest, studying its lock with a practiced eye. With a quiet click of his tongue and a confident flick of the wrist, the mechanism yields to his tools. There’s a soft metallic click, and then the lid creaks open. Inside, nestled in a bed of faded velvet lining, lie only two items.

The first is a simple ring: bronze or perhaps tarnished gold, with faint, curling patterns etched along the band. At a glance, the symbols seem ornamental, but there’s a rhythm to them, almost like a script that resists being read unless studied closely. A small, long-forgotten crest, unfamiliar to any of you, rests at the top of the band. The second item is a single sheet of parchment, folded twice. There is no seal, no markings, no visible ink or embellishment. It feels old in your hands, the fibers soft and worn, yet there are no tears or signs of damage.

Vasha leans in slightly, peering over Käinen’s shoulder. “That’s... odd,” she murmurs, blinking. “I was hoping for something more dramatic.” Her lips curl into a small, disappointed pout. “You know, maybe a cursed idol or a map that bursts into flames. You adventurers make it seem so glamorous.”

She straightens up and folds her arms. “But… I guess this has potential. Maybe it’s one of those ‘quietly important’ things.”

Teryn steps forward, his curiosity piqued, and gently lifts the ring from its velvet cradle, holding it between his fingers as he leans in to study the etchings. The faint, curling script draws his eye—subtle but deliberate, as though meant to be read only by those with the patience or knowledge to decipher it. “Not just decorative,” he murmurs, brow furrowing as he casts detect magic to see if it reveals anything. “A ciphered language...or something meant to respond to magic...?”

Investigation: 8

As you lift the ring from its velvet cradle, the etched script along its surface catches the light. Faint, curling symbols that seem almost familiar, yet just out of reach. You cast Detect Magic, and the enchantment settles over your senses like a soft shroud. Immediately, you feel it. Illusion magic, subtle and woven deeply into the parchment resting beside the ring. The scroll appears blank, but the magic clings to it like a veil waiting to be pulled back.

The ring itself doesn’t pulse with any particular school of magic, but it’s undeniably enchanted. As you turn it in your hand, you feel something peculiar: not physical but magical, tethering the ring to the parchment as if the two are halves of a greater whole.

Behind you, Vasha leans in slightly, arms folded and brow arched. “You’d think if someone went through the trouble of hiding this much magic, they’d leave behind a bit more drama,” she says with a hint of disappointment.

Teryn gives a light chuckle at Vasha's comment. "Now, now, it could still prove interesting. The ring and parchment are linked magically. A covert messaging system perhaps...?" He tries putting the ring on, though he feels a bit gaudy with two on, to see if wearing it allows one to see whatever is written on the parchment.

As you slip the ring onto your finger, a subtle pulse of warmth travels up your hand. A quiet, responsive hum, like a spell acknowledging its bearer. The parchment remains still for a moment longer. Then, almost like ink rising from beneath the surface, ghostly lines begin to unfurl across the page in looping, precise script as if they were being written in real time. The letters bloom softly into view as if freshly inked, addressed not to you, but clearly meant for someone who never replied.

The message reads:

"Well then.
I suppose that’s that, isn’t it? You’re gone too.

Sold off, likely. Again.

No doubt to some back-alley fence.

Farewell, Dhalis."

~L."

The words shimmer faintly, as though unsure whether to stay or vanish. As soon as you read the last word, they begin to fade, each line disappearing into the fibers of the parchment once more, until the page is blank again.

Teryn tilts his head curiously as he reads the message aloud. "Hm, 'Dhalis' and 'L'. A shame they couldn't continue their correspondence."

Vasha, who’s been quietly leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, straightens slightly as Teryn reads. Her eyes flick between his face and the parchment, then narrow slightly with puzzlement.

“Wait,” she says, stepping closer. “You’re… reading that?” She leans in, blinking down at the parchment, which, to her, remains utterly blank. “There’s nothing there. Are you pulling some kind of wizard trick?” Her voice is a mix of amusement and intrigue, but there's a note of genuine curiosity threading through it. “Well. Now it’s interesting.”

”We were too focused and too tired to think about anything not directly tied to our quest.” He answer with honesty, glancing at Ellanise before taking position before the chest and pulling his thieves tools. “I had to deal with harder locks in the road. Unexperienced travelers lose their keys all the time.” And it always fell to him solve the problem. Well, it wasn’t surprising that most Wardens lacked criminal experience. ”I blame the romanization on the bards.”

The goliath said rising to his feet and putting the tools away. He found Vasha’s reaction cute and for a moment saw him as a beautiful woman rather than a remind of his siblings. The ring might still be cursed, he pondered as Teryn examined it.

“Well, beautiful one, we just discovered the existence of a secret and regular meat market on the city. A conspiration that may involve key figures and make for a quite glamorous adventure, provided the City Guard accepts our help.” Pay for it, was what he meant. He hoped the tiefling would spoke of what happen to the professor that in turn would put in a good word for them, provided they found the lost book. ”Wait.”

He thinks about the message, trying to figure if it carried some Thieves Cant.

Ellanise watches Teryn's eyes move as he reads the message. When Vasha wonders over the mystery, the female elf can't help but grin before taking a deep breath and walking a few paces just for the exercise.

"What's our plan now that we've solved this?" She looks at the others expectantly.

Vasha raises a brow as Ellanise speaks, glancing between the parchment, the ring, and the lot of you with an ever-curious gleam in her eyes.

“Well,” she says, brushing a strand of hair behind one horn, “if the letter is solved, at least for now, and you don’t have any immediate conspiracies to chase, I can escort you to the professor. He’s probably elbows-deep in dusty scrolls by now, but he’ll want to hear what you’ve uncovered.”

She pauses, then adds more casually, “Or, if you’ve got your own path in mind, I can relay a message to him instead.” Her tone somewhere between teasing and completely serious.

Teryn gives a slight smile, taking off the parchment-linked ring and handing it over to Vasha. "Indeed, I have a bit of shopping to take care of before any more unforeseen developments. Perhaps you can experiment with these whenever you get a free moment. It seems whatever message is written disappears after being read."

The elf leaves and returns shortly, humming an eldritch tune as he happily tucks his new Alchemist's supplies away in his pack.

Käinen repeats the message with the voice of his mind, searching it for hidden meanings. No matter how the goliath looked there seemed to be no sign of Thieves Cant. A pity, he could not help but think. But at least it is not our main concern.

“I would say that depends on how we choose to approach our target.” He tells Ellanise. “The way I see things we have two options – either we go after the Rats or the nobleman Teryn knows. Personally, I would rather take the street approach. Seems faster and time is of the essence for us.” Besides, if everything went well, he was about to work against criminals either way. Gaining their animosity know would make no difference. “But if we do that you may need to beat old friends. Maybe do worse with. Can you deal with that?”

As Teryn speaks of shopping he stood too. The battle on the warehouse had made him wish for more equipment and that was the perfect chance to get it.

“I’ll get a second chain. It’ll be fast.” And it was. Käinen returned with a piece more on his equipment. Taking a seat he turned his eyes to Ellanise, waiting for her answer. All planning should come from there.

Rowan scratches the back of his neck, teal eyes flicking from the now‑blank parchment to the faces around the table. “Can’t say I caught whatever ink was sproutin’ on that page—looked as empty as a fallow patch to me,” he admits with a rueful grin. “Still, sounds like we’ve two furrows ready for plowin’: sniff round the Gilded Iris to see what crop they’re hidin’, or cozy up to this Duskrat boss and hope we don’t step on too many tails.”

He drums calloused fingers on the tabletop, belt‑runes faintly gleaming. “Truth be, I’d welcome a word with the professor first—might help us pick the ripest lead before we start swingin’ scythes. But I’m game to march whichever trail the lot of you reckon bears the better harvest. Just give the sign, and I’ll keep pace.”

While shopping is done, Ellanise goes outside to sit in the courtyard and wait, preferring to enjoy the air rather than sit inside and read.

When they are all together again, she agrees that speaking with the professor might be a good idea.

After gathering your supplies and tending to the morning’s errands, you return to the academy’s sun-dappled halls, the bustle of the harbor and streets falling behind you. The familiar spires and arched stone corridors greeting you like the pages of a well-worn book. As you approach your quarters, Vasha is already waiting in the corridor, arms crossed lightly and tail flicking lazily behind her.

“You’ve made it back intact,” she says, voice dry but amused. “Good. I hope your shopping spree wasn’t just an elaborate excuse to avoid academic oversight.” Her golden eyes gleam faintly as she straightens. “If you're ready, I’ll take you to the professor.”

She leads you through the now-quiet halls of the academy. Oil lamps flicker softly against old stone and murals of arcane history. Eventually, she stops outside a sturdy door. Vasha gives a light knock, then pushes the door open without waiting for a reply. Professor Marsh looks up from a chaotic spread of scrolls, half-drunk tea, and a dozen open books. His spectacles are perched at the tip of his nose, and his coat is dusted faintly with chalk. Vasha clears her throat.

“They’re back,” she announces.

The professor waves you in with a distracted gesture before his eyes properly focus. “Ah, splendid, yes, come in, come in,” he says, brushing off his lap with little effect. “I trust you’re well rested and whole. Vasha mentioned you encountered... complications.” His gaze sharpens, tone shifting slightly as he leans forward. “Now then, what do you plan to do about this Veyla? The book, as I understand it, is within reach. But the method of reaching it is still quite the hurdle, isn’t it?”

"I'm prepared to approach Ryn," Ellanise says. "But I don't think that should be our first choice. It's a gamble at best. We'll have to be both persuasive and cunning. Even if she does help us take down Vasha, as soon as she has the upper hand, we're in danger of being stabbed in the back." She takes a deep breath. "I think we should try other avenues first."

Rowan tips an imaginary hat to Ellanise, meeting her gaze steady as tilled soil. “If that furrow looks full o’ rocks, I’ll not force the plow,” he says with an easy shrug. “You’ve walked those rows before, so I’ll trust your read of the field. Question is—where’s the richer loam? We might slip into the Gilded Iris like paying folk, noses in the air and coin on the table, see what seeds we can glean before the crows notice. Or maybe there’s another gate left unlatched—some courier, supplier, or off-duty guard we can chat up for a back-door path.”

He leans on the edge of a cluttered desk, fingers tapping his runic belt replacement. “Tell us what furrow you reckon bears the ripest crop, and I’ll put my shoulder to the plow. One thing’s sure: we’d best choose our row quick, else Veyla harvests the lot and leaves us picking husks.”

Teryn glances at Marsh, then Vasha. “We’re still lacking a viable entry point to the Gilded Iris. Perhaps if we can infiltrate through one of Veyla’s other business fronts...It might offer us cleaner leverage. Subtlety and patience may win us more than a rushed alliance with someone who already sees Ellanise as a traitor.”

Professor Marsh, who had remained uncharacteristically quiet during your deliberation, finally leans forward and folds his hands atop the cluttered desk, expression thoughtful. “Well,” he says, voice low and steady, “it seems you have multiple paths before you—and no obvious one without risk. Ellanise, your instincts are sound. If this Ryn Faelith is as dangerous as you say, then even a temporary alliance with her would be walking a very narrow bridge.” 

He glances between you all, then over to Vasha, who watches the discussion with quiet attentiveness. “If subtlety is the better route, then perhaps you needn’t approach through fear and fire. The Gilded Iris, if it truly is what you say, may not be as impenetrable as it seems. Vasha and I both agree its reputation is... exclusive. Secretive. But not impermeable.” He steeples his fingers. “I wish I could pay your way in myself, but I fear the coffers of a tenured scholar don’t stretch far enough to buy passage into dens of velvet crime. That said...” He tilts his head slightly, giving the faintest hint of a smile. “You might consider calling upon whatever connections you do have. Merchants, nobles, collectors of secrets. Some of you strike me as people who’ve seen many walks of life. It’s possible someone in your circle has brushed against the Gilded Iris without ever naming it. Or someone who owes you a favor. If that fails...” 

His eyes flicker toward the envelope, still dotted with dried blood from the severed finger from before “You’ve already seen that certain names draw attention. Perhaps a forged introduction, a whisper in the right ear, or an intercepted courier could serve just as well as an invitation.” 

He sits back, hands now folded in his lap. “Vasha and I can only guide so far. If you return to us with something more tangible, an angle, an ally, we’ll support you however we can. But this next step may depend on you leveraging who you know... or what you're willing to pretend to be.”