Residue of Sorrow

Arren, who has carried the crate all the way to the Peite's house, stops in front of the door, sighs, and then turns to look at Bryn.

"I think it would be best if you do the talking. I’ll probably only upset her."

He takes a couple of steps back, leaving Bryn space to stand at the front door.

Bryn watches Carmelo retreat into the bakery, noting the boy’s mental exhaustion. As they walk to the house, he takes in the sight of the small garden and the colourful curtains. The curtains may be colourful, but it seems the whole house is in mourning.

He also spends the walk pondering his strategy for this meeting. Otis was present at the prison with Corporal Piete, but that name is linked to an escaped prisoner which could lead to trouble with the military. Using my real name is a risk, but then it is not known in these parts to anyone but the Commandant, the Lieutenant and the Sergeant.

When Arren steps back, he offers a small, steadying nod. He understands the Sergeant’s position; a uniform is a reminder of the why this happened, while a scribe is merely a messenger.

He steps up to the door, adjusting his backpack and taking a quiet breath to settle his nerves before knocking softly, almost tentatively.

"Mrs Peite?" he calls out gently, pitched just loud enough to be heard through the door. "My name is Bryn. I am a humble scribe who was present at Tus alongside your husband, and an acquaintance of Emma Acunar. I’ve come because I made her a promise to bring your husband's things home to you personally, with the care they deserve".

He glances back at Arren briefly, wondering what the Sergeant thinks of him using his true name, then returns his focus to the door, waiting for any sound of movement from within. He feels a flicker of relief at leaving the 'Otis' identity behind - that name belonged to a prisoner and a fugitive, and here, amidst such honest grief, he finds he has no wish to carry more lies than are strictly necessary.

The Sergeant gives a small nod and a faint smile when Bryn glances back at him. He sees no fault in what the man has said and hopes Mrs Peite will open the door.

If she does, he'll say nothing. Instead, he'll bow his head slightly, still holding the crate that contains Tace's belongings.

After a long moment of silence, Bryn can hear a key turning in its hole and the door unlocking. The door opens, just a little at first, as Kone peeks to see who stands at her doorstep. She is very distinctively a Wood Elf - skin that's of a light green hue, and flaming curly hair, which she made no effort to collect. Like Carmelo, she is dressed in black. She looks at Bryn for a few moments, then at Arren. "Come in then," she finally says, walking back into the house and giving the door a little nudge so it turns on its hinges and opens. 

The curtains, although only semi-opaque, do a fairly good job of blocking off the light, creating a dark and stuffy atmosphere inside the small house. Not that it poses much of an issue to the Elves. Curiously, the little light that does pass through the curtains is coloured by them, and so the dim-lit house can almost seem colourful with the Elves' enhanced sight. 

Kone leads into the kitchen, which also serves as a dining room. In it stands a small round table, with four chairs placed around it. "Please sit," Kone gestures to the table, but then proceeds to a nearby pantry. "I'm afraid I do not have much to offer you," Kone apologises, though her voice doesn't carry even a trace of kindness, sounding nothing but polite. She returns with a small wooden box, which she places at the centre of the table. When Kone removes the lid, she reveals a few simple cookies inside. "I'm not sure whether they're any good. I've made them..."

Kone trails off for a few moments, then pulls one of the chairs away from the table and sits in the other, distancing herself equally from both Bryn and Arren. "You said you're acquainted with Emma? I haven't seen her in so long. How is she?"

"Thank you for letting us in, Mrs Peite," Arren says as the elven woman leads them into the house.

As he follows her and Bryn into the kitchen, his eyes move around the room, noting the dim atmosphere created by the curtains. If there was ever a sign of how Kone is feeling, this is certainly it. Unconsciously, he searches for anything that might tell him more about Tace—perhaps a drawing or some small keepsake depicting the deceased corporal. If only he could see even a glimpse of what Tace looked like so he can complete the image he formed back in Tus, where he saw only a man in uniform, his face hidden behind a helmet...

He thanks Kone when she offers the cookies, saying, "Thank you. We already had something to eat and drink at your bakery. It was Carmelo who told us how to find your home. He seems like a good young man, Mrs Peite."

Arren places the crate containing Tace's belongings not on the table—he does not want it to draw Kone's attention just yet, when she has just asked about Emma—but on a nearby chair beside him for the moment.

When she asks about Emma, Arren exchanges a brief glance with Bryn. How much are they meant to tell her? Since Bryn spoke directly with Emma, he feels it is best to let him explain.

Still, he offers a small opening.

"Emma is in good health," Arren says quietly. Technically true, despite her transformations. "But I'm afraid things did not go as well as we would have hoped in Ersta."

He glances again toward Bryn.

Bryn takes a seat, moving with a quiet, deliberate care that respects the dim, heavy atmosphere of the kitchen. He looks briefly at the cookies and smiles at Kone, appreciative of the gesture under the circumstances, but knowing it was mostly hollow.

"I was hoping to speak about your husband before we speak of Emma", he says with a frown that soon turns into a resigned expression. "Sergeant al-Nasrid is right", he says motioning to Arren. "Although she has also suffered a great deal of heartache", he says, his voice soft and steady. He chooses his words with the precision of a man who knows that one wrong syllable could shatter what composure Kone has left.

"There was an unfortunate accident in Ersta. Emma’s husband, Hector, passed away in tragic circumstances. Because of the circumstances, the authorities had to intervene, and I am afraid Emma had to be taken into custody".

He pauses, sighs and scratches the back of his head, hoping that the informal gesture will help solidify in Kone's mind that he isn't any kind of military authority figure. "Be assured she gave herself up to the authorities willingly, and is fully co-operating, but the situation is complicated and there is no more I can share than that".

He offers a small, apologetic inclination of his head. "She spoke of you with fondness, Mrs Peite. When she heard of what happened to your husband, she insisted I pass on her condolences, and I assured her I would speak to you personally to attempt to answer any questions you might have. And, of course, the Sergeant here has brought back your late husband's effects - we had hoped to pass them to you and Carmelo together, but Carmelo felt it best to stay and tend to the bakery while we came here".

"I know this is a dreadfully difficult time, and I apologise for intruding upon your grief", he adds softly. "I know that nothing we can say or do can really make the situation any better, but perhaps there might be some small benefit in receiving Mr Peite's belongings and being able to ask questions you might not have been given the chance to ask".

((Sorry, circumstances don't allow me to let Kone be kind to Arren, so you can add another name to the list. I'm sure some women will be nice though.))

Arren doesn't see anything that would help him uncover Tace Peite's appearance under the helmet, nor anything that would remind him of his appearance while wearing it. But Arren didn't see all of the Peites' house yet, so there may still be hope. Instead, what Arren does see is a house that, barring the circumstances, would look full of liveliness. From the colourful curtain vails to numerous arts and small crafts - wooden statuettes, knitted dolls, clay vases, paintings of flowers - all of which seem to have been made by novice hands, as evident from minor yet notable imperfections.

"Of course, who'd expect strangers at my door to ever bear good news or present more answers than questions?" Kone says in response to Bryn's vague description of Emma's situation. She crosses her arms and leans backwards. 

"They said T- They said he died when the earth shook. That the floor crumbled under him, and he was buried under the debris. If they wanted to cover something up, I imagine they'd say a prisoner snuck a hidden blade into prison and used it in an attempt to escape, or something else that's too absurd to have been made up. What other questions am I left to ask? Why can't the military sustain its facilities to withstand natural disasters? Why he had to be in that room at that time?" She gradually starts raising her voice, losing the stoic mask she tried to don so far. Intentionally or otherwise, she leans forward again, and soon stands up. "Why he had to be stationed so far from home? Are you here to explain why I can't even bury him since his body is still in that remote prison, even the gods haven't heard of? Or are you here to come up with some new story to make sense of all this? Please, enlighten me!" She's practically shouting by now, but her eyes look wet with tears.

She waits just a moment in silence before collapsing back into her chair. She wipes her tears away, though they don't stop flowing. When she speaks again, her tone has gone down, but she doesn't make another attempt to appear calm. "I'm sorry. It's not your fault, I'm just... He was finally talking about coming back more often but now... What was the point of it all if he just..." She stands up again, but not abruptly. "I'm sorry, please give me a moment." 

Kone leaves the table and disappears into another room in the house. But as the house isn't large and the walls aren't too thick, Bryn and Arren can hear the Wood Elf weeping. Only after several minutes does she return. She looks calmer, but her face still has the slightly browner hue that is the equivalent of red for those whose skin isn't green. She sits in front of Arren and Bryn again, if they're still there. "Forgive me for all that. You... said you brought his effects?"

(ooc: It's the expected reaction. Poor Kone 😔)

At the sight of so many colours and small works of art, Arren wonders if this might have been Kone's attempt to make the house the complete opposite of grey and dull Tus. A place where Tace would have felt entirely at home, as distant from the prison as possible. He smiles inwardly at the thought.

When Kone begins to speak, letting her pain spill out more and more with every word, Arren remains silent, allowing her grief to wash over him as expected in a moment like this. Sometimes the job demanded fighting. Other times, it demanded bearing other people's pain. Fortunately, the latter were fewer ... but they were harder than any bandit or wild animal could ever be.

"There's no need to apologise, Mrs Peite. I just wish we had better answers for you—anything that could ease your and your son's pain. But I'm afraid we don't. We were there, in that same room, and were swallowed by the collapse along with your husband. What you've been told is the truth."

We just happened to be luckier than him…

"Your husband was going to be my new companion, after my Lieutenant retired," he continues. "I only saw him for a moment before the earthquake. He was wearing armour and a helmet, so I didn't get to see his face. There was a questioning going on," he glances briefly toward Bryn, struck again by how strange it was that the man sitting beside him now had been the one questioned that day, "so we couldn't speak then. But he waved at us. I remember thinking he seemed a little shy, but kind."

Arren pauses, then adds quietly, "I wish we could have reached Pyorre together, Mrs Peite. Ours is a small unit, but we care for each other. I'm sorry we couldn't bring Tace home."

When Kone returns from the other room and asks about Corporal Peite's effects, he nods and lifts the crate from the chair where he had placed it, setting it gently on the table before her.

Whether she opens it or waits for them to leave, Arren will address Kone one last time, "If I may ask one favour of you, Mrs Peite. I think Emma would be glad to hear from you. A letter from a dear friend might ease her time in prison."

Bryn remains silent as Kone allows her grief to momentarily turn into frustration and anger, something it has likely done many times since she learned the news. When Arren does break the silence, he merely listens, hearing the truth resonant in the Sergeant's voice. But he knows that it is a partial truth, that there has been an omission of certain facts.

Was it due to military duty, or the feeling that it could only lead to more pain? It was likely the right decision. Kone does not need to know the real context behind the collapse that killed her husband - the fact it wasn't natural at all.

He maintains his silence while Kone is out of the room, his head bowed in a respectful vigil. He doesn't look at the crafts or the curtains. He simply listens to the sound of her grief, his expression one of mirrored sadness. When she returns, he offers her a small, encouraging nod, his eyes warm and devoid of judgment.

When Arren places the crate on the table, and then asks for a favour regarding a letter to Emma, he winces a little. It is a soldier’s request full of good intention, but it feels a touch tactless for a soldier to ask for a favour involving a prison from a widow whose hands are trembling over the effects of a husband who died in military service at a prison.

"I am sure Emma would value your words, Mrs Peite", he says, his voice soft. "But forgive us. We are perhaps too focused on the living when it is the dead who deserve our pause. Fate is a cruel thing - to take a man when he was finally looking toward the horizon of home. It is an injustice no explanation can truly satisfy".

He leans in slightly, his presence calming and patient. Unlike Arren, who saw Tace for only a fleeting moment, Bryn had spent months in Tus, often under the corporal’s watch.

"I spent more time in your husband's company than the Sergeant did", he adds gently. "He had a quiet authority about him, the kind that didn't need a raised voice to be felt. It made the atmosphere in that place much easier to bear. Perhaps that same steady strength is what filled this house".

He looks at the crate, then back to Kone, offering her a genuine choice.

"We have spoken a little of the man we knew, but we know that is only a shadow of who he really was. If you would like, we can stay a while. Not to talk of prisons or favours, but simply to listen, if you would care to tell us about the Tace you knew".

Kone wouldn't really have given Arren a chance to speak during her outburst, but she will listen to him after returning from the other room. "Shy but kind," she repeats melancholically. "I suppose that's true."

When Kone opens the crate containing Tace's personal belongings, the first thing she picks out is a deck of playing cards. "Tace didn't like attention very much, even before he got that awful scar. The only time he'd raise his voice would be out of excitement during a heated game of cards. It was as if he had forgotten himself, the moment the cards were dealt. Until a victor was declared, the world could end, but he would remain fixated. Oh, but don't get the wrong impression. Tace knew not to gamble with money. He'd proudly say the guards in Tus turned to gambling on nuts and fruit thanks to him. Though I'd always ask whether it mattered, since they had to pay money to buy the fruit, Tace said they'd also eat it, and so..." her eyes become wet again, but Kone goes on talking. 

"I don't know. He always said it was different. That in the end, they'd just place everything on a large tray and share it. Silly, isn't it?" Kone wipes her tears, but an involuntary melancholic smile briefly appears on her face, and disappears as quickly. "I'm sure it must look peculiar to you that a man with a family would choose to serve so far from home for so long. But the pay was much higher, because of the distance, so..." This is not something Arren hasn't heard of. In fact, he had received this distance-based bonus himself before he began serving under the Commandant, after which the pay was calculated differently. "And all of it because of my stupid bakery. If I hadn't dreamt of it, we wouldn't have taken that loan, and then he wouldn't have to..."

Catching that she's starting to raise her voice again, Kone takes a few moments to calm down. Perhaps a moment for Arren or Bryn to talk, if they wish. Eventually, she chooses to continue. It seems she finds some comfort in talking to people whom, as far as she knows, she won't talk to again, most likely. "Not that it matters now. He was talking about a transfer. That he'll be able to return home more often, and receive higher pay as well. We always thought it'd be fine. A few years apart, we'll have so many more together later, we believed. Hey, don't make that mistake. We may live longer than Humans, usually, and a century or two might seem like a long time, but they can end in an instant. Don't let your loved ones slip away. I always thought it must be so sad to live just a few decades. But now, I will live without him for so many decades more. Isn't it worse? I wonder how the Drow and Dwarves do it. Or maybe, living so long, they can get over a heartbreak and start anew?"

Kone might talk a few minutes more, or perhaps listen to Arren or Bryn wish to say anything. Eventually, however, she'll get up from her chair. "I'm sorry. You must have something better to do than sit all day and listen to a... a wid..." she struggles to pronounce the word, as if it gets stuck in her throat every time she makes an attempt. "I can't make you dally here forever. But thank you for listening, anyway."

Perhaps then Arren suggests Kone write a letter to Emma. Kone nods silently in response, but doesn't say anything.

Bryn listens with a soft, focused intensity, his chin resting slightly in his hand. As Kone speaks of the gambling with fruit and the "shy" man who avoided attention, he finds himself mentally overlaying this image with the Corporal he had watched for months in the dim light of Tus.

He remembers the Tace of the prison: a man of few words, a sort of quiet sentinel in a helmet who moved with a steady, unyielding precision. He had seen Tace as part of a joyless place, but now, looking at the knitted dolls and the colourful paintings of flowers, the gears click into place. Tace hadn't been cold, he had been armoured. He had worn the helmet and the silence like a shield, protecting this small, vibrant bakery-dream. The quiet authority was simply the discipline of a man determined to earn every copper of that distance-bonus, no matter the cost to himself.

"He obviously cared for you very much, Mrs Piete", is all he can think to say in that moment when she pauses.

"There is a peculiar mercy in a short life, perhaps", he says quietly, addressing her thoughts on the long years ahead. "But I do not think the Drow or the Dwarves have a secret for it, Mrs Peite. I think they simply carry the weight until they grow strong enough to bear it. It is not that the heartbreak ends, perhaps the life built around it becomes more of a distraction, though".

He stands as she does, ignoring her apology for sitting all day, offering instead a look of genuine gratitude.

"You have no need to apologise for being a wife who remembers her husband", he says, gently bypassing the word she couldn't speak. "We came to bring his effects home, and in listening to you, I feel we have finally seen the man behind the leather".

As Arren makes the final suggestion regarding the letter to Emma, and they head to the door, he lingers a moment. He silently opens his backpack and speaks the words of magic in the barest of whispers, summoning his invisible spectral hand and using it to retrieve a now invisible pouch of 50 gold pieces. As he closes the pack and makes his way to the door, the invisible pouch floats across the room and is tucked discreetly away amongst the dolls, vases and paintings. Not so hidden that it will never be found, but perhaps it will remain that way for just long enough that he and Arren will be out of sight of the Peite house.

At the door, he offers a final, respectful bow. "Thank you for your time, Mrs Peite. And for sharing some insight into your husband. It might not be my place to say, but it seems to me your son and the bakery are the legacy of a man who loved you. I expect it would give him great comfort to know that his efforts helped make your dream a reality".

As they step out into the crisp air of Pyorre, he feels a flicker of hope that Kone might start to see the bakery not as the debt that cost her a husband, but as a sanctuary. He likes to imagine that, in time, she and Carmelo might find a little peace within those walls, protected by the foundation Tace spent his life building for them.

Arren is glad to see Kone smile, even if only for a split second. If this little conversation has eased her pain even a little, then it has been worth it.

"He must have been a really persuasive man to convince them to replace gold with nuts and fruits," he says, with a faint smile of his own.

Everything he hears about Tace Peite only reinforces the feeling that he would have been a good companion, and even makes Arren miss the idea of working with him. It is a strange feeling, to miss something that never truly began.

He remains silent as Kone and Bryn speak about the shorter-lived races, but the passage of time—and the warning not to let loved ones slip away—lingers in his mind, reminding him of a similar conversation he had with Walnuts not long ago. Tace and Kone had endured the distance for a purpose, for something they built together. But what is he doing with his time? Longer than a Human's, shorter than an Elf's. And yet, in the quiet of that multicoloured kitchen, he cannot help but feel the answer is ... nothing as meaningful as what they had.

After a moment, he pulls himself back to the present and adds, quietly but firmly,  "That bakery is not stupid at all. It is a beautiful place, and a dream you and Tace shared. The fact that you both worked so hard for it only means it was worth it. It still is."

He inclines his head slightly. "And… thank you, Mrs Peite. For sharing this time with us. I'm grateful I could see a glimpse of the man he was, beyond the little I saw."

Once they say their farewells and step out into the streets of Pyorre again, Arren takes a long, deep breath.

"That was tough," he says after a moment. "She has a long and painful path ahead of her, but I hope speaking about it helped, even if only a little"

He begins to walk, lost in thought for a while and with no real destination, until he finally comes back to himself and turns to Bryn.

"What should we do now? We have several days ahead of us. I suppose my first stop should be the station, to get my gear back."

When the two leave Kone's house, the sun is still high in the sky - although currently covered by a passing cloud. It isn't raining, though, so they're saved from this discomfort, for the moment. It probably hasn't been more than an hour - at most - since they talked to Carmelo, and this leaves several hours more for the day.

There are five more days before the scheduled meeting with Commandant Nattensbarn. This gives plenty of time for Arren and Bryn to rest or do anything they want. The periodic rains continue for the rest of the day and the two following days as well. The days following those are sunny and slightly warm for the season.

If there's anything in particular you want to do, we can play it as before. There are also plenty of sources of inspiration for downtime activities you can find, namely in XGtE if you wish (I might not follow what's written there exactly, but it can serve as inspiration). Otherwise, we can skip ahead without details, whichever you prefer.

Bryn walks in silence for a few moments, watching the shadow of a passing cloud drift over the surface of the street as he contemplates their visit with Kone Peite.

Internally, his mind is struggling to rationalise what just happened. In his old life, he had spent years as a charlatan, parting the wives of rich, obnoxious men from their coin once their husbands were in the ground. He usually left those houses with a heavier purse and a lighter conscience. Today, the reverse is true. His purse is fifty gold pieces lighter, but for the first time in a long while, his conscience feels remarkably substantial. It felt good.

"Tough indeed", he agrees softly, his voice matching Arren’s somber tone. "But I think we left her better than we found her, which feels good, in a morbid kind of way".

H stops and glances at Arren. "A question of protocol. Will Mrs Peite receive any kind of pension from the military now?".

He doesn't wait for an answer before continuing walking and adding, his eyes fixed on the street ahead. "I left her something. Tucked behind the paintings. One of the pouches of gold the Commandant sent. Don't worry, it will come out of my share". He offers a small, almost self-deprecating shrug. "If for whatever reason she doesn't get a pension, it will hopefully keep whoever she got the loan from off her back for a while, along with the earnings from the bakery of course".

"The station sounds sensible. I guess it is not somewhere I would be welcomed, or would wish to show my face. Although my face can change if needed, of course", he says with a grin. "Out of interest, do you think there might be some way to track down where they’re taking Emma. Were they bringing her to Pyorre, do you remember?".

He adjusts his satchel, his mind shifting to mapping out their downtime.

"We have a fair few days. I have some shopping of my own to do, an item I thought I couldn't afford. And I’d like to find where the officers go to drown their sorrows. I expect with a few drinks, their lips will loosen just the same as the rest, and we may overhear something of interest".

(OOC: Bryn wants to go and get that reversible coat. Possibly returning the others if he will struggle for space in his pack. He wants to know what will happen to Emma, but not really sure how to go about that. He also wants to do a bit of eavesdropping to see if he can learn anything about what is going on in the higher ranks of the military. None of this is really important enough to spend considerable time on though, so can just summarise if you like)

"I think so as well," Arren answers, then adds more quietly, after a brief hesitation, "It has left me thinking, though. About the time we have, and what we do with it. About all that time I spend sitting in a carriage, instead of doing something more meaningful." He pauses for a moment. "I don't know. Perhaps Walnuts retiring, and then seeing Mrs Peite… has shaken me a bit."

Arren soon changes the subject, turning to the matter of the pension. "Yes, she will receive one. I'm not sure how much, but there will certainly be something."

He turns with a surprised look toward Bryn when he explains he left a pouch of gold behind. "Really? I didn't notice. You are truly a stealthy one."

He then looks away, thinking about that pouch. It is a significant amount of gold—something he might have needed for himself—but after a moment, he says, "It is a thoughtful gesture. One I'd like to join. We got a generous share, and even if gold won't give her what she truly wants, it might ease that loan she mentioned."

As they begin heading toward the station, Arren considers Bryn's words. "Perhaps it would be better if I go there on my own. I can try to find out whether there's any news about Emma—if she's being transferred here or elsewhere, or if she's still in Tus. I can also take a brief look and see if the Commandant is at her usual desk. Maybe she's simply buried in work, and there's nothing to worry about." He pauses briefly. "I might even get to see the Lieutenant one last time, if he's still there."

He glances at Bryn. "You could do your shopping in the meantime."

Another brief pause.

"And then, yes—going to a tavern might give us a chance to overhear something useful. It might be best if you changed your appearance there."

(ooc: Nothing else I can think of to do during these days. So I'm okay with summarising and skipping ahead)

The majority of soldiers in Pyorre - those who would go out and drink in a pub in the evening - are the kind that watch over the city during the day, making sure that law and order are maintained. Once they finish their shift, they often switch to casual clothes, and so, it's not always clear without listening first who is a soldier among the patrons of a tavern. As many return to their families at night, they might even sit in taverns farther from the barracks. Nevertheless, not all fancy walking a long distance, and not all come from Pyorre. As such, there are still quite a few that can be found in the taverns closest to the barracks. 

And yet, one way or the other, these soldiers are the lower-ranked personnel. They don't normally know what happens with the higher-ups, and don't talk of it either way, and would certainly not have heard of Emma. In any case, when these people talk, they usually refrain from talking about their work. Maybe they're aware of civilian presence around them, or maybe they just prefer not to talk work when they're off duty. Bryn might hear something like "Hey, today I saw a..." followed by a short description of something amusing that they saw on their shift, but that's about it.

But on the fourth night, Bryn does overhear a conversation he finds interesting, between three men sitting alone at a side table. Not exactly separated from everyone else, but not sitting at one of the larger tables where many drink together, either. "... nasty wounds. Deep, cut through the armour like it wasn't even there. 'Twas a scale mail, too. Supposed to be good against these weapons." 

"Hold on," a second man interjects, "I thought you said the other group were attacked by a weapon that pierced. A rapier or something, such wounds cannot be caused by an axe! Are you saying there's more than one of those crazy bastards?" 

"So it seemed, then," answers the first, "but it definitely wasn't the case this time. No, that's an axe alright. Had I found bodies with both types of wounds in the same area, I'd assume it was a halberd or some other hybrid weapon, but I've never seen someone kill four people with a halberd, using only the pointy bit, and then three others using only the axe. Well, whatever it is, I'd rather meet neither of them. Even worse, they seem to chase down anyone who flees. One of the bodies was found more than a hundred metres away. Tenacious son of a *****."

The price remains as before. If Bryn asks for the double-sided coat on the same day, it'll be ready before the scheduled meeting. Since Bryn had only just bought the others and nothing had damaged them yet, he can return them for the full price. He wouldn't be able to return a custom-made coat, though.

Meanwhile, Arren realises he has no idea who might know of Emma's case, and he's even less likely to find anyone who knows what's going to happen with her. His best chance is probably to talk to the Commandant, but she's constantly busy. If he tries actively looking for her, he might see her occasionally, hurrying from one meeting to another. She looks like someone who has barely slept for several days, even by her own standards. When she passes by Arren, she doesn't even seem to notice him, and if Arren calls to her, it takes her several moments to notice before giving him a dismissive "Not now" and hurrying away.

If Arren tries to meet her on the fourth day, a day before the scheduled meeting, he doesn't find her at all.

The four days in Pyorre had been a bit of a blur to Bryn. While Arren chased a woman who didn't have time to exist, he had spent his coin on a coat that could turn from a sombre common grey to a vibrant merchant’s blue, returning his previously purchased fine coat in the bargain.

And he had spent his nights nursing drinks in some of the taverns Arren had pointed out as maybe having a more military clientele. For three nights, his patience had leveraged nothing of interest, but on the fourth night, the air in the room finally shifted.

He sits at a table away from the three men, hunched over a lukewarm ale. He has shifted his features slightly, using his make-up to thicken his jawline and thin his eyebrows; he looks like a tired clerk from a shipping office now. When the first man mentions the scale mail, his hand pauses mid-lift of his tankard. If Arren is with him, he raises a subtle eyebrow and surreptitiously nods in the direction of the trio. If they are not sat together, he will alert Arren to the conversation with a whisper.

An axe. And a rapier. Or a halberd used with impossible precision. Sounds familiar in its barbarity, if not its execution, compared to what Arren and I saw on the mountain road.

He waits until the second man mentions the tenacious son of a ***** before he makes his move. He sighs loudly, a sound of weary, fearful interest, and turns slightly toward their table.

"Seven dead in one incident?" he asks, his voice pitched with a nervous tremor that a bored soldier might find amusingly pathetic. "Begging your pardon, sirs, but I couldn't help but overhear. I’ve got a brother-in-law who works as a courier. You’re not saying this... axe-man is hitting the main routes now, are you?".

He leans in a little closer, lowering his voice as if afraid the walls themselves might be listening.

"Four killed with a point, three with the blade? Sounds less like a man and more like a gargantuan butcher. Tell me, did they find them near the city, or has this madness spread to the coast road or the mountain paths? I need to warn my kin if the roads are haunted by a 'tenacious' devil, hunting down anyone who runs".

When Arren spots the Commandant a few feet ahead in one of the headquarter's corridors, his concern regarding her letter eases somewhat. At least she is fine and simply overloaded with work, just as he had imagined. Though fine is clearly an overstatement.

He doesn't even open his mouth as he watches her approach and then walk past him as if he weren't there. How she even manages to get up in the morning and work through the day in that state is beyond him.

For a moment, he considers calling out to her, but he doesn't. Still, she must notice his gaze, because after a few steps she slows just enough to acknowledge him. At her dismissive "Not now" Arren simply gives a brief nod, and turns away. Empty-handed, as far as Emma is concerned—but at least he has seen the Commandant with his own eyes.

The Sergeant makes sure to gather his belongings before leaving. He still doesn't know what will happen with the rest of the equipment left in the carriage once they meet Flêche at the port. Since he can't carry everything with him, he takes only what he considers essential. The rest, they'll sort out at the docks—whether it travels with them or remains behind.

Once he meets Bryn, he'll update him on the visit to the headquarters.

Arren accompanies Bryn to the tavern each of the nights, always sitting apart in case they can overhear different conversations from across the room.

Since soldiers might not speak as freely in the presence of another soldier, he avoids wearing his uniform and instead dresses in civilian clothes: dark brown trousers and a dark olive coat over a sand-colored linen shirt.

After three nights yielding nothing, he expects little from the fourth. Perhaps that is precisely why Bryn's magically whispered message catches him completely off guard, and right in the middle of a gulp of ale ... which goes down the wrong way.

"What the f—," he chokes out under his breath, coughing as he tries to recover, more startled by the voice suddenly appearing in his head than by what it actually said.

It takes him a moment to compose himself, blinking and glancing around, before realizing what just happened.

Once he processes Bryn's message, Arren shifts in his seat and casually moves a little closer, just enough to catch the conversation at the other table without drawing attention.

More than one killer? he wonders. Or just one, using different weapons? Or a halberd?

He leans back slightly, listening more intently now, his focus fixed on the response to Bryn's question about where the attacks took place.

Remembering what Bryn explained about his magic, he silently replies: "Can you ask if anyone saw the killer? And when did these attacks happen?"

The three men are a little surprised that someone overheard them. Not that they really made an effort not to be heard. The third man, who had yet to speak, looks at the first with a blaming, cautioning face.

"Umm, no. Not exactly," the first man finally answers Bryn, choosing his words carefully. "These were two separate groups. Outside the city," he quickly adds, "one to the east, the other to the south. Several days apart. I'm a soldier, you see. I was called to the scenes to investigate. We don't have any accounts of what happened there. There are many who travel these roads, though, and most pass unharmed. Even couriers and messengers that travel alone," he stresses.

"Strangely, it didn't seem like anything was taken. So not bandits or anything like that. But they were all armed, that's all I can say. We're not sure what the motive was, either. But rest assured, we're trying to catch the culprits, and we've sent more soldiers to patrol the roads in the vicinity for the time being, to make sure everyone is safe." He pauses, looking at his companions for a few moments.

"But since it's still under investigation, we'd appreciate it if you didn't spread the rumour," the second man adds. "There's no need to scare people with stories we don't really understand yet. If you worry about your brother-in-law, ask them to stay vigilant, perhaps, but spare them the details. You see how quickly rumours spiral out of control. You heard it first-hand from us, and already thought a 'gargantuan butcher' killed seven men in one incident. Which is not what happened!" He makes sure to raise his voice slightly with the last phrase, in case any other curious ears are listening.

The men might answer a few more questions, but once Bryn concludes his questions or if they think they shared too much, they'll quickly finish their drinks and leave the tavern, each going his own way once they exit the building.

Although the previous days were sunny and warm, by the evening of the night before meeting the Commandant, clouds had begun to cover the sky, and the night was rainy and cold, with occasional lightning briefly illuminating the city, followed by rolling thunder. It rains constantly all night; the sound of raindrops on the roof, walls, and windows keeps company with all in the city.

The rain stops a little before dawn, and lightning hasn't sounded for a while. But a heavy fog falls on the city, and the streets are cold and damp. Even in this weather and so early in the morning, some still walk the streets, but almost only the unfortunate soldiers who happened to be on shift, only slightly more fortunate than those who stood in the rain all night.

((Please decide how Arren and Bryn are dressed, and what they carry with them, prior to reading the following. You don't have to list everything, just make sure you've decided in case it'd matter later.))

If they arrive at the docks on time, it doesn't take much effort to find the Commandant. She stands - in her uniform, and her long hair recently braided into one long, dark braid - near a ship that's currently being loaded before travel. It is a huge ship, probably the largest either Bryn or Arren had ever seen. Or, at least that's what they imagine, as it is hard to estimate its size with the heavy fog that makes it impossible to see both ends at once, making it all the more imposing. But either way, it seems like a beautiful ship, unmatched by Ditten ships. There's no doubt this is a Meyen ship, built for sailing the vast sea that separates Dite from Mey. 

But Commandant Nattensbarn doesn't seem to mind the ship much. She stands not far from the bridge where the dockhands carry supplies up to the ship, and she's talking to some Drow who carries a large yet empty-looking pack with him, but according to his clothes, seems neither part of the ship's crew nor one of the dockhands. It takes Bryn and even Arren a moment to recognise the former Lieutenant, Poule Tireur, without his uniform. 

If they happened to come from the side where Walnuts would see them, he would notice Arren or Bryn first and wave to catch their attention. If they happened to come from the other side, then they'll be behind him, and the Drow won't see them before they recognise the Commandant, and neither will she. In any case, he'll be happy to see both Arren and Bryn when/if they arrive. "You made it!" The Drow says. "I didn't think the Commandant would find the time to inform you, but I really didn't know how else I could contact either of you. That's my ride back home," he looks up at the boat for a moment. "Far fancier than the one I sailed on my way from Mey. You can't really see it from here, but it's got three masts! Lucky timing, I guess." He seems in high spirits, despite the weather. If anything, it looks like he enjoys the weather, the freshness of the air with every breath. "I should be departing soon, but I'm glad I got to see you all one last time before I go."

Commandant Nattensbarn, meanwhile, isn't quite as happy with the cold weather, wrapped in a thick military coat and still slightly shivering. But otherwise, she seems better than Arren had last seen her. If nothing else, she seemed to have at least gotten one full night of sleep since.