Epsir

When the Flames Die

Wallace shrugged at Gareth's question, but knew better than to leave his explanation at that. "No, the Order tends to keep their distance from people like me. As the lauded heroes and thwarters of many assassination plots, they are afforded certain respect and I'm sure their integrity is part of their success. I'm sure you've been made familiar with how they handle investigations of the Order themselves. That said, to my memory one Sir Jason Hoyt is the current postmaster. Finding him would be a start." The look he'd been reminded him of a man best identified by a pout face. The red headed blue tie was still out there somewhere, probably doing what he'd been told to do. It was ironic that the Order was proving more of a worry than any of the usual suspects. There would still be the public response once the news of the Billfold spread, he himself had partially seen to that by bringing it up as evidence. He was getting distracted again. "Shall we?" He asked, standing away from the table. Secrecy or no they chose to make their home the Tower of the Thistle, with any luck it was as simple as a visit from the regent. Whether or not the man had handled the parcel would make much more clear about the nature of their killer.

When the Flames Die

"Few would seek Redwyne's death. He was an honorable, predictable man." Even Wallace himself hadn't bothered to consider the man. He was well respected, enough to make the man nearly untouchable, and bar his devotion to protecting the king utterly uninvolved in the political quagmire of the court. The court itself was suspect, half of them had opposed the naming of the new king and only been silenced, perhaps not converted. The difference between him and them, however, was knowing the truth and wanting rid of it. "By the time the news broke of Lexine's death, Redwyne was already dead, which rules out the possibility of it being a retaliation. The discreteness of Redwyne's assassination also separates it from the publicity stunt that was Karl Leid's death." He stopped a moment to gather his words, and discern what to divulge. "I hesitate to call them unrelated, but I see two distinct plans at work here, one of them most certainly internal to this palace." As he spoke, the scanning of his eyes stopped and instead his eyes snapped over to and settled upon Gareth. "More than any Arcarti plot, or what have you, the people here are what make me worry. There are only a few people with enough power in this capital to simply snap their fingers and make Redwyne Cole die. You've probably met half the list in your time at the palace. You're correct, however. After Sir Thomas' outburst the only real evidence we have left is the lethal parcel itself. The postmaster of the Order would have handled it, which is precisely why I know nothing about the affair other than that Cole is dead."

When the Flames Die

Wallace nodded slowly, acknowledging the need to cut to the chase. "I'd like you to act as an investigator, of sorts. There's been plenty of talk about this investigation and I'm sure you've heard plenty of speculation about what really happened last night, but there's been painfully little done by both the order and the government proper to search for any sort of tangible fact. It's no secret to anyone trying to do us harm, these aristocrats do things... the old way." He could only imagine the expressions the rest of the council would be wearing when this particular news got back to them. He sat back a little, crossing his arms and looking slowly around the room. Uncertainty dashed him, he didn't know if he should be feeling worried or relieved and the sensation was utterly nostalgic. The trenches, the sort where it was more dangerous to get lost on the trail than climb out and get away from the fighting. Whether he enjoyed it or not, it was unavoidable, some of his most valuable staff had been lost. "But I'm not sending anyone on a snipe hunt through Mullen... yet, maybe we will need to start in the streets at some point, but for now my concern is the palace. Lexine's death meant nothing, because even after she was dead, someone had Redwyne Cole assassinated, and in no simple way. The ideological gap between dropping a random guest off of the roof, and getting a serpent through palace mail is suspicious to me. What do you make of that?"

---

"Wait, what?" Feril said, voice rising with surprise and the very beginnings of despair. She said it to the door, however, because before she could act Thomas was gone. The courier took a step towards the door, hand outstretched in a desperate bid that came far too late to prevent its closing. Even long after Thomas had departed she could still hear the metallic clank of its locking mechanism turning closed, repeating and repeating. Now, it was nothing but gray walls for however long, not even a promise of the length of her detainment had been given. She'd been right the entire time to suspect them, because they'd gone and done it. Before the grief could set in, she was angry. Feril kicked one of her boots across the room, it was the only outlet she had inside her new little box of a home. Unsatisfied and powerless to change that, she retired back to sitting on her jacket with only an exasperated sigh. Hating them for doing their job would be wrong, that was the same logic that she and all messengers rode through life under the shelter of, but she was close.

When the Flames Die

"I say that my hours as a regent are few, and before the veil of obscurity is thrown over this whole sordid affair by the Thistle Knights, I want to give the people the truth behind what happened here." Wallace said, stopping to smirk at the melodrama of it all before taking a seat at the table. His demeanor relaxed as he was seated, and as he moved to the actual topic at hand the man rested folded hands on the table. "I hear a lot of things about people, but more often than not rumors are just that. As I said last night, for what little any of us have, you likely know the most about what they were up to. I mean, of course, being one of the few in proximity to Karl Leid." That wasn't entirely what he was concerned with, Gareth had also seen both him and Leid speak to Lexine. "I will warn you right now to be cautious of people and groups suddenly taking interest in you, and with that said," He chuckled, "I have taken interest in you. I fear I won't be questioning you about Karl as I said, instead I would like to ask your help. With the guard mobilized to keep the city in standstill, among other things, I'm short of hands with the minds to find answers."

When the Flames Die

"No, the incoming parcels ledger is in Tona. The letter didn't even have a name on it, I wanted to see if the postmaster here had received any notice on it. There was a stipend handed in with the letter for swift delivery, and the only instructions on record, which is the part that I'm given, were to make sure the package made it to Mullen in time for the coronation." She hated to give that answer, but it was the only truth. No doubt, without a receipt they'd be a little frustrated but that was where she had been trying to deliver a cryptic letter. Her only hope had been the postmaster how simply seemed to not exist at this point. She sighed as Thomas issued his next order, and stood up to comply. She emptied the pockets on her lightly colored pants, two horse biscuits and a handful of coins that she left on the floor in exchange for her jacket, which she ran through the pockets one at a time. Nothing but gritty traces of black-red powder in one pocket. The jacket returned to the ground, and she pulled off her boots one at a time, wobbling as she kept balance. Both were empty. Feril stood by frowning and waiting to hear where exactly this new line of thought was going.

---

Things were slowing to a simmer, finally. A quick walk back to his study had left him some time to ponder, even more, what was next. Most of all, he needed to find Thomas at some point and get a handle on what exactly the Order was doing in all of this mess. It would have looked out of character to anyone who knew him but he even indulged himself in some petulance. This was supposed to be his work, and then everything simply went wrong. Perhaps... the best course of action was to simply keep going as if nothing had happened. He returned to the great hall, finding that lunch had began for the day. The Lyoki congregation had found the new arrival and Gareth had returned. With a smile, he strode forward towards the youth, figuring he'd meet with the loner first. "Mister Harker," the regent called out, wondering if he'd even be remembered from the brief meeting they had. Holding the reins on the guard meant hearing and knowing far too much and even he sometimes got his information lines crossed. "Might I bother you a moment?"

When the Flames Die

"The package was unmarked and only the secretary at the recipient office would be able to identify the sender. Uh..." Her mind blanked, the answers had been so easy to call up before she was actually being questioned. Feril twisted in her seat for a moment, nervously attempting to recall what she knew. "It was a proxy to us, the recipient office was in Lachne. It came out of the country a few days ago to the office I work at it in Tona... that's in Kastovetia," she recollected, unsure how far the knight expected her to go. "I'm from North Suveia, though," She added quickly, turning her head a bit it in acknowledgement of the light red shade of her hair. "And, I work with Sharpe and Millsworth's Courier Company, they try not to let the field hands like me know too much about what we're sending. It's respectful, I guess," She didn't sound so convinced herself, but she felt the need to defend her company's practices, as if that would help her in her current predicament.

When the Flames Die

The slumbering courier awoke with a start as the heavy door swung open, falling backwards and scrambling to catch herself with both hands. It left her looking up at the man who had just entered. Slowly her, eyes focused and the nonsensical blur of gray came together to form the semi-familiar visage of Thomas. She smiled weakly as he shared his little anecdote, "Y-yeah," she replied, equal parts groggy and unsure how to reply to the man. Pushing off of her hands, she sat back up and continued to watch Thomas with a guarded, distrusting squint. She waited for the questioning to begin. There was no other reason for the man to be back. The questioning itself wasn't what bothered her, she knew all the answers and could figure the questions they'd have for a messenger. The problem was what followed the questioning, because few were looking out for the rights of a foreign messenger and badge of honor or not she still very much relished the thought of leaving the country in a timely manner.

When the Flames Die

Yeah everyone has kind of run off to their own corners but once we bring the prisoner population down things should get running.

When the Flames Die

Wallace returned Noah's smile and watched the prince leave for the tables. "It is my privilege." It was a shame really, the nobles without a direct interest in the crown's affairs had bled out of the palace in short order. Now, they were arriving again almost as if to spite him. That was ignoring the latest escapades around the capital, slowly filtering back to him from his remaining eyes. The boy's words came back to him one last time as he turned to leave, it'd been a while since anyone had called him honest. That reminded him, he had some loose threads to tie off. He left the prince and the great hall for the palace corridors. The prince's arrival was turning out to be a valuable reminder that at some point the king would need to be returned, regardless of what opposition the Order would put up against him. To make that growing conflict worse, he could no longer count upon Redwyne and the stability of his administration.

When the Flames Die

Wallace's lips curled ever so slightly in a frown as the two stormed out, and he squinted to ascertain who it was although he had made guesses when he entered the room. "It's usually worse. Politics is dreary business but it makes the world turn," he chuckled at his own remark. "It's a rare day we get to hold a true celebration here, and for what it's worth the people put their all into it." Filler words as he considered the strings being pulled and set in the great hall. The smile on his face was slowly becoming more and more genuine as he tallied the repercussions of Thomas' handiwork. It was miraculous, he thought, that Lexine could do so much work even in death. Her counterpart had a lot to live up to, when he resurfaced. Recalling his position, he cleared his throat lightly and explained what the two had seen, in his own words. "That is, however, exactly what I was talking about. There is conspiracy afoot, and I'm sure everyone in this room has their own account and explanation for what happened. My advice to you is to stay well clear of it if you can. As regent, I cannot set aside friends or foes in looking for the aggressors."