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That was a damn shame, she thought, because there was no formal party coming. Her options were now breaking out or waiting for the rest of the company to break in.and hopefully not kill anyone along the way. Whether Thomas knew it was or not, he was trying to give her a death sentence. The transition was automatic, she knew what was coming and internally turned away from it. Wordlessly, Trinan slipped backwards, putting distance between herself and the knights. She swept up her cloak as she leaped atop the table. The smokey blue overgarment went around her shoulders, the front latch still open. She took one guiding step forward, and jumped across the circle towards Wallace and his captor, landing again atop part of the round table. The investigator stopped abruptly, still not producing a weapon but instead turning to face the larger crowd. The rules specifically stated that warning must be given before the application of force against civil bodies, and splitting hairs over what a bunch of knights were was beyond her, for it was the only restraint she had. Furious green eyes locked with Thomas, and she spoke quickly. "Call back your men, or," She tried desperately to recall the charter over the pulse pounding in the back of her head calling for blood, "I will apply due force to protect the sovereignty of Keilaudrin and its rightful king Bard Urien II as is my charter as an executor of the peace." Trinan jerked her head and spat, her distaste for the jargon leaving a poor taste after the words. She looked back to the knights, eyes now calm and searching among them as she gave the short version. "I'm not worth everyone in this room."
The investigator frowned as Thomas delivered his list of concerns. He needed to be brought up to speed slowly, he'd made it clear. "Arcartus, and Arcartus. I used a key to one of the outer doors, broke locks where I needed to," she reached behind her, producing a key identical to the one issued to the council for emergency access from her bag and tossing it onto the table. "And I am here to investigate the death of Lexine Tristan, which raised claims against me and my contemporaries." She finished her laundry list, and her voice sank from deadpan back to the dark tone she usually spoke with. Whatever he said about not wanting to hurt her, she hadn't lived so long buying off on talk like that. She too heard the knights coming a long ways off. She had to have more trust for Thomas than immediately assuming that he was only buying time, but ultimately it would be inconsequential how many knights were in the room. "Your post sent word of the death days ago," she said, "And since I've arrived in Mullen, the capital guard has been trying to interfere. I'm not here needlessly. The only option was to go to you."
"Then stop playing games," The investigator snapped, taking a step towards Thomas even as he walked towards her. The leery grin of the man at the wall told her what she needed to know, especially after the requests he'd made. The palace guard had known about their entrance of palace grounds early, the Order disjointed and acting on its own. Whether it was Sir Thomas or someone else, there were people that didn't want her leaving the tower. Whether it was due to death or detainment, made no difference to her. It had been a mistake to come alone and assume she could handle the talking. "I'm helping you, and I've explained everything. If you can't sit and listen, I am going to leave. I want to take the writs with me, then." She announced her intentions clearly, standing idle and waiting for how measured the knight's response would be. Walking out unopposed was unlikely, considering the man seemed to be willfully ignoring any attempt at parley. The rules were the rules, however, and she could not draw blood here.
Her gaze followed Sir Jason out of the door, sadness and the her glaring eyes narrowed with the first sign of actual frustration from the investigator. Five plus three was pushing the number of people she was comfortable standing around. What she could be grateful for, though, was that Thomas had come around eventually and found his own roundabout way of answering her question. They didn't have much time left. Without hesitation or even an attempt at subtlety, she turned her back on Thomas and started to walk back towards her cloak, bundled on the table down the way. She talked as she walked, delivering her questioning in short order. "Thank you. Where are the documents recovered from her body? You've been swindled, so have we. There are people who need to see the fake writs." She stopped abruptly, out of arms reach of the cloak for now, and faced Thomas. "I am going to clear my comrade's names. With all said, do you understand your situation, Thomas Morgan?" It was as far as discipline let her go. She wasn't about to let herself lose it over being strong-armed.
Nothing changed as Thomas delivered his threat. For only a moment, she considered outright ignoring Thomas' demands but a cursory glare around at the other two knights revealed to her that she did not have enough rope on her to detain everyone in the room securely. The investigator watched the man set his sword on the table with a blank stare. The sword was still within arm's reach, but she wasn't particularly off put by the knight's caution. She sighed, looking glumly to the floor before locking eyes with Thomas. There wasn't much she felt would convince them to keep their hands on their side of the room, but she'd start what what she actually knew. "Sure, here," she said, reaching behind her back into a bag clipped onto her belt and producing a circular emblem, woven of fine fabric and black. She tossed her emblem with a flick of the wrist, and it fluttered onto the table closer to Thomas, revealed the icon on its face side. Eight simplified, white stitched swords, arranged in an arc across the top and all pointing straight down. "I am Maria Trinan," she said, unable to stop herself from chuckling at the corpse's expense, "And I am alive." The summation of her peaceful reasons, but making threats wasn't appropriate.
Wallace was ready to continue with Thomas before the man struck him across the face. Reflexively, he staggered backwards, locking eyes on the offender with a look of more disappointment than anger. He began to back away from the trio, slowly approaching one of the walls of the room where he would at least have some buffer space between the two parties. Holding his sore jaw, he resigned to simply watching the festivities as he'd promised Thomas. He'd use that time to find his way out of the Tower. There was always one, it really only depended on how much he was willing to give up.
Attention had shifted over to her. She watched the older man disengaged from the conversation, and followed his creep towards the wall out of the corner of her eye. Thomas' remark fell on deaf ears, but his question caused her eyes to snap back over to the knight and his compatriots, where they danced between the three waiting for some untoward movement. It took a moment to gather the words, for a while it might have even looked like she opted not to reply, but eventually the girl spoke up. "I am here to investigate the death of Maria Trinan." She started walking forwards again, closing on the three with slow, calculated steps and watching for a reaction. The investigator halted, still far from the men but no longer needing to raise her voice to be heard. "I have questions too, Thomas Morgan. How much time can you spare?" She nodded her head towards Wallace as she asked. That man was also on the shortlist but what little diplomacy she understood was telling her that Canti was not coming with them at the current.
Attention had shifted over to her. She watched the older man disengaged from the conversation, and followed his creep towards the wall out of the corner of her eye. Thomas' remark fell on deaf ears, but his question caused her eyes to snap back over to the knight and his compatriots, where they danced between the three waiting for some untoward movement. It took a moment to gather the words, for a while it might have even looked like she opted not to reply, but eventually the girl spoke up. "I am here to investigate the death of Maria Trinan." She started walking forwards again, closing on the three with slow, calculated steps and watching for a reaction. The investigator halted, still far from the men but no longer needing to raise her voice to be heard. "I have questions too, Thomas Morgan. How much time can you spare?" She nodded her head towards Wallace as she asked. That man was also on the shortlist but what little diplomacy she understood was telling her that Canti was not coming with them at the current.
Wallace slowly stood up, wobbling uncertainly on his feet. The jostles of the night were getting to him already, frail as he was. The corpse still hurt to look at, and he turned his back on Lexine and the newcomer to stare back at Thomas and his assistants. "You can murder her too right? This time, we can sweep it under the rug without Cole and his theatrics," he smiled broadly even as he accused Thomas. His voice didn't have a hint of pleading in it as he suggested darkness to the man. The actual results of covering things up further were hazy, even to him, but that was the way he liked it. "The truth is, you're the one with secrets to keep, Morgan." Ones he hadn't quite found for himself yet. As he raced through his bluff, he thought over to the palace and wondered what was happening there. Gareth hadn't come running along like he half hoped and the nosey Lyoki who'd found the body the first night was absentee as well. It only suggested that the Order had beat him on both punches.
As he spoke, the girl at the far end of the table started to make her way around. Slow, heavy footsteps as she left Lexine's body behind. Her hands came up to her throat unfastening the buckle at the neck of her gray-blue cloak. The cloak was tossed aside, flying with the arc of a much heavier garment and crashing down on the table's surface with a series of vaguely metallic thuds. Underneath, she was apparently unarmed, sporting a buttoned shirt and pants worn over her boots, the same styling as the set that had accompanied Lexine. Silence prevailed for the stranger, and she stopped halfway down the room to continue watching the quartet of men entering the room with a quizzical, evaluating glare. Something far more important than her business was happening, that alone was clear.
As he spoke, the girl at the far end of the table started to make her way around. Slow, heavy footsteps as she left Lexine's body behind. Her hands came up to her throat unfastening the buckle at the neck of her gray-blue cloak. The cloak was tossed aside, flying with the arc of a much heavier garment and crashing down on the table's surface with a series of vaguely metallic thuds. Underneath, she was apparently unarmed, sporting a buttoned shirt and pants worn over her boots, the same styling as the set that had accompanied Lexine. Silence prevailed for the stranger, and she stopped halfway down the room to continue watching the quartet of men entering the room with a quizzical, evaluating glare. Something far more important than her business was happening, that alone was clear.
Wallace crashed through the door, losing his balance and rolling sloppily over the floor. He finally came to rest in a heap on the floor. Trembling, the man brought himself to set up, and could only stare at what he was seeing. On top of the segment of the circular table furthest from the door, the seat reserved for the commander, a black bag lay across the desk. It was as large as a person, and the association immediately brought into his mind what the bag was. From where he sat, the unmistakeable toe segments of two black boots were visible propped upon the bag. Instinctively, he knew who it was. As the door wobbled and eventually settled fully open, it revealed somebody setting in the chair of the commander, ungraciously propped back and resting their legs. As the Knights of the Thistle appeared in the doorway, one of the legs drew back and kicked the bag, turning it on the table and letting its contents spill. Lexine Tristan fell from the bag, legs first. The corpse fell and stuck its back against the desk, the dead woman's head limply faced to the door. Even from across the room, with the damaged state of Lexine's head, the resemblance was immediately apparent when the girl in the chair stood up. The same sharp face, the only difference the thin white line of a scar crossing the living Lexine's face, under both eyes and across the bridge of the nose like some macabre artist had taken the time to get the mark right.
Feril had no trouble processing what the man was saying to her, the problem was that none of it made any sense. What could have possibly happened in the span of a few hours that made the entire palace guard the enemy and the Knights of the Thistle suddenly her sympathetic allies? Whatever, she was being told to run and she wanted that. Her tenure as a foot courier had been short but it'd been a lot more fun than the horse beat. The red-clad girl snatched up the rope in both hands and with only a timid not to Sir Pyper started running away down the wall away from the two men. No longer her problem. The girl quickly disappeared into the night down the wall, in search of a place she could fix the rope and climb down. Finding her horse and making use of a free paycheck would come next.
The man the wall smiled as he watched Feril run away down the wall. It wasn't an explanation the Letty would be particularly happy with but finding a courier in a city wasn't something beyond his section. Satisfied with the outcome, he sheathed his sword and was about to slip down the wall when Pyper began to talk to him again. A couple questions. He was utterly surprised to still be being called a guard but decided to make the most of it. "An internal issue means securing the perimeter all the same. Nobody gets in or out without the blessing of the King. A lot of people got called inside recently, so as you can see the perimeter guard is stretched pretty thin. Didn't even get regulation armor," he said, chuckling at the circumstances.
Feril had no trouble processing what the man was saying to her, the problem was that none of it made any sense. What could have possibly happened in the span of a few hours that made the entire palace guard the enemy and the Knights of the Thistle suddenly her sympathetic allies? Whatever, she was being told to run and she wanted that. Her tenure as a foot courier had been short but it'd been a lot more fun than the horse beat. The red-clad girl snatched up the rope in both hands and with only a timid not to Sir Pyper started running away down the wall away from the two men. No longer her problem. The girl quickly disappeared into the night down the wall, in search of a place she could fix the rope and climb down. Finding her horse and making use of a free paycheck would come next.
The man the wall smiled as he watched Feril run away down the wall. It wasn't an explanation the Letty would be particularly happy with but finding a courier in a city wasn't something beyond his section. Satisfied with the outcome, he sheathed his sword and was about to slip down the wall when Pyper began to talk to him again. A couple questions. He was utterly surprised to still be being called a guard but decided to make the most of it. "An internal issue means securing the perimeter all the same. Nobody gets in or out without the blessing of the King. A lot of people got called inside recently, so as you can see the perimeter guard is stretched pretty thin. Didn't even get regulation armor," he said, chuckling at the circumstances.
"No, I am not ready to die," Wallace stated as the procession marched out. He kept his eyes to the floor, watching each tile go by beneath them as the group made fair pace to the Tower of the Thistle. Their path was clear, each group of guards seeming to have sloughed off to some duty or another. As they paced the empty corridors, he couldn't help but whistle a merry little sea-tune, one he'd heard only that day. With each step they grew closer, he found himself excited. For all he knew, all he saw, Thomas had in fact put out one of his eyes. Poetic justice had ensued but he thought Thomas was doing very well for one of his condition. What lay beyond the walls was a mystery, and of course the Tower was the place Thomas had chosen. Slowly, his whistling died, he couldn't keep the pace. He doubted there would even be words for him to say when they got there, he certainly didn't intend to talk to Thomas out of bounds. It wasn't out of spite or a need to withhold information: that was what would make the man do what needed to be done.
Feril slowly emerged from the stairwell as she was bid walking out to see that Sir Pyper had found a rope and a peculiar stranger had joined them on the walls, quite on the battlements. He stood there simply watching and waiting with an expectant look on his face like the actors were moving too slowly on the stage. "What do you expect me to do with that?" Feril asked, looking between the rope and the battlements with a slowly growing dismay. It wasn't as if there was much more she could go through that day, but scaling the palace walls wasn't something she particularly wanted to do. Waiting until the long way became available was a much more attractive action, but she wasn't in a position to argue. Decided on at least hearing him out, her eyes settled on Pyper, who seemed more than at odds with their new guest. The danger didn't quite register, even though they were both armed. The other man looked harmless, postured up on the stones.
Feril slowly emerged from the stairwell as she was bid walking out to see that Sir Pyper had found a rope and a peculiar stranger had joined them on the walls, quite on the battlements. He stood there simply watching and waiting with an expectant look on his face like the actors were moving too slowly on the stage. "What do you expect me to do with that?" Feril asked, looking between the rope and the battlements with a slowly growing dismay. It wasn't as if there was much more she could go through that day, but scaling the palace walls wasn't something she particularly wanted to do. Waiting until the long way became available was a much more attractive action, but she wasn't in a position to argue. Decided on at least hearing him out, her eyes settled on Pyper, who seemed more than at odds with their new guest. The danger didn't quite register, even though they were both armed. The other man looked harmless, postured up on the stones.
Relief crept over him as the boss decided to hand back the money. Rarden lowered his hand and smiled faintly at their good fortune. They were moored, fed, and apparently they'd even picked a fair port for their escapades. The faraway world had always been to him, a place of extreme grit and danger and their inexperienced selves had wandered into friendly company and cheap food. His musings were utterly quelled when he noticed the wings slowly beginning to protrude from the woman, now introduced as Arisu. Of course, he'd heard of them before, but seeing one up close was a rarity. Ever concerned, he caught himself staring from the corner of his eyes and stopped, fixating on Louis and wondering how he planned on introducing himself. If their incident in the dock had proven anything, it's that maybe the world wasn't ready for the 'Caesar' thing, especially since even his crew member wasn't.
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