Field Marshall Croft pushes a wisp of metal grey hair off her face and nods. "I hear they found Verik's body on one of the ships at Eel's End. I'm guessing that was your handiwork?"

You are all once again seated around the table in the inner room of the Guard's headquarters. Croft looks exhausted as she listens to what you wish to tell her. Or at least more exhausted since the last time you saw her. The marshall waves her hand at a small chest. "I added a small bonus for dealing with Devargo. He's been a thorn in our paw for some time."

She lifts the cup in front of her and drinks some wine. "I'm impressed with your work. I wanted to kow if you would be willing to handle another matter for me. This one is...delicate. It has to do with the death of the King. It needs to be handled quickly. And quietly."

The timing of her request seems odd. Just a couple of hours ago you had ransacked the offices of All World's Meat. Someone had gotten there ahead of you. More than likely Malder's associates. They seem to have been looking for valuables. The shiny kind. They left behind the letters Malder had mentioned. Malder had spat and said, "Probably cos they can't read." He seemed upset that his croonies had beaten him to the punch in looting Verik's quarters.

The letters were from a Patience. You presume it may have been the same woman referred to in the letter you found in Devargo's cabin. Verik's letters contain mostly what you would expect. Odes of love. Salacious details. But there are some interesting comments on the royal family. The late King is referred to as a doddering old bag. The Queen as a scheming little social climber.

This Patience seems to have details of the royal family one would expect only a confidant to have. She comments on the Queen's choices in dress on such and such a particular day for example. From the quality of the paper and the fineness of the penmanship, you would guess Patience was a noble. 'Patience' however seems to be a nom de plume. None of you can recall ever hearing of a noble woman by that name.

There is one passage that does seem relevant. Patience writes ...the Queen continues to cast eyes on that Champion of hers. That Sabina is rumored to be quite the swordsman. I can only guess what kind of sword Sabina employs in her service to the Queen. Later in the same letter, Patience says, It is as I told you my Love. The Queen is furthering the interest of any woman her fancy catches. That awful Dospen woman was recently named Minister of the Exchequer. There were several men much more qualified. But the Queen believes in the supremacy of the female. I tell you. There is no future in service to the Royals. At least if you are a man.

You snap out of your woolgathering as Croft sets her cup down. "The King's killer has been named. Before he died, he commisioned a portrait. A young woman named Trinia Sabor won the commision. Apparently a guard at the palace confessed that this young woman engaged him in a plot to poison the King. I have some concerns." Croft scowls at the table top a moment. "This guard's confession was extracted under torture. And in a very public setting. Many nobles were present and word is already spreading throught the streets. Honestly, I don't know what the Queen is thinking. I already have reports of worked up citizens forming civic mobs to hunt this girl down. The girl will be lynched bfore she can stand trial. I have a problem with that. We don't need another series of riots. And the girl should stand in the docket to answer these charges. That is where you come in." She looks around the table at you. "Before this has a chance to get out of hand, I want you to find and apprehend Trinia Sabor. Bring her here. I'll make sure she stands trial."

Vaddis looks about the room at the others. "I will aid you, the others speak for themselves though."

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Tarrov sat back in his chair, his face impassive as he listened to Kroft give her spiel.  He wasn’t too happy with what they had learned about the queen.  He didn’t really care about her sexual proclivities; gods knew he’d met all kinds in the entertainment business.  But it was never good when anyone in authority allowed those proclivities to affect their staffing decision, and that went double (or perhaps triple) for a royal.

And since their entire group was made up of men, it seemed doubtful that they’d have the kind of inside track to royal favor for which Tarrov had hoped.  He sighed.  Why can’t things ever be easy, he complained silently, allowing himself to indulge in a brief bout of self-pity.

He looked back at Kroft as she talked.  He wondered exactly how straightforward the Marshal was being with them, given what they now knew about the queen.  He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  They needed to watch themselves, or they could end up in a precarious situation.  A very precarious situation indeed.

If they weren’t already there.

Tarrov didn’t like where things seemed to be heading.  A poisoned king.  An extracted confession.  And a girl on the run who might or might not have had anything to do with the poisoning at all.  A girl who might be torn to bits by an angry mob to further the inscrutable interests of nobles who had spread her name among the masses.  Tarrov drummed his fingers on the chair.  It offended his sense of justice.  Those in authority shouldn’t be allowed to abuse it like that.

Tarrov sat up.  “I’m in as well,” he said, nodding at Vaddis.  “But I think the rest of our group will be concerned with, how can I put this, remuneration.  What exactly is it you are offering for our services?”

OOC:  How much of a bonus are we talking here?
Also, what happened to Malder?  Did he take off for parts unknown, or . . . ?

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