It was a short walk from the Fabled and Forgotten bookstore to the very center of the village. Though normally open to the public, the Whitewater compound had been sealed to all visitors for 2 weeks as the chaos increased and it might be difficult to gain entry. A 10-foot wall surrounded the entire compound, with gates in the east and west walls. The gates were barred, makeshift platforms behind each gate had been erected and three guards are on watch at any given time.

As soon as your party came closer, with clear intent on heading straight for one of the gates, the men leveled their crossbows and yelled a warning, "This area is off-limits to anyone for the foreseeable future! Do not come closer, or you will be shot at! Turn around and be on your way!" The guards made a competent, but slightly nervous impression. Maybe it was just a matter of the entire situation in Dimayen which was getting worse and worse, or it had something to do with the sheer presence of Zhira, Rictor, Qvan, Aryk and Vahid. They were not commoners or regular visitors who you refuse access.

---

Everyone with some knowledge of the regional customs will know that gaining an audience with people of a rank as high as that of the Whitewater family usually requires an invitation first. Unless you are of an equal or higher rank, of course.

Rictor drew up short, a muscle in his jaw pulsing as it clenched and unclenched. The city was in a crisis. Now was the time when the gates should be thrown open, the wisdom of the rulers available to all, their calming presence keeping order, their dutiful retainers providing aid. Instead the rulers hid while the city rotted.

There was an object in his pack. Small and round. A link in a chain. A symbol. A crown of iron. Sometimes it felt heavier than a mountain.

His hand strayed towards the enchanted neck of his haversack but he forced it back to his side. That was another man. Another life.

Instead he leaned towards Zhira and flashed her a wink.

"You go through the proper channels. I'll back you up if you need me." He said.

He took a step back. And then another. In the worried bustle of the street a tall, hunched man in a kafiyeh hustled between Rictor and the gates. He was only out of sight for a fraction of a second but when the man had passed the ranger was simply...gone.

---

I'll use Hide in Plain Sight to make a stealth check and move up to the walls, I got a flat 60.

Then I'll try to climb up, but most likely I'll bounce around like a six year old trying to reach the kitchen counter. Got a 16 and a 21. Figured I'd give it two shots since the first one failed so badly. If failing blows Rick's stealth he'll slink back to the group, if it doesn't then he'll just keep trying until he gets it. He's got a +15.

Zhira was left perplexed by Rictor's comment, then frowned once he disappeared. After a moment, she shook her head, calling over the others as she said:

"My best idea is to go back to where we set up the healing house, and then Master Qvan can speak with the commander of the guard, explain that we found intelligence we think might help, and that we would like to present it to the rulers personally, and see how that goes. Anybody can think of anything else?"

She glanced at Vahid and Aryk, in case their different background as a priest and monk respectively might give them another idea on how best to approach getting an audience with the city's rulers.

It took Rictor a few tries before he finally managed to get his armored body over the high walls of the Whitewater Compound. It wasn't his best showing of skill, and there were certainly a few noises that would have caught the attention of alert guards if any were nearby, but luckily the two gates to the east and west remained the only places where such precautions were taken.

The main building had five different entrances, some looking more official than others, and all of them were closed. There was one larger secondary structure, as well as several tents for the slaves who worked here. The marble stronghold of the whitewater clan also sheltered a sprawling courtyard. Vibrant plants grew here, heavily laden with fruit and blossoms. At the center lay a freshwater spring whose crystalline water laps at the surrounding soil. The ground there was covered in a layer of smooth pebbles.

Among the lush vegetation the shapes of two enormous feline creatures could be seen, lazily laying on the ground or lapping water from the spring. A closer look would reveal them to be desert tigers, their massive bodies measuring more than 16 feet in length. Even though the looked somewhat docile and trained to behave, any unwary intruder might be in for a rude welcoming.

---

Where exactly do you want to go, Rictor?

Addendum: Forgot the coordinates this time, but hope you can simply describe where exactly you want to head as well.

Rictor managed to turn his tumble into the interior wall into a splay footed landing on all fours. Bruising to the ego, but thankfully not to the bones. Perhaps his embarrassment would help to keep him hidden as he reddened to roughly the color of desert sandstone.

He quickly scuttled forward to take shelter against the smooth marble of the inner building.

Now his senses were those of a stalking predator. His ears pricked for tiny sounds. Each step was a masterwork of footing and carefully shifted weight. His eyes darted about like restless fledglings. When he heard the low rumble and languorous lapping of the guard tigers he shifted his position to remain upwind of them.

He carefully circumnavigated the interior of the wall, getting a feel for the place. Were he alone he would have ventured within the alabaster walls of the compound itself, but if he were caught it could seriously hamper his friend's ability to gain admittance. Instead he crept to a hidden spot in the thicket near the slave's tents.

He watched their comings and goings for a short while, waiting for his opportunity. He was patient, and only made his move when a lone slave was about some errand or other, without nearby guards to see or hear.

"Hssst! Over here!" He called just above a whisper, poking his head out of the underbrush.

His belly clenched as he waited to see whether they would scream or raise the alarm. To aid their decision he did two things. With one hand he beckoned gently towards himself. With the other he held up a sapphire the size of a thumb.

---

Rick will take a turn around and wind up near B18, which I assume is the slave tents. He'll use underbrush for cover if there is any or the buildings and his chamelion ring if there isn't. I also got really lucky on a diplomacy check to keep his contact from raising the alarm right away, if he's actually able to get someone alone in a convenient way. Got a 30 on the check, nat 20!.

Aryk sighed when he realized that Rictor had disappeared.  He hoped he wasn't going off somewhere on his own, getting into trouble.  Instead he turned back to Zhira as she asked her question.  he pursed his mouth for a second.

"Ideally, we would use the proper channels and request an audience.  That said, given what we have discovered, combined with the fact that despite all the time we have been here, with Master Qvan no less, they have not extended us an invitation, makes my gut say that they don't seem to be very interested in meeting with us.  I hope I am wrong though; as what that would mean for the inhabitants here in general & our man in particular is not good news."

He sighed.  Sometimes it was easy, sometimes, like now, it was not.

"However, they already know we are here & why.  I don't think we lose anything by attempting the normal, legal channels first.  Perhaps doing so, even in vain, may reveal more to us anyway."

Qvan agreed with the reading that Zhira had made of the magical auras. Only a thief would have had a benefit in relieving the sword with an illusion. A very gifted and resourceful thief, do not only wanted the artefact, but also needed his larceny to remain a secret for long as possible. It could be years until the guardians of the sword actually thought to touch it and check the it was real...

Before leaving the bookstore, Qvan gave Rictor a hand to get the bodies out. All of them were lined outside, apart for the macabre trophy he had kept in the form of a six inch jackal faced cloth puppet. The wizards resumed his huge draconic shape seemingly oblivious to the effect such an apparition may have on the citizens. Possibly nothing better or worse than seeing five adventurers dragging bodies of the bookstore in the first place. Blue dragons are notoriously good at burrowing, something the old professor wrote extensively about in the second volume of his Draconomicon. He made just a demonstration of that, digging in less than a minute a common grave that would hold demons and ghuls alike, quickly covered in four feet of sand and forgotten about. His massive tail rammed the earth to conceal the horrid tomb.
  “There you go. I’ve been told it is in good taste to not leave demonic corpse behind oneself.”

---

At the Whitewaters compound, the wizard was not exactly surprised to find closed doors. The local ruling class had long disappointed, and this was in keeping with what he thought he already knew. Despite his ever changing shape, the tall old man with characteristic moustache was hardly inconspicuous or mistakable for someone else. It was conceivable that the local guard would not recognise him, but if the person in charge knew he was waiting to be seen, they would be foolish not to let him at least ask for an appointment.

He remembered however that in small towns, feigning reference to the local authorities could go a long way. Acting as if one was summoned rather than requesting an audience was an elegant way out a tricky situation. At least he thought it would be.

  “There must be a mistake!” he commenced, taking a step forward and resting on his staff.
  “The Whitewaters have summoned the local scholars to assist with the crisis. That must include yours truly, Qvan Ibn Hamid, professor  and erudite in maladies and plagues. My three assistants, including the celebrated healer Master Vahid, are guests of the Whitewaters.”
 “Lower your weapons and we shall forget this fresh welcome.”

His last comment aimed to give everyone an opportunity to the faux pas, and subtly gave the guards an ultimatum to not let escalate with a clearly superior group. He also made it clear that the situation was thousands above the pay grade of the crossbow wielding guard, and that the conversation should carry on with someone more qualified.

---

diplomacy 35

Seven tents hidden in the back of the compound were crowded with humble bunks for the Whitewaters’ rotating stock of slaves. The Whitewaters ran a disciplined household, with rich rewards and harsh punishments. Rictor could see that most of the surviving slaves bore at least a few scars on their arms and backs. Furthermore, it seemed that about half of the tents were empty and have stayed this way for several days at least.

During this time of the day all of the slaves were busy within the main building and Rictor had to wait for some 15 tense minutes before one young, dark-skinned woman came hurrying across the yard to fetch something from one of the tents. She froze at the sudden hushed call, a look or pure panic in her eyes as they darted everywhere in an attempt to locate the source. Even after she noticed the tall, broad shouldered man crouching way closer than she had anticipated, it took her a few moments before realizing that this stranger did not present any immediate danger. Relaxing a bit, she quickly looked from left to right and spared one glance up to the three guards on their platform behind her, before slowly and carefully coming closer, eying Rictor very suspiciously.


The guards at the western gate were visibly taken aback by Qvan's statement and demand. Unsure how to respond, they shared a look and talked among themselves for a brief moment. One of them then started to climb down the ladder of the platform, while another turned back to the group and shouted down, "I'm afraid we were not informed about any other invited visitors, Professor Ibn Hamid. We have to check with Lady Whitewater first, before we let you inside. Please excuse this inconvenience, but we have strict orders. We humbly apologize to be forced to let you wait, but we try and get confirmation for this with all haste!"

---

OOC: To be fair, Aryk, as just discussed in the other thread, your party hasn't been in town that long, and most of it being cooped up in one building. Maybe it takes a bit more time before an official, formal invitation can be send on its way :)

Rictor's jaw tightened when he saw the stripes on her back but he forced his face to smoothness. The situation was tense enough and he didn't want to frighten the poor girl.

Slavery had ended in Alkir during Rictor's grandfather's reign, but neighboring on Katapesh and Qadria had inured the basic repugnance of the institution in the doughty prince's mind back to a dull moral ache.

He remained on his haunches, both to keep out of sight and to keep himself small and less threatening. He gave a friendly smile to put the girl at ease.

"Hello. My name is Rictor." Dangerous if she was questioned, but any rapport that he could build could keep her from running straight to her masters with news of an intruder.

"I'm here looking for some friends of mine. I had heard that they were guests of the Whitewaters but nobody has seen them for many days. This is yours if you can tell me anything about them." He held up the sparkling sapphire before her eyes.

"One is named Arakor Shonar. He is a priest and he would have come here several days ago. The second is named Sayid Aban. He is a scholar, and he would have arrived a day or two after that. Have you seen them? Do you know if they are...guests here?" He coaxed, wishing that he had the presence of mind to ask Qvan for physical descriptions of his old contacts.

  “Of course!” Qvan simply replied to the guard.
  “Make sure to tell her that I got my invitation at Sayyid’s bookstore.”
This message was last edited by the player at 10:08, Sun 13 Sept 2020.

As the guard climbed down from the platform, Vahid leaned over to Qvan and asked quietly spoke. "What precisely are you planning master Hamid? A few subtle questions and polite games of words with the Whitewaters, or should we simply dispense with the pleasantries and take this place apart looking for Sayid and High Priest Shonar? I have no love for them after seeing their orders for their people, but I will hold my tongue for longer if you wish it."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:59, Sat 12 Sept 2020.

 Qvan toyed with his moustache while the guards went in to check with their superiors. He whispered back to Vahid:
  “Allow us to play nice for a moment. I have no love for these people either, but when all is said and done and we leave this forsaken place, they will still be the ones in charge. I would rather play with them than against, if only for fear that they take retribution on the populace once the plague is —hopefully— dispelled thanks to our enterprise.”

 A sphinx-like smile appeared on his face.
“I am not married to playing nice though... we may have to force them to see reason.”
This message was last edited by the player at 10:09, Sun 13 Sept 2020.

The female slave hesitated as she pondered the stranger's words, then gave an almost violent start as the guards on the western platform suddenly shouted down to Rictor's companions. With a grimace, she hurried back to the shadow of the nearest tent and carefully peeked around to watch the guards have their brief back and forth with Qvan. As one of the men started climbing down the ladder, she cursed and ducked out of sight, throwing a nervous glance at Rictor.

While the lone guard was jogging across the courtyard and to the main entrance of the building, she whispered, "My name is Mhara. I have seen your...friends. Both are still within, though I doubt it's of their own free will. But Mistress Whitewater can be quite...insistent. High Priest Shonar helps the matriarch with some health issues and is still highly regarded among my masters, but the sage refused to cooperate and was thrown into the Discipline Pit a few days ago. We slaves are not allowed to enter there, so I don't know if he is still alive." She looked over her shoulder back at Rictor, more precisely at the gleaming gem in his hand, and asked in a doubtful tone, "Is that enough information, my lord?" A few moments after that, the guard had reached and entered through the door and was out of sight, causing Mhara to relax visibly. Slowly, she stood back up and turned around to face Rictor again.

"Aye, you've done well." Rictor said, moving cautiously forward and motioning Mhara behind him as the guard moved obliviously past them. He held out a warding hand, and then bustled her forward when the coast was clear.

He had more questions about the layout, the Whitewater's forces and retainers, about mistress Whitewater herself, but if the girl's nervous demeanor was any indication she could face a punishment for any delay to her duties.

He pressed the sapphire into her palm.

"Hide this, and seek me if you should need aid. But a warning first, while under the watchful eyes of the Whitewaters do not reveal that you know me."

He considered for a moment.

"If you are being observed and you need to speak with me, if you have more information or need aid, make this signal."

He raised a fist to his forehead, palm outward, very like the casual gesture of wiping sweat from his brow. In the hand-talk of the Alkir shadow forces it was a silent indication of enemy strength, now simply a gesture innocuous enough to be shown without drawing suspicion.

"I'll find a way to speak with you in private. Thank you."

He offered her a grateful smile and then, in a trice, he was over the nearby wall and away, circling back around to join the others.

---

Detracting $100 from the 'Gems and Treasure' section of my sheet.

Mhara shied away from Rictor as he approached, quite clearly not used to such friendly and considerate behavior from her supposed betters. Her back hit the wooden pole of the tent and she stopped involuntarily, watching the tall man for any sign of aggression or the expected betrayal of trust. As nothing untoward happened, she let out a sigh of relief and took the precious gem with a shaking hand, staring at the small jewel in disbelief. She had no idea how much this present was actually worth, but it surely looked like it could feed her and her family for a few whole weeks, maybe even more!

At Rictor's suggestion to hide the gem, Mhara quickly closed her hand and pressed it against her chest, nodding with wide eyes. After he showed her the signal, Mhara repeated the motion once, then said, "Thank you, my lord! I hope you will find your friends, but please do be careful. Two members of the Whitewater family possess magical powers and they command strange automatons. Also...they are not nice people. Do not anger them!" She swallowed hard at the various memories this talk brought up within her and gave Rictor one last imploring look before she ducked into the tent to continue with her duties.

---

You are free to join the others again, Rictor :)

Rictor's jaunt had been the work of moments and he was back at the group's side before the gate guard had returned with a verdict, whether they would be allowed entry or not. He materialized from the crowd over Aryk's shoulder and clapped him on the back, pulling him in conspiratorially as he huddled close with his allies.

He spoke in hushed tones, glancing over his shoulder every now and again at the remaining sentry standing above the gate.

"Arakor and Sayid are indeed within, although it appears that Sayid is being held in the dungeon."

He quickly explained the situation and passed along Mhara's warning to be wary of powerful magic users and their constructed thralls.

Zhira looked at Rictor with a thoughtful gaze for a good bit. Eventually, she said, in a neutral tone:

"That might sound worrisome, but everything we have heard about what is going on here has sounded worrisome. I would rather we try and listen to what the local rulers have to say, before assuming they're working with the enemy to destroy their own lands."

She seemed ready to say something more, but eventually shook her head, apparently willing to keep waiting to see what the reaction to Qvan's request for a meeting would be before taking any other action.

As Rictor returned and relayed his findings, Vahid's expression grew more grim, bordering on anger before he responded. "Excellent work Rictor, thank you. The Lieutenant speaks wisely though, I would hear them explain themselves and their actions before making a final decision." He said, taking a deep breath to compose himself, awaiting the return of the guard.

 Qvan turned his back to the gates and spoke softly, still twirling his long moustache on the left side.
  "For all we know, Sayyid went mad or was possessed, and the Whitewaters had to restrain him. I do not believe this is the case, but I'm entertaining any plausible scenario..."

  "This town is on the edge of anarchy as it is. If we remove the legitimate authority, chaos will ensue that may be even worse than the current situation. If things turn sour in here, we'll have to think carefully about the repercussions not just on us but on everyone in Dimayen."

 The tall wizard frowned. He knew they were very capable of taking care of themselves, but he worried about unforeseen consequences to their righteous deeds.

 In anticipation of whatever was to come, he quietly cast a defensive spell on himself.

---

Extended Freedom of Movement
This message was last edited by the player at 09:50, Tue 15 Sept 2020.

It didn't take long for the guard, accompanied by two more of his ilk, to return from informing the matriarch about the party's arrival and especially Qvan's presence among them. With a shouted word and a gesture he commanded the gate to be opened with all haste, waiting impatiently while the other four guards removed the heavy wooden beams barring the gate. It took them a long minute, the effort leaving them red-faced and breathing heavily, but eventually the way was clear.

Two guards to each side of the gate performed a perfected greeting for honored guests, bowing deeply as Qvan and his retinue walked into the compound and past them, the fifth guard receiving them with a formal salute and an even deeper bow. "Honored Master Hamid, please be welcome to the residence of the Whitewater family, appointed rulers of Dimayen and your generous host on this day. If you would follow me?" The man turned halfway back to the building and invited you to join him with a gesture. He waited for Qvan to accept, then started to walk around the first part of the structure, across the inner courtyard with its beautiful spring, past the two intimidating forms of the dire tigers and finally to the main entrance. Both animals looked up briefly, but they seem to know the smell of the guards well enough to realize that the newcomers are supposed to be here, so they laid their heads back down on their paws, watching silently.

"Lady Whitewater was pleasantly surprised to hear of your arrival, professor. She had already heard rumors that your group had come into town and was in the process of formulating an invitation, but-in your endless wisdom-it seems you have anticipated this and came here on your own. As one would expect from a man of your legendary status!" The guard led you through a wide bronze double door and into the foyer of the main building, where visitors and petitioners hoping to speak with a family representative normally would wait, surrounded by comfortable chairs and expensive artwork. Servants stood ready to take any clothing or uncomfortable equipment you would prefer to take off, present a cool wet cloth to wipe hands and face, and offer some refreshments in the form of water, wine and honeyed dates. None of these slaves met the eyes of anyone, keeping their gaze strictly on the marble floor.

Beyond lay the grand reception hall. Crystal-clear pillars rose up to meet the domed ceiling 15 feet overhead. Three tapestries adorned the walls here, depicting a beautiful woman adventurer braving various desert trials: giant scorpions, slavering gnolls, and a marid princess among them. The six crystal pillars held water from the spring, with small spigots in each so guests may refresh themselves at their leisure.

A grim looking man of middle years stood to the left of the entrance, wearing a decorated breastplate polished to a shine, both hands resting on the pommel of his scimitar. His demeanor clearly showed him to be not just another guard, but someone who is used to give commands and be obeyed. Your guide bowed once more, this time to the two masters of his and introduced Qvan alongside his companions, then quickly took position next to the entrance, keeping a watchful eye on your party.

Tianka Whitewater herself, head of the ruling family, stood in the center of the hall, hands hidden in the folds of her lavish robes. She greeted you all with an honest smile, inclining her head slightly to acknowledge the elevated status of Qvan. "Greetings, Master Hamid. Welcome to our humble abode! Your reputation precedes you, so it is a pleasure to receive you all, especially in these most trying of times." Tianka gestured to the various siting arrangements and took a glass of wine from a silver tray offered by yet another slave. "Please, make yourself comfortable and we can talk. I assume you are here because of this dreadful curse that ravages my town?"

 Years before this adventure, Qvan had visited Dimayen in one of his journeys through the desert. That was the first time he met Master Sayyid the bookkeeper. Lady Tianka was already then the matriarch of the Whitewaters, but he did not recall receiving an invitation then. Nor did he seek one. The lavish luxury displayed before them, from the plethora of guards and slaves, the rich food and luxuries, the adornments fit for a sultan was a harsh sight to behold after having seen the outskirts of the town.

“Peace be with you, Lady Tianka. I hope our encounter will be fruitful for everyone,” the old wizard commenced. He knew very well that the polite words exchanged were but a façade, and in this instance the more polite their host was, the more worried they should be. But he was determined to play the game just a little longer.

Looking at the tapestries, he made an educated guess as to who the famous characters depicted were, and made a passing comment, praising the hand of the artist rather than the subject. He actually wondered whether one of them was the lady of the House. She was close to his age, he would have thought, although he had taken better care of his body —through rigorous exercises and treatments.

The tall wizard struggled to stay in place, pacing around the room in front of their host. He gracefully accepted a sobre refreshment, but merely wet his upper lip.
“We have come because of the dreadful curse which ravages the town,” he rephrased slightly.
“Although it seems to ravage some areas a lot more harshly than others,” he added.

He did not wait for an answer, and went straight to the point of their visit.
“In the few hours since we arrived, we have established a clear pattern to the curse, found some remedies which can help the afflicted —though not cure them— and devised a strategy to remove the curse from this land,” he said with no humility.
“Perhaps we could share some knowledge, based on the progress you and your scholars have made. Or if that proves difficult, I believe that my old friend master Sayyid may assist us to provide a cure for the afflicted and a protection to those who are not.”

Tucking on his moustache, he planted his eyes in her gaze and added:
“I would very much desire to speak with him.”

---

Sense Motive: 22
Diplomacy: 33
Perception: 51

This message was last edited by the player at 21:56, Tue 15 Sept 2020.

Aryk followed their guide into the extravagant palace.  He kept his face and posture neutral, but became increasingly wary the deeper they went into the Whitewater's domain.  So far, the only things that had added up were that the Whitewaters were in some manner involved, and while allowing themselves to be drawn deeper into their potential web was necessary, he knew it was risky.

He kept his eyes open as they were guided in, noting their path, the guards, anything & everything.  It took him a conscious effort to avoid curling his lip at the blatant display of wealth while their own people, their charges, suffered so just outside their gates.  So much for being stewards of their people.  Soon enough they arrived before the matriarch of the family.  As it was, he was quite content to leave the diplomacy to Qvan, a man with a reputation that would aid them, and frankly, a better understanding of the customs and courtly protocols than Aryk.  Instead he merely stood silent and watched.

It had been a bloody morning and Rictor accepted a soft white towel that he handed back considerably grimier than he had received it. He thanked the demure serving girl as well, although she didn't raise her eyes or acknowledge him at all except for a well trained curtsy.

A well behaved servant was a sign of respect and understanding between a lord and his valuable employee. A well behaved slave had more sinister implications.

Being in this noble house, this reminder of a life ripped away. Mhara's trembling form. The squalor spreading through the town, and the searing image of a pair of guards tossing a living man into a pit to burn alive. The morning's events had primed the crownless prince, had honed the formless, gnawing anger in Rictor's breast to something white hot and sharpened to a razor point. And aimed at the shrewd woman exchanging pleasantries with Qvan.

Every lily of gilt scrollwork spreading over ornate furniture of rare wood. Every goblet of crystal and shimmering glass. Every drop of water hoarded in this desert stronghold. They made Rictor's jaw clench and release, until anyone standing within a pace of him could hear his teeth grinding like the rumble of rolling boulders.

He refused to sit and coldly refused proffered delicacies. Instead he stood straight backed, stiff as a board, behind Qvan's right shoulder. Hand on the pommel of his sword. Eyes fixed straight ahead. Doing his best to convey the face of a faithful retainer guarding his lord.

---

I got a 30 on Sense Motive unless Tianka isn't human, in which case Rictor doesn't get a Favored Enemy bonus and it's only 28.

Zhira didn't seem to be particularly affected by their surroundings, nodding when appropriate and accepting the restoration as it was offered, but only taking enough to be polite. Her eyes didn't seem to pause on any particular thing, as if she was neither surprised nor impressed by their surroundings; indeed, it seemed as the surrounding opulence was something she'd been expecting from a local ruler.

She did make sure to be within arm length of Rictor, placing herself so she could see both him and their host, but giving no outwards hints as to any worry, as if her placement was random rather than planned.

Lady Whitewater caught Qvan's appreciative glance at the tapestries right away and smiled to herself in satisfaction and pride, clearly interpreting his interest being about the subject and not the artist. She sat down slowly, making sure that her robes did not get wrinkled overly much and sipped her wine while listening to the wizard. She nodded in response to his explanation of the steps taken by the party already, then sat up straighter as Qvan mentioned having developed a strategy to end the curse. As the topic of the conversation came to Sayyid, she scoffed in obvious derision and waved a hand dismissively.

"I'm afraid the bookkeeper will not be of much help, Master Qvan. Shortly after all of this trouble began, I invited him to our house and asked him for any aid he could offer. He flat out refused! Even insulted me personally!" She shook her head at the sheer audacity of such a unthinkable response and popped another small fruit into her mouth. "Such a behavior cannot be tolerated, naturally, otherwise where would we end up? The laws of our country and the resulting order are based on our tradition, everyone in Qadira needs to treat their betters with the respect they deserve and follow orders. The bookeeper did neither, so he had to be punished." Tianka glanced up and gave the party an evaluating look. "But maybe I will let you talk to the little man at some point. We will see."

She shook her head as if to clear it from a bad dream and focused her attention back on Qvan. "But, to more pressing matters. We are all rather convinced that this curse is only a temporary matter and should soon be over. But hearing that you have already a strategy in place to end it earlier than that is certainly very good news! Tell me more about this, Master Qvan, if you wouldn't mind. The high priest is able to keep the ravages of the curse at bay for now, but he doesn't have any other information about what is going on. So I'm very glad you are here to enlighten us with more details."

Her eyes roamed once more over the gathered individuals and she couldn't keep a glimpse of awe from shimmering within her blue-gray eyes. "Your...hired help? Companions? Well, they look skilled and capable. The more martial-orientated members should make for nice additions to my house guard, while the priest might be of help to Shonar over the next few days." Tianka stood up and nodded to the other guards and then to Qvan. "I presume you won't mind if we continue this conversation in my audience chamber while the others are seen to their quarters and get to their new duties?" The matriarch of the family already turned away and to one of the exits, as if this was a done deal with no further discussion necessary.