2nd day of Ransalacue, 5571A Dromdal Manor, Swan Street

Talantier, The Divided Lands

The interior was lit, but not as much as Lumen had been expecting. While each side of the short entranceway sported attached hooks to hold oil lanterns, torches instead had been jammed into each one. Their light was dimmer than that which lanterns would have shed and emitted more smoke. Lumen glanced upwards and saw exactly what she expected to see; black stains from soot emissions covering most of the ceiling. Possibly years' worth.

She caught her fellow bard's eye, and again unspoken conclusions passed between them.

The Dromdal family had fallen upon even harder times than they had initially supposed.

The party now entered a dining room, allowing them the luxury of spreading out a bit. Lit torches were also wall-mounted here. A dense mahogany dining table, old but clearly of masterwork craftsmanship, filled the center of the room, surrounded by seven hard-backed chairs. Over the fireplace situated in the center of the wall to their left was an almost life-sized painting of a beautiful, flame-haired human woman of perhaps twenty-five years of age. Wearing a glamorous white, jewel-studded dress, the woman was standing on a staircase, looking coyly over her shoulder at the observer.

Like everything else, the painting looked decades old.

Two women awaited the party here. One was clearly Lady Dromdal, and just as clearly was evident as the same woman in the painting, although separated from it by more than a half-century.

Lady Dromdal was sitting in a most unusual chair, the likes of which the group had never seen before. The chair had no legs at all, but what looked like miniature wagon wheels were attached to either side of the chair, covered by a thin black substance that Lumen could not identify.

The matriarch of the Dromdal family gazed haughtily at her new arrivals. She wore a full-length orange velvet gown, bare on both shoulders. Her hair was the same flame red as in her portrait, although no one present doubted for an instant that it was now dyed. The make-up that covered her face, neck and shoulders was so thick as to give an almost white, ghostly appearance. Her eyebrows were black painted arcs, and dark lines surrounded both eyes.

Lumen noticed that, alone amongst the Light in The Darkness, Saito Takahashi did not seem to be hiding an inner revulsion at this woman's appearance.

A small show dog the size of a housecat sat curled in the woman's lap but it was the rather larger dog that sat obediently by the woman's' side that drew the bulk of their attention. A black mastiff of some kind, it looked barely smaller than the cooshees that Lumen had known back in Evistar.

A low growl came from the large dog's throat, but Lady Dromdal silenced it with a quick "Hush, Baron."

The second woman, perhaps in her late forties, stepped forward to greet them. Despite her utter lack of make-up and her straggly, blonde hair, her features made her instantly recognizable as Lady Dromdal's daughter. She wore a simple white blouse and gray skirt, both high quality but showing their age.

The cloud of sadness that surrounded this woman was so palpable that no one was surprised that she seemed incapable of smiling for more than a moment, although she made an admirable attempt at it.

The party was puzzled at this for a moment, but then remembered that this woman, if she was who they thought she was, was a very recent widow.

"Greetings, good people," she said, her voice thin. She seemed to have great difficulty maintaining eye contact with anyone, although they lingered for a moment longer on Bjorn's face than anyone else's.

"I am Ceseli Dromdal-Andronovich. May I introduce the Lady Auralana Dromdal," she added, turning and gesturing to her mother. She then stepped back, as if eager- or at least accustomed to- ceding the limelight.

Using her bony hands, the woman gripped her chair's wheels and rotated them forward, which allowed the chair to move.

It was obvious to the group that, for whatever reason, Lady Dromdal's legs no longer functioned, and it was either a condition that clerics couldn't heal or such healing was beyond her means. Despite the clever device that gave her some mobility, the porch steps outside made it clear that Auralana Dromdal was a shut-in; a prisoner in her own mansion.

She held her right hand forward to them, palm down.

Qidarchios Sunleaf took the initiative, stepping forward and planting a kiss on the back of Auraluna's hand, drawing a smile. The samurai bowed, but the others simply nodded. Everyone introduced themselves. Lumen saw the intensity on Lady Dromdal's face as her lidded eyes peered into everyone's face. Lumen's appearance drew no more extra attention than Sebastian's did.

"We are having a dinner party in two bell's time," Lady Dromdal announced, apparently deciding to eschew small talk. "I trust that your presence here will not interfere with our guests in any way?"

As one, Lumen and Dark shot a warning glare to their fellow party members, especially to ones like Sebastian and Caffrine, who seemed on the verge of walking out- or worse.

"Of course," Dark took the initiative, smiling broadly. "Your comfort and routine are just as important to us as your safety, my dear Lady."

Whether Auralana saw through the feigned obsequiousness was unknown, but her response was a nodded acknowledgement and a brief smile. "Excellent," she said.

"If I may though, your Ladyship," Lumen added. "As you know all too well, a competent bodyguard must be fully aware of those around him or her at all times. May I inquire how many guests we can be expecting?"

"Three."

"And Lord Dromdal?" Saito Takahashi asked. "Will he be joining us as well?"

Ceseli seemed about to speak but her mother cut her off.

"My husband is away," Lady Auralana announced. "He has gone to the village of Turvin to tend to our business interests there. We do not expect him back for a fortnight."

Saito gave a small bow of acknowledgement as Oliver Athraite now stepped forward.

"If we may, Lady Dromdal, we would like to examine your home, so that we may locate and eliminate possible security weaknesses and set up a plan as to how to best protect you and your family and guests."

Lumen was pleasantly surprised. Athraite apparently could be quite the diplomat when he needed to be, and she was glad to see that the mage had decided to put on a thick skin to make this task as bearable as possible. With a mental chuckle, she imagined the transmuter concentrating on the bag of gold that Lieutenant Anderson had shown them.

To both her and Oliver's consternation, however, Lady Dromdal's expression went as rigid and hard as steel.

"You may most certainly not," she hissed. "My home is not a museum for strangers to paw through on any excuse. None of you are to be in any room of this mansion without accompaniment; do I make myself clear?"

The party noticed an enormous key ring, containing at least a dozen keys, attached to one arm of Lady Dromdal's wheeled chair, that Auralana clutched as she said this.

Again, Qidarchios seized the initiative before an awkward silence could ensue.

"Of course, my Ladyship," he intoned, bowing again. "It is we who are your servants."

From the half-elf's expression, Lumen guessed that Caffrine was trying to decide whether to vomit or to draw the dagger that she always carried. The moon elf saw Barnsworth bow to his mistress and shuffle off to a door on the far wall, towards the right. The halfling opened the door and went through to what Lumen guessed was the kitchen, and this gave her the idea for a respite.

"Lady Auralana," she said, putting every ounce of her bard's training into the request. "Your servant- Barnsworth, was it?- is, I'm sure, preparing tonight's meal. May we examine your kitchen? We will be in his presence at all times."

Lady Dromdal considered. "Very well," she said at length.

To their credit, everyone tried not to make it appear that they couldn't wait to get out of Lady Dromdal's presence, but a bit of a pile-up occurred at the door nonetheless before they all squeezed through.

Bjorn Sigmundson, the last to leave, noted that Lady Dromdal's daughter had taken a step forward as if she planned to join them in the kitchen, but a stern "Ceseli" from her mother had stopped her as surely as a hold person prayer could have down. Bjorn saw Ceseli shuffle back to stand by her mother and bend down to catch some whispered instructions.

The cleric of Balder just didn't seem to have any control over his hands today. Now they were clenched into fists.


The kitchen was unexceptional; a rectangle perhaps twenty-five by fifteen, although the confines of a lit torch in the comparatively small space set a few lungs to coughing.

Lumen did notice that instead of shelving to hold spices, pans, tools and so forth, the kitchen sported small cabinets complete with square wooden doors. She had to admit that the craftsmanship of all the woodwork she had seen thus far in the house was extraordinary; enough so to rival many of the elven woodworkers she knew.

Without a word or a glance at any of them, Barnsworth resumed his preparations for dinner, which the party guessed had been interrupted by their arrival. It looked like the meal was to consist of a chicken stew flavored with onions and spices, and boiled turnips. A semi-stale loaf of bread sat nearby, near a keg of common ale.

"He's only cooking for five," Sebastian Sanders said. "Guess we're on our own. No big loss, though. I'd take my jerky and hardtack over this any day."

"Seb," Oliver censured his friend with a stern look and a gesture towards the halfling standing less than three feet from them.

Sanders shrugged dismissively but it was Caffrine Esslos who spoke up.

"So?" the teenager sneered. "You think he cares or even knows?"

Dark was pretty Barnsworth knew they were talking about him, but the hobbit made no reaction. He seemed to be engrossed in making sure his shaking hands were cutting the scrawny-looking chicken and not his fingers to pieces.

Bjorn felt a wave of pity for this poor halfling but he knew the team had to stay on point. In addition, he didn't want Barnsworth to report to her mistress that their hired bodyguards were asking inappropriate questions of the help. Still, he was curious on one matter.

He cleared his throat. "Excuse me, Barnsworth, but do you happen to know where my companions and I will be sleeping while we're here?"

The old hobbit stopped chopping. He didn't look at the cleric but his expression had that same half-thinking, half-befuddled look he'd seen on it earlier.

Eventually, he shuffled over to what Bjorn guessed- correctly- was the pantry door and pulled it open. He pointed to a pile of thin blankets piled in one corner.

"You can keep your things in there," he mumbled. "Those are for you. I expect you'll be staying in the living room."

"Is that near the dining room?" Dark asked, a bit tentatively. Lady Auralana hadn't said anything about not asking about the mansion's layout, but…

Barnsworth, now chopping again, merely nodded, however. "Through the archway."

Dark nodded. He'd only seen one archway in the dining room, to the left of the fireplace.

"Well," Saito Takahashi said now, looking around at his teammates, "time to look around."

"What?" Oliver gaped at the samurai. "You know we're not supposed to-"

"He's doing his job; preparing dinner," Takahashi shot back, gesturing dismissively at the halfling. "Our job is to keep those two women safe from that Slicer and there's no way in the Nine Hells that's going to happen if we can't get a handle on the territory. "Bjorn," he pointed at the priest of Balder, "you stay here with Barnsworth. Maybe you know enough to help what he's making more palatable. I don't even know these people who are coming, but I feel sorry for them already."

Sigmundson couldn't help but smile. "Not a problem."

The samurai pointed at Dark and Sebastian. "You two check the outside. Head back out through the front door; tell Lady Dromdal you forgot some supplies, or whatever tale you want to spin. I understand you bards are good at that."

Dark's smile was somewhat thin. "I'll take that as a compliment," he said, but Takahashi made no acknowledgement. The samurai had already turned to Oliver Athraite.

"You and I are going back in there," he said, jerking a thumb towards the door they had entered from. "I want you to get Lady Dromdal to show us the living room Barnsworth here mentioned. Kiss her all over if you have to, but I want that dining room cleared."

"Why?" Lumen asked curiously.

"Because I'm guessing the set of stairs I saw on the right is the only one that leads up to the second floor and we don't want anyone seeing you two going up them," Saito finished, pointing at her and Caffrine. "Probably a lot of locked doors up there; you'll need the thief with you."

Caffrine closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Just had to bring it up again, didn't you?"

Saito Takahashi's expression was carefully neutral.

"You're good at what you do, Caffrine. I just want you to use your talents towards a more worthy end, that's all."

The half-elf looked as if she were trying to find anything objectionable in that but couldn't.

She nodded. "Okay."

"You're full of surprises, Takahashi," Lumen said, smiling at the wood elf as she opened the door back to the dining room.

"Samurai," responded Saito in a low voice, "are not used to failing."