The Secret in the Attic

There were worse ways to spend an afternoon the doppelganger currently thinking of herself as Tess thought. She hid in a shady spot amidst shrubs on the Cassalanter grounds, camouflaged by her brown dress, tan smock, and even the hue of green she'd shifted into her skin. Her form itself was good for hiding - a nimble young woman, short enough to joke she might have some halfling ancestry in her makeup. The breaths she took while she waited were scented with the floral smells of a noble villa garden - tulip, lilac, lily, and poppy as well as fresh cut grass and turned soil. Still, she would rather be basking in the sun on one of the rockers she could see on the patio or even one of the wrought iron chairs with backs designed to look like butterfly wings than be crouched in the shadows.

She smiled to herself.

But then the game she played with the Cassalanter children was called hide-and-seek and not find-the-nanny-assistant-lounging-in-plain-sight.

Tess stifled a yawn. Events last night unfolded as she'd planned. She'd met the normal nanny assistant, Marsee, at the Jade Jug, the tavern frequented by many of the Cassalanter servants after work. The poor young woman had fallen sick, thanks to a potion Tess had slipped into her tankard, and sadly was still too ill to report for her nanny duties in the morning. With the aid of a magic compulsion the sick girl had suggested the doppelganger take her place at work. Just for a day. Another spell scroll had been used on the older tiefling nanny to get her to accept the swap. So, here Tess was, playing hide-and-seek and exhausted!

And not just from the sleepless night as a caretaker. Who knew keeping up with a pair of energetic eight year old twins could be more tiring than even being a barmaid at the Yawning Portal! The thought made her recall the beginning of her morning shift yesterday. Kuhl and Sky, companions of the romantic partner of her Bonnie persona, had descended down the Well with Meloon Wardragon and others. But her doppelganger senses, her ability to detect thoughts, told her something else wore Meloon's skin and that of some of his companions.

That was a problem.

Not just for the half-elf and the tabaxi, though she'd tried to warn them as best as she was able, but for all shapeshifters of the city. Because a sweep of those armed with magical detection would occur if creatures preying on Waterdhavians and stealing their forms was discovered - and those seekers would probably not discriminate too much on who to purge.

That bit of knowledge had led the doppelganger to visit the Elfstone Tavern a second time on the same day. Her mentor Nylaersyn had not been happy to hear her report, but said she would look into it, and take care of it.

Movement in the yard brought Tess's thoughts from past to present. The golden haired twins, cherished children of the noble Cassalanter line, moved across the lawn in search of her. A melancholy descended on Tess as she watched them, really the resurfacing of feelings which had preyed on her throughout the day. The doppelganger herself was born a twin and into a noble household of this very city. At the moment it did not seem so long ago that she'd been minded by nannies and tutors, played in a yard much like this one, roamed the halls of the villa with her brother, and bore the name Dylea Manthar brother to Ithnil Manthar, namesake of their father.

But it was a long time ago. That had been another life, before she'd known what she was, and many different faces and different names had been worn by the doppelganger since then. Another thought struck her, one that made her angry. She was here investigating the suspicion that her brother had faked his death and taken the place of Victorio Cassalanter. If that were true, surely it would be even stranger for him to raise a pair of twins than for her to spend one day nannying them. Wouldn't the daily reminder that he himself had a sister, a sister who thought him dead in the Mistshore fire, make him feel guilty and seek her out? If her suspicions proved true, obviously not.

The twins peeked behind a few shrubs and a garden wall, but already showed signs of frustration - the girl Elzerina fell to watching the fluttering butterflies and the buzzing bees and the boy, Terenzio slumped his shoulders after he'd searched the obvious places. Doubtless the Marsee, their normal nanny assistant, made it easy for them to find her during these games and also pretended not to find them quickly when their roles reversed. Tess had done the same. They were only eight after all. But now she needed to give herself time to work so she upped the challenge.

Terenzio saw the gardener weeding a flower bed and scampered over to him. Conversation ensued and the man pointed.

"She went into the guest house," the boy called out.

The cheating little lordling had obviously asked the gardener for help in the seeking part of the game.

He'd probably done the same with the house guards to learn she'd gone outside.

Exactly as Tess expected.

She had gone into the guest house, even left the door slightly open as a clue, but then slipped out a window and crept to her current position. She watched the twins take the first couple steps to the guest house before slipping through the bushes to the main residence. A thorough search of the guest house would take some time, but the children would grow bored. Tess judged she had ten minutes. Then she better be back in the garden and easily found.

She quickly made her way to the window she herself had unlatched earlier. Hidden from the gardener by an azalea bush, she shifted, growing in stature so she could first peek in the window, open it, then climb up and slither inside.

Shutting the window behind her, Tess crouched for a moment behind the expansive dining table, listening, downed palm and knee noting the plush thickness of the throw rug beneath her as she shifted again fully into the shorter form of Tess and giving herself a normal complexion rather than the green one used for hiding. Hearing only sparse activity through the door to the kitchen, it being well between meal times, she stood.

With the lord and lady of the house in Amphail for a couple of days with their noble friends, the dining room was not being used. The table was therefore not set, the broad polished surface visible along with the ornately carved legs and edges. Three exits led out of the dining room - a door to the kitchen, a double door to the smoking room, and an open archway to the foyer of the grand central stairs.

Tess went through the last, soft soles of her leather boots padding across the marble floor to one of the doors in the foyer. As promised, Nylaersyn had provided a set of plans to the villa, which the doppelganger had committed to memory. This would be the door to the private study, designed to be used as an office to the master of the house. Unsurprisingly, it was locked.

Taking a nervous breath, Tess retrieved her lock picks. There were dedicated stairwells for servants, but with the heads of the house not in residence, the servants might choose to use the grand stairwell instead. Or pop out the door beneath the stairs from the cellar. A pair of guards were also set in the main entry to the manse, just one room over. This was the time and place of most vulnerability. Working quickly, feeling like every scratch and snick was all too audible, she unlocked the door. She slipped inside and closed the door behind her.

Tess jumped slightly as her eyes adjusted to the gloom of the darkened office. Someone stood just to the right of the door, staring right at her. No, not someone she realized, something.

It was a decorative full set of bronze armor with a greatsword. The thing had given her a fright! She sighed and examined the rest of the room. Book shelves, a sofa, and a large desk with two chairs set up for visitors and another high backed, leather upholstered one for the owner of the study. Parchments, scrolls, an inkwell, and quills lay on the desktop.

Perfect.

A moment of study and she would know the truth. Even if her brother disguised his handwriting she would be able to pick up telltale signs if it was him. She circled behind the desk and picked up a piece of parchment, a letter to a business associate, and her heart fell.

It was not her brother's handwriting. She hadn't fully realized how much, until this moment, she'd been hoping he still lived. Yes she would have been angry with him, but she would have forgiven him, as she and Nylaersyn always forgave his bouts of selfishness. Tears sprang to her eyes, but then movement and sound made her look up.

The suit of armor raised its great sword while a pair of red eyes ignited and blazed from the darkened confines of its helmet. Its stare made Tess's blood run cold and she stood, frozen in place as it advanced on her with clanking steps. Then the training her mentor instilled in her took over and she shifted.

The doppelganger had only seen Lord Victorio from a distance, careful to not get too close as she scouted Cassalanters for fear a rival shapeshifter, not her brother, inhabited his form and him being able to detect her. But she'd seen enough and also studied portraits of him in the smoking room during earlier games of hide-and-seek. She shifted, taking his form now. Apparently she mimicked Victorio enough that the construct accepted that his master was suddenly standing in the office. Because, after a moment of further study, the set of armor lowered its sword and retreated back to its original position by the door.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Of course a noble banker would guard his office with more than an easily picked lock. That had been too close. Nylaersyn was right. You either live this life or you don't. She was out of practice.

Tess released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She had the answer she came for, not the one she wanted, but an answer. Time to leave, get back to the gardens, let the twins find her, finish her shift as a nanny assistant, and be done with this whole waste of time. Quickly approaching footsteps in the foyer made her pause her exit. The door handle clicked and Tess started to duck behind the desk, then stopped. At the same time the door to the study paused in its opening.

The one on the other side of the door was now in range of the doppelganger's mind reading abilities. She recognized the pattern of those surface thoughts and was sure hers were recognized in turn. Tess straightened as the door pushed open all the way.

An aging male tiefling wearing a sharp black suit stood framed in the doorway. He stared at her over thin rimmed spectacles balanced at the end of his long nose and fire wreathed his upraised hand threateningly.

The butler. Tess had never been this close to him, and had thought he would be in Amphail with his noble masters. More importantly he was a disguised doppelganger and her brother.

"Ithnil," Tess breathed.

"Dylea," he said, using her given name from long ago. His eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" she asked, voice incredulous. "What are you doing here alive? We thought you died in the Mistshore fire."

"Died?" her brother asked, then shrugged. "Oh, I can sort of see how you got that impression."

"The Mistshore safe house burned to the ground and you were missing," she accused. "For a year."

He looked guilty, but from his surface thoughts she could tell it was an act. They knew each other too well to fully mask their feelings from each other.

"That is new," she said, looking at his flaming hand.

The fire in his palm extinguished and he lowered his arm.

"Dylea," Ithnil repeated. "I read from your thoughts that you came here looking for me. How did you find me and what do you want?"

"What do I want?" she said. "You bastard! You don't think I might want to know my brother is alive. You don't think Nylaersyn would want to know you are alive?"

"Nylaersyn," her brother scoffed, he looked around the foyer, confirming no one had heard them. "Of course she'd want to know if one of her doppelganger spies was alive or dead. And keep your voice down."

"She saved our lives," Dylea hissed, thinking of herself by that name now that it had been spoken. "Raised us. Trained us. She is like a mother to us."

"We were always an investment," Ithnil said. "One she has been paid for in full for a thousand times over. You're gullible to think otherwise. Any emotion she has shown to us has always been feigned and you know she is the master at it."

A niggle of doubt wriggled at the back of Dylea's mind. One could never truly be sure. But she shook her head and opened her mouth to reply.

"Willifort," a child's voice called out, the girl Elzerina. "Have you seen Tess? We were playing hide-and-seek with her and we can't find her."

Ithnil's expression was momentarily confused, then understanding dawned in his eyes.

"Tess?" he mouthed.

She nodded.

"So sorry children," he said. "I needed Tess to clean something in your father's office. She is just finishing up."

He moved to block the doorway.

"Shift," her brother whispered. "The construct won't attack."

He tapped a bronze medallion around his neck. It probably was magically linked to the set of armor, which also would explain how her brother knew an intruder was in the office. Dylea still wore the form of Victorio Cassanter. She shifted back to Tess. It would not do for the children to find their father in his office in the dress and smock of their nanny's assistant for the day.

"There you are," Terenzio said, golden haired head peeking around from one side of their butler. His sister spied into the room from the other side. "I don't think you are very good at hide-and-seek. We couldn't find you. We can always find Marsee."

"Sorry little lord," Dylea said, settling into her Tess persona. "Master Willifort asked for my help and so I had to abandon the game for a short while."

"It's fine," Elzerina said. "You can hide again. But this time, stay inside."

"I rather think it is time for your lessons," Ithnil said.

Both children groaned and shook their heads, golden hair swishing.

"No complaining," her brother said. "If Nana Rosse says you did a good job, I'll tell you a story at bedtime."

The twins brightened.

"One about Drake?" Terenzio asked. "The daring doppelganger?"

Their butler nodded.

"Will he have to save his naive sister again?" Elzerina asked. "Finally escape from their wicked stepmother?"

"Probably," Ithnil said, shrugging at Dylea's raised eyebrow look. "And we'll see. And only if you hurry upstairs to your lessons. Tell Nana Rosse I need to borrow her assistant for the rest of the day. Now upstairs with you two."

The twins practically sprinted across the marble floor of the foyer, yanking and shoving as they raced up the grand staircase.

"No running," their butler called uselessly, then sighed. "They love tales of Drake."

Dylea wanted to ask about these stories as a doppelganger hero with a wicked stepmother and a naive sister sounded a bit true to life. In Ithnil's mind anyway.

"Were we ever that innocent?" she asked instead as he entered the study and shut the door.

"Our innocence was ripped from us the day our discovery," Ithnil said.

He came to the desk and applied a bit of fire magic to light two lamps, something the brother she knew had never been able to do. He circled around and sat in the high backed leather upholstered chair and motioned for Dylea to take one of the two smaller ones for visitors. After a moment of hesitation, she did, and they faced each other across the twin pools of flickering lamplight splayed out on the desk.

"How did you find me?" her brother asked.

She thought of not answering until he answered her questions. Wanted to jump across the table and wail on him with a series of frustrated slaps. For a year he had allowed her to believe him dead and mourn him. Instead she found herself answering him. She told them the story she had heard from Aleina and Jhelnae of the night where they had ended up in the Jade Dancer. Told of how the halfling, Dasher Snobeedle, had asked after the eldest Cassalanter boy at the request of a now dead dryad and then found himself under the bad influence of an alluring half-elf redhead.

"Jolene," Ithnil muttered. "That was a misstep. I should have realized you would recognize that persona. But who would have thought you would hear about what I did to Dasher Snobeedle? Then again, who could have predicted with Jolene taking his wealth and reputation, Dasher would end up as part of the Shard Shunner gang?"

"Why did you do that?" Dylea asked. "Just for asking after the oldest Cassalanter boy?"

"The aasimar and the drow," her brother said. "They ever mention where they stashed those three urchin children?"

"They didn't," she lied.

He narrowed his eyes behind his spectacles, likely suspecting her lie. It was difficult for them to fully hide things from each other.

"I planned on paying them a visit and getting one or the other to talk," her brother said. "Probably the mouthy drow bitch."

"I wouldn't," Dylea warned, thinking quickly. "Nylaersyn had me build a relationship with them for a reason. She wants them left alone."

"Still an errand girl at her beck and call," Ithnil said, shaking his head. "Well, I'm not. And I'm not afraid of her either."

The last part she sensed was a lie. Dylea stopped herself from breathing a sigh of relief. Aleina and Jhelnae would be safe from her brother as long as he believed their mentor had an interest in them.

"You didn't want to be Nylaersyn's errand boy?" she said, voice mocking. "So you took on the role of the Cassalanter butler?"

If he would not give her answers straight, she would goad them out of him.

"Temporarily," he said with a tight smile. "Until Victorio is installed as the Open Lord. Then I will be rewarded."

"Rewarded how?" she asked, already suspecting the answer.

"My birthright," Ithnil said. "The Lordship of House Manthar."

"Of course," Dylea sighed, bringing fingers to the bridge of her nose. "And what happens to our father? His children by Lady Ilvastarr? Our half-siblings?"

"You are an idiot if you have even a shred of familial loyalty to those who didn't lift a finger when the Watchful Order and the Watch dragged us, kicking, screaming, and crying from our home," her brother growled. "And our lady stepmother Ilvastarr actually smiled, realizing my death would make her son the heir!"

This has been an oft repeated detail that Ithnil recalled. Dylea remembered it differently. At the time of their discovery their doppelganger mind reading abilities had not yet bloomed. She had read confused horror on her stepmother's expression and the same from her toddler half-sister clutching at her mother's dress. The baby in her arms had sensed distress and upheaval in the typical family harmony and cried for all his lungs were worth.

"And what of the sitting Open Lord?" she asked her brother. "Laeral Silverhand, Chosen and daughter of Mystra? Is she just some mere trifling obstacle?"

"She'll be dealt with…" her brother stopped speaking. "Very good, you always could get under my skin."

"Siblings," Dylea said with an open palmed gesture.

His outburst had revealed much. It confirmed the story of the urchins that the three masked conspirators meeting in the tower planned to unseat the Open Lord. She also knew what goal motivated her brother.

"Siblings," Ilnar conceded. "All you need to know is that yes, I am alive, but I have not broken any of Nylaersyn's rules. Butler Willifort Crowelle is a persona of my own creation, not a murder assumption. And I've found people who will actually help me regain my birthright rather than berate me to be silent and forget it."

In truth that had been Nylaersyn's preferred method of dealing with her brother's periodic whining on the matter. Apparently he'd resented it over the years. Enough to run away from her and his sister over it.

"I'm gullible?" Dylea said. "I'm an idiot? Fine, you don't want to believe Nylaersyn has any real emotions for us, but her teaching and training are sound. What did she always tell us? Never trust anyone else. They're full of promises while we are useful to them, but the moment we're not, our shapeshifting abilities are fear and a threat. One they will only see one way of handling."

She drew a finger across her own throat for emphasis.

"I'm not an idiot," Ithnil said. "Contracts have been signed. Irrevocable ones. The Cassalanters will not betray me."

Dylea's eyes widened in horror. Her brother had just been goaded into revealing more. Her friends had told her of the Open Lord's suspicion of the Cult of Asmodeus's involvement because of the golden masks. The mention of irrevocable contracts and the power to cast flame by Ilnar made her now sure whose faces were hidden by those masks - Lord and Lady Cassalanter.

"You are an idiot," she said. "This is insane. You're in way over your head. And for what? Our birthright? You haven't figured out the white walls of a noble villa like this one can be as much a prison as an actual one? Come back with me. Beg Nylaersyn to forgive you. She can help."

"That will never happen," Ithnil said, eyes hardening behind his spectacles.

"So what now?" Dylea said. "You can't imprison me. I followed protocol. Nylaersyn knows where I am and what I sought. I don't report back to her, she comes looking, and you'll never see her coming."

She left unsaid that he couldn't harm her as that would result in the same outcome. Not that she thought him capable of that anyway. He was her brother after all. She couldn't keep a slight smile from forming on her lips. Ithnil only had one choice in the end. Come with her. He just hadn't reasoned it all out yet.

To her surprise he favored her with a cold smile in return.

"I can sense what you are thinking," he said. "It fits with Nylaersyn's teaching. Strong arming someone is unsophisticated. Clumsy. What you want to do is give choices, all of them bad except for the one you want the mark to take. It's good. It works. Worked on me for years. Very well, allow me to show you something and give you your own choices."

Her brother stood and she found herself reluctantly following his lead. He brimmed with confidence while she was being led into uncharted waters.

They left the study and crossed the marble floor of the foyer to the grand staircase. Climbing the flights they entered a grand ballroom. Having been here earlier, the eerie, human-sized wood and cloth mannequin with a painted face did not make the gooseflesh rise along the back of her neck, like the first time Dylea saw it. Nor did she marvel at the expansive marble floor with a beautiful mosaic of a silver chalice with a golden sun behind it or at the gilded mirrors, tapestries, and crimson drapes hanging on the walls. Her brother led her to the next flight of stairs and they proceeded to the third floor.

Through the cracked open door to the playroom of the twin, Dylea saw the children at their desks practicing writing under the watchful gaze of the aged tiefling head nanny, Laiba Rosse. Her brother, however, led her right, to a place she had never been, the chambers of the lord and lady of the house.

"Let me tell you a sad tale of two bright and shining stars of the Waterdeep nobility," Ithnil said in a hushed voice after they entered a well appointed sitting room with overstuffed chairs, fainting couches, and a wine bar. "Their wedding was a grand spectacle and a beautiful child soon followed. They had everything - rich, both handsome to look at, a storied name, a worthy heir - the perfect family."

Her brother went to one of two doors in the sitting room, beside the one they came through, and unlocked it with a key. He ushered her into the bedroom beyond.

"Then tragedy struck," Ilnar said, continuing his story. "Their son, only eight years in age, was lost in the forest during a hunting excursion. Search parties upon search parties could find no sign of him. He was just gone."

The bedroom was dominated by a four-poster bed draped with deep red curtains and tipped with golden spires. Looking at the crimson bedding gave Dylea the stirring of a desire, carnal in nature rather than a call to sink into the sheets and find sleep, despite her lack of it the night before. She looked quickly away towards the carved dark wood door her brother approached. This was also unlocked with a key and they proceeded inside.

"Naturally, bereaved parents do not make the best business decisions," Ilnar said. "Things were ignored, important records lost, tenant leases were extended with no thought given to rent increases, and soon the prosperous noble house's fortune waned precipitously. The couple didn't care. That is, they didn't care until their twins were born. Then the light of life shone in their eyes again and they were desperate to rebuild their finances."

They were now in a private study. Bookshelves packed with thick tomes lined the walls. A writing desk of carved dark oak held a grimoire with a red leather cover, an ornate golden candlestick, and a golden inkwell with a feather quill. A ladder led up to a trapdoor in the ceiling.

"But it takes money to make money, as they say," her brother said. "So when they were approached by a highly unusual lender offering credit, they considered it. His interest rates were usurious and he wanted the souls of their children as guarantees. But he offered power in the arcane variety as well and if everything was paid off with interest by the ninth birthday of their twins, all would be forgiven. Trusting in their business acumen, the couple made a deal with the devil. By necessity there is a spell of silence cast up here. I will not be able to continue the story until we descend."

He climbed the ladder, unlocking the trapdoor with yet another key. Dylea followed mutely, mind still trying to think through and puzzle out all she'd been told.

The thick smell of sulfur grew as she climbed to the attic. The silent scene of horror she found there made her gasp without a sound. A beam of light shining feebly through a shuttered window at the west end of the space illuminated a small figure wrapped in chains at the center of a painted pentagram on the floor. His red skin and devilish features - burning red eyes and monstrous muscles - could not hide his resemblance to eight year old Terenzio, currently working on his writing, or that he was really only just a transformed child, perhaps ten years in age. The trapped creature opened his mouth in a soundless scream at them, and shook violently in his binding of chains, again without so much as a rattle. The chains seemed to be part of him and were wrapped and secured around the beams of the attic so the poor trapped soul had no chance of moving.

Ilnar let her watch the thrashing of the figure for a moment more, long golden hair that actually looked like it had been washed and combed out fairly recently whipping around his head with his efforts to free himself. Then her brother motioned for her to descend the ladder again.

"Dasher Snobeedle asked after the eldest Castalanter child," Dylea said when she was back down in the private study.

"That is right," Ilnar said as he relocked the trap door. "The couple had assumed their eldest was dead. Then, miracles upon miracles, he returned. Likely from the feywild and not having aged a day. But once he reached what was essentially his ninth birthday…"

"The contract was enforced," she finished.

Her brother dropped down from the ladder and nodded.

"So, I ask you dear sister," he said. "You who were so soft as to cuddle and hold our half-siblings as babes, despite the threat they represented to us. Despite them being bred to be our replacements as needed. You who are so soft that you still have some shred of loyalty to a family that had none for us. What are the souls of two children worth? Are they worth your silence and non-interference as I race, along with their parents, to collect enough money to protect them from that?"

He pointed towards the attic.

Dylea drew on a breath and let it out with a deep sigh. Her brother had learned the lessons of Nylaersyn well. Don't strong arm a mark, trap them with choices. The vision of what she had just seen in the attic haunted her thoughts. Any choice that would increase the chances of the twins having the same fate of their older brother was no choice at all.

She nodded wordlessly, and her brother smiled.

Once again I was typing and typing on this rather than doing things that need to get done. So I will submit a chapter again in rough format so I can move on.

As I mentioned earlier, one thing about the Dragonheist campaign is that you could easily go through the entire thing without knowing the villain opposing you until the very end. This happened to us on our play throgh. Furthermore you could very easily never learn the villains motivations unless they deliver a monologue. To this end, I decided to link Bonnie the Barmaid doppelganger with the doppelganger working for the Cassalanters and use her to reveal the stakes of thwarting them. I also changed some things in the Cassalanter story because as written they are desperate to save their twins (who they love), but sacrificed their eldest at the beginning of the contract. That made no sense to me. So I came up with an admittedly convoluted story that linked in the Dasher Snobeedle and scarecrow quests to the main plot. Let me know if you felt it worked.

Oh, and those of you who know the module and are thinking, "But the Cassalanters need to do more than pay back the loan with interest to fulfill the contract, don't worry. That is still in play. Ithnil didn't see the need to tell the whole truth...