HIGH COLD 21 - HIGH COLD 22
"Daud - "
At the almost simultaneous sound of both Billie and Thomas calling his name, Daud looked over just in time to see his two highest ranking assassins nearly transverse into each other. With a surprised "ah", Thomas quickly jumped back, while Billie barely spared Thomas a glance and steadfastly held her ground.
Daud glanced between the two, expecting one of them to say something, and when neither did, he prompted, "Well?"
Billie took the cue to speak first. "I have a new lead on Delilah."
Well, that certainly had Daud's attention. It'd been a little over two months since Daud had told Billie to start asking any witches she ran into about Delilah, and leads had just about dried up since then. To finally have something new to chase after all this time was promising.
"Who is it?" He asked.
"Not who," Billie corrected, "but what: A whaling ship called The Delilah."
Daud held back an amused smile. Of all the things… were his whalers going to be chasing a whaling trawler now? At least blending in would be easy enough.
"It was last reported to be out at sea," Billie continued, "but its owner is right here in Dunwall. A man who goes by Bundry Rothwild, owner of the slaughterhouse by the same name."
"Rothwild," Daud muttered to himself. There were a number of whale slaughterhouses in Dunwall and though Daud wasn't familiar with Rothwild Slaughterhouse specifically, he was familiar with the name Rothwild on its own. The man and his former whaling crew had been notorious across the isles during their tenure on the water. He wasn't someone to be trifled with.
Walking across the room, Daud grabbed a scrap sheet of paper and a pen and jotted down "The Delilah". "We'll head to Slaughterhouse Row tomorrow at dusk," he said as he went to pin the new lead to the wall. "It's best if I handle Rothwild personally."
"Understood, sir." Billie nodded slightly. "I'll see what else I can find out in the meantime."
With that, Billie vanished from the office, leaving Daud and Thomas alone.
Returning to his desk, Daud looked to Thomas and raised his eyebrows slightly. "You have good news for me too?"
"I guess that depends on your definition of 'good'." Thomas glanced behind himself, in the direction of Emily's "art studio", as if checking for her presence.
News that he didn't want Emily to overhear? Curious. "She's out training with Fergus and the recruits," Daud explained. "She shouldn't be back for a while yet."
Thomas relaxed a little. "We've received word that C-" He interrupted himself, seeming to reconsider his words. "- that the royal protector has escaped Coldridge."
Well, that did put into question Daud's definition of "good" news. Good that the man hadn't been executed (or rather, that Daud hadn't needed to plan a prison breakout of his own to prevent said execution), but less good were the questions the escape raised: How had he done it? Who had helped him and why? Where had he gone?
What was he going to do now?
Daud leaned on his hands against his desk, thoughts racing now as he tried to process what this meant. "Do we have any other information?"
"Not much. Bertram and Anthony were keeping eyes and ears on Coldridge. Word is he fled through the sewers. They're trying to pick up his trail now."
"Keep me updated." Daud met Thomas' gaze and gave him a serious look. "And not a word to Emily."
"Of course, sir. I'll do my best."
It would be impossible to keep the information from Emily forever, of course, but she didn't need to know everything. Daud needed to control this situation carefully, and that included what Emily was allowed to be privy to at any given moment. It could be disastrous if she knew too much before Daud even had all the answers himself.
With nothing further to report, Thomas dismissed himself, leaving Daud alone with his thoughts.
A new lead on Delilah and Corvo freed from Coldridge, all in the same day. What an interesting turn of events. And with any luck, the Delilah lead might actually go somewhere for once, and Daud wouldn't wake up to a blade at his throat, wielded by the royal protector himself.
Rothwild Slaughterhouse was, to put it lightly, a mess.
And not because they'd botched the job. No, the infiltration and interrogation had gone exceedingly well, and they'd walked away with another promising lead - Barrister Arnold Timsh, the original owner of The Delilah.
No, the slaughterhouse was a literal, physical mess. The corpses of whales and other large fish littered "the killing floor", while blood and viscera coated the floor itself as butchers cut apart the valuable meat. The whole place stank of death.
But on the other side of the slaughterhouse, Daud found out the hard way how Rothwild did business.
Suspended above a sewer line had been a whale, its belly cut open for dissection while machines pumped it dry of oil as it still lived and breathed.
The same sewer that Daud had decided was the best way in and out of the slaughterhouse, based on a map of the place that Billie had managed to get her hands on.
He hadn't expected to be doused in blood and whale guts the moment he stepped inside.
Daud had a strong stomach, and it wasn't as if he was bothered by blood and gore, but there was something about the whale that had him just about dry heaving into the sewer. It stank, but not in the same way that human blood did. The smell was overwhelmingly pungent; the kind of smell that lingered, long after its source had been removed.
Not only that, but Daud's marked hand burned with every dreadful wail from the creature. As if the whale was calling out to him through their shared connection through the void.
Through just a little poking around near the whale, Daud wasn't even remotely surprised to discover Sokolov was responsible for its current state. Just another fucking experiment. Sokolov had basically been given the run of the place by Rothwild in exchange for a few devices to keep his mistreated workers in line. Pricks, the both of them.
When Daud put the whale out of its misery, his mark burned even stronger, reacting to the pain of its final moments. But as soon as the whale had quieted and stilled, the burn faded as quick as it'd come, and Daud was left feeling oddly relieved.
A relief that was short-lived as well, as the stink of the whale viscera he was still coated in overwhelmed his senses again.
But he'd pushed past it, located Rothwild and brought him down to interrogate in his own electric chair, and given Billie the most scathing look possible when she'd joined him and commented on his current state.
With Rothwild packed away in a box destined for Tyvia, Daud took a gamble on the slaughterhouse currently being empty enough that he could get away with borrowing one of the showers in the locker room he'd spotted on the map earlier. He only needed a minute or two - just enough time to wash away at least some of the bloody grime he was covered in.
Leaving Billie to guard the entrance to the locker room, Daud turned on one of the showers and stepped under the stream of cold water. Deliberately soaking himself in his clothes wasn't particularly comfortable, but it was preferable to letting the putrid stink of the whale set in. Slaughterhouse Row was on the opposite end of the city from Rudshore; it was going to be a long trip back.
Daud watched as blood swirled around the water under his feet, moving toward the drain. It steadily lightened in color, until Daud was satisfied enough to shut off the shower and step away. He took a moment to try and wring out the ends of his coat, knowing that both he and his clothes would need a better, more thorough wash as soon as they'd returned. But the quick wash here would at least help minimize the damage to his clothes and the amount of time Daud would spend scrubbing himself down in the makeshift washroom back in the commerce building.
The smell still lingered and Daud wrinkled his nose slightly in disgust. Hopefully that would be gone as soon as he was able to change clothes.
"You still stink," Billie commented the moment Daud left the locker room.
Daud shot her a warning look. "Keep talking and I'll make sure you're personally acquainted with the inside of a whale too."
Unaffected by the threat, Billie gestured toward the upper levels of the slaughterhouse. "There's another way out near the roof," she explained, then briefly paused. "Maybe we can lay you out to dry like a piece of whale jerky."
Daud swiped at Billie, intending to grab her by the coat and haul her off to the nearest whale corpse, but she'd already transversed away to the relative safety of another balcony. Glaring at her, Daud quickly followed and let her lead him to the upper exit.
"Sun's going down," Billie started as soon as they were both outside. "Guess we'll have to pass on the jerky plan, though you've probably been aged enough already, huh, old man?"
"You age me more and more everyday," Daud muttered, shooting Billie a weary look, before shortly changing the subject. "What do you have on Timsh?"
"Barrister Timsh lives up in the Legal District," Billie started, crossing her arms over her chest as she spoke. "I know it pretty well."
"Right," Daud said. "Your old stomping grounds." He remembered what Billie had told him, about her life before joining the whalers. Eight years ago she'd been a street rat, hiding out in the Legal District, wanted by not only the City Watch, but the Grand Guard from Serkonos as well. With her lover dead and abandoned by her friends, she was completely alone and thought she had nothing left to live for - until sheer chance led her to Daud.
The job that had taken Daud into the Legal District that night would have been otherwise forgettable, if not for Billie. Killing three corrupt City Watch officers had saved Billie's life - had allowed Daud to give her the purpose she'd so desperately needed.
She'd been ready to die, by Daud's hand even, but here she was now, his second-in-command.
"Yes," Billie confirmed. "But as for Timsh, from what I hear, the family is practically at war with itself."
"Over what, exactly?"
"What else?" Billie shrugged a shoulder. "Money, of course. Something to do with the family fortune."
Typical old noble family. Greedy to a fault. "Timsh has been raking in coin since the 'Lord Regent' took over. Between that and this business venture with Rothwild, that family fortune must be something worth fighting for," Daud surmised.
"Talk to his niece Thalia if you can," Billie suggested. "She has the biggest stake in this family feud."
Thalia Timsh, huh? Daud wasn't familiar with the name, but he trusted Billie. She was a master at procuring secrets, in a way that no one else who'd ever worked under him could. "Get a message to her for me, would you?" He requested. "Let her know it's about Delilah." Surely, if Timsh had been infatuated with Delilah, then his niece had to know something they could use.
"As you wish, Daud." Billie paused for a second. "I should probably tag along when you go to the Legal District. I might be useful."
Daud looked amused as he replied, "'Just to keep an old man safe' again?"
"Someone has to keep watch while you wash off whale guts in the bathroom."
"There a lot of dying whales up in the Legal District I should be aware of?"
"Worse - aging noblemen."
That got a small smile out of Daud. "Then I suppose you might be useful after all. Someone so well acquainted with the Legal District should know better than anyone how to avoid the shit spewed by noblemen, at both ends."
"Now you're getting it." Billie gave a slight nod. "I'll find Thalia and deliver your message, then scout the district. Crazy rich people are buying up a lot of that Sokolov security technology these days. Keeps the weepers and looters out."
"Good thing we're not weepers or looters." Daud gestured with his hand. "Report back to me when you're done, and we'll make preparations."
With another small nod, Billie vanished into a cloud of ash. Daud was gone shortly after, not wanting to linger at the slaughterhouse any longer than he had to.
By the time he'd returned to Rudshore, his clothes had mostly dried, thanks to a chill wind that had kicked up as he'd traveled the rooftops back across the city.
He wanted to change and wash up as soon as he was back, but he transversed into his office first, wanting to make sure nothing required his immediate attention.
He made for his desk, only to be quickly distracted by his "Delilah" wall.
Even from the corner of his eye, he could tell something was different.
Turning, he approached the wall instead, and spotted the difference immediately: a new sheet of paper had been pinned up, with "Delilah, childhood friend of Jessamine Kaldwin" scrawled on it.
Daud stared at the paper for a long moment. It was Emily's doing, that much was obvious based on the handwriting alone, but Daud was admittedly quite surprised to see it. He'd been investigating Delilah for six months and Emily was well aware of that. So then why was she just now providing this information? And why had she waited until Daud was away, rather than come to him directly?
Had she been afraid? That seemed absurd, with what little fear she'd shown him over the past few months. She was long past being afraid of him; she knew she had less to fear from him than his own whalers did. The knowledge had emboldened her around him.
Or had the thought of her mother still been too painful to bear? Worse yet, to bring up her mother with her mother's killer. That seemed more likely, and Daud couldn't blame her for holding back. She was still hurting, as much as she tried to hide it. Daud knew his very presence was painful.
Still, what had finally brought her to share this? On today of all days, when he'd been off chasing what had turned out to be a very lucrative lead for once?
Rothwild had mentioned that Delilah grew up working in Dunwall Tower.
Emily's claim was that Jessamine had been childhood friends with a Delilah.
It couldn't be a coincidence. The two had to be one and the same. Daud was sure of it.
He scribbled "Arnold Timsh" onto a scrap sheet of paper and pinned it to the wall, then connected Timsh to "The Delilah", and "Delilah, childhood friend of Jessamine Kaldwin" to Timsh.
It was all starting to come together now.
Daud crossed the room to Emily's makeshift studio, where she was currently engrossed with a painting. "Nice job on the Delilah lead," he commented. "We might actually get somewhere with that one."
Emily paused in her painting and glanced to Daud. She opened her mouth to respond, only to suddenly scrunch up her face in disgust. "Ugh," she said, setting her brush aside and pinching her nostrils shut with her fingers. "What's that smell? Is that you?"
Biting back a sigh, Daud grumbled, "Whale guts," before quickly changing the subject. "Look, do you know anything else about this 'childhood friend Delilah'?"
Emily kept her nose pinched shut and her voice was nasally as she responded, "No… not really. I just, uh…" She seemed to hesitate, as if unsure of her own words, and fidgeted slightly in her seat. "...I remembered I heard once that...my mother grew up with a Delilah. That's all."
"And you didn't needle anyone for more information?" Daud raised his eyebrows slightly. "That hardly sounds like the nosy future empress I know."
Emily just about bristled at Daud's words. "No, I didn't and I'm not nosy."
Simply giving Emily a disbelieving look, Daud didn't push it further for now. "Well," he said, "you know where to find me, should you remember anything else."
Scowling, Emily picked her brush back up and tried to shoo Daud away with it. "Just go away! You stink! Ugh."
Not disagreeing with Emily's assessment of his current state, Daud left her to her devices and went to grab a spare shirt and pants so he could go clean up both himself and his soiled clothes and gear. With any luck it was all still salvageable and he wouldn't end up tossing it into a fire later. Coleman certainly wouldn't be pleased to hear why Daud was coming to him requesting a brand new jacket.