Chapter Fifteen: Inside Man

Time slowed to a crawl.

Keyleth could do nothing but watch as Machias swiped at Grog, who leapt back. That was strange. It wasn't like Grog to dodge a punch from someone so slight: he'd barely even feel it if it landed. But then she saw the flash of a dagger and understood. Even the bite of that blade would be but an annoyance to him, but if it was poisoned the same way all The Righteous seemed to—

She only had time to gasp as Machias took advantage of the space he'd created to lunge out of his chair and vault over the desk, heedlessly scattering papers and books and spilling the inkwell once more. He sprang past Vex and Vax, blade held high, snarling, intent on his father.

The twins' reflexes were faster. Vex leapt out of the way, bow in hand in the blink of an eye, backing away to get what range she could in the small room. Vax spun, his own dagger in hand, and buried the blade to the hilt in Machias's back. Once. Twice.

Too late.

Chancellor Herad stumbled back as Machias sank to his knees. Blood poured down the front of his green robes, turning them black and glistening. His breath gurgled around the dagger in his neck, and his lips moved as if to speak, but no words came out. His eyes rolled back and he fell, dead before he hit the floor.

Keyleth couldn't wrench her eyes away from the scene even as a single word tore itself from her throat. "Why?"

Machias grinned up at her, blood in his mouth, on his lips, dripping down his chin. "The Dawnfather demands it," he choked out. "I do His works. I die for Him—and for Whitestone." And he, too, fell, his last breath rattling from his lungs.

As Star and Blaze stepped back into the congregation, those nearest them patting their backs and offering quiet congratulations, Daystar gazed out over all the assembled again. His eyes finally came to rest on Scanlan's companion. "Brother Kindle," he called out, and a hush fell over the room once more. "You bring a new Seeker before us?"

"I do." Nudging Scanlan forward, Kindle approached the dais and knelt. Scanlan followed suit. "I bring before you Darrak Hammerfist, Seeker of the will of Pelor."

Daystar studied Scanlan for a moment, his eyes flashing with arcane energy. Scanlan swallowed hard—if this guy was a mage, that lowered this mission's chances of success considerably. And if he could see through magical disguises, well, Scanlan knew he was well and truly fucked.

"Rise," Daystar intoned finally, "and tell me what brings you into our fold… Scanlan Shorthalt."

Well, there was no point in pretending anymore, was there? Gasps echoed around the congregation as Scanlan stood and removed his hat, dropping the Dwarven illusion. Time to improvise. "I apologize for the deception," he said smoothly, stalling for time as his mind raced. "You, see, I—"

"You are a member of the mercenary band that calls itself Vox Machina," Daystar interrupted. His imperious voice rang through the chamber, so sonorous and commanding it had to be magically amplified. "A tightly knit group of friends, by all accounts—and one which includes our so-called 'Lord' Percival de Rolo. You helped him to claim Whitestone for his own, despite the Dawnfather's clear displeasure, mere weeks ago. Why should I believe you are anything but a spy and a threat to our cause?"

Shit. Daystar had seen right through him in an instant. He knew everything: Scanlan's identity, his allegiance, his mission. That was going to make convincing him otherwise twice as difficult. It was going to take every ounce of acting skill he had.

Lifting his chin and puffing out his chest, Scanlan drew upon every scrap of bardic training and practice he had and poured it into looking indignantly put out. "You might say that Percival and I had a… falling out," he said tightly. "After the Briarwoods fell, I had expected he would stay behind to help rebuild, as was obviously his duty. When he instead left it all in his little sister's hands and fled?" He sneered. "I lost a lot of respect for him that day. I've been looking for an excuse to part ways with Vox Machina ever since. A reason that won't end with them all hunting me down."

Daystar glowered down at him, skeptical but (hopefully) not entirely unconvinced. "You would throw in your lot with us over a broken friendship?" he demanded. "We are seekers of the justice and light of Pelor, Shorthalt. This is not the place to find redress for such squabbles, however right you may be."

"I know." Scanlan let his sneer transform into something softer, sadder, and looked down at his feet. He shifted his weight uncomfortably, to really sell the tonal shift. "Look, I'm just a bard," he said, more quietly this time. "The most good I can usually bring into this world tops out at making a few people smile for a short time. And that's not nothing, don't get me wrong. But when I helped to liberate Whitestone from the Briarwoods' rule, I knew I'd accomplished something truly great. Something I could be proud of. So… I-I care what happens to this city. I want the best for Whitestone and its people—and I've come to realize that the de Rolo family, or what's left of them, isn't it." He met Daystar's eyes again, with determination. "I want to help you bring them down. I want to finish what I started, and save this city!"

"Yet you come to us disguised, under false pretenses."

"It was necessary to give Vox Machina the slip," Scanlan protested. "Besides, I'm kind of a big deal in Whitestone. I thought it would be best to make sure no one recognized me, at least at first. I thought it might look suspicious if I was seen approaching you."

Daystar narrowed his eyes, his gaze probing for any hint of deception. Scanlan kept his expression as open and honest as he could.

"Kindle," Daystar said finally, "find our new Seeker a cell. Make certain he is comfortable, but lock the door." To Scanlan, he said, "You must earn our trust. You will spend the remainder of this day and night in fasting and prayer, and tomorrow, you will complete your trial. Then you may join our ranks."

"Whatever you would ask of me to prove my sincerity, consider it done," said Scanlan.

A thoroughly unpleasant smile spread across Daystar's face. "Good. There is only one way for a Seeker with your history to do so: in the morning, you will finish what Star and Blaze could not. Your trial will be to kill Percival de Rolo."

Grog scowled down at Machias's body, then looked up at Vax with a disappointed frown. "You promised I could beat 'is face in!" he complained.

"I know, Big Man," Vax sighed as he wiped the blood off his blade and sheathed it. "I'm sorry it didn't work out that way."

Clutching her staff in both hands, Keyleth surveyed the scene with wide, frightened eyes. She'd hardly moved a muscle since the short scuffle had begun, seemingly frozen in shock. "This looks bad, guys," she said. "Like, really bad."

Vex nodded grimly as she lowered her bow. Keyleth was right. With Chancellor Herad and his son both dead and no one but Vox Machina left standing, the scene was incriminating, to say the least. "We need to fetch Captain Garron immediately, and tell him what's happened. If anyone is going to believe us, he will. He's the only certain ally we have left."

"For now," said Vax darkly. "I agree that this looks pretty damning for us." Kneeling, he began to methodically search Machias's body. "We'll need some sort of proof that this guy was a Righteous agent. Some kind of amulet, maybe, or a tattoo, or—yes!" With a triumphant but joyless smile, he pulled a leather sheath from Machias's belt: the one from which he'd drawn the dagger. Droplets of oily black liquid glistened around the opening, and a few rolled slowly down the side. Vex prayed her brother would be careful not to let the stuff touch him. "I'd bet very good money this is the same poison The Righteous used on Cassandra and Percival."

Vex snorted. "That's the easy part about dealing with cults. They're so bloody predictable."

Keyleth finally shook herself to action. "I-I'll go get the captain," she stammered, and fairly fled the room.

Minutes later, Vex heard Garron's voice scolding Keyleth as they came down the hallway. "—should have brought me with you," he snapped. "I don't know how I'm going to be able to defend—Gods above!" He stopped short as he entered the room and his gaze fell on the carnage.

"We wanted you here for this, too," said Vex. "But Chancellor Herad insisted he could handle Machias on his own."

Garron grimaced. "Doesn't look like that worked out too well. Unfortunately, it's also a very convenient story."

"Yes, it is." Vax stood and handed Garron the poisoned sheath. "But you don't have to take us at our word. This should be—careful, don't touch the black stuff—this should be enough to prove Machias was working for The Righteous."

"That, and the executions," Keyleth spat.

Garron startled at that, badly. "What?"

"Exer… ecto… he said 'e 'ad the prisoners killed," said Grog.

"But… that's not possible," Garron protested, shaking his head. "Executions must be authorized by both Lady Cassandra and myself. It's the law. Even the Chancellor's orders wouldn't supersede that."

Vex's knuckles went white as she tightened her grip on her bow. "Then where the fuck are they?" she snarled.

"Little shit musta helped 'em escape," said Grog.

"And to make matters worse," Vax added grimly, "that would make at least two of the Pale Guard complicit."

Garron swore. "And if they're out there somewhere, they're certain to try to finish what they started. I'll set a guard on the Ze—damn it, I can't do that until I know who I can trust." He gritted his teeth and wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his sword. "I'll stand guard myself. No one will get near Lady de Rolo or her brother while I draw breath. I swear to you."

Vax nodded once, sharply. "Grog will go with you. The rest of us will root out these traitors to the last man. We swear to you."