H'aanit isn't exactly sure what Therion means, as the thief merely lapses into silence and gestures for them both to be quiet in this tavern atmosphere. It's not a rowdy place. The locale is perhaps too prude to act so. It could almost be described as boring.
Conversation idly drifts in.
"His lordship's contemplating a new tax at the end of the month..."
"Another tax...? I... Forgive me for the outburst but... With my finances, that's... that's unconscionable..."
"Shh! Do you want to end up like Darwin just now?"
H'aanit frowns, "... The lordship?"
"Ignore it. Not what we're here for," Therion says quickly.
"Hmm... thinken I do... Our stay here may be a bit unpleasant as well with such crime. Doth thou not?" The huntress looks to the thief.
"... Crime is a thing that likes friends," Therion scoffs. It would make his job easier if everyone were focused on murders while he finally gets his hands on a dragonstone.
"Poor Rena, though. Now she's a widow at such a young age..."
"And with the taxes coming! Egads..."
"She might have to soon leave, if she doesn't want her things seized and herself..."
Therion tunes them out and tries fishing for something else with his ear.
"... So, how goes it working for those haughty researchers, man?"
"Ugh, Barham flew the coop along with his loony friend and that just dumps everything unfinished on my lap!"
"No kidding! What were they doing anyway that made them leave so suddenly?"
"Wouldn't you like to know? I heard it was some gemstone. Caught Orlick's fancy immediately and he just had to go look into it. And you know how Barham's his friend."
"His only friend! Barham's a good researcher... just a bit of a stuck-up guy. Hmf! No wonder they both have to work in their own place now, breathing their own air."
The word gemstone catches Therion's ear immediately. Could it be? Only one way to find out...
"Ugh, anyway, we better get back to the observatory. Break's over, fellas!"
Damn, they're on the move. Therion sees when they stand that it's a trio of men in simple tunics and a notable orange and gold caplet. They pay their bill and step out. Therion stands to follow them. H'aanit and Linde move along with him as well.
Just outside the tavern, there is still the smell of blood around the plaza. The stain has not been cleaned, and people walk around it even though the body has been moved away. The three men stop as one of them smacks his forehead with his hand.
"Oh, shoot, that reminds me. I gotta go pick something up at the market! An herb or some other thing... Herring weed. Yuck. One of the professors is doing some smell test."
"Why waste money? That stuff grows near the small fish pond in the graveyard. Just go pick some."
"Oh, that's a good idea. Gotta save leaves these days."
"Why do you know this, anyway?"
"Don't ask. That stuff reeks..."
"Ya fell in the pond, didn't ya? You dork..."
The men now stroll down the plaza, along the main street. Therion, H'aanit, and Linde stay close on their tail. The target trio descend some worn ivory steps to a lower level in the city's East side. Looking over, one sees the trees grown within the city in a large square, as well as other tunnels that go under the bridges of the upper levels. There are lower streets that weave along, including to the side of the river that bisects Noblecourt into its two districts.
Therion and H'aanit see that, among the trees where their targets go, there are some statues. Lower than those are some stones set among grasses. They are a familiar shape, and set along a path paved with stone where people walk by. People stop at the stones.
"This be'en... a yard of peace," H'aanit remarks.
"If that's your word for a cemetery, yeah," Therion shrugs and goes down the steps to follow their target.
They melt into the small amount of people that mill about in such a place. There's a mother bringing her daughter to see her buried father. A father is here to visit his son's remains, and so forth. The target three in particular make way to where stones are aesthetically arranged about a scenic and tranquil pond set in a portion of this graveyard.
"Rr?" Linde perks up suddenly.
"Hm?" H'aanit glances at something and then tugs on Therion's cloak, "Prim be'en here."
"Huh? So?" Therion doesn't spare her comment a glance.
"... Linde, keepen an eye on Therion," H'aanit steps away.
Therion rolls his eye. Good riddance. He didn't want to waste any more time, nor was he interested with the dancer's aims in such a place.
Well, that's partially a lie. If he didn't have any leads, he might have wanted to eavesdrop and find any dirt he could on that coy woman.
Linde keeps by him as he keeps his distance behind the trio. He sees them fishing around the weeds at the edge of the pond. His eyes glint seeing a jackpot: In their distracted state, all three of them left their coin purses unguarded.
Therion casually walks by and makes quick work of that. They didn't notice a thing.
"Aha! Got the weed!"
"Alright, back to the observatory!"
"Excuse me, fellas?" Therion approaches them and shows them the purses, "I believe you dropped these earlier!"
"Oh, why that's my purse!"
"And mine! Thanks muchly, stranger!"
As the thief returns the purses, the three men are none the wiser that a bit had been swiped from the top.
"You guys look like researchers, poking around the weeds," Therion gives a rare smile reserved for lowering the guards of others. Even Linde seems shocked.
"Oh, you could say that... We work for the local observatory!"
"Oh, you wouldn't happen to know a Barnham or something? I heard he's in town," Therion asks innocently.
"You must mean Barham... why that coot?"
"Well, you did us the kindness of returning our purses, so it's the least we can do," One of the trio points back towards the main street, "Barham's a bit... of a loner. You'll find him in West Noblecourt, a bit of a ways from the square. You'll know if you walk south of the square and towards the overgrown side of town, looping back east in. You got it?"
"Got it," Therion nods, "Thanks a lot. You guys take care, then."
"Thanks again, stranger!" The trio waves to go.
"Was it really alright, giving him Barham's lab detail?" One of them can be heard muttering to the other as they leave.
"What do I care? The guy doesn't work with us anymore!"
Classic human selfishness is so reliable. Therion scoffs and feels might accomplished having gotten a few coins and a new lead from that exchange. He sees Linde stare at him.
"What."
"... Rowr," Linde glances away, her tail pointing in another direction.
Therion looks and sees the trademark red dress at the other side of the graveyard. He has his directions. He should keep to his route.
"If anyone asks, H'aanit split," Therion looks to Linde, "Agreed?"
Linde scoffs and nods. The thief sighs and starts walking off.
...
While Therion was busy with his thief things, H'aanit glances around for a spot near Primrose where she wouldn't be seen. It's a bit difficult since she stands out by default with her clothing choices. Still, she goes and stands by a tree, albeit somewhat awkwardly. She isn't sure if Primrose sees her. But, she does notice that Simeon is not next to Prim. Looking around, she sees him hanging back by another area of the graveyard. The playwright meets her gaze but gestures with his finger to be quiet. H'aanit averts her gaze, a bit embarrassed she was seen.
The dancer seems to be lurking herself beside an ivy-covered cherub statue. Her gaze is fixated on someone standing by a gravestone.
"..."
Primrose had not forgotten how she'd left this place that night that she lost everything. She hadn't said anything to anyone. That's why servants like Simeon and Arianna all thought her for dead. She wanted it that way. If she was going to hunt those people in the shadows, she was better off under the disguise of death. The same people in the dark were all her father's associates.
The man her eyes lay on is one of them... Lord Revello of House Forsythe. The man was a staunch member of the watch established under her father. They kept the peace in Noblecourt back in the day. He was such a supporter that he rose to become her father's deputy. Their families were close, and she knew his son, Jan. His wife, Anna, was a sweet and beautiful woman.
She recalled Revello having trimmed, brown hair; a thick mustache; and very broad, strong arms. He's not as tall as Olberic.
The man before her now is wearing a loose tunic under his green vest. There is a notable slump to his shoulders, making him look weary and stooped... no longer as proud as she recalled. His mustache has now spread down and formed a goatee clinging to his chin. Strands of gray hide among his brown locks.
The stone he stands before is shaded by a great tree. It is an ornate stone, more so than its neighbors. The body is tall and the edge is adorned with etched embroidery that would be reserved for nobles. It has been well-kept and cleaned all these years Standing this far away, she can already tell who that could be for. She can't hear Revello's words, but she can guess the name on his lips. Since she did not bury him... It's likely that Revello did. He'd even bought flowers for the grave... bluebells. Her father's favorite.
Even as she stands here, she can only watch intensely. The rest of the world fades away. But, she cannot get closer. She has no flowers for the departed. She cannot pass the barrier she had set up for herself...
After a long moment, Revello turns in her direction now. Primrose's dress is conspicuous and it finally catches his eye. At first, there is only the raise of an eyebrow. Then, as the eye catches the face and the mind recognizes the vague features that might have come with time... Revello's eyes widen.
"... No..." He takes a step, and then another towards her, "It... can it be..."
Primrose doesn't run, merely remaining were she stands. Her eyes are expectant, almost resigned. Revello approaches within mere steps of her now, standing on the other side of the cherub statue.
"Do my eyes deceive me?" He asks in such a low, shaky voice that is almost trembling with fear. He is afraid that what he sees is but a cruel delusion that will vanish in an instant. Begging the vision to stay, he asks another question.
"Are you... Lady Primrose Azelhart?"
Primrose exhales at her name being spoken so intimately by the man. She nods, "... Hello, Lord Forsythe... It has been too long."
"I... I can scarcely believe my eyes! It is as if the gods have blessed me with a vision of ... you have ... you are not the child I used to know anymore..." Revello is at a loss for words, "You have... grown into a beautiful woman, Pr- ah, I mean... Lady Azelhart... I am... so elated that you are well... that you survived..."
Primrose says nothing. For once, she seems almost... shy.
"Time has stooped my back, blurred my eyes... but I thank the gods now for long life that I can see you..." Revello is afraid to even get closer, instead gesturing behind himself, "I... was here paying respects to your father, Geoffrey... that is his headstone..."
"..."
"Won't you also see him? That is what you are here for, yes? Let him also see how beautiful you have become..."
Primrose shakes her head at the offer, "I... am not here to see him."
"Why ... ever not?" Revello blinks, confused.
"... I have no right to see him," The dancer says blithely, "I have something I must do before I can face him."
Revello looks about to protest. However, something in her eyes tells him what he wants to know, and he nods in understanding.
"I see... that is... unfortunate."
"..."
"Still, it is good to see you well... whatever happened to you that night? Where did you go for all these years?" Revello tries to make up for lost time hastily, "If I had any inkling you'd survived, we would have taken you in doubtless!"
"... This is hardly a good place to talk so openly, don't you think?" The dancer gives a wistful glance at their surroundings.
"...Ah, of course..." Revello collects himself and scratches his ear sheepishly, "W... Why not come to my house? You remember it, surely? Anna... Jan, even! They will be so happy to see you."
Primrose's smile is a bit anemic as she agrees. It's not the best move, to go to see the Forsythes. The last thing she wanted was for them to meet any trouble because of her. But part of her felt she owed this to them.
"..."
H'aanit watches as Primrose follows the man out of the graveyard. The huntress frowns, seeing Simeon follow her but not fully join her. It strikes her as odd.
She glances back around the other direction and glimpses the purple poncho make a stride for the exit of the graveyard, followed by Linde. She quickly moves to regroup.
...
The general body of merchants in Noblecourt congregate in the western side of the city, partially due to zoning delegations. Tressa glances around the open-air market with her usual discerning eye. But her interest seems a bit disappointed.
"Hmm... these tomes look fairly well collected," Cyrus says offhandedly as he strolls about as well and peeks at a bookseller's wares.
"I'm trying to get rid of a whole stack of them. Ten leaves and you can have it."
"Ah, a thousand pardons, but I've already read this series in totality," Cyrus smiles, "I'm looking perhaps for something on more magical formulae?"
"That arcane stuff is gonna be hard to find out here," The bookseller advises, "We're all normal folk here, more or less. Magic shops might be a bit in the East with the rest of the snob shops."
"No wonder everything is kinda menial..." Tressa says under her breath as she examines some gardening tools, "Well, that's a bust. I won't find treasure here this way. And I don't have a good feeling about a snob shop, either."
"Exactly what treasure have you given thought about, Tressa?" Olberic walks behind her and Cyrus, "Ali did not give much of any guidelines on this contest."
"Well, I'll trust my merchant's intuition and my scales!" Tressa says confidently, "They haven't failed me before!"
"Sir Olberic does bring up a valid point, however. A common issue with writing academic papers is a lack of focus. Students try to cover everything and cram it into their writing, only to digress and go off on various tangents," Cyrus advises, "It is far better to focus your energies on a few points and refine them."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Tressa says dismissively and glances around with her hands on her hips. She seems frustrated.
"... Perhaps we can take a break?"
They stand to the side of the marketplace, just watching others pass and peruse. Tressa blows a tuft of hair out of her face and plays with the rim of her hat. She asks nonchalantly, "... I mean, what qualifies as a treasure to you guys, then? To give me an idea."
"Treasure is a very tricky topic, indeed," Cyrus muses, about to spin a long tale, "For example, in history, we see material treasures of gold, jewels, weapons, armor-"
"I said for you, genius," Tressa rolls her eyes.
"I am formulating my answer..." The scholar's brow furrows.
"Hmm... a treasure... and must it be something material?" Olberic asks.
"I mean, yeah! How else would you present it at a treasure gallery?" Tressa says like that was obvious.
"Well, some people prize things like memories and experiences as treasures," Olberic suggests.
"Quite right!" Cyrus pipes up, "There are plenty of immaterial experiences that I would scarce trade for! Like my days studying in the library with-"
"Hey, you guys said to narrow it down so I say pick something I can actually touch!" Tressa fumes, "You're not helping!"
"Hmm... Then, perhaps my sword... or even my brassard," Olberic lightly taps his arm. An emblem of metal is embedded onto a strap of leather that encircles his upper arm. The emblem is one that Tressa does not recognize.
"Ehh... I guess that does look kinda valuable... in an antique sorta way," Tressa rubs her chin, "What do you reckon it's worth?"
"It is not worth anything. It is priceless."
"Huh? But everything's got a price, doesn't it?" Tressa tilts her head, "Well, the material stuff, I mean. Not like morals or whatever."
Olberic chuckles, "This is something that bears fond memories of my days in the army. And with those memories, it becomes something with intangible value."
Seeing Tressa look a bit confused, the warrior adds, "Take, for example, erm... your hat. Is it important to you?"
"Uh, yeah, of course!" Tressa holds to the rim with a glimmer in her eye, "Pa helped me find this when I was going on my first market run! I even customized it, see!"
"Then it has value that you cannot put a price on, no? What would you sell it for?"
Tressa looks about ready to spout a number. Then, a confused look crosses her face and she finds herself counting on her fingers.
"Uh... 9... 9,000 leaves...?"
"My dear student, that is a bit high, isn't it?" Cyrus chuckles, "But that is a good example of a value that no one else can see in it. Much as I am with books. Many of them are sold and treated poorly, but I think them each unique and invaluable for the knowledge that they impart."
"Hmm... So, either a ridiculous price that can't be touched or would never be reasonably paid, or no price at all..." Tressa seems to think on that and flails her arms, "Well, that doesn't help much! It might be a treasure to you but what about a crowd you gotta present to! They wouldn't relate the same way!"
"Well, that is why treasure is difficult to define, hence our large differences in answer," Cyrus points at her and Olberic, "But you both at least display that it is something worth a value no money can buy!"
"Why not start with something that most people would find value in?" Olberic suggests, "That would be simple."
"You mean like how everyone like the sky stones? Hmm... Yeah, a gem is eye-catching and lotsa people find value in them for sure..." Tressa seems to be thinking hard, "Alright, then that also extends to the usual stuff like jewelry! Necklaces and ... crowns and stuff!"
"Crowns are indeed treasures. I for one got to see the Atlasdam royal crown on display once!" Cyrus boasts, "It was beautifully crafted and decorated, I say. Very priceless for sure, given its importance to the monarchy and such."
"There's no way I can get that, is there?" Tressa droops, "Augh, and I can't just find some old ring or bracelet! Those wouldn't be enough to beat Ali... I'm sure he's going to show up with something that'll knock everyone's socks off!"
"You speak highly of him," Olberic chuckles.
"Hmf! Clean the fluff outta yer ears!" Tressa huffs and adjusts her hat with a determined face, "Alright, back to looking... If we don't strike it here, we'll go to the east side, alright?"
"Perfect!" Cyrus grins.
Olberic swivels his head for a second, thinking he sees a familiar purple poncho among the crowd. He sighs to himself, wondering what the thief could be up to now on this side of town. Well, it's up to H'aanit to watch him... which is a bit terrifying. Was H'aanit prone to stopping his thievery or no...
He doesn't have much time to worry about that, as Tress and Cyrus walk on ahead. He follows and just hopes Therion doesn't get himself in trouble.
Skulking about the market place with a dark dress, a slender model-like woman glances around with mischievous reddish eyes. Her dark cowl obscures her short blonde hair underneath.
"Now then, let's report back to base, shall we?"
...
Ophilia and Alfyn had seen the scene being cleaned up at the plaza after Darwin's murder in broad daylight. Though they didn't see the beginning of the incident that Therion and H'aanit did, they passed by in the aftermath. Alfyn tries to interject himself to the guards removing the body.
"W-wait, lemme take a look at him!" Alfyn pleads, "I can help! I'm an apothecary!"
"Get outta the way, lout!" The guard captain snarls at Alfyn, "Can't you see we're trying to clean up this bloody mess?!"
Darwin's widow sobs softly as she is directed away from where she knelt in mourning. Alfyn is roughly shoved back by the captain and Ophilia nearly falls over trying to catch him herself.
"L-Lia!" Alfyn turns to the cleric, "Are ya alright?"
"Uh, y-yeah... I didn't fall..." Ophilia catches herself and purses her lips, "Still, what was that? What happened? That poor man and woman..."
"Dunno..." Alfyn glances around at people who just pass by, "Doesn't seem like people wanna talk about it either... Is this ... normal? I thought these kinda rich people places would be more safe?"
Ophilia nods and nearly gets pushed over by a rude person. She goes to pull Alfyn along as the throngs of pedestrians move through the street and close the gap where the spectacle was.
"I don't think those guards will tell us anything..." Ophilia thinks quietly, "Perhaps we will find answers at the church. That was the case in Stillsnow, at least... Ah..."
She almost stops in her tracks, looking suddenly perturbed.
"Hm? What's up, Lia?" Alfyn glances to her.
"A-ah, I was just remembering..." Ophilia resumes her step, "Sister Nina back in Stillsnow... I hope she is alright after what happened..."
"Oh, you had a friend back there? She wasn't in the Parlor, right?" Alfyn offers his sympathies.
"She wasn't, thankfully... but the bishop of the church, Father Eschard... he was in the Parlor that night. The fire ... came from his room," Ophilia sighs at the ugly memories, "He fled and left Arianna..."
Alfyn frowns. He'd examined Arianna that night. He saw some of the bruising on her body. That night, he hadn't thought much on it. Now, hearing it from Ophilia a little, it makes his stomach turn like when he saw the women in Sunshade.
"... Susanna says she left Stillsnow. I wish her the best wherever she goes..." Ophilia sighs, "If she went to Flamesgrace, that would put my heart at ease..."
"Ah, too bad we didn't stop by Flamesgrace on the way when we came...!" Alfyn realizes.
"Oh, no, no! We were on a schedule, so that's fine!" Ophilia says quickly, "I was just thinking aloud...!"
Alfyn puts his arms behind his head as they walk on, glancing around, "Looks like even the folks in these cities got some trouble on their hands..."
"Yes, it is unfortunate... Ah!"
Ophilia notices a pickpocket just in time before the lanthorn is slipped away from her waste. The cleric reflexively swings her staff and whacks the thief on the shoulder. The thief gives a soft grunt and tries to run away with the tail between their legs. Unfortunately for them, they run right into some of the last guards in the area.
"Lia! You okay?"
"Mm..." Ophilia checks herself over and tightly grips the lanthorn in relief, "That was... a thief!"
"Another one, eh..." Some passerby grumbles as they watch the thief get arrested, "They're like ants drawn to honey these days..."
"Catch one and three take their place!" Another scoffs.
"What's the world come to here..."
"Shh! Don't say that! This is how things are!"
Alfyn feels a sense of revulsion growing inside as he quickly walks on with Ophilia, keeping a protective arm around the cleric.
There is a pervasive feeling trying to get under his skin. It's different than Stillsnow or Sunshade...
The two of them eventually make their way to the local chapel. It is luckily nowhere so derelict as the Stillsnow institution. The church has been visibly kept well, and there are open doors here. Some finely dressed nobles stand around by the entrance where benches are provided. They talk business more than anything else.
"See this? This splendid art piece? Got it myself from an auction in Grandport. Imported all the way from the eastern continent!" Someone boasts.
Ophilia sighs in relief as she enters the chapel with Alfyn. It's a small building, not being a cathedral. Some well-dressed people sit quietly in the pews, away from the open door to the street. At the front, a singular priest presides over the pulpit. There are two nuns helping with relighting candles and replacing the ones that are too melted.
Upon seeing them enter, the presiding priest gives them a small, welcoming smile but says nothing. Ophilia nods and steps into an empty pew with Alfyn before sitting down.
"Man, it's been a while since I'd been to church like this," Alfyn says quietly, slowly feeling himself relax as they settle into the seats.
"Really?" Ophilia looks to him, a bit surprised, "Ah... come to think of it... I'm not really sure if many in our traveling group do go to church...!"
"Clearbrook didn't have a church, see?" Alfyn glances around, "Not even anything like this. We're a small town. 'Course, we still did our own prayers in the house."
"Ah, that makes sense... What matters is not a building, after all. It is what lies in the hearts of people," Ophilia nods.
Eventually, the nuns make it down over to their aisle. They quietly make their way over to introduce themselves.
"Hello, dear Sister," One of them smiles warmly at Ophilia, "Are you a visitor from another church?"
"Yes! Hello and thank you all for your work here," Ophilia returns the gesture, "I hope the gathering here is alright?"
"Oh, yes. Luckily, we have many patrons that ease the fees on the land here. We also have the main church in Flamesgrace to thank for giving us such a wonderful priest," The other nun nods, "Whatever brings you to Noblecourt? If you would like, we could talk more within our convent chambers. It isn't far from here."
"Oh, that would be lovely," Ophilia looks to Alfyn, "Ah, wherever are my manners... This is my traveling companion, Alfyn. He is an apothecary. May he enter the chambers?"
"It is no issue. So long as he is a good person you trust."
"Of course!"
...
The manor of Forsythe is a familiar sight as Primrose follows Revello through streets that she recalled from her childhood. The noble families often lived in gated courts where their manors would be considered safer compared to open on a main street. Some things did seem like they had changed a lot, though. The cobblestone and fountains look a bit worse for wear with time, and some of the manor walls appear grown with ivy through neglect by the cleaners. Fences wrought in iron show mild rusting, and the houses no longer seem so luxurious and glamorous despite the impressive size.
"... Is that the house of Rothen?" Primrose says offhandedly as they walk. Her eyes gaze about without much attachment.
"Yes... though, their eldest son died of recent... the family has fallen on hard times..." Revello doesn't look at her.
"Hard times certainly describes much of the city, from what I've seen..." Primrose says breathily, almost sighing.
They arrive before the familiar house of Forsythe. It looks a bit better kept than some of its neighbors, for sure. There is the same dull atmosphere over it as the others.
"Jan is probably out at the school, currently. He helps a bit with his friend, who teaches there," Revello explains as he leads Primrose up the steps, "Otherwise, you would see him helping clean about the yard and such."
"You don't have... servants for this?"
"I sent many of them off. Nowadays, I only have three maids or so on rotation inside. They help Anna with the chores since keeping such a large house clean has never been easy," Revello chuckles. It's a sound tinged with sadness.
Entering through those familiar doors, Primrose sees the familiar home she had visited as a child. The Forsythe manor is not as large as the Azelhart's, but it is nonetheless a well-furnished place of a noble family. The wood is well wrought, not rotten nor neglected. Decoration is not overdone, but with restraint. The Forsythe coat of arms hangs within the foyer area as a greeting, bearing a shield of green with trees, arrows, and blades adorning it.
"Anna?" Revello calls into the house as he closes the door behind them, "I'm home!"
"I'm in the kitchen!" A familiar voice calls out from within the house.
Primrose follows Revello into the kitchen and adjoined dining area. There are moose antlers mounted on the wall before the seat of the guest of honor. Stepping out from the kitchen, Primrose sees a familiar face. Anna Forsythe was a very beautiful woman in her prime, and she hasn't lost much of her attractiveness. She wasn't overly gaudy or done up with makeup. Her plain face is pleasant to look at, framed with dark locks. Her skin shows the slightest remnant of a tan from her days spent doing chores in the sun, for she married into the family and was not born of noble blood. But her kindness made up for any shortcomings one could say about her.
"Ah, and who's this pretty thing you brought home?" Anna looks aghast at their guest, "Revello! Dear!"
"Peace, Anna! Take a closer look!" Revello steps aside, "Don't you see the resemblance? Don't you recognize her? Geoffrey's daughter?"
Primrose finds herself feeling the slightest bit shy as Anna scrutinizes her face. The woman's eyes slowly widen with realization.
"My gods... L-lady Primrose?"
"It's good to see you, Lady Forsythe," Primrose smiles softly and makes a small curtsy with her show dress.
"Oh... Oh, but ... Dear!" Anna looks to Revello, demanding an explanation, "How did this happen? Where...?"
"The gods have blessed us, have they not, Anna? Primrose is alive and well, against all our worst fears!"
"Y-yes... My goodness, Lady Primrose!" Anna can still scarcely believe it. She looks almost afraid to touch the young woman before her, at a loss for words.
"... Anna, please, you needn't be so formal," Primrose smiles, "I was just a child playing in your house... no need to address me so."
She knew Anna addressed her so according to the old order of houses. House Azelhart was higher ranking than Forsythe, thus the formal title despite her being younger.
"Oh, if only Jan could see you now...! That boy..." Anna's eyes turn nostalgic, "He was so heartbroken after that day... If he knew you were here, he'd be overjoyed! Won't you stay a bit?"
"... Ah, Anna..." Revello interrupts, "I was hoping to chat with Primrose, actually..."
"Oh! Where are my manners!" Anna flusters, "I'll get some tea on the stove immediately! Please, the two of you can make yourselves at home!"
Primrose thanks her and Revello shows her around a little, perhaps to rekindle some nostalgia in a place she had not been in for so long. She didn't have any need of it exactly, but she accepts anyway. They end up sitting in the room with the hearth and busts of the Forsythe heads of house. Revello stokes the fire. Anna brings in the tea and places it on the table before the large chairs. She excuses herself so Primrose can speak with Revello alone.
"... It's not something I want her to hear so often, you understand?" Revello looks to Primrose as the door closes, "She's worried enough as it is over these years for me..."
"That is entirely understandable," Primrose looks down at the tea and takes a cup quietly to sip it, "It's better to be able to avoid this kind of thing."
"That is... exactly what I want to tell you, Primrose," Revello leans forward, a serious look in his eye, "You came back regarding your father, did you not?"
Primrose sips her tea and nods.
Revello scratches his chin and sighs, "I, too, was a man possessed to uncover the truth after we lost your father that terrible night. I swore I would not rest until I had unearthed the dastardly plot that took place..."
He trails off, eyes looking down with frustration and trouble, "...And I ended up wishing that I never had been so bold to uncover anything now."
Primrose doesn't seem surprised as she listens.
"There are great powers behind the shadow of an enemy, greater than anything I could imagine… It's almost difficult to describe to you… Forgive me."
"No, it's no bother. Perhaps start from the beginning?" Primrose offers.
Revello nods and takes his gloves off, showing his weathered hands. He drags his hand down his face and turns his eyes towards the low-burning fire. The light flickers in his weary eyes.
"Where to begin… I suppose with that night? Hm. It feels both so long ago, and yet also so fresh… Before that night, crime was nigh unheard of. Your father had taken it upon himself to perfect the city watch's duties and make the people safe and happy. What happy days those were…"
"No one knew what happened that night when it happened. But the evidence gathered the next morning pointed to a group known as the Obsidians. They were the ones that murdered Geoffrey that night. They rose in the ensuing chaos."
"Hm. Yes, I knew as much," Primrose curls her fingers about the fading warmth of her tea.
"They were not new, per se. Not suddenly something that popped out of the woodwork. They were previously dealing in illicit substances here in Noblecourt. Obviously, we of the city watch had them on our list. We didn't think much of them save as some minor syndicate… perhaps that was our downfall."
"What we underestimated them in was both scope and reach. The Obsidians apparently had friends in high places… including in Noblecourt. Not only that, they dealt in many businesses outside our purview, each more unsavory than the last. Their filled coffers were able to sway even law-abiding men. When they grew tired of the city watch on their backs… then that was when it happened… and they took action against the heart of the watch. Against Geoffrey."
Primrose lowers her gaze slightly. She didn't expect something different. Friends in high places? A far reach? From her experiences thus far, that made sense. The Obsidians ran whorehouses across north and south of the continent. They had powerful and rich patrons like Morlock and who knows who else.
"So, when I took up the initiative to investigate, you can imagine what happened."
"You are… lucky to be alive," The dancer says quietly.
"I am only fortunate to live because I eventually could do nothing more to harm them. Two of my best men, cohorts in the watch… one of them was Rothen's oldest son…" Revello slumps visibly, "They were slain in cold blood right before me…"
"…"
"There was another righteous man with us in the city watch. Albus. You might remember him. He worked under your father directly with me. He was the most just, most honorable man I was privileged to know… and his association unfortunately also led to his targeting. The Obsidians wanted him to engage in their ranks. He refused and…" Revello's jaw is visibly knotted, "When we arrived at the scene… they left only a single eyeball of his for us to find."
"… I see," Primrose glances to the weary man before her, "Did these people… threaten Anna and Jan?"
"… That was my greatest fear. Even nobles that previously might have been against the Obsidians quickly turned if it would make them profit or grant protection. Thus, they took control of Noblecourt with little opposition. Faced against such foes, any efforts seemed to only run into walls and dark ambitions. It was as if the very city itself had been poisoned."
"Thus, I have… withdrawn my efforts for a while now. I do what I can for my family within these walls… as nothing more than a small landowner in this city… They don't bother me and my family so much if I keep my head down… I am just an old man who can do nothing but bring flowers to the dead."
"The rise in crime then… as well as…" Primrose thinks back momentarily to the scene she'd glimpsed in the plaza as well, "The new 'city watch'?"
"The watch is gone. Disbanded. I did it myself. I couldn't ask for more people to die needlessly trying to fight an invisible and omnipotent enemy," Revello sounds almost ashamed, "As for the crime… the taxes levied by the city lord… They're burdensome. People grow desperate. But not all of it is simply crime, for the city lord is supported by the Obsidians. They do his dirty work, including silencing those who criticize him and his administration openly."
"Do you know this new city lord?"
"No… But I do know they are definitely in league with those foul Obsidians. Do you remember the headman's manse? That's now completely overrun by those crooks. It's their center of operations, if you will."
He might have noticed something like a hard gleam forming in Primrose's eyes.
"But please, lady Primrose," Revello says quickly, "I beg of you. Do not do anything rash. Don't follow the trail I did. Honor and justice are dead in Noblecourt, never to return. You would put yourself in needless danger. Leave this place, before it is too late."
"… I will leave… When my business is finished," Primrose says firmly, drinking her tea and puts it back down on the saucer.
"You… won't turn back from this?" Revello asks as if he can't believe it.
"Thank you for speaking with me about this, Lord Forsythe," The dancer stands, "I enjoyed reminiscing with you greatly. But I must take my leave now."
"Wait, Lady Primrose, you…"
She walks out of the room before he can stop her. As she walks down the hall of his home towards the exit, she sees Anna approach with some freshly baked pastries.
"Ah, going so soon?" Anna looks surprised, "Jan will be home soon! Won't you stay for dinner?"
"I couldn't possibly impose," Primrose smiles softly, "Let Jan know I said hello, will you? I'm afraid I have somewhere to be."
"But…"
Primrose doesn't allow herself to be swayed. She walks past Anna and lets herself out. Looking towards the front gate, she can see the familiar playwright waiting outside. With a small smile, she goes and approaches him after letting herself out from the Forsythe yard.
"You followed me," She says as she approaches.
"But of course," Simeon looks to her with something like worry, "This place is… important to you after all. But how it has changed! I think I felt a hand near my pocket as we walked!"
"No doubt," Primrose nods, "Things are… no longer so rosy here."
"… Are you alright, Prim?"
"Yes. Let us away. I believe we mentioned we would meet the others back at the inn on West?"
The dancer crisply begins walking back the way they came, westward. Simeon seems a bit apprehensive at Prim's attitude.
"How is Lord Forsythe, pray tell?" The playwright asks, "He looks far too aged in just ten years…"
"Things have been hard. He hasn't been able to manage everything himself… and I am sure he blames himself for it, albeit needlessly," Primrose sighs, "That is all the reason more that I have to do what I came for."
"… And what is that exactly, Primrose?" Simeon suddenly stops in his tracks with a scuff of his shoes.
The dancer turns to look at him. The playwright looks frustrated, lips pursed and brow furrowed. His gray-blue eyes look at her directly, pleading for an answer.
"Do you want to commit the same thing you did in Stillsnow?" Simeon presses further when she doesn't answer, "What will happen if you do that, Prim? Do you know what it is you're dealing with?"
She keeps her expression neutral, "… This is all I know and all I have left for a future, Simeon. I can't see anything aside from this."
"What? You can walk away, still, my flower! You could live somewhere far away and forget this miserable place!"
"… I don't see any future like that for me. I can't imagine it. Unless I fulfill this… I can't move on with my life, Simeon. Do you understand?" Primrose's lips curl into a wry smile, "It probably seems foolish to you. It likely is. But this is the only future I decided for myself."
"What about what comes after, then?"
"… I don't know."
"Then there is no reason for you to pursue this. It is no better!" Simeon steps up to her and grabs her arms, "Come with me. We can run away elsewhere with a new life…! Together, with my stories and your dancing… we could surely…"
Primrose looks at him with a clear denial in her eyes despite a soft smile. She wouldn't. And he wouldn't be able to deter her, even as he clearly wishes to try.
"… Let's go back to find the others."
...
Therion and Linde cut across the streets once more, backtracking to west Noblecourt and following the given instructions. The thief didn't expect H'aanit to suddenly swoop in from where the overgrown tree line was. She lands to the side of the obscured path amid a flutter of leaves.
"There thou art," She says with a small huff.
"...I thought you were occupied," Therion shrugs, "With whoever in the cemetery."
H'aanit raises an eyebrow, "That weren Primrose. It seemeth that she hath someone she hath known here... Mayhap a long time ago."
"That so?" Therion goes to keep walking through the wooded area, "None of my business."
"..." The huntress follows him, as does Linde, "What seeketh thou here? It seemeth to be away from where others doth reside in this burg."
"We'll see what we find," Therion answers nonchalantly.
This path indeed looks to be abandoned. However, it was used before. Otherwise, there would be nothing here to follow. However, the thief glimpses some wooden signage tacked on a tree. Just through some of the thickest of trees, they can see some houses are still within view at the edge of the city's stone walkways.
"There be'en no beasts here..." H'aanit remarks, "Only birds. And the rodents."
"Cuz we're still in the city," Therion sighs, "There's trees in cities, too, you know."
H'aanit glances around and then points ahead, "Linde sayeth there be'en a smell of man ahead."
"Huh, what luck," Therion chuckles to himself.
As they near the destination of scent, they can see a dilapidated house surrounded by the trees. It is sizable for perhaps a single family. However, the roof is patched hastily with wooden boards that look like they leak. The front window covers are falling off their hinges and various plants and molds look to have invaded the walls.
"... It seemeth of squalor," H'aanit folds her arms.
Therion looks around a bit more closely. The front of the house is fenced in, although some of the pickets are broken. There is a sad little garden overrun with weeds. Looking up the chimney, he sees the sign he was looking for. Smoke.
"Rr..." Linde looks on as Therion approaches the door.
"Willest thou knocken?" H'aanit asks curiously.
"Why not?" Therion raps his knuckles on the door, "No need to sneak around here."
No sooner did he say that does the door swing open, revealing a stern and weary face rimmed with trim brown hair. The man looking at Therion has piercing dark eyes, pale skin, and is wearing robes. They don't appear to be the same scholarly robes like Cyrus', but they also don't look like clerical ones, either. The caplet is a similar design and color to that of the three Therion got his intel from.
"Who comes knocking?" The man asks brusquely, sounding annoyed at the disturbance, "This is a house of research."
"Someone looking for Barham," Therion replies coolly.
"That would be me. Now, what do you want?" Barham replies quite simply and to the point. Therion expected someone a bit shadier and cowardly.
"You worked with Orlick, right?" The thief folds his arms under his poncho.
At the mention of the name, Barham gives a frustrated sigh, "Worked. Past tense. I no longer associate with the man, whether personally or at work."
Therion's eye briefly flickers towards the open door of the house. It certainly seems that he is alone...
"So, if you came looking for him, you've just wasted your own time. Goodbye!" Barham hastily goes to retreat inside.
"Wait, even if he's not here, you know where he is?" Therion stops him.
"I just said I no longer associate with him," Barham says, snappish, "But if I had to guess, the man is still researching his beloved subject at the mansion in northwest Noblecourt."
"Anything you know about his mansion?"
"... Why the question?" Barham looks with scrutiny at Therion.
"From the sound of it, you guys are no longer friends so... I'll be frank," Therion shrugs, "He's got something I want."
"... something you plan to take from him, I presume."
"Well, if he won't give it quietly, that is."
"... Hmf, it figures the man attracts thieves to his own place," Barham runs a hand through his hair, "Yes, his mansion is guarded, and guarded well. The only ones allowed through do so by password."
"You know this password?"
"As it so happens, yes. Unless the man has changed it since I'd left," Barham shrugs, "But I doubt it, given how busy he is."
"Ah, great. And the password is...?"
"Hold your horses. I didn't intend to tell you without something in return," Barham folds his arms, "I need to know that you are willing to work for what you seek."
"Huh. Yeah, sure, fine," Therion scoffs, "Spit it out. What do you need?"
"Oasis water. Namely, water purified while passing through desert sands. It is found only in scant areas of the Sunlands," Barham states his demand with such exactitude that it sounds rehearsed.
H'aanit and Linde share a look with one another. Therion puts a hand on his hip.
"You expect me to do an errand all the way down in the Sunlands? Walk about unreasonable..."
"It's perfectly reasonable!" Barham snaps, "A merchant from the Sunlands comes weekly, selling this very water! He should be in town today, as a matter of fact... It's just that his prices are what's unreasonable."
Therion catches his drift, "Price is no issue for me. I'll get you your water."
"Hmf, bring it here when you have it and I'll get you what you want," Barham grumbles and begins to go back inside, "I trust that will be all?"
Therion waves him off and starts back towards the West square. H'aanit and Linde follow.
"That man weren... quick to speak," H'aanit remarks, "Tis different from Cyrus, and yet they both be'en scholars."
"The professor's a real show," Therion scoffs, "But this guy's a researcher. They're different from scholars. You can tell from their clothes. And I don't think they can cast magic."
"Hmm... Willest thou be stealen the water?" H'aanit asks a question she already knew the answer to.
"Duh. Saves on time and money," Therion answers with the obvious.