There are only a few ways it works out when a town's lifeline is suddenly severed. The first and most obvious is to simply flee and not deal with any of the consequences afterward. That is the route many a patron of the Parlor took. However, not all people have that ability to simply leave. Those left behind would be the Parlor workers and, of course, the townspeople.
Workers like Sandra fled despite the clear risk in pulling up stakes. Having no money or foundation, leaving could well mean forfeiting their lives to harsher conditions outside.
Townspeople in Stillsnow built up a hospitality industry catering mainly to patrons, from providing lodging and food to additional sites of entertainment and merriment. The local hostels would not have nearly enough patrons if not for the Parlor and its allure. Therefore, with the downfall of the Parlor would obviously pose issues for the livelihood of Stillsnow. And that meant the people needed an explanation... even someone to blame.
The headman of Stillsnow, Richter, rubs his sharply trimmed beard as he sits at the bar across from Kalv in the Stillsnow tavern. The two men don't look too happy despite it being happy hour. For one, it's quite late and yet also empty. You have the usual patrons here that are impoverished, living virtually entirely off the tab they rack up without any caution. However, no one else is here. That doesn't bode well for such a business.
"... This isn't very good and well at all, Kalv," Richter sighs, glancing over his shoulder at the quiet night, "... You said you saw our lovely suspects going in and out of that house, right?"
"Right... They're definitely involved. Probably a bit too deep, too. Something's keeping them here... from what I was able to get out of some stragglers, there was a huge bloodbath or something... so maybe they're injured? Still, they must be dangerous themselves," Kalv says in a low voice as he pours some spirits for them both, "I didn't reckon some bodyguards from down south to cause so much trouble... especially with that pretty thing of a dancer they were hauling around."
"The pretty ones get you all the time," Richter sighs as he takes the drink, "Any word on that street rat of a bishop? Eschard? Where's he?"
"Gone off, hiding probably. Rats know best when to jump ship," Kalv sighs through his nose, "If I had to guess, he probably left before it got real bad... ahead of the crowds at the end of it and the aftermath. Probably ran on back to Northreach, even? I didn't see the man, though..."
"Yeah, no one noticed anything till the fires were piercing the snowy sky with the smoke. Damn..."
"I'll see if my contact up north sees the man. He probably took his carriage back up so I doubt he died along the way," Kalv shrugs.
Richter drinks deeply, "And how many of the whores already left? You counted?"
"I stopped Sandra on the way out. She was the only one at the time. That night, she didn't get on the carriage. Something about enough workers?" Kalv's eyes look down at some wood grain on the counter, "She didn't know what was going on, really. Just desperate to get out. I let 'er go. Dunno if she froze to death in the snow after with how many others dashing to escape."
"Sandra was a good one... The others came after, then... and others left as well. But not all of them. Even I saw that."
"Aye. I know I saw Arianna still there. She was looking this way from the porch... Actually, I even saw her go to the old witch, Susanna..."
"Susanna is no doubt in the know. She seems to know everything," Richter scoffs, "Can't keep that all-knowing nose of hers out of the business of others... That's why the Obsidians tried to kill her."
"I dunno if we should poke the old lady over this... but she knows these travelers for sure," Kalv drums his fingers on the table, "Though... getting past the guard dog of hers... not even our lovely warden would be able to, I reckon."
"... aye, Alaic would have Ford on his ass and crying before you can say egads," Richter now glances towards the door, "... Well, once Ford gets here, let's have a chat with the ones in the river house. Can't just have people waltzing into town causing trouble, can we?"
"Aye..."
Just then, there is a heavy stomp by the door as a tall and imposing man enters. He is clad in a thick coat that almost makes him seem rotund. From under his ushanka, he looks to Kalv and Richter.
"... You two ready?" The town warden named Ford asks in a gravelly voice.
"Yeah... Roy, keep watch, alright?" Kalv tells his assistant as he steps out from behind the bar, downing his shot of spirit in one go, "Ahh... let's get this over with."
...
Olberic glances to the door as there is a sharp knocking sound. By now, many of the inhabitants of the house are asleep. He was lightly dozing. It's a bit cramped but it provides welcome warmth while the hearth smolders. Cyrus is passed out on the first floor with some of the former Parlor workers cuddled with his cape. Therion is quietly slouched over in the corner, though likely not asleep. The other workers, Arianna, Prim, Simeon, and Alfyn are upstairs with Tressa.
The warrior silently rises from where he was sitting and keeps his weapon ready. This is not a normal hour for visiting... if there were visitors to begin with. With a steady hand, he opens the door a crack and stares face to face with the tallest man of three gathered on the porch of the house. He felt the door push but holds it tight, not allowing it to be forced open.
Of the three men, Olberic recognizes Kalv. With him is this tall and thickly dressed man and a shorter person with a hat and a trimmed beard. The warrior contemplates for a second what he should stay. He stands his ground in case they try to force their way in.
"... Evening," He says after a second of hesitation.
"Good evening, my good man, erm..." The trimmed beard man clears his throat awkwardly, "I am the local headman of our fair Stillsnow. And this is our dear town warden."
The tall man's face looks to be trying to stare Olberic down. It doesn't exactly work.
"May we come in?" Kalv asks with an apologetic smile, "I understand it's a rather wee hour of the night at this point-"
"Aye, it is," Olberic says stiffly.
"...But, we have matters that need clarity, my good man. I'm afraid it hasn't gone unnoticed that your friends from out of town seem to be... involved in something regarding the recent incident at the Parlor?" Kalv raises an eyebrow, waiting for a reaction.
"... Is this an arrest?" Olberic asks. His voice is level, but there is a clear wariness in his eyes.
"Oh, no, no, no!" The headman quickly laughs that off, "We just want to get to the bottom of things... You probably heard, but we had a lot of valuable clientele that recently fled amid the chaos. The Parlor is still under investigation as we speak. People in town are anxious, you understand."
Olberic hadn't taken much notice but there were a few small groups of people that went into the woods today. Therion had mentioned overhearing something about a search team. Given the reputation of that direction, they were likely employed by the town to seek out what transpired at the Parlor. And these three come snooping because the party is a suspect...
"It is late. I'm afraid my companions are all retired to bed," Olberic says firmly, "If you would please return at a better hour, maybe it would be best."
He sees a bit of displeasure cross the headman's face. The warden's force on the door ever so slightly pushes a bit. Olberic doesn't budge.
"... I see, I see. Yes, that is... understandable," Kalv chuckles to save face, "We'll be back in the morning, say, a bit after dawn. You wouldn't be so ungentlemanly as to try and leave before then, would you?"
Olberic's eyes narrow slightly. He simply replies, "No."
"Ahaha, I meant no offense, my good man," Kalv says smoothly and then pats his two companions on the shoulder, "Let's go. We'll be back in a more convenient hour to discuss, hm?"
The headman silently nods, not seeming too happy. The warden snorts gruffly through his nose as he lets go of the door and turns to leave with Kalv and the headman.
Olberic watches the three men return to their side of town. He shuts the door silently and silently sits down against it, using his body to keep it shut. He didn't have to use his sword, for which he was grateful. But he definitely needs to let the others know before those men return.
...
When morning comes, H'aanit wakes first, her eyes opening a crack. It's darker up here due to the shades being drawn. She is grateful, for the light would otherwise bother Ophilia. And the gods know the cleric deserved rest. Sparse rays are able to penetrate the dimness.
"..." H'aanit blinks a few times, letting her eyes adjust. She stares a bit at the sleeping form of Ophilia next to her. The two of them are snug and warm together under the blanket. To move would just be a disturbance.
Nonetheless, the huntress gingerly feels Ophilia's forehead, brushing aside stray strands of hair. She felt a little warmer, not so lukewarm... H'aanit is relieved.
There is a soft sound of thumping behind her. Reluctantly, H'aanit turns, sitting up a little. She sees Susanna standing by the doorway with her cane in hand. The old woman gives a wrinkled, knowing smile at the huntress and sighs.
"Had a nice rest?" The seer asks quietly.
"..." H'aanit feels herself get a bit warmer at the old woman's smile. She just nods a bit, not sure what else to say.
"Breakfast will be downstairs," Susanna starts for downstairs, "Don't let it get cold."
H'aanit looks to Ophilia briefly. She makes sure that the cleric is tucked in before going to follow Susanna downstairs.
At the ground floor, Susanna has started the stove to heat. She mixes up some more gruel, adding in some milk.
While Susanna cooks, H'aanit sees that Linde is now perched on one of the couches, taking it over for herself entirely. The large cat perks up at her entry and gives a low, happy kind of purr. H'aanit smiles softly and goes to hug her dear partner, enjoying that familiar fur on her skin.
"Rrr..." Linde licks her face affectionately.
"... Be'en Alaic outside?" H'aanit looks up towards the door.
"Aye, he's the first out. Some say he never sleeps. Well, he does... Just every so often," Susanna chuckles, "Here, have you some milk. And Linde, too."
H'aanit takes the wooden cup of milk gratefully and puts down the dish for Linde to partake. She glances out the window at the morning light gleaming off some of the snow nearby.
"How are your injuries?" Susanna looks to the huntress.
"... Fine. It doen not hurten to move..." H'aanit looks down at herself. Alfyn hadn't changed her bandaging, but because he'd seen no need to. Her body felt lighter than she thought it would, and she barely felt her injuries.
"Well, that's good."
"... Be'en it Ophilia's life?" The huntress asks aloud now, her eyes pensive.
"... It may well be," Susanna replies, "The healing that uses one's life is a powerful kind of magic. Great power, however, comes with a price."
H'aanit licks her lips a bit and looks to the side, "Be'en there no way to return it to her?"
"Don't get your head all twisted with dabbling in forbidden magic," The old woman warns, "She saved you and she isn't dead anyways. T'would do better if you helped her regain her strength than concoct some ridiculous ideas that might kill both of you."
"... But I... This doth shorten her life, no?" H'aanit asks now, her desperation and guilt apparent in her green eyes.
"... That is the theory, yes," Susanna answers curtly and sighs, "But how much, we do not know. And this is all speculation, foolish apprentice. Had Z'aanta taught you nothing about not jumping to reckless conclusions?"
"... He hath so done himself on occasion," H'aanit mumbles.
"Bah, fair enough," Susanna gestures for the huntress to join her at the table as she puts down the bowls of milky gruel, "Take a bowl out to Alaic and come sit down to eat."
"He hath not eaten?" H'aanit blinks, "He doth stand without food or rest... He be'en like a statue."
"That's just the way he is," Susanna flaps her hand dismissively, "Go on."
The huntress takes the bowl of hot food outside to the man standing stiffly by the door. His shoulders are squared away so broadly that he really is like an immovable wall. His form reminded her briefly of the soldier in their group, Olberic. Having hit him, she had felt his muscular body under his thick coat. Well, while thick and heavy, she wondered if it was more so his musculature that kept him so warm as he stood day in and out.
At the sound of her opening the door, he doesn't even budge. People passing by the front of the house barely spare him a second glance, probably used to the sight by now.
"... Heren. This be yours," H'aanit shuffles to his side and hands him the food. It steams in the winter air.
Alaic looks down at the food and takes it without a word. He practically gulps it down in three bites, despite how hot it was. He exhales a puff of steam.
"... Doth that not hurten thine tongue and throat?" H'aanit asks as he hands the empty dishware back to her.
"..." Alaic says nothing. Perhaps he did burn his tongue. Or maybe that's just a no.
H'aanit returns back inside, shutting the door behind her. She'd walked out without shoes, so her feet are a bit chilled from standing in snow. She gratefully sits down across from Susanna and begins to eat her food. Linde contently laps up the milk on the plate given.
"...That cleric of yours has a strong will. I wouldn't worry about her," Susanna says after a few silent spoonfuls, "She has a good doctor."
"Hath Alfyn come?" H'aanit eats the tasteless but hot food.
"Not this morning... yet. He's an eager one. I'd trust his hand with this," Susanna sips her gruel, "So you can stop worrying like a guilty criminal."
"..." H'aanit looks mildly frustrated as she looks down at her bandaged hand. She recalls just exactly what made her do such a reckless move of beast lore. The dragon's immense force was insurmountable for her...
"... No one could have known what you would encounter there. Even I did not," Susanna sighs, "I'd visited that field before and seen nothing of such a beast. You took a challenge like that in stride and overestimated yourself."
"I... I had to fetchen that bloom... no matter what," H'aanit looks down at her food, swirling her spoon in it, "I coulden only thinketh on Z'aanta and freeing him..."
Susanna sighs through her nose, "You are Z'aanta's apprentice alright. With a leveler bit of wit than he, but you also have his knack for recklessness in the heat of battle."
H'aanit looks to the seer, a bit confused. Many tell her that she cannot believe her to be Z'aanta's apprentice since she was so responsible compared to him. Not many tell her she'd gotten some of Z'aanta's flaws.
"Not just in battle, I suppose. That foolish Z'aanta is also far too eager sometimes. When a close friend of his dies, he'll visit the widow despite the ridiculous distance he must make every year," Susanna scoffs.
"Doest thou meanen Natalia of Stonegard?"
"I don't know the lass' name. Merely that Z'aanta once mentioned something in passing about seeing someone that lost a husband he'd known. That sort of thing is so far removed and yet he would never abandon the trip," The seer sighs.
"... Tis ill-advised?"
"I don't like most people, my dear. Save a few, I really just enjoy the peace and quiet while I don't have to care about anyone... and no one need bother with me," Susanna finishes her gruel, "I haven't the drive nor energy to run around like Z'aanta... nor you."
"... But thou helpen us in thine own way," H'aanit raises an eyebrow.
"...For the time being, I suppose. Anyways," Susanna points a spoon at H'aanit, "Fighting something greater than yourself and trying to expend your life for others like you did... that is Z'aanta behavior right there."
The huntress pouts a little, "I thinken it not a bad trait..."
"It's not the best. Doesn't a hunter have to be more discriminate? Patient? Observant?"
H'aanit doesn't answer.
"... I suppose that means Z'aanta would have done the same for you... same as what the cleric did," Susanna puts down her spoon, shaking her head softly, "Such recklessness..."
H'aanit feels her face warm a bit at the mention of Ophilia. She then realizes the cleric might be hungry if she was awake.
"It's obvious that the cleric is someone you would go to reckless lengths for as well."
Linde looks up and licks her whiskers of remnant milk. The big cat sees H'aanit's reddened face and gives a catty grin.
"..." H'aanit pouts at Linde.
"Allow me to give you a warning," Susanna says gravely, "I think she is someone that will bring great danger, with what she is doing."
H'aanit perks up, not expecting that kind of tone all of a sudden, "What doest thou mean?"
"Even special powers, anyone can see how the land seems to be suffering from strange plagues that only worsen as the months go on," Susanna puts her hands together and rests them before her, "This vicennial Kindling... it will be more dangerous than before. I am sure many things have already gone wrong."
H'aanit recalls the whole fiasco with Lianna and her father falling deathly ill so suddenly that it forced Ophilia to take up the responsibility for her adoptive sister. It did seem a bit of a bad omen for the start of a religious ritual...
"Her power also... the healing she used to save you... It's forbidden. And yet, she has it. She also has strange scars on her arms that do not seem to be of flesh wound," The seer continues, "Have many things happened around you all that she caused, sometimes with no explanation?"
The huntress recalls the odd light that they saw back in the Caves of Azure while escaping from the dead spirits of the moored pirates and sailors by Goldshore. That light felt similar to what she imagined she saw while enmired in the madness of the dragon... Or was that actually real?
"... Your face tells me yes," Susanna says astutely.
"Ophilia has saved us many times," H'aanit says with adamance.
"I do not doubt that. But that sort of power and this coincident responsibility to carry the sacred flame... It seems much too ominous," Susanna shrugs a little, "Maybe it's just old-age superstition."
H'aanit sure hoped so. She clenches her hand on her spoon, "I willen protect her."
Susanna raises an eyebrow at the huntress' determined expression.
"Thou hath said that I cannen not returnen the life she hath given me... perhaps. But then I shallen be her shield," H'aanit says firmly.
If she couldn't give back Ophilia's life, she could protect what's left of it... and hope the cleric lives as long as she can.
It's something so straightforward and sincere that it makes Susanna laugh. That catches H'aanit off-guard and she reddens again.
"Hahahaha... Indeed, you are your master's apprentice. Well, my warning is not set in stone, nor was it really meant to dissuade you from traveling as you are," Susanna chuckles, "It is just a bit of perspective. Are you prepared for what may come?"
"Aye."
"Alright," Susanna nods, "Anyways, for the bloom, your warrior of a companion plucked some and bought them back. I'm brewing a potion right now that should aid you against Redeye."
H'aanit nods, "Then mine next step be'en to find Redeye..."
"The creature is amazingly mobile and makes a big ruckus as it goes. So it will be hard to miss... but still hard to catch."
"I see..." It made sense, given the goose chase that Z'aanta ran for the thing.
"You had difficulty fighting that dragon, so I do worry about your ability to fight Redeye. But... perhaps with those around you, you stand a good chance after all."
Stronger together... H'aanit recalls Alfyn's message for her to trust them. It seems like Susanna is echoing the same sentiment. It's true... without her allies, she would be dead right now... or perhaps still trapped as a mad dragon.
"The potion will ward off the effects of Redeye's gaze both pre-emptively and after. Similar to the legends of creatures like basilisks or gorgons, you must deduce the creature's pattern of attack. Tis not something that many know much of, which is how I think Z'aanta fell for its tactics," Susanna takes the dirty dishes to the sink basin when finished, "So you best be prepared for that."
"Thou soundeth liken a hunter sometimes," H'aanit chuckles.
"Well, considering you lot make up a good amount of my visitors," The old woman scoffs.
"Thanken thee for all thine help and advise..." H'aanit sighs, "We woulden not have gotten anything weren not for thee."
"Do not thank me just yet," Susanna mutters and now turns towards the front window, "Your friends at the Parlor stirred up quite a ruckus. You weren't the only injured that apothecary was watching over. Word is the Parlor is now a darkened pile of used firewood. If some people knew your friends were responsible..."
H'aanit frowns. She wasn't sure what happened to the others while she was off on her own. She remembered seeing Alfyn's sleeve was bloody... but she hadn't really asked about it.
"..." Susanna frowns and goes to the window, gazing outside. She keeps the curtains open only a crack. Linde perks up.
"... Be'en it someone...?" H'aanit lowers her voice and stands slightly from her seat, almost crouching.
"Lady Susanna?" A voice calls from outside, "It's Richter! Do be a dear and call off your guard a moment, will you?"
Susanna rolls her eyes. H'aanit watches as the old woman goes to the door and opens it a crack, just enough so she can shout out at the cold air.
"What do you want at this breakfast-time, Richter?" Susanna asks in a shrill and annoyed voice, "I've already paid my dues, no?"
"Just a few questions for you, my dear! In private!" Richter answers.
Susanna shuts the door and looks to H'aanit, gesturing for the huntress to go upstairs. H'aanit nods and goes to take Linde up with her, careful with the leopard due to the lingering injuries.
"..." Susanna sighs, drawing her shawl about herself. She opens the door and hobbles out with her cane to face the headman with a look of displeasure.
...
At the light of dawn, Olberic's eyes snap open. He stands and stretches, getting all the stiff cracks out of his body. Looking about, he sees most of the people are not early risers like he. He does see that Therion's eye is open.
"... Did you overhear last night?" Olberic asks quietly so as to not disturb the others.
Therion nods slightly and scoffs, "They got a good idea."
Olberic sighs, "They will be coming back... It wouldn't be in our best interest if they were even more suspicious of what happened."
"What'll they do, kick us outta town? Not that I care," Therion stands and scratches his head. It's a good thing that they got their stuff out of the inn ahead of time. It's almost good luck, all things considered.
"We can't exactly move with the wounded we have," Olberic frowns, "... You should go up and tell the others so we won't be taken by surprise. We need to form a plan. I will be down here in case they come soon."
Therion grunts and goes to climb the stairs without another word. Upstairs, the thief finds most of the others are still resting. Primrose is resting with her head cradled on her arms, leaned on the edge of the cot that Tressa is lying on. As his foot lands on the top step, Primrose's eyes open. She's a light sleeper, in contrast to how deeply she conked out after the Parlor.
"...Did something happen?" She asks softly so as not to wake any of the others.
"Unwanted visitors," The thief relays tersely, "Consequences coming to bite our ass."
"Ah..." Primrose frowns, "Are they already here?"
The thief shakes his head, "Soon, though."
The dancer sighs, "How many."
"Three, maybe more or less. One's the nosy barkeep."
"... I shall talk to them," Primrose stands without making a noise, "Did Olberic say anything to them?"
"Nothing much."
"Good."
"... We should just lie our way out of it. We don't have to admit to anything," The thief says defensively.
"Perhaps... Although, I'm afraid some people can place at the scene."
Therion sighs, "Well, I'll be up here."
"Keep an ear to the ground, dear thief," Primrose winks and goes downstairs now.
The thief quietly tiptoes over to the window, stepping over Simeon's outstretched leg and standing to the side of the sill. He glances out at the white landscape outside. No sign of those nosey men yet...
Primrose arrives downstairs and sees Cyrus yawning and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Olberic stands like a stalwart guard by the door. The warrior takes notice of her entrance silently with a nod.
"So, the thief tells me we had some undue visitors last night?" The dancer says in a more normal volume.
"... the barkeeper came with the town headman and the warden," Olberic sighs, "They were not looking for trouble... yet. But they say there are many suspicions surrounding us and our arrival to town coinciding with the downfall of the Parlor. They said they will be back to ask us further on the matter..."
"Hmf. Trying to cover their own asses after their whorehouse money runs out," Primrose scoffs bitterly.
"I don't condone what happened in that house in the slightest. However, we are not vigilantes nor did we have any jurisdiction to take away from this town as we did..." The warrior sounds conflicted.
"What do you fear that they do, dear warrior?"
"Tis not for me. We have wounded and we cannot risk them by moving, nor can we risk the townspeople's wrath," Olberic looks to her, "What do you think?"
"I think the town was in need of a wake-up call. If anything, maybe a public spectacle would do some good," Primrose has a mischievous smile on her lips.
"... what do you intend to do? We are already risking visibility..." The warrior starts with a warning tone.
"Dear Olberic. Sneaking around won't do us any favors. If they want to look for criminals, we can either run and give them the satisfaction... or hold the mirror to their faces," The dancer explains, "This town had willingly turned a blind eye for so long to what was going on... I don't think it's a good idea to leave that be. Do you?"
Olberic takes in a deep breath through his nose, arms folded over his chest. He looks like he wants to protest, but he also clearly cannot fully disagree with her.
"Well?"
"We are... not people that go running around showing people their vices... Interfering with the Parlor as we did was already a large risk..." Olberic scratches his head with some irritation.
"... Buuuut?" Primrose asks mischievously.
"... Even if it were a den of vice, I stand by what I said," Olberic clams up before she can worm anything else out of him.
The dancer chuckles, "You're a steadfast person, for sure... even when it comes to admitting what you actually think."
"Oh, my back...!" Cyrus exclaims as he stands, pressing his hands on his hips to arch, "Oof, that posture was suboptimal, unfortunately... Ah, Prim! Olberic! You're already awake!"
"Perfect timing, professor," Primrose looks to the scholar, "What do you know about the local legislative processes here in the Frostlands?"
"Er? Uh, that is a rather expansive topic, given how spread out the Frostlands are..." Cyrus scratches his head, "The central authority... Well, there is none, unlike the Flatlands. Erm, do you mean Stillsnow specifically? Well, it seems to be a fairly local order, perhaps a headman and some local officers that run things like the post and any kind of law enforcement... What warrants the query?"
"Well, dear scholar, we will likely be meeting with the headman about what happened at the Parlor," The dancer says calmly.
"Oh, my! I haven't even washed the taste of morning out of my mouth!"
"Some snow should suffice. I suppose I do need to wash a bit as well," Primrose looks down at the blood still staining part of her skin as well as her broken arm.
"You... you really intend to talk to the headman about this?" Jura asks the dancer. Her eyes show something like fear... and yet also some kind of hesitant hope...
"Well, it is in our best interest, whether for you or not," The dancer smiles, "Let's get the fire going a bit and warm up the place, shall we? We should look decent if we're going to make our case."
Olberic looks reluctant at the dancer. Nonetheless, he helps with hauling the buckets to fill the cauldron with snow and then setting it to melt while also warming up the house a bit. When the water pools, everyone is able to get a cup to moisten their throats. Primrose relays to Cyrus the length of her idea. Arianna and Simeon come down to listen as well as they sip their water. Therion just gets water for himself, Alfyn, and Tressa, and retreats upstairs. The other workers that remained stay by downstairs to listen or just sit.
"We'll get the entire town's attention. It doesn't sound like everyone is quite aware yet that the Parlor is done for. So, we'll expose all of it and tell them all that it's over. Their precious little dirty secret is no longer going to support their town... and they have to deal with it," Primrose says with confidence.
Simeon gives a timid clap of encouragement. Arianna looks a bit more skeptical. Cyrus rubs his chin.
"Hmm, an appeal to the collective morality... This is a viable strategy of persuasion... But I fear we might not be able to placate those who have economic woes as a result. The inn, for example... I hardly suspect they would be able to keep their original numbers of patrons now..."
"Not to mention Richter and Kalv took payments on the side sometimes from both patrons and... even Rufus..." Arianna says with some bitterness.
"A rotten worm does indeed infect an entire apple..." Simeon sighs, "It seems it will be hard to undo such influence."
"Well, they'll have to figure something else out... Which is what I would like your input on, professor," Primrose looks to the scholar, "I have an idea that involves reviving the Parlor... but under a different administration. One more... owned by the workers, if you understand what I mean."
"Owned by the workers?" Cyrus thinks and looks to Arianna and the other former Parlor workers, "... Ah, is that what you mean? Hmm... I am unfortunately not so well-versed in practical business so much as the theory but... I don't see why this wouldn't work... It's the same business to attract the same capital?"
"Sort of. It came to my attention that... in my old workplace, worse demons take root after you cut off the head and leave it be. Learning from that mistake, I thought it would be a temporary fix, perhaps..." Primrose glances to the former Parlor workers, "It's not the best line of work... but you each came here to find a way to support yourselves nonetheless."
The dancer called Luffie seems a bit hesitant. She finally nods and speaks up, "I... I had done such work for most my life... and I don't think I could find anyone else that would take in someone like me with no training and such a history..."
Arianna rubs her arm awkwardly, "... I am... of the same sentiment."
"... Right. If it is what you do and can do, there is no shame in it," Prim nods, "But you shouldn't be abused and treated like an object simply because they pay for your time. Like I said before, this is your chance to change how and where you work."
"But... we ain't business people!" The dancer named Henriette protests, "We don't got the money to run the place... 'specially now that it's all nothing but tinder!"
"That ... is a valid point," Simeon sighs and looks to Primrose, "Is the plan to perhaps get the town to fully fund this new endeavor?"
"I can surmise that the Parlor was likely funded from the ground by an external party... It must have been something powerful and rich..." Cyrus rubs his chin.
"Yes, the Obsidians," Primrose sighs, "They have reach across the continent, not just here. They could fund the place, keep it running, and give kickbacks to keep everyone paid and quiet."
"Well, I'm afraid we don't have that capability..." Simeon shrugs, "So... my flower, you plan to get the town heads on your side about this, or...?"
"Something along those lines. If this town is going to be angry at a loss of revenue, why don't they pick themselves up and make a replacement? Otherwise, they're just going to languish," The dancer says as-a-matter-of-factly.
"That ... may not sell so well put bluntly like that..." Olberic lightly pinches the bridge of his nose, "But... you are leading this so... I will defer to you."
Primrose winks, "I'll manage somehow."
No one seems to notice her lightly clasp a hand over the necklace covering her chest.
...
Kalv was surprised when the pretty dancer in red herself came out to greet him and Ford when the two came back to the house. Richter went off to go see about Susanna alone.
"Good morning, gentlemen," Primrose smiles to them from the porch, "My companions say you wanted to speak to us about something?"
Kalv clears his throat, "Why, yes. My beautiful dear, we were just curious about what happened the night at the Parlor... I believe I spoke to you that night about old boy Oren."
He had been placed under her charm that night. Primrose knew this. This was also why she was a bit confident in her strategy. He's not some hard-hearted one like Oren.
"Mister Tavernkeeper, I'm flattered you remember our conversation," Primrose nods, "I, too, wish to tell about what transpired... Won't you both come in?"
The interior first floor of the house had been cleaned up a bit and only the former Parlor workers are here, along with Cyrus. Primrose had told Olberic and Simeon to go upstairs with everyone else.
"Ah... ladies, so good to see you safe," Kalv looks to the women with a smile. They don't seem to return the gesture.
"I'm afraid all we have is water," Primrose offers.
"No, no, we are fine... Ah, and this is...?" Kalv looks at Cyrus as an odd one out.
"I am Professor Albright of the Academy of Atlasdam!" Cyrus announces.
"Ohh, you were a patron of the Parlor, then?"
"Uh, no, not at all," Cyrus is taken aback by the assumption, "I'm afraid I find no joy in such an environment."
"Oh? My apologies for assuming... Then whatever brings some city folk out here?"
"Ah, well-"
"We aren't exactly here to discuss that, are we?" Primrose interrupts with a sweet smile, "But, to be brief, the scholar is one of the friends of our group that came to town... I don't believe you'd been acquainted."
"Indeed not..." Kalv nods slightly, "But you are right, my dear. We digress... Me and my man here, Ford, came to ascertain some ... rumors about what happened that night after you and your friends had arrived in town. You went to the Parlor, did you not?"
"We did," Primrose saw no point in denying that. Kalv literally saw her off in Ogen's carriage.
"And... what happened there that night? What was your business there?" Kalv seems to be watching her closely.
"We arrived to the Parlor and were welcomed in. I had gone to the Parlor to find work, seeing as they offered jobs similar to what I was familiar with in Sunshade," Primrose answers without batting an eye.
Ford gives a slight grunt, as if he expected that answer.
"Ah, yes... I was remiss to not notice. Your skills on the stage... You had entertained before and still do now," Kalv nods, "So you were looking for Rufus."
"Yes, the one running the Parlor... This is where I will now ask you, Mister Tavernkeeper," Primrose folds her arms, "You know what happens in the Parlor. You know how the workers are treated there?"
Kalv narrows his eyes a bit, but he finds his tongue unable to hold itself at her question, "... They are... whores. Yes. Everyone in town knows this."
That earns him some looks of reproach from the nearby former workers.
"And the selling and buying?"
"... It's nothing unusual," Kalv pulls a bit at the collar of his shirt, "That is how the business is run. If you worked in it as you say you did, you surely know this is true."
"Indeed, I do. I also know how demeaning it is to be beaten and spat on by patrons that they think they can treat you like an object simply because they paid money for your time," Primrose takes a slight step forward, "Our profession is not a kind one. And it is made worse by willful blindness and ignorance."
"... And so?"
"And so! This town has profited off the silent suffering of the Parlor workers. Now that the Parlor is gone, the town seeks to shun those that brought it any infamy in the first place," Prim's eyes glimmer with a slight red sheen, "I don't think that to be very fair, Mister Tavernkeeper... do you?"
The soul's strings become apparent to her once more. This man's soul is familiar to her by now. He is in the palm of her hand.
"... I... suppose it isn't..." Kalv says a bit haltingly, much to Ford's surprise. The warden doesn't say anything, but he does look with incredulity at Kalv, who has gone off script.
"I think the town should acknowledge this. If there really is a need for something like the Parlor to bring you prosperity... it should be acknowledged at the very least who provides it... and they should not be shoved aside into the shadows," The dancer says in her hypnotic voice, "Tell that to your headman. Gather the town. Find a solution."
Kalv merely nods.
"L-listen here," Ford finally speaks up a bit urgently, "That's good and all, but that doesn't answer what the hell happened. A freaking fire broke out there, for god's sakes. There were bodies. We're trying to find out about any foul play, missy."
Primrose eyes him like one might a yapping dog, "... I don't know how the fire began. By the time I'd noticed it, the entire place was aflame. I think it was some accident with some candles, maybe? It wouldn't surprise me... some of the patrons seemed the kind to get rough."
"Well... what about you ladies?" Ford looks now to the other women with a slight glower.
"..." Arianna hesitates before speaking up, "It was... Father Eschard."
"What?" Kalv and Ford both ask at the same time.
"He... He requested candles... many of them... we were in the bed with canopy drapes... The curtains were so close and..." Arianna bites her lower lip.
"Hmm, that certainly would be hazardous..." Cyrus rubs his chin, "What a careless man."
Arianna continues, clutching her shawl, "The fire spread... I passed out from the smoke and he ran out himself..."
"..." Kalv deeply inhales and sighs, "That is... fortunate that you survived. Now, we perhaps have a clearer picture."
"Well, what the hell do we do?" Ford looks to him, "Richter ain't gonna be happy if we do nothing..."
"If you really are that reliant on the Parlor, then you will do what I said," Primrose interjects coldly with a venomous smile, "Show the town exactly what is the price of their choice in commerce. Let's see them decide if they want to raise the Parlor... and if they do, they will have to pay an apt price this time."
...
"What is it, Richter?" Susanna asks loudly.
"Erm, can we not speak inside?" The headman asks with a meek smile.
The old woman scoffs and hobbles down her steps up beside Alaic. From the window on the second floor, H'aanit takes a peek through the slit of the blind door to watch the gathering. Behind her, Ophilia is still asleep.
"Out here is fine," Susanna says brusquely, "Out with it. What did you come for?"
"Er... It's just about the travelers in town... They came by just a day or so ago?" Richter chuckles awkwardly, "I was wondering whatever possessed you to allow so many people into your exclusive home!"
Of course, people were not ignorant that H'aanit and her party gained entry in the seer's house. They came and made a spectacle even knocking Alaic down after all.
"I can let any I so desire into my home, no?" Susanna raises an eyebrow at him.
"Well, I mean... that wasn't meant to be taken so confrontationally!" Richter scratches his graying hair, "We're just being thorough, you know? What with the Parlor gone and all..."
At the mention of that, some onlookers turn away, as if they did not want to hear any further on the subject.
"Ahem, yes... We were curious if the travelers had anything to do with it."
"Is there any evidence of this?" The old woman asks with irritation.
"Well, the place is ash, now! We're trying also to get their account but... well, I cam just see if they had said anything to you... We worry for you, Susanna, you know?"
"Right, right..." Susanna rolls her eyes, "Well, rest assured, Richter, I don't know anything about it. You know I don't have a liking of anything to do with that foul place... Honestly, it's better that it be gone."
Richter drags a hand down his face, "Yes, yes, I know full well that you have your... differences with the members of the Parlor... but we take such a thing very seriously! People were killed! Hurt that night! We're still finding bodies in the ruins!"
"And? What's done is done then."
"If those travelers are responsible for that damage, they should be held accountable, no?" Richter folds his arms, "You can't possibly be so obstinate, Susanna."
"Hmf, you clearly have no idea what tree you bark up, Richter," Susanna waves a dismissive hand, "Go see with Kalv and the others and see what they found. They probably had a more fruitful search than you."
"... Was that a fortune?" Richter sounds surprised.
"Take it how you will! Just leave me to my peace! I have nothing more to say to you," The old woman now turns to return inside.
Alaic stands like a glowering wall looking down at Richter as Susanna bids him leave. The headman nervously adjusts his hat and mumbles a goodbye before scurrying away. Susanna returns into her home and scoffs, shutting the door behind herself.
H'aanit and Linde both share a glance as the brief meeting ends.
"Rowrr..." Linde flicks her tail lazily.
"... Aye, Susanna indeed be formidable... she hath not an inch given to the headman..." The huntress sighs and stands, "We musten thanken her."
She and the leopard go downstairs to find Susanna seemingly bottling some concoction near the stove.
"...Needen thee any help?" H'aanit offers.
"Do I look like I can't bottle my own potions?" Susanna scoffs, "Bah, I've lived here managing for myself this long, you know? It's not like Alaic knows a thing about cooking."
"Whatten hath thou meant when thou sendeth the headman off as thou hath?" H'aanit walks over and smells a whiff of the brew using the herb-of-grace.
"The fool came alone. His friends are the tavernkeeper and the warden. The tavernkeeper is like a town ledger, knows everyone's business. And the warden is their muscle. I suspect he sent the other two to see your friends," Susanna explains.
H'aanit seems a bit apprehensive at that, "... It seemeth I hath much missed with this Parlor affair..."
"Well, it's not a pleasant place. And it really is much better that it burned to the ground. But now you and your friends are suspects. That pretty one in red with you all might have a plan, though," Susanna shrugs, "She seemed a shrewd one."
"Primrose... hm. Mayhaps I should go se'en them after all this time," H'aanit sighs and removes some of the bandages from herself, "Mine wounds hath healed well 'nough."
"Well, don't go and get in trouble," The old woman flicks her spoon at the huntress' direction, "It's the house by the river. If you don't know, ask Alaic."
"Hmm... I musten check on Ophilia first."
Susanna suppresses a small chortle as the huntress returns upstairs. Linde gives a n expression of mutual sentiment.
"That grandchild of mine..."
Around this time, Alaic receives a message from the newsboy that is a sort of courier for the tavernkeeper. Kalv is calling a small meeting in the town tavern.
...
The word of the tavernkeeper spreads quick. As a man with a nose in everyone's business, few want to lose his good graces. The gathering takes place at noon, and the tavern hands out spiced mead and ciders as people pile in with their thick coats. Many faces are all the same; they are wondering what this is about. Perhaps the awkward silence will finally be broken, considering that everyone more or less knew about what happened with that unspeakable Parlor...
People turn heads when Kalv takes to the stage and clears his throat. With him are... gasps arise. Those are the women of the Parlor! They are not of their usual numbers, being reduced. But many of the townspeople know these faces nonetheless... Jura was sometimes an errand girl for Sandra, coming around the general store to pick up some last-minute make-up components. Henriette would scrounge up her earnings to come to the tavern and drink with some regulars. Arianna was often seen walking around town, strolling leisurely. The women all seem apprehensive.
There is a stranger on stage, though... but still recognizable. People had seen the dancer in red strut about Stillsnow, standing out like a flag in a snowy battlefield. She came a few days ago, right? She regaled many eyes with her dancing...
Kalv begins to speak. He invites the woman in red to come up and also speak alongside him. She speaks of her time entering the Parlor for the first time, finding work... and then the conditions there that no one wanted to know of. The truth that the town collectively buried for so long slowly is unearthed, like a scab being pried off after bring picked at.
By the end of the talk, a gloominess has set in the tavern. Richter and Ford are among the ones at the sidelines. Neither seem very happy.
"So, now that you all know the truth behind the Parlor, what do you all think this town should do?" Primrose now asks the audience, "You likely resent the loss of the business, however ill-deserved... but can you really not conceive of a better solution?"
There is silence and uncomfortable glances, even grumbles. Primrose expected as much.
Kalv is the man that then raises his hand beside her.
Happy New Year. I guess.