As night fell, the party returned to the Canal District. On a hunch, Sylas used a magical scroll to reveal invisible creatures. He saw Gustav. The sallow, thin man was perched on the aqueduct in dark robes.
Gustav motioned for Sylas to come closer. “You’re the one who betrayed us”, Sylas muttered, shaking his head. “You’ll come here. We’re not moving”.
Gustav eventually agreed and worked his way down to Sylas and the party. After a tense confrontration, Gustav explained he knew nothing of the trap. He placed all the blame on Lis. She had always been the contact between Gustav and the Sultan. If she said a meet was arranged, who was Gustav to argue when she had always been reliable in the past? She must have decided to trap the party for her own reasons. Gustav promised the matter would be dealt with.
More importantly, the Sultan had agreed to meet the party at his mansion.
The party needed rest – but they wanted to be free from traps and prying eyes. Sylas took the lead and navigated through dark backstreets until they reached the Sailors’ District undetected. They entered the Devil’s Grin Ale Shack. The proprietor was a rough former sailor, Renton ‘Devil’s Grin’ Morden. He had gained his name because his teeth had been filed down to points.
Even though he was blunt and his inn squalid, the party felt much more at home with these poor, honest locals than with the games of the nobility. Addie tipped Morden a few extra coins. The following morning, the party enjoyed simple fare of hot smoked kippers, fresh pastries, and cold juice from local stalls.
As the city sprang to life, the party headed to the Sultan’s mansion, a wonder of marble architecture. They were led into the main hall. The Sultan’s friend Sylvia was playing a melancholy tune on piano as sun streamed through the glass and shone upon motes of dust in the air.
This time, the Sultan appeared to be real. He promised Sylas he had vital information about the attack on Sylas’s village – but first, Sylas needed to do two more favors. The “prison job”, he explained, was only the payment for meeting the Sultan and opening negotiations. To get the information required more work.
The Sultan wanted to discredit two candidates for the vacant post of Mayor of Northfrost: Banden Indarys, a small-time noble, and Carisa Llethri, a reputable merchant.
Plotting against Indarys was challenging work. The party received some paperwork from the Sultan. It was official Northfrost archive paper used to record the status of various citizens, but it had a blank space against the record of Banden Indarys. The party entered a few lines claiming their victim had “molested a halfling” and “raped an ogre”…
No one could dispute official paperwork. But only if it were to be found where such paperwork resides: the Queen’s Library.
So the task was simple: visit the beautiful, ornate gardens of the public library, and find a way into the secure section that housed the city’s official records.
If the party were spotted, the forgery would not be believed. So, it took a complicated combination of manouvres. Augustus slipped into stealth and broke into a locked cabinet. Egos kept watch. Garrius found some power crystals that maintained the force-field protecting the archives… and he snatched one.
The protection was momentarily disabled. Augustus seized the opportunity, snuck forward, and hid the forgery in the archives. The party left – but not before Egos borrowed a copy of “Luteus Maximus” by Norvin Bentley.
“You ever heard of that wannabe Mayor, Banden Indarys?” Sylas said to a passing guard. “Listen, check the archives, that’s all I’m saying”.
“What has he done? His reputation is spotless–” the guard retorted.
“Just check the archives”. Sylas walked away.
One down. Next was Carisa Llethri. She had arranged to give a speech that evening at seven, in the Harvest Market. All of her loyal supporters were gathered to hear her words… They had no idea what was about to happen.
Llethri was dressed in fine white robes. She looked perfect. As she began her speech, Augustus blended with the shadows. He approached her from behind… and kicked her up the arse.
Carisa Llethri, a firm candidate for the next Mayor of Northfrost, appeared to stumble and fall for no reason at all. She fell onto a banquet table of cooked food and goblets of wine. Her robes were ruined. Staunchly, she returned to her feet, and continued the speech.
Augustus kicked her again.
Sylas quickly cottoned onto the plan. He started to whisper rumors among the crowd that Llethri was clearly drunk. She had a problem with alcohol. She had downed several glasses to steady her nerves before the speech. What other explanation could there be? How could someone like this be trusted as Mayor of such a large city? The crowd didn’t want to believe it. They protested violently – but she kept falling over. With no other logical explanation at hand, doubt slowly settled into their minds, and talk spread on the grapevine…
Dirty work done. The party would return directly to the Sultan’s residence to get their hard-earned information.