“Corona, would you please record Guardsman Wernst's testimony.” Tristan said, taking a seat across from the man in question.
Corona nodded, her eyes going unfocused as she turned her attention to whatever System generated tool she had to keep notes.
The guardsman in question looked uncomfortable. It was not an unusual state to be in when being questioned by an Arbiter. Yet, Tristan’s instincts told him that this man felt guilty about something that he was worried Tristan would uncover.
They had already interviewed the man’s partner, one Xander Bravic, and the man had regurgitated the official report he’d given the other night without alteration or embellishment. He’d been so calm that Tristan had very nearly not bothered interviewing Wernst, all too aware of the passage of time. Now he was glad that he had persisted.
“Please state your name for the record,” Tristan began.
“Arnold Wernst,” the man said, looking back and forth between Tristan and Corona, apparently confused as to why neither of them was visibly writing anything. Tristan again noted the difference between this man and his partner. Guardsman Bravic hadn’t so much as blinked at the apparent lack of any official recording, nor had he questioned it. Tristan decided to satisfy the man’s curiosity with a simplified explanation.
“My assistant has a skill that allows her to record your statement in a System generated interface. If your statement proves material as evidence, we will have it written out and presented to you for review and signature,” Tristan told him. He left unsaid that if needed Corona could also testify to the original recording’s accuracy, should Guardsman Wernst choose to recant his testimony at a later date.
Oddly, this explanation seemed to make the man less anxious. “So, the only record of this is effectively in her head?” he asked. “No written evidence unless you need it for something?”
Tristan paused. This was going in a different direction than he had expected. “I only plan to make use of it if it is required in the courts, or if the Duke himself requires a written account of the evidence. Do you have something to say that you would prefer not be part of the official record?”
Wernst shifted again. “It’s just that, well, the people involved with this business. You know.” He paused meaningfully, then continued as if the statements were connected. “They’re good people. I know you’re only concerned with justice, but I’d hate to get good people in trouble with The Law when they’re only trying to scrape by.”
Tristan thought he knew what the issue was now. This guard was afraid of two things, hurting people he considered well intentioned if not exactly innocent, and his own employer reading his testimony. Some subterfuge would be necessary to ensure that Tristan could testify accurately.
“I understand, guardsman, but I’m afraid your statement must be made available to the Advocates should your testimony be evidentiary in court. Please proceed with all accuracy and attention to detail.” Tristan looked the man in the eyes as he spoke, willing him to understand.
The man hesitated, then began recounting the events of the night much as they were in the original report. The only differences between his and Bravic’s testimony were that Wernst referred to the suspects by their given names, a detail Tristan didn’t fail to note.
When he’d finished speaking Tristan asked a few questions, the same ones he’d posed to Bravic. Here there were more differences, but nothing that stood out to Tristan as suspicious. Wernst recounted exactly what Bravic had pulled out of the hidden compartments, laughing as he did so, while the other man had simply referred to them as “personal items.”
“Does that conclude your statement, guardsman?” Tristan asked.
“It does, sir,” Wernst said, beginning to rise.
Tristan motioned for him to sit back down, causing worry to flash across the other man’s face again. “Arnold, since we’re done with official business, I have a small confession of my own to make - do you mind if I call you Arnold?”
The confused guardsman looked at Tristan warily, obviously unsure as to what was happening. “You can call me whatever you like, sir.”
Tristan shook his head. “That won't do, I’m on break right now. Please, call me Tristan. If you have a moment, why don’t you share a quick break with me while no one is expecting us to be anywhere else.”
Wernst eased back down into the seat he’d been hovering above, his eyes narrowing. “Sure… I was planning to take a minute to myself after this anyway.”
Tristan smiled at the man, the expression feeling odd on his face even as he willed it into existence. “My confession is that I absolutely love to gossip, but I get so little chance to do it given my duties. I’d love to hear it if you knew any interesting gossip from your adventures patrolling the city… Gossip isn’t legally admissible unfortunately, or else I’d love to pursue it during my official duties.”
To his side, Corona let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head.
Wernst also relaxed again, a smile spreading across his face as well. “Ah yeah, I love to gossip too. As a matter of fact, I do have some juicy stories for you. Things I’ve overheard and such, hearsay and all that, probably none of its true but still amusing.”
Tristan leaned forward, interested in what the man had to say for the first time since he’d begun giving his statement. “Do tell.”
“Heard this one from one of my friends… Not Bravic. Can’t remember who. They said they were on a personal contract, off duty and all so nothing official, when this shop they’re guarding gets hit by a local gang of thieves. Anyway, the thieves nick this really valuable piece of merchandise from the shop in broad daylight because the damn fool merchant has more money than sense and has it on display in the shop window, right by the door.”
Wernst seemed genuinely offended by his employer’s carelessness. “So, the guards chase the thieves out of the store, but of course they’ve planned their getaway. One of em, this big guy that looks like he’s made of chiseled granite, picks up and throws the little one carrying the loot up onto a building, and she drops a rope down for him to climb up. Clean getaway. Or it should have been.”
“Now, as I hear this happened just the other day, you understand that some of the details might have gotten a little confused given everything that’s happened, but I swear. I mean, the guy that told me this swore, that this specific building is the first one in the city hit by one of those red flashes. We… I mean they–were looking straight up when it happened, yelling at the thieves to give themselves up. Then a second after they pulled back from the edge of the roof the whole building practically explodes.”
Wernst took a minute to pull a flask out of inner coat pocket, winking at Tristan as he did so. “Break flask. Want some?”
Tristan shook his head but didn’t comment, waiting for the guard to continue his story.
“So anyway, the roof caves in, part of the wall falls over, and the guards are left scrambling trying to figure out what happened. One of them, not the guy I talked to, says he saw the big guy on the roof next door, but then he loses him. By the time they get access to the building, there’s nobody inside except for a panicking shopkeeper. The back room of the shop is a wreck, but there’s this weird circle that’s cleared of debris, and a rope hanging down from the chimney.”
“It takes a while for the guards to get back to the shop and tell their boss the bad news. Fortunately for them the explosion made it so on duty guards showed up quick-like and took over there. Things hadn’t started totally going to the pits just yet.” Wernst took a long drink from his flask, then continued.
“When they make it back, they tell their boss the bad news. The thieves got away, but it’s probably fine because they’ll never be able to sell that thing anyway, it’s too unique. They tell him it will probably show back up in a week or two, and that it probably just got stolen for the Thief experience.”
Wernst's expression turned grim. “That really should have been the end of it, but this merchant, he tells them that they won't have to wait because he has a tracking spell on the damn relic. That’s perfectly reasonable for something so valuable you plan to store in your shop’s window, but this is the first time he’s mentioned it. I… I mean the guard - looks at him and notices that he’s smiling, like he’s enjoying this. This guard hasn’t seen him smile once before, he always looks bored, or annoyed, but now he’s excited.”
“So you probably know that most of us guards are pretty familiar with the local ruffians, and this guard thinks he recognized the two thieves, even though he only got a look at them from a distance. Nothing he could prove obviously, and definitely not enough for a Lawpriest to sign off on a search. The guard also knows these two are part of a family of orphans, and that their caretaker is responsible for keeping half the poor folk in the city free of some nasty diseases and injuries. She’s one of those grandmotherly types that treats everyone like family and never takes payment for anything.”
“Now this merchant is saying he can track the stolen property, and this guard is afraid it’s going to lead right to the home of these kids and their guardian. Well… I say kids but most of them aren’t, they’re just young and stupid, if you know what I mean. In the eyes of the Law though…” He shook his head sadly. “Then this merchant asks him what the punishment is for theft of a sacred relic valued at over five thousand gold is, and the guard can tell by the look in his eye that he already knows the answer and just wants to hear it again.”
Tristan raised an eyebrow. “Over five thousand? That’d get you your choice of thirty years in prison or the loss of your hand.”
Prison terms in Altria were artificially high by design for crimes beyond a certain level, it was expected that a convict would find at least some treasure if incentivized to do so with a high sentence. It wasn’t just, but Astraea had little say in the laws of this country, let alone this city.
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Wernst nodded. “He has a price sign sitting right there on the shelf next to where it was sitting. Five thousand gold and one copper… as you might imagine by this point the guard, being not a terribly bright man, has realized that this relic was bait all along. This merchant, for some reason, wanted this to happen. He couldn’t prove it though, and under the Law it wouldn’t really matter. Worse, the thief is a goblin, so thirty years isn’t even an option. Even if she pulled a damn fortune out of the dungeon, she’d be looking at most of her life spent in jail.”
Oddly the guardsman began to look guilty again. “So, I… I mean the guard – he comes up with a plan. He’s figured out his boss is most likely a sick bastard, in it for the pain. He’s seen men like this before, and figures that the only chance these kids have is if he gives the little freak what he’s looking for. “
“So, when they find the place, and it turns out to be the house this family stays in, he finds the girl and makes a point of roughing her up right in front of the bastard. Really leans into the pain and humiliation because he can tell the pale git is enjoying it. He thinks it might be the only way to save the girl’s life, or at least her hand,” Wernts said, contemplating his own hands as he opened and closed them.
So, this was the source of the man’s guilt, Tristan thought. He feels bad that he treated the girl poorly, and it ended up not even mattering. Because of course, that’s where this story led. The girl wasn’t in jail for theft; she was there on a warrant because there had been reasonable evidence of theft. That meant there wasn’t proof.
“That’s where things started getting weird. Tavi, she’s the girl, acts like she doesn’t know she’s one wrong move from at best losing a hand. She starts mouthing off to the merchant, to the guards, to anyone that’ll listen. They don’t find the stolen merchandise, and the merchant’s tracking spell suddenly stops working. The girl is trying to get herself killed, so I… the guard lies to his employer, says a death warrant is way more expensive than it actually is and prays the sick fuck didn’t actually check.”
Wernst rubbed his forehead. He was clearly stressed simply remembering the event. “Anyway, the lie works and he settles on an arrest warrant instead, but that’s not the end of it. When he’s gone, the guards go to take her in, and she’s still a ball of rage lashing out at everyone.”
He paused, noticing Tristan’s confusion. “You got to understand, this guard, he’s known this girl basically her entire life, and she should know better than to think he’d hurt her without good reason, but she acts like she’s never seen him before. Then, when he tries to figure out what’s wrong, she tells us she doesn’t remember much of anything except for the past hour or so.”
Tristan gave the man a questioning look. “She lost her memory? Why? From the fall when the building collapsed?”
Wernst leaned back in his chair for a moment and looked at the ceiling of the interrogation room. Apparently not finding anything there he returned his eyes to Tristan.
“That’s the fucking thing. She pulls up the bandages on her head and she’s got this fucking jewel lodged in her forehead so deep it’s obviously cracked her skull. Narani, that’s the old lady, says she had to heal Tavi’s concussion when Lucus, that’s the other thief, brought her in. She says the girl nearly died, and nobody doubts it ‘cause the girl has a fucking rock lodged in her skull. The old lady says she’s worried taking it out will kill her, so she healed it into place until someone more skilled could look at it.”
Tristan had to restrain himself from standing up and marching out of the room right that moment. He needed to speak with this girl, and it absolutely could not wait. He calmed himself however, and asked, “So what ended up happening to her, is she still here?” He was terrified that she’d gone missing or died in the dungeon.
“Well, see, it gets even weirder. Later that night, the other fucking kid, Lucus, who hadn’t been around during the search - he just shows up at the prison and turns himself in like he’s showing up for work. He was on the same warrant as Tavi, so we take him to a cell. Nothing to be done about it. I… Well I’m curious about the whole thing you know, so I check in on them the next day. Turns out they went into the dungeon with Arven Wyse’s group.”
This time Tristan couldn’t stop himself. He stood up so quickly his chair fell over. Before he’d even realized it Tristan found himself leaning over the table, hands pressed into it as if he was about to crawl across it to get at the man on the other side. He tried to rein himself in, but only partially succeeded.
“Wyse. They went into the dungeon with Wyse. He’s serving a life sentence. Why would two people on an eight-day warrant go into the dungeon with Arven Wyse?”
Corona was looking at him like he’d gone crazy, and Wernst looked terrified, but Tristan couldn’t help it. The only reason he was in this blasted city was Arven Wyse.
“I… I don’t know. He leads a party deep into the dungeon. They lost some people at the river not too long ago. I thought it was strange they’d join up with him. His party is usually made up of people that don’t have any other hope of getting out without a big find,” Wernst stammered.
“Who else is in their party?” Tristan asked, and as he did, he realized his hands had cracked the thick wooden table. It was in danger of breaking.
“There’s Savas, a rogue that keeps making bad decisions and getting into debt. Dorian, he’s that chanter that got drunk at the Duke’s gala, got tossed in for singing that song about the Duke’s son right to his grace's face. I half think he got himself arrested just to meet Wyse. The last one is Dawn, she’s a priest we caught summoning a devil about three months ago. She’s here on a fairly light sentence all things considered, but she seems especially eager to get out.
Tristan stood up and said a brief but fervent prayer of thanks to Astraea. This was it. This had to be it. That group? This place? A Traveler who somehow wasn’t a Traveler? It was all too much, the pieces were falling into place, and even though Tristan couldn’t yet see the whole picture, he knew he was on the right track.
“She’s no doubt trying to get out to complete the summoning,” he mused. “It makes sense that she’d attach herself to Arven, even weakened as he is. I'm sure few people in here are a match for him, and no one else is so driven to lower their sentence. Were the others sent in to help get her out I wonder?”
“Uh… sir?” Wernst said, any pretense of this being a casual conversation now gone. “She did complete the summon. We got there too late. The damned succubus flew out through one of the windows. It’s gone though, we watched it fly out of the city and into the forest. There’s been no sighting of it since.”
Tristan had long known that with great strength came a need for great restraint. One could not possess the power to level buildings without also possessing the wisdom and willpower not to do so except at great need. Briefly he considered if The Adversary’s test might be nothing more than seeing if Tristan himself would snap and destroy this cursed city all on his own.
The fact that no one had told him, an Arbiter of Astraea, that a devil had been summoned inside the city not three months ago was frustrating. That they had apparently assumed that just because the damned thing had flown off didn’t mean it couldn’t fly back under the cover of night was downright maddening.
“Thank you for your testimony, and your gossip, guardsman,” Tristan said, making his way to the door. “I need to speak with the members of Wyse’s party, particularly the goblin, so please excuse me.”
“Um… sir?” The guardsman said again, this time in a small voice.
Tristan paused with his hand on the door, waiting for the man to speak.
“They’re in the dungeon right now. They let us know this morning that they’d be in there overnight too.”
From somewhere else in the prison, an alarm began sounding. Tristan allowed his head to come to rest against the wooden door with a soft thunk as he closed his eyes and took in these new developments.
“Of course they are,” he said, opening the door to guards darting about, following well established procedures for this situation. One guardswoman had apparently come to alert them herself, as she was a mere step from the door when he opened it. She had just begun to raise her hand to knock.
Wernst swore, getting to his feet and putting away his flask. Corona simply looked confused. “Sir?” the woman at the door said. “The warden told me to let you know an event has started, and the dungeon is being sealed.”
“Yes, I can hear the alarm, thank you,” he said, walking out of the room. Then he stopped, realizing something. “If Arven Wyse or any of his team exit the dungeon before it is sealed, they are not to be allowed out of the containment area until I am personally summoned to question them. Make sure everyone knows it,” he told her, then strode off, waving for Corona to follow.
“What’s going on?” she asked him, jogging to keep up.
“The dungeon is experiencing a global event. This is a mechanic not unique to this dungeon, but this one has something of a reputation for such things. Prisoners have mere minutes to evacuate the dungeon before its entrance will be sealed shut with a massive enchanted stone that will completely block off their exit.”
He had to raise his voice to be heard over the alarm and bustle as they approached the epicenter of the commotion. “This is done because the first few times an event occurred the city was nearly destroyed when a wave of undead monstrosities the likes of which no one had ever seen before poured out of the dungeon. It’s also why this prison exists, rather than allowing the dungeon to be freely accessed by willing adventurers.”
Corona paused and fell behind for a moment, then caught back up as Tristan strode into the mess hall, guards and prisoners both breaking around him like a rock jutting out of a river.
“Are you saying they’re going to seal the prisoners inside?” Corona asked, her voice clearly laced with rage.
Tristan stopped and looked at her. “Yes, they will. They have to. What comes out of the dungeon would kill them anyway and it cannot be allowed into the city. You haven’t seen it, so take my word on it that this is necessary. Those inside know to flee quickly or seek shelter.”
Then he was moving again. He didn’t mention that this early in the week an event meant that everyone trapped inside would likely die of thirst before it ended. Some would make it. He knew that some people brought in extra supplies just for this situation, but events almost never happened this early in a cycle. This might actually be unprecedented. It was going to catch even careful prisoners off guard.
The two of them arrived in time to see a guard yank one last prisoner out of the way before another guard pulled a lever, releasing the massive stone seal from its resting place, and allowing it to roll into position. The lever was then pushed back up, and a ker-chunk was heard as mechanisms buried within the stone walls activated, locking the stone in place.
Finally, Wizard Toury began checking the stone and its enchantments, ensuring that everything was working correctly. Tristan didn’t interrupt him, but began checking for other, less obvious points of failure.
From his training with the royal guard Tristan knew that when everyone’s attention is on the most obvious source of threat, sometimes other more subtle threats would go unnoticed. Creating a distraction remained a very useful tool for anyone wishing to move unseen, and so Tristan focused his attention everywhere but the sealed door. He was prepared for just about anything to go wrong.
But nothing did.
After a few moments the wizard activated a scrying spell, and they watched as obscene tendrils of flesh crawled their way out of the darkness, questing at the edges of the stone seal. The stairwell began to fill with black liquid, and faces appeared in the darkness, dead faces that screamed soundlessly even as they occasionally vomited up black grubs that swam about in the dark liquid.
A ghoul appeared, and it beat its fists against the stone until nothing remained of them but broken stubs. This continued as more and more undead appeared, clawing and even biting at the walls around them as if they knew the living waited on the other side.
Tristan walked over and stood next to the lever that would withdraw the lock on the seal. This alone was not enough to remove the stone, but it did prevent it from being rolled back to its ready position. Tristan intended to stand here beside this lever until the event ended, and if necessary, would defend it with his life.
He was certain that The Adversary’s plan involved this dungeon in some way, but if so, perhaps the event had not been in the plan. It might represent a setback rather than a goal. Likewise, the party with the priest and the strange Traveler was still inside, and The Adversary didn’t tend to discard his agents so easily.
Still, if there was anyone in Altria that Tristan believed might be able to survive under these circumstances, it was Arven Wyse.