Empirical Gnollage: Installment 93 [https://squirrel.dogphilosophy.net/Installment093.png]

Al groaned in complaint the next morning as his internal organs demanded he wake up and go visit the privies. He forced himself to sit up and paused for a moment to evaluate his condition before standing and shuffling out into the hallway. He didn't actually feel too bad, just a light headache from dehydration, a little disorientation from waking up and walking around so quickly, and the discomfort from the urging of his guts. Bote was already awake and engaged in quiet prayer. Wikwocket seemed to be missing as well. Al wasn't feeling comfortable enough to bend over and look under his bed for Gruntle so he closed the door and hurried down the hall to take care of the biological necessities.

"'Morning, Al!" an unexpectedly-appearing Wikwocket said as he nearly ran into her and Gruntle rounding the corner. "What's for breakfast?"

She was barefoot and wearing her towel-toga again, virtually silent as she walked. That made sense to Al, considering how small and light she was, but he still found himself surprised that someone as big as Gruntle could move around almost as quietly.

"It's too early for this," Al answered, shaking his head, "I'll think about that when I get back." He hurried past them as his innards gave a very audible gurgle of warning.

Al returned to the party's room some time later, feeling better and glad that he'd had the presence of mind not to overindulge on the cheap wine. He entered to find Bote and Wikwocket examining a sheet of paper with a fine calligraphed message on it, while Gruntle crouched nearby looking bored. Another rolled and sealed piece of paper and a similarly sealed piece of parchment waited on Bote's nightstand to be examined.

"What is it?" Al asked, leaning over to look. He sighed and cast a reflexive melodramatic glance at the ceiling to beg the heavens for mercy when he saw that the letter began with To the Gnoll Party.

"Our host Stephen has delivered three separate messages addressed to us. This one is from the magistrate of Hell's Bathtub, requesting that we join her for midday luncheon to discuss our job and, of course, to pay us. She wishes to hear the details of our findings so that she may determine what we are owed, and what information the survey crew may need to know," Bote summarized.

"That sounds positive at least. And the other two?"

"I think we all know who this one is from," Wikwocket answered, picking up the rolled and sealed paper. She turned it so Al could clearly see the wax seal, which had a stylized spider on it.

Bote picked up the rolled parchment. The green wax seal bore the image of a cow from the side, with exaggerated udders and small curved horns. "I am not familiar with this one, but given the use of more expensive parchment rather than paper, I would guess the seal belongs to someone of means."

"Now that we're famous and successful adventurers, it's probably some noble family beset by an ancient curse and they want to pay us vast amounts of gold to delve into the tombs of their ancestors to put down a terrible undead menace and break the curse!" Wikwocket explained.

"That's an oddly specific prediction," Al teased, "and a lot more charitable than what I'd have guessed you'd assume a noble person wanted."

"Hey, money they give to us is money taken away from the nobility," Wikwocket said, "though you have a point. Maybe it's someone who thinks they can buy Gruntle from us."

"They can't have him," Al snapped. "Uh... if that's what they're after." The recent hardships and regular mortal peril lately seems to be getting to me, Al thought. "So...what does it say?" he asked.

Bote broke the seal and unrolled the parchment.

"Your presence is requested," Bote read aloud, "The Lady Darla FitzWayne cordially invites the delightful gnomish lady to bring her beast and her other companions for refreshment and conversation regarding the matter of your beast at midday tomorrow at the FitzWayne residence, 12 Milkstone Lane, Hell's Bathtub. Please send word if unable to attend."

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"Regarding the matter of your beast?" Al asked, giving Wikwocket a suspicious look. "What did you two do?"

"Nothing! Well, nothing bad, probably. It says we're cordially invited, that's good, right? Maybe she's a fan of us harassing the other nobles."

"Maybe," Al considered. "but I'm not sure I trust her. Noble connections and money might lead to some strange feelings of entitlement. Wait...when did we switch places on this? Why do you seem so comfortable with this one?"

"She said we're delightful and it sounds like she's offering us free food, probably fancy noble food, even! She can't be all bad! Don't you want to go?"

"Well, maybe. If the FitzWayne family is friendly, they might be beneficial to have a good relationship with. I'm just not sure what their intentions are."

Al gave the situation some thought. "I suppose since she wants to discuss Gruntle, it should probably be up to him." He looked to see what Gruntle's reaction was.

The gnoll grunted. "I like food," he said.

"Of course you do," Al said, rubbing his forehead. "All right, but I'm going to be unhappy if she tries to buy him for a zoo or something."

"If they do, we can get to work on that downfall of the nation stuff to get revenge. Welcome to the revolution, Al!"

Al shook his head. "And I assume that last message is from Cyrus, what does he have to say?"

Bote broke the grey spider-marked seal, which fell apart unnaturally into tiny sand-grain-sized bits on the floor. Bote unrolled the paper and frowned.

"It simply says, 'This message was not for you.'"

Bote turned the paper around so Al could see it. This message was not for you was the only visible writing. "Is this some sort of prank?" Al wondered aloud, feeling annoyed.

"Let me see that!" Wikwocket insisted. She took the paper and looked it over with a grin. "Not bad, you had me going there for a moment. We'll turn you into skilled actors in no time!" Al watched skeptically as she traced her finger slowly down the blank space on the page as if reading.

"Let's see, he says we're invited back to the Secret Spring for dinner at sundown again. He writes that the mysterious cause we're caught up in now approved of our results with the thing we subdued, and...oh, good - Al, he says they're arranging access to the former library for you," she said, turning the page towards Al and pointing to a particular spot on the blank page below the This message was not for you.

"How much of this are you making up on the spot here? Did you get a message from him?" Al asked.

Wikwocket gave him a puzzled look.

"Wizards do have to know how to read, right?" she said, pointing insistently to the blank page. "He goes on to say he has some suggestions about getting into Southwall, too."

"Neither of us see anything but 'This message was not for you' at the top of the page. Right?" Al asked Bote, who nodded in agreement.

"Is this magic paper?" Wikwocket asked, wide-eyed as she quickly read through what she saw on the paper again. "What about you?" she asked Gruntle, shoving the paper towards him. He squinted and Al watched the gnoll's eyes slowly scan back and forth across the page. Gruntle began to drool.

"Says there will be much meat," he said.

"Ah," Bote said, nodding, "a magical method for secure transmission of messages. Presumably the writing conveys the true message to the reader intended by the writer, while showing a misleading message to anyone else."

"So it is magic paper!" Wikwocket exclaimed happily. "Hey, Al, do you know how to make the magic paper?"

"What? No, I don't. Besides, it's probably not the paper that's magic, it's probably the message itself, or maybe the ink...and no, I don't know how to make that kind of magic ink."

"Oh," Bote said quietly, staring unfocused past Al and Wikwocket with a growing smile. "Thank you. I shall endeavor to be worthy of it."

"What?" Wikwocket asked.

"Al may not know how to craft and use the ink for this, but it seems this secret has been granted to me for the performance of my duties. The crafting of the ink requires some costly ingredients, though, so please avoid asking me to abuse this authority for pranks."

"No promises!" Wikwocket threatened, wondering what sort of mischief she might accomplish with illusionary documents.

"Please don't spend all of our pay to play tricks on people," Al pleaded.