The smell of chamomile tea tipped Ben off to his guest as he approached the door to his home in the livery stable. To be honest, he wasn't totally surprised. Diego came by to talk on a regular basis and often stayed the night rather than return to Rowan Keep. He'd become somewhat of a fixture in the area, taking long walks to visit with everyone in Sedgewick, the farmers in the Hamlets, and even some of the more colorful non-human residents. The unassuming old man seemed genuinely happy to learn each person's story and fit together the puzzle that was Sedgewick. The only place he never went was Gadobhra, other than to stare at the city from the gates.

Ben saw he had made himself at home. A fire was burning in the small hearth, and the scent of chicken soup in the pot mingled with the tea. There were worse things to come home to, Ben admitted. And it wasn't even out of the ordinary. It seemed to Ben that Diego could forget he was an Inquisitor, putting aside his job and acting like just a simple, helpful old man, putting everyone at ease. It was one of the things that made him so dangerous. Even knowing this, Ben always found himself opening up to the old man.

Tonight, Diego was sitting in the most comfortable chair, pulled close to the hearth, and was leafing through a collection of old papers, chuckling to himself. He looked up as the Courier came in. "Ah, there you are, Benjamin. You work so hard, I wondered if you would make it home tonight. Be careful, you may not need much sleep, but that doesn't mean you are always your sharpest. Dreams can bring wonderful insights."

Ben helped himself to a bowl of soup. He was famished after the long day and now his stomach complained bitterly. Blowing on the hot bowl to cool it, he took a seat across from the Inquisitor. "Wise words. I keep saying that I'll catch up on both sleep and dreams, but lately, things have been busy. Tonight seems like a good time to turn in early and see what dreams might come."

Diego sipped his soup, then spoke casually, "A good plan, it limits the time you have to speak to a nosey old man and gives you more time to dream. And who knows what wonders a young Franklin might invent on a good night's sleep? How much does your Uncle Damien get? He certainly has no dearth of ideas."

Ben's spoon stopped halfway to his mouth. He paused for a second, put the spoon in his mouth, and sat back in his chair, thinking. "A question I don't think I can answer. I'm sure I mentioned inheriting his bedroom. The existence of a luxurious bed, silk sheets, and monogrammed pajamas implies that he sleeps. But Damien, as we are all aware, is not a normal person. And historically, we do find many instances of mad scientists working through the night, and ranting from the rooftops of their castles in the darkness, defying the hordes of well-armed peasants dedicated to destroying them. I'm not sure I'd sleep much if I had to deal with angry peasants. Especially in Sedgewick."

Diego nodded, "Oh, especially in Sedgewick. That was very good, Benjamin. A small pause, but you can claim that you often get questions about your notorious relative. You gave me information, and all of it true, but didn't touch on his whereabouts at all. But you do bring up a very good point, and one of the most important things that I have to consider when I ponder what to put in my reports."

"Silly me, I assumed that as an Inquisitor, you only reported the truth."

"Always the truth, my boy, always the truth. You can't be caught lying if you don't lie."

Ben quirked an eyebrow, "So, you put everything in your reports?"

Diego laughed, "Of course not. Too much a paper trail and some people can't handle the truth."

"I see, you lie by telling only part of the truth."

Diego nodded slowly, "Of course I do. The Inquisitions sent me here for information on Gadobhra and I have sent them information. But I don't trust all of my peers. Some are less than pure, such as the one you stuck your sword through. A lovely sight that was. But I digress, the Inquisition is made of men, and men can be power-hungry and pious. Those who seek power would use my words one way, the the pious would gather their peasants and lead a disastrous attack on that ancient city. Lots of losers if that happened, and few winners. Although...the Baron does seem to know how to turn a sow's ear into a silk purse. I always loved that expression, even if it shows my peasant upbringing."

"You mean because it reminds people of your peasant upbringing. People would be less nervous around a peasant than a noble, and I expect many Inquisitors are from the upper levels of society."

Diego slapped his knee, "Splendid. I'm glad you see that. Yes, people expect a noble to have power, but not a peasant. In fact, a peasant with power can be their worst nightmare. They don't know how to deal with me. I'm an unexpected puzzle piece they don't know what to deal with."

Ben smirked, "And no one expects the Inquisition!"

"Goodness, I hope not. It would make my job so much harder."

Ben stood, yawning, "Well, we wouldn't want that. But I think I'll take your advice and get some sleep."

Diego stirred his tea and said, quietly, "Not until we discuss your uncle Damien and how he came to be here in the lands of the Butcher Baron of Gadobhra."

Ben sat back down, sighing. "He put far too much faith in those silly disguises working."

Diego handed Ben the papers he held, "On the contrary, I doubt anyone at the keep besides myself recognized him. He's changed his looks many times over the years and muddied the waters by living so long. If he kept his mouth shut I might have thought him just another eccentric Professor from the new University."

Ben looked through the papers, every one of them a wanted poster for the notorious criminal, Damien Frankin. And every one of them gave a different description. The portraits were hand drawn and often embellished with horns, demonic eyes, a crazed laughing face, and strange clothing. Height, weight, and hair color, (or lack of it) varied considerably. "This is quite a collection you have here." He handed them back to Diego.

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"Nearly complete. Collecting wanted posters and trading them is a pastime I never outgrew. I even have his Rookie Poster, from his first brush with the law. He was still a young Courier back then. He found out that the Baron of Blackwood was charging his peasants double their normal taxes, so he intervened, stealing the tax collector's carriage and strong boxes, and riding off into the forest."

"In anyone else, I'd guess that he gave the money back to the peasants, but this is Damien we talk about."

Diego sighed, "Yes, that would have made a good story, but as Damien pointed out to his accusers, it would have solved nothing. The Baron would have just collected the money again and raised taxes. Instead, he took the money to a dwarven arms merchant and returned with pikes, cheap armor, and crossbows. The peasants organized into a well-armed mob and hung the Baron and his tax collectors after a trial the next Sunday. There would have been a long siege, but Damien also created a remarkably effective bomb created from dwarven mining explosives. It took down the front gates and most of the towers."

"I'm surprised they gave the Baron a trial."

"It's traditional. A trial and hanging attract crowds and are a good excuse for a celebration and summer fair. Damien claimed he was a sword of the emperor's justice, pointing out that the peasants had elected a new ruler, and the area was doing much better with less crime and a better economy. Many people agreed with him, even Harmonia."

"Then why the wanted poster?"

"Those were put up by all the surrounding Baronies. Social change and democracy aren't appreciated if you're going to be the one losing your head. Change is messy, even when it's needed, and not everyone agrees. Damien mostly got away with that little event, which is why his Rookie Poster is so hard to find. They only did one printing."

"But now?"

"Oh, now he is wanted everywhere, and not all of his escapades can be written off as doing some good. Madness doesn't always care for what happens in its wake. Some of his 'experiments' have only been a success in his eyes. He's roamed the Empire and many parts of the world, and no one has contained his appetite for disaster. Until you, of course."

"Me? Me! You expect me to keep Damien under control?"

"You already have. Or didn't you notice? I don't know all the details yet, but it's easy to see the shape of things. Damien and Vladimir have been friends and rivals for several human lifetimes. While he might have allowed Vladimir to rot in that tower, he wouldn't have allowed him to die in that disaster. If only to hold it over Vladimir's head. When he found out that Winter was sending two dragons to assault the tower and cause havoc with the Mage Guild's mana distribution system, he found a way to save his friend. Needing someplace new to hide, he came to visit his nephew, now living in a cursed, ancient city where he could easily keep a low profile."

"Yes, I was quite surprised to run into him. Leastwise since I'd taken possession of his room at Franklin House, and some of his heirlooms. He's quite possessive of some things."

"So, he comes to visit his nephew, but what he didn't expect was to find such an intriguing project going on. He and Vladimir must have been chomping at the bit to become involved. You convinced him to use his intellect for good and kept him from doing anything disastrous. Imagine that, Damien Franklin used science to benefit the Empire. No one would believe me if I told them. He and Vladimir are now under the protection of the Baron, which is wonderful. He'll stay in Gadobhra for the time being, in a place that we hardly care if he destroys. I have an agent on the inside, keeping track of his every move and urging him to lay low. For someone like him, that's the best we can hope for."

Ben's head was spinning. "I must confess, I hadn't thought of it that way. But you're right. If the Emperor sent a thousand soldiers and mages into Gadobhra, Damien could simply hide while the city chewed up the invaders."

"Yes, Gadobhra will not be conquered so easily. The best I can hope for is containment, and, like the situation with Damien, I have found people who will work to keep Gadobhra from becoming the threat it once was."

Ben had a sinking feeling. "Might I enquire who you mean?"

Diego smirked. "Certainly, my boy. After all, you're one of them. As are all the people in Sedgewick. The village is like a cork holding back the evil of Gadobhra. It's still a highly volatile situation, but you and your friends are doing far better at containing that city than I'd ever dreamed possible. Even the Baron plays his part."

"So where do we go from here? Weekly reports and me spying on people in exchange for your reports telling only part of the truth."

"What, oh, heavens no. I know better than to meddle with a good plan. You carry on as you have, now with the confirmation that I am watching and keeping the full Inquisition out of your hair. We can catch up over a meal and a glass of wine now and then like we always have. Why mess with success?"

"Well, the soup is gone. I can run to the inn for a bottle or two of wine. I'm no longer tired and find myself needing a drink."

Diego held his hand over the table and tapped his signet ring. Six bottles of wine appeared. "No need, I came prepared. After all, we still haven't talked about the other small problems you can assist me with, such as the threat of Winter. And please don't worry. If six bottles aren't enough, I have more.