RP:Resources Needed

Part of the Agitation Arc

Summary: Josleen writes to Hildegarde to inform her of the strange occurrences in Xalious and to ask for a recommendation of a good alchemist. Alarmed, the dragon immediately flies to Josleen to ensure the woman is taking the proper precautions in guarding her safety. They discuss the Mage's Guild, and the difficult of investigating an institutional power on whose resources your investigation depends. They also toss around Hudson's name as a potential alchemist who may, or more likely may not, be of use. Finally they discuss Linn, Josleen's co-conspirator, who lets himself into her apartment as if on cue. Josleen feeds both her guests and Hildegarde offers to reward Linn if he keeps Josleen safe. Linn reveals that use of his ring greatly taxes his energy.

Mage's Library

Hildegarde had read the letter expecting some sort of news along the lines of ‘all is well, settling in nicely, will send cakelog soon’ and she was sorely disappointed when she had read the entirety of the letter. There was no cakelog or even a mention of it, but this was the least of her worries. The woman had stormed out of the fort, thrusting the letter into Mikael’s grasp as she made her way to the courtyard and assumed her truest of forms without any warning. The dragon departed Frostmaw in a flurry of snow and ice, her gargantuan shadow cloaking the tower that housed the library and darkening the day as if it were an eclipse. The shadow moved off after a few moments and it seemed to disappear entirely, which was ever so convenient! The knight entered the tower and stormed up the steps as swiftly as her feet would take her; her sole eye whipping around eagerly in search of Josleen. “Jos,” she said, perhaps a little more loudly than she ought to, when she caught sight of the nurse. Hurried steps born of worry took her to Josleen and she is peering down at the smaller woman, as if trying to assess if she had been hurt, had she been scared, who did Hildegarde need to destroy to ensure the safety of her friend and her hometown? The knight’s hand hovered at Josleen’s arm before gingerly and gently settling upon it, “Jos, are you okay?” she asked with concern. Josleen would know the knight was truly worried just in the way she addressed her.

Josleen should have known that despite her insistence that everyone is fine and unharmed, Hildegarde would race down here. There is no gentle way to break bleak news to the steward. Despite the dragon’s well-known penchant for worry, particularly when her friends are involved, Josleen is still surprised and jumps in her chair as the knight approaches. So surprised is she that she drops the pretense of titles and full names and exclaims, “Hilde!” Both Hildegarde and Josleen are promptly shushed by a wrinkled, hunched human mage who wears a permanent scowl. Josleen pats Hildegarde’s hand on her arm and rests it there. “Yes, I am fine. Like I wrote, no one is harmed,” she whispers. Some quick mental calculations estimate letter delivery times and travel time between Frostmaw and Xalious and she asks incredulously, but with an amused smile, “Did you fly? I imagine you gave some people a scare, Mikael among them.” She glances furtively to the librarian then whispers even lower so that Hildegarde is practically lip reading. “I’ll catch you up. Not here. Guild may be involved.” Her lips exaggerate each syllable slowly so that Hildegarde doesn’t miss a word of it.

Hildegarde glanced over at the mage who hushed them, wondering if he had hushed her many years ago as an apprentice. After all, the dragon lifespan was much longer than any human lifespan. She would have been young and so would he, but she was still young by saurian standards while he was teetering towards the end of his years by all human standards. A bleak and strange thought. Yet Josleen’s words pull her attention back into the here and now, the assurance that she was fine, that no one had been hurt – save those animals. “I flew, yes,” she admitted, “I was worried about you.” And Xalious, of course. But Josleen was so close to Hildegarde’s heart that if any real villain wanted to get at her, they would know not to target Frostmaw. “Oh…” she breathes as she thinks of poor Mikael. “I… I tossed your letter at him and flew away, he must be rallying an army or some such,” she said now a little abashed! But while some might need to read the lips of the nurse, Hilde’s hearing is saurian sharp and she needn’t rely on it. She only nods her head, “Wherever you wish to go.”

Josleen laughs lightly and shakes her head at the mental image of poor Mikael worried sick and scrambling to solve problems he can’t yet define. Looks familiar. “You and Mikael are cut of the same cloth in many ways.” She nods quickly as she closes the books on the table and places a pre-written note on top of the stacks: Will Return, Do Not Touch, Josleen, Kyl’oriel’s Ward. Hildegarde likely knows the need for the half-elf to specify that she is the elf Kyl’oriel’s ‘ward’ and not his daughter. Elves who admit to race mixing bring great shame to their kind, but Kyl’oriel loved (and still loves to this day) Josleen’s human mother and their halfling daughter. Thus, publicly the family presents the pretext of an elf scholar who long ago employed a human maid who, when they met, had given birth to a daughter with no father; and in his grand benevolence, Kyl’oriel took her in as his ward. Nevermind that Josleen has his eyes and cheekbones. Nevermind that not a living soul in the village believes the lie. For the most part, their neighbors are kind and play along with the ruse. In private, behind Kyl’oriel’s back, the truth was once whispered by the town’s gossip mongers. Today, the news is too old to be interesting anymore, and yet Josleen keeps her father’s open secret by playing her part. Perhaps this lifetime of playacting different roles in public and private prepared her for her career as a bard. “I don’t think you’ve ever visited my flat, have you?” She says as she slings her overgrown purse on her shoulder and leads Hildegarde out of the tower. “I’ll treat you to lunch in my kitchen.” The walk between the tower and Josleen and Ezekiel’s apartment in the town square is short, but just long enough for Josleen to ask, “How’s Leone faring?”

Xalious Village (Josleen and Ezekiel's Flat)

Hildegarde smiled as Josleen compared her to Mikael. Who wouldn’t want to be compared to the giant? He was a sentinel amongst men, a silent guardian, solid adviser and loyal friend. If Sabjorn was still alive, she is certain that they would be fast friends; that they would be brothers in arms. Sabjorn was a name that would once send pain surging across her body, but now she only missed him and felt an old fondness. That wound had healed, thankfully. The Silver watched as Josleen placed her note, not questioning the terminology of ‘ward’ rather than ‘daughter’. Josleen knew how to handle herself here in Xalious and the knight could trust in her decisions; she knew the politics of Xalious better than Hilde did now. “I haven’t, no. I’d be honoured to, though, and I would be very glad of lunch!” with perhaps a slice of cakelog to go with it, but no need to announce that desire. The dragon was fond of Xalious treats. Nothing like the taste of home! “Leone?” she asks before suddenly remembering her incredibly embarrassing chat with Laezila. “Oh. Oh! Josleen! Laezila told me about your…. Your misconception about me and Leone. We.. We aren’t intimate. We’re good friends, we work together, but we are not… not romantic.”

Josleen grins proudly at the mention of cakelog. Her cakelog is gaining fame — as it should be. Her grin is short-lived and replaced with an embarrassed, cherry red grimace. “Oh.” She rubs at her collarbone nervously. “I-I thought… because you know… and the ceremony… with. And then Hudson said— You know Hudson?” Her voice lilts upwards as if she is ready to shift the blame 100% on the unsuspecting alchemist. “Yes, yep. Mhm.” She nods several times like a work horse trying to plow up a particularly steep hill. That sounds preferable to this. “Oh here we are!” Sweet merciful Sven above. Their flat is on the second floor (aka the topmost floor) of the building which houses the ceramic store. Through a side entrance they climb narrow stairs to a modest, femininely decorated flat. Floral print couch, light brown arm chair, cream-and-gold hand-me-down standing lamp, burnt pink area rug, and a doily on the coffee table beneath a potted plant. The pot is ceramic with blue chubby angel children painted on white. Across the living room is the kitchen, which by comparison is rustic as if Josleen and Ezekiel invested their meager funds in decorating the main room splendidly and left the kitchen for last, then never got around to it. From the attic upstairs, sounds of tinkering can be heard. “Ezekiel,” Josleen explains. He’s basically a prop in this home now. “He sits up there all day inventing things, I suppose. I don’t know. I send up food, he sends down empty plates, and that’s the way of it.” As she speaks she pulls vegetables from a pantry and a chopping knife from a drawer. She closes the drawer with her hip a bit harder than is necessary. Reflecting on marital problems has a way of coloring her behavior with frustrated flourishes. “I’d let him know you’re here, but don’t want to risk the embarrassment of him not bothering to come down and say hello. Anyway. You came for something else.” She heats oil on a skillet and begins chopping vegetables with more force than necessary.

Hildegarde didn’t mean to fluster Josleen, but she wouldn’t let the false words go on any longer than necessary. What was so wrong with being perceived as single? Not that there was anything wrong with lady lovers, but Hilde was a solitary soul. None dared to court her, men and women alike and the loneliness in her life didn’t bother her terribly. “A lovely abode,” she compliments, stooping awkwardly as she stood in the incredibly feminine flat. Of course, Hildegarde looked so out of place here bedecked in her armour; her sheer brawn and size and scarred demeanour. “Well, I won’t disturb him or his work,” she said gently as she glanced upwards, “and you needn’t be embarrassed. I understand his nature,” she had saved him from an ice troll and he was more terrified of her than the troll. “Yes… Your letter was troubling.”

Just like there is no way to break bad news to Hildegarde without sending her into a scramble, there is no way to mention social faux pas’s to Josleen without flustering her. After inviting Hildegarde to sit, and with her back to the dragon as she halves potatoes, she purses her lips at the mention of Ezekiel’s nature. Thankfully the topic returns to the letter. Josleen glances between her counter and skillet and Hildegarde as she cooks. Her movements are automatic, as if she’s very much accustomed to hosting guests and cooking before them. Many village women have sat in the same chair which Hildegarde occupies and gossiped with Josleen as she (or they) prepare a meal. While it could take just five minutes to explain the gist of it all, Josleen fills a half hour of cooking time with a full blown story and details to match: the way it felt when the storm clouds rolled overhead in the valley, how Linn’s magical ring drew a crowd in town, the heartbreaking sobs of Rose Delicate of the day their farm was struck by this sinister magic. Ansel is not mentioned in her story, despite the fact he and Josleen were necking in the valley when birds died. That detail remains buried. Most troubling is the description of the three mages in black robes with red accents: two elves and a half drow. The half drow’s arms, according to Mrs. Delicate, were covered in runes and symbols. The trio squirreled away all the evidence of afflicted vegetables from the farm, and Josleen and Linn suspect they covered up the damage to the foliage in the valley as well. The grass, moss and leaves were replaced by some shoddy magical work. It’s obvious terraforming, and crudely done. What Josleen and Linn can’t puzzle out is whether or not they are truly acolytes of the Guild, whether or not the Guild is aware and involved in the cover-ups, and how deep into the organization, and how far up the chain of command, this may or may not go. Given the proclivities of the current archmage, Josleen fears the worst, but hopes she is wrong. As she talks, onions, garlic, rosemary, dill and trout release their heady aromas into the air. She’s plating both their meals (vegetables, russet potatoes, and trout filet) just as she finishes her story with the perfect timing of a trained bard.

Hildegarde sits down in a chair that she thinks might break under her immense weight. She had long grown accustomed to the furniture of Frostmaw, where everything was large or big enough to accommodate a few humanoids comfortably. This chair felt so restrictive in comparison! How did people sit comfortably? No matter. Josleen is soon telling her story and the knight is listening with rapt attention, taking in the details carefully. Mages in black robes, elves and a half-drow, dead birds, an afflicted farm, runes and symbols. It was all mysterious, so terribly mysterious. “This substance you spoke of,” she begins as Josleen is plating up both meals, “I wish neither of you had touched it. You say it is harmless, but how do you know it is simply not a dormant substance?”

Josleen lets out a low sigh as she serves their drinks. Hildegarde usually takes just water, but Josleen will drink super sugary iced tea and it would be rude not to offer the same to the knight. She carries a pitcher of water too just in case. “You’re right and the thought did occur to me, but by the time I discovered the ink, it was already on my person, and too late to make a choice about it. Linn hasn’t touched it, however, just me. And Farmer Delicate, I suppose.” And Ansel, who again lurks in the wings of this story like a phantom. After pouring Hildegarde’s chosen drink she slips into a chair across the table from the steward and opens a cloth napkin into her own lap. “Dig in.” Good luck with the tiny fork and knife.

Hildegarde accepts the iced tea with a quiet murmur of thanks, copying Josleen as she opens a cloth napkin and sets it upon her own lap. The giants didn’t care for such things, that was true. Indeed, when eating with the Kuronii if you did not leave with stains about your mouth, it was not a good meal. Manners were different throughout the realm. “Linn. I know him,” she had met him a couple of times in Frostmaw now. “So, you think something is afoot. What can I do to help?” she asked the question so easily. She had just dragged her people through war, yet she was prepared to help Josleen in her time of need. The Silver grasped the tiny utensils and tucked into her meal.

Josleen is pleased that the steward knows of Linn and has nothing unsavory to report. Good. Josleen’s instincts about people are usually right, except when they’re spectacularly wrong, like with Laezila. That error has made her question her judgment as of late. “Well.” She sucks a piece of dill out from between her teeth and sips the more-sugar-than-tea ‘tea.’ “I could use an alchemist, I think.” She drags her hands across her lips thoughtfully before adding in a whisper. “Also, an anti-mage? I know they’re rare. I know of two who serve in the patrol here, but it’s run by the Guild — and if the Guild is involved?” Her whisper deepens with her suspicions. The tower which can be seen from every corner of Xalious feels omnipresent, as if it lurks within this very kitchen. “It bothers me that all of my resources, for magic and investigation and research and political clout, are tied to the Guild. I think that’s true of most villagers, and it never really bothered me before but… If, I am only saying if. If the mage’s guild is involved, how can I observe them without alerting them if all my tools are related to the guild?” A bell rings from the attic and Josleen’s lips flap in and out of a half-hearted smile. “Excuse me.” She loads a plate of food, walks to the hallway, pulls on a chord to lower stairs and delivers food to him. Heated whispers exchange back and forth until the sound of a plate being unceremoniously dumped on a desk end the conversation. Hildegarde’s keen hearing may have picked out phrases like ‘you could at least say hi’ and ‘I’m on the verge of a discovery’ and ‘you haven’t moved from that chair all week.’ She returns with empty plates for the sink then resumes her conversation with Hildegarde. “Where were we?”

Hildegarde ate while Josleen spoke of what she might need in order to better investigate the strange occurrences around Xalious. “I know Hudson is an alchemist, but he is the only one that I know of,” the only professional alchemist anyway. “As for… an anti-mage,” she said, frowning slightly, “that is a rare thing indeed. I have small knowledge in anti-magic, but I cannot say I’ve ever known or heard recently of any anti-mage wandering the land. But I can make enquiries for you, if you wish.” The woman nodded along, however, as Josleen voiced concern about the guild and its involvement. It was a valid concern, after all. How does one check and balance the power of an institution with the tools of said institution? It seems an impossible task. Yet as the bell tinkles, the knight offered a little nod and smile and sat in silence as Josleen dealt with the inventor in the attic. The exchange doesn’t please her, but this is not her place to talk. She is in no position to pass comment on these matters. “You were speaking about the guild. But I did want to ask you about Linn and how he was assisting you. He seems… an interesting one. If he does a good job in assisting you, I would like to reward him. I need to know that you are safe, Jos. I need to know someone is here to help you.”

Just as the subject began to turn to Linn, a knock came from the door. He began to creak it open to see if Josleen was inside. Instead he found Hildegarde right at the table, much to his surprise. Wearing the same plates that he did when the saw blade was extracted from her mouth back in Frostmaw, he asked with a hopeful look, “Do you know if Josleen is here?”

Josleen grimaces lightly at the mention of Hudson. “He’s a nice guy, but an alchemist? In name, yes, but in practice?” She resigns with a shrug. Hudson may be her only non-Guild choice. “I suppose it’s worth a try.” The knight brings up Linn again and Josleen can’t help but smile at the dragon’s fussing. “A reward?” She giggles against the rim of her glass and takes a sip as Hildegarde finishes her thought. As if on cue, the bard responds just as Linn arrives in time to hear her say, “I can’t imagine what reward would suit Linn. Or if he even wants such a charge.” Her name brings her up short and she circles the table and Hildegarde to see who has dropped in. In a small town, drop-ins are par for the course, but Linn’s voice isn’t immediately recognizable to her just yet. “Oh, Linn! We were just talking about you. Come in.” The living room is quaint and femininely decorated, with lots of floral prints, soft textures, ceramics, and even a doily on a coffee table. The kitchen is much more rustic in comparison, and it is in the kitchen where Josleen and Hildegarde enjoy lunch. “I heard you and the Steward of Frostmaw have met. Please, have a seat. Are you hungry? I have vegetables, potatoes, and fish.” From behind Linn’s back she communicates through stares alone with Hildegarde, and invites the knight to grill Linn now as the hostess serves him a glass of over-sugared ice tea.

Hildegarde has no time to answer Linn as Josleen is already playing the perfect host and greeting him already. The knight remains seated and smiles as Linn joins her at the table. “It is nice to see you again, Linn,” she said pleasantly, “though I am sure you know to call me Hildegarde and not by some title,” she glanced towards Josleen. She so hated titles. Not so much on other people, but on herself. “I hear you found some… substance… with Josleen here. So you know something is afoot in Xalious. Do you intend to stay? Because if you do intend to stay and assist the gracious Lady Josleen, I would most generously reward you for your efforts.” Hildegarde has no idea if this is grilling. Grilling wasn’t her forte.

Linn gave a wry smile hearing about some kind of reward. He had a good idea of what something he’d want from Xalious, and fortunately the tools he needed to make it worthwhile were working out just fine. He gave a tired nod towards Josleen’s explicit invitation before making his way to the table, setting his pack down with a dull thump. He rubbed his brows after settling down at the table. “Yeah, to everything” was his response to Josleen regarding both Hildegarde and food. It was more exhausted than anything else, a feature that pervaded his entire manner right now; it might seem odd given that much of the previous day was spent copying books. He looked back up to address Hildegarde with half a chuckle. “I don’t use names all that often to talk to people. Not necessary much the time.” He shook his head about the substance. “I’ve only seen the substance at a distance right now. What is stranger is how hard someone’s trying to clean it all up. I came here looking for some help with one of my own projects but at this point, I want to see what these storms all about.” He leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “Nothing like a grand mystery to break open.”

Josleen eyes the way Linn owns his space at her table like a regular visitor or a king in his castle. It doesn’t bother her, he is a guest, but it does strike her as something noteworth, and perhaps related to his exhaustion. “Long night, Linn? Longer than what I know if it?” She serves him a plate of fish with seasoned vegetables and small potatoes, then resumes her seat across from Hildegarde. “Just Josleen would do, Dame Hildegarde,” she teases. How many times have they played this game? It never gets old somehow. She sends the knight a meaningful glance and an arched brow to communicate that Linn perhaps didn’t fully catch the knight’s meaning (as Josleen understands it). Something thuds down on the roof and a male voice swears. Josleen grins falsely through it until the genius inventor’s episode passes. How embarrassing.

Hildegarde smiled as Linn spoke of mystery and breaking it open. Being curious would surely help in this quest, but it could prove equally risky. The Guild would surely be a powerful opponent to go up against or any guild associate for that matter. “Linn. Tell me, do you have much combat experience?” she asked him quite seriously as she raised her glass and sipped upon the more-sugar-than-tea iced tea. Linn tilted his head towards Josleen with a straight look. “The ring takes quite a bit to work with you know. Even the sleep didn’t help that much with the way it left me.” He began to turn the ring in question around his finger, a coil of mithril wires spiraling around to form a loop. The bulk of it implied something else to be kept inside, though it wasn’t visible right now. His head snapped upwards at the thump, with a bit of a smirk at the evident anger at… something. It didn’t sound significant enough to be serious at least. He finally began to eat in an effort to get some of his energy back. He eyed Hildegarde in response to her question before giving a sideways nod. “Nothing very formal, but I’ve had my fair share of fights and surprises to deal with. I could handle myself in a fight if need be.”

Josleen leans on her elbows on the table and clasps her hands together before her chin. Her thumbs work against each other out of habit. “Where did you sleep last night?” She refills Hildegarde’s glass of iced tea, and one Linn finished his plate, she brings out the knight’s favorite: cakelog. If Linn has never tried it before, he’s in for a treat or a barf (diabetes either way).

Hildegarde listened carefully as Linn spoke and watched as he turned the ring. She had seen a ring that was not what it seemed before, a ring that concealed an entire shield within it. She had no idea who had made it, but she could only hope Satoshi still kept it about her person. “Hm. A good fighter is necessary in trying times such as these,” she said softly. “Have you ever considered formal training?” But her attention wavers as the cakelog is brought forth. If it weren’t for being in good company, she’d likely have rumbled her ownership of the cake and ate it all in one go! But she would leave it to her host to determine who got what… though she wouldn’t have minded having the lion’s share.

Linn began to chuckle about finding a place to sleep last night. “Just at the tavern. The keep let me pay this morning thankfully.” He left it there, making his way there while more than half asleep was a small miracle. He stared up at the ceiling, trying to think about the times he looked at formal training before being interrupted by the cakelog being brought forth. He stared at it for a second before tilting his head to get a view of one of the ends, an expression that consisted mostly of disbelief that such an idea was concocted. He cut off a thin slice from the end to set it on his plate before attempting to try it. He shuddered not even a second after beginning to chew, the sweet and rich treat was absolutely overwhelming. His expression wasn’t necessarily of disgust, but this was something he would have to eat –very- slowly. Finally done with that ordeal he returned his attention to Hildegarde. “I’ve thought of it once or twice, but I never spent enough time in any one area to get something like that properly done. It’s pretty much all from hard experience and a lot of close calls.”

Josleen is well-acquainted with Hildegarde’s ADDICTION to cakelog. The portion served for the dragon is four times larger than the portion Linn cuts for himself. Josleen also serves herself modestly. While she loves the overly sweet and thick dessert, she doesn’t love what it could potentially do to her figure. The mixture of sugary iced tea and cakelog leave a gritty film of sugar on their teeth. “Right, so, next steps? Linn and I will take the symbols we have gathered to Mrs. Delicate. I’ll reach out to Hudson.” For Linn’s benefit she explains, “He is an alchemist… sort of. He may be able to help us identify the ooze, or if we get our hands on a sample, analyze it. Maybe.” She remains unconvinced of his utility. “Perhaps we should work in the watchtower, Linn. My reasoning is that from up there we may see the next storm and go chase it, arrive at the scene before the clean-up mages do.”

Hildegarde devours the cakelog that is served to her. She wolfs it down as politely as is possible, but she has an appetite that could feed a small village. So she eats and happily so, for she loves cakelog. All dragons have a food that appeals to them and cakelog is really high up there on Hilde’s list. “And if the mages catch you there?” she asked. “What will you do then? You cannot ask one man to defend against three mages. Nor do I imagine you could talk your way out of it. Josleen, I must say, mages are… they are a frightening lot. What if they could pluck your memories from your mind? How do you know you haven’t done all of this already…? Xalious is your love, I know. But you must protect your mind and your body. Take precautions.”

Linn continued to eat the cakelog in bits much smaller than the fork he was using. Small as the slice was he was going to take a while to eat it. He nodded in agreement to the initial plan, showing a rather notable sign of recognition at the mention of ‘alchemist’. He knew one himself that had worked in enough creepy stuff… “Having someone who works with substances like this would be good. Most I could do right now is recognize that it definitely isn’t normal.” He rolled his eyes upward at the futility of the statement. “Except we have other things to tell us that already.” He expressed some interest at Hildegarde’s worry for Josleen, or at least the potential subjects that could confirm it. “We just have to be ready for the worst. I can make a few surprises for if things actually go that way, but right now our best bet is keeping away from their attention.” At least more of their attention… Some of his displays may have already thrown complete subtlety out of the window.

Josleen bites down on her fork as Hildegarde fusses about the dangers of mages. The knight is absolutely right, and there is no point arguing, and thus Josleen buys herself time with cakelog. Linn saves her from having to provide a rebuttal with his observation on the ooze. She laughs into her fork-wielding hand, nose wrinkling cutely. “Oh, Linn, you do need to rest.” She laughs a little more. “I think even Hudson could provide a little more insight than that.” And finally to Hildegarde she says, “I won’t approach if I see them, but twice now the mages appeared after the event. If that pattern repeats itself, there is a small, relatively safe window to gather evidence. But rest assured that if the mages are present, I will not approach.” She starts to gather the dirty plates and forks in a pile before her, save for Hildegarde’s cakelog dish. “Help yourself to the rest.”

Hildegarde rose from her seat once Josleen assured her she would not be approaching the mages any time soon. “Well, as much as I would love to stay, I ought to head back to Frostmaw. Mikael has surely organised some kind of rescue party for me given the hasty nature in which I departed.” The Silver offered Linn a polite dip of her head, “It was nice to see you again, Linn.” To Josleen, she speaks softly, “And you. You be careful. If you need me, you know how to reach me,” she said before departing from the flat and heading to the Frozen Tundra.

Linn chuckles, shaking his head. “This is why I don’t call myself an alchemist. I could get lucky and see something special in it but I haven’t had the chance yet.” He gave a confirming nod back to the Silver as she made her way out. The topic of the mages returned though once Hildegarde had left. “Those mages are the reason for the cloak and dagger out here. I’m just as worried for the both of us dealing with this.” He sighed and stared forward a bit in thought. “Now how to evade detection by a mage…” he mused. Something in his eyes was too mischievous for his subject to be the two of them. He was looking to hide something else from their attention.

Josleen piles the empty plates in the sink as Linn muses outloud. “I know there’s danger in investigating this deeper, and yet I am not dissuaded.” Upstairs, a bell rings. Josleen excuses herself. Through the hallway, up the stairs, to the attics she goes carrying a pitcher of water. She returns with another empty dish. “My shift begins at the clinic soon. I work as a nurse there. If you need to, feel free to nap on the couch. I let my husband know you’re here, but he likely won’t come down or say hello. We’ll talk when I get back.” As she speaks she tidies the kitchen and gathers her jacket and purse.

Linn smiles at Josleen’s will to continue with their work regardless of what they are going to deal with. Few people are willing to deal with the risks of whatever they might uncover. “That’s a good thing. Just have to be ready for what comes.” He suppresses a cringe at the fact that she had to carry the supplies to and from the attic. Something about that he found just unwholesome. And to a bell of all things! He left that subject for later, electing to try to shake some of the drain from last night on the couch. “Thanks.” Was the only thing he could come up with for the offer before crashing.