Chapter 6: Persuasions and Plans

  Adon surveyed the five disparate individuals settled around the sturdy table, the warmth of the nearby oil lamps reflecting in her wide blue eyes. She took a breath, pushed down the cold core of calculation, and summoned the persona she’d carefully cultivated for moments like these – the bright, slightly naive, privileged merchant’s daughter.

  “Oh my gosh, you guys actually came!” she exclaimed, her voice pitching slightly higher, infused with a bubbly enthusiasm. This was who they all knew Adon as, and with the stakes at play, nothing could shake their perception of her. She beamed at them, clapping her hands together lightly. “This is so awesome! Thank you all so much for rearranging your super busy schedules.”

  Before anyone could respond to this opening gambit, a cheerful knock sounded, and the door swung open to reveal Foster, the innkeeper, his round face wreathed in a smile.

  “Everyone settled in then, My Lady? Wonderful!” he boomed, expertly balancing a tray laden with mugs and napkins. “Now, what can I get for everyone? More cider? We’ve got a lovely Summer Stout on tap today, or perhaps some wine? And you simply must try the stew if you haven’t already!”

  The company placed orders amidst a comfortable murmur – ale for Marik and Jimothy, cider for Willow, water for Agrippa, and Cedric requested a specific vintage of Eulatrian red that Foster nodded approvingly at procuring. Adon added an order for a platter of cheeses and bread. “Foster, your cheese board is, like, legendary,” she added with another bright smile.

  “Only the best for you and your guests, Lady Adon!” Foster beamed, jotting notes on a small slate. "Stews all around then?" He pointed his chalk around the table to a series of nods before stopping at Adon. "More stew?"

  "Sorry, one was enough for me!" She proclaimed before glancing at Willow and whispering "trying to slim right now".

  Foster put his slate and chalk into his apron and said, "We will take care of all it immediately!" before bustling out, closing the door firmly behind him.

  An awkward silence momentarily descended, broken by Jimothy clearing his throat. “So, Lady Adon,” the gnome began, his voice practical, “your invitation mentioned a matter of mutual interest?”

  “Totally!” Adon agreed brightly. “But, like, let’s wait for the drinks, okay? No point talking serious business on an empty stomach, right?” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “Has anyone heard any juicy rumors recently?"

  Cedric took a long pull on his pipe, considering before contributing. “Have you guys hear about those people vanishing on the Civil Road in the Veil? Entire caravans will be walking towards the capital, Sixcix, and then never arrive. Similarly, people leaving Sixcix sometimes vanish without a trace.

  Adon widened her eyes dramatically. “So creepy! There must be something in the jungle that’s getting them.”

  Willow gasped softly, her rainbow curls bouncing. “Getting them? Oh, that’s dreadful! Are they sure they’re dead? Perhaps they just got lost?” Her brow furrowed with genuine concern.

  Marik grunted, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “The Veil’s always been dangerous, but organized disappearances… that’s different. Disrupts trade. Needs looking into. I wouldn’t mind checking it out myself.”

  Cedric, swirling imaginary wine in an imaginary glass, added smoothly, “Indeed. Any disruption to the Civil Road impacts Fischholme directly.”

  “Not anymore than those kobolds to the east in the Forsaken lands.” Marik said, leaning back in his chair.

  “Kobolds?” Agrippa asked quietly, looking up from examining the intricate pattern on his worn leather bag.

  “Unfortunately yes.” Marik elaborated. “Apparently, a whole tribe of them are hitting merchant caravans coming out of the Forsaken Lands. Very bold for such small creatures! Someone said they even managed to steal a shipment of Thureman silver last week.” He wrinkled his nose. "Disturbing, but also impressive for such small creatures.”

  Jimothy snorted. “Kobolds are clever trap-makers, not usually bold enough for open robbery on that scale. Unless someone’s organizing them.”

  “Or they found something that made them brave,” Agrippa mused, his eyes distant for a moment.

  Their discussion was interrupted by the reappearance of Foster, who strode in with a confident air, his presence commanding attention. He was accompanied by a server, who struggled slightly under the weight of trays heavy with drinks and a platter brimming with an assortment of cheeses, crusty bread, and fruit. As the mugs were distributed among the gathered friends, another server entered carrying the bowls of stew. The rich and inviting aroma of the hearty stew wafted through the air, drawing appreciative murmurs from the group. The light-hearted banter that had previously flowed so freely began to fade, giving way to the satisfying sounds of pouring liquid and the soft clinking of mugs as they were raised in toast, creating an atmosphere of camaraderie and contentment. Adon could feel the warmth of the gathering enveloping them all. The small talk had served its purpose, breaking the initial ice, allowing Adon to gauge their moods beneath the surface pleasantries.

  At a lull in the conversation, Adon set down her cider mug, the bubbly persona receding slightly, replaced by one of earnest gravity, though still filtered through the heiress mask.

  “Okay, so, the real reason I asked you all here,” she began, leaning forward slightly, making eye contact with each of them in turn. “You guys know I’ve been doing my… nighttime training thing, right? Practicing, getting stronger, for when I eventually, you know, help Dad more with the business?” She saw nods of understanding; her cover story as the 'Dockside Specter' training diligently was apparently well-accepted.

  “Well, during one of my… excursions,” she continued, lowering her voice dramatically, “We were trying to stop these associates of Sterling & Sons – seriously, so sketchy, totally undercutting Dad’s contracts – and we found something completely crazy hidden in their main office!” She paused, widening her eyes for effect. “Like, behind a secret compartment and everything! It was this portfolio full of official documents – deeds transferring ownership of, like, the Old Salt Wharf? And permits to chop down trees in Orc territory down in Allurna? Stuff like that! And they had signatures from super important people, like Councilman Lowe and that big Trade Minister dude!”

  She leaned back, shaking her head as if in disbelief. “But here’s the totally messed up part – they’re fakes! Like, really good fakes, but Tark looked super close, and the signatures are wrong, the wax seals are weird… it’s all bogus! It looks like someone, probably a forger based in Allurna, is making these things to mess with Fischholme, maybe frame people or steal stuff from afar! It’s way bigger than just smugglers cheating on contracts; it’s like some huge, creepy conspiracy! Isn't that crazy!?”

  She looked around the table, gauging their reactions to this carefully framed revelation. Marik looked grim, Jimothy intrigued, Willow concerned, Agrippa quietly attentive. Cedric puffed his pipe, his expression unreadable.

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  “So,” Adon continued, her tone shifting toward purpose, “I realized… someone needs to go to Allurna. To Fillsarda, probably. Find out who this forger is, who they’re working for, and, like, stop them before they cause a total catastrophe for the whole city, you know?”

  A heavy silence followed. Then, Willow spoke hesitantly. “Allurna? But… that’s across the Veil, isn’t it? That’s… a very long journey, Lady Adon. And dangerous, especially with the disappearances on the Civil Road. We would have to pass through Siscrix wouldn’t we?” Apprehension flickered across her face. Similar looks of doubt surfaced on the faces of Jimothy and Agrippa.

  “Totally!” Adon agreed readily, perhaps a little too brightly. “Which is why we’d need, like, a super amazing team!" She turned to Cedric, putting on her most charmingly inquisitive expression. “Ceddy, you know everything! What kind of stuff would people even need for a crazy long trip like that? Besides, like, snacks?”

  Cedric lowered his pipe, opened his mouth as if to impart wisdom, then paused. His eyes unfocused, gazing blankly at the wall behind Adon. He blinked slowly. “…Snacks?” he murmured vaguely, then seemed to forget the question entirely, his attention suddenly focused on his bowl of stew.

  Adon waited a beat, then forced a light laugh, rolling her eyes playfully to cover the awkward silence. “Okay, maybe later, Ceddy. Point is, it’s a big trip! When I realized this was something that needed doing I thought about all my friends and contacts in the city and of course you 5 came to mind!

  "Ceddy, you have experience on these cross-continental trips! Think about how helpful you would be. Marik, we need someone bigger and stronger than a guardsman, especially if we run into what’s make people disappear on the Civil Road! Jimothy, who knows what things may break on the way where we would need someone to repair them! Agrippa, I know you have this whole returning things to their owners deal, I bet there are some grandmas who need help along the way!"

  "Grandmas?" Agrippa asked.

  "You know! Grandmas! they always are needing help with stuff. I bet we could find a few to help. And of course Willow, with whatever dangers we face, I bet we will need someone to heal us if things get tough!"

  Marik Gotov shifted in his seat. He looked not at Adon, but briefly at Jimothy, then back at the table, his expression resolute. “Allurna,” he stated, his voice rumbling. “My own path may lead east eventually. I am always down for adventure and whatever lies in wait… I will go.”

  Willow’s eyes widened slightly. She looked at Marik, then at Adon, then seemed to find courage. “Well,” she said, her voice gaining conviction, “my goddess teaches us to confront darkness and help those harmed by deceit! If people are being hurt by these forgeries… then yes! I believe I should go too! To offer healing, and… and perhaps learn some new recipes along the way!” she finished with a burst of enthusiasm.

  Jimothy, seeing Marik committed, donned a quiet smile - his teeth white against his dark beard. “Sounds like you’ll need things fixed, built, or blown up along the way. Count me in, Lady Adon. I heard of some new technologies being developed out that direction that may become of interest to me.”

  Agrippa watched the exchanges, his quiet gaze thoughtful. He finally nodded slowly. “Tracking down the source of such items… aligns with certain principles I follow. And ensuring their return to a state of… legitimacy. Yes. I believe my skills could be of service on this journey.”

  All eyes turned to Cedric. He seemed to snap back to the present, blinking. He looked around the table, assessed the determined faces, then gave a slow, enigmatic smile around his pipe stem. “Well,” he said smoothly, as if no lapse had occurred, “it seems you have your specialists, Lady Adon. Such an ambitious venture certainly requires… careful management of resources. Perhaps my expertise in logistics and finance could prove… useful. I will join you on your quest! Let us right the wrongs before us and bring order and justice to Fischholme."

  Adon beamed, clapping her hands again, her persona back in full force. “Oh my gosh, you guys! This is AMAZING! We’re totally going to be the best adventuring team ever!” She practically bounced in her seat.

  A charged energy hung in the Storm Cellar room for a beat as the weight of their collective agreement settled. Six individuals, wildly different, now ostensibly committed to a perilous journey east based on the word of a young woman, they knew only through carefully constructed facades. Adon could almost taste the mix of apprehension, excitement, and calculation swirling in the air.

  Remembering an important detail, Adon continued, “Okay, so, like, super quick turnaround though. There’s a Resha river barge full of cargo, The River Maiden, heading upriver towards the Veil tomorrow morning. It leaves the dock at, the top of the 5th hour!”

  Just as someone might have voiced a practical concern or second thought, the heavy oak door swung inward. All eyes snapped towards the entrance. Elf Montray stood there, his imposing Dragonborn frame filling the doorway. Elf's expression was polite as he carried a satchel by its neck. He held it easily despite its obvious weight and stepped into the room. Elf moved directly to the table and, with a dull, resonant thud that made the tabletop vibrate slightly, placed the bag squarely in the center. The clinking sound from within was unmistakable.

  “Initial expenses for the journey, My Lady,” Elf stated kindly to Adon, his voice a calm rumble. His gaze swept deliberately over each member of the newly formed company – lingering perhaps a fraction of a second longer on Cedric’s evaluating stare – before returning to Adon, awaiting her acknowledgment.

  Adon carefully maintained her mask of wide-eyed, almost childish delight. “Oh! My! Gosh!” she squealed, lunging forward to grab the top of the satchel. She hefted it slightly, letting the coins inside cascade against each other with a loud, satisfying clink-clank-jingle. She peered inside, blue eyes sparkling. “Whoa! Jackpot! Look at all this!” She pulled out a handful – mostly heavy gold coins from the Riverlands mint.

  She dropped the coins back with another loud jingle and turned beaming to Willow, grabbing her arm excitedly. “Okay, Willow, first expense: We absolutely have to celebrate! Forget prepping tonight! There’s this totally rad place down in the warehouse district, The Salty Siren? They have the best deep-fried oysters, seriously, to die for, and this amazing singer from the jungles of the Veil who does this whole fire-breathing thing! It’ll be epic! We could totally dance!”

  Willow looked enthusiastic about the idea, "That sounds like so much fun! I don’t have an oyster recipe yet, maybe I could talk to the chef about what they do!”

  But, before Adon could elaborate further on the dubious merits of dockside taverns, Elf cleared his throat softly – a sound that nonetheless cut through Adon’s chatter like a sharpened knife.

  “My Lady,” Elf interrupted gently in a way that instantly quelled her bubbly tone. He stood perfectly still beside the table, a bastion of Draconic propriety. “May I remind you that the River Maiden departs the Resha private dock at precisely five-thirty hours tomorrow morning. The currents wait for no one, and Captain Vorlag adheres strictly to schedules.”

  Adon visibly deflated, letting go of Willow’s arm and slumping slightly. She directed a dramatic pout at the butler. “Ugh, Elf! Fine! Total buzzkill.” She sighed theatrically, tossing her blonde hair back over her shoulder. She forced brightness back into her voice, though the underlying steel was momentarily visible. “Okay, okay! Serious business then. You heard the man, we should get prepared!"

  She turned back to the butler. “Elf, can you arrange the largest closed carriage the manor possesses? Immediately, please. We’ll all return to Resha Manor now to gather personal effects and finalize our essential supplies. There’s ample room, and my father is… indisposed this evening.” She offered the group a reassuring smile. “We can coordinate everything there before heading directly to the docks before dawn.”

  Nods of agreement, more sober this time, went around the table. The initial excitement or apprehension of joining the quest was now channeled into the immediate, practical reality of a pre-dawn departure.

  “I’ll need space for my primary toolkit and my infusion reagents,” Jimothy stated, already mentally packing. Jimothy also needed to let his co-workers know he would be heading out on a trek.

  “Are cooking supplies already aboard the River Maiden, Adon, or should I prepare a full travel kit?” Willow asked earnestly, her mind clearly shifting to her cooking passion.

  Marik glanced at Adon. “Standard watch rotations aboard? And what’s the expected security complement on the vessel itself?”

  Agrippa quietly tightened the drawstring on his odd bag, while Cedric produced a small, leather-bound notebook and made a discreet notation with a silver stylus.

  “Excellent questions,” Adon said quickly, projecting confidence. “We can cover all those details en route to the manor and once we arrive. Elf will assist with stowing any larger gear.” She gave Elf a meaningful look.

  “As you wish, My Lady,” Elf replied with a slight bow, already turning to leave the room, presumably to bring the carriage around front.

  The energy in the Storm Cellar shifted entirely. Chairs scraped back as the group stood, gathering their cloaks and belongings. The air filled with conversations of planning – discussions of weapon maintenance, essential supplies, messages that needed to be sent before disappearing on a long journey east. The disparate individuals were already beginning, tentatively, to function as a unit, bound by a common goal.

  As they filed out of the room, ready to depart together into the Fischholme evening, Adon allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction. The first, most difficult step was complete — the party was assembled. Pieces were moving according to her design, funded by Resha gold, facilitated by her Patron’s agent. The journey east, towards the anonymous Allurnan forger and the heart of the conspiracy, had begun. Although, the path ahead was fraught with danger, not least the challenge of managing this volatile collection of personalities and secrets, but Adon felt a cold thrill mix with the warmth of the sapphire ring against her skin and the power humming on her wrist. Control felt closer than ever.