by Lars M.
"Meaning I had better get to work on becoming a fully-fledged Chronicler. Got it."
The day flew by. I played two additional performances on top of my usual one. Given that I was at no fear to fall below my requirements, I attributed all three tasks to the sorcerer, using his necklace and neatly paid off my Token debt to him right away. What little time I had left that day, I spent on my Chronicler task. My experiments and notes on Stun Blast were all but done, and I looked forward to starting in on one of the other spells. I got over myself and ate the evening meal at the Academy in order to save the walk. Soon after, I was playing around with Atlas, watching the lengthening shadows.
The task of investigating the two had seemed easier at first glance than it really was. Figuring out where they lived was simple, and as luck would have it, both of them slept in the Academy's dormitories. That's where our luck ended, though. They were placed at either end of the building, and the windows were all guarded by heavy, wooden shutters. Both sets were fastened tight from the inside. After a round of considerations, we ended up splitting up. Atlas placed himself close to one end, and I strolled around the building near the other. There were no obvious hiding places for me, and I preferred the option to lie in response to "what are you walking around here for at night?" as opposed to "why are you hiding there next to the wall?"
The month past, I'd figured that my short bout of involuntary incarceration in Grant’s Crossing when I was confined to inactivity in my tavern room was hell. Hiding from that creepy blond elf with the caravan had taken its toll on me. This was worse. After twenty minutes, I was ready to scream out of boredom. If only I could play some music to take the edge off – but I didn’t want to attract attention, either. After an hour, I started practicing my Humming Touch, simply to keep my mind from imploding. Walking around in circles, waiting for somebody to appear and do something shady, was the epitome of monotony. At least I had Atlas to chat with. His conversation skills were still lacking, but it was better than talking to a wall. Around midnight, I called it. I dropped off Atlas and left to go back to the tavern.
The following days were remarkably similar to this one. I worked on my Chronicler quest almost exclusively, and the remaining time, I spent either with Lyle and Arack in the tavern or with Atlas, spying or goofing about.
One could question why I was spending all that time on trying to discover who'd stolen my map. I'd be hard pressed to come up with a reasonable explanation. Of course, part of it was due to the countdown on the quest. It looked like, if I just let the quest lie, all the possible treasures would soon be gone - which would suck.
Still, that was not the only reason. It wasn't about spite or vindictiveness either. But... well, NPCs don't just steal from you. And if they do, it's magic items or gold. Not quest rewards. I knew World of Chains was all about realism, but everything about this tasted off to me. It felt more like a major side quest than a simple bid for treasures I could easily ignore, and I needed to know whether there was something to my hunch.
One exception to the tedium was an update, showing that the possible result for figuring out who stole my map had deteriorated to a 'mediocre' result. Otherwise, I made decent progress on my Chronicler quest and had a few revelations. I ended up dropping the Sonic Magic classes with a solemn promise to myself to get back to them once I'd managed my other quests. I did keep showing up for creative playtime, though. Both for a much-needed break, but also because I kept trying to rope the others into joining me for my Chronicler research. Most days, I succeeded, too. Progress was slow, but steady. After two weeks in High Hold, I believed that I should be able to complete the Chronicler quest in another week or so. Ten days at the outside.
On top of that, I used the creative playtime to inquire into any new Tokens available for completion. A lot of them were... childish in nature, but I didn't care. The only thing that mattered to me was the result: would I be able to complete it quickly, and how much reputation with High Hold would I obtain? The only notable limitation that I found was that I could only pass my necklace to one person at the time, limiting myself to one Token quest each day.
The first one was... a bit unsavory, but easy.
You have been offered a quest:
Airing Dirty Laundry (Token quest)
A certain someone has been naughty and needs to be outed. Inquire to Gaveline for details.
Reward:
+100 reputation with High Hold.
2 silver.
Accept/Decline?
Turns out her best friend's boyfriend had been sleeping around, and she didn't want anybody to know that she was the informant. I got all the details I needed and set out to compose a little ditty in his honor and play it at the cantina.
Well, I use the word 'honor,' but given the outraged reception from a certain catfolk sorcerer, he wasn't feeling too honored. The reputation gain was decent, though, and I soon added Token quests to my daily schedule whenever a useful one was available.
Atlas and I kept up on our nightly forays to keep an eye out for our suspects. The first handful of nights brought only the certainty of knowing that I would never be able to work as a private eye - the inactivity was too much for me. At least our conversations slowly improved, and Atlas was able to tell me stories about his days - which mostly consisted of boredom, wanting to hunt, and the occasional successful foray against the local birdlife. Even so, hearing him finding his mental words was an amazing experience. I kept impressing the importance of staying hidden upon him, but it didn't take. Every other day, he'd tell me, completely unabashed, about sneaking out during the day to hunt animals or find proper sunning spots outside his hiding place. At least he said that he kept himself camouflaged whenever he was outside. My boredom also resulted in massive improvements to my Humming Touch spell, and I soon found myself able to bounce a coin around on my knuckles using only Sonic pulses.
As for information on Aron or Benjamin? Nothing useful. They would go out every so often - Aron to eat at a tavern nearby, and Benjamin to play at a gambling den. Apart from that, they were the most boring, predictable stakeout suspects ever. I even took to writing my Alliance proposal for the Wisdom, simply to have something to do.
One situation within the bard wing piqued my curiosity, however. I was walking the halls of the bard wing as the shrill voice of Mrs. Gladestrider alerted me to her presence.
"What do you mean, ‘they pressed you for next month's schedule’? I gave you the proper forms a week ago."
"My apologies, ma'am. I still needed the expenses overview from you. In your absence, I left a note on your desk stating the same." Benjamin's voice clearly conveyed how sorry he was, but somehow, it felt contrived. I snuck closer to be able to listen in better.
"Well, I gave it to you. If you misplaced it, you will just have to handle it yourself." Her off-hand statement was a clear dismissal.
Benjamin handled it with grace, however. "Yes ma'am. I promised the same to the clerk."
"You did what?" Her nasal voice rose an octave, and I left the place deep in thought as she continued berating her assistant.
It was just a suspicion, but I decided to act on it. The following day, I asked around about the relationship between Mrs. Gladestrider and Benjamin. The answers I received were uniform in nature. "Benjamin has to pick up her slack constantly," "He's the only reason this place isn't falling apart,"and, commonly, "Oh, she's such a bitch." While I didn't doubt the veracity of that last claim, I was beginning to harbor my suspicions about their relationship. Initially, my queries brought nothing of note. It seemed Mrs. Gladestrider's incompetence was a matter of fact in the bard wing, and nobody needed hard proof to believe it. Eventually, my queries led me back to Carth, the half-orc clerk in the main building who handled all the social matters of the Academy. He was sitting at his desk, perusing a series of hand-written notes.
As he spotted me, he remarked, his kind voice tinged with curiosity, "Ah, Arcangelo. It seems you have been asking some interesting questions late
ly."
Damn. Of course, with all his connections, he'd stay on top of the gossip as well. "True. Erm. Is that alright?"
"Of course, of course. There is nothing wrong with asking questions. We are a learning facility, are we not? Of course, asking pointed questions could get a student into problems. Would you care to tell me exactly what you have been looking into, hmm?" He rested his head on his hand and looked at me with raised eyebrows.
I scratched my neck, looking down. "It's - gods, this is kind of hard to explain. I was actually approaching you to see if you could help me, because I can't find any bloody answers."
"Well, that does sound intriguing. Please continue."
"All right." I gathered my thoughts. "Could you tell me how long Benjamin has been Mrs. Gladestrider's assistant?"
Carth frowned. "Two years and change. Why do you want to know?"
I cleared my throat. "Could you also tell me when Mrs. Gladestrider started being treated as a joke?"
Carth looked taken aback and then just stared at me. "Do you even know what you're asking? That is a very loaded question."
I grimaced. "I know."
He chewed on my comment for a while. "Have you considered the correlation you're trying to imply here as well?"
"I have. Seriously. All I have is a suspicion, though. I'd love it if you could remove that suspicion for me."
My earnest gaze seemed to mollify him somewhat, because he leaned back on his chair and started tapping the table. He was silent for a while, and it was all I could do to not prod him. In the end, however, he started talking again, grimacing like the words left a bad taste in his mouth. "A year and a half ago. Maybe a bit longer. To the best of my knowledge, until then, she was regarded as aloof, but competent. This does not prove anything, however."
My mind raced at the thought. This could be exactly what I needed. "No, of course not. It's just… everybody seems to know that Mrs, Gladestrider does a horrible job, but when I ask about it, nobody can come up with anything solid." I told him about the scene I'd chanced upon and followed up with, "Something about that situation just didn't seem right. I mean, if Benjamin is trying to get her removed from her position, shouldn't we look into it?"
"Oh, it's 'we' now?" The half-orc frowned at his desk. "This isn't anything a lowly clerk like me should get involved with, and I won't. If the rumor spreads that I'm trying to dig into something that doesn't involve me, I could be dismissed..."
The silence stretched on and on. I ventured a hopeful, "...but?"
He sighed. "But if somebody were to look into it even further and gather some actual proof, I might forward it to the right people."
A wide smile appeared on my face. "Thank you. You won't regret it. Erm... any ideas where to start?"
This time, a low growl started deep in his throat. "You did not hear this from me - but a lot of the unhappiness among the leadership of the Academy with Mrs. Gladestrider revolves around her inept handling of time tables and paperwork. Her own research has been unfailingly stellar."
"Paperwork and time tables. Which would invariably have to go through Benjamin first." I nodded.
He grunted. "I didn't say that. Now run along."
I nodded at the half-orc and left, smiling in satisfaction at the updated quest.
Quest updated:
Change In Charge (Chronicler Quest)
You have been made aware that the current leadership of the bard wing of the Academy is less than optimal. Figure out the full story behind the current situation.
Updated: The main clerk of the Academy shares your suspicions regarding the leadership of the bard wing. Bring him solid proof that Benjamin is working to remove Mrs. Gladestrider as leader.
Reward:
unknown
Wonderful. I already suspected that slick bastard - and this might give me a new angle to catch him in the act. And I might just know how to handle it.
I got back to my usual haunts. Nothing much happened, except Lyle was able to confirm that High Hold did not contain a lot of information on the kobold expansion - just as Benjamin had claimed. According to his new Chronicler friend, a map such as ours would've been added to the Repository without any question. I fumed at the unfairness of it all. Why couldn't I just have insisted on delivering it myself? After a bit of prodding, Lyle also admitted to figuring out that the Chronicler wanted a bit more than just studying but refused to elaborate. I didn't begrudge him anything, however. He could do with a little extra worldliness.
My reputation kept increasing, slowly but surely and I enjoyed the stay.
Around noon, some fifteen days after arriving at High Hold, I was playing at the Amphitheater yet again, treating myself and the onlookers to a rendition of the Fallout theme. The weaving, melodious notes were well-received, and the audience was paying rapt attention to my music. I didn't lose myself in the music today, however, because my target had just appeared. Benjamin was standing at the edge of the outer benches, scanning the audience with a calculating look in his eyes.
When the break was over, he approached me, and I shot him a large, fake smile. "Wow. Has it really been ten days already?"
His perfect smile oozed with sincerity and friendship. "Yes. Time flies when you're having fun, right?" Bastard. "Could you come with me to my office?"
I nodded. "Anything for you, my friend. Give me a moment to deliver a message, then I'll be right there."
Perfect. So far, things were going according to plan. I sped off to the dormitories and located my co-conspirator, Cam. When I had asked the troublemaker of a ratling whether he wanted to mess with Benjamin, he didn’t even pause to think but accepted right away. I hurried to tell him that our scheme was about to unfold and then returned to Benjamin's office.
The charismatic bard looked up at me from his chair. "Ah, perfect. First, let me impress upon you my satisfaction with your performance. Results have been overwhelmingly positive, and I expect a warm reception with the leaders of the school."
Yeah. Not to mention another pat on your shoulder. I said nothing, but inwardly, I fumed.
He continued, oblivious. "If I could have your signature on the line below, our test will be concluded and you may return your own business, with a proper reward, of course."
"Mm-hm. Can I continue using my Affect Emotions on the audience?"
"For now, it is best that we give it a rest, at least until it's officially approved. Now, if there was nothing else?" His slick smile was clearly a polite dismissal which I studiously ignored.
"Well, my mother always taught me to read what I signed in full." I started poring over the text. Oh yeah, he was a right bastard this one. Plenty of mentions about the experiment 'approved by assistant director Benjamin Earnest,' but nothing about who came up with the idea. Nothing to put my finger on, but for the world, it would look like he came up with everything. "Proposing to put it out to the entire Academy on a trial basis, I see?"
Benjamin was hard at work on something else, but nodded absently. "Mm-hm.. It's the only logical move. Happiness is up, complaints are down, and most importantly, productivity is up. I'm sure the leaders will see it my way. Now-"
He was interrupted by Cam bursting in. The ratling was breathing hard. "Benjamin. You've got to come. Now." He paused to regain his breath, resting his hands on his knees.
"What? Why? I'm in the middle of something here." He glanced at me.
"It's Mrs. Gladestrider. She's in the main hallway, and she's fuming. Says you should've been there 20 minutes ago."
"What? But it's Tuesday. We never..." watching the blank look on Cam's face, his voice trailed off. "Lead the way, then. Arcangelo, I will be back soon, once I've cleared this misunderstanding."
Yes! I watched him walking out the door at a quick pace. Step one, complete - gain entrance to his office. That should give me some time to search the place for evidence. I closed the door and got to it.
His office was small and clean as a whistle. A single large desk in the middle dominated
the room, and two large, colorful plants framed a large file cabinet in the back. I quickly ruled out the stacks of reports that were placed in an orderly fashion on his desk in their respective 'in' and 'out' trays. Way too obvious. His file cabinet was a bust, too. There were precious few documents, and I worked my way through the ones he had, ruling them out as innocuous. That left one place to check out: the locked drawers below the desk. I rattled both drawers, just in case, but of course, they were properly locked. Fortunately, this time, I had come properly prepared.
My old rogue in World of Chains had been extremely entertaining to play with; a real inner-city troublemaker too. One of the most challenging parts of learning to play a rogue, apart from proper dagger work, had been lock picking. Once my trial period ended, I'd been at Apprentice Lockpicking, with a pretty clear idea of how the theory worked. I also knew how important it was to have the right equipment. This time around, I was left entirely without tools. At least physical tools. Placing my ear right next to one of the locks, I summoned my Humming Touch and got to work.
It wasn't easy work. There was no tactile feedback, and I could only operate on what minute sounds I could hear from within the lock. I thanked past me for putting so many points into Perception - without that, the task would've been nigh impossible. As it was, I'd just started sweating from nerves when the lock popped open. The contents - a half-filled flask and a wrapped meal, made me curse as I closed the drawer and got to work on the second one. I checked the time. Damnit. Five minutes had already passed. I had no idea how long Cam would be able to stall. A minute later, a soft 'click' announced my victory, and I tore the drawer open to look down upon a handful of papers, neatly stacked. I grabbed the pile of papers, spread them over the table and activated Photographic Memory. Then I replaced them properly in the drawer and got to work on locking the drawer again. An angry voice from afar informed me that I was running out of time and I closed my eyes, concentrating entirely on the lock. A tiny click informed me of success, and I jumped back up, grabbed the agreement, and moved to stand in front of the desk again.
