//------------------------------// // Burn It All Down // Story: Freeport Venture: Tears in the Rain // by Ponibius //------------------------------// This one hates sitting around doing nothing while there was work to be done. Things had taken an extremely bad turn. Blackwing had killed the Gustav-gryph right in the middle of the Goldtalon-gryph’s club. This one’s deal with the Gustav-gryph was now in ruins, and it didn’t know how his soldiers would react to their captain’s death. They could cause quite a bit of damage if they decided to take revenge for the Gustav-gryph’s death, especially if they blamed this one for the assassination. Blackwing was also on the loose, doing who knew what since this one doubted he would do something so big and dramatic without some kind of followup. And this one was stuck being chained to a chair in the Goldtalon-gryph’s office while a squad of his guards stared at it like it would miraculously jump out of the chair and make a grand escape at any moment. To be fair to them, this one had pulled off such feats in the past, but they usually required more preparation than this particular incident. It was also difficult to do anything while this one was being closely watched, but then that was the point of watching this one in the first place. The office itself was luxuriously decorated and clearly intended to impress any guests. The floors and walls were in white, black, and grey marble, expensive paintings and other artwork lined the walls, and his mahogany desk alone probably cost a year’s wage for one of his guards. The only mundane thing in his office was a small shelf behind the desk that featured a hooffull of law books. It wasn’t long after the guards had locked this one to the chair that the Goldtalon-gryph stepped into the room and waved to his guards. “Leave us.” The guard hesitated to move, and the Goldtalon’s eyes narrowed. “Now.” Seeing their employment on the line, the guards shuffled out of the office. Once they were outside and had closed the door, this one glowered at Goldtalon-gryph. “You know this one didn't kill the Gustav-gryph.” The Goldtalon-gryph sighed and waved the issue off. “Of course not, it's not your style to act that openly. You certainly wouldn’t publicly announce yourself in front of all Freeport like that. If you were going to kill Gustav you would have done it far more subtly.” “Indeed, if this one was going to murder one of your guests, it would have the decency to wait until they walk off your property before doing so. At least then it wouldn’t be your problem and wouldn’t risk you losing any face where your clientele is concerned.” At least we were both starting off on the same basis of facts. This would have been much more difficult if this one had to convince him of its innocence. “Yes, you are most considerate like that.” The Goldtalon-gryph huffed as he sat behind his desk. “In my line of work I’ve dealt with all sorts of cons, cheats, and charlatans, so I know a setup when I see it from a mile away, and you’ve been set up. Anyone with half a brain could see that.” “And yet...” This one held up its forelegs, and the chains around them rattled. “Appearances.” He waved vaguely at the chains. “It’ll hurt my reputation if I’m not seen as being proactive in defending my guests, and my guards were instructed to keep you safe in the event something were to happen. It’s why they piled onto you: they were protecting you with their bodies.” “And keeping this one from doing anything you might disapprove of,” this one added. “Though this one is still in chains.” The Goldtalon-gryph shrugged. “There is a substantial gap between what I personally believe and what I can publicly prove, especially when the Masks are on their way here to take you into custody. Quite quickly, if I might say so. I am but a humble businessman, but a more suspicious mind might ask how they knew they would need to take you into custody.” “This one would be.” This one crossed its legs over its chest. “The assassination wasn’t more than fifteen minutes ago, and as much as the Masks like to present themselves as being all-knowing and everywhere, simple budget and resource limitations mean they can’t be everywhere at once.” “That’s true, so it’s more than a bit curious they arrived just a couple minutes ago,” the Goldtalon-gryph said. “Though my staff is delaying them at the moment. We should have at least a few minutes to talk, if perhaps not more than that.” “Still not as much time as this one would like.” So that meant they knew what Blackwing was going to do. That confirmed something this one had long suspected: Blackwing and the Masks were cooperating with one another. If that was true, then that led to several other disturbing questions. This one’s eyes narrowed. “This one does have to ask how Blackwing came to know about the meeting. There were only four people who knew about the time and place of the meeting: this one, you, the Gustav-gryph, and the Alya-mare.” The Goldtalon-gryph rubbed his chin. “How very concerning. I think we can safely assume Gustav didn't arrange for his own murder.” This one shook its head. “No, that seems highly unlikely. For one, how did he expect to get out of here and past all your guards? Second, his reputation would be in ruins for pulling a stunt like that. It would put the Penny-mare in danger, and this one could go on and on. No, it doesn’t make sense unless we go off the assumption the Gustav-gryph was an idiot, which he wasn’t.” “Agreed.” The Goldtalon-gryph steepled his talons. “And I didn’t get the sense he was up to something. When he came here yesterday, he just seemed ... beat, and I could tell right away how much he wanted Merry back today. I think he was dealing honestly with you.” “This one thinks so too.” This one internally grimaced at the thought of its dead lieutenant. How quickly this one’s plans had unraveled. “And this one doubts you would be willing to embarrass yourself by both betraying the trust of your guests and allowing a murder to happen right in front of your customers. That would devastate your reputation.” He snorted derisively. “I most certainly would do no such thing. Still, I'm afraid this whole mess has put me in something of an awkward position. However Gustav died, I’m sure you can appreciate the predicament I’m in.” This one sighed and nodded. “Your problem is that everyone saw you arrest this one, justly or not. The Masks know you have this one, and will be demanding you give it to them. Worst still, it's only a matter of time until all your customers, influential people within Freeport society, are going to go screaming to the Council about how their nice evening out was ruined by a murder. No doubt complaining specifically about this one and potentially pushing the Council into turning against it. To summarize, a whole bunch of people want this one’s head, and unless it fixes this problem fast the Council is going to have this one drawn and quartered. And that’s assuming the Masks don’t grab this one and cause it an untimely death first.” “Exactly.” The Goldtalon-gryph’s talon slowly stroked his chin. “And I don’t particularly want to give you over to the Masks. You’ve always played straight with me, and I like you. I don’t want to hear that you died in a Mask cell with a heart-wrenching suicide letter detailing your guilt about your various crimes.” This one didn’t want to be captured by the Masks either. The best-case scenario was that they would hold this one until it was too late to hunt down Blackwing and prove its innocence. But this one suspected that Cold and the Masks would ‘disappear’ it or arrange some sort of convenient death for it. Thankfully, it sounded like the Goldtalon-gryph wanted to help this one, but it could already hear the ‘but’ to what he wanted to do. “The issue is that you can’t just let this one go without crossing the Masks and otherwise damaging your reputation with your customers.” “That is the problem, yes.” The Goldtalon-gryph leaned back in his chair as it squeaked in protest and he grinned. “Of course, you do have quite a reputation for being a wily operator. One could hardly blame a mere business owner for failing to contain such a mastermind.” This one flashed its teeth in a grin as it saw the plan forming. “This one has gotten out of tight spots over the years. If prisons, criminal masterminds, and other far more qualified persons couldn't keep this one contained, what chance did you have of keeping it prisoner? And this one would of course be willing to do what it took to make such an explanation look more plausible.” “Yes, no doubt you'd wound me quite viciously in your escape attempt.” The Goldtalon-gryph winced and murmured softly, “Or at least something that looks bad. But ideally something that won't scar. Perhaps a shallow face cut? Something that won't look too bad and should heal quickly once all is said and done, but bleeds quite a bit?” “Claim that this one hit you in the diaphragm,” this one said. “A swift blow to knock the wind out of you would explain how this one got the advantage over you, and it wouldn’t show as a wound on brief inspection. And this one would recommend a shallow cut on the brow. They bleed a lot, and it’s hard to beat the drama of a crimson mask. Get it treated right after you’re done with your act and your pretty face will be fine.” “Ah, yes, that should do nicely.” The Goldtalon-gryph stood and rummaged in his desk. Soon he produced a lockpick and a table knife he dropped in front of this one. Having plenty of experience with such things, this one picked up the lockpick, and soon the chains holding this one to the chain fell away. It dropped the lockpick next to the chair as though it had forgotten it on the floor during a frantic escape. This one stood up and picked up the chains and knife. “Now if you’ll just sit down, this one will make it look quite convincing that it assaulted you and got away.” “Perfect.” The Goldtalon-gryph sat back down and this one got to work. As this one started tying him to the chair he grinned as though laughing at a private joke. “Oh, and don't forget you owe me a rather large favor now.” This one took the knife and approached him. “Now Goldtalon-gryph, when has this one ever failed to repay a favor?” After taking pains to make it seem like that this one had assaulted the Goldtalon-gryph while escaping, this one grabbed a spare robe in the office and transformed into him. This one locked the office after itself to delay anyone discovering what had happened. Every minute was valuable at that point, and this one needed to get out of there quickly. The paranoid part of this one worried that this might all be some sort of plot to fool it—that the Goldtalon-gryph had spun a yarn to draw it into a web that would only make this one seem more guilty. Whatever the truth was, this one needed to get back on the street and fast. So once this one got an opportunity when no one was looking, this one transformed into a dull-looking zebra stallion and snatched a cook’s apron that was hanging on a hook. This one draped the apron on its back and made for the back exit. It was a simple matter to add a weariness to this one’s steps to make it seem like it had finished a long shift at work and all it wanted to do was return home to relax. This one exited the back of the club and kept walking like nothing was wrong. You never run away from a scene unless absolutely necessary. Running drew undue attention. No one seemed to pay this one any mind as it departed the Golden Ducat. It helped that the rain was now coming down hard, giving anyone little reason to stay on the streets. This one didn’t spot anyone following it. Either the Masks had bungled and hadn’t placed personnel to watch the back, or this one had fooled them with its disguise. This one was soaking wet as it slipped into the Alya-mare’s safehouse, and left small puddles in its wake as it made its way to where it had stored some spare arms and armor. The Alya-mare’s people must have told her that this one had arrived, because it had only pulled off the scale-mail from its stand when she made her appearance. “So how'd it go?” the Alya-mare asked. This one silently cursed; this had hoped to get what it needed out of the safehouse and then get out of here without drawing attention. “Terribly,” this one grunted as it started shunting on the armor. “Gustav is dead. Blackwing murdered him at the Golden Ducat.” “What?!” This one put on its shock gauntlet and invisibility bracelet. Thankfully this one had been able to get those back from the Goldtalon-gryph after his guards had seized them. “He shot him right in front of everyone, and he did it while looking like this one. Now there's going to be a whole lot of angry people going to the Council calling for this one's head. To make matters worse, the Masks are after this one too. Our best recourse is to find Blackwing.” This one started taking weapons off the rack. Soon this one had several daggers strapped to it, ready to do the dirty business that needed to be done that night. “And deal with him, permanently. He’s the killer, and if this one can present his corpse to the Council and bring the street war to an end at the same time that might mollify them enough not to bring down the hammer.” The Alya-mare frowned as she watched this one arm itself. “That's easier said than done. He’s bound to have gone underground by now.” “That’s why this one needs to get on it now. Maybe one of the people this one hired to find him discovered something.” This one moved around to make sure everything was secured comfortably and nothing on its person was catching on anything else. The Alya-mare let out a long sigh. “Hitting the streets all by yourself? What are you even going to do? Just wander around the streets of Freeport until Blackwing or the Masks put a knife in your back?” “No, find him and put a knife in his back.” Satisfied that all of this one’s equipment was in place, this one headed towards the door. The Alya-mare trotted to keep up with this one. “He's younger, faster, and stronger than you are.” “And this one's more experienced, and knows how to beat someone like Blackwing. He’s good, but he isn’t invincible.” The Alya-mare inserted herself between this one and the exit. “We need more of a plan than this. If you run off and get yourself pointlessly killed it'll screw both of us over!” This one took a deep breath. “Yes, this one is aware, but we are out of time. We have to act quickly and decisively, or we're screwed anyways. So unless you have an alternative, this one needs to get moving.” The Alya-mare grimaced as she looked around to see if there was anyone near us. There wasn’t and she slowly pulled a scroll out from a bag at her side. “There is something. A messenger delivered this after you left to go meet with Gustav.” This one took the scroll and noted that its seal had already been broken. The Alya-mare had already read its contents. Was she being honest about this being delivered by some messenger? This one unfurled the message to read its contents. Hey Puzzle, This one wants to meet with you at that place for one last showdown tonight. Just you and this one, one-on-one, best changeling wins. Well, we both know who that is, but it’s polite to at least pretend it will be a fair fight, right? Come alone, or this one will reveal your big secret to everyone. And you would just hate that, wouldn’t you? See you later, Blackwing For a moment, this one was puzzled about where Blackwing wanted to meet. Then the Alya-mare pulled a tome out of her bag. “The letter came with this. Not sure why though.” She showed this one the title of the book: The Black Scourge of Dream Valley. This one’s heart clenched as a dozen facts swirled together. That book shouldn’t be here. Argentium herself had copied that book for this one. It was one of a kind, and this one had left it in... Oh no. Blackwing had somehow gotten into The Vault. If he had seen what was all inside of there, and told the wrong people... “This one needs to go.” This one tried to step around the Alya-mare, but she moved to keep this one from getting past her. “Whoa! Where are you going?” The Alya-mare frowned as she watched this one. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” This one scowled at her. “Things have changed. There are things this one needs to do, immediately.” This one was in even more trouble than it had thought. It had kept the Vault secret for very good reasons. For one, knowledge of its existence would raise all sorts of uncomfortable questions, and many of them from the wrong sorts of people. If those wrong people suspected what this one was up to or drew one of several wrong conclusions, then this one might as well be a dead changeling. This one had to keep The Vault a secret whatever it took, but how to do so without revealing its existence? The Alya-mare’s brow furrowed as she refused to get out of this one’s way. “What’s going on? Where’s this meeting place, and why does it have you bothered so much? Does it have something to do with this secret he’s talking about? What could he know that’s bothering you so much?” For a moment this one was tempted to tell her the truth, but that idea died stillborn. This one could no longer trust her, especially with such a vital secret as The Vault. Maybe if this had happened before this one had left for Northmarch... But too much had happened since then, and there had been too many lies and deception since then. Worse still, our goals no longer aligned, and that was ultimately a fatal condition to us continuing to work together as we had in the past. Those facts stabbed this one right to the heart, but denying them would only make the situation worse. This one couldn’t tell her about the Vault without making things even worse, and that was the truth of it. Then came a burst of paranoia. Could this all be a trap on the Alya-mare’s part? The hoofwriting looked like Blackwing’s, but such things could be faked. But an examination of the Alya-mare made this one doubt that was the case. This one knew the Alya-mare very well, and knew her tells for when she was keeping secrets: a tightness to her face, a careful neutrality in her tone, and a measured way of speaking were all absent right at this moment. No, she was probably honest right at this moment, but that still left this one to determine what to do with her. This one decided to go with a lie. Maybe if this one could come up with something that sounded sufficiently terrible to explain its actions the Alya-mare would buy it. “This one thinks he might have found a hidden file cache it has. It has ... let us say compromising information on several individuals. The consequences for Blackwing getting his hooves on those files could make the current situation even worse.” The Alya-mare rubbed her chin. “Okay, that sounds bad, but no need to run around like a chicken with its head cut off. Obviously this is a trap, but we can turn this around on him. All we need to do is gather all those mercs and hired killers you’ve got, have them create a net for Blackwing, and then bag him. Hay, we can manage everything from right here. There’s no need to go running off into the rain when we can bring everyone here.” The problem with that perfectly reasonable plan was that it would raise a whole lot of questions from a whole lot of people. To make it worse, in a scenario like that Blackwing could easily scream to everyone and their mothers what this one had hidden in The Vault, and from there everything would fall apart. Damnit, Blackwing had this one pegged and he knew it. Either this one faced him alone, or this one might as well hang itself, and he had provided this one with plenty of rope with which to do so. The only reasons this one could think of for why Blackwing hadn’t already told the wrong people what was in the Vault was because he wanted its contents for himself, and he really wanted to kill this one personally. But this one needed to come up with some sort of lie to get past the Alya-mare without a scene. This one needed to buy time—precious, precious time, and her suspecting this one might be turning against her at this critical juncture would invite more trouble. This one flashed her a grin. “Don’t worry, this one has a contingency in place in case anyone went snooping around that cache. This one just needs to get the ball rolling, and we’ll turn this around against Blackwing.” This one moved to get around her, but to its surprise the Alya-mare snatched this one by the leg. “What’s your plan? We’re supposed to be partners working together now. You need to tell me what you’re doing instead of running around without anyone knowing what you’re up to.” Damnit, damnit, damnit! Why did she have to bring that up now?! “Please … just let this one deal with this problem. Once Blackwing is dealt with and everything is stabilized we can sit down and talk.” “No!” The Alya-mare stomped a hoof. “That isn’t good enough! You’re going to explain everything now! If we're supposed to be partners, you can't keep shutting me out and keeping me in the dark!” This one shook its head. It couldn’t tell her its secrets not now, or ever. This one hated doing it, but it forced its way past her and towards the exit. “Stay here and keep your head down. This one will be back once everything’s been taken care of.” The Alya-mare glared at this one as it passed her. “Don’t you brush me off! Get back here! I’m not done talking with you! You can’t treat me like this, you hear me?!” She continued shouting after this one as it stepped out into the storm raging in the night. This one needed to make some arrangements before it confronted Blackwing alone. This one’s enemies were closing in on it, and unless radical actions were taken then it was a dead changeling. After all of this one’s trials and tribulations, it wasn’t about to give up, even if it was going to have to do some terrible things to survive. The Gustav-gryph’s murder, Blackwing’s betrayal, and the Alya-mare’s untrustworthiness were forcing this one’s hooves. At the end of the day, this one was a practical changeling, and practicality demanded certain things be done. So this one entered the Free Companions HQ, and soon it was entering Platinum’s office. She frowned as she sat behind her desk, her talons interlocked as she watched this one step up to her. This one leapt into the conversation. “This one believes you know everything that happened at the Golden Ducat?” “I do.” Her frown deepened. “Or about as much as anyone does. I’m going to guess you didn’t actually engage in an epic duel with Goldtalon while simultaneously defeating half of his guards before making your escape?” “This one suspects the story of what happened has been exaggerated.” This one had to wonder how elaborate a story the Goldtalon-gryph had come up with. Granted, this one figured he had given the Masks and everyone else an elaborate and obvious lie to help cover what he had really done. This one didn’t particularly care what he said as long as it didn’t cause this one more trouble. Platinum shrugged. “Whatever the details, you’re in quite the pickle. The Masks are after you now, and I’m hearing word that the Council is going to be meeting about Gustav getting murdered, allegedly, by you. We both know that last part is a bunch of hogwash, but the facts are what they are. The Council might lose their patience with you and vote to censure you, and we both know that’s bad news.” “So this one is all too aware,” this one grunted. “But this one has a plan for turning this situation around. Though we’re going to need to move fast if we’re going to pull it off.” Platinum arched an eyebrow and leaned back in her seat. “Oh, is that so? Do tell.” This one stepped to where it could see outside. Sheets of rain swept down and thunder rumbled as a violent storm descended upon Freeport. “Gather whoever is available from your company. This one wants to enact one of the contingencies we talked about when hammering out our contract. This one wants to burn it down—this one wants to burn it all down.”