To catch a Fox..
Tue Sep 04, 2007 2:31 pm
The recent incident within the belly of a certain holding cell rang across the streets within hours. The Constabulary worked feverishly to calm the nerves and concerns of the town-goers. And, with a small persuasive word from one Alessandra Demarest, the following notices went up within an evening in all taverns, streets, and any other surface that could harbor a piece of parchment.
All inquiries, and reward claims, should be directed to the Constabulary...
All inquiries, and reward claims, should be directed to the Constabulary...
Wed Sep 05, 2007 1:35 pm
"It's a very simple question, really." Grey gaze passes from one Constable to another as slender hands fold together atop the fresh-printed poster that has found its way onto the High Constable's desk. There is an awkward silence in his office, broken only by a quiet cough from one of the grey-uniformed men in front of the desk, and a shifting of boots on the floorboards.
"Who approved this poster? Because I can assure you, gentlemen, it wasn't me. Which I find most intriguing, considering the generous bounty being offered for this," Another glance to the offending flyer, accompanied by a slight frown. "Volpone. Very generous indeed. It's interesting that someone sees fit to make so free the Constabulary's funds without first consulting either myself or the Bursar. It's a quite lamentable breach of procedure, in fact." He consults the Constabulary report spread out beside the poster, leaving his officers to stew in silence for a time.
"From what I am aware, far from being a, uh, conspirator against Myrken Wood and the Trae Kelsan crown, and a known associate of the Ashfiend, or even a murderer, Reynard Volpone was arrested a couple of nights ago for common assault. Against Councillor Treadwell, admittedly, which is not something we want to encourage; but five hundred gold sovereigns?" Another unimpressed glare for the gathered Constables before he checks a report on his desk.
"So. Arrested by Constable Sandars, apparently. Then last night he somehow managed to free himself from a locked cell, overpower two of the Constables on duty - badly injuring one of them - and fled. And he is now at large. So, that's one count of common assault, one count of assault against an officer of the Peace. According to older records there is some mention of attempted murder and kidnap which may also be linked to this individual. Attempted, mind." He flicks through the report for a time, then looks back to the flyer and then to his subordinates.
"Meanwhile these thoroughly unsanctioned posters have been slathered all over Myrkentown, accusing him of a whole list of totally spurious crimes and no one knows why." He looks at the men standing before him, senior members of the Constabulary looking somewhat like chastened schoolboys.
"Find out why. Check with the men on duty at the time of the escape to see if anything out of the ordinary occurred, check with the printer's shop to see who ordered the posters printed, check with the duty sergeant to see who ordered the damn things put up all over the place. And get a crew of men assigned to taking the damnable things down, as well. You all know your duties, and presumably know how to perform them. Dismissed."
There's a flurry of salutes, and the senior officers of the Myrkentown Constabulary hurry out to obey their orders.
It takes a while, but eventually reports come in from various corners of the Constabulary.
From the cell warden, mention of a lady visitor for Volpone on the night of the escape; a visitor that the Constable on duty had originally refused, and then... permitted. An egregious breach of procedure which he remains utterly unable to justify or explain, much to his confusion. Likewise from the two who'd been involved in restraining the "escaping" prisoner, when asked why they'd been wielding blades rather than the customary truncheons. When the detective asking the questions points out that one of the guard's own keys had been found in the lock of the open door after the fight, the unfortunate man grows quite bewildered and distressed.
From the Constable who'd placed the order at the printer's shop, word of a dark-haired young slip of a thing who'd asked him to... uh. Well, she'd asked really nicely. No, she wasn't a Constable, but she was very persuasive. Seemed a reasonable enough thing to do at the time. And again from the Constable who'd ordered the posters distributed.
By lunchtime the following day, the vast majority of the fraudulent posters have been torn down. Volpone still remains at large, as does this mysterious dark-haired woman. What information has been gathered thus far, however, does not please the High Constable one bit.
Not at all.
"Who approved this poster? Because I can assure you, gentlemen, it wasn't me. Which I find most intriguing, considering the generous bounty being offered for this," Another glance to the offending flyer, accompanied by a slight frown. "Volpone. Very generous indeed. It's interesting that someone sees fit to make so free the Constabulary's funds without first consulting either myself or the Bursar. It's a quite lamentable breach of procedure, in fact." He consults the Constabulary report spread out beside the poster, leaving his officers to stew in silence for a time.
"From what I am aware, far from being a, uh, conspirator against Myrken Wood and the Trae Kelsan crown, and a known associate of the Ashfiend, or even a murderer, Reynard Volpone was arrested a couple of nights ago for common assault. Against Councillor Treadwell, admittedly, which is not something we want to encourage; but five hundred gold sovereigns?" Another unimpressed glare for the gathered Constables before he checks a report on his desk.
"So. Arrested by Constable Sandars, apparently. Then last night he somehow managed to free himself from a locked cell, overpower two of the Constables on duty - badly injuring one of them - and fled. And he is now at large. So, that's one count of common assault, one count of assault against an officer of the Peace. According to older records there is some mention of attempted murder and kidnap which may also be linked to this individual. Attempted, mind." He flicks through the report for a time, then looks back to the flyer and then to his subordinates.
"Meanwhile these thoroughly unsanctioned posters have been slathered all over Myrkentown, accusing him of a whole list of totally spurious crimes and no one knows why." He looks at the men standing before him, senior members of the Constabulary looking somewhat like chastened schoolboys.
"Find out why. Check with the men on duty at the time of the escape to see if anything out of the ordinary occurred, check with the printer's shop to see who ordered the posters printed, check with the duty sergeant to see who ordered the damn things put up all over the place. And get a crew of men assigned to taking the damnable things down, as well. You all know your duties, and presumably know how to perform them. Dismissed."
There's a flurry of salutes, and the senior officers of the Myrkentown Constabulary hurry out to obey their orders.
--~--
It takes a while, but eventually reports come in from various corners of the Constabulary.
From the cell warden, mention of a lady visitor for Volpone on the night of the escape; a visitor that the Constable on duty had originally refused, and then... permitted. An egregious breach of procedure which he remains utterly unable to justify or explain, much to his confusion. Likewise from the two who'd been involved in restraining the "escaping" prisoner, when asked why they'd been wielding blades rather than the customary truncheons. When the detective asking the questions points out that one of the guard's own keys had been found in the lock of the open door after the fight, the unfortunate man grows quite bewildered and distressed.
From the Constable who'd placed the order at the printer's shop, word of a dark-haired young slip of a thing who'd asked him to... uh. Well, she'd asked really nicely. No, she wasn't a Constable, but she was very persuasive. Seemed a reasonable enough thing to do at the time. And again from the Constable who'd ordered the posters distributed.
By lunchtime the following day, the vast majority of the fraudulent posters have been torn down. Volpone still remains at large, as does this mysterious dark-haired woman. What information has been gathered thus far, however, does not please the High Constable one bit.
Not at all.
Wed Sep 05, 2007 1:49 pm
Around dusk, a young lad comes running to the guardhouse, a letter in hand. He says a scrawny old man in rags, hunched over with a bandage about his eyes and a wooden crutch under an arm, had him bring it. . . .
It should ultimately be taken to Cinnabar. His name is on the thing, besides.
The contents?
= = = = =
Five hundred shillings? A splendid sum, sirs! Fine and dandy! 'tis a shame you're cancelling that, mind you, but I suppose I can't bankrupt the Council!
As for the Council:
I'd put good money on Aloisius Horatio Treadwell, aged 62 years, birthdate of 1 June 145, Chief Magistrate of Westenford, Councilor of Administrative Sanctions of Myrken Wood, resident of room two at the Hospital, being in very, very dreadful condition, and not by MY hand.
I'm sure you've heard of some brown-haired hussy with a silver tongue by now.
No, she's not connected to me.
No, I didn't pay her to set me loose.
Yes, she somehow sweet-talked your guards into trying to come in to kill me. My condolences. I do hope the one I had to gut lives; he meant to take my bloody head off with that blade.
If you and your men have any sense about you, Constable, take a few words to heart from the one man who has the most reason to see Treadwell dead. . . .
I want to see him alive and thinking clearly. A Fox enjoys a hunt, a chase. A Fox is not suited for carrion.
Lock down that Hospital, or move the old butterball to safer quarters. I'll make no attempts on him, but I dare say that wench is more of a conniving scoundrel than I.
In truth and sincerity,
Reynard Gaius Volpone
5 September 207
It should ultimately be taken to Cinnabar. His name is on the thing, besides.
The contents?
= = = = =
Five hundred shillings? A splendid sum, sirs! Fine and dandy! 'tis a shame you're cancelling that, mind you, but I suppose I can't bankrupt the Council!
As for the Council:
I'd put good money on Aloisius Horatio Treadwell, aged 62 years, birthdate of 1 June 145, Chief Magistrate of Westenford, Councilor of Administrative Sanctions of Myrken Wood, resident of room two at the Hospital, being in very, very dreadful condition, and not by MY hand.
I'm sure you've heard of some brown-haired hussy with a silver tongue by now.
No, she's not connected to me.
No, I didn't pay her to set me loose.
Yes, she somehow sweet-talked your guards into trying to come in to kill me. My condolences. I do hope the one I had to gut lives; he meant to take my bloody head off with that blade.
If you and your men have any sense about you, Constable, take a few words to heart from the one man who has the most reason to see Treadwell dead. . . .
I want to see him alive and thinking clearly. A Fox enjoys a hunt, a chase. A Fox is not suited for carrion.
Lock down that Hospital, or move the old butterball to safer quarters. I'll make no attempts on him, but I dare say that wench is more of a conniving scoundrel than I.
In truth and sincerity,
Reynard Gaius Volpone
5 September 207
Wed Sep 05, 2007 2:29 pm
Truth and sincerity. The words have the High Constable raising a sceptical brow as he sets the letter aside and rubs his eyes wearily. How to deal with this? How to deal with someone who can sway a man with mere words?
"Have guards posted at the Rememdium, on guard against an attempt upon Councillor Treadwell's person. Standard equipment, no swords. And pass on the warning to the Rememdium's staff, too." He sighs. If it's not one damnable thing it's another. "Any word on those other procurements?"
The Constable standing before Calomel's desk nods, though uncertaily. "The artisan's able to supply what we want, sir, but it'll take a while to fulfil the whole order. One warding charm per man? Not quick. Even at a dozen a day, it'll be at least three weeks to make the lot." He shakes his head slightly. "Not cheap, either."
"I'd much rather spend the coin on these than on that bogus reward the culprit offered on our behalf. Ask the artisan if she can provide us with the warded pieces as and when each batch is complete - I'd rather have at least some of the men protected as soon as possible, rather than having to wait longer so everyone can get theirs at the same time." He nods firmly at that, still deeply unimpressed by such an effortless breach of the Constabulary's security, such casual manipulation of his men's minds.
"Have the sergeant-at-arms crate up the helms in batches. The first completed batch she sends back to be divided between those on duty at the Rememdium, and those on duty in the holding cells. I don't want a repeat performance."
"No, sir."
"Very good. Mind how you go."
"Have guards posted at the Rememdium, on guard against an attempt upon Councillor Treadwell's person. Standard equipment, no swords. And pass on the warning to the Rememdium's staff, too." He sighs. If it's not one damnable thing it's another. "Any word on those other procurements?"
The Constable standing before Calomel's desk nods, though uncertaily. "The artisan's able to supply what we want, sir, but it'll take a while to fulfil the whole order. One warding charm per man? Not quick. Even at a dozen a day, it'll be at least three weeks to make the lot." He shakes his head slightly. "Not cheap, either."
"I'd much rather spend the coin on these than on that bogus reward the culprit offered on our behalf. Ask the artisan if she can provide us with the warded pieces as and when each batch is complete - I'd rather have at least some of the men protected as soon as possible, rather than having to wait longer so everyone can get theirs at the same time." He nods firmly at that, still deeply unimpressed by such an effortless breach of the Constabulary's security, such casual manipulation of his men's minds.
"Have the sergeant-at-arms crate up the helms in batches. The first completed batch she sends back to be divided between those on duty at the Rememdium, and those on duty in the holding cells. I don't want a repeat performance."
"No, sir."
"Very good. Mind how you go."
Powered by phpBB © phpBB Group.