The #Broken_Dagger Forum

One of the notes sent out would go unanswered, just as many others of many sorts sent to Aloisius Treadwell this past month. Raylan, his wife, would have taken it upon herself to try to handle what she could of the business affairs--particularly any payments that might have needed making or taking up from individuals--but her husband has long since been absent, supposedly off in Westenford in Amasynia. Where *is* the Councilor, precisely?

Of course, this is an excellent idea, this ridding Myrken of evils and such. If only Tready were here to agree to it!

The response from Lieutenant Joshua Kilborn's office would be through the hands of Kilborn's aide and adjunct, Key Lannew. A short missive stating quite simply that Kilborn has travelled to Westenford to pursue an investigation into the disappearance of the Councillor of Administrative Sanctions.

Addressed to each councilor in turn, Thomas gave more good news:

I have met with this Darius McClellan and spoke with him for some time; though I sense that saving Myrken is somewhat less of a priority to him as a guard escort to treasure hunt the island, it appears his story is nonetheless true. He found a book in our Library of Mudd that verifies his story - and I've also taken it to the librarian to verify its authenticity.

It's as real a piece of history as anything else.

As well as documenting ancient history, the book also tells of how and where this demonstone can be destroyed. There's more to the story, of course, but it's lengthy - the book will tell it better than I can, at any rate.

We should meet on this as soon as possible; the faster we move, the faster I believe we can make the peace we have last, preferribly before the next disaster or the next plague strikes.

- Captain Thomas Daniels,
Order of Straka

The room was dark with curtains pulled tightly to dissuade the glow of sunlight. Within, dust rode strong on the various surfaces. Most particularly the oaken table that sat in the middle of the office. Piles of papers, most of them directives or suggestions, left unfinished and unsigned. An ink well left to dry in the intervening months of neglect. An old cloak lay draped over the chair, as if waiting for it's owner to return and put it back on. It was stiff, having been damp all those days ago and left to dry.

There was a slot in the door, which had been locked all this time, for parcels and post to be shoved through. And there were a number of things waiting there for the Councilor to return and peruse through them. And it was about time for that to happen, too. Almost a week since the first missive was sent to this office, and the door would sweep open slowly. Motes of dust were caught by the glow of sunlight in the hallway. They swirled in the wash of air caused by the opening door. Heavy boots thudded into the dusty floor, then the light was cut off by the shutting of the door.

More dust to be kicked up by the motion through the room. A bending to pluck up the more recent bits of mail. Gloved fingers would peruse each, glancing at the headers before tossing a few to the side. A letter from home, from Soria. That one was pocketed quickly. One from Marshall Dross. Three from his mother. Ah. And one from Councilor Giscard. The others were tossed upon the table, which caused him to cough annoyedly. Then it was opened, lips compressing at the words written within.

Well. It seemed it was a good time to return, wasn't it. And time to let the township and provence know it.

Darius McClellan knocked on the door to Captain Thomas Daniels' office, cracking open the door a bit to peek in after hearing the familiar voice calling for him to do so. Spotting the one-armed captain watching him, Darius entered the office proper and got straight to the point.

"Captain, I'm curious as to whether you're actually trying to set things in motion. I haven't heard anything from you in a while."

The captain watched him intently, taking a pause to decide on his words: "Mr. McClellan, you are correct in your curiosity. I've put the matter on hold for the time being; Myrken Wood is currently in a stranger political situation than a dangerous one. So. Rest assured, I will contact you when we've decided to act on your information."

And with that, Darius was dismissed; he left without apparent disappointment or annoyance, though the captain suspected those were present anyhow. Thomas turned back to his never-ending paperwork. Suede's skeptism had done some good, perhaps; the captain was made aware of how dangerous it was to have so many officials vacant. Perhaps more so than this 'demonstone' Darius had told them of.