The #Broken_Dagger Forum

It was a busy night in Myrkentown. Young, generally illiterate men (of which there were so many to be found and easily hired) ran through the streets on a singular errand. Posters had been made in preparation for a certain party to be held at the Calomel Farm. Oh, there was some guesswork involved, though certain signals, rings upon fingers and the sort, made it a safe guess the reason for the celebration. Truly, even if the message upon the poster was false in one area, there were certain truths that could not be denied.

So by morning, over a hundred copies of the poster would be found all around Myrken. The news of them and their message spread very quickly indeed. It may have been one of Myrkentown's worst kept secrets, but it was generally kept quiet by all parties involved. Now there was such reason to speak about it openly.

Before one such poster, a perhaps-familiar figure; a young man, smartly-dressed in dark shades, grey eyes narrowed slightly as he scans the handbill, silver brows lowering into a frown as he reaches the end of the hastily-pasted message. A few moments pass as he considers this development, lips pressed together in a thin, flat line of disapproval.

A short time later that particular poster has been pulled down, carefully-folded and slipped into a coat pocket as the Governor makes his way to his offices, there to attend to his duties, and to catch up on whatever matters have been kept waiting until his return.

Later in the day, however, a young lad makes the rounds of Myrken's printers to request proof-sheets and examples of their printwork, ostensibly for a potential client who is interested in having some handbills made up. These proofs, however, quietly find their way back to the Constabulary's offices, where certain comparisons are made, and certain similarities are sought.

Meanwhile, the Governor attends to more pressing - not to mention more official - business.

One of the posters eventually made its way to St Thecla's and ended up
on the desk of Abbot Fidelius, who immediately sent for a certain still
stubbornly silent novice. A succinct question was answered by a
curt shake of the head, and Fidelius was satisfied that none of his
hotheads had been responsible for this poke at the Governor.

Coupled with the recent events concerning Karolinger, it would seem
the young Governor was now facing a conflict of a different nature.

Fidelius found himself wondering how Calomel would react to this one.

These were men who knew how to do their jobs, who could systematically go through one printing house after the next after the next. Unfortunately, they would be met with one failure after the next. It came close once or twice, but nothing was decisive.

It was not a case of the posters being from multiple houses either. No there was no sign that whoever printed these posters had tried to hide their origin. It seemed like a plain, straightforward job.

Within a few days all of the major and most of the minor printers had been examined to no avail. Of course, this, in itself, told them something about the posters. They had not been processed by any reputable printer in MyrkenTown.

How strange that a local organization that seemed to be focused on Myrken's morality was using posters printed somewhere far away from home.