The #Broken_Dagger Forum

Constables had been sent out. Detective Constables had been sent out. Even Giuseppe had been sent out. Glenn simply did not have time to fetch everyone that he needed to talk to. He didn't have time to talk to everyone he needed to talk to. Things were starting to get out of hand. By now he had reason to believe the fire and Catch's mayhem were only two of the three important matters to occur at the ball, and all three may have been originally unrelated.

There were certain priorities and there were certain considerations in the quest for information. Here was one: Glenn Burnie was not about to have two Constables drag a young lady who has recently done him at least one favor there, one that he considered friendly, if not a friend, one who had been a bystander at the ball, certainly. He still wanted to hear what she had to say but it would be a messenger instead that would rush out to track her down. She could come to Burnie on her own... so long as it was soon.

The messenger had come late in the afternoon, nearing dusk, to the Dagger as he would have been told to by anyone who had a pie in the last month. Genny had no proper residence yet and either out of habit or to subsidize her keep, pies had been a regular menu item all summer.

Directed by barmaid the messenger was sent to the kitchen where a furious, pie-making frenzy was occurring. Flour covered the great common table and some of the floor, three batches of dough were in various states of preparedness and Genny, an apron wearing, fruit wielding, redheaded mess was in the middle of it all.

If he was afraid to interrupt it was with good reason, the message would be received but with pies still in progress and night in quick approach, Mr. Burnie would have to wait for morning. But for the enormous amount of respect she held for him it would be early.

---- Morning of the 31th Day, 7th Month in 211 ----

In the time between when she had received her summons and when she departed the Dagger the following morning, much had happened within its walls. With James back and a dozen pies baked there was no excuse for the day not to be wonderful. Buzzing cicadas announced the beginning of another summer day, still early the heat was tolerable and with the several books and folios she had in tow for Treadwell it was a godsend.

By carriage she had arrived, but not to the location of summons. It was rather to her employer, Mr. Treadwell that the redhead had thought it best to visit first. After all, she trusted the former map-maker but his nosiness when it came to the tax books seemed meddlesome at best.

Arrived, she stepped briefly out into the sun and directly into the unlocked, secondary offices of the taxman. The place was only somewhat familiar as she hadn't worked for him long. With her finished work she wandered down the hall and to the last, very wide door, before the vault. At first, though the door was open, she gave a knock, "Uh... Mr. Treadwell?"

As it was only an hour or so after dawn she did not expect the large, sleepy Treadwell and so when no answer came she went down and simply slid her work upon his desk. Something was amiss, the feeling of it would pierce her as she slowly turned from the desk and began to take everything in. How unlike Tready to have left this room open, it was a vault and as such, strangely devoid of coin. Not a single one, anywhere.

Worry began to pull at her lips, she'd find Tready's cane and a white handkerchief reeking of peppermint. At first she had lifted it, inspected it then held just close enough to her nose for a good whiff. The world began to wobble and spin, euphoria creeping over her until she, alone in the building, collapsed.

Waking several hours later, lightheaded and confused, Genny would rise and use her own blue handkerchief to wrap the perfumed one. Forgetting, in a panic, the other evidence which she might have taken. "Gods," was the only whisper she'd muffle to herself, stumbling, tumbling, and tripping up and out of the vault she would run with the cloth bundle clutched tightly. All the way to Burnie's, where she was now late but have twice the reason to see him.

The cloth hugged to her chest she braved the paper piled wastelands of the building that housed Glenn Burnie's office. To be perfectly fair she had never been there before. Wandering around for a few moments she would try frantically, to find a clerk, someone who didn't look too busy, to point her in the direction of a one, Mr. Burnie.

Recognition. Catch had received it; no surprise there. He stood out quite a bit and was rather notorious at this point. Descant had received it as well, not surprising either considering his professional and his role in the ball. That Genny received it as well WAS a bit of a surprise perhaps, and said something about the people who worked under Burnie. For her there were nods and a few smiles from male and female both, a welcoming greeting from the clerks and investigators there. She had earned such a thing, whether she knew it or not. Or maybe she was just on the list who had been sent summons. It was always hard to tell with Burnie and his ilk whether or not they really knew something or if they were simply pretending to.

Either way, it would be surprisingly easy for her to find someone who had a moment for her, and it was just as easy for her to be pointed back into his office. He'd look up at her upon her entrance, halting the writing he was doing and putting aside the quill. "Genny. You're late." His eyes stayed upon her for a long moment and he spoke quietly. "You're not in any trouble, Genny. I'd think the message ...." But he stopped and looked at her more intently, the pleasant smile on his face still. "Sit down and speak." The chair, so uncomfortable for Descant had been enhanced with a cushion for Genny's sake.

"Oh... t-thank you!" Her voice had trailed after those who had helped her find the office, whether or not they heard. The dress she wore was a plain but complimentary to her rather lean and tall figure, a deep green it set well against her eyes, frantic as they were. Her hair had at one point been fashionably pinned up; a modest and attractive labyrinth of a bun that was now as shaken as she appeared to be.

Hardly the mind to sit of her own accord she did as Glenn asked, finding the comfort of the chair of very little concern at this particular moment. "I... oh... Mr. Burnie... thank you... I.." Nearly out of breath she shook her head and lowered the hands that had, this entire time remained clutched tightly against her chest. Hiding the wad of cloth, protecting it as if were the physical embodiment of a secret. She stood enough to pass the fabric to the nearest clear spot on Glenn's desk, probably hoping to show him until she could compose herself. Delicately she unwrapped the blue fabric to reveal the white below as she attempted to speak. A slight hint of peppermint permeated the room, hopefully Glenn wouldn't get too close.

"Somnium Piperita," she almost blurted it out with a deep and worrisome breath. "It isn't... so much a toxin, a drug perhaps. Uh, Dream Flower?" Either she had trouble recalling its common name or she was asking Glenn if he had heard of it before. Leaving the cloth, ever obedient she returned to the chair with her fingers tracing her lips, considering carefully what she could say to explain what she had seen. Seemingly no concern for the actual reason she'd been summoned.

"It's a strange ingredient for a pie." Glenn Burnie looked at her cooly, calmly, even pleasantly, his smile not exactly kind but certainly present, certainly more reassuring than a scowl or a frown as the Governor might have given her at this point. Glenn Burnie was completely in control of whatever situation he may encounter. Still, his comment was anything but reassuring.

Genny had made complete sense to him. To put it simply, even cruelly, she was the rich man's Jinni Darden, down to the name. A girl that had run away from a relatively privileged home to make her way in the world, uncaring or oblivious of the dangers inherent in Myrken Wood. She was one of the best possible examples of such a creature, but still... there were limitations.

She had earned a certain amount of consideration but again... limitations. "In other words, why would you be aware of this, Genny? I know a great deal about such toxins, but then I have very good reason." Which she could ask about some other time, certainly. Glenn Burnie wasn't dismissive. Even lies, fabrication, the ramblings of the insane... all of them had some basis in truth, some truth behind them, even if it was only in the motivation of the telling.

"Pie," she whispered under her breath, she may have smiled or even laughed had circumstanced been different, instead worry lingered. Replaced only by defensiveness, had Mr. Burnie already been alerted to Treadwell's absence? That Glenn was so calm may have been reassuring but at this instant it seemed to be more infuriating. "My father was a doctor, Mr. Burnie... a concentration like this," she paused, "and his cane... I-I think he was drugged" Right, that should explain everything. But who in the world would have the skills to distill the raw weed here in Myrken? Only a handful of doctors, herbalists, an apothecaries could possibly have the equipment let alone the expertise, she among them. Though he would have known she worked as an herbalist for Treadwell, several months before Glenn himself had convinced her to become Tready's book keeper. A detail that perhaps did not look so favorable at this particular juncture, save that it would be rather absurd for her to report a crime she herself had committed... or genius.

It was true that somehow Miss Genevieve Tolleson had managed to keep a good amount of her own information from Glenn. She was hardly as talented or near the seamstress Jinni was, plus she hadn't run away from home... a good number of other things perhaps. Some of them, unfortunately, were beginning to catch up. But she missed home, she loved Thessilane.

"Wh.. do you know who has taken Mr. Treadwell? The coin?" Ever the one to be worried about a person rather than the month's worth of taxed collected, confusion spread across her face. Anger too.

If Burnie was surprised by any of this, he gave no indication, but then, what DID he give an indication of these days. He seemed as relaxed as ever. "Aloisius has quite often run afoul of various and sundry misadventures. Don't get me started on the fairy fiasco." There was a file somewhere on the thing, thick and with a bite taken out of the corner of it. That was average for Treadwell's dealings.

"I'll be honest, Genny. Once, years ago, the Councilor stood in the window of the Broken Dagger and stood down the Ashfiend. I witnessed the necromancer's painspell fly through the air and crush Treadwell under the weight of pure agony. It was one of the most surreal things I have ever seen here in Myrken. Treadwell seems to craft his own reality through force of will alone and it is, to say the least, unnerving when those things that plague us afflict him as well." Calomel would have offered her tea by now, would have taken the time to sip it here, in order to make a pause. Glenn, on the other hand, just continued on. "So I am first tempted to think it one of Treadwell's usual encounters. Fairies or some such. Some mystical answer. The simple fact of the matter is that moving him is almost impossible given his sheer mass. Unfortunately, between the evidence you bring forth and..." Here his voice caught, if only for a second. "the coin, something more mundane and troubling seems to be the case. But then moving BOTH Treadwell and the coin...."

Now finally a pause and Burnie would look to her, little miss Genny, who seemed to have surprising answers at surprising times for anything, who just nattered them out. His smile, of course, did not change. "How would you do it, Genny?"

His lack of pause was something she had become entirely used to and thus had come not to expect it. Not that their conversations were one sided, though they often were; Genny would have taken into account that Glenn seemed to have a fondness for getting to the point. Regardless, it had served her well enough that often times he had much to impart upon her. Now it was payback, he had made this her show in an attempt to explain a crime she could have easily committed.

At the mention of a necromancer the already worried pie-maker winced as if physical pain was inflicted by the very word. Uncomfortably, she shifted her left hand into holding the wrist of her right, leaving at least the scars of one exposed. "Me?" Again she whispered, almost reserved as she considered the idea of something she hadn't before. "As you say... I-I kn-... I am aware that Mr. Treadwell is," she paused trying to find a way to put it delicately, "rather graciously sized, and a very curious man." But how would she have done it? For a moment her green eyes calmed, shoulders relaxed and she looked away in thought.

Then a rather studious side of the pie-maker seemed to surface as she, without so much as a hiccup began to talk the problem out. And rather like Mr. Burnie she would speak in quick succession, breaks for pauses brief if not ignored. "Alone would be improbable, I doubt there is a single person alive who..." There was no need to explain how large Treadwell was, Glenn had seen him with his own eyes. Cheeks reddened a little and returned her eyes to him. "Observation. It is not difficult to recognize Mr. Treadwell upon sight and his occupation is known by all of Myrken... it would only take time to learn his schedule and where the monies would be held during counting." She considered for a moment, perhaps Tready hadn't been taken out of the vault. Perhaps his assaulter had managed to threaten him into walking out on his own accord. But then again, "The kerchief was downstairs, in the vault... suggesting he put up a fight or at the very least did not go willingly." She chewed her lip a moment, "A dozen, maybe less, could ...using various machines to disperse weight manage to get him out of the vault." Albeit, none of that would have been easy.

But where would they have obtained the sleeping serum? As if to suggest it would be easy, or accomplished so easily others she shrugged, "I could have boiled the flower using an apothecary's distillery, but it is deadly if not prepared correctly... " Realizing she'd just added herself to a kidnapping scenario she shook her head frantically, losing her composure and whatever slight eloquence she possessed. "I just ... I ... I assure you, this was made or taken from some where... where... where it was prepared perfectly... it is potent to the touch." Of this she could attest, the bruise on the back of her head a solid reminder of as much.

Burnie let her speak. Maybe there was the tiniest sparkle of amusement in his eyes but it was probably just the light. This was a serious matter after all and either very little or absolutely everything seemed to amuse him these days, depending upon his smile.

"Contradictions abound, Genny. You passed through them yourself. A number of men being needed to move all the weight but no sign of them. There are beings who could cover such tracks through magic or great skill, but they would hardly be interested in either Treadwell or our money." Drow came to mind immediately but they never, ever cared about the actual goings on of Myrken, just their own little petty grudges and rivalries.

"Perhaps he could be lured with food or tricked by a friend; know well that Treadwell is too thick by far to be bullied or threatened into compliance. Tricked, though? That's possible, but if that's the case, what need for the toxin? And then after it's use what to do with the body or the tracks? Or the people who watched him go?" He raised one possibility after the next, dismissing some, offering forth others. "It could be a compound situation. One magical force, like the faeries, dealing with the body, someone coming across the money and then taking it, but again, your perfectly prepared toxin makes that unlikely as well."

Burnie stared right through her now. "The simple truth of the matter is that in a case of mundane kidnapping, even one so important to our well-being, the Constables and the Governor," also the high Constable, even if he's distant, "will want me to take a background role. We all have our jurisdictions and specialties. It is little more than a year since I, myself, was abducted however, so I'll be as hands on with this as possible. And you'll come with me to the shop, of course. And a few Constables. You claim such expertise in this sort of toxin, jill of all trades as you claim to be, and know his day to day business as well as anyone. I know you're shaken up but for the Councilor's sake, I must insist."

The idea of luring a person with food seemed almost ridiculous, but it was absolutely a possibility with Treadwell. None-the-less a slight smile was offered for the humor of the mental image. "Of course," she agreed completely a curt nod to follow her immediate answer. Besides, with Tready gone and no money to be counted, added, and documented her work for the time didn't even exist, how else ought she spend her time. Beginning to rise as if now were the pertinent time, there was a some thought in catching Glenn's vacant stare. Absently she brushed back her hair, ".. perhaps, though I shan't like to assume things about the situation... there are ways more simple to cover one's tracks. " That they left his cane, the cloth and other sundries was not necessarily the evidence of a sloppy kidnapping, but perhaps a theft gone awry. Shaking her head she seemed to dismiss the notion as soon as she'd spoken in, the coppery, curly wisps of hair falling again into place.

She stood still then, her head cocked to the side. "I had no idea ... that... that you were kidnapped Mr. Burnie," whether or not he wanted it he had her earnest sympathy. Almost apologetic for not realizing it, she looked pained, but then she hadn't been in Myrken then. Much had changed in months she had been in Thessilane that she was only beginning to realize.

Burnie was up and on his feet and walking around the desk. There was much to do today, but the simple fact of the matter was that this took precedence. Whether it was the money or the Councilor was another matter. Maybe even it was even the combination of the two. It was hard to think anything could weigh more on someone's mind than Treadwell... weigh more on someone's anything. "Come along."

Paper, a small board, and something to write with were thrust towards her hands. "Write down the ingredients and preparations for the toxin in question, Genny. As we walk." Would he take the time here and now to test her more. It seemed absurd, but there it was. "Also, in the meantime, as we walk, I need you to tell me about the ball and what you saw there. I've spent the last year keeping everything contained here and if I have to deal with multiple things at once, so be it."

As for her comments upon his own kidnapping there was no response. There was too much to do to dwell upon such things. "Come. Along." He'd repeat whether or not she had risen and begun to follow yet. Genny was always showing competence above her station. It would be a question whether she could handle all this and more.

Standing and ready she would follow at his heels, taking the supplies, jotting furiously and looking up every once in a while to ensure she did not trip and fall. Multitasking came relatively easy. Except for walking, which as she checked to ensure the ground was still where it ought to be her words would find pause. That he didn't answer her inquiry about the kidnapping was noted and something she would look into sometime later, surely if he wouldn't tell her, someone else would. For now she'd leave it where it lay. There was a questioning look at the mention of keeping things contained, but then there were other thoughts about staying upright which were far more pertinent for the moment. "The Ball... oh," recognition washed over her as she realized of course Mr. Burnie would be investigating what had happened.

"I... I arrived late, Catch seemed to have just begun his fit when.. when Miss Winifred and I joined." Shrugging she seemed to seriously doubt she had anything of importance to offer. But then a more introspective expression to her as she considered the events and perhaps the perspective Glenn was trying to gain.

Her viewpoint seemed rather useless, but she had heard something interesting recently. "I-I spoke with the good Lady Lamai's Companion last night and he seems to believe Catch saw Dhrin," a man who by reputation alone warranted no proper address or title in her opinion.

"I did not see this, ...but I did see some flash, a tangible madness that ... it spilled out into a visible and destructive force." She seemed pained by this, but then again Glenn probably would have known she was with James and the dragon woman with her tattered, bloody wings at the infirmary immediately after the Ball ended.

"Miss Drache was hurt, but I very much doubt it was intentional..." After all, Genny knew Catch the person well, at least she thought so. And he had always been a good man, in her opinion. "He may be quite mad... but I have worry that the ridiculous cult may have hold over a poor man's soul. He screamed that he was not a Baie... and ran." Though she had the mind to still ask for a blessing upon the berries in her pie, out of respect for her mother to be sure, she would still sigh. "I'm not sure... I've very little conviction for fairy tales. But perhaps there is some darker force at play." Chewing her lip a little, she began to focus more intently upon ensuring her recipe was correct.

"A loss of control is one thing." Glenn noted as they walked. He pressed his cane down upon the ground almost violently, propelling him forward and keeping himself a step in front of the piemaker, barely looking at her as they walked. "We've been keeping that eventuality in mind. Were I there, I would have been able to deal with it. What is much more of a problem would be if Catch were to fall into the wrong hands, a group or person that could properly influence him. Dhrin preys upon madness and confusion. You'd do well to steer clear of him. He'd devour you alive. The baie is real, but Catch is not one. In Myrken, the fairy tales have a basis in truth. You should know that well enough by now, Genny."

There would be a little glance back. They were now moving out of the building. He hadn't told anyone where he was going. If the people there couldn't figure it out from the clues presented tot hem, they hardly deserved to be on the payroll. He wanted to see if she was keeping pace, if she was writing. "Dhrin and Renne are recently returned to Myrken, seen only sparingly. I'm confident that Catch is not in their clutches. Big, public events such as the ball lure such men out of their hiding places. That Catch was already unstable before encountering Dhrin is more important."

The cane made a steady noise against the path as they continued on towards Treadwell's shop. "Visible and destructive force. Do better Genny. Tell me what the chaos looked like. Tell me what it felt like. It may be madness but we are sentient beings, humans, sane and orderly creatures. We can make sense of it."

He was infuriating at times, the moment she began to feel helpful or bright there was Glenn to knock her down a peg. Worse yet, she was thankful for it, even appreciated his guidance. She would keep pace, because she had to, because there was no other option in her mind. That he seemed to believe her to be weak willed, mad, or confused was an insult but not one she was about to contend with him. As for fairy tales having a basis in truth, she did know, first hand. The scars on her wrists a grim reminder and also the reason she still carried and concealed at her side the dagger Glenn had given her years ago.


There was a slight grin at the mention of being sane and orderly creatures, as if she wanted to chime in and disagree. But again, some comments would just start arguments and today, now, was not the time.

"I have heard Dhrin is cunning and Catch -is- vulnerable." Perhaps a closer eye should be kept on him, if not for his own sake than certainly the general populace.

She had written a good amount, a solid page worth and still going. But now she was focused on reciting the events with detail. "The... the first sight I had was of Catch with his hands upon Thadius' throat. I saw Dhrin react and then people began to clear, I was pushed, I fell, it hurt." Oh she would tell him how it felt all right, even all the fluff of the pretty white dress hadn't protected her bum from the harsh floor. Slight sarcasm aside she would begin trying in earnest, "people were moving, then panicking. H-He had a light coming out of his mouth when next I saw him, ...no, illuminated arms... branches... like tentacles of an octopus reaching out, no... they were striking with purpose, defensively perhaps? That was when Lamai was attacked."

She seemed quite grim. "T-they went into her... her eyes... her ears... her mouth..." It was making her feel sick, her face taking a ghostly pallor. Perhaps fear and sickness was appropriate for what she'd felt then too. Regaining her composure she began again, trying to recall everything that happened, where everyone was in the room, she'd seen them, she'd passed by them. Mentally placing them about and recalling who had been present, she kept pace.

"Zilliah and Bromn followed us in... " Who else had been there, "The good lady, James, the Ambassador, Miss Dulcie and her companion.." She couldn't remember his name, they'd only met once and she'd been somewhat intoxicated. "G...Gar-something, I had heard his name when he helped me up... I hadn't been standing long when... oh the bard, Descant, he found me and Miss Winifred too... Ms. Drache came, I didn't see much around her then, she was protecting someone... she was hurt. But the good lady fell and James, and there was blood - others had been hurt, but I... I don't recall, " somewhat disappointed in herself for not remembering. After all she had run to James and everything was a blur of tears, smoke and fire. "Perhaps its not important... but I could have sworn I saw Mr. Roschen too... sitting on a table?" She shrugged, surely the tailor wouldn't have missed the Ball, that much was certain.

They stopped. He had been forcing multitasking, bullying her forth into showing exactly what she could manage. Everything was a test with her, but surely that was better than just ignoring her, discarding her, no? Now, though, he stopped, and hopefully she was paying attention enough to stop as well. If not she'd crash right into him.

"Genny, do you know that of everyone I and the Constables spoke with, you're the only one who was even vaguely able to describe that." She was quite shaken by all of this, or at least that's how he read it and why shouldn't she be? It was terrifying, the very stuff of nightmares. "I was able to put some of it together on my own but.." A shake of his head, the usual smile still upon his face. "No matter. that was tremendously helpful. Thank you. I think I'm just about ready to speak with Catch, now."

They started to move once more, but after a few seconds, Burnie would stop again and turn back to her. "Ah, one other thing, Genny. Suede Roschen is always important. Here is why. The very moment you think he is NOT important, he will take such offense over that slight and find a way to make himself though. The trick is not making him think he is so important that he feels like he has to live up to it." It was a mad balance, but then what wasn't here in Myrken?

With that said, Burnie continued on. "I might want a sketch of what you saw with Catch at some point, but for now, we best focus on Aloisius, no?" At the pace they were going, the shop was no longer very far away. "Tell me, Genny," the young man would say to the slightly younger woman, almost idly. "How aware are you of the recent incidents of burglary here in town?"