Vainglory 3.16 - Ransack

Enjoy the chapter :) See you on Wednesday with 3.17.

-Plum

16 – Ransack

It wasn’t very difficult to figure out what hotel the dead sorcerer's key belonged to. Ward left his quarters at the Assembly Hall and went to the largest hotel in the nearby square and the manager smiled, nodded, and said, “That key belongs to the Grand Ordo—just across the square. I would be happy to have it delivered for you.”

“No, no.” Ward smiled and pocketed the key. “I’m interested in speaking to the person who lost it; I’d like to invite her to dinner.” He winked and the man chuckled.

“Of course, of course. In that case, I’m pleased to have helped you make the connection.”

Ward tipped his hat, slid a ten-glory silver coin onto the counter and then strode out of the lobby, his boots clicking sharply on the marble floor. “Marble everywhere,” he muttered. “Don’t they have hardwoods in those big forests?” It wasn’t that he didn’t like marble; it was just that he was getting tired of all the hard, glossy, white surfaces everywhere. He figured there must be a massive quarry nearby that made the material cost-effective. Maybe it didn’t matter, though, in a city with readily available magic. Factors like cost might be less of a consideration.

Out in the afternoon sunlight, he looked left and right, scanning the crowds, wondering if another duelist was watching him, waiting for the moment to strike. Would Veylan have hired another already? Would he have hired more than one to begin with? Ward’s gut told him no; the man would want to minimize the number of people who knew his plans. Having a man killed directly after your Assembly committee acquitted him wasn’t a good look. No, he’d need a day or two to arrange another attempt.

Somewhat heartened by his internal dialogue, Ward started across the square, and his wolfish appetite began to assert itself. Food vendors were scattered around the wide-open space and the scents of their wares were enough to bring saliva into his mouth. When he passed a merchant selling sausages slathered in some kind of creamy mustard sauce and wrapped in doughy flatbread, he paused to buy two of them.

With his food in hand, he continued on his way, eating as he observed the crowds. There were all manner of people in Ordo Caelus. Humans were definitely the majority, but he saw other people like the judge who’d interviewed him at the Proving Gate, along with other, less alien folk. A pair of hirsute men stood in line near a rug merchant and Ward gave them a double-take, wondering if there was something lycan about them. His nose told him no; they had a definite musk that was different from what you’d smell on a human, but it didn’t remind him of the scent he'd picked up from Coral, the Assembly member who’d approached him earlier.

His attention was snatched away from the hairy men when he saw a woman with delicate, pointy, elfish ears. At first, he only saw her from the side, but when she turned, twirling her silken parasol, Ward had to fight to keep from staring. She had big, almond-shaped eyes with purple irises that shone brightly, even in the sunlight. She was clearly a sorceress, and the depth of her mana was beyond anything he’d yet seen. Even Coral’s aid, Gwen, paled in comparison.

Ward averted his gaze, kept walking, and let his other senses do some work. If she were an elf, he wanted to memorize the nuances of her scent, figuring it might come in handy if he was going to be spending much time in the Vainglory System—something that seemed inevitable. He inhaled slowly but deeply, letting his unnatural lycan senses paint a picture of the scented currents of air, plucking out and focusing on the ones that came from the elfish woman.

He sifted through floral perfumes, and the lingering odor of something sweet with a strawberry undertone, and then he got to her underlying body odor, the essence of her. He had to fight down a smile at his success. It was a feeling of accomplishment, a lot like solving a puzzle, and he found he enjoyed scents far more than before he’d awakened his bloodline. They were vivid and told a story to his nose much like a vista or a beautiful painting might do to his eyes.

He marked the woman’s scent, noting the subtle differences between her and a human, and tried to memorize those markers. He might never have thought to do it before Coral challenged him to smell the lycan in him. Now that Ward knew the strange musk of a lycan, though, he was beginning to realize his sense of smell was a far more valuable tool than he’d given it credit for. There was a great deal more to smell among all these people than the sharp tang of fear.

He continued to eat his impromptu meal as he walked, and by the time he’d reached the tooled, shiny brass doors to the hotel, he was wiping his mouth on the rough paper towel that had been wrapped around the food. A doorman ushered him in with a short bow, saying, “Welcome to the Grand Ordo, good sir.”

Ward tipped his hat and stepped into yet another marble-bedecked grand foyer with a vaulted, echoing ceiling. The furnishings were rich, perhaps a bit more so than the inn he’d just exited, but to his eye, it was of fairly equivalent style, value, and taste. The manager at the counter was busy with a customer, so Ward lingered in the lobby, looking around at the oil paintings, pleased that at least they seemed unique.

Above the desk, surrounded by a gilded frame, an enormous painting of a stormy sea tossing a sailboat atop foam-flecked waves caught his eye. He studied the intricate details of the ship, down to the tiny figures of panicked crew members as they wrestled with ropes and sails. It was truly an impressive piece, especially considering its size—at least ten by twenty feet. Ward was racking his memory, trying to remember if he’d ever seen a painting so large, when the manager cleared his throat and asked, “May I help you, sir?”

Ward, startled out of his musings, smiled and nodded, approaching the counter. He’d been tempted just to slip by the manager and make his way up to the dead sorcerer’s room, but there was a man in hotel livery with a spear standing near the stairs and his eyes had tracked Ward from the second he entered the lobby. Judging by the size of the hotel, it didn’t have more than twenty rooms, especially if they were all suites, and Ward would have bet money that the staff prided themselves on knowing their clients.

He wasn’t sure what would happen if he used Thrund’s key and was caught searching his room. Could he claim that the man had fallen to him in a fair duel and so his belongings were, by rights, his, or did that only apply to the belongings on a combatant’s corpse? Even if he could intimidate the hotel staff, what would happen if they called the city watch? Finally, even supposing he talked his way past the city watch, word would get back to Veylan, and Ward didn’t like that idea. He didn’t like the thought of that bastard knowing what he was up to.

So, as he leaned an arm on the counter, he said, “I’d like a room for the night.”

“Just the one night, sir?”

“That’s right. I’m only here for a business meeting—back on the road tomorrow.”

“Well, Mister…”

“Roy.” Ward smiled, amused that Trent’s name had come out of his mouth.

“Yes, well, Mister Roy, I have a suite available. We have a complimentary dinner and breakfast service in our restaurant, and, of course, we aim to make your stay as comfortable as possible. We’d love to help you recover from the stresses of the road, even if it’s for only a single night. We offer laundry service and shoe shining, and we can certainly hone the edge of your blade or clean your firearms. Moreover, we have a steam room and a barber, and, should your muscles be tense from your travels, I can provide a masseuse.”

“I’m sold!” Ward smiled.

“Very good, sir. It’s two-hundred per night. If you have luggage…” He trailed off, looking past Ward at the polished marble flooring.

“Nope. Just what I’m wearing. I’d hoped to leave today, but the business deal went a bit sideways.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Here you are.” Ward slid two, large, golden glories onto the counter. He hoped whatever he found in the dead sorcerer’s room would be worth the investment. Besides, he’d gotten more than that off Thrund’s corpse.

“And here you are, Mister Roy.” The manager slid a very familiar-looking key toward him. “Suite twelve. You’ll find it on the second floor.”

Ward took the ornate key, tipped his hat, and started for the stairs. It was interesting to him that the hotel numbered its suites linearly, rather than starting with a number that matched the floor level. It made him wonder how and when that convention had begun on Earth. He supposed it had a lot to do with the number of rooms. In a modern hotel on Earth, you might have hundreds of rooms, so knowing what floor each was on based on the number was a matter of necessity as much as convenience.

“Good afternoon, sir,” the security guard said, nodding as Ward passed. Ward noted the polished wooden handle of an alchemical pistol on his belt. His spear looked like it was meant for more than show, too. The edge gleamed in the lamp light.

“Afternoon.” Ward tipped his hat again. He laughed inwardly at himself. He was getting used to the old hat tip. He climbed the steps to the second floor and smiled when he saw a brass plaque on the wall that read, “Suites 11-20.” He strolled down the hallway, and when he came to number twelve, he looked over his shoulder to ensure no one had followed him up, then kept walking. At the very end, he stopped before a door with brass numerals that read, “19.”

He sniffed and listened, but nothing that alarmed his instincts came to his senses, so Ward slipped Thrund’s key into the lock and opened the door. Part of him had been sure he’d be too late; he’d arrive to find the room clean and all of Thrund’s belongings gone. He was pleased to see that pessimistic side of himself proved wrong. The room was a mess—the blankets were strewn on the floor, dirty clothes were piled near the door to the restroom, and a large leather suitcase was open on the table near the window.

At first, Ward thought the place had been tossed. He figured someone, probably the city watch, had gotten there ahead of him and looted anything of value. As he looked around, though, and let his nose do a little exploring, he only found the lingering scents of a single man, one he knew all too well—Thrund. The room hadn’t been ransacked; Thrund was just a slob. How long had he been staying there, and why hadn’t the hotel staff cleaned his suite?

Ward could only assume it was due to the paranoia that came with the territory when one was a sorcerer. Thrund didn’t want cleaners messing with his stuff. He walked around the room, kicking his boots through the clothes on the floor to ensure he didn’t miss anything that might have been lazily dropped here or there, but his focus was on the suitcase on the table. When he reached it, he saw that it was mostly empty—the clothes were all over the room, after all—but there were a few items inside that caught his eye.

First and foremost was a black leather book stitched with red runes. It had a leather strap and silver clasp that held it closed and Ward knew better than to try to open it before he’d had someone look at the runes. For instance, he’d had his own grimoire enchanted so that if someone other than he opened it, the pages would erase themselves. Ward wasn’t sure this was Thrund’s spellbook, but it felt and looked like it fit the bill. It was slender and only about eight inches by six, so he slid it into his satchel.

Beside the book was a small crystal about the size of his pinky, and it was mounted on a golden base to sit upright. It pulsed with soft, periodic yellow and red lights. Ward had no idea what it was, but he took it, adding it to his increasingly full satchel. Beside the crystal was a tiny envelope, and Ward could hear and feel the contents inside when he picked it up. It felt like sand, but the wax seal gave a different impression—a red skull and crossbones. Into the satchel, it went.

Finally, there was another, full-sized envelope. It was open, and Ward could see a single sheet of paper inside. When he pulled it out and unfolded it, his mouth fell open. “Sonofabitch.” It was a very well-drawn likeness of himself. His surprise turned into a grin as he folded the paper and put it back into the envelope. If he wanted proof that Thrund hadn’t randomly decided to duel him, this was it. More importantly, he had a feeling he might be able to glean some more secrets from the drawing.

Ward ran his fingers over the lining of the suitcase. It was silk and very smooth, but when he pressed on the bottom inside edge of the case, he found something that bulged and clinked with the tell-tale sound of coins. “Well, well,” he chuckled, ripping the lining away. A leather pouch fell into his hand and when he pulled it open, he found a dozen large, golden glories, and no less than nine coin-shaped gemstones—all-in-all more than ten thousand glories.

“Very clever,” Grace said, catching him off guard for the first time in a long while.

“Dammit, Grace!” he growled after dropping the pouch and grabbing the hilt of his sword.

Her lips curled into a smug smile. “Did you forget I was here?”

“Well, you’ve been surprisingly quiet, and, yeah, I kind of did. It’s been a while since I tossed a hotel room.”

Grace arched an eyebrow at the comment, but she let it go. “You’re not going to open that spellbook are you?”

“Nah, I’ll find someone who can read the runes and see if there’s a way to get into it without ruining the spells.” Ward moved away from the little table and waved his hand at the mess. “Now, do you mind if I finish before someone shows up?”

“By all means.”

Ward smiled; he was feeling good about the windfall, and it would take more than Grace startling him to banish his good mood. He finished searching the room, coming up empty other than a half-empty bottle of very expensive-looking brandy. He almost took the liquor, but something told him Thrund was the kind of guy to drink out of the bottle, and Ward didn’t like the idea of drinking after him. He slipped out of the room, quickly walking down the hall and into his suite. Not a single person had seen him go in or come out of Thrund’s room, so he was feeling rather pleased with himself.

Aside from being clean and tidy, his room was very similar to Thrund’s. After locking the door, he walked over to the little sitting area and collapsed onto the couch. “I’m feeling this day all of a sudden,” he said, knowing Grace was listening.

“It’s been eventful. What were you doing in the square by the way? You seemed really distracted. Were you looking for other sorcerers? Did you see that woman with the pointy ears and those eyes?”

“First of all, just to be a smartass, you know that if you saw her, I did, right?” Ward smirked and Grace punched him in the shoulder. “Yeah, I saw her—” He laughed. “—and yeah, I was looking around taking in the sights and smells.”

“Are you going to stay here tonight?”

“Nah. Figured I ought to at least look at the place, though, considering the two-hundred glories.”

Grace made a pfft sound. “Just go downstairs and tell them your meeting was cancelled and you need to leave. I bet they’ll refund you. It’s only been half an hour.”

Ward raised an eyebrow. “You think?” He jumped up; he might have plenty of money at the moment, but he wasn’t rich enough to throw away two hundred glories. “I’ll try it. Then I’m going to find Haley and take her out for a big dinner. I need a steak.”

“Oh, come on! Eat in your room! I’m sick of hiding.”

Ward looked at her, took in her pitiful expression and sighed heavily. “Fine. We’ll get some food and bring it back to the room. We can have a séance, too.” He opened the door, looked left and right, and when he didn’t see anyone, he started walking briskly toward the stairs.

Grace wasn’t ready to hide yet. “What do you mean a séance?”

“You know, my Reveal Secrets spell. I’ll cast it on this drawing. Hopefully it’ll lead us to Veylan’s middleman; I doubt he’s the one who drew it or hired Thrund to duel me. Once we get ahold of the middleman, though, we can start to work on a plan to get to him.”

“Seriously? We’re really doing this? Ward, it’s like taking on a senator in the US government.”

Ward slowed his steps so he could talk to her a minute before getting into earshot of the guard at the base of the stairs. “Yeah, I realize we’re up against something big here, but we’ve got some people in our corner. I’m not sure I can trust Coral, but… Don’t laugh, but my instinct is that he’s all right.”

“Oh, I won’t laugh. I agree you should investigate further, but let’s take things slowly. We need to be sure and move carefully. There are powerful people in this city, Ward—in more ways than one.”

Ward smiled and reached out to nudge her chin with his knuckles. “You’re preaching to the choir, Grace.” He nodded toward the stairs. “Now hide before one of those powerful people notices you.” When she didn’t respond and he turned to look at her only to find empty carpeting, Ward continued down to the lobby, intent on getting back his two-hundred glories.