A Frigid Grasp - 8. An 'Open' Invitation

It had been two weeks since Arden’s attempted kidnapping. Roland was expending as much resources as he could trying to find answers. Their prisoner was unwilling to cooperate, however, and all they had were a few leads from their camp just outside the city. He was filing away paperwork when there was a gentle, rhythmic rap on the door. Arden let himself in, still in his ‘Elliot Goulding’ disguise. His mask concealed most of his face and his garments were generally a different color from his regular ones. But if you’d watch Arden long enough, you’d know this man was he. Under the mask, a playful smirk played on his lips. “No news yet, Guard Captain?”

“Sadly, no,” Roland huffed. “What brings you here, Master Goulding?”

“No need for pleasantries, Roland. I’ve told you this.” Arden strode to the door and slammed it shut before waving a hand over the silencing rune. “Thank the Maker for my little trinkets. We’re free to speak as usual. Now, I’ve a suggestion on wringing information out of that hag that tried to kidnap me.”

That definitely drew Roland’s attention. “You do?”

Arden nodded. “I’ve been made aware the practice isn’t common here in the more Southern regions. A soothe-saying would solve all our problems, albeit it would take a while.”

“Soothe-saying?”

“A method of having a specialist mage compel someone to speak the truth. That or we can go straight to a truth-saying. That forces the truth out.”

Roland shot up from his chair, unsure of what to think. “There are such methods? Are they not blood magic? Illegal?”

Blood magic was a frowned-upon art, by the mundane and mages alike. It used life force to summon demons to cause mostly-catastrophic damage.

Arden was shaking his head with a grin. “I see you’d assume as much. No, it does not need blood magic. It’s a rather simplistic spell. But only few are authorized to handle it, and it would need certified mages and Templars to watch over the proceedings. As it is, the words of a mage may be dubious, but their work is undoubtedly useful. This causes a lot of suspicion up north, but it gets most of the job done. It’s not as good as actual evidence, but it helps with getting clues and details.”

“So all this time, we could have had the mages help us?”

“I did speak with the Templars and the Mages about the matter. They were generally surprised about me knowing, but I offered up my background in Bassan and Minoire. They took it in stride. No one in Bosefestung is trained, per se. But a letter to Bassan or Minoire should solve the issue.” Arden’s wry grin was almost playful. “I had your brother write up a draft. With your approval, and signature, we can send the letter.”

Roland didn’t feel all that relieved. “So you’d been acting on your own? No one’s been suspicious?”

Arden shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “I play the part of the Valeria errand boy. But rumor has it that Rustan’s been eloping with me.”

Roland frowned at that. “Rustan?”

Arden’s grin turned smug as he sauntered over to the Captain and put a hand on his chest. “Relax, love. He’s more interested in women. And I in you.”

Roland gave a nervous laugh as he spun them around, Arden between the desk and the armored Captain. “I think I’d rather be inside you.”

Arden flustered but recovered enough to smile slyly. “Oh Captain, you scoundrel!”

“You opened yourself up for that.”

“And I’ll open up more for you when—“ The door shook with a strong knock, making them both jerk apart. “Oh, well, that’s a shame. That sounds urgent.”

Roland growled and wrenched his door open, seeing one of his newest cadets there with a parcel in hand. “This had better be important.”

“The Duke, he wishes to have an audience with you.”

Roland nodded tersely and sent the cadet off. Arden came out of the corner off his office with a wry smile. “Well, I’ll leave you to your business, Captain. I shall hope for the best.” Arden left with a swagger, only a handful of Roland’s men noticing the doctor-in-disguise.

Arden went out to gather herbs at the Underground, a place where rotten lowlives seemed to dwell often. Arden made a few friends here when he taught someone how to make antidotes for their poisons. It wasn’t much, but it was appreciated, especially for rookie idiot assassins, so it would seem. Since then, he’d gotten the green light and was left to his own devices. But with Arden officially gone, he had to resort to a third disguise and had to resort to offering up recipes. They were his special creations; he didn’t mind sharing. His contact of the Underground, a man named Ripper, eyed him suspiciously but said nothing.

There were a few ores and mushrooms to be had in the Underground. Arden often used these to make concoctions, both lethal and otherwise. It wasn’t long before a street urchin joined him.

“You come around here a lot.” Arden regarded the elf with a curious gaze. “Never met someone who willingly came here. You’re a weird one, you are.”

Arden shrugged as he picked the last of the mushrooms. “No one is normal. People just get that notion up there.”

“You like it here?”

“I’m the one for fresh air and sunlight, but I sort of like the crowds here, just a bit.”

“We’re dangerous you know,” the child spoke proudly. “We could steal from you and cut you in your sleep.”

Arden smiled sweetly as he ruffled the elf’s hair. “May be so, but bad things happen when people try to kill me.”

The elf was curiously watching him now as he recounted his wares. “Bad things?”

“I don’t play nice, little one. Not when I’m mad.” Arden then groaned, rolling his eyes. “You might as well come out!” He turned around as the little elf ran, and watched as muggers came out of the shadows. He was in no mood to fight. He didn’t want to crack any necks, either. “Well, what do you want, then?”

“You know where the healer is, don’t you?”

That caught him by surprise. “The healer?”

“That recipe you gave us? His handwriting. So where’s the bloke?” The muggers had daggers and broadswords out, brandishing them with vicious glee. “We could flay your skin until you talk, you know.”

“That’s on a need-to-know basis,” Arden insisted, realizing he might have to fight these people, people who were after him. Whether it was for his benefit or his assassination remained to be seen. They could have worked for that hag for all he knew. “Who’s asking?”

“I am.” Ripper strode into view, a pair of swords on his hips. “You’ve been suspicious since the start.”

Arden knew he chose a bright-eyed youth as a cover, using an intricate and different mask from Elliot. But he knew the mask would raise suspicions. He pulled off the mask, revealing a scarred face thanks to his illusion. “I’m just fetching supplies, Sir. But the healer’s safe, that’s all I can say.”

“Safe?”

“I can’t tell where he is. How am I supposed to trust you or your men? You could sell the information, maybe to the ones who tried to take him.”

Ripper let that sink in and nodded his head. He turned to his men and told them to stand down. “Let the kid pass. No point arguing with him.”

The men dispersed, and Arden heaved a sigh of relief. Ripper walked up to him and Arden prepared for whatever. He knew Ripper was fast with his hands and could stab him at close-range without him noticing. But what he got instead was something surprising.

A letter.

He whispered to Arden’s ear, “Tell him the people down here miss him and his sarcastic ass.”

“Will do,” he answered dumbly, tucking the letter away. He made his way out of the Underground and back to the docks, where he came in from. The Underground encompassed almost the entire city. Its entrances were frequently patrolled by the guards. “Well, that ended better than expected.” He strode around a corner wand was back to being Elliot Goulding. He casually made his way back to hightown to visit an old acquaintance. Of course, they didn’t know it was he, but his affiliation with the Valerias offered some security. In the office, a nurse greeted him before the familiar doctor met up with him. “Doctor Tomag. I came to see how you were doing with the notes Rustan Valeria sent you.”

Tomag was looking well, albeit haggard with all the work he had to deal with. His prices, though not as cheap as Arden’s, were affordable enough for most people. “As well as I can manage. Those notes were a godsend. It was fortunate Master Grey left them to give to me when he left. Such a shame he had to, though. Though I do understand his concerns. Howa re investigations moving along, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“We have a few leads. The rest I cannot say.” Arden added a shrug to punctuate his point. “So glad to see you haven’t been swarmed by patients, though. That means people are trying to stay alive out there.”

“Just wait until winter comes along,” the doctor laughed. “Will that be all, Master Goulding?”

“Actually, I’d like to hear your insights on any displeasure with regards to the doctor. There’s a brooding suspicion the hired help was employed by local noblemen. Any dirt?”

Tomag looked so scandalized, Arden had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “None I know of, Master Goulding. And that’s quite the accusation.”

“Everyone’s growing impatient,” he offered smoothly. “They fear this would affect business in Bosefestung. I’m hoping to have the matter resolved faster than sending in a request visit from Bassan or Minoire.”

Tomag nodded dumbly. “Well, I don’t have any insight. No one’s made mention of the doctor, actually.”

“As it would seem.” Arden let that stew as he bid his farewell. “I’ll see you around then, Doctor Tomag. Take care.”

Roland training his men when he noticed a familiar figure watching from a distance, while someone else familiar was actively trying to speak to him. He gave the men a break before jogging over to Arden and Damal. “I heard you’ve been busy,” Roland accused Arden. He cast a withering glare at Damal. “What’s your business here, then?”

“I just helped your boy spread some letters, Guard Captain,” Damal all but hissed. “Don’t be a prick.”

“He’s been helpful,” Arden added helpfully. His mask did not hide his smile. “I trust you’ve managed the letter yourself then, Captain?”

“The request to Bassan and Minoire? Already sent.”

“Good. Now for a matter that concerns me.” Arden pulled out a latter and handed it to Roland. Roland noticed the cracked wax seal of one of the noble families. It was a rose with two swords, the seal of House Lancelot. He took out the letter and went over its contents, surprised they were hosting a party two weeks from now, and that he and his brother were invited. “I’m not sure what their game is, but it couldn’t hurt to check,” Arden offered.

“I suppose Rustan sent you to let me know that I would be going regardless.”

“In rather dashing dress uniform,” Arden added brightly, waggling his eyebrows. “I look forward to it. He’s bringing me along, seeing if I could help out with anything.”

Roland figured he knew what that meant. He didn’t like the idea. “So any notable guests we should be worried about?”

“The Knight-Commander is sending a representative. The Grand Enchanter will attend personally. The man has more time on his hands than the rest of his Hall, but his work ethic might just be more effective than hers.” Arden’s shrug punctuated his point. “It wouldn’t hurt for us to snoop around there, see what we can find. The four of us would be able to cover many spots at the same time.”

“Four?”

“Damal’s coming with,” Arden explained, jerking a thumb to a proud Damal. “He’s a pickpocket and a lock-picker. Having two people who can pick locks will be helpful.”

“Out of the question. You pick locks?”

Arden grinned sheepishly. “Remember, I don’t rely on my magic too much. And there are hardly any spells that open locks save breaking them altogether. And I’d rather have them not suspect anyone at the party. Besides, I’m not as good as he is.”

Damal and the Captain exchanged unpleasant glares.

“I hate you, lapdog.”

“Doubly so, urchin.”

Arden rolled his eyes and pinched their ears. “Immature louts.” He let go with a flourish and took his leave.

Roland stood straighter and tried to be authoritative over Damal, but the bastard was just as proud and rebellious. “You at least have something decent to wear, don’t you?”

“Arden and I are going to a tailor to get something commissioned. And I’ll clean up well and will at least charm the ladies, unlike your ungracious arse.”

Arden came back and broke their argument by waving between them a ruler. “You might as well save us all the torment, gentlemen, and measure up.” His accusing glare was met with silence. “Or was I too optimistic? Should I have gotten you both something smaller?”

Damal was outright scandalized but Roland laughed his heart out. Arden smacked Damal on the head, a love tap if nothing else, and dragged him off while muttering about being late for the tailor. Roland watched them off, admiring Arden all the more.

He just wanted this entire endeavor over and done with.

A week into planning for the upcoming Ball the Lancelots were hosting, Rustan was going over letters sent to him by the other nobles, seeking his audience and offering their daughters to him. He did not think of them all cruelly. They were just pushy, as Arden would call them.

The man had been an invaluable asset to him. He had more work done with a second pair of hands to run around the town for him, managing most of his meetings and talks. Arden, or rather Elliot Goulding, had gained favor as the man who cut to the chase and made delicious biscuits. Arden preferred direct approaches when it came to matters of business, and he found himself easily keeping tabs with most of his investments thanks to him.

Arden entered his office with a cup of tea in hand, offering it to Rustan with a soft smile. His disguise was on for the benefit of the servants, and Rustan was quickly growing used to the masked presence. The tea smelled sweet when he took it from him, and a sip earned him a shot of energy. “That’s refreshing.”

“Just mixed some leaves together. I figured the infusion would please you. Oh, and loads of honey. You seem to have the sweet tooth.”

“Thank you,” he sighed happily. “The ball will be next week, and Roland has still to get any leads. We’re not sure what to do at this point except wait for the envoy that letter to Minoire asked for.” They’d been fortuitous that a mage was sent with the approval. There was reluctant approval from the Halls at the gaol. “Are you prepared to mingle at a party full of nobles?”

“And play their game? I’ll try to be the most passive-aggressive and well-mannered bastard there,” Arden remarked wryly. “That’s how you often have to do to deal with noble snobs. So glad you aren’t one, or I’d be making you cry every day.”

“That’s horrifying to imagine,” Rustan laughed. Arden’s sense of humor was so deceiving, polite but hostile. “You’re sure you can make grown men cry?”

“A lot of your nobles here are thin-skinned or have fragile egos. I think the courtesans make them feel worse than their mothers here.” Arden brandished a piece of candy from his pocket and popped it into his mouth. “And simple novelties amaze them, which is stupid. They could even grab some from the nice lady at the Red Lantern District. She sells the things for cheap. If they took time to stay on the ground, they wouldn’t be so lost trying to float around the sky above their heads.”

“Now that’s just harsh,” Rustan chuckled. “But I get what you mean. These nobles tend to be pompous. But they mean well. Well, half of them do.”

“My point exactly.” Arden eyed the window and the scenery it framed. “I miss my work. Healing, I mean.”

“You could go back to it.”

“Maybe when making me bait will be a necessity,” Arden answered curtly. “I’ve been thinking. It would make things go along faster, wouldn’t it? Try to set up a trap and let them get caught.”

Rustan set his quill down and stood up to glare at Arden. “We will not risk your safety. And as I’ve said, the envoy will be coming soon.”

“So nothing until then?” Arden sighed. “Well, it wouldn’t hurt to wait a few more days.”

“It wouldn’t,” Rustan affirmed, setting a hand on Noel’s shoulder. “Now, I’m entrusting you with making a present for the celebrant’s birthday t her ball next week. And I trust your friend’s outfit is finished now.”

Arden nodded. “I’m keeping it in my room until the day comes. And for the Lady Victoria Lancelot? She has a knack for reading. I could give her a book she’d appreciate along with a pastry, custom-made. I’m sure those would please her.”

Rustan was glad Arden was getting to know the noble families better. He was more sociable than most people gave him credit for. “Good to know. Please hop to it. We might not have as much time as we’d like.”

Arden stepped back and made a fanciful bow before making his exit.

Rustan couldn’t help but wonder what would happen in the next few days. He imagined they were all going to have their hands tied. He just hoped they’d all survive everything, figuratively and literally.