faderift | [ CLOSED ] WAR TABLE: INVESTIGATE COMTESSE DE VELONEY

WHO: Herian, Anders, Issana, Velanna, Pam, Malcolm
WHAT: A series of disappearances in the Orlesian countryside has culminated in the vanishment of some of the Inquisition's own scouts. A team has been sent to investigate the estate of one Comtesse Eléonore Vaillant de Veloney.
WHEN: Over the span of 4 days in the 2nd week of Harvestmere.
WHERE: Estate of Comtesse Eléonore Vaillant de Veloney
NOTES: Trauma, gore, dark themes, homicide, pretentious wine usage, other things not labeled as to avoid spoilers.

Welcome to the Estate

It is a terrible misfortune, all these disappearances- but with a civil war on and all this strange Venatori and Red Templar activity- with the rifts in the countryside? People simply not appearing where they ought is a sad reality. Nothing to be done for it. That such an esteemed noblewoman has found herself unjustly accused simply due to her wealth and prosperity? Cannot stand. Comtesse de Veloney invited the Inquisition herself to investigate her manor and put the matter to rest- they are to be afforded all the cooperation and respect imaginable.

Even the mages. Even the elves.

They are met at the gate by a veritable delegation of footmen led by the Gardener and Tanner to see them inside and out of the stormy, dreary weather. Packs are secreted off to rooms (a lovely set of suites in the east wing if the Steward does say so herself), baths drawn (The Comtesse insists, it's been just dreadful and they've come all this way), and a lavish banquet prepared.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A chevalier? If one had gone missing, would they have heard of it? "When you say sooner than you expected..." he prompts. "Did they give any reason? Are some of those refugees still here, by any chance?"

"I though they were settling in. The work can be tedious, true, and sometimes it's hard labor when the storms mean the gutters need clearing or when the bulk of the laundry needs to be done- but it's good work, they're paid, given room and board. One day I sent for them and they'd, well. Left. One of the scullery maids came from the same village, she, her sister, an her brother still work for us." It's not difficult, living here. Working here.

Why they'd leave, she doesn't know. "...Some of my maids, also, have returned home. The Comtesse marries some of them off now and then when she feels they're prepared to step into a new station but- some return home. I've written to ask after them, but never heard word."

Valet and scullery maid, two in particular to ask after. He frowns in thought, hand idly petting Milady's concerned head. The steward doesn't, of course, accuse de Velony of anything, but there is something mildly concerning going on. It's true that anything could have gotten their people, even rifts, but that specifically the Countess was rumored means it's the only lead they have.

"Thank you for the information. Anything you can think of that strikes you, do not hesitate to let one of us know. The better picture we have of what may be happening, the sooner we can find out people and be out of your hair." He makes a motion down the hall. "Please, let's continue."

"...If you find anything, what happens? To the rest of us." IF there's anything to be found. If there's anything going on. She glances back down the hall, suddenly tense, before motioning for Malcolm to duck into an alcove with her. Voice tense, she whispers. "I don't-"

Know. She can't be sure. "...My keys. I have thirteen, always, for the suits and the linens and the servants quarters. Or I should always. Some mornings when I wake up there are only twelve. I go about my business and by the next evening that last key is back and...I don't know the door it belongs to. I have never asked. We have a good life here, we're paid well but-"

Things have just gotten very tense very quickly. He follows, and listens, while he motions for Milady to keep watch. (A dog can run interference, just in case someone snoops by.)

He places a firm hand on her shoulder to still her nervous rambling. "What happens entirely depends on if we find anything and what we find. I cannot say. As for your keys..." A squint. "I find it unusual that you would be given keys and not told what all they are for. Where do you keep them when you go to bed? Do you lock your door? You haven't any idea which door the key might belong to?" And perhaps a locksmith or a highly skilled lockpicker might be able to take a key, see a lock, and suggest they might be a pair, but on simple sight alone, there's no way to tell.

And there must be a hundred doors in this place, and those are just the ones they can see. "How often does the key get taken? Our arrival might disrupt the pattern, but do you think they might take it again soon?"

"On my nightstand, in case I am needed at a late hour. I haven't heard anyone and I thought- the Comtesse says there are only twelve keys on the ring, when I was steward before for the Comte? There were only twelve. She came, and so did the key. I didn't think anything of it but- that she says there are only twelve? I know there are thirteen-" She slips a hand down to pull the chain from her waist, thumb running across the ornate loops. "See? This. This one-"

Wrought iron among the silverite and brass, plain black rather than ornate or brightly polished. "It does not match any key on the upper floors. It is taken once a month, the night of the new moon. Exactly then."

The new moon due in two nights hence. "Can you promise me my sister's safety? Please. I do not know what may be hidden here but I need to know she'll be taken care of."

This has all come on rather suddenly, but he remains calm. Still, this is a lot to ask of a mere stranger. A stranger with status, yes, but--

"On that night, I will watch your room. Should this person," and if the key came with the Comtesse, he suspects it is her, "come for the key on that night, I will deal with them." Deal with means either apprehending them on the spot or following them, he's not sure yet.

"Take a deep breath and tell me of your sister."

She reaches up, squeezing the hand on her shoulder. Some of the terrified tension remains but- she eases somewhat. A little. This is a Seeker. They see justice done, the Chantry's will done. If anything is wrong and he finds it?

There shouldn't be. It's just her imagination. But the key-

"Amelie. Her name is Amelie and she works with the Cook. I thought the kitchen would be the safest place for her and it's been true. I think- all the Scullery maids love the Cook. Ignatia. She came down with the Comtesse- apparently had worked with her family for years but I know she's some kind of- of witch. Or mage. If something's wrong? It's her. I know it's her."

Panic will do no good in this situation. And now already an accusation has come, one he suspects is borne of fear, of needing someone to blame. He still has others he'd like to speak to, places to inspect--this could, after all, have nothing to do with any missing people. They could, after all, have gotten picked off in the woods, taken out by demons from rifts, and the Comtesse was just the most obvious target for people in the area to point fingers at. (Besides, if she starts saying 'it's the cook because she's a mage', well, the mages of the group aren't going to be very happy.)

"Lady Valery. Be careful with your suspicions. Rest assured that we will try to understand what's going on here." And he'll keep an eye on that sister, but there should be no reason for her to be in danger. And if there is? Then as far as he can tell, they are all in danger. "I would like for you to remain calm and go about your duties, and please come get one of us if you think of anything more."

"She's something." Maybe not a mage, maybe not even guilty but- "She tells fortunes like some hedgewitch every night and my sister listens. She shares the stories this woman tells her and-"

And maybe it's frustration at work, here. Maybe it's fear. But she needs to know that someone will be looking into this. Anyone. Trembling and tense Valery swallows. Steadies herself little by little until she is as calm and composed and poised as she had been at the beginning of their tour. "I. Of course, Seeker."

If she sees anything? She will send word.

Stories can be just stories, and fortunes are ways for anyone with a set of cards, or sticks and rocks and bones, to pass the time or scam some money. Being a hedgewitch is a serious accusation whether the cook is involved in anything or not. Malcolm will keep it in mind, since he's likely to poke around the kitchens for the scullery maids and the sister anyway, but he's not going to make it a priority without anything more to go on.

One more squeeze of her shoulder, and he straightens, gives Milady a look--everything seems to be clear--and steps back out into the hallway. Nothing to see here, nothing ever happened.

Nothing out of the ordinary. Just. Discussing a particular painting. Valery steps back out into the hall, composure held, head high, and resumes the tour.

Nothing else of note comes to light.

[ CLOSED ] WAR TABLE: INVESTIGATE COMTESSE DE VELONEY

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject