The guard, still a bit on edge from the previous encounter, spots the girl approaching the front gate, and stands his halberd on its end. "Ah. If it isn't Sienna! Went out to meet uncle Grevmir, didya? You're becoming a ripe young woman, you are! Be careful around the lads, would ya? Oh, and my boy Aldrin's still a bachelor, if you're interested. Haha."
Without any issue, she got her entry into the city proper.
The girl continued to stroll forward as if she hoped to simply slip through without being seen. While she was on the shorter side, she wasn't that short, and the guard took notice. Sienna's weight shifted and her hand began to slip to the hilt of her blade instinctively before she heard her name. Oh, she had passed by this guard quite a few times. With a nod Sienna waved to the guard and smiled, "Oh yes, just a little visi-" An eyebrow raised as the man immediately spun the conversation into a compliment. She could feel her cheeks getting warm, and huffed on through the gate. "I can take care of myself thank you!"
Last thing she heard from Gerald (His name, she'd know) was "...they grow up so fast."
The sprawling city of Mordranyr lays before Sienna. She could visit her auntie Hilde at the Frothy Tankard, or do whatever else she wanted. The sun's starting to set, but most of the stores are open well after sundown.
Milvena waited for the others to leave, offering them the opportunity to ask her for help and then began to make her way out herself. However before she could actually depart she was noticed that one of the others she had found somewhat interesting still remained. The changeling woman who had been described as a bard.
The noble walked over to the other woman and extended a hand. “A pleasure to meet you. I don’t see many of your kind who choose to wear such a form openly. You look almost like my family does, without our heritage.”
Lyric was only slightly disappointed when Sienna said she could play an instrument. And she laid into thought. She could play a few herself, or sing, but when it came to dancing she had too much fun typically. The kind of fun that made it difficult to hide her true nature. Maybe they could collaborate, or maybe divide and conquer the crowds.
But by the time she was done imagining the different things that could happen, Sienna was gone, and the Lady Milvena was approaching her. Lyric had been around nobility before and she knew how to act, but that mostly entailed keeping a straight face, her distrust and contempt hidden carefully.
She was surprised momentarily that the woman was able to peg her lineage so easily, but she was a well read woman for sure and it wasn't as if Lyric didn't fit the bill. Especially in dark confined places like this. Looking down at her hands as she reached her hand out to Milvena's, she noticed that it was paler than usual. Well that would sure explain it. Brushing it off, her skin grew more rosy and her eyes a brighter shade of blue. She decided to shake the woman's hand, with both hands, and to give her a smile. "A pleasure indeed. I suppose that comes with the territory. Magical beings and all." If the woman had seen through her there was no point in hiding it now. Not to mention, she wanted to see the woman's reaction. Her voice was a bit rushed though, she wanted to be out of this box.
'What a presumptuous man.' she complained in thought. All that really mattered was she had made it though the gate for the moment. With the city before her it was always tempting to examine the sights, but Sienna decided it was best to find what supplies had been laid for the group before doing any window shopping. She quietly passed through the streets on the familiar route to the Frothy Tankard.
Brianna, not seemingly having a part to play in this upcoming event, would leave the rest to their preparation. She thought someone had mentioned they were going back to the Inn, and then looked back over toward Lyric. She was engaged with another, and Brianna had to think for a second back to the introductions to recall that her name was Milvena. Approaching the both, Brianna would ask a very simple question once they had finished exchanging their pleasantries.
"Shall we leave here and head back toward the Inn together, or should we leave separately?" Brianna had a simple objective in mind, and it was to get into the city proper. She could likely stay at the Temple to Methel if she needed to keep her distance from the others, but she would go to the Inn all the same if there was no real danger in doing so. Brianna had previously performed near here when she was in the circus and had presumed the temple was still inside the city walls.
Milvena accepted the taking of her hand and observed as the changeling shifted skin color so as to blend in better and stand out less. “You look less like my sister now.” Milvena said, smiling slightly at the other woman. “Our bloodline tends towards a very particular appearance.”
It was at this time that Brianna approached and Milvena disengaged her hand from the shapeshifter’s grip. “If you two would like, I believe I can get us in without an issue. There are not many who would stop and question a Lady of House Nesalee after all, and we are working together.”
The Frothing Tankard inn is one of the outer city ring's most visited establishments. Dwarves are fairly rare among the city's population, and their ale is in high demand. Hilde'd make a killing if the crown hadn't taxed import drink so heavily. When her cousin walked into the bar, the innkeeper was already up to her neck in the lunch rush orders, but she managed a greeting.
"Sienna, honey! Welcome, welcome! Did y'oncle Grevmir send ye? Be a good lass and bus a few tables for me, will ye? I'll make it worth yer while, aye?"
She smiled at the girl warmly, before picking two large serving trays from the counter, full of steaming bowls of stew and ice cold pints of ale, freshly tapped from enchanted casks that never ran warm.
Hilde is a heavyset dwarf female, with thick brown hair and a five o'clock shadow betraying the unceasing growth of beards on dwarves of both sexes. She is 4'3" and has a bust to write home about. She wears a tight leather corset that hurts her breathing, causing her to be nearly perpetually out of breath while she works, but it pushes up her bosom to even more impressive size. She wears blue henna tattoos, which label a dwarven woman as unwed. So far, no men have shown up to claim her, however.
A coinpouch is held up by her well-shaped hips, which constantly jingles with what coin is inside. Those that try touch it get to experience the power of her backhand.
The inn sports twelve six-seat tables, haphazardly placed around the dining floor. A fire roars in the far back of the room, which heat is so uncomfortable, a good twenty feet of space is left free around it. Some might use this space for dancing, but not many hold out for long. Sienna would know 'Hot-Foot' dance contests are held here once every month, where the last to faint due to the heat gets a free pint every day until the next contest. Bets are placed on the contestants, and good money can be made this way, if you know who to bet on.
Currently the place is absolutely packed.
Next to the fireplace is a stairwell that leads up to the rent-able rooms, ten in total. Sienna knows they are humble, sporting little more than a bed, a trunk, and a bedside table, but they are well cared for. On the bottom stair lies a fat, black cat, whom she knows is named Charcoal. It keeps the rooms pest-free, for the most part, but spends most of its time lazing about and tripping unsuspecting patrons.
The table closest to the entrance is currently held by a group of rugged men clad in leather and wool. Hunters, perhaps, or shepherds. The inn is a melting pot of different smells, so it's quite difficult to tell by that. The men keep to themselves, and communicate in little more than groans and nods. Their dirty dishes are neatly stacked besides them. They seem to have respect for the woman running the business, and thus make it easy for their table to be bussed. Sienna recognizes one of them as Berg, a hunter that sometimes rents Grevmir's lodge during the winter. A scar lines his cheek and eye, and the eye is glazed over with either cataracts or scar tissue. It's hard to tell, and she's never asked.
The second table, closest to the bar, is filled with drunk, rambunctious guardsmen. This one is in the most dire need of servicing, as some of the dishes are teetering on top the disheveled stacks. However, a good number of these men are holding up tankards for refills, which means it might be more work than Sienna's willing to take. "Hey, missy!" One calls out, recognizing the girl from their previous visits. "We're empty! Mind getting us another keg?"
This table is at the center of the room, and people of all different shapes and sizes sit at it. They make merry with one another, but not in a totally familiar way. Likely they'd met today, at the table. The one that stands out among them is a Goliath, who dwarfs the others by at least a foot, and usually more. A large sword is propped against the table, beside him. It has dings along its edge, but it seems taken care of well enough, otherwise.
The table in the far corner of the room isn't entirely full. Only three are seated at this table, and they are all partially obscured by the shadows cast by the fireplace. They're all wearing cowls, and a sinister air hangs about them. They speak among themselves casually, it seems, as only shouting would make them audible from more than a foot away. One of them seems to be an elf of some kind, as their cowl has slits through which long, pale ears find their way outside. This figure is missing their left ring finger, Sienna notices. A small stack of dirty dishes is pushed to the edge of the table where nobody is seated.
All other tables are seating nondescript patrons she does or doesn't recognize, but none of them are worth noting at this point. Four of these tables need bussing.
Annealer and Yvette arrive at the second tier of the Citadel, passing through an intermediary gate without being bothered. The guard stationed here only bothers people they find suspicious.
This level of the city is home to most of the businesses that aren't food- or drink related, and just about anything you could need can be found here. As such, the second tier is known as the 'Ring of Plenty', though poor folk call it 'Rich man's Paradise.' as only one with enough wealth could buy whatever they wanted, here.
The archives are in the third tier of the city, known as the 'Highloft' district. Peasants are usually stopped at its gate, but Yvette has access through her license as a scholar. It no longer gives her as much privilege as it used to, but at least she can still get into the archives, and is allowed to bring someone into Highloft with her.
The housing in Highloft is obviously designed to house wealthy folk, with marble and other volcanic rock being at the forefront of the materials used to erect the buildings here. At the very center of this tier lies a large set of stairs that leads to the fourth and final tier of the citadel, through which only military and nobility are allowed entry, and only sparingly.
Next to these stairs lies the archives, one building on either side. The left building is heavily guarded, as it houses arcane- and religious texts and artifacts. The right building much less so, as this one holds mostly historical tomes, building plans and other civil documents.
A set of guards stand out front, in a uniform different to that from the town-guard. Their uniforms are blue, and they wear a chest plate and blue robes. They are privately hired.
They stop the pair of women, and inquire the following: "Good day. I see you bear the insignia of recognized scholar, but your companion does not. Who is she and what is both of your business, here?"
The three women who were last to leave the forest are let into the city without much of any issue. None of the guards dare speak up to a lady of house Nesalee, especially one capable of staring daggers into you without even attempting to look intimidating.
Despite all the sights that would have been practically exotic to a farm girl like Yvette, she retained her usual defensive posture. Her head was flanked by her shoulders, and her gaze rarely left the street. She would often walk ahead of Annealer, and every now and then looked back as if to make sure she was still there. Tap scrape tap went her staff on any cobblestone that stuck out more prominently than the others.
That was how she looked on the outside, but internally she was mentally preparing herself for the next set of guards: like when she elaborated on Brienne's plan during the meeting, Yvette went over dozens of possible paths and outcomes. Lying didn't seem to work last time, and just as well since doing so made her uncomfortable--but she can't tell them the truth about Annealer. Then again, Annealer was the one who got them through the gates last time. Maybe she could do it again.
By the time she came to a conclusion, they stood before the guards. Like a nervous child, Yvette, pointy ears drooping, shuffled behind Annealer as though hiding.
Anne raised a brow as the scholar hid behind her, and calmly, though firmly, maneuvered the girl back in front. "Oh, I'm sorry, sirs. This is my daughter. Such a shy one, she is. Spends more time with her nose in books than she does looking for a husband. I completely understand if I can't hold her hand on her way in, so I'll just wait outside. Honey, darling, I'll be right here if you need me, okay? Momma's not going anywhere."
The ends of Yvette's ears turned red, matching the shade that spread over her cheeks. Somehow Annealer's act seemed more embarrassing than cowering behind her. It took a moment for her to find her voice. "I'm... I will just be looking at some of the books," she said in deadpan, unable to look any of the guards in the eye. Like last time, her hands wrung her staff, their fingernails digging into the wood.
The guards parted to allow the girl entry, and she'd end up in the lobby. A small reception lay at the end of the room, with two desks and stools for the vertically challenged. Only one of the desks is manned. A young gnome sits at his station, tiny glasses down on the tip of his nose. He doesn't realize Yvette's presence until she's already stood in front of him. "Oh! Hello, there, miss. Are you lost?- Oh! That's the scholarly insignia of Mord! My apologies. I usually deal with dusty old men, haha! What can I do for you?"
Maybe it was getting through the guards, or finally being unaccompanied, or the familiar and cozy smell of books surrounding her, but Yvette was suddenly at ease. As though undoing a belt that was tied around her chest, she was able to breathe, which was why she actually smiled at the gnome--a small smile. "Hi. I'm just looking for some things. I'd like to find them on my own, please."
"Well, you're free to roam the halls, of course, but it might be hard to find what you need on your own. You sure you don't want to be pointed in the right direction?" The gnome looks at the half-elf like he's endeared by how little she knows. "The archives are vast, miss. You could spend a whole day in just one section of it and only be halfway through it!"
Upon describing the archives' labyrinthine nature, Yvette's ears bounced, and a serene expression flashed over her face. It wouldn't be so bad to get lost in there, would it? She had a few days before they set the plan in motion, after all. "O-okay. I mean... Okay. I would like to find the schematics for the older parts of the city. To study. Please." Yvette's thumbs twiddled on her staff, but this time in enthusiasm rather than anxiety.
Brianna for the time being had no immediate task that required her attention. Travelling with Lyric and Melvina (I think I got the names right?) yielded immediate benfit as there was no issue gaining access through the gate into the city. There were a few things that crossed Brianna's mind for what she could possibly do with the down time. Perhaps a visit to the temple was in order, though there was no immediate reason to do so.
Brianna would contine with the other two toward the Inn. If they had other plans for the time veing, Brianna would instead head to the Temple of Methel first before heading to the Inn.
"Hmm... I'm afraid you need approval to gain access to the old town schematics, miss. Do you have documentation?" He replies, sternly. "Giving access to those archives all willy nilly could endanger the city's inhabitants!"
It was then that Yvette's anxious nature seeped back into the fore. Her ears lowered once again. "Do, um... I, uh..." She tried counting to ten: an exercise that her mother--not her biological one--had taught her. But in that instance she could only get to three before sputtering, "Is Archivist Polus here? He can vouch for me."
"Polus? That old greybeard? Yes. He should be. Hold on. Stay right here, and I'll go get him."
In a blink, the gnome disappeared from behind the counter, and Yvette would hear an audible thump as his feet hit the floor on the other side after he hopped off his stool.
Yvette's ears twiddled. She was certain that Veramus would let her in. Like a good, honest scholar, she remained in front of the desk and waited for the gnome to return.
A good five minutes pass, before a nearby door opens and Veramus Polus appears. "Yvette!" He exclaims, smiling wide beneath his thick, grey beard. "What brings you to the civil archives? Archivist Chevil was up in arms about national safety! We must commend his zeal, so I'll supervise you during your visit. Where are we going, exactly? I heard something about building plans?"
The gnome appeared back behind his desk, and worked on as if nothing had happened.
Yvette relaxed again. The thin smile returned, showing genuine delight at Veramus' arrival. Her twiddling slowed, and her ears rose back up. "Hello, Veramus. I would like to study architectural plans for... architectural plans for..." Yvette hunched her shoulders just a little, and she tugged at Veramus' sleeve as though urging him to lead the way.
Milvena was pleased that the guards had not dared to intervene. If they had she simply would have fixed them with a patented House Nesalee glare guaranteed to make them think better about it. It was one of the advantages of her birth, and she would make use of those advantages when it was beneficial to herself and to the others in their joint endeavor. For now she was content to accompany her new companions to the inn.
"I confess to being curious. I know why I have joined in this endeavor of ours. But I do not know yours. Lyric for instance could easily avoid conflict simply be using her natural talents." She smiled at the others. "In the interest of fairness if you tell me, I will share with you as well. Though not in such a place as this."
The mid-fourties scholar smiled. Yvette, though being an adult woman, now, was still that adorable shy kid he remembered. He'd let her pull him into the archives, and then proceeded to guide her towards the section with building plans. "What plan are we looking for?"
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