Session 5 - He's in a Liga His Own

Last time, on the Horizon… Our heroes awoke on the Valles Estate, the site of their first true joint adventure, each with different tasks to fulfill.
Yves first attempted his, which has then made everyone else’s considerably more difficult.
The Valles family appear to be in some level of disarray, with the new head of the house, Dearica Valles, barely tolerating our heroes’ presence, and young(?) Enrico Valles failing at being a weapon master, according to accusations of a boisterous traveling trainer, Liga Kine.
Yves attempted to shove the unlit lantern of Elijhaa Valles into Enrico’s hands, which enraged the tonberry, and he kicked the entire group out of the Estate.
Over dinner, our heroes dove into the mysterious book ATMA that Bast had found, and Yves managed to translate a considerable portion of it, revealing that once upon a time, a Great Crystal was shattered in Ducorde, and the shards of that crystal became the stars in the night sky… and now the stars were falling, and those who came before were coming home.
However many stars wish to fall out of the sky is a matter for later, Orrey thinks, because Orrey came to the Valles Estate to accomplish a very important task for a very important reason… and as the party plans to split up for the night, Orrey is trying to put a plan into action.
We join our heroes as the train for Kinneas leaves the station, Isa and Yves safely aboard, Orrey, Bast, Linnet, and Ingrid remaining behind…
Ingrid studies Orrey as the train disappears with a final whistle. “Why, exactly, do you need to see these books so badly?”
Orrey closes his eyes and squinches his face up and then just lets go. “Because if I don’t, the people who kidnapped my father will likely kill him.”
“…well, sounds like as good a reason as any to make sure it gets done.” Linnet is floating anxiously two feet behind Orrey.
Orrey breathes out a sigh of relief. “I shouldn’t have told you that. If they find out I told anyone, well, you know. Bad things happen.”
“And that’s why you team up, because secrets burst under pressure. Now. How were you planning to go about this?”
Bast looks interested. “So who’s the ‘they’ we are talking about here?”
“Well, I tried to go through the front door, but that did NOT work. And since the lady of the house did not take kindly to us, I doubt she’d let me in tomorrow, either. ‘They’ are one of the factions currently at war in Saron.”
Linnet glances at the clock over the station. “We’ve got a while before Liga comes in with whatever his kick-in-the-door plan was…”
“There’s more…” Orrey braces himself. “I’ve got to do something horrible to the books.”
Linnet stops floating anxiously and raises her eyebrows. She appears totally motionless in midair. “Go on.”
“They ordered me to add a few things to the books. Some pages that aren’t supposed to be there.”
“…not quite as heinous a crime as destroying them, but there are temporary measures.”
Ingrid, who has been silent since that revelation, speaks back up. “Which group?”
“The Avengers,” Orrey says.
Ingrid’s shoulders stiffen.
Orrey watches her carefully.
“I understand you may have forgotten, since apparently the sky is literally falling, but I know what you’re talking about. I’m from Saron too,” Ingrid says.
Bast thinks. “Did they say they would release him in return, or is this one of those indefinite arrangements?”
Orrey shrugs. “There’s a price to pay. It’s been steadily dropping over time. But it feels like it might be indefinite, sometimes.”
“The Avengers are agents for change — much needed change! — in Saron. Whatever the Unknowing is, we can’t just pretend it never happened. We can’t put our heads in the sand. The Avengers care about Saron. Are you saying that they’re using you like some kind of… literary thug?” Ingrid exclaims.
Orrey meets her head-on. “Ingrid, I almost joined the Avengers. I agree we need change. But I can’t possibly support them after this. I think there might be messages in the writing. Some kind of weird code.”
“Doesn’t sound like a solid recruitment tactic, yeah,” Bast mutters.
Ingrid shakes her head. “It’s someone else masquerading as them. That’s not how they operate. That’s ridiculous. Whatever they’re trying to get you to plant, it’s not them. You shouldn’t.”
“…who else would there be trying to pass themselves off as Avengers?” Linnet asks. “I mean, I’m not all that conversant in local politics, but you’ve clearly got a theory.”
Ingrid has a list ready.
“One, agents of the Hallowed, the people arguing that the Unknowing should never be revealed. Of course they would pretend to work for the other side to throw dirt on their name. Two, a foreign agent looking to destabilize Saron - I had to be careful where I said where I was from when I was in Machanon, because there’s some sort of history there, and-”
Orrey cuts her off. “It doesn’t matter if it’s really the Avengers, or some splinter group, or whatever! If I don’t go through with this, my family suffers.”
The wind goes out of her sails. “…and you’re right. This isn’t about them, it’s about you.” Ingrid settles back down into her characteristic silence.
“And they definitely have him and you know he’s still alive?” Bast asks.
“He was well last month. They don’t let me see him as often as I’d like,” Orrey replies.
Bast nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, sounds like they’ve got you by the ears. So – got a plan? This doesn’t sound like a quick job.”
“Right. So. Someone’s probably still awake somewhere in the estate. How do we get you into the library – or wherever they’re holding whatevers’s going to be auctioned off – and back out without being noticed, and how long do you think it’ll take to make your edits?” …Linnet is startled out of her thoughts. “And did they tell you exactly WHICH titles to edit? Because I’ll be keeping VERY close track. I am NOT bringing intentionally falsified titles back to the university.”
Ingrid speaks up. “Do we know anything about the layout of the Estate? We got in so late last night and got kicked out so early this morning…”
“The butler said the books were in the museum. I’m not sure where that is. But that Kine guy might know. AND he’s planning on breaking in anyway… That’s the only thing I can think of.”
“…so, stall for a few hours, then go get our battering ram distraction?” Linnet says.
Bast looks pained at the mention. “I’m sure he’ll be the soul of discretion about our questions. Though…hm. If we put it to him as a rescue mission…”
Orrey reaches for his bag. “Linnet, I’ll show you everything they gave me here, and my notes on them.”
“Thank you.” Linnet sinks down to the ground and softens her facial expression. Slightly.
“There’s some really weird stuff about the Crystal.” Orrey then turns to Bast. “Rescue mission?”
“Heroic do-gooders tend to bite at that sort of bait very quickly,” Linnet says.
Bast nods in Linnet’s direction. “He seems like the type.”
“True.” Orrey looks around. " Can we find a place a little less…open to discuss what to do?"
Once everyone is ensconced in a corner booth at the Velvet Sundown, as far from the door as possible, Linnet speed-reads Orrey’s notes. “THERE IS MORE THAN ONE WORD FOR CRYSTAL. Good god, y’all. This is why editors exist.” She continues reading. “With all respect, Orrey, my friend, this is a load of temporally adrift, confusing, repetitive and poorly edited chocobo crap. They didn’t think to try to force something convincing into the books? Sheesh.”
“I know!” Orrey exclaims. " And it’s all referencing stuff that has nothing to to with the Empire. It’s modern things. That’s why I think it’s some sort of coded message. But why have such an elaborate way of sending them? Except for the crystal references, but those are odd enough on their own."
“…how many books were you told to insert this into? And which ones? Do you have a list?”
“Three books of ancient magic.”
The titles are written down on one of the notes. Padjal’s White Magery The Fiendish Way of Fighting Green Study, Vol. 1
Linnet drops her head into her arms on the table and swears something about a hellspawned misbegotten of a hurricane and a tornado.
“They say anything about how believable these inserts have to be? Because this sounds like something you need a workshop to do right,” Bast says, looknig at the list.
Linnet just looks at Orrey. “Orrey, I’m sorry, I can’t let you complete your mission unchanged. One of those is the very book I was sent to procure for the Bresha University library.”
At 9 PM, the Velvet Sundown becomes the place to be. A lot of people come filing in, laughing and chatting amongst themselves. Many of them are wearing burgundy and gold vests and trim black pants, and they carry themselves with the air of people who have been saying “yessir” a lot and are very into the idea of not having to say that again.
One of them, you note, is a familiar moogle with a wry smile — the moogle that escorted you to see Dearica Valles earlier today, and then escorted you all the way out. He’s having a very animated conversation with another moogle, and Orrey’s sharp ears catch the word ‘auction.’
Linnet appears to briefly contemplate hiding under the table, but there’s no room and less ability to eavesdrop, so she stays seated.
“Our ‘friend’ from the estate seems interested in the auction.” Orrey tries hard not to stare as he attempts to listen in a bit.
The conversation at the bar picks up. “…doomed. There’s no chance she just lets any of that stuff walk out the door.” “It’s for charity, right?” “Of course, but what does she care? It’s in her name now, so she gets what she wants. Not unless the little shite can stand up to her, but he can’t do anything right.”
“…hellgusts. Sounds like Liga might have had the right idea after all,” Linnet says.
Ingrid keeps her voice down, though there’s a clear undercurrent of excitement in it. “He said he’d be back at midnight to break in, right? Are you going to go with him?”
Orrey nods. “I have to. I’ll make sure to keep the pages in the two books not going to your University, Linnet.”
“…is that going to kill your dad? I mean, if I can see you put in the false pages, I should be able to take them back out again once I get the book back…” Linnet suddenly looks a lot less determined.
“Let me read the instructions again to see if there’s some wiggle room…”
Linnet peers over Orrey’s shoulder.
The instructions Orrey has been given are pretty clear. Three passages, three books.
Bast, after a glance at the other moogle on the scene, continues rather more quietly than the overheard conversation: “…still don’t see the problem. It’s not like he’s taking things out, right? You get it like you were told, tell them ‘By the way, sure looks like something sharding shady was done in this one spot’ and get a pat on the back for your professional acumen.”
“Bast, you’re really good at this…” Orrey looks at him, impressed. “Do you problem solve for a living?”
“Are you taking things out?” Linnet asks. “I mean, putting in new false information sort of implies removing the old information…”
Orrey shakes his head. “It just says add these.”
“Look, I get a little defensive about historical revisionism, okay?” Linnet glares at the top of Bast’s head. “Do you have any instructions about what happens to the books after you edit them?”
“It’s intended for whoever is buying them,” Orrey says.
“…did they have specific targets in mind to buy them? What if they all come back to the university with me?”
“So, I don’t think there’s anything to do besides attach the passages. I don’t know anything about who’s supposed to buy them. We might find out more if we go to the auction, though,” Orrey says.
“Oh, we’re going, but that bit about ‘no way she just lets any of that walk out the door’ has me on edge.” Linnet looks over at the moogle as she thinks about his words. “And, hey, if you don’t have any more specific instructions, then I buy them and we take care of your little problem soon after the fact. Call that Plan Sigma.”
“We could ask that guy what he means about he not letting go of things.”
“Invite him over, sure, see if he’ll talk to us. Why not?” Linnet watches the moogle mingle, trying to size up an opening.
He glances over at the booth after a moment, furrows his brow, and then that same wry smile.
A quick nod to the bartender, and then one moogle and five drinks join you at the booth.
“Now there’s an introduction for the ages. Pardon my staring, I was just trying to remember if I’d caught your name. I don’t think so?” Linnet asks.
“Kulin Kaypop, now that we’re on a bit more even footing. I’d wager Dearica doesn’t like any of us very much.” He nods his head, green pompom bobbing in turn. “You’re in for the auction, right? Best not to get your hopes up.”
“Do tell.” Introductions made all around, Linnet steeples her fingers like she’s plotting and turns her most attentive gaze on Kulin. “About the auction, or about what you did to get on the lady’s bad side. Should be an interesting story either way.”
He’s very comfortable in large groups, and even more comfortable with badmouthing his boss. “Since the good master left us, Dearica has decided she’s in charge, since his son left us just a few days before. News arrived with about two days to spare, so the matter of succession is an issue, not that it’s taken her any time to literally put her name on the place. Enrico thought he’d have a standing, but the boy’s never stood up for himself, why start now? As for why she doesn’t like me, she doesn’t like any of us, and I’d wager if she sticks on, none of us will, and she’ll bring in all her own people. The good master’s things she’ll hate to part with, and I’d not be surprised if every item in that auction ends up being bid out by someone she knows on the sly.”
“What’s the deal with Enrico and the weapons master?” Orrey asks.
“Enrico?” Kulin takes a swig. "Boy’s got no ambition, no drive. Says he doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life, so he keeps trying on new things. Chocobo knight, weapon master, bard, weaver, took a shot at juggling, even. Spending tons of gil to no purpose. He’s got no future.
“Why even have the auction, then?” Linnet asks.
“Ah, see, the good master had already made it known. When you have a year to enjoy a victory lap, you get all your chocobos in a row. Invitations were long since sent out when he finally left. Naught she could do but let it go on, else too many people would complain and start asking questions about who should be running things.” He looks out the window at the night sky. “Shame about Elijhaa. Good kid.”
“One of our companions still has his lantern. Any idea what he should do with it?” Orrey asks.
“Would’ve been awfully nice to ask that question before yesterday…” Linnet mutters under her breath.
“Is that what happened? Itami’s Face, I thought he’d break every door in the building,” Kulin says. “Just bring it to the auction and grab me, I can take it to his old room.”
“Is the auction taking place in the museum?” Orrey asks.
“Yeah, that was it. Our dear researcher friend is a little, uh, socially challenged.”
“That plus breaking a few walls with his head in weapons practice, by the sound of it. Is he paying to get beaten up?” Bast wonders.
“Auction’s in the hall, but they’re keeping the valuables in the vault in the museum,” Kulin says, very casually. “And it’s not like he’s paying to get beat up, he just thought that Kine was someone who could get bought, and not someone who actually tests for talent. Our boy Enrico isn’t worth a dull knife.”
An unexpected weight in Linnet’s bag reminds her of something. “Ah, dust devils. Kuylin, that friend Orrey mentioned who has the lantern? Turns out that’s me right now. Could I just hand it over here to save us all another misadventure?”
“Oh right, Yves doesn’t have it anymore!” Orrey says.
“That’s probably for the best,” Linnet notes.
The smile. “I’d rather not. I’m meeting a friend across the lake tonight, and bringing that about would be a bit of a downer, don’t you think?”
“Point. Auction it is, then.” Linnet traces a finger around the neck of the bottle. “So…this might not be the right time for the question, but…if Dearica wasn’t supposed to inherit and Enrico’s worth about a swallow’s fart in a hurricane, are there any other candidates to take over the house?”
Bast smiles for the first time since Kulin came over. “Mm. So why is Dearica bothering with the auction? Sure, plans made and all that, but we’ve met her. She seems like the type to enjoy making sure no one but her gets their way. Or is her hold on things not as good as she wants people to think?”
Kulin leans back in his chair. “Well,” he says, tapping his bottle against his pompom like a very self-indulgent toast, “Dearica has a claim, but then we’re down to a whole line of folks who have a claim, and not that many people around here who care enough to show up. You’d almost have a better shot with someone the good master worked with before, he was always very good to his friends. And it may be some of those friends who’d show up; his old running partners are due in, the ones that are still with us, at least. I don’t know much about them. And I do wish you well, friends, but if I’m going to get across the lake before the boat leaves, it’s time I take my leave. Look me up on the auction, and take care of yourselves between now and then, eh? Hate to see you tossed out of any more places due to the lack in the social graces.”
“We’ll take that into advisement. Enjoy your evening, Kulin. And thank you,” Linnet adds.
A bow, a bob, and a swinging door.
She turns to the group. “Well. That makes things a little more interesting.”
Orrey lays his head down on the table. “We’ll never make this work. He said vault. That means the books are locked up, and there’s no hope of getting in.”
“Not no hope!” Linnet says, trying to reassure him. “Just…different hope.”
“I’ll say,” Bast mutters. “No one mentioned a vault before. Well. Let’s say you do get in. What then?”
“How could I possibly get in? Is the code based on the history of the Alternan Empire? Or the Twelve? But if I did, I’d have to try to get these passages in. There’s instructions on how to do it.”
As Orrey tries to think of all the ways this can go wrong and all the no ways this could go right, the hands on the clock by the bar spin… until they’re both pointing straight up, and the door opens.
Liga sticks his head in, looks incredibly pleased to see people he recognizes, and positively bounds over. “My most loyal of friends that I have met in the last fourteen hours! Have you come to join me in a heist so daring none dare to… dare?”
Orrey looks ill. “…yes…”
“Well.” Bast scratches his jaw pensively. “I thought we’d just wish you luck, but…there’s been a complication.”
“We have indeed. You shall lead with blade and boot, we’ll take care of the details!” Linnet stops. “…or, fine, we could listen to Bast first.”
“Seems that our good friend-” a nod at Orrey “- was sent here by villains who hold his father captive. His life for our friend’s services, that sort of thing. You were the first person we thought for a daring rescue, but it seems that would not work just now, so…would you happen to know anything about the Valles vault?”
Liga collects all of the bottles off the table as Bast prepares, because anyone coming on a heist with the brilliant (and handsome!) Liga must be in tiptop physical and mental shape, with nothing dulling their wits in the slightest.
Somewhere, Yves is sad.
Liga turns, slowly, to look at Orrey. “Is what he says… true?”
Orrey nods forlornly.
Liga looks at Orrey, pupil-less wide white eye to eye. “I will aid you in any manner that I am able to rescue your father from those vile villainous villains who would do something so base and uncouth and uncivilized and ILL MANNERED as that.”
“Well said, sir Liga! We’re all ears. Well, not literally, but all of the available ears are at your disposal.”
“Information on the vault? A simple thing! To call it a vault would be to sell all right-thinking vaults shamefully short. It would be more accurate to call it an overlarge closet door, inside which lie unspeakable treasures, except for the ones they have already spoken of on fliers and whatnot. It is inside the museum to Sindarius Valles’s exploits as a hero of some small renown, because when one has eight houses one must make do, let us pour one out for the downtrodden, yes? Yes, of course. To get inside, you will need to bypass the lock and then ensure that no one is there to see exactly what it is you are up to. Are you looking for someone to perhaps run the most noble and brave of distractions for your first step on your hero’s journey of rescuing your father? “I helped someone rescue her father once,” he says, looking proudly to the ceiling. “What a fine day that was. …okay, I wasn’t exactly helping, nor was I there, and honestly I didn’t even know it was happening. But what a day it was!”
“That would be amazing! If we could get in and get out without anyone seeing us at all, that would help tremendously.”
Liga’s enthusiasm is contagious. Linnet’s not quite sure why she’s grinning so hard.
“Absolutely! As long as by ‘us’ you do not mean ‘everyone currently sitting at this table.’
“We fly at midnight! Which is now! And we are more jumping, in wide arcs. Well, you can fly.” He cocks his head and peers at Linnet. “Can you always fly? Do you always fly? Do you sometimes not fly? Do you have a way of differentiating these days? Do you decide one morning that This Is Fly Day? I have never asked myself these questions before, yet somehow it is all that I can think of.”
“I will be happy to explain, after we have executed Plan Move Fast And Break Things.” Linnet winks.
“Ah yes! A fine plan! She had excellent plan names.” Liga stares off again.
“For the record, flying is my default state when awake,” Linnet says. “I have to concentrate to remember to stay on the ground in polite company. Sitting and lying down do come naturally, though, and I have only ever woken up to find myself flying once or twice. Weird dreams.”
Twenty-five minutes later, Liga springs over the closed iron gate of the Valles Estate, sailing a good forty feet in the air with a shout of glee, the gold plates on the gate reading DEARICA VALLES on them, the former looking a touch gaudier and newer than the latter.
Getting past the gate is easier than expected, on account of it wasn’t actually locked, Bast finds.
From there, it’s a trip through the rolling fields to the museum building, listening to crickets, the rustling of wind, and the occasional crash in the distance.
“…should we be worried about those crashes?” Linnet is floating enough to keep her feet from brushing the grass, but not enough to be immediately noticed as weird.
Bast twitches faintly at the crashing sounds, but remains quiet.
“As long as they stay far away from where we’re going, I think we’ll be ok. Right?” Orrey adds after a moment.
The closest call comes when two moogles leave one of the buildings — the nicest smelling building, some freshly baked bread — and go running off to the west, neither sure what’s happening. You make the trip to the museum easily, and find that its front door, too, is unlocked.
“Okay, this is just eerie,” the sylph whispers.
The museum seems more to be a place to store really nice things, as there’s no rhyme or reason to the layout. Many ornate things, entirely too many painted screens, a library full of books that have never been read, and a lot of paintings that look expensive because they look old and bad, so there’s no reason anyone else would own them. Inside here, though, there is a locked door, down a hallway and down a flight of stairs to a storage room. The door is large, metal, and has a new combination lock on it. Down in the basement, you can’t hear any sounds from up above. If there’s a commotion, it’s out of range.
Bast breathes out an exasperated sigh, but does not comment further as he begins to examine the lock.
“Now what?” Orrey looks over Bast’s shoulder. “Try every combination possible?”
Linnet will rejoin you all when some progress has been made on the lock; in the meantime, she’s floating by the bookshelf and looking for interesting titles among the dust.
“Now we stay quiet and out of sight-” Bast looks pointedly over at Linnet “-and give me some time to see what can be done here.”
Orrey puts on his dubious face.
Orrey’s dubious face hasn’t faded yet when Bast pops the lock in record time.
“How…wow.” Orrey’s jaw drops.
Bast pushes the door open with a light touch and beckons you after him.
In Linnet’s professional estimation, this shelf is full of “books you buy to look good on a shelf and never intend to actually read.” Some of them appear to be actual blocks of wood with fancy leather-like covers on them. In mild disgust, she abandons the bookshelves and follows Bast.
Orrey follows him in, looking around for the books.
The vault, it seems, is where the Valles keep the good stuff.
The bookshelves draw Linnet and Orrey’s attention first, and there are some titles that jump out at them.
Architecture of the Alternan Empire, Third Era: Possibly the oldest book Linnet has ever seen, stored in a bag to keep moisture from getting into it.
A History of the Crystarium, a blue-covered book that appears to be faintly glowing.
Tucked into three separate shelves: Green Study, Vol. 1, The Fiendish Way of Fighting, and Padjal’s White Magery.
Bast checks that the door can be opened from the inside before easing it closed.
Orrey goes straight for the three, marking their previous locations, and carries them over to anything resembling a table.
Linnet pulls a notepad out of her pocket and scribbles down every title of potential interest. Paying special attention to Orrey’s three.
Bast’s eyes cover other things.
A map of Ducorde.
A map of Ducorde with some incredible errors, mountains where there are none, plains where there should be lakes, an abundance of sea monsters on the edges.
A portrait of Sindarius, wearing a remarkable golden crown, standing with King Jessamine Dravanor of Cardia, in the shadow of the Dragonmount.
A dozen beautiful swords.
Six jeweled daggers.
A dragon-winged spear.
A tonberry-sized harp paired with a viera-sized double-stringed harp.
A glimmering blue crystal under glass.
A miniature clockwork city.
A book wrapped in chains, inside of a locked glass cabinet, with a silver binding, and a title that just reads Alexander.
And a white oak lantern, unlit, in the exact center of the room.
Orrey works through the instructions, planting the fake passages as quickly as he can.
“Who’s Alexander?” Linnet doesn’t touch the book she’s supposed to be buying at auction tomorrow…yet. She gravitates toward the Crystarium history, though…
“Never heard of it. Him?”
Bast takes in the room with a wry smile, and heads over to grab the spear. With it firmly wedged against the door, to hold off unexpected visitors, he finally seems to relax, and examines the shinies in more detail.
Linnet takes down the Crystarium book and opens it.
Quickly passing over everything that’s too large to conceal, and more slowly over the blue gem, Bast takes a closer look at the clockwork city.
What can be said about the Crystarium, the crystal tower that appeared in the heart of Machanon without warning and remained for exactly a year before disappearing just as abruptly, that has not already been said? Much, for Alterna did their best to wipe it from history. However, records recovered in Saine speak to the magical impossibility that the Crystarium represented, and shadows of its breakthroughs remain in our society.
The clockwork city is moving, a beautiful little black and white thing, four pillars at the edges, little gears slowly turning, the tiniest puffs of steam occasionally rising.
As Orrey is finishing up Green Study, Vol. I, the vault door thumps fairly hard.
Then, a very faint and familiar: “Ow.”
Liga’s voice, stage-whisper-quiet: “Crime friends! Are you in there?”
Bast steps quickly over to the door and whispers “Yes. How are things out there?”
“Quiet here! Very eventful to the west! I believe my payment for training is inside, for it is not in the grand hall any longer!”
“A moment.” Bast quickly makes his way back to and pockets the blue crystal, then unspears the door to let Liga in.
Liga bounds in, shockingly silent.
He glances about the room, muses at the books for a moment, and then is drawn like a moth to a flame to the swords.
He absently grabs one of the daggers, and then takes one sword, then another, then another, then another, then all twelve.
“Okay, friends, I’m having a moral quandary. Do we take Kuylin seriously and help ourselves to something we assume we’ll have trouble leaving with after the auction, or do we take the auction seriously and wait to bid on it in public?” Just above a whisper, but Linnet should probably not have thought that out loud.
Liga looks over, holding an armful of stolen blades, and shrugs.
“You know, while we’re here…” After securing the door again, Bast takes a large nail and crouches below the portrait of Sindarius with the king. A couple of minutes later, large letters proclaiming “I SEE YOU, DEARICA” are scratched into the wall; Bast takes a step back, ponders the scene briefly, and returns with the remaining daggers, arranging them in a fan on the floor by the portrait, points out.
“We need to leave these books at the very least. I don’t really care one way or another about anything else,” Orrey says.
“Anyone interested in that one?” Bast points at Alexander.
Linnet looks incredibly skeptical at Bast, but she poaches the architecture book – being careful not to rustle it within the bag – and the crystarium book. Her satchel is getting kind of crowded. “Oh good gracious, yes, but if anything screams ‘hello, I am a trap’ in here, it’s that thing. And I don’t know how to defeat most magical traps. Books don’t tend to respond well to lightning and ice.”
“Best leave it alone, then. No telling what you’re getting into, with magical books.” Bast opens his toolbox and tries to see if he can make enough room to pack away the clockwork city. And possibly for a way to stop it for now.
“I’ll watch for it at the auction.”
Liga leans down over Orrey, swords now extending every which way off his person. “Will your father be safe now, my paternally loyal friend?”
“If I can get this finished…”
“If you need to rescue him, you have my sword, and my other sword, and my other sword, and my other sword, and — and this goes for some time. To find me, find what has been Forgotten. I will be there to aid you when we meet again.”
“You could use a few more arms,” Orrey points out, looking at the swords.
Liga laughs. “I could indeed! But for now, we flee the scene like poor actors on a hot summer night! Friends, are you prepared to abscond with your ill-gotten goods?”
“Find what has been Forgotten…you don’t have a calling card or something?” Linnet asks. “Calling shuriken?”
“I travel the world! The mail, it does not follow.”
“Point. Well, we shall call your name when next we find ourselves in significant injustice or distress! Or possibly just in need of some swordplay lessons.”
Orrey wraps up the reverse vandalism and replaces the books in their original locations.
“Hm. Either of you think this map is useful for anything?” Bast says, looking at the old map.
“Pretty sure Director Thornwell would be fascinated by it, if Orrey doesn’t have a use for it.” Linnet’s facial expression is equal measures of panicked discretion and pure bookworm longing.
“Sounds like you’d want to buy it rather than bring her something that’s officially gone missing, then.”
“It’s a map of the land before all the cataclysmic changes of the Shattering. Not sure how it could be useful,” Orrey says. “I mean, besides for research purposes, of course.”
“Okay, fine, let’s leave it. I still don’t think the auction’s going to go very well, though. But the director did say…” Linnet trails off mumbling to herself as she fixes the bookshelf so as little visible space is left as possible.
“Alright, time to go then.” To Liga: “Do you think they’re still busy?”
Liga cocks his head to the side. “My associate is wrapping up, and will be along in a moment. Leave opposite the chaos of our wake, and we will meet again!” He bounds away, practically singing to himself.
“Associate?” Orrey says. “This just gets crazier and crazier.”
“The more of them, the easier for us. Shall we?” Bast makes sure to put the spear back where he found it and relock the door on the way out.
“Let’s!”
“…opposite, right. Man, the stories of this are going to be epic in the morning.” Linnet slows for a moment as they follow Liga. “So, um, guys. Where are we staying tonight?”
Orrey lets out a shaky breath. “There’s no way I’m going to be able to sleep tonight.”
Liga waves you through the museum, hopping ahead to check things, then guiding you to the exit. After holding the door for you all to leave, he holds a finger to the front of his cloaked face, gestures for you all to hide, and then bounds up onto the roof in two effortless hops.
Linnet watches him leave. “I like that guy. When we’re done with all the shenanigans, I hope to make his acquaintance in closer detail.”
You hear the commotion approaching — shouting voices, clattering and crashing, almost a sort of… stampede, maybe.
And then the commotion rounds the corner, coming around the front of the grand hall, and you see the source.
Chocobos.
Linnet stares. “…what.”
At least twenty chocobos, freed from whatever pen they were in before, charging through the beautiful fields, barreling over the manicured gardens. With a cry of “WAHEY!” Liga leaps off of the roof into the middle of the stampeding horde and rides them off into the distance, perplexed guards wearily trailing.
Your path to exit is clear.
Orrey rises from his spot. “That’s our cue! Let’s go!”
“I don’t suppose we can pick the lock on the guest cottage?” Linnet ventures.
“You go right ahead and take a nap here if you want.” Bast shakes his head in disbelief. “I’m off to find somewhere else.”
“That’s what I was trying to get at…” Linnet takes the exit cue, still trying to rationalize despite the presence of entirely too many chocobos.
The Valles Estate is soon behind you, though in the distance, you can still hear the occasional wark of those beautiful flightless birds.
And with that…
End session.