The villager in the patched brown cloak slams into the nearest bodies and breaks for the lane. Heads snap after him, and the room’s doubt turns sharp again.
The Peasant Rebel
He’s fleeing, stop him!
Vanier stands at the threshold, arm aching, while the crowd shudders between chase and fear. The forged relic is still in reach, but now the suspect is too.
The Hooded Figure
There. He knows who made it, or who paid for it.
A few villagers lunge after the runner, but others recoil, wary of another false turn. The scriptorium becomes a split blade, one edge hunting the man, the other guarding the proof.
The Peasant Rebel
If he gets away, the lie stays hidden.
Outside, the fugitive’s boots slap the stones, vanishing toward the dark lane. Inside, the crowd waits for Vanier to decide whether the hunt or the order comes first.
✓ Quest Accepted
Interrogate the accused villager
“I command the remaining villagers to block the lane and trap the fugitive.”
SUCCESS (Fair Oratory, rolled +2)
Vanier lifts his voice over the churn of frightened villagers, and the lane suddenly matters more than the room. He orders them to bar the way, pin the runner between stone and door, and no one rushes alone.
The nearest men hesitate, then move. One snatches up a bench leg, another lunges for the doorway, and the split crowd starts to act like a net instead of a mob.
The Peasant Rebel
You heard him, shut the lane!
The Hooded Figure
Do it now, before he reaches the dark.
Outside, boots scrape hard on the stones, then stumble. The fugitive finds his path narrowing as faces and arms close in from both ends.
Vanier Justicar
The lane is being sealed.
The accused man is forced back into view at the threshold, breathing raggedly, hem snagged on a splintered cart rail. The crowd has not caught him yet, but the ring around him is tightening fast.
“I seize the accused villager”
SUCCESS (Good Strength, rolled -2)
Vanier drives forward from the threshold and clamps both hands on the accused villager’s sleeve and shoulder. The man jerks once, then stops as the grip holds.
Vanier Justicar
He is caught.
The fugitive stumbles against the doorframe, trapped between Vanier and the press of bodies behind him. One boot skids on loose straw, and he cannot force a gap.
The Accused Villager
Let go, I did not make it, I only carried it!
His cry draws every eye in the lane. The nearby villagers recoil, and the split crowd hangs on the edge of either seizing him or listening.
The Hooded Figure
Then speak plain, before they decide for you.
Vanier keeps hold of the man, but the strain jars his wounded forearm and a dark line of blood spreads beneath his sleeve. The fugitive’s breath comes fast, and the next answer could name the hand behind the fraud, or send the lane into chaos.
“I make him name the relic's creator”
FAILURE (Fair Willpower, rolled -1)
Vanier tightens his grip and leans in close enough to cut off the man’s excuses. The accused villager’s eyes flick from Vanier’s bloodied sleeve to the lane beyond, measuring the crowd’s patience.
Vanier Justicar
Name who made the relic.
The threat lands, but the villager swallows hard and shakes his head. Fear seals his mouth, though not before he glances toward the scriptorium wall and the darker alleys beyond it.
The Accused Villager
I was paid to carry it, that is all. I never saw the maker.
His answer falters at the end. The Hooded Figure’s stillness breaks, just enough to show recognition in the set of his shoulders.
The Hooded Figure
Paid by whom? Speak that much, if you mean to live through the hour.
The accused villager flinches at the hooded man’s tone, and his gaze drops to a patch of grime on the wall where a wax seal might have been pressed. Vanier catches the look, and the clue hangs there, plain enough to follow.
He will not name the creator yet, but he has betrayed a place, or a hand, and the lane waits on Vanier’s next move.
