The ruined shrine falls behind them. Ahead, the city edge crouches in soot and wet stone, and the crumbling library looms with black windows like blind eyes. The Bard slows at a broken archway, listening.
The Bard
If Wrye built your curse, he left a paper trail. He always does, if you know where to look.
He slips inside, then waves Madd One toward a narrow side door half-hidden by ivy and ash. A cracked seal of wax clings to the frame, stamped with a courtly crest.
Madd One
The seal is official, not local.
The Bard
That mark? It matches the records he used to bury names, witnesses, and warnings. If your curse is his trap, this place may show why you were chosen.
Inside, dust hangs in slanted light. A desk lies overturned, and on its back a ledger page has been pinned open by a knife, the inked heading still legible: Testimony Index.
The Bard
There. He is not just hiding crimes. He is arranging mouths, eyes, and silence. Find your name in his hand, and we find the shape of the snare.
“I search the testimony index for my name”
SUCCESS (Great Reasoning, rolled +1)
Madd One runs a finger down the index page. The ink is cramped, alphabetized, and ruthless, with names crossed, copied, and refiled like evidence in a vault.
Madd One
His name is entered by hand. Not hidden, tracked.
There it is, under a false heading in the margin, then again in the main list. Severin Wrye has stitched Madd One into a set of witness notes, each line tagged with dates and seals.
The Bard
He keeps duplicates. When one record vanishes, another survives.
The Bard leans in, relief sharpening into grim satisfaction as he points to a string of locations copied beside the entries, a court archive, a counting house, and a private chapel in the ash district.
The Bard
That chapel is new. Fresh hand. Fresh wax. If Wrye is moving papers, he may still be moving himself.
Outside, bootsteps scrape near the street, and the cracked door seal flashes in the dusk as someone passes the archway.
The Bard lowers his voice, keeping one hand on the ledger, waiting for Madd One to decide whether to copy the lead or vanish before the patrol turns back.
✓ Quest Accepted
Secure a lead on Severin Wrye’s location
“I'll memorize the chapel's location and douse the lantern to hide us.”
SUCCESS (Great Reasoning, rolled +0)
Madd One folds the chapel lead into memory, fixing it against the rhythm of the page and the smell of dust. The location settles in him cleanly, with the ash district and its fresh wax mark tied together.
Then he reaches for the lantern and pinches out the flame. Darkness swallows the desk in one soft breath.
The Bard
Good. Keep still.
The Bard eases his hand off the ledger knife and tilts his head toward the doorway, listening as the patrol's boots pass on.
The Bard
We have it, then. The chapel is our trail.
He draws back a fraction, relief still visible beneath the strain, while the cracked seal on the door holds the street light at a thin seam.
Outside, the footsteps slow. A shadow pauses beyond the archway, and both men have to choose whether to stay buried in the dark or move before the watcher looks in.
Quest Complete
Secure a lead on Severin Wrye’s location