Chapter One: The Nosos Question

[Pamela]

Lions... Molly filed the name away. The term meant nothing to her but then there hadn't been an army either in the Zherisia she had known. The only benefit of being an island in the Mists was the lack of aggressive neighbours.

She bridled at Patterson's conclusion. “Who does?” she muttered. She bitterly accepted that a lot of people had to be benefiting from the situation but she had lived in Blackchapel too long to believe it was a real majority. Mircea had said the Zherisians hadn't starved to death but she'd seen first-hand hunger cut a swathe through Blackchapel in the guises of disease and violence. People were capable of putting up with a lot if they believed there was no alternative.

If the government wins it's because there is no real alternative. Nobody seems to be publicly speaking on behalf of the resistance. Why?

Why did the resistance have to go underground at all? What was so illegal about their cause? And why would they still have respected Reggie if they were against what he stood for?

She was glad to lay aside the conundrum at Francis' promise. She nodded, murmurming her thanks in a tight voice, listening to his summary of the situation and Pietro's tacit agreement. She wasn't content to leave Paridon be but she also accepted it was an irrational desire.

She would talk to Jamie to see what he might suggest.

“Port-a-Lucine,” she agreed.

[Pamela]

“I apologise if I have put a damper on the conversation,” Patterson said, “For I have certainly appreciated your enthusiasm. We all could use a shot of it here – and in Zherisia.”

He inclined his head at the trio. “I also do not mean to underestimate you in any way. You were able to bring down the Kingfuhrer of Falkovnia after all and have the respect of many leaders on the Core. You're both resourceful and popular – I have little doubt that you will be able to produce great things here.”

He got up and produced the stick of chalk. “While I would have liked the chance to talk a little longer, this is probably a good point to get going. If you could open the umbrella? Thank you...”

They appeared in a small shack which was highly cramped between their numbers and a small table and chair. “Sorry about this – not much longer,” Patterson remarked as he squeezed towards the window then lightly tapped it. “Go just outside to your right...”

A burly, suspicious man with nightstick and pistol opened the door, pausing to pick up the key he had just dropped. “Pier Three,” he muttered as he retrieved it and began to grumble, cursing his clumsiness.

Patterson silently gestured to their destination two hundred metres away. There was still as much traffic as at their arrival. It took careful manoeuvring to walk to their ship; even then a couple of accidental brushes due to missteps were afforded no more than a momentary puzzlement. The Zherisian guards were of course given wide berth.

As they approached their ship, Pietro's impostor could be seen smoking above. Patterson reached into his pockets once more; this time he revealed a crumpled piece of paper and rubbed it between his fingers. The smoker raised his head as if hearing something and nodded his head.

They boarded the ship and followed the smoker who made his way below deck. They entered a room which contained the other impostors who had laid aside their outer clothing.

"Pietro" took off the investigator's coat. “Apologies about the cigarettes – I couldn't resist.” The other two approached to swap cloak and coat with Molly and Francis. A search of the pockets found most contents present; any flasks were no longer sloshing.

The young man continued. “They came to our rooms, claiming to be customs, asking about the purpose of our visit. That was it for us at least.”

“I'll check on Mircea when we get back – many thanks, Albert,” Patterson replied. “Do you mind waiting outside...?”

The impostors were obviously curious but presented no argument or questions. The young woman took the umbrella; a few steps and they were out of sight and inaudible.

Patterson closed the door behind them and turned back to the trio. “Thank you again for coming; it truly has been good to see you all again.”

[eocine]

That thirty years is starting to look more and more like a valid use of the time... mused the half-elf to himself as they suddenly found themselves in the docks area. Though given how little exercise I get anyway it would probably be best not to cut down quite so hugely on the amount of walking that I do.

The cigarette case returned to Pietro brought nothing other than a slight grin. Frankly he struggled to begrudge anyone taking a small piece of pleasure in a place such as Nosos. Though admittedly such fine sentiments came more easily given that he was leaving the place.

And given that he still had a packet hidden away in his case.

“Keep the coat”, said Pietro, “it looks better on you than it does on me.”

Once they had gone he turned to Patterson, “Useful allies Doctor”, not stable perhaps, but very, very useful.

He reached out and clasped the man's hand, “let's try and ensure that it's less than fifteen years before our next meeting.”

[Pamela]

Albert's eyes widened at the offer. He turned to Patterson for guidance, who merely shrugged. “Thank you, sir...” He quickly slipped it on and did up the buttons, fingers stroking the material when done with their task.

The other two made no attempt at hiding the pleas written across their faces...

“Useful and brave.” Patterson heartily returned the handshake with a look of mock horror. “Please! Not unless you kill another tyrant.”

[Pamela]

Molly mentally cursed her clumsiness as she yet again stepped too close to a dockworker. She released her clenched fists, unable to get used to the idea that they truly were unseen by so many around them. It was this very wariness which had caused her to stare too long and not move quickly enough. No more meetings like this – not ones where I can't come properly armed, she promised herself, shoulders tensed against any potential hail of bullets.

She sighed with relief when they first boarded the ship and more loudly when they reached one of their rooms. Between this and the fact she wasn't a smoker or carrying a flask, she was more than happy to copy Pietro's gesture, kicking herself that she hadn't thought of it. Quickly checking that she hadn't left anything valuable in them, she returned her cloak.

If the guards did go to Mircea's who did they talk to? Him or...? Unwilling to entertain the possible answer, she turned to Patterson, offering her hand a little less grudgingly. “It has been an honour, thank you. While we may not meet you when we next come to Nosos, I promise you'll know we were here.”

[Castamir]

Francis nodded in greeting to his decoy and following the lead of his companions waved his hand when the fellow made to remove his coat.

"Keep the coat sir." He tapped at some of the seams while his spoke, "However you should be aware that sewn into the seams here, here, here and here, are some lockpicks. I like to be prepared and if you can use them they will help you to be prepared too."

He shook the man's hand and then shook Patterson's hand, laughing at the quip about slaying dictators.

"The problem with slaying world threatening dictators is that the bar has been set rather high." he added, eyebrow raised, "It does help you get better tables in restaurants though."

"Keep safe Dr Patterson."

[Pamela]

“Francis” smiled then widened his eyes at the captain. “Oh thank you, sir,” he exclaimed as Patterson's smile froze in place. “I'm sure I can find some way to u – help the cause!” The other two began to nonchalantly pat at their own acquisitions, still doing so when they disappeared from sight.

“If better tables are all that have been offered, I think you need not care about that bar at all,” the doctor said with a smile. “Still if that is all that it will take, I can even throw in a night's rooms at the Parkside Hotel for all of you, being a friend and all...”

Once more he graciously accepted Molly's hand but merely held it between his own. “I would say I'd keep you to that promise, Lady Saint, but I know you all well enough to know that unnecessary. Safe journeys until then.”

Patterson approached Francis for the final farewell. “You too, Captain Blackblade. Good night and good luck.”

When he opened the door and took one step out, he disappeared from sight, brought under the sphere of invisibility. A moment later the door seemed to close on its own.