Kemperbad clung to the cliff-face like a chandelier of stone and slate, its lifts creaking over the Reik where the Styr spilled its colder heart. Smoke and mist braided above the docks; coin-talk and rumor rose with them. Their names—whispered of late among merchants and lesser lords—bought them warm brandy and cautious smiles, but another name stained the table between them: Etelka Herzen. The memory of a velvet-clad beauty showing serpent’s eyes beneath a glamour still rasped at their nerves. The trail, thin as a fishbone, pointed upriver and into the Barren Hills.
They measured distance against time, grain against hunger. To push a hull against the Styr was to wrestle a living thing—tack for a breath, then oars until the shoulders shook. The road along the gorge ran quicker under hooves. Ten days of provisions was what Etelka had purchased; ten days is a math problem with a blade at the end. But Felrick’s ruined eyes needed stillness more than the Styr needed muscle. And it was not in the city’s interest—nor their own—to chase after exhaustion. Better to be the shadow already waiting when the quarry returned.
They cast their net the way true riverfolk do: with coin and a convincingly dull story. Thindruk, all courtly varnish over iron, and Wanda, stern and steady, drifted to the north gate where the gorge road emptied tired travelers into the cliff-top. There, two watchmen—Rolf and Alberman—leaned into their boredom like men in a long winter. Thindruk set a shilling a day in each hand, six days paid forward, and promised a crown besides if the “headstrong noblewoman” reappeared. Discretion, he added, was a pricier virtue than speech. Wanda’s gaze made it clear she would know if the price was not honored. Rolf swallowed the lesson and the coin both.
Down at the water’s hem, they bought other eyes. The liftman, who hauled strangers up into Kemperbad’s good graces; the harbormaster, who knew which keels wore honest ballast and which wore knives; stevedores who noticed what captains pretended not to—weighed and purchased like any other good. Three crowns bound a week’s worth of “happen to sees” and “by the bys.” There would be no boat unloading at the cliff without someone thinking of them. No barge gliding in the dusk without a whisper running uphill to the Happy Goat.
Days unspooled. Felrick slept and blinked, and each morning the light argued a little harder with the damage behind his bandage until, by the sixth day, it won. Qavitrae and Wanda worked letters again in the quiet hours, ink smearing a finger here and there, stubborn words surrendering at last. Thindruk traded small luxuries for larger truths among the merchants: Karl-Franz’s edicts turning talk sour; rumors of Talabecland and Ostland gathering iron at their borders; the Empire’s head seemingly turned from quarrels it once would have crushed. The city felt like a crowded hall where a song has gone off-key and the fiddler won’t admit it.
Rolf arrived sweating, breathless, right through the door of the Goat. “Fifteen minutes past,” he said, and all the quiet they had grown used to snapped like a rope. Etelka had crossed the north gate astride a horse; with her came a dark-haired gentleman of later years under a wide-brimmed leather hat, a hireling in mail with his hand near his sword, and two porters—one wrapped ragged with bandage. One of their mounts had carried two riders; their wagon rode light, nearly empty of the food that had once justified its wheels. They had told the gate they would linger a night or two within the city.
Thindruk laid two crowns in Rolf’s palm—one for the promised report, one named for Alberman with a look that said the name would be checked. Rolf’s fingers cinched around both, his eyes bright with the kind of luck that makes a man forget friends. “Mum’s the word,” he said, and fled, already inventing the story Alberman would hear.
They went to the Golden Bull because it was the sort of place people with lace collars and secrets preferred. In the yard, a stable-boy with straw in his hair pointed them to the new beasts. There the old grey mare lifted lips over strong teeth and breathed at them through warm velvet. Daisy, by any other name—trusty eyes that remembered better masters. A few coins made the boy thoughtful; twenty minutes ago, the lady and the gentleman had gone inside.
The Golden Bull had the polished calm of money well tucked away. A high common room hummed softly; above it, a gallery of private dining doors ran along the second floor; higher still the rooms where, with enough coin, one could sleep without sharing a wall with a drunk’s song. Qavitrae kept to a shadowed corner with the patience of a snare set. Nora, restless as a blade that wanted work, settled herself on a stool directly before a would-be bard tuning a lute near the hearth, daring him with her stare to prove he knew more than three chords. Wanda drifted by with beers, set one at the bard’s elbow, one at Nora’s, and offered a clink of copper to oil the man’s courage. He launched into Sigmar’s thunder over the greenskins, and the old tale filled the rafters while the true hunt began above.
Thindruk watched the stair. Wine and roasted meats went up to a door on the second floor; laughter and lamplight came out later, softened at the edges. Etelka emerged with the leather-hatted gentleman at her side. She had the relaxed air of someone whose plans were proceeding. He had scraped himself clean in the interim, the darkness at his jaw newly gone. Together they climbed toward the third and fourth floors, where wine turns to sleep.
The dwarf rose as though to stretch his legs, thanked no one, and drifted upstairs in the wake of their passing with all the natural dignity of a man headed for his own featherbed. He paused at the balustrade at just the right moment to fuss at a nonexistent crease in his coat, let two servants bustle by, and then moved where the walls thinned with secrets. When he returned, he brought no paper, no stolen keys—only certainty: two rooms, adjacent, on the fourth floor. Separate doors. Shared wall.
They gathered the thread at the edge of the common room, speaking little, eyes saying more. Not here, their looks agreed. Not in a city that had become, grudgingly and against all good sense, something like home. The law up here wore cleaner boots than river law, and they would not test its appetite for noble blood on a polished floor.
So the net remained: the liftman waiting for a nod to pull the line early, the harbormaster’s men paid to find tongues even in the rain, Rolf and Alberman marking the north gate’s trickle, a boy at the Golden Bull’s yard ready to run at the first jingle that meant saddles tightened. They would let Etelka walk out into the thin air between cliff and gorge, or drift onto the Reik where the fog keeps secrets, and they would take her there—on river plank or roadside earth—where Kemperbad’s walls could not hear the business done. In the meantime, the dwarf took a room, the elf sharpened patience against the back of her teeth, the bailiff counted the ways a crown could close a mouth, the athlete smothered her urge to move now, and the bounty hunter—eyes whole again—stared into the middle distance and measured a shot he had not yet taken.
Evening thickened. Upstairs, two strangers slept with a wall between them. Downstairs, stories of old wars filled the firelight while another, smaller war coiled itself, quiet and ready, in the shadows around the door.
Travel/route realities discussed and quantified: Boat vs. horse capability and constraints: Health status & timing: Strategic pivot (“Zero Effect” style plan adapted in-world): Rather than chase, the party chose to wire Kemperbad and wait for Etelka’s return—watch both avenues: They resolved not to load cargo, preserving speed/manoeuvrability in case of boat-to-boat conflict. They discussed gear (e.g., grappling hooks, crossbows, gangplank options) for future boarding, but no specific purchases were recorded at this point. Gate-watch arrangement (execution and rolls): Docks/lift surveillance arrangement: Six days elapse (activities and setting color gleaned in-world): Felrick rests to recover. Wanda continues reading lessons with help from Qavitrae and Thindruk. Thindruk networks with merchants, learning current political talk: On the sixth day, Felrick’s sight returns. The sighting (Rolf’s report at the Happy Goat): Timing: About 15 minutes prior to Rolf’s arrival. Party composition seen entering by the north gate: Stated intent at the gate: Stay in Kemperbad briefly (perhaps one or two nights) before departing. Payment and read on Rolf: Immediate response & locating Etelka’s lodgings: The party arms/prepares; they decide to find where Etelka is staying without confronting her inside city limits. Approach: Check stables first (fewer inns in Kemperbad have stables due to the cliff-city layout). At the Golden Bull: Inside the Golden Bull (surveillance and observations): The Golden Bull is upscale with a public common room, private dining rooms (2nd floor), and guest rooms (3rd–4th floors). Thindruk takes a room and asks the tavern keeper to direct courtly conversation his way, then lounges in the common room with companions. A storyteller tunes a lute and begins performing historical tales (e.g., Sigmar Heldenhammer vs. greenskins in Thunderstone Valley). Spotting the targets (Awareness results and timing): Awareness checks: Dinner window: Staff bring trays of food and wine; the pair dine leisurely. After 8:00 PM (bell noted), Etelka and the older man exit, in good spirits, and head upstairs toward the guest rooms. Learning the room locations (shadowing roll and result): Goal: Identify which rooms they occupy without causing a scene. Method: Disguise (nonchalant presence on the floor) at easy difficulty. Result: 01 (critical success)—Thindruk shadows casually and learns: Operational stance going forward: The group intends not to kill or confront within Kemperbad. They plan to monitor departures via their gate and dock/lift informants and to act when Etelka leaves. Corruption adjudication (mechanical, in-world effect): The GM assigns 1 Corruption to all who engaged in bribery (undermining civic integrity). Chaos manifestation check: Players rolled as per rules (gain a Chaos point on a 1). Reward points:Session Notes