The Guilded Cage, Ch 5
That Nagging Question

There was something magical about spring in Ciral's mind.  After months of sleeping beneath three blankets (and in the arms of a big Bear Beast-kin) just to avoid shivering it was almost a relief to awaken due to being too warm.  Many people thought that being at the top of his game as a gladiator meant that Ciral could afford the finest things in life but they didn't realize that the long-term prospects for a gladiator meant that doing so would leave him destitute later in life, so he lived well beneath his means.

Yawning, the Human carefully extracted himself from the loose grip of his still-sleeping husband, leaving the Bear to continue snoring as loud as ever.  Ciral smiled to himself; ever since they were little everything that Samuel did was loud so why would sleeping be any different.  It had taken the man weeks to grow accustomed to the noise created by his partner but, after so many years, it was just another sweet affectation that Ciral had come to love about Samuel.

Wasting no more time than it took to get dressed, Ciral shielded himself against the brisk temperature of the stone halls, grabbing a torch off the wall, not so much for light, but for warmth.  It wasn't lit, of course, but a quick snap and a word of power over the flammable tip fixed that issue.  Heading to his study, he realized he could easily have done the same thing to the fireplace, but that would have deprived him of the heat on the way.  Arriving at the small-but-serviceable room, he gestured to a stack of wood, which quickly filled up the hearth by itself (plus tinder), and he moved over to hold the torch in place until a fire had started; one gesture later and the torch was extinguished.

Although Ciral was a practitioner of magic, his skills were only partially learned by study; unlike many members of the Acane Order, he had a natural affinity for some kinds of casting and so he merely supplemented that knowledge with books and research.  He spent every morning in his study to familiarize himself with spells he didn't know by heart, but he also used that time to focus on other less magic-focused questions and, after encountering a particularly unpleasant murder scene in the open outside the entrance to the Arena he needed answers.

A Dwarven gladiator named Torak Axeman in the mid-tier league had been found dead just before the arena opened for the day.  While it wasn't entirely uncommon for low tier gladiators to run afoul of creditors or bookies, few of those deaths were displayed in so public a place, and never in quite the manner as Torak, who had been laying face-down in a pool of his own blood, the tip of a blade visible emerging from his back.  The Dwarf had been run through by a sword and, if the investigation was to be believed, it was his own weapon.

Ciral, having a free pass to and from the arena due to his champion status meant that the city watch gave hinm free reign.  He was able to get close enough to the body to look it over before a Lawgiver could arrive and send him along.  While any gladiator dead outside the arena in the open would have been enough to catch anyone's attention, Ciral had noticed that Torak had been clutching the blade's handle and that his hand had been secured to it by some kind of adhesive.  The Human was only passingly familiar with Old Kingdom mythos, but it sounded eerily like an old tale about Waha the Trickster god and the time he convinced an aggressor to kill himself with his own weapon.

Any isolated instance of a murder presented as a suicide could easily have conjured up numerous conjectures that didn't appeal to the old sensibilities of an all-but-extinct religon, but in the case of the murdered Dwarf the situation wasn't so isolated.  Thanks to Ciral's connections within the government and the guards, feelers he'd sent out for more details came back with a startling realization: Torak wasn't the only individual to have been slain in a way reminiscent of the old legends.  There had been, in fact, five murders, each following a different story of Waha the Trickster god.

In addition to Torak, there were also two Elves; one was stuck half-way through a wall in the trade district  and the other was an Elven artisan who had somehow found himself in the slums and was immolated quite cleanly in an alleyway with nothing but ash and a perfectly circular char mark surrounding it on the pavement.  Then there was a Human who had eaten himself; Ciral didn't even want to imagine what that must have looked like, and another Human who had been killed by strange growths on his body.  All five deaths followed the same theme of the stories of the Beast-Kin Coyote deity.

The champion was neither an investigator nor a genius in the ways of mystery solving, but there was one resource he did have at his disposal in his attempt to figure out why a gladiator was murdered.  Moving to a small stone basin, Ciral poured a pitcher of water into it, then added a pinch of powdered gemstone.  Speaking a short incantation over it he waited until the image of a black-haired elven beauty appeared.  She looked out of the scrying pool directly at him before speaking in Elvish. "What is it, Ciral?  Classes will begin soon."

One of his classmates from over a decade past, Serinae had always been flawless in her study and understanding of magical theory but she had never been a very competent caster.  Despite being an Elf and he a Human, Ciral had quickly surpassed her in almost every application of magic.  Rather than gloat, he elected to spend time tutoring her.  She was desperate enough and had just enough skill to be able to pass her required tests-- with his help, of course.  Smiling, he thought for the dozenth time that it was nice to have people who owed him favors.  He stated his case in Elven as well, preferring not to antagonize such an important contact. "This won't take long, Instructor Oakbough... I just have questions about the investigation into the death of one of my colleagues-- the Dwarf found dead outside the Arena two days past."

Her eyes narrowed; few people knew that Serinae had connections with the Lawgivers and, among those who did, fewer still knew that she was enough of a busy-body to constantly peer into their affairs.  She was also smart enough to know that Ciral wouldn't accept being brushed off with feigned ignorance. "Do you want the official stance being made public tomorrow, or are you after the--"

He gave her his widest, most friendly smile. "The real stance they're taking, if you please."

Serinae's usually stoic demeanor broke for just a moment, revealing that she had a secret that she sorely wished to share with somebody.  Ciral had apparently reached out at just the right time.  Glancing to her left, then to her right, the Elven woman's face drew closer to the scrying censor as she spoke in a whisper. "The Governor asked about the Waygate."

The impact of the statement caused all of air to leave Ciral's lungs and it was all he could do to maintain his composure; he readily understood why that was such big news.  The Waygate was the singular mode of transportation which would allow the Holy Empire to connect instantaneously with St Almar.  It was said in the past it was used to secure St Almar after the great battle with the kingdom which had been there before the Elves, and again to provide supplies for the repairs, renovations and build outs completed by the Elves once peace had been forged, but the thought of it opening again after centuries seemed almost unbelievable.  The Human's imagination started to run wild with the thought of thousands of Holy Empire troops pouring into the city to address a handful of murders but he quickly squelched that line of thinking as excessive and unreasonable.  "Why would he ask about that?"

Serinae maintained a hushed tone as she answered. "He probably just wants to know it's an option... there's no way he'd ask the Emperor for support over something like this.  I'm sure you're aware by now that the Lawgivers think that Torak Axeman's death was related to others around town... ones that may or may not have been done in homage to stories telling of the Beast Kin god Waha.  Even if the trickster cult is rising up these are just a few isolated killings-- surely he'll have the Lawgivers on the task in no time.  Between them, the Wardens, and the Inquisitors there's little reason to be worried."

It sounded as if she were trying to convince herself of that.  He knew that she also knew that the Governor wouldn't just 'idly' ask about such an ancient relic unless there were more to the story. He also knew she wasn't one to casually gossip, nor would she purposefully mislead him.  That left him with more questions than when he started.  "And the murders?"

She shrugged, her tone relaxing some as the volume returned to her voice.  "To be investigated by the Lawgivers and, where necessary, to involve the Inquisition.  Based on what I've heard they plan to tug on a number of strings related to the Trickster God until something comes of it."

Ciral smirked; knowing what he knew about Waha and his followers, if something unraveled it would likely be something embarrassing for those in charge.  He didn't say anything of the sort, of course, preferring to hold his own council on those matters.  "Alright... go tend to your class, Instructor Oakbough.  Thank you for your time this morning."

She didn't miss a beat. "Usually when you say your goodbyes so quickly you're up to something, Ciral--just what are you--?"

He quickly dismissed the scrying with a succinct "Emperor's blessing to you, Serinae!"

The answers he received from his contact were hardly what he was expecting and that frustrated him even further.  Ciral didn't much care for being in the dark and he knew that he'd have to continue digging to uncover the little tidbits of information that hadn't seen the light of day.  Whether the Lawgivers knew more than they were letting on or were, in fact, just as clueless as he, the champion didn't like the likely end result of murders in St Almar taking on the form of an old tale from an all-but-lost religion.

All of that would have to wait, of course, since he had other commitments for the day.  Ciral was going to meet some other influential individuals at an important gathering in the evening and he would be able to better use his time preparing for that.  Plus, he reminded himself, The Assembly was often privy to information and schemes that other larger organizations were not.  He had enough good will with the individuals in charge of The Assembly that he was confident he would be able to glean more info from them, and he had just over 12 hours to go.  He would be able to be patient with the understanding that he would have his answers that evening.