The Enemy Within (WHF Witch Hunter Quest)

XV - The Hunt Begins

The next morning, Josef proves himself a saint among men by providing a hearty breakfast of fresh bread and hot sausages without even being asked. The heavily watered ale is likewise welcome, for having seen the sewers of Bögenhafen up close it will be some time yet before you trust anything from the river or the average well, and together with the boathands and Max you break your fast in companionable ease.

"Josef," you say as you tear off a strip of the bread, "You've made the journey to Bögenhafen more than once before. What can you tell me about the local authorities?"

"Ah, well, Bögenhafen's always been a bit odd," your elder mumbles through a mouthful of sausage, "Almost a free town, but not quite, if you follow? Old Graf Wilhelm's in charge, but most everything is run by the town council. Can't remember exactly how they pick who's on it, but I know most of the guilds get one seat each, plus the High Priest of Sigmar, and then the merchant's guild get eight."

You nod thoughtfully, for this matches what you know of most free towns. Only the richest and most self-sufficient of towns earn a charter from the Emperor, and even then it usually requires some persuasive argument to convince the sovereign to waive their dues to the local nobility. Merchants, being rich and well connected, almost invariably end up in positions of prominence in those few towns that manage to slip the net.

"Who would you say are most prominent among the merchants?" you ask, thinking of the silk handkerchief in your pocket, "I assume most are family concerns."

"Aye, there's a score or more of trading concerns here, but the real power goes to the four biggest families," Josef nods gamely, "That'd be Haagen, Ruggbroder, Steinhäger and Teugen. Let's see… the Haagen are an old Westerlands family, specialists in luxury goods and rarer imports. They're the ones that bought the wine that I came here with, though mostly they use their own chartered ships. Then there's the Ruggbroder, who mostly do bulk imports and grain, nothing fancy or daring but always steady enough to keep them in the upper ranks."

"Sigmar's sweaty cock, old man, we don't care about what they sell," Max Ernst groans, cradling his head as he fights through the hangover yesterday's drinking dealt him. He catches your frozen glare and winces, waving a hand in apologies. "Right, yeah, no blasphemy, my bad. Look, you want to talk Haagen and Ruggbroder, you really want to talk about the stevedores and teamsters. Each family backs one of the guilds, and when one gets a bit far ahead, the other sends around some proper bastards with boat hooks to level the scale a bit. Half the corpses that wind up in the Bögen come from their infighting, way I hear it."

"I…see," you say with a frown, and though you'll not go so far as to critique a fellow noble in front of his lessers, you really have to wonder what the hell Graf Saponatheim is playing at. Open gang warfare in the streets of one of his domains is exactly the sort of thing a responsible nobleman is supposed to crack down on, else why have the rank at all. "You didn't think to mention it, Josef?"

"Eh, cost of doing business," the old riverman says with a shrug, "You sell in Bögenhafen, you gotta watch for the stevedores and teamsters. You sell in Altdorf, you watch for the Fish and the Hooks. Same deal."

"The Fish have a branch out here, too, call themselves Blackpikes," Max interjects once more, pausing to drain his mug of watered ale, "Mostly on the north side of town, across the water. Right proper bastards too, I hear."

"You seem to have heard a great deal in one night of drinking," you observe, mildly approving. The information is not directly relevant to your work just yet, you think, but having someone in your service able to so readily turn up information on the lowlifes of a given area will likely stand you in good stead. "Continue, Josef. You've told us of two merchant families - what of the others?"

"Ah, well, the Steinhägers are what you'd call the 'second family' of the town," Josef nods, gesturing vaguely at the distant mountains with a hand full of bread and sausage, "Lots of dwarf contracts, and they've a tight grip over shipping to and from all the other mountain towns and mines further south. Coal and metal goes one way, food and supplies the other, that sort of thing."

You think of the monogrammed handkerchief, and the initials it bears. There is no guarantee that it belongs to a Steinhäger, of course, but they are the only prominent family in town with a surname that begins with S. Unless, of course, the Graf von Saponatheim has a relative or two in the area. "And the first?"

"That'd be the Teugen," Josef grins at you, revealing a mouthful of half-eaten breakfast that makes you wince, "They do a bit of everything, everywhere, and make more money than any other two families put together in the process. Good friends with nobles from here to Nuln, way I hear it, even if they've never held a title themselves."

You nod, entirely unsurprised. When a young noble needs funds or an aspiring socialite wants something that will make a splash in the society papers, there are few groups better positioned to provide them than a well connected merchant clan, nor better placed to collect a return on their investment in time. You doubt any of those agreements were ever formalised or written down, but it seems like the Teugen have done well out of them even so. You'll need to be wary before you cross them, lest some of their beneficiaries cause you problems in the future long after you've left this town behind.

"Well, you got your rundown," Max grunts, rubbing blearily at his bloodshot eyes, "What're we doing today? And don't think about leaving me behind again. I'm going to earn that silver."

"I've a lead that I wish to follow up on in the artisan's district," you say vaguely, "and after that… the temple, I think. It is time I informed the local high priest of my presence and purpose."

-/-

The headquarters of the Metalworkers Guild is a surprisingly quiet and peaceful place, a quiet little pocket of town where deals can be struck and contracts negotiated on behalf of Bögenhafen's dozens of individual blacksmiths, armourers and jewellers. A great metal griffon statue stands outside the entrance, the latest in what you are assured is a long line of masterworks, each produced and installed by the new Guildmaster upon taking up the post. The current incumbent is a man by the name of Devrich Schweisser, and he is only too happy to make room in his schedule for a quick interview when you walk through his guildhouse's door.

Markus makes an average (+20) charm test. Skill is 71, roll is 29, astounding success.

A few polite enquiries threaded throughout a friendly conversation is enough to secure you the information you are looking for. Schweisser does indeed recall an order that matches what you are looking for - a hollow copper ring, three yards in diameter, was forged by special order for the Steinhäger family and delivered to their offices just over a year ago. Oddly enough, no formal record of the order exists in the guild's books, but Schweisser just shrugs off your questions on that score; apparently the old archive room sprung a leak during one of the winter storms last season, and a considerable quantity of commercial records were lost as a result.

You have your suspicions on that score, but there's not much point in pursuing them right now. What matters is that Schweisser's personal testimony will likely be needed for any airtight trial, and to that end you make sure to leave him with a good impression by asking after his guild's other work and expressing appropriate (if understated) approval. Apparently they have recently been able to secure a contract to provide the armour for the new state regiment that Graf von Saponatheim intends to raise, which the guildmaster expects to keep his peers well funded for the next year or more.

You thank the guildmaster for his cooperation and take your leave, but on your way out you are surprised to see a familiar face speaking with one of the junior metalsmiths. Spätin, the duelist who followed you into the sewers and one of only two companions who left again under her own power, is currently sitting perched on the edge of the young man's desk, one ankle folded demurely behind the other as she listens to him speak.

"Oh, hello there milord," she says, flashing you a grin as you approach, "Fancy seeing you here. We were just talking about you. Terrell here's a wizard, you see."

"I… I am a licensed journeyman of the Golden Order," the young man stammers out, his narrow face paling as he looks up at you as might a doe before the wolf. "I have all my licences in order, sir, if you'd care to see them!"

"That will not be necessary," you say, frowning at Spätin in mild reproof, but she just smiles even wider. Honestly, she is far too familiar for someone you met only yesterday. At least Max has the sense to only speak thus in the presence of others you know personally. "I do hope you were not simply gossiping about me without reason."

"Oh no, not at all, your lordship," Spätin assures you, her voice so entirely void of anything approaching sincerity that you hear Max snort slightly from behind you, "I'm in the market for a new sword, you see, what with that purse you paid me yesterday, and Terrell here comes recommended. So we got talking about his work, and it's fascinating."

"I, ah, don't like to advertise it so much around my peers," Terrell stammers out, his face turning slowly red as he speaks, and Taal preserve the lad but he's completely wrapped around her finger already. "But it is not uncommon for men of my order to take up such work for a time, to more properly understand metal and the ways it can be shaped, and of course to build up the funds for our later research."

Markus tests Intuition! Skill is 47, roll is 03, success with +4SL. Opponent gets +2SL.

You nod slowly, discarding the poor lust-struck fool out of hand to focus on the person with the initiative here. Spätin is clearly toying with him for her own enjoyment, and the story about wanting a new sword is not entirely false, but there is clearly something more to her interest than such base desires alone. Given what you encountered yesterday, her decision to start questioning a wizard is worthy of concern.

"I trust you have not been discussing yesterday's assignment too freely," you say in a hard voice, "nor allowing such things to exert too great a weight on your thoughts."

Spätin freezes briefly, then lets out a slightly nervous laughter. "Ah, was I truly so obvious? You can't blame a girl for wanting to know a little more, surely. Not knowing things is how you get dead."

"There is knowledge in this world, Frau Spätin, more dangerous than any ignorance," you say sternly, "If you would seek comfort from such visions, you would be better served visiting a temple than harassing a journeyman for answers he is forbidden by law to share."

"Oh, very well," the duelist sighs, making no move to shift from her position at the edge of the desk, "but since the men at temple don't have arms like a blacksmith, you'll forgive me for not seeking out spiritual guidance just yet, no?"

You blink at that, utterly bemused. Terrell does have nice arms, you will concede, well muscled and finely shaped, but to put such pleasures above the state of one's soul seems the greatest kind of folly to you. Still, she has been warned, and the boy too, so you suppose your work here has been completed. You tip your hat to the both of them, and without a backwards glance you turn and make your way back out of the Metalworker's Guild at a brisk march.

For the sake of propriety, you ignore the faint sound of Max and Spätin clasping hands behind you as you leave, and pretend not to hear the quiet words of encouragement your hireling gives the increasingly nervous journeyman before he follows you out. Some discussions are just not worth having.

-/-

The High Temple of Sigmar dominates the Göttenplatz, larger than any other building in Bögenhafen and thrice as ostentatious. The design is clearly one that has evolved over time, the traditional T-shaped layout now buried under generations of expansion and development, the stone walls encrusted with murals and gargoyles and no less than four great bell towers. The doors are open as you approach, and leaving Max outside at his request you head inside in search of the local high priest.

(Max avoided entering the town hall as well, as you recall. Does he simply find any place of power uncomfortable, or is there something more to it? A thought for later.)

As expected, the interior boasts long lines of pews covered by richly embroidered cushions, while great works of devotional art hang from the walls and the statues of local luminaries stand watch in a dozen minor alcoves. You are mildly surprised to realise that you don't recognise any of them - the traditional statues of famous Emperors and venerated saints have all given way to what you can only assume are more local souls, many of whom seem to be dressed in the prosperous robes of merchants.

"I am looking for your high priest," you say to the first novitiate you encounter, who draws himself upright like a soldier on parade as soon as he realises just who addresses him, "Where are they?"

"I, ah, believe High Priest Edel is in a meeting," the youth stammers out, "If you would wait here for a moment, I shall enquire if he is free to speak with you."

You nod, watching with some vague amusement as the novitiate scurries off like a terrified mouse in search of his superior. Then you take a slow breath, enjoying the quiet sanctity of this place of worship, and move up towards the altar at the front of the church to offer your respects. The great statue of Sigmar that stands behind it is stern and imposing in aspect, a gold-plated hammer in one hand and a thick scroll in the other; your god in the aspect of lawgiver, it seems. Fitting, for a place as peaceful and prosperous as this.

Kneeling before the altar, you clear your mind as best you can of all distraction, murmuring the familiar words of the Twelve Prayers of Righteousness. Your heart is still unbalanced, your wit unable to truly resolve the conflict between law and dogma now sweeping the land, but less than twelve hours ago you called to the Heldenhammer and smote a daemon beneath the streets of this town, and that matters. Your hunt, your duty, matters. There is strength and purpose to be found in such sacred work, and in your heart you are glad that Sigmar has granted you the opportunity to pursue it, to atone for your previous mistakes with service.

"Ah, master templar," the novitiate from earlier says in a nervous voice, waiting only for your prayer to end before addressing you, "the high priest will see you now."

You nod and rise to your feet, following the novice out of the main temple and into one of the smaller chambers that comprise the temple's outlying wings. Two men in the black robes of the priesthood await you in the vestry there, one young and smooth-cheeked with a deeply unfortunate tonsure, the other a grizzled veteran with a scar across one eye and faded tattoos of sacred scripture across his bald head.

"High Priest Edel," you say, inclining your head to the elder, "Thank you for seeing me."

"Actually," the younger priest says, clearing his throat and fixing you with a displeased glare as the older veteran winces and looks aside, "that would be me."

"...my apologies, Father," you say, fighting down a sudden surge of absolute mortification, "I am new to this town. Markus von Bruner, of the Holy Orders."

"Ludo Edel, High Priest of Bögenhafen," the young man says with some minor grace, flicking his hand briefly at the hoary veteran to his side, "this is Father Sigiwalt, from the Chapel of Blessed Sigmar in the town's northern districts. We were just discussing the importance of maintaining a unified voice among the priesthood. On which note - what brings a Templar of the Holy Orders to my door?"

You pause for a moment to muster your thoughts, pushing past your confusion and doubt at Edel's apparent rank. He cannot possibly be older than twenty years or so, at the most; how did such a young man get appointed High Priest of a temple parish as important as Bögenhafen?

"A cult of the dark gods operates in Bögenhafen," you say bluntly, paring away the extraneous details in the interests of clarity, "they have ritually murdered at least two men, and summoned at least one daemon into a chamber beneath the streets of the city. I slew the beast last night, and have since tracked the source of the ritual implements used to the offices of the Steinhäger family."

Ludo Edel gapes at you like a fish, while behind him Father Sigiwalt leans forward with a sudden gleam of zeal in his eyes. "This is about the Ordo Septenarius, is it not, Master von Bruner?"

"I was sent here to investigate the group, yes," you say briskly, "and though the investigation is ongoing, it seems likely they are the culprits, yes."

"No," High Priest Edel says flatly, snapping out of his shock as you speak, "they are not."

You stare at him for a moment, entirely taken aback. "Forgive me, Father, but the evidence…"

"Is inconclusive, as you said. Perhaps if you had spoken to me before venturing into the sewers I might have saved you some time," Ludo sighs, shaking his head. "The Ordo Septenarius is well known to me, and indeed to all the heads of Bögenhafen's major temples. They are a social club, nothing more, and one that donates a great deal of funds to the faith and various charitable causes throughout town. I believe they have just opened a soup kitchen in conjunction with the Shallyans, in fact."

"With respect, sire," Father Sigiwalt says, his brow furrowing in ways that twist the scriptures across his scalp, "that seems naive. The Ordo conduct their meetings robed and masked, obsess over numbers and their meaning, work towards some grand ambition they speak of only in code…"

"And as I already told you when last you raised your concerns, Father Sigiwalt, none of that is a crime," Ludo growls, turning on the elder priest with fury in his eyes, "Yet now I see that you were not content with my judgement, and instead chose to write, unauthorised, to the Holy Orders! By Sigmar, man, I am your high priest! You'll spend the rest of your days in a monastery for this!"

You hardly need any great wisdom to discern that you have stumbled over some preexisting dispute between these two men. Indeed, you would be surprised if Sigiwalt is alone in holding such a low opinion of the high priest's decisions and authority; doubtless there are many priests in Bögenhafen who are older and more proven than this smooth-cheeked youth that cult politics have elevated above them in the hierarchy.

"Regardless of whether the Ordo is involved," you say as sharply as you can, intervening before this can escalate into a flaming row, "someone has summoned a daemon in this town, and I have evidence that implicates the Steinhäger family. Action must be taken, and swiftly."

"I am aware of that, master Templar," High Priest Edel says testily, "but as the ranking authority in this region, it is my duty to do what is best for Bögenhafen, not whatever best allays my subordinate's paranoid zeal."

"What is best for…" Father Sigiwalt growls, shaking his head, "is it not obvious? I can speak with Lieutenant Brotte of the north barracks, and vouch for her character besides - she got the worst assignment in Bögenhafen because of her refusal to take bribes from any merchant. We speak with her, gather her troops, and raid the Steinhäger offices this afternoon. Search the place, arrest and question everyone present, and finish this all with swift and decisive action."

"You will do no such thing," Ludo says flatly, one hand cutting through the air in denial, "No, this must be handled with care. I will approach Teugen and Magirius about this - the head of the Town Council and the master of the Merchant's Guild. Once we have their backing, we can arrange a quiet interview with Franz and Heinrich Steinhäger… and, if necessary, a quiet trial as well. The last thing anyone wants is something as explosive as a Templar raid on one of the most powerful merchant families in Bögenhafen, and right in the middle of the Schaffenfest as well. Such a destabilising event would be nothing short of a disaster."

Father Sigiwalt looks as if he is about to explode, and you… you have a choice to make. As High Priest, Ludo Edel is your lawful superior in this matter, and any proper trial would likely require him to sit in judgement alongside the council head and merchant guildmaster. Yet the thought of proceeding so slowly, in refusing to even consider the idea that this secretive Ordo could be involved or dangerous in any way… can concern for the law truly be allowed to bind your hands in such a situation?

Your judgement is flawed, your reason inferior, and yet it seems you must make the decision regardless. The fate of Bögenhafen could well depend upon it.

Article:

[ ] Obey High Priest Edel

[ ] Follow Father Sigiwalt