A Pale Glimmer
Tenth Day of the Seventh Month 293 AC
The circumstances of Lady Forlys' tale may seem probable enough from her perspective, but from where you are standing you can see holes large enough to march the Legion through with Minotaurs leading the charge. She seems to be less a spy and more a pawn given make-work for some unknown reason.
Why make use of her services when an impostor could do just as well? Why pay her when a shapeshifter could serve serve better? Why give her such vague instructions followed by a single precise date on which the transfer is to be made? The questions keep pouring in, matched only by the many permutations and plots that could explain one or another of the circumstances.
The hesitant sound of the lady clearing her throat calls you back to yourself. "My pardons, I was pondering what is afoot here," you offer with a sheepish smile that seems to startle her for some reason. "Before we part ways I would much like to see this raven you were given, and..." you hesitate a moment. "Your chambers, to ensure there are no hidden passages or other unpleasant surprises there."
She pales, then seems to bite her tongue against the obvious rejoinder, choosing to trust you in spite of what she had just endured. "Yes, of course. It's in the east wing, on the second floor." Now it is her turn to pause awkwardly. "Perhaps we might wait for a later hour to go up there lest the servants notice... that is, our association."
"The balcony there with the carvings of roses?" you point.
"Yes?" the lady replies sounding confused.
After you explain translocation she sighs in relief, obviously more willing to risk herself to strange magics than her reputation to gossiping servants. Unless you are much mistaken she has far more to worry about from the servants than gossip...
***
The room smells of lavender water and honeysuckle over a faint musty scent of a place only recently opened again, the furnishings seem new, their lines of an understated pale elegance that lends itself to an almost ethereal air. It feels like the sort of place one would hesitate to tread too heavily in lest something break, so obviously you poke through every nook and cranny, pushing aside furniture and rolling up fine Qarthi rugs to look for hidden signs or the seams of passages. What you find is not what you had expected...
The carpet just beneath the bed is heavier than it has any right to be, and beneath it is a glyph writ in rust red:
I'zeth, 'voice' in the tongue of dragons. The carpet, backed with lead you now recognize, had hidden it from a cursory examination, but now you can see that it glowing faintly with the pallid light of death magic.
"Is that
blood?" Though Lady Forlys' voice is hushed you can hear the strain in it as she struggles against panic.
"If it is then it must be quite old," you say by way of reassurance, though you are far from reassured yourself. You carefully scrape up a few flakes of the substance without damaging the seal itself, thinking to show them to Waymar or Tyene for confirmation before moving on to the remainder of the apartments.
The raven seems to be an entirely mundane bird, no hint of magic about it, no matter how sharp you make your gaze. Even the messenger pouch is the same as that most maesters use, though that does not convince you of the authenticity of the supposed Westerosi agent as much as it once might have. You have seen the Citadel's agents commune by sending stone.
Finally, forewarned by the trick with the rug, you decide to search for hidden passages by hand rather than trusting in divination. Thus you send Varys unseen and insubstantial as a phantom to test the walls, and sure enough she finds a narrow chamber guarded by a lead-lined door. Your familiar tells you that a man would have to crawl to get through there, but such petty indignities would hardly be an impediment to assassins.
What do you do?
[] Leave one of the Erinyes to guard Lady Forlys
[] Have the lady claim to find the strange marking on her own and demand another room
[] Write in
OOC: Well Viserys passed the wisdom check to be thorough here. There is definitely something occult going on here.
In the omake, I'm writing my character had the normal Westerosi combat training. Though he ended up not being any good at it, I've reflected this in his flaws (vulnerable and non-combatant).
