Without someone to run it, the meeting had devolved into chaos. Quiet, polite chaos of course - these were merchants, not adventurers. People had split up into small groups with quiet, urgent conversations, probably passing on the rumours they’d heard.

Fortunately, one of the more senior merchants decided that this wasn’t going anywhere and climbed up onto the raised platform at the end of the room. I didn’t know much about him beyond his name, Nicholas Winston and that he traded in furs.

“Gentlefolk, please!” he called out. “This meeting is to help us work together, not repeat the gossip of the marketplace!”

With everyone’s attention attracted, the crowd started gathering at that end of the room. People broke off their conversations and started looking at him expectantly. He gestured at a few of the others, trying to get them to join him up on the stage, but they refused. He was on his own.

I didn’t blame them. I didn’t want to be up there. I think everyone in the room realised that while nothing illegal had happened yet, the discussion could turn treasonous at any moment. No one wanted to be the ringleader, least of all the one standing on the stage right now. The scowl on his face suggested he wasn’t unaware of the danger he was facing.

“Fine,” he said sourly. “We all came here for a reason. Let's start with putting together what’s going on with these abductions. Could everyone that has witnessed something come forward and tell your tale please.”

One by one, people started telling their stories. A few of the shorter, or more quietly spoken ones were encouraged to stand on the stage, but most just spoke from within the crowd.

I didn’t pay too much attention to what they said - I’d been the seed for most of the stories after all. I focussed on the crowd instead. [Intrigue] was starting to stir. I started to tease out the group dynamics, singling out the ones who were listening with anger and outrage at what they heard.

At this stage, there didn’t seem to be any deliberate plants that I could tell. No one was planning on running to the Baron to sell us out. There were a few waverers though, that would need keeping an eye on.

[Intrigue] Level 3 acquired through use

For gaining a skill level you have been awarded 1 XP

The stories finished, and the crowd devolved again into babel. Frustration was evident on the faces near me, and was mirrored in the brave Master Winston who’d chosen to chair the meeting. The problem was that there really wasn’t a lot there. The pattern of attacks on Beast-kin by guards was plain to see, but no one had much in the way of evidence. No one knew of a Beast-kin who was missing. No one had gotten a good look at the perpetrators.

So there was outrage, but a keen sense that this wasn’t enough evidence. “What can we do?” was a common question, but no one had an answer.

I had one.

“I know one thing we must do,” I said, finally speaking up when the frustration reached its peak. I paused to let what I’d said sink in, and give time for the crowd to re-orient on me.”

“And what is that?” Winston asked me warily.

“We have to keep these rumours from the beast-kin remaining in the town, and make sure that the Tribal Council doesn’t hear of them.”

Confused and angry murmurs greeted my statement. One person called out: “You mean cover this up?”

“We have to!” I called out, projecting as much as I could without shouting. “If the Council finds out about this, it could lead to a war!” That quieted the muttering, and I was able to continue at a lower volume. “The only way to end this is for the Inquisitor to bring justice to the man responsible.”

“What if he’s in on it?” someone called, made brave by anonymity.

“Then this goes all the way to the King,” I stated, “And if that’s the case, then war is inevitable.”

That caused a hush to fall over my audience. “But I don’t think that’s the case,” I said, backtracking. “If the King was aware, there would be no need for the care they’ve taken to keep it quiet.”

“Do you really think the Inquisitor can help us?” Winston asked from the stage.

“I do, but we’ll need to bring him more evidence,” I said. “And we’ll need time to gather it. That’s why this needs to be kept secret.”

[Persuasion] Level 4 acquired through use

For gaining a skill level you have been awarded 1 XP

Oh, nice. No notification of social combat, but I guess these guys wanted to be persuaded. I wondered if I got the upgrades because there were so many people here?

Getting a skill up suggested that I’d made my points so I bowed out of leading the crowd and let the others have a say. I’d planted the seeds, so with luck, they’d keep working their way around the same two ideas.

The real reason I wanted it kept secret - well, it wasn’t too distant from the reason given - was twofold. First, I did want to keep agitators from using the rumours to inflame tensions. I didn’t want to actually start a war, but I thought that this was an acceptable risk. When it came down to it, there wouldn’t be any evidence to point to, so I should be able to benefit from the rumours while they lasted without causing any permanent harm.

The second reason was that the Beast-kin in town were in an excellent position to debunk the rumours. No Beast-kin had been lost after all, and they were much more likely to notice that very salient fact.

Searching for evidence would keep them busy, and help them come together as a group, while I worked on the next stage.

I was surprised how much it made a difference, in the Market the next morning. Just knowing that there were others with the same views gave people the courage to push back against the bigoted sneers of the few. They only managed the mildest of rebukes, but that was often enough. Unsure of their audience, the racists kept quiet. I suppose it wasn’t real change, but it felt a lot better.

Nice as it was, that wasn’t a particularly useful result. Talnier wasn’t a democracy, so I wasn’t going to change things through popular opinion. It did make me hopeful though, that the people I was working with weren’t as socially backward as their development level suggested.

“I’m telling you, Sarge, they straight-up murdered him just off the street!” The guardsman looked nervous as he made his report to the sceptical Sargent.

“Why didn’t you stop them then?” The older man asked.

“Well… I’m off duty, and there was just the one of me and three of them,” the younger man said defensively. “I came out of a tavern and saw it, and came looking for you.”

“Drinking down at the docks?”

“You know they’re the only places open after dark with the curfew,”

I tsked to myself at this clear dereliction of duty. I guessed that even an off duty guardsman could count on his buddies letting him go by during a curfew. No one heard me, of course, as I was invisible.

“So you’re drunk, and I’m supposed to believe you saw a murder.”

“I did,” the young man insisted. “It was those fuckers we’re supposed to leave alone.”

“Recognised them, did you?”

“Made sure I would, after I got in trouble bringing one into the guardhouse,” the young man said sulkily. “And they weren’t trying to hide, I saw them clear as day.”

“S’pose it’s worth taking a look,” the Sargent reluctantly admitted. He whistled and his patrol stopped poking about the street and gathered around him. “Let’s go,” he said to his squad.

The off-duty guard led them to outside a pub near the docks. “There,” he said, pointing at an alleyway. The Sargent shrugged and the squad headed over there. It took them about a minute to turn the place over, they weren’t exactly forensic about it.

“There’s nothing here, Pensy,” he said in disgust. “No body, no blood.”

“Stones are wet,” one of the others pointed out. “Could have been cleaned.”

“Smells like cheap beer,” the Sargent sneered. “Could be someone spilled a tankard.”

More like a firkin, I said to myself. I wasn’t sure where that translation had come from. I certainly hadn’t known the different names for small barrels before coming to this world. It had been cheap though, I probably did someone a favour by ensuring it wouldn’t be drunk.

“I know what I saw!” Pensy protested.

“You were drinking, you fool, you probably imagined the whole thing,” the Sargent said.

“I couldn’t have imagined that,” Pensy denied, shuddering. “I never saw no one cut off ears before.”

Finally, he mentions the ears! I had started to think he hadn’t noticed. This was just going to be one of many attempts, but it would be nice if it worked.

The Sargent frowned at the detail. “Ears?” he asked.

“Yeah, it was easy to tell, on account of how he was a beast-man.” Pensy babbled. “But he was already dead, so I dunno why.”

The man who’d noticed the beer - currently my favourite - came up to the Sargent, his face screwed up in thought. “I’ve heard that adventures sometimes get tasked with collecting ears to show they’ve killed a monster.”

“Aye, but I’ve never heard of the practice for people.”

Well, now I felt bad. It seemed that Earth had a few things to teach this world about atrocities. I’d seen the bounty postings in the Guild and assumed that the practice would carry over.

“You don’t think the Guild is putting a bounty on beast-folk?” another guard asked.

“Nah… no way.” The Sargent shook his head. “Wouldn’t be Fang’s collecting on them if so. No, if there’s a bounty on beast-kin it would be coming from…”

His voice trailed off, but at least half the squad seemed to pick up his meaning. The alleyway got awfully quiet.

“Nah, there’s no way.” The Sargent shook himself and said the words with something approaching confidence. “There’s no sign anything happened here, Pensy is just drunk and talking bollocks.”

Pensy tried to protest again, but the Sargent glared him down.

“Still,” he continued. “Keeping our hands off those bastards is one thing, but if we do see a murder, then that rule can go hang, just like the bastard responsible.”

I nodded to myself and slipped away. Not much of an effect, but I knew it would take time. Brick by brick, I was stealing parts of Marseau’s wall, and adding them to my own.

The rest of the week was more of the same stuff. I had to move carefully, in case someone suspected I was pulling a fast one. I started rumours disguised as someone else, I carefully staged incriminating scenes, all to build up the narrative of a Baron out of control

The merchants blamed the Guards, the Guards blamed the Fangs. It was more complicated to keep the two tracks separate, but there was a reason for it. Eventually, the two tracks came together.

“I’m here, Gaspar, because of the disturbing things we’ve been hearing about your Guards.”

Gaspar Clavette was the second-in-command for the Barons Guards. The merchants had decided to brace him, rather than his boss, Captain Guertin. This was both because he wasn’t as close to the Baron and because they knew him better. There was a strong feeling among the group that Gaspar couldn’t possibly be involved in this. Which was accurate.

Winston was doing the talking, but he had brought me and another merchant along for moral support.

“What are you talking about?” Gaspar growled. I was pretty sure he felt he didn’t have time for this, what with his subordinates starting to act up against the Fangs. He kind of had his hands full.

“I’m talking about murder! Of Beast-kin in the streets!”

“Are you mad? There’s no way the Guard would be involved in something like that!”

“They would if the Baron ordered it,” Winston said the words quietly, but with urgency. In our discussions to date, the merchants had danced around the idea that the most likely cause of these crimes was the Baron.

“That's-“ Gaspar said, and then caught himself. It made him look guilty, but I knew the pause was that he’d just made the connection. They were worried about the Baron being behind crimes against Beast-kin. “Do you have any proof?”

“No,” Winston said sourly. “Just sightings from a distance. If we had more than that, we’d go to the Inquisitor. Instead, I’m coming to you. Tell me that he hasn’t ordered this.”

“He hasn’t, I swear,” Gaspar said. “And if he did, there’s not a man under my command that would do such a thing. But…” he paused in thought. “My men are reporting that the Fangs are collecting bounties on Beast-kin.”

“That’s…”

“Obscene, I know. We don’t have any proof either, just tales from a few drunks and vagabonds. But we did find one thing.”

“What?” Winston asked curiously.

“We followed a rumour and raided a place,” Gaspar said slowly. “We didn’t find much, but we did find stolen Guard uniforms.”

“Then you think…”

“I do. Tell me more about what you’ve found.”

I kept the sigh of relief from my lips. The two independent groups had found each other now, and should shore up each other's commitment. If someone from one group thought they might have been fooled, surely the other group was operating with better information?

The storehouse where the uniforms were kept had been fairly easy to break into with the skills of an invisible [Rogue]. The abandoned Fang safehouse had been even easier. It wasn’t much, but my groups now had some tangible evidence to point to, which should help me going forward.

Yes, things were going pretty nicely.