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Cuthbert trudged along behind Inyelw'n as they stepped out of the Salty Siren, making no effort to hide that he'd rather have stayed behind. The elf duchess didn't seem to notice or care, instead looking up the cliffside to the rest of Ightwood. "The Eiriadhuld embassy is doubtless in the upper echelons of town, but I refuse to let them see me in these tatters." She indicated to her dress with a dismissive hand, which, despite being scavenged from her destroyed caravan and dragged through the forest for the better part of a week, was still made of silk and nicer than anything the sailors around them had ever touched. In fact, several of the rougher ones kept glancing over here...
"Well, if you want we can pawn some stuff and buy you new clothes along the way up. Come on, come on, let's get out of here," Cuthbert said, grabbing Inyelw'n by the arm and dragging her along behind him. Thankfully she followed without making a royal fuss, and focused on keeping pace with the marksman as they marched up the steep walkways along the jagged hillside. The transition from one class of the city to the other was obvious to them when the oily dead fish smell was replaced with a sucker punch of spices and burning incense. Drab brown wooden buildings were replaced by sturdy stone structures with colorful banners, and a constant muddle of shouting made any whispered conversation a laughable concept. The streets were made to be much wider here, but in reality every available space was crowded with merchants trying to sell their wares. Anywhere the tide of people lessened for a moment, a new stand was erected from the aether and a new merchant's voice was added to the throng.
Cuthbert was pulling Inyelw'n by the hand as he weaved through the crowd, yelling back at her to not talk to any of the merchants. After some headway was made the elf insisted on stopping for a moment, and he was able to find a shaded alcove that was only moderately shaking with activity. Inyelw'n was panting and had a bewildered look about her, so he asked if this was the first time she had been in the middle of such a large crowd. "Well, I have addressed large crowds before, but I'll admit this is the first time I've been among such an... unruly people. I'm thankful you seem to know what you're doing, are you from here?"
"Nah. I did grow up in a busy trade town that's further inland, and if you've fought your way through one business district then you've fought them all. Right now we're still in the touristy part of town, so we can't sell anything just yet. Just keep one hand on your bag at all times and don't get dragged into any conversations, we need to go further in and find a stand that's just seedy enough. You ready to go?" Inyelw'n nodded and he took her hand again, this time having the grip returned with an anxious energy. They went back into the throng, the marksman ducking and weaving amongst the crowd with the ease that comes from being ignored most of your life. By taking a winding path they were able to avoid a stand of different nuts, gave a wide berth to an argument over cart placement, ducked under a sarong stand that had somehow grown into an overhanging bridge of cloth, and stopped at an alleyway. Here the crowd was thinner but not gone, the alley was shaded but not dark, the stands were selling illegal animals but not weapons, and the air smelled of only technically illegal drugs. Perfect.
Unfortunately, they didn't have any money left to bribe merchants for information, but eventually they found a stand manned by an elf with a similar dark complexion as Inyelw'n. To Cuthbert's surprise she thrust the bag of jewelry into his arms and urged him forward, insisting that she remain out of sight to protect her image, so with a shrug he approached the merchant. Like any elf he was tall and lean, but unlike Inyelw'n's ropy dreads his hair was a close-cropped bush with a goatee to match that made his ears appear all the pointier. The table in front of him was draped with a turquoise cloth and covered in lines of baubles--small silver jewelry, bone carvings, and wood sculptures all with a curvy element he took to mean elven origin. "Uh... hey there," Cuthbert said, and the elf's beaming smile quickly faded when he assessed that he probably wasn't there to buy anything. "Nice stand. I got some, uh, elven jewelry he think you could expand your inventory with."
The elf didn't say anything, but his expression turned quizzical and then to surprise when he opened the sack. Cuthbert pulled a piece out at random, a section of silver and white gold filigree bent into the shape of some weird tree, and handed it to the merchant. He took and studied it with a discerning eye, turning it over and over as if it would suddenly change in his hands, and asked in a very quiet voice, "Where did you get this?"
"Oh, just a little thing he picked up on my... adventures..." Cuthbert's voice faltered when the merchant looked up at him for the first time, his eyes full of suspicion that was quickly being overcome by anger.
"This," he said, voice dangerously slow, "is the royal insignia for the House of Inyelw'n." Uh-oh. "Their caravan was meant to arrive here four days ago, but it was found ransacked." Not good. "Everyone dead and burned, except for its missing duchess." Oh shit. "AND you're wearing elven clothing." Cuthbert gulped, he had completely forgotten that the tunic he was wearing instead of his leathers had been looted from the caravan.
"Uh... I can explain?" The elf merchant leapt onto his table, and when someone is willing to leap onto their table it generally removes all pretense for a calm chat. He went for a weapon but Cuthbert was already making dust clouds in his hasty retreat, and to his surprise he saw Inyelw'n's backside as she darted ahead of him. Cuthbert caught up, grabbed her wrist, made a sudden turn down a different street, shoved their way through a crowd, dived into another alleyway, and kept running until the shouting died away. When it seemed they were out of immediate danger they stopped and hid behind a stack of colorful cloth, panting and staring at each other. "Why... the hell... didn't you just talk to him?" he gasped at her.
"Because... when you were talking... I found this," Inyelw'n panted back, uncrumpling a mildly sweaty flyer before handing it to the other. In big block letters it said WANTED FOR QUESTIONING REGARDING FORNICATION WITH DEMONS and below was a picture of a very elegant Duchess Inyelw'n. Any information below it was ripped off in the haste, but the message was clear.
"Oh hells, how did this happen?" Cuthbert asked, but Inyelw'n wasn't listening. She was staring at the wanted poster, the air around her sending off sparks as her anger fueled her magical talents. Luckily, he remembered the collar she has to wear and darted a hand into her blouse, taking hold of the slim chain and giving it a yank. Nothing painful, just enough to get Inyelw'n's attention... and cause her nipples to harden against her silk dress. "Breath, Inyelw'n. Calm down. This is not the place for sorcery or sex. If you want to find out who did this, you need to maintain control."