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[[OOC: 17th Firstfall, late morning, a nice house at the upper end of Lowtown.]]
Celeste Monroe
Nicolette was walking more slowly than usual this morning. She did not have Thibault with her, and was not carrying her vielle; neither was she wearing one of her customary performing dresses, but had opted for a practical tunic and breeches instead. Her hair was pulled back in a plait and she wore no jewellery, apart from the small chunk of amber around her neck and which for the moment was tucked inside her shirt. It made her feel a little more courageous, which was desperately needed at the moment.
Somehow, even though Nicolette’s attempts to help Anders with his personal problem had not gone well, the fact that she had been trying to help the mage underground had made its way to somebody else and shortly after she had taken up residence on the Wicked Grace she had started to receive occasional notes asking her to move small items around or carry letters from one person to another. Helpful, yet harmless, and well within her abilities to explain away if she was caught.
This was a different thing altogether. A local landlord had apparently been gathering secrets on his tenants and forcing higher rents and favours from people in exchange for keeping certain things quiet. That already would have been bad enough, but he had found out of his tenants had a daughter who was a mage. He had promised to keep their secret, but in exchange for a deal that Nicolette found abhorrent.
The tables needed to be turned – he needed to be subject to blackmail himself in order to keep him both quiet and away from the family. Ideally, all the families in his properties. Somebody needed to find their way into his house and search his belongings for anything that could be used against him.
Every part of it was something Nicolette did not like. It was vague, there was no guarantee she would even find anything, and she was fairly certain she had been asked to do it because they thought she could use her looks to find her way into his rooms. It was a little too bardic for her tastes, but neither would her conscience let her turn the job down, which was why she was now trying to creep around the edge of his property, marking down the guard rotations (thankfully he had few men around), and work out how she could get in.
He had a garden at the back and Nicolette considered going over the wall and coming in that way. The man was out at the moment, and she was sure that the guards were all slacking off at the front of the house. Conveniently there was also a pile of assorted rubbish and broken crates towards the back that might help her get over. After creeping around the property a few times (earning a couple of strange looks in the process), she decided it was clear and opted to scramble up. She would not go over, just yet – she needed to see into the garden and work out if it was clear.
Fate had other plans, and the moment she had jumped from the top of the crates and grabbed the wall, the pile collapsed beneath her with a crash, leaving her clinging on. She could not drop in case she hurt herself in the pile of broken things below, but she was dangling at arm’s length, which made it more tricky. Slowly, she swung a leg up, scrabbling around for a toehold so she could boost herself up.
Celeste Monroe
Nicolette was walking more slowly than usual this morning. She did not have Thibault with her, and was not carrying her vielle; neither was she wearing one of her customary performing dresses, but had opted for a practical tunic and breeches instead. Her hair was pulled back in a plait and she wore no jewellery, apart from the small chunk of amber around her neck and which for the moment was tucked inside her shirt. It made her feel a little more courageous, which was desperately needed at the moment.
Somehow, even though Nicolette’s attempts to help Anders with his personal problem had not gone well, the fact that she had been trying to help the mage underground had made its way to somebody else and shortly after she had taken up residence on the Wicked Grace she had started to receive occasional notes asking her to move small items around or carry letters from one person to another. Helpful, yet harmless, and well within her abilities to explain away if she was caught.
This was a different thing altogether. A local landlord had apparently been gathering secrets on his tenants and forcing higher rents and favours from people in exchange for keeping certain things quiet. That already would have been bad enough, but he had found out of his tenants had a daughter who was a mage. He had promised to keep their secret, but in exchange for a deal that Nicolette found abhorrent.
The tables needed to be turned – he needed to be subject to blackmail himself in order to keep him both quiet and away from the family. Ideally, all the families in his properties. Somebody needed to find their way into his house and search his belongings for anything that could be used against him.
Every part of it was something Nicolette did not like. It was vague, there was no guarantee she would even find anything, and she was fairly certain she had been asked to do it because they thought she could use her looks to find her way into his rooms. It was a little too bardic for her tastes, but neither would her conscience let her turn the job down, which was why she was now trying to creep around the edge of his property, marking down the guard rotations (thankfully he had few men around), and work out how she could get in.
He had a garden at the back and Nicolette considered going over the wall and coming in that way. The man was out at the moment, and she was sure that the guards were all slacking off at the front of the house. Conveniently there was also a pile of assorted rubbish and broken crates towards the back that might help her get over. After creeping around the property a few times (earning a couple of strange looks in the process), she decided it was clear and opted to scramble up. She would not go over, just yet – she needed to see into the garden and work out if it was clear.
Fate had other plans, and the moment she had jumped from the top of the crates and grabbed the wall, the pile collapsed beneath her with a crash, leaving her clinging on. She could not drop in case she hurt herself in the pile of broken things below, but she was dangling at arm’s length, which made it more tricky. Slowly, she swung a leg up, scrabbling around for a toehold so she could boost herself up.