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((18 Harvestmere, 35 Dragon; After sunset; @Adelaide Orland ))
Another night, another noble prig to prank. This time, the target of honor was Barrett Orland: family man, slum lord and all around greedy bastard. He'd evidently squeezed enough coppers to annoy the folk who kept him in his elevated station: the tenants in his leaky Lowtown properties and the servants who catered to the whims of himself and his family. At least one of the latter knew enough about the Friends of Red Jenny to arrange and facilitate a comeuppance … and potentially a more than metaphoric payback.
The Orland clan was bound for a Hightown soiree this evening, and the inside man (or woman) was supposed to have all the servants either off for the evening or attending a card game in the servants' quarters, well away from the epicenter of incipient mayhem. She'd watched the coach depart, then a bit longer to let the card game (and the associated drinking) get under way before making her move.
As with most nobles, it seemed to be expected that the guards would stay outside, lest they dirty the carpets, and it was no trick to slip around them to a back door that was even less of a trick to unlock.
She'd brought her full complement of dirty tricks, tucked here and there in the pockets of her vest, bandannas stowed away, except for the green one used to tie her hair back in a tail that could be quickly loosed in case a quick change of appearance was needed. Three minutes out of sight, and nine of ten people who had seen her run from a scene (not that anything like that had happened lately) wouldn't recognize her if she walked up and asked them for directions.
Barrett Orland was a snob about nearly everything: the finest foods, the best wines, the most expensive clothes. So many targets to choose from. Celeste had already relayed a warning not to eat anything that came from the kitchens in the next few days, so she would start there, then move on to the study, where Important Men conducted Important Business. And then maybe a quick hop upstairs to the bedroom, where there was oh so much potential for entertainment. Too bad she'd left Hubert's undies in Elthina's room; they would have been fun to plant here, but she'd just have to improvise. And if she came across any coin to liberate and redistribute to the folk that Ser Barrett had been screwing out of it, so much the better.
But first, the kitchen. The Orlands were wealthy enough to have white sugar … which, of course, looked amazingly like salt. Simple, yes, but just one of a series of steps that would aggregate until no one would dare consume the food that came out of this room.
Next, the milk, which had been thoughtfully set aside in a cool spot to separate. A few drops of vinegar should do the trick, and since most kitchens kept that on hand, Celeste hadn't bothered to bring any. Just had to find it ...
Humming softly to herself, Celeste crouched to examine the contents of one of the cabinets.
Another night, another noble prig to prank. This time, the target of honor was Barrett Orland: family man, slum lord and all around greedy bastard. He'd evidently squeezed enough coppers to annoy the folk who kept him in his elevated station: the tenants in his leaky Lowtown properties and the servants who catered to the whims of himself and his family. At least one of the latter knew enough about the Friends of Red Jenny to arrange and facilitate a comeuppance … and potentially a more than metaphoric payback.
The Orland clan was bound for a Hightown soiree this evening, and the inside man (or woman) was supposed to have all the servants either off for the evening or attending a card game in the servants' quarters, well away from the epicenter of incipient mayhem. She'd watched the coach depart, then a bit longer to let the card game (and the associated drinking) get under way before making her move.
As with most nobles, it seemed to be expected that the guards would stay outside, lest they dirty the carpets, and it was no trick to slip around them to a back door that was even less of a trick to unlock.
She'd brought her full complement of dirty tricks, tucked here and there in the pockets of her vest, bandannas stowed away, except for the green one used to tie her hair back in a tail that could be quickly loosed in case a quick change of appearance was needed. Three minutes out of sight, and nine of ten people who had seen her run from a scene (not that anything like that had happened lately) wouldn't recognize her if she walked up and asked them for directions.
Barrett Orland was a snob about nearly everything: the finest foods, the best wines, the most expensive clothes. So many targets to choose from. Celeste had already relayed a warning not to eat anything that came from the kitchens in the next few days, so she would start there, then move on to the study, where Important Men conducted Important Business. And then maybe a quick hop upstairs to the bedroom, where there was oh so much potential for entertainment. Too bad she'd left Hubert's undies in Elthina's room; they would have been fun to plant here, but she'd just have to improvise. And if she came across any coin to liberate and redistribute to the folk that Ser Barrett had been screwing out of it, so much the better.
But first, the kitchen. The Orlands were wealthy enough to have white sugar … which, of course, looked amazingly like salt. Simple, yes, but just one of a series of steps that would aggregate until no one would dare consume the food that came out of this room.
Next, the milk, which had been thoughtfully set aside in a cool spot to separate. A few drops of vinegar should do the trick, and since most kitchens kept that on hand, Celeste hadn't bothered to bring any. Just had to find it ...
Humming softly to herself, Celeste crouched to examine the contents of one of the cabinets.
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