The party spilled out toward the south side of the stable, with Piero muttering under his breath and Gina "Gears" Gearaldi falling in beside them like she had always intended to. Up close, her brass-lit gauntlets clicked softly with each flex, all swagger and polished menace. Hwicce’s street sense read the scene quickly enough: she was real Calabrese muscle, not some opportunist, and Piero’s irritation looked less like distrust and more like a man being told to share his stage.

Marcus’s question earned a sidelong look from Piero as they followed the U-shaped prints into the dirt lane behind the fencing. “Besides being a good racer?” he said. “Comet moves money. Crowds. Favors. Sponsors smile different when she’s winning. Gamblers pray louder too. Plenty of people interact with her. Stable staff. Track officials. Wealthy admirers who pay for the privilege of pretending they matter.” His smile thinned. “So yes. Plenty of reasons.”

Then Freyic declared himself party leader, took two triumphant steps, and immediately pitched forward with an “oof” into the dirt. When he pushed himself up, there was indeed something half-buried beneath him: a dented brass faceplate, mud-caked on one side, with a chipped painted crest on the other. Gears crouched first, one heavy finger scraping grime away. A lantern wagon. Private hire. The crest showed a rearing horse head over crossed betting slips.

Piero’s face soured at once. “That’s not ours.”

From the lane, the tracks told a clearer story now. Hoofprints, yes, but also narrow cart wheels, turned sharp at the south gate before heading away toward the brighter avenues of the district.

Gears stood, plate in hand, grin returning. “Well then,” she said. “Looks like somebody stole your little mystery in style.”

Behind them, inside the stable, Marcus’s ghost kept watch on Nino as the others finally had a direction.

Marcus nodded along as Piero explained. He personally didn't get why people were so moved by races but the concept had existed in his original world as well. He frowned slightly as he realized the list of people who would have seen her was a bit longer than he had hoped.

He had intended to ask more when he saw the younger member of the team slam into the dirt. Marcus winced at the impact. "You okay up there?" He called out.

The spirit medium kneeled down to the crest that had been covered. "Apologies but should I recognize what this crest is? Is this some rival team?" That would explain why they had a wagon that could carry away the prize.

"So what next? Do we want to keep following these tracks, investigate whoever owns this faceplate, or go ask the stable employees if anyone associated with the crest showed up yesterday?"

"I don't think you made the wrong call given what you knew at the time," Elora said to Nino gently, "is there anything else you can remember about this person? Any detail could help." Whether he said something helpful or not, Elora followed up with "thank you, Nino. If you can remember anything else, be sure to tell us. I'm sure you can find some way to contact us."

With that Elora left him and joined the group once more, apparently with a new member, so she introduced herself. "Elora, of house Vaelthorne, pleasure to make your acquaintance. You seem like you'll be capable in a fight, please take no offense, but I hope we're not in need of your expertise." As much as Elora enjoyed a good duel, in this instance a fight would just complicate the investigation.

Elora replied to Marcus' musings about where they should go next, "following the tracks would likely prove difficult or impossible. They went onto the main road, given how much traffic it gets there's no way we'd be able to find the tracks we need. Unless anyone has any magic that would making following those tracks possible. If we don't have said magic, I think we should quickly ask the stable employees if anyone from this company was around yesterday then check out the company ourselves." If anyone had a better idea Elora would consider it, but she thought this course of action was the most logical.

"I think magic is complicated. But I can explain it." Freyic said before talking a long breath and... "Okay, so, the really big magic is in the stuff you touch! Like, if you wiggle your fingers at a campfire, the flames don’t just stay there—they turn into tiny fire-puppies that chase their own tails and bark sparks! But you can't pet them or your mittens will turn into toast. Though toast sounds real good right now; I'm hungry, and thirsty too."

He sighs, before rambling with even more enthusiasm again. "And the water! If you splash in a puddle just right, the water sticks to you like a super-suit, and you can breathe underwater and talk to the fish. My dad says the wind is just air, but I know it’s actually invisible birds. If you catch a breeze in a jar, it’ll whistle your favorite song whenever you’re sad!" So informative, said no one.

"The coolest one is frost and ice. Never having to be hot again? That's the life, don't you think? Freeze the bad guy, then slash them hard! Shatter them to pieces all without breaking a sweat." Freyic's rant however makes him suddenly sleepy and slightly dazed. He rubs his eyes, not worried about anything at all.

Titles: Prime, Prime - Mundane - ed1c24

Hwicce arched one eyebrow as the kid suddenly began explaining about magic all of a sudden, crossing his arms over his chest. "'Suppose that means no one here has any tracking magic." The mercenary leaned closer, trying to get a better look at it.

"Not yours, huh?" Saying so, his eyes slide to both Piero and Gears. "Whose is it then? Either they facilitated what happened, have answers, or could very well be involved." Following the owner of it seemed to be the order of business.

Piero crouched beside the mud-caked plate and scraped the last of the dirt free with his thumbnail. “This is Brass Lantern Private Hire. They run enclosed coaches and lantern wagons for wealthy track patrons, sponsors, and anybody rich enough to want discretion with upholstery.” His eyes lifted to Hwicce. “So yes. Either they were hired, stolen from, or somebody wanted us to find this.”

Gears rolled one massive shoulder, amber light pulsing in the joints of her gauntlet. “Meaning we got a company to visit.” She tipped her fedora lightly toward Elora. “Pleasure’s mine, Lady Vaelthorne. And for the record, I also prefer jobs that don’t end in a brawl. They just never ask me what I prefer.”

Behind them, Elora’s gentle pressure finally got another scrap from Nino. “I saw one of those wagons yesterday,” he admitted, pointing weakly at the faceplate. “Late. South side. Curtains drawn. I thought it was a sponsor pickup.” At that, Piero stared at Freyic for a full beat as he began his breathtaking explanation about magic. “Remarkable,” he said flatly. “And from this dazzling lecture, I gather nobody here can track through city streets by magic.”

Hwicce’s conclusion hung there plainly enough. The road would have swallowed the trail. The wagon company would not.

Gears cracked her metal knuckles with a whir. “Then Brass Lantern it is.”

Piero rose, smoothing his tie. “Good. Their office is three streets over, near the betting arcades. If they leased that wagon, we ask questions. If they lie, Gears stops being decorative.”

Gears grinned.

“I was wondering when my part started.”

---

The route to Brass Lantern Private Hire took them out of the stable quarter and into a cleaner slice of the racing district, where money stopped pretending to be practical and started dressing itself up. The streets here were broader, the lamps brighter, and the storefronts polished to a shine that made even nighttime feel curated. Betting arcades buzzed with soft, constant noise behind brass-framed windows. Men in tailored coats stood beneath awnings discussing odds like priests debating doctrine. Even the horses hitched along the avenue looked brushed within an inch of vanity.

Brass Lantern stood near the corner of a crescent-shaped street, its frontage done in lacquered black wood and gold trim, with tall windows of smoked glass that revealed very little of the interior. Elegant script curled across the sign above the doors. Not gaudy. Worse. Confident. The sort of place that expected its customers to already know its rates and not ask twice.

Two men stood outside beneath the lanterns, both broad through the shoulders and dressed in dark coats too well fitted to be ordinary doormen. One held a cigarette between two fingers and watched the street without seeming to watch it. The other had the posture of a man who knew exactly how much trouble he could legally pass off as security work. Neither wore colors, badges, or anything so crude as open allegiance.

Still, the message was plain enough.

This was not Calabrese ground.

A row of sleek enclosed coaches sat along the side yard beyond an iron fence, each polished, crested, and attended. Stableboys moved briskly under the eyes of clerks. A pair of well-dressed patrons emerged laughing from the main office, only for that laughter to die the moment they noticed Piero and Gears among the approaching party. One of them muttered something to the other and both got moving again with the quick, practiced discretion of people who recognized a brewing inconvenience and wanted no part of it.

Piero slowed just enough for the others to feel the change in air.

“Now,” he said quietly, adjusting his tie, “we are no longer somewhere people are afraid of being rude to us.”

Gears rolled her neck once, the joints in her gauntlets giving a low mechanical click.

“Good,” she said with a grin. “I was getting worried the city had no standards.”

Summarization: The group followed a new lead - the faceplate that pointed them to Brass Lantern Private Hire. They now stand in front of the main office. The choice on how to approach it remains to be decided.

Marcus rubbed the back of his head at the talk of magic. "Unfortunately no, my magic isn't strong enough to be useful here," he commented. Perhaps that'd be next on his list of things to practice.

At Elora's suggestion he had nodded in agreement. When the employee confirmed they had seen a wagon with the same symbol, it all but confirmed that was the next stop. Marcus followed the Widseria natives as they moved through the cities.

As they approached the business he noted the odd change in atmosphere. Marcus glanced back and forth between the Calabrese members and the guards. To be recognized immediately by some citizens seemed to rule out a more discreet approach. "I have a bad feeling about this," he muttered.

After a second Marcus held up a hand. "If you don't mind could we pause for a second? I've got an idea." The spirit medium ducked into an alley, out of sight of the two guards out front. He gripped his staff in his hand as his eyes glowed with magic. He tapped the ground and a brief wave of magic swept through the narrow road. For a brief moment the visage of several ghostly apparitions were visible as Marcus connected to them before they once again disappeared.

"Okay guys, I'm going to need help from all of you for this. I'm going to need one of you to go inspect the stage coaches. See if you can find one missing it's faceplate. If you can, see if anything of interest is inside."

"I need another one of you to go hang around the stable hands. Listen in and see if any of them are talking about Comet or what happened last night."

"The other two go into the building, spread out, and see if anyone is talking about Comet. Once we show up, it's likely to cause a stir inside."

"Everyone meet back here in half an hour, okay? I really appreciate this guys."

Once the commands were finished the minions nodded in acknowledgement. The iron fence, guards out front, the walls of the building itself, none of it mattered to the Haunters. They lumbered through them as if they were air as they marched unseen to carry out their task.

After they had left Marcus returned to the others. He cleared his throat, "I've got some friends looking around the place. If we're civil do you all think we could get through the front door? I don't know the politics of the city but surely they wouldn't turn us away if we're just asking questions?"

He turned to Piero, "how fast does news travel around here? Should we assume Comet's disappearance is public knowledge or has Big Don kept it under wraps?"

Actions:
1. Order the Troops: [Magic] F, [Targets] F, [Telepathy] F, [Sixth Sense: See Spirits] F - Grade F - Cooldown 0

Titles: Prime, Prime - Mundane - ed1c24

Hwicce scratched his beard for a moment as Marcus posed the question of how the people of the Brass Lantern Private Hire might react. "Guess that will depend on if they are in it or not. Then comes whether whatever they tell us is the truth or not. Folks tend not to lie when you press a blade to their throat." The mercenary crossed his arms. "But you two know this city best. What do you say?" He asked both Piero and Gears.

By the time Marcus rejoined them, Brass Lantern’s smoked windows and tailored guards were close enough to remind everyone that this side of the district wore its danger with cleaner cuffs.

At Marcus’s question, Piero adjusted his bright tie and glanced toward the entrance. “Public knowledge? No. Public suspicion? Very much so. In a district like this, odds move faster than gossip and gossip moves faster than plague. People know something happened. They do not know what, and Dom would like to keep it that way a little longer.”

Hwicce’s question drew a low mechanical click from Gears as she folded her metal arms. “If they’re innocent, they’ll lie because rich businesses always lie first. If they’re guilty, they’ll lie better.” Her grin sharpened. “So yes, we can go through the front door. We just shouldn’t expect the truth to be waiting there with a smile.”

Piero nodded once. “Civil gets us inside. Names get us watched. Threats get us nowhere unless we’re ready to make a scene, and this is not Dom’s turf. Here, they hide knives behind invoices.” He looked over the party, then back to the doors. “So we ask simple questions. About the wagon. About last night. About who leased it. We let them pretend this is respectable business.”

Gears tilted her hat back. “And if respectable business gets rude, then my part starts.”

Piero sighed through his nose.

“Yes. We are all deeply aware of when your part starts.”

"She gets more and more annoying by the second..." Freyic mumbled to him selves so quietly there words were lost in the wind. "Ms. Gears, carry me! I need a higher veiw so I can scout as well!" He makes gimme gimme hands as he reaches up and bounces in his toes. "I've got a real good set of eyes. I'd be able to track with casual skills if I had a birds eye view. Plus, I'm tired and I don't wanna walk anymore."

Elora resisted the urge to roll her eyes at Freyic asking Gears to carry him. How this child had been deemed an appropriate hire for this job she may never be able to figure out. "Will whoever has the faceplate please give it to to me? I'll go have a chat with those...gentlemen." Elora was considering a more rude word to describe the men but decided against it, she needed to put on her polite noble air rather than her duelist persona.

After obtaining the faceplate Elora walked confidently over to the men, "excuse me sirs," Elora called out as she got close, "my friends and I came across this faceplate, we assume it belongs to one of your carriages. It seems said carriage was damaged in transit," as she spoke she held out the faceplate. Not dramatically, and not far enough out that they could snatch it from her. But enough that they could clearly see it was theirs. She continued, "you wouldn't happen to know which carriage this is from, would you? Or perhaps we could speak to someone who would?" Elora was calm, keeping her tone even. Nothing good would come from the men suspecting they were here for any reason other than the faceplate. As Piero said, respectable business.

Marcus frowned at the mention of threats. "People will say anything you want if you put a blade to their throat, doesn't make it the truth," he muttered. He glanced around at the present company and decided it was probably best to drop the topic.

At Piero's instructions however the spirt medium nodded. Simple questions, keep it vague, those were things he could follow. He raised a brow at the kid's complaint of being tired but decided against commenting. He readjusted his axe in it's holster in case it was needed, then followed Elora as she approached the front of the store.

Titles: Prime, Prime - Mundane - ed1c24

Hwicce shrugged. "Let's see what good comes from that then." He didn't say anything about Freyic's request, only mirrored Marcus' own reaction; a single eyebrow raised momentarily. He would let the woman herself deal with it. And, following behind Elora, the mercenary would put on his best impression as she began talking with the 'guards': a wide smile on his lips and one of his hands hidden behind his back, gripping the handle of one of his throwing knives, just in case.

Freyic’s demand for elevation was met by Gina “Gears” Gearaldi staring down at him for one long second, brass-lit gauntlets humming softly at her sides.

“Kid,” she said at last, “I respect the hustle. But if I carry you, people are gonna think I’m returning a lost package.”

Still, with a snort, she hooked one metal hand under his arm and hoisted him just high enough to get his “bird’s eye view” before setting him back down. “There. Scout responsibly.”

By then Elora had the faceplate in hand and was already moving. The guards watched her come without shifting much at all, but the one with the cigarette let his gaze linger on the plate, then on Piero and Gears behind her, and some of the practiced boredom left his face.

At her measured question, the second guard stepped forward first. He did not reach for the plate, which in itself said something.

“That is Brass Lantern property,” he said. Smooth voice. Expensive coat. Not a servant, then. Security with aspirations. “Damaged in transit, you say.”

The cigarette man flicked ash onto the pavement and gave a thin smile toward Hwicce’s very friendly expression. “Funny district for found property.”

Before either could press harder, the front door opened and a clerk emerged, lean and severe in a dark vest with a gold watch chain across his middle. His eyes went to the faceplate, then sharpened.

“That would be carriage fourteen,” he said. “Leased last night through a private booking.”

Piero’s smile never reached his eyes. “Wonderful. Then we’re making progress.”

The clerk folded his hands. “Perhaps. If you would care to explain why Calabrese people are asking after one of my company’s coaches.”

Marcus focused on keeping his expression as neutral as possible as he listened to the conversation. They hadn't immediately devolved into a fight, which was a good thing, but there was a definite tension in the air. He felt a twinge of regret he'd already deployed all the haunters. He hoped this carriage fourteen was still damaged and easy to differentiate. The spirit medium cleared his throat and stepped forward.

"The coach was on Calabrese territory when the damage took place you see and unfortunately Calabrese property was also involved in the incident. We simply wish to know who leased it last night so we can discuss the matter with them," Marcus said as he forced a smile onto his face.

Actions:
1. Use the ability: Let's be Friends: [Persuasion] F, [Insight] F - Grade F - Cooldown 0

Titles: Prime, Prime - Mundane - ed1c24

Hwicce grinned as the words came from Marcus' lips, leaning forward and adding to what was just said. "So you see, because of where the 'accident' took place, there is a bit of a problem. Maybe more than just a 'bit', a moderate problem. Was this carriage booked without a rider of your own respectable company, or was one booked with it?" The mercenary's eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

Actions:
1 - Adding Street Sense F to Marcus' ability.

Marcus’s smile did not convince anyone that he was harmless, but it did something more useful. It sounded reasonable. Hwicce’s addition, meanwhile, carried just enough velvet over the knife to make the point plain.

The clerk’s eyes moved between them, then to the faceplate in Elora’s hand, then briefly to Piero and Gears. That last look was the telling one. Not surprise. Recognition. Calculation.

“One of our coaches being damaged on Calabrese ground would indeed qualify as a moderate problem,” he said at last. “Though records of private bookings are not discussed on the pavement.”

“Cute,” Gears muttered.

The guard with the cigarette shifted his stance. Not reaching. Just reminding everyone he could.

Hwicce’s read on the man was immediate enough. The clerk knew something about carriage fourteen already. Not everything, perhaps, but enough that this was no ordinary found-property conversation anymore.

Piero smiled the way a silk noose might. “Then let us save your pavement the indignity.”

For a moment it looked as though the clerk might refuse on principle alone. Then his gaze flicked once toward the smoked windows behind him, as if measuring who inside might prefer this handled quietly. He stepped aside.

“Very well. Briefly.”

As the doors opened, cool perfumed air spilled out to meet them. Brass Lantern’s lobby was all polished black wood, brass trim, and quiet money. Clerks moved behind a long counter with the forced calm of people who had already noticed trouble and were pretending not to.

The man stopped just inside and turned back to them. “Carriage fourteen was leased last night under a private name. Paid in cash. No company rider requested.”

Piero’s smile thinned.

“And the name?”

The clerk hesitated only a fraction too long.

“Mr. Bell,” he said.

Gears snorted.

“Yeah,” she said. “That sounds fake enough to be expensive.”

Elora agreed with Gears' assessment, the clerk may as well have said the name Mr. E for all the help it gave them. But she kept her composure, calling him out directly would get them nowhere. "And this Mr. Bell gave no identification? No references? Just cash and a request for privacy?" She kept her tone level, not explicitly accusatory, but the implication was there. "Without a company rider then this Mr. Bell would have had to do all the work himself to release the carriage when he returned. Unless, of course, someone here helped him and simply didn't thoroughly inspect the vehicle for damage afterward?"

She let the question hang for just a moment too long, not enough for someone else to begin, but enough to be felt. She then continued, "We don't wish to cause embarrassment for Brass Lantern, but if someone is being reckless in your carriages during midnight joy rides..." She trailed off, hopefully her meaning was obvious.

Marcus felt a wave of both hope and anxiety as the clerk moved aside and allowed them to enter. Did this count as progress or had they simply walked into the jaws of a monster? His eyes looked around as he sized up what might be inside. It looked relatively ordinary compared to things he'd seen in this world. His ghosts were in here somewhere but the spirit medium didn't risk actively searching for them. A glow in his eyes might be enough to spook the security here.

Instead he let out a small sigh of frustration at the clerk's useless answer. "Did this Bell travel alone or did he have people with him? Either when he picked up or dropped off the carriage? Could you, or someone here, at least provide a description of this Mr. Bell? Please?" The last part was added when he realized his tone was a bit sharper than he'd intended.

Actions:
1. Use the ability: Let's be Friends: [Persuasion] F, [Insight] F - Grade F - Cooldown 0

Titles: Prime, Prime - Mundane - ed1c24

The information revealed by the clerk so far felt certainly underwhelming to the mercenary. But with both Elora and Marcus pressing the clerk for more information, Hwicce's attention shifted elsewhere: to their surroundings. He began watching those around them, trying to do a headcount of who he thought could pose 'physical resistance' or danger if things turned south.

Actions:
1 - Using Street Sense F to try and identify possible fighters within the lobby.