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Sunlight plays across your face, as the morning bids you a fond welcome to the new day. You keep your eyes closed, resisting the beckoning of the day in favor of just a bit more sleep. You are accustomed to waking up quite early to tend to Rory's needs, and you are certain you must have overslept.

You turn over, warm under the comforter, wondering what the day will bring, when you hear breathing very close to your face. You crack open one eye and see the peacock, Sanchi-San, in bed with you, looking at you with great interest from approximately one inch away. Bolting upright, you see Galatea and Orlando on the floor near the bed, pecking at the decorative molding.

"Pennyworth!" calls Rory, from his adjoining bedroom. "I say, is there a morning paper I could look at?" He knocks at the connecting door. "I would settle for a croissant. In fact, let's make it two croissants and no paper."

1. "One moment, sir!" I call. "Just getting dressed."

2. "There are large fowl in here, sir!" I say. "Some help would be appreciated."

3. I try to gently lure the birds into a reasonable hiding place.

Don't reply to this post

 

Our Stats:

 

Bold: 77%

Culture: 55%

Intellect: 29%

Observe: 38%

Persuade: 45%

Skullduggery: 39%

Soothing: 22% / Abrasive: 78%  

 

Renown: 82%

Tranquility: 53%

Suspicion: 80%

Invitation: 78%

 

Rory: 73%

Valentine: 6%

Frankincense: 48%

Aunt Primrose: 51%

Col. Firesnuff: 26%

Regina: 61%

Haze: 33%

Mopsie: 0%

 

Ready Monies: 15

REPLY TO THIS POST

1, I guess? Shouting about the birds won't be stealthy, and if Rory doesn't already know they are there we might as well tell him.

1. He might already know anyway, especially if it's another of Mopsie's awful plans. I guess whoever was making the connections between her and the cage got it right, good work!
And if he doesn't, I assume we'll be able to tell him once we get dressed and bring him some good food; perhaps it'll soften the news. Hiding the peacocks might be a wise idea ... but they're dumb birds, and're going to take a shit, make noise, or otherwise fuck it up anyway. If we don't just do it ourselves, like usual.

Option 1- there's no point in shouting about the birds for everyone to hear (never know who's listening anyhow), and Pennyworth isn't soothing (or persuasive?) enough to lure the birds anywhere.

You can hear Rory pacing around in his room impatiently. "I have a good deal on my mind, Pennyworth, and I need some of your patented advice."

"Yes, sir, but…"

"I am having deep thoughts and epiphanies. But they are no use to me without your expert analysis."

1. "I understand, sir, and this is an important conversation, but I wonder if we might have it just a bit later."

2. "To be perfectly honest with you, sir, I am not, in fact, getting dressed. In point of fact I am dealing with some birds at the moment. Could you assist me?"

3. Ignore Rory for the moment in favor of trying to lure the peacocks into the closet.

2. Might as well ask for help.

2. It doesn't sound so much like shouting this time.

3

1. He'd better learn to be patient, damn it! Otherwise, how can he ever be Bat ... oh right, we failed at that. But still.

"To be perfectly honest with you, sir, I am not, in fact, getting dressed. In point of fact I am dealing with some birds at the moment. Could you assist me?"

"It is a bit hard to hear you through this door," Rory says. "But it sounded like you said…"

"I did!" you say. "Can you give me a hand?"

Rory opens the door and leaps in, as if rushing into combat.

The peacocks startle at Rory's entrance and dart around him, into Rory's room, eager to explore someplace new.

"Good heavens," Rory cries. "You were not kidding or exaggerating. I do appreciate your blunt honesty. But why are Auntie's peacocks in your room? What are you doing with them? Where are my croissants? I don't know which question is more important."

"I haven't the faintest idea, sir. Regarding the peacocks."

Rory looks around the room, as if a solution might somehow present itself.

"Do you have any particular instructions regarding these birds, sir?" you ask.

Rory looks at you with an expression that wavers between amusement and confusion before deciding not to worry about it anymore. "I'll assume you have things taken care of in the avian department. I leave it in your capable hands."

"I will sort the situation out, sir."

"Good, good."

"How did Mopsie's scheme—your, ah, mock theft—at the Mudwasps' estate proceed last night? Successful, I hope?" you ask.

"It could not have been less successful. Oh, I stole the loot all right. But then the actual Light-Fingered Lou showed up and lifted the stolen goods from me as I was trying to make my escape. So in the end, all I did was make things a touch easier for Light-Fingered Lou. Aunt Primrose was apoplectic. Ultimately, it was a complete bust. You probably could have done something magnificent, had you been there. What did you end up doing last night? Probably you turned in and had a decent night's sleep."

"Well, sir…"

"Hold on a moment." He goes to the window and flings it open, taking a deep breath of cool morning air. "Bracing, that's the word for it. I do enjoy some cool air. Ah."

"What is on your mind, sir?"

Rory does a few toe-touches and stretches. "What a beautiful day, Pennyworth. The sun is shining, the trees are bursting with color, and the birds are…"

"…are in your bed at the moment, sir."

"Well, yes," Rory says. "Some of them. A minor inconvenience that we shall have to deal with. But the larger point still holds. What a marvelous day to be alive."

"What is the cause of this exuberant mood, sir?"

"I had the most lovely dreams about Frankincense, that's all. I was thinking about how marvelous it will be when we are wed. Before, Pennyworth, I doubted. I saw through a glass darkly, as it were. But now my eyes are open. I would like to compose a poem to her at once or write a song, or do something with terra-cotta." He makes a complex motion with his hands.

1. I would advise to you 'play it cool,' sir, as young folks are prone to saying these days."

2. "I would be more than happy to assist you in creating an appropriate token of affection."

3. "I cannot help sensing a certain ambivalence beneath your exuberant exterior, sir."

 

 

Tough, since there is no neutral option. So I will pick 2 just because I want to see how hilariously bad this gift turns out.

"I would be more than happy to assist you in creating an appropriate token of affection."

"Excellent, excellent!" says Rory. "Because it seems like a great deal of energy. Perhaps I could commission one from you, and I could, you know, sign off on it. Like in that Cyrano play we were forced to go to by Auntie."

"It didn't work out so well in that particular case, if you recall. Then again, I believe you fell asleep during Act I," you remind him.

"Yes, yes, sporting," Rory says, not listening to you one bit. "Won't she be delighted? When all this excitement is over, we'll find something appropriate. I think that is what is done."

"Good morning, Rory," comes Frankincense's voice, sounding quite chirpy. She knocks on Rory's door and starts to turn the knob. "Are you in? I've been knocking, and I heard talking, and your door is ajar, so I thought I would…"

Frankincense steps in and sees the birds standing on Rory's bed. She puts both hands to her mouth.

"Good…good morning, Frankincense," says Rory.

"I cannot believe that you did this for me," Frankincense says to Rory.

"How's that?" Rory says.

"You knew that I longed to have those poor birds free. And you took it upon yourself to free them, when everyone else turned away. You are a hero, Rory Wintermint. You risked—indeed, still risk—a lengthy prison sentence in order to give me the gift I most desire. Thank you, Rory. I thank you from the bottom of my heart.  Rory, I love you even better than ever, if such a thing is possible. There may have been moments when I doubted your seriousness—your commitment to our joining together as one. But now I realize what I meant to you. Never before—never—has anyone made such a gesture for me. I have often felt as if nobody understood me, that I fight the good fight alone. Now I see in you a partner. Someone to struggle with, to go through privations with, and, if necessary, to face the gallows together in the service of truth and justice. You are one in a million, Rory. My father thought I was insane to choose you. He will have to eat those words."

Rory opens his mouth to reply and leaves it open, as if hoping that the correct response will fly out of its own accord.

"I could not be more pleased to be engaged to you, Rory."

1. "In point of fact, I must intercede here. Mr. Wintermint did not bring the peacocks in here. The situation is mysterious to us."

2. "I, of course, was responsible for bringing the peacocks into the room. Not Mr. Wintermint."

3. "Yes, Mr. Wintermint accomplished great deeds last night. I personally witnessed his heroism in getting the peacocks here."

Option 1

They're already engaged, we don't have to go out of our way to make her like him. And we're juggling enough deceptions here already, plus we may need help in getting them moved.

I mean, she can still set them all free if she really wants, I imagine they'll wander back to their pen at feeding time. But they just really can't be in our bedroom.

3?

1, best not to lie. And good - my Mopsie peacock theory hasn't been completely ruined, yet.

 

And, really Rory? How lazy. You were the one who said you wanted to make something.

"In point of fact, I must intercede here. Mr. Wintermint did not bring the peacocks in here. The situation is mysterious to us."

"That's right," Rory says. "While I would love to take credit for this, ah, marvelous deed, I cannot."

"You…didn't do it? Is this modesty?"

"I'm afraid not," you say. "You may trust me. We were both quite surprised this morning."

"Oh." Frankincense's face falls. "Then I did not misjudge you completely. You are the man that I thought you were.  I mentioned to you more than once that I wished you to do something about those birds.  So you did not do this."

"I wouldn't go that far about my being the man you think I am.  And I don't recall you telling me to do something about those birds," Rory says. "If you are referring to our discussion of last night where you went on and on about those blasted birds, then, yes, I suppose, perhaps that is...well, dash it, Frankincense.  I don't want to have it out again.   I thought there were a few points where you might have judged me just a tad harshly."

"I am…very disappointed," Frankincense says. "But I don't want to argue.  Good morning."

"Good morning," you say.

At precisely this moment, you hear a commotion in the hallway. You peek out of Rory's door and hear Carlington calling, in a resonant baritone, that all of the guests ought to come down to the parlor.

"This is far from the way Aunt Primrose usually does things," says Rory. "Usually she allots several hours in the morning for lolling about and then a late and large meal. She is not one for rousting her guests out of bed at the crack of…what time is it, Pennyworth?"

"Half past nine, sir."

You can hear Carlington's voice on the second floor now, knocking on doors, and escorting guests outside.

"I wonder what the unusual urgency is," Rory says. "Probably some soufflé that must be served at once."

The peacocks screech as you depart. "We'll be back," you say.

"Be good," says Rory. "Pennyworth, after breakfast, we really must put those birds back where they belong. They have already untidied my bedclothes."

"Right after breakfast," you say.

You lock up the door to the Wintermint GHQ and head downstairs, where a grim-faced footman points you towards the parlor. Mopsie is standing near the door to the parlor, adjusting her hair in the mirror. Aunt Primrose's help is rushing to and fro, looking far busier than typical for this time of day.

1. "Good morning, Mopsie. You are looking rather smart this morning."

2. "What is all this commotion about?" I ask a passing servant.

3. I turn to Rory, attending to his needs.

 

Dang, trouble in Paradise already, maybe we should've let Rory take credit.

Option 2 seems important.

I'm guessing the others are a last minute chance to raise relationships with those characters, but it doesn't seem to be needed.

3. We're a good servant, after all.
And this comotion is likely about those birds. So, let's not even ask about it, lest that somehow draw attention to us.

3. Best to act as natural and invisible as possible.

I turn to Rory, attending to his needs.

"I am certainly going to need to be braced with a beverage before facing the assembled crowd in the parlor," Rory says, sinking into a chair in the foyer.

You produce a steaming cup of tea on a tray, next to a croissant and the morning paper. "I believe this was what you requested," you say.

"Y-yes!" Rory looks delighted and takes a long draught of the delightfully smoky Lapsang souchong tea you have presented to him—Rory's favorite. Mopsie looks at the croissant covetously, and Rory breaks off a cousinly corner of it for her, and then another.

"I didn't even see you fetch this, Pennyworth. That was well done."

"Tish-tosh, sir. It is my practice to ensure that your needs are well taken care of. Think nothing of it."

"It must be very distracting to try to serve Rory when I am here looking so fetching," Mopsie says to you, sounding miffed that you have not praised her yet. "There is a certain dazzling effect."

"Yes, very nice indeed, Mopsie."

"Hmph."

You and Rory allow yourselves to be herded into the parlor, where Frankincense, Haze, Col. Firesnuff, and a very flustered-looking Aunt Primrose sit on various chairs and divans. Mopsie follows close behind you and plops down on the piano bench. Col. Firesnuff is reading the newspaper aloud to nobody and pointing to an article about some gang of delinquent children called the Ragamuffins who live on a nearby river island and appear to eat nothing but bread. "And that is why this country needs someone like me in office," he concludes smugly, folding the newspaper and nodding.

"I think it's terrible," says Frankincense, quietly.

Carlington stands at attention next to Regina Wilhelmina just right of Aunt Primrose.

"Everyone here, then?" says Inspector Ambrose. You turn to see him perched on a tall stool, up on a raised dais at the back of the parlor, overlooking everyone else. Two burly police officers flank him.

"Why don't you go search the rooms for those stolen peacocks now that everyone is here?" Inspector Ambrose says to his police escort. Rory turns to look at you, aghast.

"Yes, sir," the officers say, and they start to head for the exit.

You simply mustn't allow them to find Galatea, Sanchi-San, and Orlando in Rory's room!

Options flash through your mind. You could run out of the room, beating them there, remove the birds, and hide them elsewhere. That would be simple and effective, but surely Inspector Ambrose would notice you exiting and make him rather suspicious.

You might quietly mislead the officers so they find themselves wandering through the east wing for a while. That would buy you some time, but they might realize later that you were being deceitful.

Best of all would be for Aunt Primrose to insist that tea be served to the officers. But that would require you to convince her that social niceties are important even in a time when her prize peacocks have gone missing, which might be difficult and fluster her further.

1. I appeal to Aunt Primrose's sense of gracious hospitality: "Mrs. Patterson, surely these officers would like a cup of tea before getting to work."

2. I direct the officers in the wrong direction to the guest rooms with a cunning lie.

3. I bolt out of the parlor and beat the officers to Rory's room.

 

Option 1.

It is beyond the pale that these fine gentlemen have not been served a cup of tea. Tea with biscuits. And crumpets.

1. We did just get tea for Rory and it's the least suspicious. Perhaps Frankincense will step in to help, as well, since she knows the birds are in Rory's room. Although she's made he didn't steal them on her behalf.

Random thoughts:

Mopsie hates us again, for failing to compliment her! So wishy-washy.

Firesnuff is running for office! Reminds me of the character in Jeeves and Wooster, Spode, who had delusions of being a fascist dictator - wanted men to wear shorts and everyone to grow potatoes, or something odd like that. (He had a rather fun and unexpected secret which rather dented his intimidation factor. Too bad we never got to see inside Firesnuff's briefcase...)

Also, what are the odds that the last chapter (or this one) has the boat race, and we end up stumbling across the river island with the Ragamuffins?

I appeal to Aunt Primrose's sense of gracious hospitality: "Mrs. Patterson, surely these officers would like a cup of tea before getting to work."

"Perhaps we ought to have tea served," you suggest to Aunt Primrose. "Those police officers seemed a bit peckish."

She turns to you testily, wringing a handkerchief in both hands. "My prize peacocks, the jewels of my collection, have been stolen, and you come to talk to me about tea?" She throws the handkerchief to the ground and gnashes her teeth at you.

"But surely some thought for social niceties…"

"Let me tell you about social niceties. When I find the villain who made off with my birds I will have them passed thrice through a meat grinder, made into a pâté, and served with hard-cooked eggs and cornichons at a festive picnic for one and all. Does that answer your question?"

"Y-es, I believe so. Perhaps I'll just go pop down to the kitchen and help out without disturbing you further."

"Go, then. I don't care."

You run out of the room, heading upstairs, walking past the officers, who are searching Mopsie's room.

You open Rory's door and find the three birds sitting in one of Rory's suitcases, no doubt playing some sort of pretend game.

"Perfect," you say. "I beg your pardon; this will be just be a minor inconvenience." You fasten the suitcase and lift it up. It is rather heavy, and some squeaks and trills of protest ensue from inside the suitcase as you rush out of the room.

You run into the two police officers in the hallway.

"What are you doing with that?" one of them says, pointing to the suitcase.

"I'm making tea," you say. "Mrs. Patterson expressly sent me to do so."

"With a suitcase? Upstairs?"

1. "Yes. It is an invention of my own. I am always thinking of brilliant inventions."

2. "This suitcase is where I keep baked goods. You may rest easy. There is no cause for alarm, gentlemen."

3. I act as if this were the most natural thing in the world to be doing. "Of course. How do you make tea?"

1. Seems doable. Also like 3, but sticking with 1.

3. Pennyworth is usually terrible at normal bluffing, but that one is potentially abrasive enough it might work. And, we indirectly get the backing of Mrs. Patterson since we claimed she was the one to send us to make tea.

Also, how did that end up with us holding a briefcase full of peafowl...

I hope this means we get to frame someone, like Firesnuff or Haze or that servant guy who tried to extort us. Too bad framing Mopsie (if that's even 'framing' when she likely did it) is off of the table at this point. And framing Frankinscense wouldn't work since she can link the peacocks to us.

Option 3

Because I bet they don't. Not often enough to question a professional butler on his professional tea making, anyway.

Does Mopsie just seesaw back and forth from zero to a hundred? I'm guessing, if playing strategically, it's fine to just let her continue hating us right up until the last choice where it matters, wherever that is.

It might have mattered last chapter. She liked us for riding the banister and whispering whoopie, and pointed out the spare key for us. Maybe we would have taken it, regardless, but it seemed like a bonus.
 

Yeah, there's a lot of checks for your relationship with Mopsie, and depending on where she likes and doesn't like you, you are helped and hindered in various ways throughout.

Oh, also, @mizal, could you remove Camelon's reply to my "please don't reply to this post" post above?

bad Camelon

I act as if this were the most natural thing in the world to be doing. "Of course. How do you make tea?"

"It seems to me that your talk of tea is meant to conceal some darker purpose," says one of the officers, scratching his head and fingering his billy club with purpose.

"I suspect," says the other, "that you are using talk of tea in order to provide cover for your presence upstairs, toting a mysterious suitcase, whilst the two of us here up here attempting to search for winged contraband. Then you come here removing something and attempting to talk your way out in a fairly feeble way."

"That's about the sum of it," says the first officer. "It seems like the kind of situation we were trained for by Inspector Ambrose. We've put the clues together, and the picture becomes increasingly clear."

Rory's voice, bellowed up from downstairs, breaks the tense moment. "Pennyworth, ah, I know you are bringing down tea. From upstairs. So, please, be quick about it. And don't forget the croissants."

The officers look at you.

"There, you see, officers? All is on the up and up. If you'll excuse me." You effect a tone of wounded pride.

"I suppose tea is your purpose, after all. We may have misjudged you," says the first officer. "Go on then."

"I'm looking forward to the croissants," says the second. "I assume that's what's in the suitcase. Perhaps I ought to just take a peek."

"No, they are still cooling," you say.

"Hm."

"If there is nothing else?…no?" you say. "Good morning."

You walk by them, downstairs, and then quickly out the door with the suitcase.

At first you think that you will simply return the three birds to their pen, or possibly ditch them elsewhere, but by now the area of the pen, and the house at large, is simply crawling with police officers. You cast about wildly, and then you have it. You'll simply walk to the old boathouse. It is large enough for the birds to run around in happily, and there will be people in there later today to prepare the rowboat for the Harvest Festival race—they'll find the peacocks and return them safely to Aunt Primrose.

Best of all, there don't seem to be any police wandering around in that vicinity, so you amble across the property and to the boathouse, near where the Woodland Stream comes onto Aunt Primrose's property.

You peek in a window. Nobody there. The rowboat sits proudly against one wall, up on sawhorses, awaiting the race later today.

All great boats have names, and this boat's name is blazoned proudly across the side.

1. Choice of Rowboats

2. It's Keeling Time

3. Tin Starboard

4. The Wholly Wood Visionary

5. Gunwales of Infinity

6. The Sturdy Streampunt

7. A Wise Use of Pine

8. Punt of the River

9. Life of a Lobster

10. Oars of Aswick

11. The Eagle's Oar

12. The Paddle Throne

13. Ratings Wharf

14. Flounder's Saga: The Sculling

15. Reef's Gambit

16. Welcome to Oar Town

17. Pair of Ducks Factor

18. Tide High

19. Avatar of the Gulf

20. The Hero Unmasted

21. Choice of the Deckless

22. The Drydock's Riddle

23. Jetty Patrol Officer

24. Diamant Rows

25. Her Oars Rise

26. The Lake Erie Agent

27. Swampy Exodus

28. Seaman's Lark

29. Tar Captain

30. The Rower Behind the Moon

31. Rammed!

32. Wayfares of the Port

33. The Lost Oar III

34. Trials of the Reef Breaker

35. Champion of the Cod

36. Skiff Made Defective

37. Diabolic Keel

38. Broadsides 1849

39. The Rowed to Canterbury

40. Underwater Agent

41. Silver Whirlpool

42. The Row Project: Open Seas

43. Leeches Such As We

44. Platinum Wreckage

45. The Daily Lacksail

46. Choice of Ripples

47. The Yawl of Memphis

48. The Shipkeepers of Hallowford

49. Gilded Whales

50. Sparkling Waters

51. Fair Gulfs of Haven

52. High Spray Oars

53. I shall create my own name.

Im dying lol

53. SS INFINITY

Excuse me, I think you mean CYS Eternal.

....that's a lotta references. I don't actually get more if them, so put me down for Gunwhales of Infinity, unless somebody comes up with a funny enough custom one to make me change my vote.

53. PB Jellyfish

I love this.

5. Gunwhales of Infinity, after the epic battle, of course.

But Shipkeepers of Hallowford and A Wise Use of Pine are fine options, as well.

With absolutely no chance of it winning, I will vote 53. The Batmobile

You look upon Gunwales of Infinity fondly, thinking of the several outings you and Rory have had in it. It used to be a sort of dull gray and cream, without the least attention to beauty. You recall Aunt Primrose asking you last month whether you would assist her by designing Gunwales of Infinity's decoration for the race. Traditionally, everyone goes all out in their decorations, and therefore, you decided upon…

1…an attractive pastel palette, well suiting the boat's grace and attractiveness.

2…an image of a brutal barbarian riding a dragon, befitting the boat's size and sturdiness.

3…a pirate ship motif meant to bolster its crew's morale.

4…an intellectually challenging abstract painting in stunning shades of red, orange, and yellow, designed to arouse bursts of energy in the crew.

 

2. With how we've been going about things we'll need a very sturdy boat to survive our schenanigans.

…an image of a brutal barbarian riding a dragon, befitting the boat's size and sturdiness.

The boat is painted with an image of a muscular and fur-clad barbarian warrior riding a bright green, fire-breathing, two-headed dragon. The barbarian holds a mighty runed broadsword with one hand and a grail made out of diamonds in the other. The grail is topped with purple flames.

"Do you really think that is the appropriate decoration?" asked Aunt Primrose. "I don't really know what sort of style is fashionable for rowboats these days. But this one seems rather fringe."

"Mrs. Patterson, this painting is awesome. As in, the art will awe all assembled."

"Hm! If you say so, Pennyworth."

You open the suitcase, letting the disgruntled birds out. They stretch their wings, and set about exploring the boathouse. They should be perfectly safe here for the time being.

Now you simply must get back to the parlor at once before Inspector Ambrose notices that you are missing.

Closing the doors of the boathouse firmly, you stow the suitcase behind a bush to retrieve later, and then trot back to the house. You carefully slip inside the foyer just as Inspector Ambrose pokes his head out the door of the parlor.

"Won't you join us?" Inspector Ambrose says sweetly, motioning into the parlor with an obsequious bow with a two-handed flourish.

"Of course," you say. "I was just waiting until you felt it was appropriate to join you."

"Naturally you were!" laughs Inspector Ambrose. "You would not have been doing anything wrong. I have not the least doubt that you were right out here in the foyer."

He motions you into the parlor again, and you find a seat next to Rory; he looks at you with questioning eyes. You give him a subtle nonverbal signal that clearly indicates that "the peafowl have been safely stowed away," and he relaxes slightly.

Inspector Ambrose sits on his tall stool, just in front of the toasty fire, and pulls out his copy of Wilkie Collins's novel The Moonstone. His bookmark is right at the very end of the novel. "I just have ten more pages to read," he says. "You may talk amongst yourselves while I finish." He absorbs himself in his mystery, following the lines with his finger and making satisfied sounds like "Hah!" and "So I suspected!" as he reads.

The two burly police officers once again flank him, and read over his shoulder.

"Where is that tea, Pennyworth?" Aunt Primrose says, crossing her arms. "I thought you went out to bring up the tea ages ago."

"Did I?" you say. "Ah yes. I did. I can't imagine what the delay is. Hm! What poor service on the part of your kitchen staff."

Aunt Primrose frowns deeply.

"We were really looking forward to it," says the first officer to you. "I do hope it will be along soon. I could eat a whole suitcase worth of scones."

"That is a strange expression," says Inspector Ambrose mildly. "And yet I think I have a sense of why you uttered it. Yes, indeed. But I just want to finish this last bit before commencing in earnest on what is sure to be a memorable conversation."

He looks up at you and smiles.

1. "I am looking forward to hearing what you have to say, sir."

2. I sit quietly and a bit skeptically, uncertain about this whole affair.

3. "It's rather surprising about Mr. Murthwaite there in the last chapter, isn't it? One would not have guessed it."

1. Pennyworth is too bold to be skeptical.

Option 1- it suits Pennyworth's bold nature the best.

3. We're cultured enough that we just might know the book. Also, if we do, and he hasn't found otu whatever this is out yet, we can spoil it. And that'd be delightful.

Option 3: I stand with Mayana on this, while intellect is not quite up there, perhaps Pennyworth's culture will get us over the line. Not sure if we want to be on the Inspector's bad side at this particular juncture, but what's life if Pennyworth can't live for the little things?

3. Changing the subject doesn't hurt

3. Yeah, we need to rattle his cage haha!

Option 3, just to be a dick.

"Mrs. Patterson, this painting is awesome."

I laughed.

"It's rather surprising about Mr. Murthwaite there in the last chapter, isn't it? One would not have guessed it."

Inspector Ambrose looks down at the page he is on, and then looks up at you.

"I'm not quite up to that bit," he says.

"Oh!" you say. "I thought you'd gotten to the part where he sees the jewel. In India."

"Stop that."

1. "I'm terribly sorry, sir," I say.

2. "Surely now that we are all assembled, you might conclude your novel later."

3. "But you have gotten to the part where it is revealed that the three mysterious foreigners were agents of the temple, right?"

Option 3

Obviously.

Option 1. I must take exception to option 3! We've had our fun with the poor inspector, now it's getting downright degenerate and immoral. We should not encourage a culture of torture and sadism - even completely fictional characters have a right to freedom from spoilers.

1. People who spoil books should join those in the special hell. Plus, I think we managed to increase our suspicion several points, though that might have been an earlier boost I ovetlooked.

3. Because eh, who cares! Our suspission's already quite high, and this guy doesn't like us in the slightest. Because of that, he's going to find out what we've been up to soon, no doubt. Let's have some fun until then.

"But you have gotten to the part where it is revealed that the three mysterious foreigners were agents of the temple, right?"

His eyes glint menacingly at you and his knuckles go white where they are clutching his book. "Silence, silence at once, Pennyworth," he says. "That is most unkind."

He returns to his reading. "And also I had long ago deduced that," he mutters.

--

Frankincense walks over to Rory, a small smile on her face, and perches in a chair at his side. The two of them talk quietly, and take each other's hand as they speak.

They laugh a bit, and weep a bit, and then smiles break forth as if through clouds.

Finally, Frankincense and Rory kiss lightly, and you know it is certain: Rory and Frankincense will wed. That, then, is how it must be.

--

Regina Wilhelmina leans over to you. "I spoke to Trina about your mission last night," she whispers.

"Oh?"

"It seems that you have managed to really impress Trina. I'm not sure how you did it, but you did it. No candidate has ever managed to work with her so well and be quite so successful. Indeed, when I spoke with her on the phone, she told me that she was eager to work with you again sometime in the future."

"That was most kind of her to say. It was indeed a rather successful night."

Regina glances at the woven red and amber bracelet just visible under your cuff. "I see she has given you a token of friendship."

"Yes. She was, perhaps, a bit skeptical of me when I first met her, but we learned to work well together."

"Your ability to work as a team impresses me a good deal," Regina says. "Now, I probably don't need to say this, but I shall. If Inspector Ambrose starts asking difficult questions about last night, leave Trina out of it. Be discreet. Naturally."

"Naturally."

Inspector Ambrose closes his book and clears his throat. He scans the room slowly from side to side, taking you all in. "I'm sure you are wondering why I have asked you all here today. Yes, indeed. All of you, here in the parlor, the morning after some terrible crimes have been committed. There was a break-in at the neighbors' house last night, but more importantly, Mrs. Patterson's prize peacocks have been stolen—stolen!—from their secure pen. They may be on the black market for exotic birds even as we speak."

Aunt Primrose chokes back a sob.

"But who could have done such a thing?" says Inspector Ambrose, a look of mock horror on his face, pressing his palms to his cheeks and making an O of his mouth for a moment. He looks down at you all from his tall stool. "I can now reveal that Light-Fingered Lou, the sneak thief who has gotten so much notoriety of late was on the property last night. And, in fact, Light-Fingered Lou robbed the neighboring residence last evening. Yes, you may well gasp!"

He rocks back and forth, delighted.

"At long last, Light-Fingered Lou has chosen to match wits with me. Light-Fingered Lou was in the neighbors' house, and Mrs. Patterson's peacocks are gone. It does not take a genius to deduce that Light-Fingered Lou stole the birds. All of the clues point in this direction." He removes his "CLUES" notebook and a small envelope labeled "EVIDENCE" from his breast pocket and brandishes them.

What are you doing while Inspector Ambrose speaks?

1. I am listening attentively, nodding at all the right places.

2. I cross my arms, with a clear show of skepticism.

3. I nod comfortingly at Aunt Primrose.

 

 

I would say 1 or 3. Leaning more to 3 though. BUT are we too abrasive to pull off a comforting nod?

Hmm...

2. Changing to 2. It's more amusing, and unless someonr comes across the Peacock's they are still there,  not on the black market, so the Inspector will at some point look silly. We can hope. 

Option 2

We're the only one on the Inspector's level, he'll appreciate our penetrating mind.

Good point. Maybe we can make others doubt his narrative, as well, since its very doubtful Light Fingered Lou put peacocks in our room unless it was some sort of revenge thing. I still think Mopsie is the most likely suspect behind that one.

 

Although Pennyworth lost what little intellect he had, probably with that barbarian painting....

Who need to be smart when you can make people believe anything you say through sheer force of will?

And if that doesn't work just break their kneecaps.

1. We're suspicious enough as is

I cross my arms, with a clear show of skepticism.

"I understand if you, like Pennyworth, do not yet see things my way." Here he points to you. "You will not be convinced by mere rhetoric. You wish for proof. I understand. Indeed I do. But an open mind, if you please." He smiles at you.

You do not smile back.

"This is boring," moans Mopsie. "Get on with it."

"Very well," says Inspector Ambrose. "I would first like to reveal that the person who committed this nefarious crime, and a number of other assorted wicked deeds, is in this room as we speak."

"Uproar! Consternation!" shouts Col. Firesnuff.

"No, it can't be!" says Mopsie, her curls boinging violently in every direction.

Aunt Primrose looks as though she is going to pass out when Inspector Ambrose holds up his hand for silence.

"I considered everyone carefully," says Inspector Ambrose. "Everyone, at first, appeared to be a suspect, with secrets and hidden identities. But in the end, there was only one obvious candidate.

"At first, I considered you, Mr. Wintermint, or you, Colonel Firesnuff, if you will excuse me, or even you, Miss Cygnet-Signet. But then I realized that I was on the wrong track."

Inspector Ambrose jumps off his stool, placing his notebook and EVIDENCE envelope down on it. Then he marches over to Haze. "Indeed, I thought for a moment that it was you, Hazel! Isn't that absurd?"

"Rather," says Haze. "Though exciting. Frankly, I'm a little disappointed."

"You make your little joke," says Inspector Ambrose, wagging a finger at her playfully, and then suddenly whirling around and viciously jabbing his finger directly at you.

"Pennyworth?" says Rory.

"Yes, Pennyworth!" says Inspector Ambrose, his voice rising to a fever pitch, all joviality gone from his voice. "You are Light-Fingered Lou, criminal extraordinaire and miscreant who will terrorize England no longer. You have grown quite infamous. I have no doubt that your sorry visage will grace the cover of many a periodical tomorrow morning."

"What scandal!" says Aunt Primrose. "Rory, you simply must let him go at once."

1. I gasp and shout, "No, no! I am innocent! You must believe me!"

2. I maintain a completely neutral expression and say, "Indeed, sir?"

3. I slam my fist on a table and roar, "You have it all wrong, Inspector!"

4. I look at Inspector Ambrose askance, almost pitying his dim-wittedness.

Askance is such a good word, let's go with that.

4. Though I do want to see how 3 would go

Option 4 seems like it will increase Pennyworth's intelligence tremendously, but not saying anything might come across as an admission of guilt... will go with it anyhow.

2. I doubt Pennyworth can carry it off, but it's funny. Really, any of them but 1 would be good.

I look at Inspector Ambrose askance, almost pitying his dim-wittedness.

"You look at me in a rather vexing way," Inspector Ambrose says. "One would be tempted to call it the look of one who dares to match wits with me. Let me assure you that the most brilliant of criminal masterminds have sharpened their mental blades to outwit me, and all of them have been imprisoned. The Baron von Burglary? Imprisoned. The Mad Arsonist Triplets? Imprisoned, all three of them. Pinstripe Harry, the American gangster—well, you know what happened to him when we met. Need I go on? Let me elucidate my evidence against you in the manner of the very best literary detectives."

"Let me begin." He picks up his CLUES notebook and thumbs through it. "First of all, I would like to observe that Pennyworth, directly disobeying orders, was prowling around late last night when everyone else here was tucked away in sleep. One wonders what surreptitious objective you had that had to be carried out under cover of night. It is a curious thing. That alone, I suspect, would be grounds for being removed from Ritornello or being chastised by your professional accrediting society. What is more…"

Inspector Ambrose turns to Col. Firesnuff and nods to him. "Colonel Firesnuff observed you upstairs, yesterday, I believe, suspiciously holding what he has realized may have been a painting canvas."

"I couldn't place it at the time. But it was definitely a balled-up canvas. And Pennyworth was acting a bit suspicious. Didn't want me to see what was going on," says Col. Firesnuff. "I'm sure of it."

1. I explain how Figs's painting was the cause of my suspicious behavior.

2. I claim that I was only following Rory's instructions.

3. I make no attempt to excuse my behavior, confident that I will be cleared.

Option 1

No reason to cover for Figs when Moxie already hates us.

1. Might as well be truthful where we can.

I explain how Figs's painting was the cause of my suspicious behavior.

"I can see how you could think I was acting suspiciously," you say. "It is rather funny."

You quickly explain to Inspector Ambrose how Figs gave you his horrible painting, and all of the misunderstandings that followed. Aunt Primrose makes a number of "Hm!" sounds and Col. Firesnuff grumbles something about modern art.

Mopsie interrupts several dozen times trying to ensure that Inspector Ambrose understands that Figs works in a number of original media, including wax crayons.

By the end of your story, Inspector Ambrose shakes his head. "That is a fine story, Pennyworth. A truly fine story. You ought to write it up and send it to a periodical. You could probably get a ha'penny a word. But I am far from convinced. In point of fact, I now suspect that this 'Figs' character may be one of your accomplices. What a load of bunk you have fed us all."

He makes a "hm," sound, and paces up and down the room.  "Ah, now we come to physical evidence. Let me see." Inspector Ambrose gazes around the room, and then strides directly in front of you.

"There are any number of bits of evidence that I have accumulated. Any one of them is troubling. Together, they are absolutely damning. We need not go into every detail of my very strong case. I offer but a sampling. Most importantly, you have a small trace of peacock feather on your arm. It is minuscule, but it does not escape my notice." He snaps up the bit of fluff on your arm with a sudden lunge of a tweezers and holds it up for all to see. "You were illegally transporting the stolen peacocks this morning, I see. Do you deny it?"

1. "Of course I deny it! I haven't been anywhere near them."

2. "Oh, this is an old shirt. I haven't done laundry for a while, and that bit of feather must be from ages ago. Possibly from one of Mrs. Patterson's feather-topped hats."

3. "I admit that I did move the birds, but I am not Light-Fingered Lou."

2. We neither confirm nor deny haha!

Option 2?

I hate admitting to not doing laundry. People will wonder what kind of butler we even are.

Option 2, although Ambrose is definitely not going to believe us whichever choice we pick, I think

3. Cause we won't be believed wither way, might as well be honest. Besides, what's bolder than throwing out an answer that in no way helps your case.

"Oh, this is an old shirt. I haven't done laundry for a while, and that bit of feather must be from ages ago. Possibly from one of Mrs. Patterson's feather-topped hats."

"I don't have a peacock feather-topped hat. I mean, when I was a much younger woman, perhaps. But I don't know what Pennyworth could be referring to."

"It is an attempt at obfuscation: nothing more," says Inspector Ambrose genteelly. "My rough estimation is that this feather is no older than two hours old. I am not an expert in estimating bird feather ages, but we have people at the station house who are. We will get to the root of this shortly."

"Now, Inspector," you begin.

"There is no need for this," he says, kindly.  "This is all, really, a matter of form.  You know perfectly well there is an eyewitness whom you punched in, I believe, the back of the head last night.  You assaulted two servants.  No doubt you were attempting to cover your tracks.  I have statements.  But let me ponder.  Could you--could there be any world in which I am wrong about you?  Let me ponder for a moment to ensure that I am one-hundred-percent certain that I am arresting the correct person."

Inspector Ambrose thinks for a very long time. Finally, he looks up, shaking his head. "No. It is senseless to attempt to throw smoke in an attempt to obscure the culprit. I know that it was you, Pennyworth. And you shall be arrested forthwith."

"It's always the one you least expect," says Col. Firesnuff. "Although in this case, I did expect that it would be Pennyworth."

The parlor erupts into hubbub and consternation.

Although Rory and Aunt Primrose put up a great fuss, including raised voices and vehement disagreement, Inspector Ambrose will not be moved.

"The truth is always painful, of course," he says, very gently.

You are guided out of the parlor by the firm hand of Inspector Ambrose on your shoulder and transported via police van for processing at Woodland Centre's Police Station. We need not go into the various sordid details of fingerprinting and forms that have to be filled out. Suffice to say that an hour later, you are ensconced in one of the holding cells on the ground floor of the police station awaiting trial. The atmosphere at the police station is festive, as most of the officers are looking forward to the Harvest Festival, particularly the boat race. Several of the officers discuss boating tactics and hotly contest the odds.

Inspector Ambrose is kind and mild to you, inquiring whether you need anything. He is in a positively jubilant mood as he closes the door of your cell and pockets the key. "Please do not hesitate to inquire if there is anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable," he says grandly, before departing, leaving you no way to make such an inquiry.

And so the scope of this narrative, which once spread across the London's metropolitan wonders to the bucolic fields and forests of Ritornello, has shrunk to a five foot by five foot cell with but a narrow barred window allowing you a generous slice of sky, a cot, and sundry sanitary accommodations.

The question then, is this: What do you do for the next five minutes until the means for your escape presents itself to you?

1. I sigh and gaze at the sky through the barred window.

2. I ignore my surroundings and do sit-ups.

3. I search the cell for loose bricks or secret clues carved into the wall, as so often is the case when the protagonist is in jail.

4. I slump down by the air grate and say "How dreadful to be here, alone!"

2. Let's get back in boxing form.

2. No need to escape, they should find the birds soon enough. But a workout before the race is a good plan.

 

3. It might increase our observe. And there's a te description of the choice breaks the 4th wall slightly. So clearly it's the best one.

I ignore my surroundings and do sit-ups.

You have to stay tough on the inside, you reflect. You cannot grow soft, lest you become a target. You do ten sit-ups.

1. I pick the lock of my cell using a lockpick built from a bedspring, and then sneak out of the police station, passing like a whisper in the night.

2. I do the old "feign illness, and then when the guard comes to help me overpower him and then run off" gag.

3. I hope against hope that someone will come and rescue me, a risky strategy best saved for last and only in case of dire emergency.

4. I hear a guard approaching.

4. Why would he try to escape? That would just make him look guilty. Plus, it's nice and quiet in here, with no crazy people asking us to do wierd things.

I hear a guard approaching.

Through the bars of your cell you see a menacing police officer with thick, greasy black hair and a number of red scars crisscrossing his face, including one that sweeps across his pitted nose and over his wandering left eye. He looks over his shoulder a few times, then approaches you.

"I'm Deputy Hardcastle. I bet you want to get out of there, eh?" He gives a low, raspy laugh that turns into hacking up a bit of phlegm, which he spits on the floor, and then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

1. I regard him with narrowed eyes.

2. "I beg your pardon, sir?"

3. "I'm listening."

 

2. 1 would also be good, and appropriate, but we need to do some more butlery-esque things.

Option 2- let's at least act a bit more butler-like for the time being.

"I beg your pardon, sir?"

"Don't 'sir' me. Do I look like a sir to you?" He steps closer to you. His breath is redolent with chewing tobacco and spicy mustard.

 

1. "Sir?"

2. "Sorry, no. 'Deputy,' I should have said. I apologize, with all due respect."

3. "In point of fact, you look rather a ruffian."

2. I suppose. Seems least likely to annoy him further.

Option 3

He'll appreciate us getting to the point, and do likewise.

My being jailed experience was totally different, and the end of this chapter was where I stopped playing because I wanted to be surprised when the thread got to it, so I'm playing as blindly as the rest of you by this point.

3.

"In point of fact, you look rather a ruffian."

"No one rougher than me," he says, pointing to his muscular arms, and flexing them. "So maybe you'll listen carefully when I talk instead of saying 'sir' to me. There was a time I would have given you rather hard words for calling me 'sir.' Then I joined the police. Respectable, see?"

He straightens his deputy jacket and manages to get a greasy black stain on it in the process.

You refrain from comment.

"Now listen up. You'll see if I'm a ruffian. I'm about to offer you the deal of a lifetime. Maybe if you play your cards right, you can be out of here and on your way."

"Go on, then," you say.

"Listen, and listen good, all right, Pennyworth, or Light-Fingered Lou, I guess."

"Pennyworth is fine," you clarify.

He gets a devious look, and then goes on. "Ambrose has been obsessed with this case, and he's getting on my nerves. I was next in line for Inspector, not him. He's all fingerprints and clues, not at all my style of police work. And now that he's arrested you, he's really going to be insufferable."

He peels a strip of gray paint off the wall and tosses it on the ground. "Anyhow, let's get you out of here."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because it will annoy Ambrose. And in addition, I want you to ensure that the Benevolent Policemen's Association boat wins the race this afternoon. I know that you have the ear of Primrose Patterson. You make sure not only that her boat loses, but you run interference for any other boat that looks like it could beat the police boat. I have a lot of money riding on this race, and this is just the edge I need."

1. "You mean cheat?" I say, gasping.

2. "I'm sorry, but no deal. I won't betray Mrs. Patterson's team."

3. "All right. I'm in."

Do we *have* to escape? Admittedly, it would be nice to make the boat race. And Ambrose definitely has the wrong guy. But shady deals and throwing the race do not sound like the way to do it.

2.

Option 2. Don't think Pennyworth has the shady skills necessary for this kind of skullduggery.

Option 2- Pennyworth's skullduggery stats are terrible, and who knows what consequences breaking out would have?

"I'm sorry, but no deal. I won't betray Mrs. Patterson's team."

"That's a real shame," he says. "Because we're going to win anyway. I just wanted a little extra edge. And don't you get all high and mighty on me. You're the one trying to break out of jail."

"I have been unjustly imprisoned!" you point out.

"And you won't help me out in a little boat race to help yourself? That makes no sense."

"I'm sorry, but no," you say, arms crossed.

"Suit yourself," he shrugs.

He turns away from you and prepares to stomp down the hall. As he stomps away, you do have time to…

1…lift the key from his belt.

2…shake my fist at him and mutter at him under my breath.

3…grab him through the bars by the shoulders and pull his head into the bars, knocking him out before he has any idea what happened.

 

3.

We now have information that the deputy gambles, is willing to spring prisoners for financial gain, and is hoping to cheat/rig the race. He's a direct threat to Mrs. Patterson, the sporting nature of our employer, and the rule of law. He must be stopped!
 

(I just can't bring myself to vote for 2, even though it's the only good non-escape option.)

…grab him through the bars by the shoulders and pull his head into the bars, knocking him out before he has any idea what happened.

You grasp his head and slam it into the bars, knocking him to the ground. He is a sturdy fellow, but your blow knocks him out cold at once. You grab the key from his belt.

It was a moment of remarkably unsubtle force that, frankly, shocks you. But done is done. And you suspect that you struck quickly enough that he may not quite realize what happened when he awakens. At least, you hope so.

You wriggle the key into the lock and turn it. You feel the sturdy lock turn, and then you are free. As Deputy Hardcastle groans on the floor, you launch yourself out a window and the police station as quickly as you can.

You run away from the police station as quickly as you can. You are an escaped convict. On the lam. A fugitive from justice. These phrases flash through your head as you run through town, heading for the docks, where Aunt Primrose's household will be gathered in preparation for the boat race and other events. You don't quite know how to explain things to them—as far as everyone knows, you are a felon. Will they realize you escaped? What should you say? Who will believe you?

You walk through the town, which is festooned in banners; it seems the whole of Woodland Centre is swelling the streets. Street vendors beckon you with hot spiced cider and caramel-dipped apples; the strains of an oompah band waft joyfully forth from a bandstand.

You pause at one of the vendors to get a large straw hat for yourself, which serves as a perfectly acceptable disguise so you are not recaptured during the festival. It has, unfortunately, a large yellow flower on it, but one cannot be choosy when it comes to emergency disguises.

You gaze up at the sky. It is clear and bright: to all appearances, a joyful and light day. But you know better. All in all, the whole atmosphere begins to look suspiciously like the setting for a highly exciting and altogether thrill-filled narrative climax.

 

Achievement Unlocked:  On the Lam: You escaped jail and are on the lam.

 

End of Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven Post Mortem:

Chapter Seven has the possibility of being rather different lengths in different playthroughs. 

The key is which character Ambrose suspects at this point.  He can suspect six different characters, including the main character, and there are six different scenarios following the parlour scene, two of which have the main characters ending up arrested.

You can also persuade Ambrose of your innocence, or that the NPC he suspects of guilt is not in fact guilty, which leads to a truncated chapter seven.

If you you end up in jail, you can escape, or make a deal with Deputy Hardcastle, or get rescued, or, failing that, get sentenced to hard labor (which is the sole early end in this game).  Making the deal with Deputy Hardcastle gives the player a reason throw the boat race and help the police boat win, which could become necessary if you don't happen to have the skills to get out of prison on your own.  Naturally you can also just agree to throw the race and then renege on Hardcastle, which will make him most peeved.

If one of the other parties end up getting sent to jail, you can rescue them (or fail to do so).  If Figs is the person who ends up sent to jail, and if you don't want to rescue him, Mopsie will attempt to help him (with varying but predictable results).  This also means that chapter eight had to be written in such a way that four of the main npcs could well be in jail during it.

So the parlour scene ended up being really, really time-consuming to write, because I didn't want to just cut and paste different names in; there are honest-to-god six different parlour scenes with different variations and different clues that Ambrose produces to support his conclusions. 

You've probably noticed that Valentine has essentially disappeared from the game; if Valentine is sacked in chapter five, and if you haven't made friends with her, she doesn't stick around.  If she had stuck around, she would have been an option to hang around with later in the game--a rowing partner, a peacock searching partner, etc.  Writing the last quarter of the game so that Valentine was either present or absent was another writing-intensive thing about chapters seven and eight.