Angaph the Hand of the Unseen, Bandit King of Hamsah Mu'tazz, Imperial Shadow Lord

Role

Chapter 11

Angaph sighs and tosses back the last dregs of his wine. He props his
feet up on the edge of the table and raises the now-empty glass, without
uttering a word. Within seconds it is filled, and a trembling servant
fades back into the crowd just as quietly as he'd come. Angaph lifts
the full glass to his face, inhales, then wrinkles his nose in disgust.
Sighing again, as if resigning himself to some tragic fate, and begins
to drink.

So much has happened. Per the Emperor's request he completed his design
for the library expansion, only to have Gaspare nix the entire project.
If that weren't enough, the Emperor continues to obsess over it,
pressing him for further design modifications. How might he channel the
Emperor's energies elsewhere without outright rejecting his demands?

He takes another drink.

Of course, if the Emperor were deposed then this would not be a concern.
This is a fact Gaspare made abundantly clear when he tasked Angaph with
finding suitable candidates to complete the Council. But this is easier
said than done. The minotaur Bixbar was appointed without his input,
albeit more or less by default. Nevertheless, this represents a failure
on his part to complete Gaspare's task. He must not fail again. But how
to squeeze blood from a turnip? The Black Sect is barren!

Another drink. This time a mouthful. He drinks angrily, without
savoring the taste. It's all the inferior vintage deserves.

And there is the matter of this Argothus, the msyterious Seer who hinted
at something powerful enough to threaten the Empire itself, and tasked
Angaph with collecting three items. This he did, without the aid of any
other Citizen, so that he might horde the glory for himself, but...whither
Argothus? The Seer is nowhere to be found. What's more, he was upbraided
by Gaspare for his general ignorance of the situation. Another failure,
and one that must be remedied post haste. He must learn more, but all
that his spies report are rumors and half-truths. How to separate fact
from fiction?

He drains the rest of his glass, grimacing as he swallows. A bitter
taste to fit his bitter mood. Steeling himself for what lies ahead, he
rises from the table, turns toward the exit and, without thinking,
recedes into the shadows.

Role

Chapter 10

In the wake of the Hamsah battle, Angaph's mind began to race. He first
penned a hasty missive to the Emperor explaining a certain version of
events. Not the version that actually transpired, mind, but one that
could plausibly have transpired and which put Angaph in the clear with
respect to Imperial Law. Looking over the missive once last time,
and deciding it was to his satisfaction, Angaph dripped wax onto the
exterior and pressed it with his seal.

Would it be enough?

He is still uncertain. The Emperor seemed...unconvinced...and so Angaph
responded with another missive, this one even more convincing than the
last (or so he thought) and hoped for the best. If worse came to worst,
he had in his back pocket an "indulgence" granted him by the Emperor
many years ago, but he hoped it would not be necessary to spend that
accumulated capital just yet. He also fired off his long-postponed design
for the Imperial Library expansion, which he hoped might further placate
the Emperor.

His position has never been so tenuous. He *must* complete this silly
task of the Emperor's as soon as possible and, in so doing, gain the
access he has sought after for all this years. It is imperitive.

With a boldness perhaps bordering on foolishness, Angaph sends off yet
another missive, this time to Lord Gaspare, informing him of the completed
design, still lacking the Emperor's final approval, and inquiring as to
what will be necessary to complete the project.

He is not getting any younger, and he would like to retire, some day,
and not have to look over his shoulder every minute of every day. He
hopes, against all hope, that completing this boondoggle of the Emperor's
will finally make that a reality.

Role

Chapter 9

"I am most disappointed the outcome of this conversation, Shadow Lord,"
said Krata, the Dread Lord, curtly. So potent a force to have so tender
an ego!

He had approached Angaph to complain about the actions of a Shadow,
Vae, who had, apparently declined to hand over his belongings at the
Dread Lord's request.

Angaph gritted his teeth in annoyance. It was right of Vae to refuse
as a Shadow, they are not some Oath to be ordered around by the Black
Sect. But handling the matter with such a lack of...tact...left much
to be desired. Now the Dread Lord considered him an enemy.

It was not a pressing concern, at least so long as Itzenxilaatl, or
Angaph himself, sat on the Throne, but should the Dread Lord manage to
Angaph feared things would go poorly for him.

So it was that when the Dread Lord cried out that he was slept in the
Water Cave near Hamsah, Angaph immediately sent himself home with an eye
toward aiding him and, hopefully, smoothing over the Vae matter once and
for all. He did not care about the Dread Lord's life, of course, but
if by rescuing him he could endear himself, then so much the better.

Unfortunately, the battle moved to the River and Angaph, in the heat
of the moment, stabbed Pipi in earshot of a Magistrate. He was promptly
marked a criminal, much to the amusement of the Outlander.

Most unfortunate.

Role

Chapter 8

"So you see, Emperor, the numbers don't add up! This error offends my
sensibilities as a former accountant!"

He lied. Such an error in the ledgers would indeed have offended Angaph,
but that wasn't why he needed access to the sealed archives. He had to
be sure, once and for all, that there was no record of his past. But,
since he couldn't reveal his true reasons, the lie of the mismatched
numbers was born.

If only it had been so easy!

"Why, certainly you may inspect the sealed files, Shadow Lord," the
Emperor said, "...right after you do something for me."

A library?!?

Or, rather, an expansion to the existing Imperial Library, which, in
Angaph's opinion, hardly needed expanding. To be personally designed by
Angaph himself and populated with new works from actual adventurers.

No small order!

But comply he must, or else live in constant fear of being found out.
And so he will, no matter the cost, which is bound to be astronomical.
The mere thought of it gives him a headache, adding to the irritation of
having just lost his two best shadows: Talevar and Jehir.

Angaph pours himself a glass of red wine from a conspicuously unlabeled
bottle, closes his eyes, sighs, and begins to rub his temples.

Heavy is the head that wears the...

"Tut, tut," he thinks to himself, cutting short that line of thought.

"You're getting ahead of yourself."

Role

Chapter 7

Angaph's efforts to access the full scope of the Imperial Archives has
been thwarted. His spies have uncovered a secret cache of records to
which only the Emperor has access. This is...vexing. So far the
Emperor has not seemed to be interested in old trade deals and the
mutinous children of minor merchants, but that could change at any time.

But there is an opportunity! He has won an "indulgence" from the new
Emperor for, of all things, designing a piece of furniture. Might this
favor be traded in exchange for full access to the archives? Or would
that merely draw the Emperor's attention to matters better left alone?

It is a conundrum.

There is also the matter of the Warmaster, who chose to be bizarrely
forthcoming about his behavior during the vote. He is not a Shadow, so
such bluntness is to be expected.

It seems Angaph and the Warmaster each betrayed the other, and in so
doing jointly chose the new Emperor. An unfortunate outcome. Mostly
because it means Angaph isn't on the Throne, but also because it exposed
his lie to the Warmaster. Should Zaol ever sit on the Throne, Angaph
very much suspects it will be the end of his tenure as Shadow Lord and
perhaps as a Citizen of the Empire.

He'll just have to make sure that NEVER happens.

Role

Chapter 6

"What did he want, Rathic?"

Before answering, Rathic the Scribe gets up from his desk and peers
around the corner just to make sure the Shadow Lord is really gone.

"It was the weirdest thing, Aelfr. I offered to walk him through the
roster of our undercover agents, but all he wanted was information about
our trade dealings in Galadon! Of course we dabbled there some years
ago, but it wasn't very profitable so we looked elsewhere."

"What a hassle," replies Aelfr, lamenting with his fellow functionary
the impositions of their low station.

Rathic: "Yeah, tell me about it."

Aelfr returns to working on the documents spread across his desk, before
idly offering, "What about the records sealed with Graitel's signet?"

Rathic looks up, almost says something, then seems to think better of
it. He narrows his eyes as suspicion flowers in his mind, and his next
words are chosen with great care.

"Of course not, Citizen Aelfr. I would *never* betray the Emperor's
*personal* archive. Not even to the Shadow Lord. As Citizen, my Oath
is to the *Throne*. Do you question my loyalty?"

"Pfeh! Calm down Rathic. Nobody's accusing anybody of anything. Want
to get lunch?"

Rathic looks mollified, but only barely. "Certainly, Citizen."

The pair leave together, and as the last echoes of their steps disappear
down the hall a figure separates himself from some shadows at the corner
of the room.

Angaph frowns.

"Poorly played, Aelfr," he remarks to noone in particular. "I thought
I'd trained you better than that."

Shaking his head in disappointment, the Shadow Lord strides out of the
room and melts back into the shadows.

Role

Chapter 5

Life in the Empire has, so far, been kind to Angaph. His business
acumen and past life as a merchant have allowed him to surpass his peers
in donations, which has led to a number of promotions. This is a welcome
development, but it works against his goal of avoiding drawing attention
to himself lest someone become curious enough to discover his true
identity. So far his secret seems safe. The only way to be sure, though,
is to be appointed Shadow Lord, at which point he will have access to the
full scope of Imperial records. This is his current priority.

Fortunately, or unfortunately?, he made a deal with Gaspare and now owes
the lich three pieces of information obtained via eavesdropping. This debt
has proved harder than he expected to repay. The sad truth is that most
people are just boring. Or, at least, they don't say interesting things
to one another. Consequently Angaph has had to employ more "creative"
ways of collecting information. Bribery, for instance. Also capitalizing
on the eagerness of those hoping to join the Conquest. People will tell
you all sorts of things if you pay them, or if they conclude that by
divulging information they might curry favor.

Nevertheless, Angaph is somewhat apprehensive about his debt. The
meager information he has gathered may not prove...satisfactory...and
the means through which he gathered it are not exactly what was
required. He can only hope that, being an artist, Gaspare will
appreciate his "creativity".

Role

Chapter 4

Joric arrives in Tir-Talath penniless. He recalls a businessman there,
though, that his mother once mentioned. Something about an Inn, west
off the main road. Perhaps they need someone to keep the books? Manage
shipments?

It seems they do. And it seems the businessman is much more than a
businessman, and it seems that Joric's, now "Angaph's", skill with
numbers and lack of a moral compass is fairly valuable after all.

Taking the name "Angaph", after a valley known for its viticulture, Joric
lays low for a year or two in Tir-talath, keeping the books for the
thieve's guild there, and learning a thing or two in turn. He earns the
trust of the guildmaster. So much so, that he is sent back to Galadon on
a mission.

It is in Galadon that he first hears the criers announce the death of
the Emperor, Graitel. Does this mean the Empire has forgotten him?
Could it be?

But, no, he can never know for sure. And it gnaws at him. Always looking
around every corner, seeing assassins in every shadow. No, he must get
to the bottom of the matter. And, to do that, he must rise to the very
pinnacle of the Shadow Sect. He must become one of the men with masks.

Role

Chapter 3

Halgar's head, lying there on the ground staring up at him. That is
the first thing Joric sees as he turns the corner. At the sight of it,
his heart sinks in his chest and he knows the jig was up. Foolishly, he
still holds out hope that his parents might still be alive, but
that hope is dashed upon entering the estate. There they are, dead on
the ground, seemingly the victims of a burglary gone wrong.

His mother has a knife in her back, having turned to run for the door.
His father has a sword drawn, but apparently the assailants got the
better of him. A red blotch mars his waistcoat, right around where his
heart should be.

"What..." he starts to ask the Magistrate assigned to investigate the
crime, but he can't get the words out.

"Looks like a robbery, I'd say. It's clear as day from the way the
bodies are positioned. Why, I've seen this thing a hundred times!"

"I..."

"So, are you the son? This...Joric?" he says, glancing down at a notebook
to verify the name.

Joric looks at the Magistrate then. Really looks. Is there something
in his eyes? Or is it his voice, when he says "Joric?" Is he an agent
of the Empire? Does that mean they know he, personally, was behind the
Angaph affair? Or is it merely an innocent question?

"Ah, no sir. I'm just a courier. Looks like those two won't be able to
take this delivery!"

"I'd say not! Get on with yourself, then. This is a crime scene!"

"Yes sir! I'll...show myself out."

Role

Chapter 2

"You want me to what?!?"

His lieutenant balks at the very thought of it. Doublecross the Empire?
Is the boy mad? Joric had always been ambitious, but surely this isn't
what the old man had in mind when he put his son in charge?

"You hear me, Halgar. I want you to float our casks up Voralia's tears,
no matter how many polemen you need, and beat the Imperial traders to
market in Blackclaw. If you use the intermediaries as I've instructed,
they'll never be the wiser. We, however, will be rich."

Halgar looks doubtful. It is a sound plan, but the Empire has a way
of... discovering things. Things it shouldn't know. But he has has
nowhere to go, and, as noted, it is a sound plan. And to be that
rich...

Halgar tells his men to load the casks onto the barge and sets off for
the docks to hire additional polemen, daydreaming about what he'll buy
with his share of the profits. Cabernet from the Angaph Valley- the
felar would pay a pretty penny for that!

Role

Chapter 1

Joric sits on the ground, all of five years old, busily writing with his
pencils. His father sits a few feet away at an incredibly expensive desk,
engrossed in some sort of paperwork.

"Daddy? Do you want to see my figures? I know they're correct!"

His father glances up, only briefly, before giving his usual reply, "Later,
Joric. You know I have work to do."

Joric is visibly disappointed, but says nothing. He's been here before.

His mother now appears at the door, an elegant woman in her late
twenties, several decades younger than her husband. She is flanked by
two figures in black, whom she announces to Joric's father. The figures
wear stange silver masks, but she expertly declines to notice.

Joric knows these men. He doesn't know them personally, of course, but
he knows what they mean. When the men with masks come it means his
father has to conduct his business in private, which is to say no five
year-old boys allowed.

"Joric, come with me," says his mother. Joric stands up. "Show me what
you've been working on. Perhaps the Burning Heart has graced you with
some talent after all."

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