Your bard took the blade in his shoulder. He leans on you heavily. "I'll live. It's not deep." His face is grey. Your physician hurries forward, but the Bard flaps him away. "Back, I say. Back! I look rakish with scars." Your would-be killer struggles, but your guards have him fast.
In the Great Game assassination attempts are a mark of prestige. You feel invigorated. Nothing gets the blood pumping - one way or the other - like a good attempted murder.
Your assailant struggles in your guards' iron grip. A rival's catspaw? A rabid revolutionary? A stray lunatic? He hasn't said.
Available actions[]
1.
Administer swift justice There should be a trial, really, but better safe than sorry. Better you're safe, anyway. Not your would-be assassin. They get to be sorry. Very briefly.
Result: A simple moral Your blade bites. Blood spatters your face. You wipe it off as the guards drag the corpse away. No one dares speak. The eyes watching you are wide with fear. Good. Let the word spread: your enemies are going to need better assassins.
-10 Peril, -5 Dignity, -5 Freedom
2.
Interrogate the failed assassin
(Requires Dignity > Rumors of Revolution) Who does he work for?
Difficulty: Cunning*2
Success: One loose thread The slogans pour from his lips. The nobility are blood-drinkers, draining the common Orlesian dry. A reckoning is coming. The old world will burn, from sky to root, and a new one will rise from the ashes. The revolutionaries are careful to isolate their cells. He knows little beyond the names of his immediate compatriots. Still, to unravel a tapestry begin by picking at a single thread.
+5 Clues
Success (alternate): Follow the money Sensibly, he doesn't know names. He was hired by an intermediary for an intermediary, and was wise enough not to ask questions. But he was to be paid in royals, not crowns. That's not the currency of revolutionaries. Royals fill baronial and ducal purses. This was one of your rivals, then, hoping to put an end to the House of Glass.
+5 Clues
Failure: Promises He's happy to talk. It's practically impossible to stop him. "We are the Maker's elect! Send me to Him, demon! Andraste herself will kiss these hands that tried to kill you, and welcome me into His Eternal Republic where every soul is equal!" He goes on like that for some time. You pick hints about his compatriots and their methods from the rant. One thing gives you pause: his suggestion that he wasn't alone. "I am only one of many, your Grace. Your death has been written in fire. Ten stand ready to take my place, and ten more for each of them!"
+5 Clues, +10 Rumors of Revolution
