The Ballad of Adler Young, Canto 2.5

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>Vernier: Try and steer Adler back to the task at hand. It takes a while.

Of course I respected Vernier too much to try deliberately using Wiles on her, but I was as charming as I could be without them! I can't remember all of the pleasant & witty things I said as I conjured up a multitude of items for her comfort.

"My Lord," she politely protested.

"There's no need to be so formal," I chuckled endearingly. "You may call me Snookums or Cuddly-Wuddly if you wish."

"My Lord," Vernier repeated. "There's no need for all this! I came here to deliver my report!"

>Adler: Some time passes and your fawning calms down. Ask Vernier for more information. Is everyone gone? Do you have absolutely no resources left?
>Vernier: As you are uncomfortably sitting on a big, comfy chair and surrounded by comfort items that Adler conjured up for you, things that you didn't want or ask for mind, you tell him more: confirming Rebecca's account and giving more information over what happened to the cult's prominent members and patrons. The Martin family sold all their local assets and moved on as no one would do business with them. You're certain Oak Martin would still be willing, but you're not sure about the rest.

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"Speak on," I sighed, kneeling beside the chair I had apported for her to sit in. "Anything you say will be music to my ears. You have my complete attention."

"Well, sir -"

"Are you quite comfortable?" I interjected as I observed a not-quite-comfortable look in her eye. "Do you have enough pillows?"

"Honestly, sir, I have more pillows than I need. There's hardly room for me in this chair - which I also didn't need, by the way."

"I can make the chair bigger," I pointed out helpfully.

"MY LORD," Vernier exclaimed forcefully, sending shivers down my spine. "I have to tell you, your hairdressers' cult is completely disbanded. Their assets have been seized or liquidated, and there's practically nothing left."

"It sounds wonderful when you say it," I sighed. "What exactly do you mean by 'practically nothing?' Is there something left?"

"Well, I'm still here," she pointed out. "I have my records as well as a brush and a few pairs of scissors."

"What about the Marten family?" I inquired. "They were quite numerous, and wealthy too from what I understand. Surely their fortune protected them from the calamity that struck the rest of my followers."

"I'm afraid not, sir. Nobody would do business with them in this area so they sold all of their local holdings and moved away."

"That quickly?"

"Walnut Marten's wealth is more theoretical than actual," Vernier explained. "He doesn't have enough petty cash on hand to keep his family fed in the face of a complete boycott."

"So all of the Martens are out of the picture then?" I asked, crestfallen.

"Well, Oak might still be interested since she was the most passionate about hair. Having a salon was always her dream; it was more of a lark for the rest of them."

"Indeed," I replied, suddenly reminded of a thought which had occurred to me earlier. "I don't think hairdressing was a sound basis for a secret society. We need to come up with something better, with a broader and more lasting appeal."

>Rebecca: Wave your hand in front of Burnside's face. She's been standing there frozen this whole time with the same stupefied look on her face. Is she going to be alright?

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"Uh, guys?" Rebecca interrupted. "I think there might be something wrong with the Raccoon Monster."