Story
Sandros Pellaios found them before they found him.
Scarnax and Ayesha were halfway down a narrow street near the eastern baths, where steam curled lazily into air that felt too tight to breathe. A pair of legionaries stood at the far end, pretending to argue about paperwork while watching everyone who passed. A fruit seller had packed up early. Someone had chalked a warning sigil on a door and half erased it again.
“Captain Scarnax,” a voice said mildly, close enough to be unsettling. “Lady Marindar.”
Sandros stood beside a fountain that had not run in years, hands folded loosely behind his back as if he had been waiting for an appointment. He wore a plain traveling coat, clean but unremarkable, and held a folded paper he did not look at. His expression was relaxed, almost pleased.
Ayesha did not turn immediately. “You have us at a disadvantage,” she said softly.
Sandros inclined his head. “I try to avoid equal footing. It leads to misunderstandings.”
Scarnax studied him in silence. Sandros met his gaze without flinching, eyes sharp and curious, already measuring reactions.
“You arrived at dawn,” Sandros continued, as if reading from memory. “You spoke to a harbor clerk named Hesta Lorn and a records man named Gellius Varro. You avoided the arena district. Sensible. You asked careful questions and avoided one particular name. Also sensible. You are looking for Ivar Strongbow.”
Ayesha’s fingers tightened slightly in her sleeves.
Sandros smiled. “Do not worry. I admire restraint.”
“What do you want,” Scarnax said.
“To help,” Sandros replied at once. “Which happens, conveniently, to help my employer as well.”
“And who is that,” Ayesha asked.
Sandros laughed quietly. “No one you can write to. No one who would appreciate being named. Let us say a party with an interest in seeing imperial pressure reduced along certain borders.”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice though no one else was near. “I know where Ivar Strongbow is being held. I know which guard drinks alone after second bell. I know which signatures still matter on the transfer orders and which do not. I can give you a peaceful extraction. Quiet. No alarms. No blood.”
"I also know two ports of call for Waverider, which I think you will find valuable."
Ayesha glanced at Scarnax, then back to Sandros. “And the price.”
Sandros unfolded the paper at last. It was blank.
“Two small tasks,” he said. “One trivial. One significant.”
He gestured vaguely east. “There is a warehouse on the edge of the city. Old grain storage. Light guards. It burns easily. I would like it to burn at the right moment.”
Scarnax did not react.
“And the second,” Ayesha said.
Sandros’s tone did not change. “Governor Lucius Aurelian Marcellus.”
The name settled heavily between them.
“The architect of the Caerduin famine,” Sandros went on, almost conversational. “A careful man. A patient one. Also the lynchpin holding this place together. His death will accelerate everything already happening.”
Ayesha’s voice was very quiet. “You are asking us to kill a governor.”
“I am telling you that someone will,” Sandros replied. “I am offering you the advantage of timing.”
He folded the paper again. “You need my information. You despise the Empire. You want Strongbow alive. I am not presenting a moral dilemma. I am presenting arithmetic.”
Scarnax exhaled slowly through his nose. “You do not leave much room.”
Sandros smiled, unoffended. “Room is a luxury of safety.”
A long moment passed. A patrol turned the corner and moved on. Somewhere, glass shattered and someone shouted.
Ayesha nodded once. “We will consider it.”
Sandros’s smile widened just enough to be confident. “Of course you will.”
He stepped back, already disengaging. “I will be nearby. You will know where to find me. And Captain,” he added, meeting Scarnax’s eyes again, “do not worry. Keeping my word is good for business.”
Then he was gone, leaving behind only the faint sense that the city had shifted slightly around them, and that a path had narrowed to exactly the width Sandros Pellaios required.

Purpose of This Scene

This scene introduces Sandros as a force, not a quest giver.

He is here to demonstrate that other powers are already acting inside Albirica, that the crew is late to the board, and that leverage matters more than intent. This is not a negotiation. It is a scheduling conversation.

How to Play Sandros Pellaios

Sandros should always appear calm, informed, and unhurried.

He never asks questions to learn. He asks them to confirm. When he states facts, he does so casually, as if they were already old news. He should never explain how he knows something. Knowledge is presented as a given, not a feat.

He does not threaten. He does not raise his voice. He does not argue morality. If challenged, he reframes. If resisted, he waits. Confidence is his primary weapon.

Sandros should feel one step ahead at all times. Even if the crew pushes back, it should feel like he anticipated that reaction and allowed for it.

What Sandros Wants

Sandros represents an unnamed employer with an interest in weakening imperial pressure along the Caerduin and Ardenvale fronts. He does not speak ideology. He speaks outcomes.

He wants instability, distraction, and acceleration.

The warehouse fire is meant to pull attention outward and thin response capacity.

The governor’s death is meant to break confidence, disrupt command, and force the Empire to react rather than plan.

Sandros does not care who performs these actions, only that they happen at the right time.

Sandros does not care about Caerduin or Ardenvale, and he does not pretend to. Their suffering, survival, or victory are incidental variables, not goals. What matters to him and to the people who employ him is pressure applied to the Empire at the right points. If Caerduin breathes easier for a season, that is useful. If Ardenvale avoids scrutiny, that is convenient. If either were crushed tomorrow but the Empire emerged weaker, divided, or distracted, Sandros would adjust without regret. He is not an ally of the oppressed and not an enemy of tyranny. He is a broker of imbalance. Caerduin and Ardenvale are tools, leverage points on a larger board, and Sandros feels no obligation to mourn them once they stop being useful.

What Sandros Offers

Sandros holds leverage the crew cannot easily replace.

He has precise information that allows a quiet extraction of Ivar Strongbow.

He has verified ports of call connected to the Waverider’s trail.

He can time events so that consequences fall elsewhere.

Make it clear through tone and certainty that he is not bluffing. His value lies in accuracy, not volume.

Presenting the Lack of Choice

Sandros should never say the crew has no choice.

He should behave as if the choice has already been made.

When the crew hesitates, he waits. When they object, he reframes. When they attempt to moralize, he reduces the problem to timing and math.

Agreement should feel reluctant, not forced. The crew consents because the alternative is worse, not because Sandros pressures them.

What This Scene Changes

After this meeting, the tone of the arc shifts.

The crew is no longer reacting blindly. They are now entangled in someone else’s design.

From this point forward, Sandros should feel present even when absent. His information will prove accurate. His predictions will land. His debt will linger.

This scene establishes that the war around Albirica is not just fought by legions and rebels, but by people who never wear armor and never admit allegiance.

Play Sandros as one of those people.

The Fire and the Palace

The Fire

This scene exists to lower the threshold.

It is not meant to be difficult, dangerous, or clever. It is meant to feel easy and uncomfortable. The act of burning food in a time of famine should sit poorly, even if the target is imperial stock.

This is the first step across the line. Once it is done, turning back becomes harder.

The Target

The warehouse sits on the eastern edge of Corvessia, near the old river storage yards. It holds grain and dried goods awaiting redistribution to outlying garrisons.

It is not well guarded.

Two legionaries, both tired and bored, stand watch. Their names are Gaius Fen and Lucro Pell, neither of them exemplary soldiers. They were assigned here because more reliable troops are needed elsewhere.

They are alert enough to notice intruders, but not motivated enough to expect trouble.

How the Fire Plays Out

This should be straightforward.

The guards can be avoided, distracted, or neutralized without a fight. If confronted, they are more likely to retreat and raise an alarm than to stand their ground.

Starting the fire is easy. The structure is old. The goods are dry. A single spark in the right place is enough.

Do not complicate this scene unnecessarily. The point is not challenge. It is commitment.

Moral Texture

Emphasize what is burning.

Sacks marked for redistribution. Grain meant for soldiers, or possibly civilians later. Food that will never be eaten now. No one starves immediately because of this fire, but everyone feels the loss.

Let the players feel that they are not striking a symbol. They are destroying something real.

Immediate Consequences

The fire draws attention exactly as intended.

Troops are pulled from patrols and reassigned to containment and investigation. Officers redirect resources. Orders are shouted and countermanded.

Most importantly, pressure eases elsewhere.

Security around secondary sites thins, including the approaches to the governor’s palace.

The crew should not see this directly. Let them feel it later through absence.

How This Scene Should End

Once the fire is set and the crew withdraws, do not linger.

There is no reward, no confrontation, no dramatic aftermath.

Just smoke rising into a city already choking on fear.

A side has been chosen. From this point on, the crew is committed.

The Palace

This section is about contrast.

The palace should feel hard to enter and easy to move through. The difficulty is all at the edges. Once the crew is inside, the space should feel hollow, underused, and already abandoned by confidence.

This reinforces that imperial power here is brittle and overextended, relying on perimeter control rather than depth.

What the Palace Is and Is Not

The governor’s palace is not grand.

It was built early in Albirica’s history, when the colony was young and uncertain. It is closer to a walled mansion than a true palace, and the wall is more for privacy than defense. Thick walls, narrow courtyards, modest towers, practical stonework and a small garden. It was designed for administration and residence, not spectacle.

There are no sprawling gardens, no ceremonial avenues, no endless halls. Everything is compact and purposeful.

That modesty should make what happened here feel more intimate later.

Current Security Posture

The legion is spread thin and knows it.

As a result, security is concentrated at the perimeter. The walls, gates, and visible approaches are heavily watched. Guards here are alert, under orders, and unwilling to bend.

No amount of charm or quick talking will work at the gates. Orders are clear. No one enters unless personally known to the guard on duty. Papers do not matter. Rank does not matter unless it is familiar.

The wall does not exist to stop intruders, but to make sure that anyone who approaches the palace cannot do so without being seen. Inside the walls, however, security collapses quickly.

Most servants have been ordered to remain in their quarters. Administrative staff have been dismissed for the night. Patrols inside the palace are minimal to nonexistent. The assumption is that the perimeter will hold.

This assumption is wrong.

Ways In

A frontal approach should be clearly impossible. Too many reinforcements nearby, which will arrive quickly when the alarm is raised.

Bribery does not work. The guards here are not corrupt. They are afraid, and fear is more reliable than gold.

Distractions may draw attention away from one section of the perimeter, but they buy minutes at most. Once a disturbance is noticed, the alarm will spread quickly.

Waiting for night changes the equation. The walls can be climbed with care. Sight lines worsen. Patrol timing becomes predictable. This is risky but viable.

Rooftop entry is possible. The palace is built tightly against surrounding houses and temples. From the right adjacent structure, it is possible to cross over without ever touching the street.

There is also an aqueduct running past the palace. A narrow side channel leads directly inside. This is how the White Lily entered. Near the channel entrance, two guards lie unconscious, taken down quietly with drugged blowgun darts. This should be a clear sign that someone else has already passed through. If the players notice, they'll probably think it is Sandros' work. If so, let them.

The sewers technically connect to the palace, but they are filthy, cramped, and slow. They would allow entry, but escaping after that would be difficult and conspicuous. Use them only if the players insist.

Ileena can infiltrate the palace with little trouble. Her challenge is not the interior, but reaching the palace unseen through the increasingly hostile streets, and escaping in the even more hostile aftermath. Make that risk clear if she is sent alone.

Inside the Palace

Once inside, movement should feel almost unsettlingly easy.

Hallways are empty. Lamps burn low. Doors stand unlocked. The palace feels paused rather than guarded.

Include one minor moment of tension. A house slave moving quietly between rooms. A sudden voice around a corner. A place where the crew must hide and listen to footsteps pass.

Nothing more than that.

This is not a dungeon. It is a space already abandoned by authority.

Let the ease of entry and the emptiness of the palace linger. It should feel wrong, like arriving late to a place where something important has already happened.

The White Lily