All language subtitles for carnival.row.s01e07.720p.web.x264-skgtv-eng

(horse whinnies)

♪ ♪

(thunder rumbling)

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(man clears throat)

(quiet, indistinct chatter)

You know I didn't do this.

What I know

is you withheld facts
material to this case.

Looked me straight in the eye
and fucking lied.

Because I knew what would happen
if I didn't.

Don't put this on me,

you fucking half-blood
piece of shit.

(indistinct murmuring)

- Take him downstairs.
- Right.

(exhales)

(indistinct chatter)

Log him in.

Former Inspector
Rycroft Philostrate.

GUARD:
Where should I put him?

With the fucking Critch,
where he belongs.

On second thought...

put him in here

with these fine gents.

MALE PRISONER:
Too good for us, now, is he?

CHOPPER:
What's this, then?

DOMBEY:
Half-blood.

Been passing himself off
as one of us.

You don't say.

(Philo grunts)

(door locks)

DOMBEY:
Right, then.

Let's us go and have a smoke,
shall we?

- What about them?
- They'll be fine.

(prisoners speaking quietly)

- Philo! Behind you!
- (Choppers grunting)

(prisoners cheering)

Fuck you!

(cheering stops)

CHOPPER:
Ouch. (groans)

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

(horse whinnies)

- Curtis.
- Sir.

Thank you.

This way.

Well, Miss Imogen,

it has been, for me,
a most memorable evening.

It has been for me, too.

I realized today I don't
much like Louisa Pembroke.

In fact, I don't think
I like most anyone I know.

(chuckles)

(panting)
Thank the Martyr you're back.

Afissa, I'm fine.

Afissa.

What has got into you?

The police were here.

- What?
- Your brother is in quite a state.

IMOGEN:
What?

EZRA:
Everywhere I turn

is scandal.
Now, if it weren't bad enough

that my sister was out in public
on the arm of a Puck,

I now come to learn
that my father gave refuge

to a pregnant Pix tart
in this very house.

Now, I can do nothing
about the latter,

as it is mercifully in the past.

- Oh...
- But as to your predicament, dear,

I can and I will intercede.

Must we go over this again?

Our fate is in his hands.

The price is that I be seen
on his arm.

There must be a limit
to what he can ask of you!

Tomorrow, I intend to negotiate
an end to this madness

on your behalf, dear.

Of course.

And for that,
I would be most grateful.

I'm glad to hear it.

If I didn't know any better,
I'd start to wonder

if you didn't actually enjoy
his company.

(chuckles)

(scoffs)

What?

Nothing, Miss.

Let's get you up these stairs.

Get you out of that dress.

...think you're gonna fucking
love this, right here.

Come here, then.

(sighs)

DOMBEY: Get in there
with your own kind.

Now.

CHOPPER:
Get him out of here.

Lads.

(gate shuts, locks)

MALE PRISONER:
Well done, mate.

(indistinct chatter)

Thanks...

for looking out
for me back there.

I didn't want to see you dead
just yet.

What the hell are you
doing here?

I was about to ask you
the same thing.

(birds singing)

I have some news.

There's a rumor that someone's
been arrested for the murders.

Is that so?

I thought you'd be pleased.

You're safe now.

Am I?

Well, unless he can control
the Darkasher from prison.

Or they have the wrong man.

What makes you say that?

All I know is I saw it
come for me.

And that at the moment
of my death,

I'll understand who summoned it.

W-Well, then we...
we must both pray that

your vision was...

was mistaken.

I should go.

Aioffe?

Your husband will be
back home soon.

Be careful.

(train brakes squeak)

Uh, sir, 47 stivers, how far
will that take me from the city?

Only to Keranganz,
if you had five more.

(sighs)

(bell clanging)

(steam hissing)

Runyon?

Runyon Millworthy?

Horatius Symes, you old rascal.

How long has it been?

I don't know, but it's an age.

(chuckles)
Look at you.

Tell me, are you still singing
for your supper?

The stage? Gracious no.

- I'm far more respectable these days.
- Oh.

Educating the Chancellor's son
at Balefire.

Good God.
So what are you doing here?

I'm just back from Hullsbay;

a futile attempt to hire
an Arts & Letters scholar.

- Hang on a mo...
- What?

Didn't you get a rather good
degree from Oppidian?

Horatius, that was
a very long time ago, and I hear

the Breakspear boy
is a nightmare.

Runyon... it's a lot of money.

(panting, moaning)

If they only knew
the mischief unfolding

under their very noses.

Between a Longerbane
and a Breakspear, no less.

The city would spontaneously
burst into flame.

And we would decide
what rose from the ashes.

More talk of an alliance?

My advisors are pressing me to
call for a vote of no confidence

against your father
within the fortnight.

And what?

- You wish me to warn him?
- I wish to warn you.

Your father's regime is waning.

There's nothing you can do
about that.

You must see to your future now.

And what would you have me be?
A spy?

What would you like to be?

I have no interest in politics.

But politics is the price.

Of what?

Of moments like this.

As lovely as you are,
I can have moments like this

with anyone I please.

Do you even know what this is?

Do you have any idea
what I'm offering you?

Moments like this
are the moments

that change everything.

If you're not careful,
they'll pass you by.

Good day, Master Jonah.

(clicks tongue)

Your mother, I'm so sorry.

And I know how much that library
meant to you. I just...

I can't imagine.

They can't really think
you killed her.

(sighs)

To cover up my secret.

Can't say I blame them, it all
adds up if you think about it.

The headmaster,
the doctor who sheared me,

they all knew the truth
about me.

Still, working with you
all this time,

they should know you.

They thought they did.

I lied to them.

Sometimes there's
no coming back from that.

The Swan. I like it.

And she can do...
"ten knots at full steam."

Yes, and as you can see,
the hold is quite spacious.

At 50 guilders a head,
she'll pay for herself.

After three crossings,
the rest will be profit.

May I ask you something,
Mr. Agreus?

By all means.

Uh, were you yourself
indentured?

For five years.

To a foundry owner
in New Freehold.

The work was hard,
but he was a fair man.

And how did you make
your fortune

from such humble beginnings?

Guilder by guilder...

like anyone else.

You know the saying, "The first
guilder is always the hardest."

Especially for...

Oh, um...

A Puck.

Especially for a Puck.

Tell me,

what does a skipjack
do, exactly?

Oh, I see you've made
some inquiries.

One must always know who one is

entering business with.

Well, a skipjack is one
who tracks workers

that have run away.

Are you saying you...

you hunted your own kind?

Well, they signed the same
contracts that I did.

Even so.

Your own kind.

I won't deny, Mr. Spurnrose,

that in all the years
I plied the trade,

I never came across
another skipjack that wasn't

your own kind.

But you see, I realized
a long time ago

that if I was to find my way
in the world of men,

I'd have to play
by the rules of men.

Mm.

Um...

there's another matter
I'd discuss with you

concerning my sister,

and the terms
of your arrangement with her.

IMOGEN:
Well, what did he say?

It is as you surmised
the other day.

That is, not until
you've helped him establish

a foothold
in our social circle will...

will you be free
of your obligation to him.

Well...

judging from the reaction
to his presence at the auction,

that could be a very
long time indeed.

Actually,
you'll be happy to hear

Mr. Agreus has received
an invitation to take tea

at the Tripplethorns'
this very afternoon.

- Really?
- Mm.

Apparently, they insisted
on turning over the painting

he bid on personally.

It seems they're
very curious to know more

about our mysterious
Puck neighbor.

It could very well be
that your services

are no longer be required
soon enough,

if at all again, dear.

Well, we can only hope.

We can. We truly can.

(indistinct chatter, shouting)

Oi, Fleury,
have you seen Vignette?

Something the matter?

She didn't come home last night.

Hmm.

So she is in custody?

That's what I just said,
isn't it?

She in a lot of trouble?

Well, that's up
to the magistrate.

If he's in a bad mood,

she'll get sent
back where she came from.

But if she's lucky,
she'll just have to pay a fine.

How big a fine?
I'll pay.

That way you won't have to
trouble the magistrate at all.

Come back tomorrow
with 50 guilders.

Fifty?

I'll see what I can do.

Well, there you go.

- Sarge, I'm gonna have a smoke.
- Yeah, all right.

Oh.

Good afternoon, Mrs. Fyfe.

I've come to see about Philo.

Ah. Over here.

Well, be assured
Inspector Philostrate

has been arrested and charged.

You didn't say anything about
charging him when we spoke.

Well, passing is a crime.

You're not the first
decent citizen

to have been deceived like that.

Besides, that's just the tip
of the iceberg.

We've got him
for the killings, too.

What?

No.

M-Mr. Philostrate
isn't a murderer.

I don't need to tell you that.

You've worked alongside him
for years.

How much does one really know
about a Critch, eh?

Yours was the piece
that made the puzzle.

It all fell into place once you
put us onto him

being a half-blood.

It was a lie.

- Come again?
- We had a quarrel.

I made it all up to hurt him.

(pained exhale)

FLUTE:
Philo.

Your landlady just filed
a statement

that could potentially
see you clear of this mess.

You said you didn't
do these killings.

You know I didn't.

- Not Morange?
- No.

- Not the headmaster?
- No.

Or the Pix, Aisling Querelle?

No.

So it's not true
that you're her son, then?

That was just something
the Fyfe woman made up

because of a quarrel?

I need to hear it
from your own mouth

that you're a man...

not some lying half-blood.

Go on, then.

Answer me.

Aisling Querelle was my mother.

I am what I am.

The Darkasher's
still out there.

Enough of your half-blood shit!

I trusted you!

I believed in you!

♪ ♪

(bell tolling)

I understand
Master Symes left you

at Chapter 39 of Elomia.

Open it and let's begin.

No. I don't think
I'm in the mood.

(chuckles)
Be that as it may,

I've been brought in
to tutor you,

and I'm afraid I'm gonna
have to insist.

You're in no position
to insist on anything.

I can tell from your shoes.

You need this job. Hmm? Badly.

Which means you'll confirm
my attendance to Master Symes,

and report that I'm making
splendid progress.

And if I don't?

Well, I'll tell Symes
you're a shite tutor

and to get me someone else.

Are we clear?

Good.
I'll see you here tomorrow.

Oh, don't look so glum.

Whatever they're paying you,
I'll double it.

- I know your type.
- (door creaks)

Skating along on Daddy's wealth

and good name
without a thought as to how

that story would end.

I've been brought in to
equip you with a little wisdom

so you might vaguely become
a more tolerable human being.

Take it or leave it,
but don't think

you can pay me to lie for you.

Because I don't care
about your father.

And I'm not afraid
of destitution.

But I think you are.

So, it's time to look
to your own future, boy,

if you're to have one at all.

You're not like my other tutors,
are you?

If only you knew

what I'd seen and done.

Good. Chapter 39.

All I'm saying is
it makes us look bad.

One of us a killer.

Well, imagine the trial.

They're gonna drag us all
through the mud

- for not catching onto him sooner.
- Exactly.

Don't know about you boys,
but I've worked too long

and too fucking hard
to see my reputation undone

by one bad apple.

Well, there's nothing
to be done, is there?

- Man has to have his day in court.
- Does he?

What are you getting at?

Well, what if, say,

he tries to escape,
and gets shot for his troubles?

- Oh...
- All right, all right, all right.

Maybe...

the horror of what he has done
gets to him,

and he hangs himself
in his cell.

It could happen.

Now, either way, no messy trial.

Let it percolate.

Let it percolate.

VIGNETTE:
Philo.

I just wanted to say

you did your mother proud
back there.

I just wish I could have
given her justice.

I was getting so close.

I always wondered
who my father was.

If he was soldier, a poet.

Now I know he was
just a piece of shit.

You think it was your father
who did these killings?

It's the only thing
that makes sense.

They all knew about me.

His half-fae bastard.

Don't say that.

He's the bastard.

One with a fuck lot to lose
to go as far as to kill

three innocent people just
to protect his own reputation.

What I can't understand is why

he didn't come after me first.

Why didn't that thing kill me
in the tunnel the other night?

Unless...

Unless what?

Unless he didn't know who I was.

That's why he needed
their livers.

So he could read their secrets
and follow them to me.

(scoffs)

Then it's not over.

Sooner or later, he's gonna send
that thing after you, too.

Unless they hang me first.

BERWICK:
Philo.

Berwick.

Watch yourself.

Dombey's out to make sure
you don't see a trial.

He's gonna try something.

You're a good man.

Sorry I couldn't do more
for you, mate.

I know.

♪ ♪

The Rising.

Well, what do you think, Fergus?

Well, it's not how
I'd spend 300,000 guilder.

But then you're
the master here, not I.

(exhales)

Right.

Where to hang it?

Perhaps a woman's eye
would be of some help.

I was out for a stroll,
and I saw you bringing it in.

A woman's eye would be
most welcome.

IMOGEN:
Just up a little on the right.

(church bells ringing
in distance)

Perfect.

AGREUS:
Thank you. It's perfect there.

IMOGEN:
I think so.

What was he trying to say,
I wonder?

The painter.

That we're all poised somewhere
between heaven and hell,

I suppose.

Do you think she's meant
to be an angel, then?

Well, she's got the wings
for it.

IMOGEN:
And he a demon?

AGREUS: He's certainly
got the horns for it.

(laughs softly)

But he's an odd sort of demon,
though, isn't he?

You know, pulling heavenward.

IMOGEN: Yes, it is
topsy-turvy, isn't it?

Maybe he's not a demon
after all.

But those horns.
What else could he be?

A rescuer.

From what?

The ordinary.

As if you, Miss Spurnrose,
would know the first thing

about being ordinary.

What's that?

(clears throat)

This... (laughs)
This is another

of my prized possessions.

An electric lamp.

How does it work?

Allow me.

(liquid pouring)

(chuckles)
What are you doing?

It's called a battery.

Now, that's just water that's
been distilled from steam.

But this is the magic
ingredient.

Huh.

AGREUS:
Copper sulfate.

Huh.

(sizzling)

And now what?

Patience.

(laughs)

JONAH: I haven't been able
to stop thinking about you.

You know, I told myself you
were just another conquest,

like any other...

...but I walked away
feeling as though

it was I who had been conquered.

I've spent all day
asking myself why.

Something's changed in me.

You've taken me
to the edge of something

I can no longer ignore.

What's that?

The future.

I-I'd never bothered
to imagine it before.

It... it didn't belong to me.
It belonged to...

prophecies
and broken promises and...

Until the day a stranger
came to Parliament.

She was nothing
when she walked in.

No one expected anything of her.

But within five minutes,
she brought my father,

the Chancellor of the Burgue,
to his knees.

And?

Aren't you going to ask?

Ask what?

The question
you came here to ask me.

Why?

- Chaos.
- Chaos?

(laughs):
Oh, yes.

Chaos is the great hope
of those in the shadows.

Chaos to a man like your father
creates opportunity

for people like you and me.

Regimes fall,

old worlds burn.

And we decide what rises
from the ashes.

One step at a time.

(electricity buzzing)

It's very pretty.

But, honestly,
doesn't a gas lamp

do much the same
but with less fuss?

Well, that may be
the case now, but,

I mean, someday, the streets
will be lined with wires

bringing electricity
from distant steam plants.

There will be no smoke,
no accidental fires.

You'll just throw a switch,

and the light will chase away
the darkness.

Or at least
that's how I like to think

(chuckles):
that things will someday be.

Being forward-thinking
is a good thing.

Sometimes it's
a necessary thing.

Is that how you do it?

Ignore the looks
and the slights?

By imagining the day

when the sight of a Puck
on Finistere Crossing

attracts notice
not for the cut of his coat

but for that of his heart?

And I thought
you deemed me vain.

Ridiculous, even.

No.

I did at first, I admit.

But now I see how wrong I was.

You are quite unlike anyone
I have ever met, Mr. Agreus.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

(exhales heavily)

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

(thunder rumbling)

CABAL: This was brought
here from Puyan

by the prior
who founded this place.

He salvaged it
from the Great Hoff...

when the Burguish Army razed it.

(water dripping)

CABAL: He wanted to
make sure the old ways

would never be forgotten here.

The Hidden One brought you
to this place

because He has
a purpose for you.

Tell me.

Well, first, you must
prove yourself to Him.

(muffled protests)

(frightened grunting)

Oh!

(shuddering)

FOREMAN:
Oh, no. No.

(panting)

CABAL: They've raised their
hands against us for too long.

Now it's our turn.

Blood for blood.

(Quill grunts softly)

FOREMAN:
No, please.

I... Please.

Please. I've got a family.

Please. (pants, moans)

(Quill panting, grunting)

FOREMAN:
Oh. Oh, no...

Oh.

(whimpers)

Oh.

(Quill straining)

FOREMAN:
Please.

I've got a wife.
I've got, I've got chil...

- (grunts)
- (body thuds)

(panting)

(thunder rolling)

WINETROUT: The farm workers in
Allora have gone on strike.

Send in the Guard, what else?

Polls from the third ward
show Wootenvale

within striking distance.

Oh, schedule me an appearance
at his next rally.

See if we can't
close the gap. What else?

- Longerbane's coalition...
- Good news, Winetrout.

If there is any.

The constabulary
has a suspect in custody

for the recent spate of murders.

There we are. See?
That wasn't that hard.

Culprit is a half-blood,
it turns out.

The killings
were to keep his secret.

The murdered Pix
was his own mother, I'm told.

- Sordid business.
- Aisling somebody...

A songstress of some sort.

That's the first I've heard
of a murdered Pix.

Well, why would you have?

Uh... Yes, indeed.

When does he hang?

Sooner the better, I'd say.

I was feeling like I'd finally
found a place in this city.

That's when I saw the sign.

Treasures of Tirnanoc.

Everything I'd lived
and breathed for,

that I'd spent my entire life
trying so hard to protect...

put into glass boxes

for a bunch of idiots
to gawk at.

Like some fucking
circus sideshow.

(sniffles)

Do you ever
think about Tirnanoc?

All the time.

I wish I'd never left you.

Oh, Philo...

...how did we get so lost?

We're not.

We're found.

DOMBEY:
Transfer order...

for Rycroft Philostrate.

- They're coming for you.
- I know.

(keys jangling)

- No, what...
- Stay with me.

(lock clicks, door opens)

- Stay with me.
- Philo...

- Stay with me.
- (sniffles, whimpers)

- Stay with me.
- Get off him.

- Get off him. Get off him.
- (softly): Stay with me.

Let go of him. Let go of him!

- Please, Philo.
- I love you.

(sobs, stammers)

Wait.

Get your hands off him.
Come back.

(sobbing):
Wait. Wait.

Please.

Where are you taking him?
Philo...

(sobbing):
Philo.

(Vignette sobbing)

No...

(sobbing)

(Philo breathing heavily)

(crow cawing)

(heavy breathing)

(loud cawing)

(leaves crunching)

(footsteps echoing)

(shackles clinking)

(cawing)

(wings flapping)

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