The Shattered City: Chapter One

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"From what I've heard, things have been worse here than on the road." Tomas points out. "I hoped it was exaggeration...buildings burning, crime running rampant, the noble quarter turning into a group of armed camps..."

"Alas, it was not," Lia replies, pondering her own cup. "Make no mistake, this city has always been a cesspool in its own way, but these days ... The filth and ugliness are floating to the surface, Tomas. Bad things are happening everywhere."

"...I was worried about you." Tomas admits after a long moment, making eye contact with Lia.

Lia snorts, then cackles with laughter. "Worried about me making life miserable for anyone who tried to do me in, I hope," she finally chortles. "I was more worried about you, doing the lonely knight thing out in the world."

[DocBeard]

Tomas isn't sure how to take that; on one hand, she broke out laughing at his raw feelings, on the other, hey, she was worried. Ultimately Tomas takes his traditional route and ignores it-Lia made things clear the last time they spoke, and Tomas promised himself to respect that.

"When did you find time to take a Professorship?" Tomas asks instead, taking another sip of his tea.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"In part, it was Carter," Lia admits. Her expression turns sombre again. "He's still missing, by the way. No one I know has seen hide or hair of him in years ... I've been half-tempted to have a whip-round to pay for a cenotaph for him ...

In any case, he was as good as his word: he approved my exam paper, and saw to it that I could officially graduate, despite all the madness going on at the time. That got my foot between the door, so to speak. I turned my term paper into a book, which Devereux might have in his library: 'Passage of the Sun'. It's about the various solar deities whose shrines I was able to visit during our trip to the Amber Wastes. Andral, the Morninglord, Ra ... I argued conclusively that despite the chronological link that might be laid between them, and despite the opportunity for one solar deity to have transformed as the nature and culture of his followers did, they are entirely unconnected. There's a scientific mystery for you; how could three deities be so similar, yet share no common roots at all? The book may not have been as popular as that horrible Dead Travel Fast garbage, but it was a bit of a scholastic coup for me. All those original scrolls and writings I managed to collect during our trip, you see. I actually got an invitation from the faculty for theology to hold a brief speech at their annual banquet. Andre arranged it, I'm sure. Good man. We didn't get to talk too much, though, and we were both occupied afterwards."

Lia scratches herself behind an ear, looking embarrassed. "I got a commendation from the University Council for that," she says, as if admitting to a minor personal flaw. "And since I had a fair bit of time during the artistic off-season, I wrote another book. Or rather, finished writing another. 'Observations of Inter-Planar Interactions, Abridged Version'. I based that one on firsthand observations I made in Dezbar Keep and other places ... Though I was careful, there, not to give too many salient locations."

The Mage gives Tomas a meaningful look. "Hence the 'abridged'. Didn't want to send a bunch of hobby scholars into places that would kill them, nor to send egomaniacs with less heart than money to tear up places where people are living happy lives. I put in enough to interest a lot of people, though. I kept getting letters for years to please put the completed version on the market. But there's only one copy of that book, and that one's mine.

Fool that I was, I wrote one last book. 'The Accurate Representation of the Reign of Menetnashte'. Of course Devereux got there before me, but that didn't matter. I just wanted my own version out there as well. Didn't want to think I'd taken all those rubbings from the tomb for nothing.

I know, I know, I'm a dreadful egomaniac. Still, I managed to highlight different aspects of that dreadful affair than he did. Only stands to reason that we'd have different perspectives. After that, I was pretty much doomed. Three of the faculties were clamoring for me, and before I knew what was going on, I had a coach sent to my little opera house and I was cursorily summoned to attend a University function. I was promoted. The fact that I mentioned I did all of my fact-finding on a University-sponsored expedition didn't hurt any, I'm sure.

And so, here I stand before you, raised to the lofty title of professor based on 'demonstration of scholastic excellence', and by virtue of my 'academic merit and contributions to the scholastic community'. Can you believe it? If it had happened to anyone else, I would have suspected some heavy bribery going on, but most of my money at the time was going to the family and the opera house, not to mention the wages of my flautists."

[DocBeard]

Tomas listens. He nods at the appropriate places, bites his tongue at the religious bit(The obvious answer, to him, is that different cultures were looking at the same god and came to the same conclusions with different equations. Sort of like counting in base eight instead of base ten. But Tomas is somewhat shy of sharing religious theory with people, being a filthy agnostic.). He adjusts the gauntlet he wears under his shirt(for attaching his shield to) with a CLACK at mention of Dezbar Keep, as though he were quietly taking into account how long it would take to discreetly go out and bludgeon some would be devil summoner to death and if he could get back home in time for dinner.

Around Meneshante, he wonders if it has been some time since Lia has spoken outside of a lecture or similar responsibility. She seems to have forgotten how to pause for the other fellow to talk. It's adorable and Tomas has to bite his lip to keep from laughing, as he doesn't want to hurt the girl's feelings. "I'm still suprised you didn't take your share." Tomas admits, after a moment. "I mean, I'm not exactly keen on grave robbing, but it's not like anyone was really buried there. And you'd think death would make a person less materialistic, anyway. I mean, what are you going to do with it?"

"...so you don't actually teach any classes?" Tomas adds, rubbing his stubbly chin and blinking a few times. He's finished his tea. "I see the U hasn't changed since I've been away." Stretching awkwardly, Tomas looks for a place to set the teacup, and starts making for the door. "Thanks for the tea, Lia. I'd better get back out there-even a Dementieluese can't assume I've ravished you this quickly, so your reputation should be safe."

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"At the time," Lia replies with a shrug, "I had other things on my mind than money. And truth be told, I didn't want anything of Menetnashte's."

For a moment, her expression turns very ugly as she bares her teeth in something that isn't even reminiscent of a smile.

"Filthy wretch," she growls, as her eyes gaze back on memories. "I was glad to hear she finally turned to sand and blew away, never to return. Bah! I didn't want anything to remind me of her, didn't want to owe anything to anything of hers."

The Mage calms down when Tomas mentions teaching, and she half-shrugs. "Comme çi, comme ça, mon ami. I had an opportunity to teach before I became a professor, remember? One of the students I taught is Devereux, the other was that mercenary witch, D'Envers. Both fairly successful in the Art in their own way. But teaching is a bit dangerous, especially with the ... special interests at the University. No, I have not taught there, though I may try my hand in the future. Or I may just find myself an old-fashioned apprentice."

When Tomas starts to leave, Lia intercepts him, putting one hand on his arm. "I really am glad to see you again, Tomas," she says. "It's been too long. You are a cherished friend -- one of few left in this part of the world. And even if I laughed, I ... deeply appreciate ... the fact that you worried for me. You're sweet. Reputation be hanged; if you want to come over and talk in here sometime, just knock on my door. If I am leaving Dementlieu in the foreseeable future, I shall not worry overly much about my reputation in Dementlieu. And even if I am not leaving soon ... Friends before reputation, yes?"

Lia raises her veil once more, and says: "At the risk of being repetitive -- will you join me for a visit to captain Harris? It's been too long."

[DocBeard]

Tomas looks uncomfortable at the touch, like he is forcing himself not to jerk his arm away. His arm feels bulky and cold in a way it didn't in the past. Did something happen?

There are a lot of things he wants to say. I care, I don't want some maniacs looking for a scapegoat to break into your room and drag you off to set on fire just because you still couldn't blend in with a colony of beast-people who all had your dress sense, How dare you skip back into my life only to tell me you're leaving as soon as you can.

Tomas exhales, realizing that he's slipped into an old breathing exercise Sir Uffington taught him. "Of course." Tomas offers, and his smile is sincere. "Just tell me when everyone's going."

And with that, he's out the door.

[NeoTiamat]

Kitchen, The Chateau Malchance, Quartier Marchand, Port-a-Lucine; March 9th, 770, 12:24 AM
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His manners responding on automatic once again, Agale returned the bow "A pleasure sir..." then stopped halfway to stare in amazement at the floating cutlery. "What a fascinating feat of thaumaturgy. Your own handiwork?"

Nerit smiled at the sanguine professor, though the smoke known as 'Favonius' appeared to give her some pause. She put a hand to her heart and murmured, "Un fantôme?"

"Not at all, Sister, Favonius is no more a ghost than you or I. As a matter of fact, the good Mr. Agale is quite correct, he's a work of thaumaturgy, a bound paraelemental of smoke." Lemercier gestured towards the dancing wisp of smoke. The entity flitted over to Lemercier, flowing into a loose ring above his hand. "I contracted him with a simple application of Benverre's Third Law, though I admit that applying Benverre to the new facets of reality discovered by the Marquis du Voglie six years ago was a stroke of inspiration. Favonius is my minder, valet, cook, and occasional confidante. I am rather fond of him."

The circle of free-floating smoke danced above Lemercier's hand, looking barely present. The elemental seemed insubstantial, no more smoke than from a candle-flame. Yet it moved of its own volition, and judging from the cooking had its own mind. Favonius was manifestly alive.

"Dommer Cyrus Isfahani," he said, "My brother and I are staying here."

Upon hearing the new arrival, Agale takes a measured step back and to the side to allow her entrance. "Indeed madam, I am M. Agale, formerly of Borca at your service."

"I do not need your service." Professor Petrik said levelly, looking at Mr. Agale without an ounce of warmth. "If I wish to do something, I shall do it myself."

Professor Lemercier chuckled quietly to himself, then shooed Favonius off. The smoke paraelemental returned to its cooking.

The nun inclined her head again. "Ah, oui. You were at the piano earlier, Madame Professeur?" She kept her eyes downcast. "It was...très beautiful. Magnificent." Whether this would be taken as a compliment, she wasn't sure, like trying to impress the Mother Superior with propriety.

"Yes. It was beautiful." Professor Petrik nodded, accepting the compliment as nothing more than a basic statement of fact.

"My charming and most marvelously personable Seiglinde is possessed of many good qualities, but false modesty has never been one of them." Professor Lemercier said with a mischievous smile. "She knows her worth, and knows it to be incalculable, for Seiglinde's music is that which has launched a thousand ships, and could draw a tear from a stone statue's eye."

"Old Man, if you have nothing of worth to say, stop speaking." Professor Petrik said, a warning note in her voice. Lemercier chuckled again but subsided, waving Petrik forward to speak. The musician stepped forward on her high heels and regarded you with a look that would not have seemed out of place on a drill sergeant's face. You were not much, but you would have to do. "Since the Old Man has grown soft and does not lay down the rules, I shall do so."

"First, the rooms behind the library are mine. You are not permitted inside."

"Second, the instruments in the music room are my own. You are not permitted to use them." Professor Petrik sniffed, then relented an iota. "You may use the piano."

"Third, I tutor students in the music room every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday from 4:00 till 7:00 PM. You are to stay out from underfoot." Professor Petrik said. "Are these three rules clear to you?"

Upstairs Hall, The Chateau Malchance, Quartier Marchand, Port-a-Lucine; March 9th, 770, 12:24 AM
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Kerrian paused to consider this, the rather flamboyant way of moving in that Celeste was enjoying suddenly becoming the least interesting thing. "And..a demon is..what? I mean, I've heard of them...but haven't gotten much of an explanation..usually just puzzled looks." Kerrian said, having the feeling that this was something he should KNOW, and being unaware just made him more of a uncultured bumpkin than his heritage already did.

Cerise's eyes lit up, and her grin somehow managed to grow even wider. Grimmalken, perhaps sensing what was coming, skittered down the stairs.

"Demons! The fallen saints and angels, damned by their pride, tempting men to fall as they did!" Cerise exclaimed, nearly jumping up and down with excitement. The pent up enthusiasm for a topic that was not considered polite dinner conversation had exploded full force at Kerrian's perceived interest. "At least, that's what the modern religions say, if you go back to the Ancient Akiri and some of the old Phirazian religious scripts they claim demons are completely separate from humanity. I hear the old Phirazians claimed they were made of the classical elements -air, water, earth, and fire- which would explain the reports from the Ezran incident in Miriban where the inquisitors claimed the demon would warp its form to different elemental aspects when they struck it with magic. But those demons could be either good or evil and the good ones weren't angels, so it's possible they're entirely different entities. Anyway, you can't say any of that stuff in Phiraz now or the Prophet will be all over you, so no one can get any decent research done. Most scholars don't even believe in angels and just think demons are natural creatures or something, so they don't even bother to look into it. But you know, some of the professors over at the University have this theory that demons are just pure evil, sort of spiritually congealed into a big nasty toothy evil ball. They say there's enough of that stuff going around that it just sort of collects in certain spots - I mean, that's the simple version of it, they claim it's a bit more technical than all that, but I guess it involves some kind of spiritual trigger or something-"

The torrent of words continued unabated, showing absolutely no sign of stopping.

The door opens again. "Better," Darius allows, with the smallest measurable fraction of a smile on his face. "It is no fit use for the Art to imitate street mountebanks, monsieur, but at least you're clever about it. Give me a moment to arrange the room and I'll come out and throw coppers at your feet."

"It is no fit use of a religion to justify enslaving other men," Thierri snapped back - still, he had a performance to finish, and seemed unconcerned whether Darius could hear him or not. "So, the Hazlani throw money at things they disdain? The wealth of the Lawgiver becomes a good deal clearer to me."

She gave the magician an eager smile. “For lack of a more suitable stratagem, I shall pick the lady in the center: the symmetry becomes her. Please, reveal the solution at your earliest pleasure!”

"Ah, mademoiselle," Thierri said with an impish smile, "your taste is flawless."

With a wave of Thierri's hand, the two statuettes flanking the center one faded away. The magician gave Celeste a deep bow.

And with that, he's out the door.

The situation in the hallway was, to be perfectly honest, about the same as Tomas had left it. The only difference was the fervent enthusiasm of the people involved was no longer directed at him.

As the Lamordian joined the group in the hallway, the sound of footsteps up the stairs signalled the arrival of another newcomer. Cerise paused in her eager explanation to look down the stairwell, and perhaps to take a breath. A very tall young man with black hair was making his way up the steps, pausing for a moment to look at Grimmalken and pet the cat on the head. He was obliged to deliberately duck as the stairs began to approach the ceiling, straightening rather stiffly as he reached the landing and noticed the crowd. He bowed a little too quickly, the symbol of Ezra around his neck bouncing off his chest with the sudden movement.

Kerrian, perhaps, might have felt a slight familiarity with the expression on the man's face, as it indicated he had no idea what he was walking into.

"Good, good day," the man said with an awkward grin, rubbing his beard rather nervously. "Everyone, ah, seems to have moved in while I was outside."

[Cronax]

"I do not need your service." Professor Petrik said levelly, looking at Mr. Agale without an ounce of warmth. "If I wish to do something, I shall do it myself."

Mr. Agale stood impassively, meeting her gaze head on. For a moment he considered a retort, but thought the better of it.

"Third, I tutor students in the music room every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday from 4:00 till 7:00 PM. You are to stay out from underfoot." Professor Petrik said. "Are these three rules clear to you?"

"As clear as ice madam. I hold no objections to any of your requests. And I trust that you will to be equally considerate. Especially in regards to the proficiency and volume of your pupils," He replied. In his mind Agale smiled, pleased to know there would be at least one person to match wits with.

[DocBeard]

"Hallo!" Tomas says cheerfully, masking his quick appraisal of the room with a big, stupid grin. He ambles forward and offers a hand to the tall man. "I am Eisenwald. May I help you with your bags, Mister...?"

[Nerit]

If Nerit heard the explanation of Favonius, she did not make the same kind of shocked reaction. Rather, her hand dropped to her side, the other still grasping the handle of her rattling luggage.


One brow lifted, ever so slightly, upon the words of Petrik. A delightful aging woman, to be sure.


One on the downhill side.


The sister smiled, more broadly than before, and remained silent.

[The Whistler]

"Ah, mademoiselle," Thierri said with an impish smile, "your taste is flawless."

With a wave of Thierri's hand, the two statuettes flanking the center one faded away. The magician gave Celeste a deep bow.

Riotous applause, as befitting the conclusion of a spectacular performance; Celeste bounced up and down on her heels a bit with the energy of it. “Oh, splendid, M. Boucher! Would that your skills were spread as well throughout our laboring classes—I should have my belongings transported by no-one but dashing arcanists.”

The notion realigned the direction of her thoughts somewhat; she cocked her head for half a second, then looked over her shoulder towards the stairs. “But I forget myself! I simply must recompense my former hired men before they depart—I had only engaged them for aid with my Fimbria, but they are no less deserving a gratuity for such a daunting task. It was a most incomparable pleasure to make your acquaintance, M. Boucher—and no less of one for my acquaintance with the whole of this present company!” With an improvised pivot, she turned what had originally been a bow in the magician’s direction into an all-purpose one to the other four people in the hallway—seemingly insensible to the fact that two of them were engrossed in a thorough explication of the Legions Below, one of them had just re-entered the conversation five seconds before, and one of them she hadn’t even met yet.

And then, in a flurry of motion, she was downstairs again, banking herself toward the front door.

“Coo-ee! Maintain yourselves a moment longer, Messieurs! I should be most distressed if you were to remain unremunerated!”

[NeoTiamat]

Kitchen, The Chateau Malchance, Quartier Marchand, Port-a-Lucine; March 9th, 770, 12:29 AM
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"As clear as ice madam. I hold no objections to any of your requests. And I trust that you will to be equally considerate. Especially in regards to the proficiency and volume of your pupils," He replied.

Professor Petrik raised her chin as she scrutinized Agale with narrow eyes. "I do not tolerate poor performance from my students," she said, stiffly.

Upstairs Hall, The Chateau Malchance, Quartier Marchand, Port-a-Lucine; March 9th, 770, 12:29 AM
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"Hallo!" Tomas says cheerfully, masking his quick appraisal of the room with a big, stupid grin. He ambles forward and offers a hand to the tall man. "I am Eisenwald. May I help you with your bags, Mister...?"

The young man blinked a bit at the offered hand before he realized what he was expected to do with it. "Richard Blackwood," he replied, instinctively moving his left hand forward before correcting himself and using the right. Despite his rather bashful air, the man's handshake was firm, and he looked Tomas solidly in the eyes. Even from just the momentary contact, Tomas could feel the scars on the back of Richard's hand.

"I already, uh, moved everything up early this morning. S-sorry," he said, sounding a little embarrassed about it. He turned his head slightly to watch the blur that was Celeste Viardot run by, but all in all, he seemed to take that in stride. "I was just coming up here for, for a pair of pruning shears, actually. I did happen upon Professor Lessard in the hall downstairs. I think he was looking for everyone."

[DocBeard]

Huh, Tomas thinks, must be clumsy.

...sinisterly clumsy...!

Abstract manifestations of humanity's collective unconscious Astral presence!, Tomas swears to himself, you really can't write a proper mystery. The quiet young man with the pruning shears? All of this amounts to Tomas holding on for about a second too long, Eisenwald chuckles and lets go, "Ah, apologizing for saving me a bit of work? I think I'll like you as a tenant, Mssr Blackwood. Unless you happen to be pruning..." Tomas takes a faux sinister voice here, moving his hands around spookily, "The intricacies of your wicked vine of deceit! Vine? No, that doesn't work, and web's overused. Ah! Your choking fern of deceit! Much better."

Clapping Blackwood on the shoulder, Tomas motions to Kerrian. "If you still want to come, I'd hurry. If Lessard stands in one place too long some old friend is liable to walk by and shoot him out of habit."

[Kaitou Kage]

"Crystal clear, Professor."

This time, the good dommer bowed just slightly at the waist. It wasn't a full bow, but it was more than he'd given anyone else since he arrived. His tone was exquisitely polite and his face calm and respectful.

"And now, if you will excuse me," Cyrus said, "I should go ensure my brother hasn't destroyed our room yet. If you hear thumping from our room, pay it no mind. He needs discipline or he gets out of control. I will see you all for lunch."

With that, he turned on his heel and headed toward the stairs.

[yalenusveler]

Kerrian took the verbal barrage of information from Cerise with something she might not be used to. Namely, rapt attention. After taking it all in, he paused a moment, and then tilted his head, as if listening to another speaker for a moment.

"I think I agree with the Akiri and the Phirazians. I mean, nature spirits are kind of like that. Most are just..kinda there, it's how they're interacted with that determines if they're good or bad. If you have a grove, and it's well tended, the spirits there will be pretty nice..but if the Wolf Cult uses it for their...stuff" He paled a moment, as if remembering something sublimely unpleasant, then continued speaking "The tree spirits will be twisted and nasty. Maybe not outright evil...nature's like that, it's not good or bad. Fire burns, it's just...what it burns at the time which makes it good or bad in people's eyes..and..I'm probably not making much sense."

He then realized he was rambling more than a little bit, and quieted down, debating making a break to go unpack, but not exactly wanting to be rude.