The Shattered City: Chapter One

[NeoTiamat]

Guignol Museum, University of Dementlieu, Port-a-Lucine; March 9th, 770, 7:34 PM
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"We are a very, very old family," Cyrus said, quite congenial despite the viper smile. "We go back many, many generations. We have a few townhouses in Toyalis, and many of our relatives are clergy. So perhaps you had a chance encounter."

"My immediate superior is Aerkebiskop Turasan Kadri," he continued in answer to the professor's last question, "He is quite a man."

"So Turasan's actually made Aerkebiskop. He was only lobbying for the position when we last spoke." Marchand-Renier raised a brow. "One can't help but wonder how many casualties there were during his ascent to power."

"I worked through his office when I was in Toyalis. He has quite a collection of Vossath Nor artifacts, not surprising considering his interest in matters arcane." The Richemuloise academic said by way of explanation. "Though we'd met before, as a matter of fact. Devereux, you remember Biskop Kadri?"

"Only... a little." Devereux said, after a moment's thought. "Very quiet... man."

This last was said with a certain sense of mild dubiousness.

"I don't mean to be rude, but isn't having the grand masquerade right now kind of stupid?" Kerrian suddenly piped up with, having made his way over to Sebastien. "With everyone masked, an anarchist could slip in easily. And despite the nobility caring about art and culture, people who can't manage to make ends meet won't care so much if the new Lemerciers get spattered with blood."

"You, my friend, are obviously not an aristocrat." Professor Marchand-Renier murmurred. "Entirely too much common sense."

"You're right, of course." The academic shrugged, though there was a glitter of frustration in his eyes. "But given the choice between possibly dying and missing a ball, well, you know what most people around here would choose..."

"Professor, your class biases are showing." Lessard murmurred quietly.

"Quite." Marchand-Renier snorted. "Still, I understand that there will be some security there, Ezra alone knows how they plan to manage it. LaGrange will be there, so probably magic will be involved."

The nun sidled up to Richard with her hands clasped in front of her. "A most fascinating display, wouldn't you say, M. Blackwood?" Her eyes were clearly focused on the central conversation, and her voice was far less timid than it had been earlier that afternoon.

"There are a, a great deal of them here, Sister. Which one has caught your eye?" Richard asked, frowning slightly. His eyes seemed engaged in the same manner as hers, looking back towards the other conversation, though on occasion they would settle rather firmly on Nerit herself. His face betrayed very little beyond that, however. If he recognized another meaning in Sister Doherty's words - or in his response, for that matter - he did not seem inclined to acknowledge it at the moment.

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"Professor Lessard, my highest compliments to your taste in spectacle," Thierri stated. Denied the ability to smoke by several arch looking gendarmerie, he was instead dancing a copper bit across his knuckles. "This humble magician knows a master when he sees it. What else could transform a brutal, meaningless death in the mud into a most glorious and enviable fate? I bow to the superior performance." The magician pressed his fingertips together, kissing them.

"Glory, Mr. Boucher? They thought nothing of it," Katja said quietly, her arms folded behind her back, from where she was examining a suit of Falkovnian chainmail. "The life of the soldier is not a glorious one. They endured it for duty. They fought for family and country, and were willng to lay down their lives for it. That is what gives them glory."

"And the marshes and graveyards of Dementlieu are much improved for it," Thierri replied. "Family and country would have been better served by their lives than their deaths."

[yalenusveler]

"Quite." Marchand-Renier snorted. "Still, I understand that there will be some security there, Ezra alone knows how they plan to manage it. LaGrange will be there, so probably magic will be involved."

"If I were an aristocrat, what I would do is host a ball where to get in, one had to give money to a collection that goes towards feeding and providing for the poor. " Kerrian said after a moment's thought.

"Even if after the ball, you stopped caring, if you donated enough and were public enough you could make it look like you cared, and if any of the anarchists struck at you, it made it look like they were just holding a grudge and not trying to improve people's lives any and the poor who supported them might switch sides. Maybe even give up hiding spots."

He had one of those almost smiles at the moment, like someone who had just come up with something exceedingly clever, like the written word, or perhaps fire.

"It would look good for the host, and the guests."

[DocBeard]

"I seem to remember you had a run-in with the Church some time ago," he continued. "I never thought I'd be meeting you face-to-face, let alone living with you."

"I exercise a lot." If Tomas is at all affected by Cyrus's lack of reaction, or Sebastian and Remy's ignoring him, it doesn't break through the Lamordian's dim smile. His voice, however, is a bit more together as Cyrus gets close enough.

"If there's going to be trouble, I'd sincerely appreciate it if we could take it outside." There's a certain resignation in his voice, as Tomas sticks his hands in his pockets, eyes flicking to the left and right as he mentally assesses potential exits. "I've caused these people enough trouble without humiliating them in public."

A frown flickers at Boucher and Katja's conflicting opinions, because both make him want to break something apart with his bare hands, and a dark little part of Tomas almost hopes the brothers are here to kill him. "But for the record, I'm..." Tomas pauses, weighs his options, and gives a little shrug. "...reasonably innocent of any wrongdoing."

[Kaitou Kage]

"Trouble?" Cyrus asked, his smile widening, "You are very quick to assume. I wonder if that's what got you in trouble in the first place." The priest shook his head. The light glanced off his shaved scalp and the eyes tattooed on his head seemed to stare at Tomas.

"I am not here to create any trouble for you, Eisenwald," he said and paused, adjusting his glasses, "After all, you are reasonably innocent. We know that is what ultimately matters, right?"

[NeoTiamat]

Guignol Museum, University of Dementlieu, Port-a-Lucine; March 9th, 770, 7:42 PM
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"If I were an aristocrat, what I would do is host a ball where to get in, one had to give money to a collection that goes towards feeding and providing for the poor. " Kerrian said after a moment's thought.

"Clever," Professor Lessard sighed. "And it might even work, if everyone else was just as clever."

"The unfortunate concequence of education costing money is that the working class is just as prejudiced, closed minded, and stupid as their noble brethren, if not more so," Marchand-Renier concurred. "I'm afraid Conrad Tessier was quite active in aiding poor houses and soup kitchens in the Quartier Ouvrier. It was overshadowed, of course, by his famous gallery."

"Which only proves M. Mauganson correct," Thierri said. Katja had stopped responding to him, and he seemed to be getting fidgety without a cigarette in hand, which had brought him back over to the main group. "The unfortunate Tessier should have cared less and advertised more."

"To prominently attach your name to charity is arrogance, and to fail to do as much leaves it to be forgotten the next day," Marchand-Renier replied. "Very little mattered beyond how much attention his death would garner, I'll wager."

"The church is not well thought of, I hear, but the Icon of, of Ezra is well known for offering succor to those in need," Richard added, looking unsure if he should have opened his mouth and said anything. "That didn't stop someone from trying to, to melt it down a month ago. It seems even such a holy relic was tainted by association."

"Hoo boy..." Cerise said, with the kind of laugh that indicated the person laughing did not actually find the situation very funny. "Ezra sure made her opinion on that clear."

Insight Check DC 14

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"Ah, well," Lia says with a mild gesture, as if she were flicking dust off of her sleeve. "Ezra. Enough said, really."

The next moment, Lia seems to notice something and she smiles a grim little smile. "One rather doubts," she says in a lower tone of voice, pitched for the ears of those in her immediate vicinity, "that anyone who is foolish enough to try for a bit of grandstanding would be overly successful in this museum tonight.

Rather a lot of gendarmes seem to be enjoying the city's fine art and trophies, aren't there?"

(OOC: Insight check 24)

[Kaitou Kage]

"Enough said indeed, Professor," Cyrus stepped away from Tomas and came up beside Cerise. "But do not worry. We in the Church of the Lawgiver will provide. It is, after all, our duty to protect those less fortunate than ourselves."

Anyone who had come on the tour might suddenly recall that Cyrus stopped several times to place coin in beggars' cups and pronounce the Lawgiver's blessing. Once he had stopped to aid a woman pick up the contents of a bag she'd dropped, and another time he helped a man lift a heavy box onto a cart.

"I do wonder about your theory, though, Professor," he continued, "If there are a lot of gendarme here, wouldn't it be an apt opportunity for a surprise attack? Try to strike a blow to many noble law enforcement agents at once? The bringers of Myttri are not always known for their rational behavior."

[The Whistler]

"Glory, Mr. Boucher? They thought nothing of it," Katja said quietly, her arms folded behind her back, from where she was examining a suit of Falkovnian chainmail. "The life of the soldier is not a glorious one. They endured it for duty. They fought for family and country, and were willng to lay down their lives for it. That is what gives them glory."

"And the marshes and graveyards of Dementlieu are much improved for it," Thierri replied. "Family and country would have been better served by their lives than their deaths."

“What is simple motivation, in the face of this? Celeste had gravitated over to the mural, by now, speaking quietly to the two spectators while examining the tableau in front of her. “Each one of these dear men must have laid claim to the most diverse array of motives for their service—each utterly noble, no doubt! But what, pray tell, becomes of it, four hundred years hence?”

She gestured at the mural, smiling softly. “M. Boucher, I submit that it is the story that truly carries weight, upon final examination. At the least, this is what I most treasure about our immutable past…with the passing of years, the beauty of each individual effort becomes something grander still.”

"I do wonder about your theory, though, Professor," he continued, "If there are a lot of gendarme here, wouldn't it be an apt opportunity for a surprise attack? Try to strike a blow to many noble law enforcement agents at once? The bringers of Myttri are not always known for their rational behavior."

“But one would hope that they have taste, M. Isfahani!” Celeste had gravitated over to his group as well, in the interim. “The gendarmerie, Lady bless them, may be found in any number of places...and far be it from myself to adjudge the motives of such poor, misguided souls, but surely such a rarefied setting would be hardly relevant to whatever ethos they espouse. I have always maintained that Dame Art should remain separate from mere political concerns, no?

[Nerit]

"There are a, a great deal of them here, Sister. Which one has caught your eye?" Richard asked

Nerit merely winked at Richard and returned her full attention to the group.

(Insight: 17)

There were a great deal of spectacles, and only in the conversations going on, to be sure.

"Ah, well," Lia says with a mild gesture, as if she were flicking dust off of her sleeve. "Ezra. Enough said, really."

Nerit tilted her head to the veiled woman, a slow expression creeping up her lips to the corners of her mouth. Condescension.

"Pray tell, Mlle. Proffeseur, what is enough said? Enlighten the less informed."

[Cronax]

"Quite the contrary Miss Viardot." Mr. Agale responded dryly. "Art is inextricable from the circumstances which inspire it." He paused in recollection, "Take Pinot's 'Margraves of Lake Country' for instance. A representative piece of the period by most accountings, and inextricable from the politics happening at the time of its casting." He adds with a smirk "Methinks until artists can learn to ply their craft without a need for patronage, their works will fall short of your ideal."

insight 20

[DocBeard]

(OOC: Got a 30 on the insight, figure I should see what that means before posting.)

[NeoTiamat]

Guignol Museum, University of Dementlieu, Port-a-Lucine; March 9th, 770, 7:48 PM
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"Ah, well," Lia says with a mild gesture, as if she were flicking dust off of her sleeve. "Ezra. Enough said, really."

"It was still an ill act, regardless," Richard said quietly. The younger Blackwood stood stiffly, frowning, polite and yet unyielding. "I shall hope, professor, you do not find our company to be as tainted by the association."

It could have easily sounded petulant, but there was no anger or reprimand in Richard's address. He sounded more mournful than anything.

"Enough said indeed, Professor," Cyrus stepped away from Tomas and came up beside Cerise. "But do not worry. We in the Church of the Lawgiver will provide. It is, after all, our duty to protect those less fortunate than ourselves."

"Is it, now?" Alice asked, rather coolly. "How very good of you."

Richard did not seem compelled enough to say anything.

Nerit tilted her head to the veiled woman, a slow expression creeping up her lips to the corners of her mouth. Condescension.

"Pray tell, Mlle. Proffeseur, what is enough said? Enlighten the less informed."

"I, perhaps a question for another, ah, time, Sister?" Richard tried, perhaps futilely, rubbing the back of his head. "The museum will be closing in not too long."

“Each one of these dear men must have laid claim to the most diverse array of motives for their service—each utterly noble, no doubt! But what, pray tell, becomes of it, four hundred years hence?”

She gestured at the mural, smiling softly. “M. Boucher, I submit that it is the story that truly carries weight, upon final examination. At the least, this is what I most treasure about our immutable past…with the passing of years, the beauty of each individual effort becomes something grander still.”

"Mademoiselle, I agreed with you," Theirri protested, palming the coin more agitatedly now. "What becomes of anyone once death claims them? The truth of them is rotted away - only a paper shell of half-guesses and lies are left, pasted together by others into their image. You must not think my stated admiration insincere. Faerie-tales and falsehoods are the greatest of mankind's affectations."

"To treat the memory of the dead like that dishonors them," was all Katja had to say.

[DocBeard]

Tomas keeps his personal beliefs about Lia's personal beliefs to himself, frowning a little at the enduring bitterness in her voice but otherwise looking at the nice dead men in badly made armor.

That was rude, Tomas chastises himself, but it's true. Gutvater would break out in a rash if he saw the construction. "I kind of like it." Tomas offers, a bit shyly because this is the worldwide capital of art, and he is in many ways still a Lamordian bumpkin. "The whole story's more honest than most things about war." The mud and feces is just as likely to kill you as some heroic wound.

"You know, I was helping a Sanguini prince with a raiding tribe. Trogdolites, mostly." It's not Story Time; Tomas doesn't seem to take the earnest joy he usually possesses when telling...or making up...a story. "This guy, Rikard, he takes a hit in the gut, tells me to leave him behind, he's dead anyway."

Tomas doesn't bother explaining how he'd respond to that, figuring it should be obvious. "So I talked the surgeon's boy into helping me wrap the wound up. I make this story up about Rikard having gone on this trip to afford a dowry for his childhood sweetheart, and there's nothing more sentimental than an old soldier so pretty quick we have about five of us willing to take turns carrying the guy and watching our collective back. Wasn't exactly easy-I'll spare everyone der details, but the poor guy had to deal with the pain of the wound, the blood loss, the frostbite he'd started to get from redressing the wound....but, finally, we make it back to town, warm beds, and food that isn't being made of rock they pretend is bread. Everyone feels like heroes."

"Next day, I'm up early, but I decide to say goodbye since my obligation is finished." Tomas turns to make eye contact, smiling hollowly. "The man's wound got infected from dirty sheets, bedbugs, sudden rise in his yellow bile...whatever." Tomas shrugs at this, adds, "I'm going to go ahead, make sure Andrei hasn't been waiting on us." and moves to do so.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"Enough said indeed, Professor," Cyrus stepped away from Tomas and came up beside Cerise. "But do not worry. We in the Church of the Lawgiver will provide. It is, after all, our duty to protect those less fortunate than ourselves."

Lia gives Cyrus a cool, almost reptilian look at this. "Indeed," is all she says to his words, however. "I have been to Hazlan, did I mention? The care that the Lawgiver's clergy provide for the unfortunate folk was quite apparent."

Nerit tilted her head to the veiled woman, a slow expression creeping up her lips to the corners of her mouth. Condescension. "Pray tell, Mlle. Proffeseur, what is enough said? Enlighten the less informed."

"Let me then suffice to say," Lia replies, her own face now quite expressionless, "that I have had poor experiences with the faithful of Ezra, and she is not one of my favourite deities. I once read a treatise that described her as 'the goddess who can't make up her mind', and she certainly does attract some ... unfortunate ... worshipers. Consider the zealous hunt for wickedness in Darkon, or the political sidewinding of the Home Faith in Borca, for instance. I am not surprised that the faith of Ezra has its ... critics. And some of them are likely not creatures of the dark."

"It was still an ill act, regardless," Richard said quietly. The younger Blackwood stood stiffly, frowning, polite and yet unyielding. "I shall hope, professor, you do not find our company to be as tainted by the association." It could have easily sounded petulant, but there was no anger or reprimand in Richard's address. He sounded more mournful than anything.

"Of course, sir, this definitely was an ill act," Lia concedes, bowing her head to Richard. "I will not deny that."

The Mage sighs. "Regardless my personal opinion of many of Ezra's more zealous followers, as well as the ethically dubious ones, I will not deny that she is a both a source of comfort and of security to many people who would otherwise be sorely troubled. And I will admit I respect the general mission of the Mordentish See. A genuine desire to protect the helpless and the weak against clear and proven evil is something I applaud and support.

And of course it is difficult to really have anything against the Dementlieuse See, as it seems to concern itself mostly with the retrieval of ancient knowledge these days. In that area, I feel I can relate to them rather well. Alas, I myself can not relate to Ezra.

Shall we simply agree to respect each other's positions in this matter? I do not wish to deny anyone else their faith, and would appreciate if I am likewise left to my own religious devices."

[Kaitou Kage]

Lia gives Cyrus a cool, almost reptilian look at this. "Indeed," is all she says to his words, however. "I have been to Hazlan, did I mention? The care that the Lawgiver's clergy provide for the unfortunate folk was quite apparent."

"And in Hazlan, we do not have the --" Cyrus smiled and made a vague, all-encompassing gesture "-- relentless upheaval and borderline anarchy you have here."