Café de Nuit

"If he owns it, don't they have to kind of give it back?" Kerrian asked, looking towards Lia. "I mean, otherwise...taking it and going "Sorry Sir, I'm afraid you can't have your property back." sounds suspiciously like theft and abuse of authority."

Not that anyone in Dementlieu ever abused authority. That was unthinkable.

"Unfortunately 'have to' and 'will' are two different matters, about which expensive lawyers can argue for a very, very long time in Dementlieu," Lia replies, rather dryly.

The Rondelet Residence, Quartier-Savant, Port-a-Lucine; March 10th, 770, 6:21 PM
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Celeste wrote:“Ah, but forgive me, M. Delarue: a mere dilettante must have no place in the conversation when a true connoisseur is present. I merely share my father’s passion for Levi’s legacy, and as such my interest may only be considered secondhand. I should be most eager to learn of your own personal experience with the Mirrors—to say nothing of the Mirror Brilliant, the prize of the collection! However did you come to own it—and what bureaucratic mishap prevents its reclamation?”

"Oh! Are you a fan of M. Levi as well?" Loiseau asked in pleasant surprise. "Tell me, do you know much about them? I had often thought that we should have a showing of the Levi mirrors in their entirety, you know, but I fear I know few people that own such lovely pieces, Dear Hugo aside."

"Simple, madamouselle. I inherited it." M. Delarue favored Celeste with a rather wan smile. She was a pretty girl interested in talking about him, but his heart just wasn't in it. "I'm very distantly related to Leon, by marriage. The Mirror Brilliant was part of my patrimony. And now those thieving wretches at the University refuse to give it up! They cite bureaucracy and paperwork that needs to be done first. The next time I see that slimy Theroux..."

"My pardon, madamouselle." Delarue said, getting his temper under control. He nodded towards Lia. "But I very much fear you are right."

Kerrian wrote:"If he owns it, don't they have to kind of give it back?" Kerrian asked, looking towards Lia. "I mean, otherwise...taking it and going "Sorry Sir, I'm afraid you can't have your property back." sounds suspiciously like theft and abuse of authority."

Lia wrote:"Unfortunately 'have to' and 'will' are two different matters, about which expensive lawyers can argue for a very, very long time in Dementlieu," Lia replies, rather dryly.

"Well! Not if I have anything to say about it! Those university folk have been doing as they please without a by your leave from anyone, and I for one am sick of it!" Madame Loiseau puffed up like an angry hen, apparently oblivious to Professor Lessard sitting directly across from her. "Hugo, I will simply not allow your good-will to be taken advantage of in such a way!"

"Madame, as I have said before, I have no intention of letting it," Delarue said, highly irritated.

"And well you shouldn't! I will talk to Madame Chastel about it direct. And if anyone at the University thinks they can wiggle their way out of their obligations through legal entanglement, they shall have another thing coming to them!" Loiseau promised, dramatically. "I know several prominant judges that simply will not allow such a thing to stand. They're just as sick of the University's arrogant never-you-mind additude as everyone else. And if they still refuse, you must go public with the story and make them return it! I should say that once this horrid misdeed gets out, they will have no choice but to recompense you if they want to remain a part of our society!"

"This notepad..." Tomas trails off, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Blank, but a page has just been ripped from the front, and a pencil was used to make marks. I cannot make out what was written, but the woman was here, and left expecting us."

That said, Tomas begins rifling through the desk's drawers. Maybe she forgot something in her rush to leave! He is not exactly an EXPERT at this, having usually trusted the breaking and entering part of adventuring to other friends more suited to the subtleties of the art.

Still, success! "Hrm, a maker's mark." Tomas mutters, "Eglise Sainte-Madeleine...that means the Church of Saint, well, Madeleine, right?" Tomas asks Nerit, looking intently at a piece of paper that was underneath the skull. "Check this out."



"...so is the turtle the middle class or the academics?" Tomas asks, scratching his head in bumpkinesque wonder.

"Sir, I have some experience with bureaucracies and can tell you that such delays are usually the result of excessive procedure and regulation and sadly no means short of divine intervention will expedite them." Agale stated sympathetically "If you have such a low regard for the University, may I ask what compelled you to loan them the use of the mirror in the first place?"

Cyrus's booted steps clomped dully on the floorboards as he strode around the room. From behind his glasses, his critical gaze surveyed every inch of the small room while Tomas flipped through the notebook.

"Someone has been here before us," he pronounced finally, "And he searched this room looking for something. Whoever it was, he was very intent and professional. It hasn't been long since he was here, perhaps since Canderli was defrauded."

The dommer turned to look at what Tomas had uncovered and his lip curled up in disgust. "Mytteri," he spat, "This is what happens when the order is disrupted. Where is this Church?"

Nerit stepped closer and leaned in to inspect the mark on the skull. "Yes, it looks like the church, I think. What is this, from an ossuary? Why mark it?"
She narrowed her eyes toward the picture and pointed to the snake. "That must be the academics. You see the clerk's hat?"

The nun looked up to Tomas. "How could they expect us?"--and Cyrus-- "Dommer? Unless Canderli was in league with whoever these people are. And you, Thierri? What do you see that supports this?"

She roamed the dark room and frowned at the cross. Cheap...what was that? Chicken scratch? She lifted it off the wall if she could, a shocking display of irreverence for a nun. "'Perrine,'" she read aloud as she inspected the back.

(Clerk's hat is a guess. Perception for anything else: 14.
NPC: Thierri Aid Another Perception as well.)

"I do not believe the woman lived here," Cyrus said coolly, "If she did, then not permanently. There are signs of a very thorough search, as if the person that came here knew he would find something here, but didn't know where." He gestured at an imprint in the dust at the bottom of the crate. "Look there. It has been moved recently and haphazardly."

He glanced over Tomas's shoulder at the page, and his mouth curled up in a snarl. "Mytteri," he snapped, "This is what happens when the people forget their place. They stop contributing their dutiful parts and society breaks down. It will do us well to restore order to this city."

He headed toward the hanging clothes and glanced dully at Nerit. For one so pretty, she could be so dense. But Cyrus supposed that was what happened when you only worshiped a concubine and not a true deity.

"Canderli was not involved," the dommer said in clipped tones, "Whatever her other crimes, she is no thief." He turned toward the clothes and began rummaging.

Perception 24 to look through the clothing to see if there are any significant clues.

Lia's eyes widen noticeably, and here is a slightly odd thing. Their colour can not be truly identified through the veil she wears, which renders the face and all behind it a collection gentle, muted shades of grey, but the shade of Lia's eyes seems to lighten when she opens them wide. The next instant her eyelids sink low again, however, and the moment is gone.

"You are related to the legendary Leon?" the Mordentishwoman asks. "Fascinating ... If you do not mind, I would dearly love to interview you sometime soon on the subject of your family history and family stories of your ancestry; I am a historian, after all. And might I ask, if it is not too forward ... do you possess any other relics from the time of this country's founding with equal gravitas?"

The Rondelet Residence, Quartier-Savant, Port-a-Lucine; March 10th, 770, 6:18 PM
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Mr. Agale wrote:"Sir, I have some experience with bureaucracies and can tell you that such delays are usually the result of excessive procedure and regulation and sadly no means short of divine intervention will expedite them." Agale stated sympathetically "If you have such a low regard for the University, may I ask what compelled you to loan them the use of the mirror in the first place?"

"At the time I loaned them the Mirror Brilliant, I didn't have such a low regard." Delarue pointed out, running a hand through his hair. "It seemed like a good idea at the time, get the Mirror out and about, let people see it... I must've been out of my mind."

Lia wrote:"You are related to the legendary Leon?" the Mordentishwoman asks. "Fascinating ... If you do not mind, I would dearly love to interview you sometime soon on the subject of your family history and family stories of your ancestry; I am a historian, after all. And might I ask, if it is not too forward ... do you possess any other relics from the time of this country's founding with equal gravitas?"

"Yes, yes, arrange it with the housekeeper, she'll take care of it," Delarue said, distractedly, snagging the last of the petite fours from the serving dish. "I'm afraid I can't stay to oblige you tonight. I have some matters I promised to talk over with M. Labarre. I bid you all good night." With a quick bow to you all, Hugo Delarue stood up and quickly took his leave.

Professor Lessard watched him go, only slightly raising an eyebrow at the hasty departure. "We should, regrettably, follow in his suit. I know in my case that student papers do not grade themselves."

"Of course," Madame Elisebeth said, with a gracious smile. "It was a pleasure having all of you. Do feel free to come back to the salon any time you wish." She paused to kiss her niece's cheek. "Cerise, I hope you won't let the University and your new friends keep you too busy to visit us. The dinner table certainly isn't the same without you."

Madame Bonnevie and Monsieur Evrard simply nodded to you in acknowledgement. At some point in the evening Evrard seemed to have developed a massive headache.

"Oh! To have to part so soon! Well, you are certainly right, they won't grade themselves. Don't let those students slip anything past you, my dear professor!" Madame Loiseau said with great fondness, seemingly having completely forgotten her rancor at the University from five seconds ago. Her attention turned to Kerrian with alarming speed. "And you simply must come back and talk about your ball. Do you think it's too early for yellow curtains? And we must figure out about the showing! Oh, I know just the thing! I was just yesterday looking at several of Pinot's bronzes that would look very handsome, you know, but those would go better with green table decorations. And it is simply too early to get raspberries for the punch. We should have to settle for oranges, but that simply will not do with the color scheme. I shall go and ask my boy about it, for he knows all the best restaurants. Oh, and I shall have to see if Girardin will quit his lodging for the party--"

It was some minutes later before you finally managed to extricate yourselves.

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"You know, I read about shapeshifting magical peacocks that would fly down and talk you to death," Cerise said, as you escaped back out onto the street. "They're only supposed to live in Sri Raji. You get rid of them by throwing a mirror at them."

"I'll have to try that at the next department staff meeting," Professor Lessard said dryly.

"But something was certainly chewing M. Delarue up," Cerise continued, a finger pensively to her lips. "He was angry when we brought up the mirror, but the rest of the night he just seemed jittery."

"Professor Theroux thought he might need the mirror back to pay someone off..." Lessard mused.

"Or he could have brain worms planted in his ear!" Cerise suggested, with a toothy grin. "They creep into your head and mind control you with psychic waves! Perhaps they're forcing him to do something unspeakably sinister and he's trying to resist their evil sway? Only you can't resist brain worms, you know, once they're in it's - kkkk!" She made a face, slashing her finger across her neck.

"Yes, well, if anything's certain, it's that this incident isn't going to remain a secret for much longer," Professor Lessard sighed. "And unless Vedarrak has become a vampire in the last nine years, finding him and talking to him tonight might be beyond us at the moment. We might have better luck heading back to the house and trying tomorrow."

Quartier-Ouvrier, Port-a-Lucine; March 10th, 770, 6:29 PM
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Nerit wrote:Nerit stepped closer and leaned in to inspect the mark on the skull. "Yes, it looks like the church, I think. What is this, from an ossuary? Why mark it?"

Kaitou Kage wrote:The dommer turned to look at what Tomas had uncovered and his lip curled up in disgust. "Mytteri," he spat, "This is what happens when the order is disrupted. Where is this Church?"

"Certainly, nothing can absolve these people of daring to get up out of the mud instead of letting the nobles step on them," Thierri said, with a bit of an edge. "But you'll find that when people do as their told and starve for the privilege, they begin to see law as the pretty little lie that it is."

"It's plaster," Thierri explained, picking up the skull and examining it. "Sainte-Madeleine's sells them to help make ends meet. I'll show you where it is." A sly smile touched the magician's lips. "Let's go see if anyone else wants to come with us, first. It's a unique place to visit."

"We should leave," Katja suddenly interrupted. The soldier was still standing in the hall, sword drawn, tilting her head toward the floor as if listening intently for something. "There are men gathering on the street below us. Many men. I do not know if their intentions are toward us, but I do not think we should wait to find out. If we leave the way we came they shouldn't see us - let us go, quickly!"

"Reine-" Thierri began to protest.

"Gone. And so should we be!" Katja said.

Thierri set down the skull with a thunk, closing his hand around the glowing light he held until it vanished. "No need to draw more attention to ourselves," he said, grimly. "Even armed gendarme squads aren't safe in this place."

"He is definetely withholding information about the matter." Agale mused. "If it is as we believe and his only motivation is financial, then I see two likely explanations for his behavior. Either he is complicit in the theft and intends to level suit against the University for the loss of his property or he is aware of a yet unidentified party who has an interest in his assets."

Mr. Agale wrinkled his brow, lost in thought. "If the former is the truth, I would expect him to waste little time both in setting litigation in motion and liquidating the mirror itself into currency through illegitimate markets. This scenario makes it slightly unusual that he would volunteer the mirror for Madam Loiseau's ball, but perhaps he is more canny than he seems.

The latter possibility can be investigated to a point by finding out the identity of his creditors. Although it was not an appropriate inquiry for polite company, We would do well to learn the precise nature of M. Delarue's financial troubles. I also intend to seek gendarme records pertaining to Delarue's residence in case prior attempts have been made on the mirror."

If the hour proves to be too late, perhaps we should arrange an appointment with this Vederrak on the morrow. You mentioned before that you have had prior dealings with the ambassador. If there is anything useful you can recall about him, it would be much obliged."

"Do you really think he's smart enough to organize a theft though? " Kerrian said after a few moments taken coming to grips with the fact that he may have just unintentionally become part of the Dementlieuese social scene.

"He seemed more intent on stuffing his face with pastry than anything important. As for him being so nervous...I don't know. Is there anything to him beyond "I'm related to someone important and own a piece of glassware that's part of history?"" And once that question was poised, something of less import really, directed at Celeste.

"I...I think I might need some help not looking like an idiot if this ball actually happens."

"Organize? No, I suppose not." replied Agale shaking his head with a sigh. "I merely suggest the possibility that he possesses motive. If his fiduciary troubles are as acute as they seem, open sale of the mirror would involve a loss of face that suing the University would not."

"Drawings never hurt anyone." Tomas's tone might be sharper if he was paying attention to Cyrus, but he probably wouldn't have said what he was thinking either. Instead, he's staring intently at the comic, after the others have gotten a glimpse.

Stuffing it in his pocket, Eisenwald turns and nods in agreement with Katja, despite the faint, flickering urge to leap into such a sea of angry, wicked men. As much as his muscles ached to be used, Tomas isn't interested in letting everyone get killed because he's antsy, and takes up the rear, keeping half an eye behind the group just in case something horrible decides to follow them.

Mlle. Rondelet wrote:You know, I read about shapeshifting magical peacocks that would fly down and talk you to death," Cerise said, as you escaped back out onto the street. "They're only supposed to live in Sri Raji. You get rid of them by throwing a mirror at them."

“Oh, Mlle. Rondelet! I thought her to be most refreshingly cheerful—though I freely admit that my own disposition may bias me in her favor.” Celeste grinned in Cerise’s direction with a slightly ironic air. Her sentiment was apparently sincere, though, as Celeste had been an active accomplice in Mme. Loiseau’s ill-timed party planning: you’d practically had to drag her out of the house in the middle of a salmon mousse recipe.

M. Mauganson wrote:"Do you really think he's smart enough to organize a theft though? " Kerrian said after a few moments taken coming to grips with the fact that he may have just unintentionally become part of the Dementlieuese social scene.

"He seemed more intent on stuffing his face with pastry than anything important. As for him being so nervous...I don't know. Is there anything to him beyond "I'm related to someone important and own a piece of glassware that's part of history?"

“I respectfully agree. Try as I did to suspect the gentleman of misdemeanor, my forgiving soul only beheld a poor, destitute collector: dearly wishing his most priceless possession to be returned to his care, but lacking the impetus to accomplish it!” She frowned in mild frustration. “What a severe mistress, Investigation: bidding us seek out the base in our fellow-beings, when we should rightly uphold their more noble qualities! Were it not in the service of Art and Country, I declare I should be most ill-suited for it.”

M. Mauganson wrote:"I...I think I might need some help not looking like an idiot if this ball actually happens."

Thankfully, this last banished all thought of the interrogations from Celeste’s head: she beamed at Kerrian as if he had just been elevated to sainthood. “Oh, M. Mauganson…! You need only to ask—consider my assistance most enthusiastically tendered! The valiant forces of my wardrobe allowance shall be brought to bear en masse upon your person: by the time their work is done, you shall appear worthy of the dukedom your noble character deserves! At very least, a marquisate.” She giggled—and then stared rather fixedly at the Verbrekan, inspecting his person from top to bottom with a thoughtful air.

“…How do you feel about cravats?”