The Shattered City: Chapter Three

[Kaitou Kage]

Cyrus sniffed disdainfully at Kerrian's talk of rituals and low magic and seemed surprised when Lia took the commoner seriously. The dommer glanced at his brother and then snapped his gaze back to the farmer when the Reniers were mentioned.

"Christophe?" he asked. "Does he look like a wrestler?"

[DocBeard]

Part of Tomas wants to say, 'Leave the farmer alone, guys, he's exhausted' but this is important information. Bandit gang rounded up by the Gendarme, eh? Funny how they didn't get any information about that from the Marquis.

"City folk." Eisenwald agrees in the manner of agrarians everywhere; he became city folk himself years ago, but can still make the language. "I shall see if I cannot have a word with them, then."

"I am Eisenwald, by the way. Let me know if my associates and I can be of any assistance." The words are simple, but the tone is earnest, as though this were something real instead of a social nicety. He starts walking into town proper, then, figuring that the doctor's is as good a place as any to start.

[lostboy]

"He just got here, though, so I couldn't tell you anything useful. Better off asking him direct. Don't understand half of what he says, never have."

"A new doctor you say?" Nicholas asks looking up from the folio he had been scribbling in since his hangover had finally relented at about 11 o'clock. In fact it had relented so much he was back occasionally sipping on the silver flask.

Putting the notebook away, the poet joins the others clustered around the plow. "I don't blame you for taking no chances, fire is often the only sure way to cleanse the sickness." Nicholas says gazing across the fields absently, then profferign the flask he adds "something to keep your spirits up, eh?"

"Now where might we find your doctor-in training?"

[NeoTiamat]

Troischamps, a few miles outside of Port-a-Lucine; Mid-afternoon of April 21st, 770
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Kerrian frowned "I'm sorry I couldn't give more optimistic news.."

The farmer didn't look terribly surprised. "About what I expected," was all he replied.

"Christophe?" he asked. "Does he look like a wrestler?"

"Sounds about right," the farmer confirmed. "He looked like he could put a solid dent in something, if it came down to it."

"Now where might we find your doctor-in training?"

"I don't drink," the farmer said to the offered flask. In response to the other question, he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, indicating a small farmhouse at the edge of the field. "Back there," he said. "Knock on the door and say you're looking for him. He's my son."

"I am Eisenwald, by the way. Let me know if my associates and I can be of any assistance." The words are simple, but the tone is earnest, as though this were something real instead of a social nicety. He starts walking into town proper, then, figuring that the doctor's is as good a place as any to start.

The farmer gave Tomas another nod. "Reynard Boucher," he answered Tomas' name with his own. Seeing that Eisenwald was heading into town, Reynard picked up his plow, and set back to work.

[Nerit]

Nerit's eyes danced over the tips of the grass. "Monsieur, I beg you to warn the rest of the village of this blighted rye, if they are not as careful as you are. I would not want anyone to get Ignis Sacer, the Holy Fire.* It is a most horrible illness."

She listened to the crunch of gravel and dirt under her heel as she shifted her balance.

"Boucher?" she asked, and looked between her companions, probably leaving, and the farmer. "Monsieur...your son, the one who lives here, is he all right?"

*cf St. Anthony's Fire, one of the proposed causes behind bewitchment.

[The Whistler]

“…Reynard Boucher?”

There was a brief, pulse-pounding moment, during which you could see Celeste painstakingly decide not to extensively and enthusiastically interrogate the person she had just met on the street concerning his complete personal history and Thierri’s complete personal history, and then to invite him and his entire extended family back to her house in the city for tea and scones. This man was in the middle of plowing a field, after all. That probably took concentration.

“…A pleasure to meet you, Sir! I am Celeste Mirielle Viardot, of Bienassis—perhaps we shall meet again during our band’s sojourn in your lovely village. Until then, I thank you for your assistance!”

And with that, she strode into town behind Tomas.

[Kaitou Kage]

Cyrus's jaw started aching again when he remembered the pounding Christophe gave him during their friendly wrestling match at the Gymnasium a couple months back. Put a dent in something indeed, he thought wryly. Cyrus had fought many men but few possessed Christophe's sheer muscle power.

"It is good the gendarme took care of some matters," he mused, "It proves that Mytteri has not fully taken hold. Brother, let us go see if we can find the Reniers or the gendarmes."

[lostboy]

"I don't drink,"

"And very sensible too if you are operating heavy machinery" Nicholas nods sagely, "Nicholas de Castaigne by the way" he adds as an afterhtought.

A further question is on the end of his tongue but Nerit beats him to the punch, as it is he casts a sidelong look at the Nun, before watching the farmers reaction..

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"I rather suspect Mr. Boucher's son is not well," Lia says, taking a renewed interest in the farmer. "If he were, surely he would be assisting his father, as a dutiful son should."

[yalenusveler]

"With the amount of energy you'd need to get corruption this strong, I doubt anyone would be."Kerrian said with a wince. "I could try to get more information from the plants, find out when this started. But with how this blight is, I don't know if I could get a clear answer."

On one hand, at least it wasn't mirror tainted elementals. On the other, necrotically corrupted ones weren't likely much better.

"Someone did something big here, involving a great deal of necromancy. We need to find out who, what, and why..and put a stop to it." Kerrian then turned to Lia "It's possible he's either resting, or with a patient. I'm not a doctor or a mage, but I imagine that something like this blighting crops couldn't be good for the health of people either. Still, we should probably meet with him..."

[NeoTiamat]

Boucher Farmstead, a few miles outside of Port-a-Lucine; Mid-afternoon of April 21st, 770
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Nerit's eyes danced over the tips of the grass. "Monsieur, I beg you to warn the rest of the village of this blighted rye, if they are not as careful as you are."

"I think they have an inkling about it, bonne soeur," Reynard replied practically.

"Boucher?" she asked, and looked between her companions, probably leaving, and the farmer. "Monsieur...your son, the one who lives here, is he all right?"

"I rather suspect Mr. Boucher's son is not well," Lia says, taking a renewed interest in the farmer. "If he were, surely he would be assisting his father, as a dutiful son should."

"He's dying, if that's what you mean," Reynard replied, still pushing his plow. Like his son, there was barely any change in demeanor, maybe just a terser tone. It didn't matter. It was obvious the farmer was angry.

"I'm not sure what brings a group of priests and magicians into our town," Reynard finally said, giving you all a firm eye, "but if you're looking for that hound there's not been hide nor hair of it since it attacked my son."


Center of Troischamps, a few miles outside of Port-a-Lucine; Mid-afternoon of April 21st, 770
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"It reminds me of home." Katja said quietly as you entered the village square of Troischamps. "Only wealthier."

In truth, it was difficult to imagine the humble village of Troischamps as 'wealthy' by any stretch of the imagination. Its lone square, little more than the intersection of its lone two roads, was unpaved, and it was a rude, simple little place. And yet, there was none of the crushing poverty that plagued the urban poor of the Quartier Ouvrier. In all but the worst harvests, farmers could still eat. So perhaps there was something to Katja's words after all.

In any case, it took you less than five minutes to find the Reniers. Inconspicious, they were not.

"...So the Piper, dressed up in all his colors, reds and greens and blues and yellows, said to the town elders. 'I'll get rid of your rats for you, but only if you pay me in gold.' And the town elders, they all said whatever would get the Piper to stay, because the rats were everywhere." Christophe Renier spread his hands wide, encompassing the whole village of Troischamps around him. "There were rats in the church, nibbling on the candles. There were rats in the pantries, nibbling on the food. There were even rats in the bedrooms, nibbling on your toes!"

At this his young audience giggled, mostly because Christophe illustrated by wiggling all ten fingers in a manner that likely no one this side of Vechor could have found intimidating. There were perhaps a half dozen of the village youth, ranging in ages from five to twelve, seated about and listening to the young mans stories. Admittedly, the well-dressed and broad-shouldered Christophe attracted at least as much attention as the story.

There was also the chance to ogle Bertriz Renier. If Christophe looked mildly out of place, he was at least a husky young man, athletic and well built. His older cousin was a visage straight from a story of the Winter Queen. Pale skin, fine, aristocratic features, and dark, hazel eyes were all unusual enough on its own, but Bertriz was a significant beauty, and it would be safe to say that her near-white hair attracted as much attention from the young men of Troischamps as Christophe's story did from the children.

In any case, Bertriz sat on a bench near Christophe, regarding the world with a deep look of aristocratic boredom, and talking occasionally to a chubby, mustachioed man who shared the bench with her.

[Kaitou Kage]

"Christophe Renier," Cyrus called, sounding genuinely pleasant for a change, "What brings you all the way out here? You are the last person I expected to see in this village."

The dommer made his way around the children. He stuck his hand out in greeting and adjusted his glasses. He smiled at Bertriz, then looked back to the wrestler.

"What happens next?" he asked smoothly, "Does a hero save the children from the rats or does this story end more darkly?"

[Cronax]

The flywheels of Agale's mind spun up when the farmer revealed his name. In the lawyer's mind, a more accurate picture of Thierri's life developed in his mind's eye. A lad constrained by the meager means of his upbringing who turns to parlor tricks and con games to make a name for himself in Port-Au-Lucine proper. As a rule, Agale did not approve of charlatanry, but he estimation did hold respect for a self made man.

"Our motivations are varied and tangential Mr. Boucher, but you may be confident that our intentions do coincide with your own. If we are to successfully aid your son, it will probably be necessary to track down the aforementioned beast. Where precisely did the altercation with this hound occur and under what circumstances? We would also like to interview , but understand if his condition has progressed to the point where even consultation would be detrimental."

[The Whistler]

"What happens next?" he asked smoothly, "Does a hero save the children from the rats or does this story end more darkly?"

Cyrus found himself on the receiving end of a *whap* on the shoulder from Celeste's fan--not a hard one, more of a playful "shush".

"Does the Dommer have experience with children's stories?" She smiled. "Next, you shall tell me that, in Hazlan, the wolves are capable of toppling even brick houses."

She cleared her throat, addressing Christophe with some degree of self-aware theatricality. "Proceed, M. Renier!"

[Nathan of the FoS]

"Next, you shall tell me that, in Hazlan, the wolves are capable of toppling even brick houses."

"You're thinking of Kartakass, mademoiselle," Darius replies. It's not quite clear whether he's joking or not.