The Shattered City: Chapter One

[Rock of the Fraternity]

Lia suppresses a wince before it materializes. 'Foolish,' she thinks to herself, carefully not shaking her head. 'That is a claim easy enough to corroborate or disprove. And some of us are quite well-known at the University.'

[NeoTiamat]

The Apothecary of Sevgi Canderli, Quartier-Marchand, Port-a-Lucine; March 10th, 770, 4:16 PM
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"We are not here in any of the official capacity! I mean." Tomas looks like he wants to clap his knee but decides to keep his spare hand unmoving, palm open so as to indicate that he is not hiding a weapon. "That'd be crazy! My friend here just got recommended your shop for something from Hazlan that he misses, that's all!"

"Is there something the matter?" Cyrus asked coyly. He grinned, and the fanged viper on the man's scalp seemed to grin, too, as its eyes bored into Sevgi. The priest adjusted his glasses and then patiently let his hands fall to his sides in a non-threatening manner. "You act like I should be here to try and exert authority over you, Canderli. Is there something I should know?"

"No." Canderli hissed, looking at Cyrus coldly. Visibly, the woman closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her body relaxing by inches as she did so. When Mme. Canderli looked back at you, she was calmer, though there was still no love in her eyes. "I am afraid, M'sieurs, that you have come at a bad time. Please accept my apologies, and allow me to recommend to you the name of a very good apothecary on Rue Charvagne, not far from here."

"Mistress Canderli, is something the matter?" A new, deep bass voice sounded from behind you. It was one of the Rashemi card-players from across the street, drawn to the sound of the confrontation. His fellow gamesmen were there as well. None of them were as tall as Tomas, let alone Cyrus, and none were armed... but they were nevertheless a small pack of young, broad-shouldered men who were looking at Cyrus and Tomas without any particular sympathy.

"No, Asil, nothing is the matter." Canderli assured him. The unspoken yet hung in the air.

Pelay Residence, Quartier-Savant, Port-a-Lucine; March 10th, 770, 4:16 PM
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"You may tell him we are representatives from the University. As I'm sure you are aware, your master has recently published a new book and we are very interested in speaking with him."

"Yes sir. Right this way sir." Whatever the maid thought of Mr. Agale's words, she made no comment, merely opening the door and ushering the group inside.

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"Finally, Madeleine. This tea you brought me is off. Go and get me another cup, and do it right this time." Jacques Pelay was not entirely what one would assume upon hearing of rumor. He was a little under average height, but remarkably good-looking, a brown-haired Adonis with lively green eyes and a quick smile. He gestured you towards the couchs in his reception room. "Please, have a seat." Pelay looked into his tea cup and made a face. "You would think the stupid girl would learn to make tea."

Madeleine accepted her rebuke without a word and withdrew, though there was a barely-perceptible hardening around her eyes as she did so. The reception room was small and cozy, and with that particular style of decoration that implied that it was not M. Pelay who did the decorating, nor his parents or possibly even grandparents before him. Pelay himself was in a green doublet and brown pants, comfortable house-wear, though still expensive and well-made.

"You'll have to excuse my appearance, I'm afraid I wasn't expecting visitors." M. Pelay smiled and leaned forward. "How may I help you?"

[Kaitou Kage]

Cyrus's viper smile widened as he surveyed the toughs. How amusing, he thought, She has bodyguards.

"Oh!" he said, "Are these your servants, Canderli?" He managed to ask the question without really addressing the Rashemi. After all, it wouldn't befit a good Mulan man to consort with these scum, even so far from home.

"In any case," he continued, "I hear that what I am looking for can only be found in your shop because it is only made in our beloved homeland. I'm sure you, as an apothecary, are familiar with gal-zuur? My brother's birthday is coming soon and he is a mage, so I thought to present him with some for use in his etchings. I know it is rare and expensive, but if you have any at all, I would like to know your price."

The dommer was congenial enough, though the ever-present veneer of oil shimmered just slightly on the surface. Behind the dark glasses, his eyes darted around the shop.

Perception 20 to see if I notice any indications of a recent theft or break-in, especially if she says she's out of gal-zuur. Cyrus knows she's really not interested in his business at all, but he suspects she might not have willingly provided the gal-zuur.

[DocBeard]

I could take them, Tomas thought to himself, not really looking at the toughs. But it'd give the woman a chance to...

Besides, it'd be wrong. "Look, obviously we've gone about this the wrong way..." Tomas holds a hand up, doing his best to look a little nervous so that Canderli will continue to think he is harmless. "...now I see why you were needing a guide in your own district, mine heir..." This is said a little clownishly, because there's nothing like a joke to defuse a tense situation. "...but for what it's worth, that really is all the fellow wants to know. If I had any idea this was a sort of...cultural thing, I'd have just come in myself! Golly. Would you feel more comfortable if sie badnik investigated the bar down the street?"

(...12 diplomacy to try and calm the situation down.)

[Cronax]

"You would think the stupid girl would learn to make tea."

"Indeed, it is becoming harder and harder to find competent help in this day and age." Mr. Agale said with a shake of his head. Keeping his gaze firmly upon Mr. Pelay, Agale snapped his fingers and spoke with detached authority "Valet. Do make yourself useful and ensure that the tea is properly prepared." hoping that Mr. Mauganson would take advantage of the opening.

"You'll have to excuse my appearance, I'm afraid I wasn't expecting visitors." M. Pelay smiled and leaned forward. "How may I help you?"

"No excuse is necessary, we did after all arrive unanounced." He lets his gaze trail to the kitchen door with a sneer implying that menials were to blame. "To put it simply, my associates and I are very interested in your ideas and works, especially as they might be adapted to other mediums." Theatre, political crimes, and opera were all mediums he mused to himself.

Diplomacy 34 (Sorry about all the luck I'm stealing)

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"Indeed," Lia says noncommittally as she sits down next to Agale. "Your name is on the lips of people in all quarters of the city these days. We felt we should make your acquaintance."

[NeoTiamat]

The Apothecary of Sevgi Canderli, Quartier-Marchand, Port-a-Lucine; March 10th, 770, 4:16 PM
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"Servants...?" Sevgi Canderli fixed Cyrus with a basilisk gaze. The woman shifted behind one of the counters, carefully keeping her eyes on the three newcomers. She shifted to look towards Tomas, and in a barely-accented voice said. "M'sieur, you and your friend are no longer welcome in my shop. I will ask one final time. Remove yourselves."

"You heard Mistress Canderli." One of the Rashemi youths placed a heavy hand on Cyrus's shoulder. There was a low, angry murmur from the other Rashemi. "You're leaving."

Decision time: You can either leave quietly, or the Rashemi are going to evict you by force.

[yalenusveler]

Kerrian didn't verbally respond to Mr.Agale's little bit of instruction. Instead, just a simple nod, and a quick egress to begin looking for the young woman who the master of the house treated rather rudely. And probably a good thing too, otherwise Kerrian would've likely said some things which were...rather unkind. And that's never a good way to conduct diplomacy.

[Kaitou Kage]

"Don't you dare touch me," the Lawgiver priest hissed.

Cyrus's expression frosted over completely as soon as the Rashemi touched him. His lip curled in disgust and he roughly shook the youth's hand off his shoulder, then pushed him away. Tension hung in the air for a moment as it looked like Cyrus would meet the challenge. His eyes narrowed behind his glasses and he stared daggers into the offending Rashemi.

Then he straightened himself and smoothed his robes. He smiled politely at Sevgi. "I am sad to see you refuse my business," the priest said, "I was worried your shop might have been broken into. It is too bad you cannot see my intentions in your shop are purely commercial. If you have a change of heart, and come into some gal-zuur, I can be contacted at the Chateau Malchance. Good day."

With that, the priest strode briskly to the door, his chains clinking. As he stepped through the threshold, he paused and glanced over his shoulder. "I might suggest you keep your bodyguards -- or whatever they are -- in check. It is bad for business."

[DocBeard]

Tomas takes a second to rub the bridge of his nose, as Cyrus stalks off. Once the door is shut, Tomas makes eye contact, holding his hands up and stepping backwards once or twice. "I'm going. I'm going! Look, I-just-"

"I'm sorry. I honestly had no idea he would be...that bad." Tomas shrugs, "Or that you would have, well..." Tomas touches his chest, as if that would explain it. "I would have found another way if I did."

"I'm going to come back in a while, without the jerk, okay? This is important, or I wouldn't be bothering you." And that's about all Tomas can get out before he bumps into the door. Letting out a sigh, Tomas slips around, quietly opening and shutting the door, obviously more than a little ashamed of himself.

"You could have warned a fellow." Tomas murmurs towards where he presumes Boucher is still standing, smugly smoking a cigarette.

[NeoTiamat]

The Apothecary of Sevgi Canderli, Quartier-Marchand, Port-a-Lucine; March 10th, 770, 4:23 PM
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With that, the priest strode briskly to the door, his chains clinking. As he stepped through the threshold, he paused and glanced over his shoulder. "I might suggest you keep your bodyguards -- or whatever they are -- in check. It is bad for business."

"They... are friends." Sevgi Canderli said softly, looking at Cyrus with a glimmer of pity in her eye. "But you wouldn't understand that, would you?"

As Cyrus left, the lead Rashemi, Asil, glanced at the apothecary with a questioning glance in his eyes. Canderli gazed after the Lawgiver priest, then shook her head gently. It isn't worth it. Asil and other Rashemi subsided.

"I'm going. I'm going! Look, I-just-"

"I'm sorry. I honestly had no idea he would be...that bad." Tomas shrugs, "Or that you would have, well..." Tomas touches his chest, as if that would explain it. "I would have found another way if I did."

"I'm going to come back in a while, without the jerk, okay? This is important, or I wouldn't be bothering you."

"Perhaps it is not your fault at that. But he is the reason so many of us have left Hazlan." Canderli said wearily, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Just go. We may talk later, but for now, just go."

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Your exit from the shop sent a flock of sparrows flying. The door shut behind you. The Rashemi, it seemed, were not going to follow you out.

"You could have warned a fellow." Tomas murmurs towards where he presumes Boucher is still standing, smugly smoking a cigarette.

"Was telling you outright she had to flee the Lawgiver church unclear? No wonder Lamordians are so precise in their explanations, if you can't understand anything else." Thierri, contrary to expectations, did not look smug. He had a rather dull-lidded look on his face, which was currently directed straight at Cyrus, and about five cigarettes littered the ground beneath his feet.

"Well, dommer," he said, with an inflection that sounded like he was trying to say something else, "you must certainly have another avenue of investigation, since you've done your best to destroy this one so thoroughly. Why don't you and Mlle. Zweibach go and see to it, while M. Eisenwald and I go back and clean up the wreckage you've left?"

Katja looked at Thierri, but said nothing, and betrayed nothing.

Pelay Residence, Quartier-Savant, Port-a-Lucine; March 10th, 770, 4:23 PM
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"No excuse is necessary, we did after all arrive unannounced." Mr. Agale lets his gaze trail to the kitchen door with a sneer implying that menials were to blame. "To put it simply, my associates and I are very interested in your ideas and works, especially as they might be adapted to other mediums."

"Indeed," Lia says noncommittally as she sits down next to Agale. "Your name is on the lips of people in all quarters of the city these days. We felt we should make your acquaintance."

"Fellow lovers of country too?" Jacques Pelay said with a small smile. He looked at Lia curiously, but returned his attentions to Mr. Agale. "I don't hear that nearly enough."

"Always, it's 'back to the good old days' or 'back to when D'Honaire was alive' or 'back to my grandfather's day'." Pelay shook his head in frustration, beautiful brown curls falling about his face as he did so. "It never seems to occur to people that if life was as good as they claimed in years past, then the chain of events wouldn't have led us here, to near-constant civil unrest."

"But I digress. Sorry, I'm a very successful poet but a very frustrated politician." Pelay flashed another quick smile. "So which work are you interested in conversion, and to what medium? Halcyon is my magnum opus, but I've been working on a piece I call Starlight which you might be interested in if you're looking for something new."

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Kerrian didn't verbally respond to Mr.Agale's little bit of instruction. Instead, just a simple nod, and a quick egress to begin looking for the young woman who the master of the house treated rather rudely. And probably a good thing too, otherwise Kerrian would've likely said some things which were...rather unkind. And that's never a good way to conduct diplomacy.

Kerrian found the maid, understandably enough, making tea in the kitchen. The house was nearly deserted as he passed through, no other servants to be seen, no other people at all to be seen.

Madeleine, with her sharp features and clever eyes, was mixing up a brew and whistling tunelessly to herself. She was probably a good decade older than Kerrian, but she would've been pretty if not for the sunken quality of her face and the limpness of her hair.

"High-and-mighties don't want you underfoot either?" Madeleine said with a brief, wintry smile. She gestured towards the oven. "If you can check the cakes, it'd be appreciated. This place hasn't been the same since Cook left."

[DocBeard]

"We should give her some time." Tomas offers, "Get lunch or something, I don't know."

[The Whistler]

"Always, it's 'back to the good old days' or 'back to when D'Honaire was alive' or 'back to my grandfather's day'." Pelay shook his head in frustration, beautiful brown curls falling about his face as he did so. "It never seems to occur to people that if life was as good as they claimed in years past, then the chain of events wouldn't have led us here, to near-constant civil unrest."

"But I digress. Sorry, I'm a very successful poet but a very frustrated politician." Pelay flashed another quick smile. "So which work are you interested in conversion, and to what medium? Halcyon is my magnum opus, but I've been working on a piece I call Starlight which you might be interested in if you're looking for something new."

For half a moment, Celeste looked as if she was going to comment directly on to Pelay’s historical philosophy. Seeing as, given what you had observed of her thus far, she seemed A) rather fond of the past, and B) congenitally incapable of insincerity, this probably would have been a horrible decision.

Thankfully, Pelay mentioned poetry.

“Halcyon! Oh, M. Pelay, the mere mention of the work is bolstering tinder to the fires of reminiscence! Why, I spent this January last positively ensconced in that magnificent chronicle. Let me see…”

She cleared her throat, delicately:

”I, when I rise, displace
All things: dispel the waves, buckle the oaks,
Uproot all hinges, shatter every chain,
And, if I choose, I, Mac Lir, with one breath—
More lightly than a man tosses a pebble
Into the stream, or breaks a spider’s web—
Could blow the earth away across the stars.”

Celeste smiled, savoring the verse. “Such bold imagery! I have always felt the deepest of appreciation for our shared mythological heritage—though it hail from before history itself, it may still teach us so much!”

She turned to look at Pelay again. “But I digress. M. Pelay, we cannot possibly be unaware of your prior masterpieces, but today, we come to you as creatures of the moment! Such turbulent times as the present must only inspire the greatest of artistic triumphs, you agree? Nothing could please us more but to hear you hold forth on the subject—and if Starlight serves, then we should gladly hear of Starlight!

Successful History check to be familiar with the guy's work. Quote's from Victor Hugo's "La Legende des Siecles", with the name of the wind god swapped out.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"The one thing one might say in favour of the 'age' of Dominic D'Honaire," Lia says in a quiet tone of voice, "is that the unrest which wracks this country was pushed deeper into the shadows than it is today. What the privileged call stability is all too easily revealed to be stagnant water, poisoning those who must dwell within it, rather than sit in golden palaces upon its shore."

For a moment, her hands tighten on the staff she has carried even into this elegant room, but then they relax, the gleaming wood spinning lazily between her fingers.

"That is an interesting poem," she compliments Celeste. "I do not think I have heard it before."

[yalenusveler]

"High-and-mighties don't want you underfoot either?" Madeleine said with a brief, wintry smile. She gestured towards the oven. "If you can check the cakes, it'd be appreciated. This place hasn't been the same since Cook left."

Kerrian nodded, setting about doing his level best to help Madeleine with her duties. He was a laborer, not a domestic, but there were certian tasks requiring no real skill that he could likely assist in. Such as checking on cakes. "He seems like a rather...difficult...man to work with. You've no other help?" Kerrian asked, moving to assist her with fetching a tray. "Or has his charming personality led to resignations?"