The Apothecary of Sevgi Canderli, Quartier-Marchand, Port-a-Lucine; March 10th, 770, 5:38 PM
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Nerit stepped forward, next to Thierri. "My apologies, Mme. This is a delicate situation and we have tried to be inconspicuous. Although, as you can see, am I am anything but!" She smiled demurely at the polite joke. "I believe, now is the time to be blatant, and the truth is as M. Boucher explains. Thus, we --on behalf of the Church of Ezra, Mme.-- do ask for your assistance regarding the galzuur."
Cyrus wrote:I came here initially for information on the gal-zuur and that is my sole purpose here. The investigation is of utmost importance to the stability. I was concerned your shop had been broken into. Gal-zuur is extremely precious -- and expensive. If some insurgent needed it, I imagine he would steal it."
"I
see." Sevgi Canderli said frostily. Her next words led you to realize that the frost was directed at the Ezran church, not at you. "I had thought better of the Church's choice of agents... well, it does not matter, the story of the
Gal-zuur is simply enough told."
"You are correct, sir, that the
Gal-zuur was stolen." Canderli nodded her head towards Cyrus. "Though it was not a robbery. Yesterday morning, a young woman dressed in an absolutely frightful bile-yellow opera-cloak came to purchase a quantity of
Gal-zuur. I keep a small quantity in stock, and she paid cash for it. Good, solid golden coins, half Darkonian skulls, half Dementlieuse solars."
"
Unfortunately not solid enough." Canderli frowned in annoyance. "When I came in this morning, the coins had disappeared, vanished into thin air. I now suspect they were illusory, though how in Lawgiver's hidden name someone managed to slip false coins past me, I do not know. They were good, very good."
"I called the gendarmerie, as soon as I found I'd been defrauded, but they... were not particularly interested in helping me." Canderli nodded towards Cyrus. "When you arrived, I... had just had a very stressful morning."
It wasn't much of an apology, but it was as much of one as you were liable to get.
Outside the Pelay Residence, Quartier-Savant, Port-a-Lucine; March 10th, 770, 4:43 PM
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"Stealing Dementlieu's founding treasures in such a manner can only cause friction between the University and the Government. For someone as devoted to national strength as M. Pelay appears to be, he'd have to be incredibly stupid to think this would aid his cause in any manner," Professor Lessard concurred with the general consensus. "But then, As Professor Theroux often says, we should never take stupidity off the table as a potential motive."
"Even so, we should probably get moving," Cerise said. "We can get dinner before we go to talk to Delarue. This is going to be great! My aunt has all
sorts of people come in and out of her salon. Just a month ago she was telling me that
Quentin Poincare was in there sharing his theories on the role of magic in building Pre-Hazlani culture!" The young woman let loose a snaggle-toothed grin. "I could have just died when she told me! And she even got his autograph! And she keeps the best petite fours around for the evening. I can't wait!"
The Rondelet Residence, Quartier-Savant, Port-a-Lucine; March 10th, 770, 6:09 PM
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The next stop on your itinerary, the salon of Elisabeth Bastien-Rondelet, was located only not very far from the Pelay Residence, also in the Quartier Savant. And yet, it was as different from the first place as night and day. The Pelay Estate had been rich and elegant and nearly abandoned, possessed of a certain sterile beauty. The Rondelet Residence, on the other hand, was a massive pile of a house that looked like more like a prosperous merchant's home than that of a petty nobleman, and as you approached you could hear that it fair
buzzed with sound.
Cerise strode up to the front door and pulled back a somewhat elderly door-knocker that was in the shape of a brass lion. Cerise lifted it up and dropped it down again, causing a hollow boom to reverberate through the house. Somewhere between the third and fourth knocks, the door opened.
The gentleman who opened the door was in his mid-to-late thirties, a little shorter than the norm and with a comfortable pot-belly that bespoke of an assured upper-middle class existence. He had the same rounded, apple-cheeked face as Cerise, his hair being only a slightly lighter shade of brown. He grinned visibly at the sight of Cerise, who bounced into the entrance hall and gave him a quick hug.
"Basile! You're home! When did you get back? How did Therese like Paridon? Did you sign the contract? Did you get replaced by a doppelganger?" Cerise said quickly and cheerfully, prodding her (brother? cousin?) in the stomach with a finger. "I think you did get replaced. Basile was more padded when he left last month."
"Hello Cerise, I got home last night, Therese loved Paridon, I signed the contract for the next twelve months, and I am not a doppelganger." Basile Rondelet said with a certain amount of long-suffering fondness, rolling his eyes up at the last. "Sweating through two cross-Mist voyages will make you lose a few pounds too. Would you introduce me to your friends?"
"Oh, sure. This is Mr. Agale, Kerrian, Ms. Mournswaithe, Prof. Lessard, and Celeste. They're my new housemates." Cerise said.
"My condolences." Basile said dryly. Cerise poked him in the stomach again. "Basile Rondelet, Rondelet Shipping. I'm Cerise's eldest brother."
"We're here for Aunt Elisabeth's salon." Cerise said. "Do you know if Hugo Delarue is here?"
"Short, nervous man, brown hair, very cheap watch?" Basile asked. Cerise nodded. "He arrived a little while ago. Why do you need him?"
"Very hush hush, but we think he's a werewolf." Cerise said, a small smile on her lips. "Please don't tell anyone?"
"I asked for that, didn't I?" Basile sighed, though he was smiling. "Go on up, they're all in the West Drawing Room."
"Thanks Bas, say hello to Therese for me." Cerise said, and bounced off down the hallway.
================================================
"-
trying to explain to Madame Loiseau, it was King Azalin's very strength that crippled his country when he left to bring the destroyers of Il Aluk to justice! The moment his watchful eyes was off his people, they collapsed into a bickering mass of anarchy. And why is this, do you ask? Because they had never been given
responsibility until then! Without any experienced leaders to take control in a time of crisis, everyone with even the slightest hint of authority became a power hungry tyrant, and that is the fate we will suffer as well, unless we allow the lower class to take control of their own destinies-"
"Oh! Nonsense!" The addressed lady, a plump woman in her mid-forties, waved her hand dismissively, as if she had been offered a biscuit she didn't want. "Laundresses do not turn into tyrants just because no one is looking at them! If you ask me, all of those robber barons in Darkon were just bad eggs to begin with. Just like all those revolutionaries here! Oh, it's simply horrid! When I think of what they did to poor M. Bonnin-"
"They were protesting the bread shortage, Madame, and the gendarme's treatment of peaceful protesters," protested the man she had interrupted.
"Oh! That was simply horrid! For those gendarme to just fire on those poor innocent women! I cannot see how anyone could stand by and abide by such behavior!" the plump woman said, pressing a hand to her chest. The man audibly ground his teeth.
Your entrance into the hall created a much-welcomed respite from the current conversation. The hostess stood up from her seat, sweeping forward to kiss Cerise on the cheek. "Cerise, my dear! Promises of M. Poincare proved too tempting to resist? I'm afraid he isn't here tonight, but I'm glad to see you nonetheless. And who have you brought me here?"
Cerise grinned as she introduced you again, one by one. Madame Elisabeth raised her eyebrows at some of you, but greeted you graciously. "A pleasure. Might I introduce you to my friends, Monsieur Louis-Gabriel Evrard-"
"Good evening," the man who had been arguing before said with a half-bow.
"-Madame Coralie Loiseau-"
"I am simply delighted to meet you!" the middle-aged woman said excitedly, rising to her feet with a speed that belied her age.
"-Madame Danielle Bonnevie-"
A plain-faced woman in a purple dress nodded simply at you. Lacking the obvious charisma or the other patrons, the young noble seemed content to simply sit back and calmly watch the proceedings.
"-and Monsieur Hugo Delarue."
"Sorry, what?" The final member of the salon glaced up distractedly, having only now registered your arrival. Hugo Delarue, a short man in his early thirties, did not look like a dashing master thief. The man was short, not terribly attractive, and dressed in the ridiculously over-the-top fripperies of the Dementlieuse elite. He looked at the strange group that had joined the salon, reaching for a sugar coated confectionary before it occured to him something more was required. "Charmed."
