The Shattered City: Chapter Two

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"There are ways," Lia replies with a shrug. "They usually require a large group of cholars and priests, though. I could give it a go if you like, but it'll be hard to tell with the thing in pieces."

[Nathan of the FoS]

"Artifacts are hard to fake," Darius points out, slumping into the nearest chair and stretching. "I think we can take it as a given that this is the Icon. Whether or not it has been corrupted or tampered with somehow..."

He shrugs. "That's harder."

Making a seated bow to Devereux, he says, "Please forgive us if its presence on your property leads to any inconvenience. We didn't know what else to do with it. Can you recommend a place in the house where it will be out of the way...and as difficult as possible to detect by scrying?"

[Kaitou Kage]

"It does beg the question of just how connected she is to the University leaders," Cyrus muttered, "How many of them know what she was doing and how many more sanctioned it."

He leveled a brief look at Lia and any other University staff in the room. "If you continue supporting our efforts and the University otherwise continues this nonsense you may find your positions in jeopardy."

[lostboy]

"We could try hitting it with a hammer" Nicholas offers factiously whilst twisting the cork from a bottle he had just grabbed form his room. "If it is real then the consequences should be obvious, no?" He says with a tired smile as he splashes green liquid into several glasses.

"Really we have little way at our disposal to verify it right now, so let us follow the Dommer and Mlle Mourneswaithe's suggestion and keep it somewhere secure for tonight. Tomorrow without exhausted minds we can explore its esoteric mysteries, tonight let us rejoice in the fact that no-one has moved beyond this mortal coil and that whatever that is, we have it, rather then Mlle de Tarascon, as I believe she may be."

Nicholas was in an unfeasibly good mood as he raised a glass of absinthe, "now considering the ill humour settling about this house anyone care to join me in some casual adoration of the green fairy?"

[NeoTiamat]

Chateau Malchance, Quartier Marchand, Port-a-Lucine; Small Hours of the Morning of March 25th, 770
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Making a few mental notes, Eisenwald gruffly gestures towards the toilet. "There's some basic medical equipment in there."

Thierri glanced up from the pool table, frowning at Tomas and the obvious bandages on his face. Roughly putting out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray, which was currently packed full of burned-out stubs, the magician set the pool cue on the table and headed upstairs to fetch the bottle of antiseptic he had passed around the last time you had stumbled in late and bleeding.

"...I'm sorry." Tomas finally says, "I should have seen the whatever it was coming. How are you two holding up?" Tomas dares a look at the arm that, a few hours ago, he was fairly sure Richard was going to lose.

"Sorry for what? I don't see how you could have. Unless you're psychic. Are you psychic?" Cerise asked, leaning forward with a snaggled grin and eager expression that told Eisenwald it was not a good idea to answer "yes". She lowered her voice a bit to reply, "Ste. Madeleine's patched him right up. He doesn't seem to be any worse for wear... physically, at least, he doesn't."

"I'm, I'm fine," Richard said without looking up, in a very reflexive manner.

"The Icon of La Ste. Mêre des Larmes," Lia announces bluntly, "as far as we can tell right now. It would be well to put it in a very safe room until we decide what to do with it next. You have found a warding spell that can make the mirrors safe then, Charles?"

"That's, that's not our decision to make," Richard said, setting the teacup down on his saucer with a heavy clink.

"Er." Devereux did not look entirely keen on anything to do with the Icon, and thus elected to try and ignore it. "As... safe as they can... be, Lia. I don't know anything that... can make them truly safe. I... don't think... it's possible. But... the Chateau is mine, so my... friends will... watch it. That's... all I can do."

"Can you recommend a place in the house where it will be out of the way...and as difficult as possible to detect by scrying?"

"We use... room eleven for storage," Devereux replied. He tilted his head to the side as he looked at the crate again, and blinked slowly, once. "It can stay there... for the night. But Lia has been... exaggerating my abilities if you want me to... prevent anyone from scrying on it. Even most of the senior magicians at the University couldn't... manage that kind of ritual."

Richard stood up and walked over to the crate, reverently. He gently reached out and set his fingers on the wooden lid, barely touching it, as if afraid it would electrocute him. He held no particular expression on his face, simply an aura of deep sadness, as if it was an old friend that was lying in pieces in front of him. Then his face hardened, the mist in his eyes giving way to reveal steel. "I'll tell Bastion Pineau that you, you recovered the Icon," he told you, immediately turning to do just that.

"Richard!" his sister protested, stirring from where she had been resolutely not looking at him. "You are not going anywhere at this time of night."

"Then, then I'll ask Favonius to go," Richard replied, not budging an inch.

[Nerit]

Nerit laid her hands on each of Alice's upper arms gently from behind. Her left hand was smeared with dried blood, which she failed to notice. "I am sorry we did not take better care of him, Alice," she said weakly.

Dropping her hands, Nerit bowed her head and wandered to retrieve a drink of the sour liquid Nicholas was passing out. There was no word of protest, no claims of blasphemy, toward the poet's irreverent suggestion. Perhaps exhaustion had diffused her fervor?

[The Whistler]

To your (possible) surprise, Celeste had actually behaved somewhat appropriately during the follow-up to the battle. Though she substituted disappointment for outrage at the disappearance of Poincare, she *did* obviously recognize that the Doctor was out of line, and feel it unfortunate that the cultists had escaped—though this was mostly communicated in her intention to “compose a sternly worded missive to the University as regards their hiring practices”. You’d give Celeste one thing: she was apparently as serious about this whole Investigation concept as she was capable of being.

This was not to say that she was not maddeningly optimistic about the whole business on the walk back home. To hear her tell it, Poincare’s whole band were sure to turn themselves in out of remorse, by not later than ten the next morning.

"Then, then I'll ask Favonius to go," Richard replied, not budging an inch.

“Truly the thoughtful course of action, M. Blackwood! For the present, all that is required of you is that you be rested, and pray for more fortunate tidings on the morrow. Even the valiant knight, when stricken upon the battlefield in the course of his noble duty, must perforce spend his night in recuperation—that he ride again all the more bravely come dawn!”

That was something, now you thought about it. Celeste had been cooing solicitously over the party’s injuries since you had left the Tarascons residence, but now you saw her in the light…

Celeste looked…fine. Sure, her dress was artfully burnt or frozen in select regions, and she had a minor scratch or two, but… The overall effect was as if a makeup artist had wanted to make it look as if Mlle. Viardot had been in a fight, but had gotten bored after around five minutes and decided to phone it in. Her hair was still pinned up, for heaven’s sakes.

Must have been natural poise.

[DocBeard]

"Boucher, really, its..." Tomas holds a hand out, but cannot bring himself to lie, or say 'I don't want anyone looking that closely at my insides, see.'. Instead he rubs his forehead, frowning a bit at Richard's insistence...he hasn't ruled the Bastion out as a possible patron of Poincare, but ultimately decides that the cult's going to find out sooner rather than later.

"No more than your average Lamordian, Cerise." Tomas concedes re: his horrible mental powers. "The only thing 'unusual' about me is being a few sword tricks I picked up abroad." Tomas tries very hard not to frown at Nerit's sudden...after all, everyone responds to battle differently. She couldn't possibly think that anyone at the Chateau would...well, alright, Cyrus might if he could benefit from it, but plenty of Ezrans had weirder skills than Nerit's. (Celeste's Celesteness is, on Tomas's social map of the residents of the Chateau, a mist filled nothing with 'HERE YE BE DRAGONS' scrawled on it. He's not nearly drunk enough to theorize on why the girl isn't a grease stain right now.)

"...Professor." Tomas looks reluctantly towards Devereux, feeling a bit like he's failed in his duty towards his old mentor. "Did we miss anything significant while we were...out?"

[Rock of the Fraternity]

Nicholas was in an unfeasibly good mood as he raised a glass of absinthe, "now considering the ill humour settling about this house anyone care to join me in some casual adoration of the green fairy?"

Lia's face twists in an expression of distaste, but that lasts only for a moment. In addition, her voice is smooth and pleasant enough: "While I appreciate your support of my and Isfahani's suggestion, master poet, I know rather too much of fairies to adore them, regardless their colour. Besides, I favour Barovian reds. I have a few bottles upstairs, if anyone else is interested in sharing a cup before we retire."

"...I'm sorry." Tomas finally says, "I should have seen the whatever it was coming. How are you two holding up?" Tomas dares a look at the arm that, a few hours ago, he was fairly sure Richard was going to lose.

"You are too noble, my friend," Lia says to Tomas' self-recrimination. "Too noble by far. I like that about you, of course, but what happened was not your fault."

"That's, that's not our decision to make," Richard said, setting the teacup down on his saucer with a heavy clink.

"I certainly did not mean to imply that I wish to keep this ... item ... around any longer than is absolutely necessary," Lia says in a wary tone of voice.

"The Icon has a history of striking down the irreverent even when there is no chance that it has been corrupted by eldritch forces. And though I do not hold great enmity for Ezra and her followers, I am certainly not one of them. But we must be careful. Poincare got right inside the church's guard, and no one suspected her. We can not be sure that she has no supporters left there.

I can honestly think of no place where I'd rather see the Icon than safely in la Ste. Mêre des Larmes, where I do not live and sleep, but I do wish it to be truly safe there, if you follow my meaning, Mr. Blackwood."

"Er." Devereux did not look entirely keen on anything to do with the Icon, and thus elected to try and ignore it. "As... safe as they can... be, Lia. I don't know anything that... can make them truly safe. I... don't think... it's possible. But... the Chateau is mine, so my... friends will... watch it. That's... all I can do."

"Please tender my appreciation to your friends, Charles," Lia says with a bow in Devereux' direction. "And also please accept your own fair share thereof. Nonetheless ... Perhaps it would be wise for us to cover all mirrors we are not using for serious purposes? Just a thought.

Now. I am going to go upstairs and pour myself a cup of my crude, thick, wonderful Barovian red wine. Unless any of you should care to join me, I bid you all a good night's rest."

[Kaitou Kage]

"I have heard that the Bastion is an avid chemist," Cyrus said pleasantly, "And that people who cross him have a habit of disappearing. It is quite interesting what people on the streets will say if a dommer has only the will to listen and a heart kind enough to stop and offer some coin."

He tapped his fingers on his chair. "But I suppose if anyone would be glad to see the Icon returned, it would be him."

[Cronax]

It was only now, as he slid through the doorway that you realized the austere Tollere had not been following along as you made your way back to the Chateau.

Unless you're psychic. Are you psychic?

Mr. Agale took this opportunity to cough, then clear his throat. Clearly, he was still suffering the after effects of being exposed to the cold.

"That's, that's not our decision to make,"

"Whose then is it? Yours Mr. Blackwood?" Agale interjected. "Ultimately, the Icon must be returned to a proper authority within the Ezran church. But until we can determine precisely what Dr. Poincare has done to it, that would be exceptionally unwise to do anything with the relic." He delicately picks up one of Mr. de Castigne's proferred beverages and gives the emerald liquid a sideways glance before taking a sip. Once his facial features return to a normal state, he gives an exceptionally polite if insincere nod of thanks to Nicolas.

[Nathan of the FoS]

Darius shrugs. "It is the property of the Church of Ezra, as you say, monsieur Agale, and we must return it to its owner. As for the possibility of contamination or tampering, one would hope that the Church would be equal to dealing with such things. It would be well for us to learn what we can from it, but I think we do not need to make ourselves responsible for...cleansing...it, if that becomes necessary."

Climbing out of the chair, he says to Lia, "You can get this to the storage, yes? Good night." Not really waiting for an answer, he goes up the stairs slowly, and you hear the Isfahanis' bedroom door open and close.

[yalenusveler]

"We still don't know why those three priests disappeared." Kerrian offered. "Did they know about the plot and the Doctor had them taken because of it..or did the doctor have more help on the inside?" Kerrian distinctly did not like that line of thought, but it was as likely at the moment as any other.

"Especially if what Cyrus says is true."

[NeoTiamat]

Chateau Malchance, Quartier Marchand, Port-a-Lucine; Small Hours of the Morning of March 25th, 770
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Nerit laid her hands on each of Alice's upper arms gently from behind. Her left hand was smeared with dried blood, which she failed to notice. "I am sorry we did not take better care of him, Alice," she said weakly.

The elder Blackwood snorted.

"If my fool brother gets it into his head to run out of the house at night and get himself hurt, that's no fault of yours," Alice said, patting Nerit's hand gently.

You had better be sorry, the expression in her eyes said.

"...Professor." Tomas looks reluctantly towards Devereux, feeling a bit like he's failed in his duty towards his old mentor. "Did we miss anything significant while we were...out?"

"It's been... quiet here, Tomas," Devereux replied, picking up another picture frame and beginning his odd little examination. "We've... been waiting for you to come home."

"Whose then is it? Yours Mr. Blackwood?" Agale interjected. "Ultimately, the Icon must be returned to a proper authority within the Ezran church. But until we can determine precisely what Dr. Poincare has done to it, that would be exceptionally unwise to do anything with the relic."

"Your, yours, Mr. Agale?" the young man countered. "This, this is not your property, nor, nor do you have the knowledge, or the power, or the authority to say what, what is to be done with it, any more than, than it's rightful owners." Richard trailed off, looking at who he was talking to, then set his lips into a deep frown and switched gears. "If, if the Icon is discovered missing and we have not reported it to be here, it would be very, very unfortunate if we were discovered to, to be hiding it, Mr. Agale. We, we will simply have to trust the scholars of the, the church, if something has happened to it. Go find Favonius."

The young man turned back toward the crate, staring at the relic he had always, before now, looked up upon instead of down. "I will, I will right this wrong," he whispered passionately, bringing the alabaster shield on his neck to his lips. "I, I swear it on your Name. I swear this..."

• • • • Chapter Two: The End