Café de Nuit

"It was like what happened earlier...just...fatal this time. " Kerrian offered, sounding very much like he wouldn't have to see a third occurring of their mystery throat slitter.

"M. de Castaigne," one of the gendarme replied, completely flat. "Is that blood on your coat? I do hope you haven't gotten into any trouble."

A sense of dread seeps into Nicholas bones, dread enforced by the rumours he had heard, rumours that a visit form the Marquis was a swift precursor for an all expenses paid trip to Montmort, and more worryingly that those the Marquis released didnt survive very long. Nicholas was powerfully moved to avoid either of those two destinies. He does look swiftly over at the others as they speak however, at Cyrus with irritation, and Celeste with thoughtful interest.

"Heavens no" Nicholas mutters glibly, recovering his outward composure somewhat and pulling the yellow parole slip from a pocket inside his coat for the Gendarme. "Simply in the wrong place at the wrong time and just undertaking my civic duty in calming a potential riot. But Tomas is right, the man was killed by magical transmutation of his ale into broken glass. The poor fellow died form his throat being shredded from the inside."

Cyrus's eyes narrowed sharply behind his glasses. Of course, you couldn't see his eyes, but the muscles of his face shifted in a very eye-narrowing sort of way.

"Interesting," the priest muttered. He made a mental note to discuss a related matter later.

Chateau Malchance, Quartier Marchand, Port-a-Lucine; Late Evening of March 24th, 770
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Celeste wrote:“Oh, you must excuse our collective state of dishabille, dear M. Gauvain. Had we been apprised of your coming, we would surely have prepared a suitable refreshment for you and your company…the Chateau’s stores are most capacious!”

The white-eyed man was rather slow to respond, but eventually turned his eyes toward Celeste - specifically, after the rest of you had given him the answers he had asked for. It could have been interpreted as an acknowledgment, provided one had both the inclination and imagination to read such a thing into it. M. Gauvain had an unsettling habit of giving whomever he was looking at his complete attention, which made him and Celeste evenly matched - but where Celeste seemed to radiate good will and helpful fashion advice, M. Gauvain left a deep chill.

"Don't concern yourself," he said.

Darius wrote:"By all means, let us ensure that the authorities acquire a deeper understanding of what was done. Monsieur Eisenwald's account is very...striking, but perhaps a more complete description of events would throw additional light on what happened?"

Kerrian wrote:"It was like what happened earlier...just...fatal this time. " Kerrian offered, sounding very much like he wouldn't have to see a third occurring of their mystery throat slitter.

"Ah yes. The unfortunate Captain Cedolin reported as much as he could on the incident, although his knowledge of the cause was unsatisfactory," the gendarme to the right of Devereux said, not sounding particularly concerned, or - well, anything. "There was an opinion that a resident of the chateau was responsible, which he attested was shared by some of yourselves. Captain Cedolin himself was very opposed to the notion."

"It is a shame you did not turn the body over to the gendarme, or we would have more concrete evidence to accompany your story," the other gendarme said. It was hard to tell if he was skeptical or legitimately disappointed, because he didn't sound like either. "Unfortunately, it seems that the sailor is now quite impossible to retrieve. In his absence, any further details you can offer would be very appreciated."

These are very unusual gendarmes. Darius has never heard of Dementlieu employing automata in any official capacity, but this conversation is starting to make him wonder.

"If I might clarify that point, monsieurs, monseigneur...it was the opinion of at least my brother and I that it was more likely that a wizard of mediocre ability was present in the Chateau to make the attack on Captain Cedolin than that a wizard of extraordinary ability had made the attack while scrying on the house. If the circumstances of the murder of this sailor support the second conclusion, it would of course be reasonable to assume that is the correct explanation for the first attack as well."

"One should hope this conclusion gains universal acceptance," Lia says in a dry tone of voice. "Has the gendarmerie discovered anything new about this necromantic process to turn liquid into ground glass?" she asks. "I had never heard of it before ... And there has been rather too much unknown and unquantifiable magic floating recently for my tastes."

You seriously needed a whole paragraph to say that?, Tomas thinks, his own reckless mood infecting his thoughts more completely than he'd normally allow.

"I'm not holding anything back." Tomas notes, as this is the most neutral of many things he wants to say. He looks at the left Redcap; "If you know about what happened to the Captain, there's nothing to add to it other than 'It was bigger because he had a whole pint of ale.'. Only I'd really like to wash the vital fluids out of my hair."

Celeste registered the various incident reports with a growing mixture of bafflement and alarm. Clearly, she had presumed that everyone was still talking about Marie Chastel, that being the last murder she had actually been present for--and, as a corollary, it seemed she had utterly failed to notice all of the various bodily fluids gracing the party that had been to the dock.

"A sailor...exploded, you say? Oh...good heavens!

M. Gauvain wrote:"Don't concern yourself," he said.

"Indeed...given this new intelligence, how could I? M. Gauvain, it is truly with fresh eyes that I applaud the sobriety of your manner, and that of your cohort. Surely, such a vile deed demands a suitably disciplined response! I approve, dear M. Gauvain--I approve wholeheartedly!

With that, she fluttered off in the direction of Tomas's group, and began (cooperation permitting) a game attempt to help clean off the more socially acceptable portions of their bloodstained clothing. Thankfully, she seemed to have an infinite supply of backup handkerchiefs.

Agale accepted the socialite's ministrations with a nod, never once lifting his gaze from the black clad gendarme. "As you should be aware by now Commissioner Gauvain, Captain Cedolin took it upon what authority he possesses to enlist our aid in investigation into Madam Chastel's untimely demise. Being an upstanding resident of this fair nation, it was my obligation to comply. If it should be the case that the Captain exceeded his authority in doing so, understand that we will cooperate fully with any internal affair inquiries deemed appropriate."

As he spoke, the Tollere casually paced around the room, hands clasped behind his back. It was the relaxed pace, one that seemed to both calmed the Borcan into a familiar mode of address as though he were pleading a case, while at the same time encircling the commissioner so he was forced to twist his head back and forth in rapid succession to maintain eye contact with everyone.

With Agale taking the limelight, Nicholas relaxes a little. The Marquis still hadn't explained why he was here, but no-one had slapped the cuffs on Nicholas yet so the poet figured it wasnt worth having a coronary over just yet.

As Celeste moves to mop some of the blood from his coat, Nicholas catches her wrist in a mildly firm yet polite manner. "Really mademouselle I cannot ask you to sully your fair hands with such a task, if you but allow me I shall clean it myself." He releases her wrist and holds his hand out for the handkerchief. As it is passed over he steps forward and whispers softly for only Celeste to hear "Seek me out later, there is something of import I must tell you."

Taking the handkerchief he steps back, lights a cigareete and returns his attention to the lawyer and the gendarmes.

Chateau Malchance, Quartier Marchand, Port-a-Lucine; Late Evening of March 24th, 770
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Lia wrote:"One should hope this conclusion gains universal acceptance," Lia says in a dry tone of voice. "Has the gendarmerie discovered anything new about this necromantic process to turn liquid into ground glass?" she asks. "I had never heard of it before ... And there has been rather too much unknown and unquantifiable magic floating recently for my tastes."

"We have not," the gendarme to the left of Devereux said. "That is why we asked your companions. We have not had the opportunity to observe it personally. Captain Cedolin was, unfortunately, not in the condition to make observations when it occurred to him." The guard turned and looked at Nicolas.

"We do not believe it is actually magic," the gendarme to the right of Devereux said. "It is not a phenomenon we completely understand."

Both guards turned to look at Devereux, who stared back at them balefully.

Agale wrote:"As you should be aware by now Commissioner Gauvain, Captain Cedolin took it upon what authority he possesses to enlist our aid in investigation into Madam Chastel's untimely demise. Being an upstanding resident of this fair nation, it was my obligation to comply. If it should be the case that the Captain exceeded his authority in doing so, understand that we will cooperate fully with any internal affair inquiries deemed appropriate."

Mr. Agale found himself back on the receiving end of Gauvain's full attention. The white-eyed man did not turn his head to follow the tollere, simply watching the other man out of the corner of his eyes. It was nearly impossible to tell what direction those pale orbs were looking in - even so, Nicolas couldn't shake the feeling that le Marquis suddenly stared directly at him, when he whispered to Celeste.

"Captain Cedolin is missing," le Marquis de Montmort said. "You now report to me."

"When did he go missing?" Lia immediately asks. "Where was he last seen, and in what kind of company? And what in the name of Ezra's chilly petticoats do you mean, the liquid-to-ground-glass trick is not magic? What are you basing this theory on? I detected a necromantic aura myself!"

Darius is seized by a coughing fit somewhere near the middle of Lia's series of questions. Ezra's chilly petticoats indeed.

In justice to the witchwoman, she's got a knack for good questions as well as amusing oaths. Since she's covered the Captain Cedolin angle pretty thoroughly, Darius asks the other question this raises instead.

"Does this mean we are retained in an official capacity, monseigneur?" he asks politely.

Nerit immediately disliked the Marquis and his judging, pale eyes. It was an irrelevant emotion, though, when he had the power to do whatever he pleased with the entire crew.

She glanced toward Lia, whom she may have laughed at had the situation not been as it was. And the aura mentioned...how true.

Then she noticed Darius. "Are you all right, dommer?" she muttered to him. Coughing should, by all rights, make everyone paranoid now. He hadn't been drinking anything, of course.

"My brother is fine," Cyrus said icily. The gaze he levelled on Nerit suggested that she should not pursue the matter further. "I will tend to him when we adjourn."

The dommer glanced significantly at his brother for the breach of etiquette.

"There is also the matter of the rewritten history in the museum," he continued in more civil tones. "A suggestion of, what was it? Ezrans in Kartakass? The exhibit was amiss."