Café de Nuit

Cyrus swore under his breath and glanced around. Upon seeing the opening provided by Vedarrak and Tomas, the priest gestured toward it.

"Hurry! Let's go through there!" And he darted off.

Sorry it's short, got a headache today.

Mlle. Evacuee wrote:I must say," one of the noblewomen cheerfully tittered aside to Celeste, "you are a fashion inspiration, my dear. Such sleekness, such elegance, and such convenience!"

Celeste smiled with genuine enthusiasm, and inclined her head modestly toward the assembled nobility. “My sincere thanks, but credit should be given entirely where it is due! M. LeBlanc at Sommier Gérard works persistent wonders with silks and brocades, especially in the service of Dame Theater—why, after seeing his work gracing the fair shoulder of the talented mezzo-soprano in “The Woodcutter’s Daughter”, I simply could not help but enlist his aid this night.”

She giggled pleasantly. “After experiencing the like firsthand, I daresay the Rokuma style has much to recommend it! Now: while M. LeBlanc is chiefly known for his work as costumier, he also operates a simply enchanting side venture as a conventional dressmaker—in which capacity, I may add, he represents a steadfast champion of the Empire silhouette! He is available at 334 Rue Villette, should you ever require proper gallery-evacuation attire: only say that you have been sent by Mlle. Viardot, and he will be most accommodating!”

Mlle. Rondelet wrote:"But, um, I was actually kind of wondering," Cerise began, with a pensive finger to her lips, "I'm not sure things around the city are very safe for us, after what happened... where exactly are we all going to go once we get out?"

“A most pertinent question, Mlle. Rondelet!” Celeste appeared to lose herself in thought for a bit—granted, not a particularly long bit—then smiled politely at the crowd of nobility. “I beg you forgive me, kind sirs and mademoiselles: I require a moment to confer with my fellow-orchestrators.”

Turning swiftly, she pulled her housemates into a close huddle, adopting a conspiratorial whisper that sounded as if she had only read about what conspiratorial whispers were supposed to sound like.

“Friends…oh, friends, I find myself perched upon the horns of a nigh-unspeakable dilemma! On the one hand, courtesy indicates that I should provide this needful company with my house and grounds at Bienassis—for I have been living in the City these three years hence, and have no need for the property save as a resting-place for those in need. On the other…oh, but I keep Bienassis unmaintained, bereft of staff and furnishings both, and the safety of this band cannot be guaranteed if they dwell so far from our caring gaze! Thus, Kindness, for her part, demands I petition Devereux that they be housed at the Chateau, and there receive the protection and ministrations that are their due…but then, how dreadfully inconsiderate to our noble landlord! To say nothing of where in the Chateau they should be housed…”

She cast a pleading look around the group. “Oh, thoughtful friends…your counsel would be an inexpressible comfort in this trying circumstance!”

"Come on!" Tomas shouts, running into the sinister building. "I've got an idea!"

Keeping a careful eye out for falling planks or revolutionary assassins, Tomas tries to make his way towards the original crime scene. Vedarrak's right, I AM crazy...

Celeste, the social whirlwind wrote:
She cast a pleading look around the group. “Oh, thoughtful friends…your counsel would be an inexpressible comfort in this trying circumstance!”

"Might I suggest not our home, simply due to lack of space?" Kerrian said, not quite certian if Celeste actually suggested such seriously or not. "Never mind we have no clue how far this has spread. Getting a group through the city right now is probably going to be insane. And to top things off, we have no clue if the general chaos that seems to be going on is part of a concerted magical attack, or massive anarchist stupidity." Kerrian paused a moment.

"But that doesn't even make sense. What's the point...was this what was intended, or is this a distraction for something else?" Kerrian said, not even quite talking to Celeste and company at the moment, more simply to himself, and considering the subject...it was likely a rather good thing he could manage a far better conspiratorial whisper than Celeste...even if his only conspirator was possibly himself.

"It seems a waste to put so much effort into the magic if it was simply for show, unless it was a "Look what I can do!!" and even then..it was probably set to go off when someone found the body. So either it was set up to terrify some poor member of the staff..." Kerrian paused, and turned back to his companions.

"Or it was meant for us."

The Tessier Gallery, Quartier Savant, Port-a-Lucine; March 11th, 770, 9:05 PM
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"Perhaps later." Mr. Agale glanced over his shoulder at the advancing inferno. "For now, we need him to learn more of the mastermind behind this attack. Once we've extracted what he knows, you can do what you wish with him. But for now, I think safely exiting the museum is our priority."

Christophe made a sound deep in his throat, but nodded. Without breaking in his stride, he shifted the comatose kitchen servant onto his other shoulder. Even more wounded than Agale (though the bleeding from the side of his head had stopped), and carrying another man, he still seemed more at ease with his burden than the Borcan lawyer did.

"Sure thing." Christophe said, glancing back over his free shoulder. The fire was now raging ever faster, and any idea of going back the way you had come was pointless. "I hope the twins and Uncle Sebastian got out alright."

Together, you escaped through a side-door in the kitchen, emerging into the night air outside.

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Kerrian wrote:"Or it was meant for us."

"I hardly think any of us are important enough to warrant... this," Alice Blackwood replied, coming up from the back of the noble mob. She took a look at the door and then began shooing people outside.

"I don't know anywhere where, where taking such a large crowd wouldn't be a, a problem," Richard said, with a worried look. "There's a hotel not, not far from here. I, I don't know if it's safe, I don't know if anywhere is safe anymore. The Ministry of Justice and, and the Cathedral are further, but they, they ought to have space, and the priests could help the wounded, at, at least."

"If closeness is the only factor, we'd be better off just having them all head home," Alice sighed. "And no doubt that's where some will go, but I'm not convinced they'd be terribly safe there, with a battle raging in the middle of the Quartier. But where would they, if anywhere? I must defer the decision itself, but say the place and I'll take as many as I can to it."

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Tomas wrote:"Come on!" Tomas shouts, running into the sinister building. "I've got an idea!"

By now, the Tessier Gallery was nearly deserted. Those who could escape the building had, following the main exodus or forging their own exits. The handful of people left were all in the process of making their own getaways. Many of them carried choice paintings from the Gallery walls, works of art that were in their own way nearly as irreplaceable as the people who had left. Maybe they were being rescued. Maybe they were being looted. If the latter, no one would ever learn until they appeared on some distant marketplace.

Tomas forged through the cloying smoke, Cedolin, Cyrus, and Katja hot on his heels. There was smoke in every corner of the building now, not huge amounts, but enough to make your eyes water and your throat sore. Finally, you reached the back-corridor with Mme. Marie Chastel's office. The door was ajar.

Cedolin pushed the door open, words of enchantment on his lips already. Then he stopped dead. Looking over his shoulder, you understood why.

The room was empty. The museum curator, Marie Chastel, was gone, her corpse no longer on the floor. Only a blood stain marked the spot. Of the Sword of Leon there was not even that much left, the sun-hilted blade having vanished completely.

Finally, every single one of the porcelain dolls that Chastel had collected was gone.

• • • • • • Chapter One: The End