Chapter 6 (Continued)

[Asralynn Beauchaud]

The secretary looks impassively back at Asra, no approval, no disapproval. The silence lasts a little too long to be entirely comfortable.

"Headmaster Rothenend will see you now," he says finally. His lips curve ever so slightly. If it weren't for the fact that he is otherwise so expressionless, it would hardly be noticeable. "I trust you will be on your best behavior. Follow me."

"Of course," Asra returns his smile along with a nod of agreement, though her smile is much brighter than his placid one.

He turns without waiting to see if Asra follows and walks down a short hallway. The door at the end, a massive piece of elven-shaped wood, is slightly ajar. The secretary pushes it open further to allow Asra entrance.

The office itself would be rather austere if it weren't for the enchanted wall opposite the door. Like the outer reception area, this wall displays images. Unlike that area, however, this doesn't seem to simply be a trick of light that makes it act like a window. Instead, different areas of the wall display a head-spinning array of moving images that Asra can only begin to take in before Rothenend waves a hand at the wall to blur its contents:

... storm-lashed remains of a harbor where a jungle seems to have overtaken the city beyond it, vines and trees and strange chimeric half-insect half-mammalian flying creatures everywhere while fishing boats have been tossed up out of the sea to lie splintered on the cobblestone streets.

... a sunlit grassland prairie, wildflowers blooming among the waving grasses, but judging by the size of the three horses that feed there, the wildflowers have grown to the size of massive trees.

... a city on fire, a massive humanoid figure towering over the buildings that seems to be made of fire itself.

Asra realizes she knows this city, the shape of the hills behind the fiery leviathan. It's home. Hara.

And then all the images, most of which Asra never had a chance to study, flicker into a uniform soft grey color.

The brief glimpse that Asra gets of the wall is enough to halt her, and place a crack in her usual well-maintained demeanor. She stares, with wide eyes, at the first glimpse of the outside world that she's seen since the wards were erected. It was... not at all what she was expecting. Her breath catches as she witness the flaming hellscape that is Hara, her home...

"Scholar Beauchaud," the Headmaster says crisply. "Sit."

He gestures at a chair, and Asra realizes that she hasn't looked at the rest of the room yet. There is a desk in front of the enchanted wall, but it is nearly empty of anything that resembles work. A round table with seating for four is set in the corner; this is where Rothenend gestures. There is a large woven rug from southern Ardraven covering the floor and a glass-fronted case on one wall that appears to hold a variety of magical artifacts. But in all, for having been Headmaster for over ten years, the office has very little in the way of personal effects.

"Tell me what you've learned."

Unlike his grandfatherly manner near the gate, Rothenend is all business now. He does not request that Asra sit, he does not ask that she provide a report. He instructs, expecting to be obeyed.

It takes a moment for the commands to settle into her conscious mind, but she finds herself obeying at least the command to sit without thought. Her vacate expression gives away much of her thoughts about her home, and the terror her people must be facing while she wastes her time trying to help Meriava.

But she gets herself together. Under the commanding gaze of Rothenend, who could possibly be her enemy, she has to remain strong... She'll get to Hara. If its the last thing she does, she will get there. Even if its only to rebuild, and scavenge what is left of her homeland.

"Of course, sir," she responds, lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders as she launches into her report on the situation. Their negotiations and their efforts to communicate with the higher-ups of the rioters. She explains how she was able to secure a meeting with them, however they wished only to work through a specific mediator.

It likely isn't how he wanted it to go, but she stresses that she did her best, and they now have an avenue to settle things peacefully.

[78rpmlife]

The smile that Iana offers to Garnyn in return carries the same ease that suffuses the rest of her manner, full of genuine appreciation for his reaction - and a hint of mischief, too, when he asks about dropping thing over the edge. "Oh, we've done that," she confides. "If you're here late enough at night, it's fairly deserted, and of course we want to know how it sounds when different things drop to the bottom! Or, if you have a friend on the bottom floor, and a very durable book that you want to get to them in a hurry…"

Garnyn's eyes widen, then his smile follows suit, responding to Iana's mischief with a hint of his own. "Express delivery," he says in a low, awed voice. "Think of what the Opals in the library would say." He slowly raises a hand to cover the growing grin, like he feels ashamed of showing just how delightful he finds the idea. He takes one more peek over the edge, then gets back to business.

The fleeting humor fades, though, at Garnyn's next words. "Yes, I'm sorry that you had to get caught up in that. Katen has just always been that way! And I am positive that those files are important," Iana declares - and then, slower and with more thought, "Actually, I would be very interested to know which ones, exactly, have gone missing. Of course I couldn't ask Katen, but knowing what they don't want us to find out will be extremely informative."

"Difficult relationships," Garnyn says, rubbing at his clean-shaven jaw. "I certainly know some things about those. And more than just from the academic lens." As a Jade Scholar, he undoubtedly has plenty of training on how to navigate them. "It's always easier to diagnose and help with other people's difficulties. It's so much harder to see my way to doing the same for my own relationships." He chuckles dryly. "You'd think a Naucan would be better at it, since we live in each other's heads so much. Apparently you would be wrong. But if I can ever help with..." He jerks a thumb over his shoulder at the door and the difficulty lurking behind them.

"In any case, I've got an eye for patterns," Garnyn mentions. "If you show me a little of how things are organized, I can try and track down what might be missing and look them up in the catalogs. See what they pertain to. Unless you think it'd be better if you did that while I went through documents we can access. I'm happy to do either."

[Ianaeveli Tigenet]

Garnyn's eyes widen, then his smile follows suit, responding to Iana's mischief with a hint of his own. "Express delivery," he says in a low, awed voice. "Think of what the Opals in the library would say." He slowly raises a hand to cover the growing grin, like he feels ashamed of showing just how delightful he finds the idea. He takes one more peek over the edge, then gets back to business.

Iana suppresses a giggle of her own - just barely! - and her emerald eyes continue to dance even afterwards. "Indeed."

"Difficult relationships," Garnyn says, rubbing at his clean-shaven jaw. "I certainly know some things about those. And more than just from the academic lens." As a Jade Scholar, he undoubtedly has plenty of training on how to navigate them. "It's always easier to diagnose and help with other people's difficulties. It's so much harder to see my way to doing the same for my own relationships." He chuckles dryly. "You'd think a Naucan would be better at it, since we live in each other's heads so much. Apparently you would be wrong. But if I can ever help with..." He jerks a thumb over his shoulder at the door and the difficulty lurking behind them.

Her smile slips askew under the weight of understanding, and she nods her agreement, ruefully sympathetic. "Oh, yes, indeed," she sighs. "It's like looking over someone else's essay: you can always see the words that they'vewritten incorrectly, but not your own errors. Seeing in other people's heads may not help you see your own, I would imagine?" She offers that last bit more carefully: it is a true question; for she would not presume to have a full understanding of how Naucans' sharing of thoughts works, not after having experienced it so briefly and incompletely herself.

"But, thank you," she continues, her expression returning to something gentler and more sincere. "I'm managing right now, but if there ever does come a time when I need that sort of help, I will let you know. And either way, I am grateful for the offer, truly."

"In any case, I've got an eye for patterns," Garnyn mentions. "If you show me a little of how things are organized, I can try and track down what might be missing and look them up in the catalogs. See what they pertain to. Unless you think it'd be better if you did that while I went through documents we can access. I'm happy to do either."

Iana takes a deeper breath, letting herself settle more deeply into the steadily centering realm of academic questions as she considers. "Could you take the documents that we can access? I've already been over this particular section of the catalogues," she explains, "so I suspect that I will be able to spot the differences more easily this time."

[78rpmlife]

"So how does finding out about Ellien's shady dealings help you get at Emmenal? You think some of those deals are still in effect?" Georg twists his mouth. "Again, not saying I won't dig into for you, I'm just not seeing how digging up grandpa's skeletons gets at cheese breath aside from a hit to the reputation." Given how tarnished Emmenal's reputation is already, he's not sure what that would accomplish.

"I need to know who else was involved," says Risine, head cocking to one side, as if thrown off stride by the question. She responds so matter-of-factly that it seems likely she thought Georg would realize the answer already. "Anselm was one of the linchpins of a number of schemes. Schemes that persist to this day. Schemes that go all the way to the top, to the Headmaster's office. Do you really think the Headmaster of the School of Seven Stones would be so clumsy as to support the Mad King of Ardraven in secret?. She worked her whole life to distance herself from her Ardraveni noble blood."

She comes to her feet so quickly it knocks the folder to the floor. It doesn't seem to faze her any: she begins pacing behind her desk. It doesn't take too many steps until she has to turn back around. "No. This all was planned. I know it. Between Ellien, Rothenend, the Firefly mining consortium, possibly your grandfather... there's something they've all been working toward for decades. And if I can connect the last pieces, it all can come tumbling down." She stops, spins on her heel and stares Elda and Georg down. "Locking up Adaye... this has to have something to do with it. Why would Rothenend throw his supposed protege to the dogs? She must have gotten close..." It's at this point that Risine realizes she's knocked over her folder and stoops to gather the documents up again, muttering about getting them all out of order.

Elda turns to Georg, eyes wide. Are we sure about this? I know that we're neck deep in conspiracies, but she might just be a little crazy. Maybe more than a little.

[78rpmlife]

"Of course, sir," she responds, lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders as she launches into her report on the situation. Their negotiations and their efforts to communicate with the higher-ups of the rioters. She explains how she was able to secure a meeting with them, however they wished only to work through a specific mediator.

It likely isn't how he wanted it to go, but she stresses that she did her best, and they now have an avenue to settle things peacefully.

Rothenend takes Asra's report in with an impassive look. "If this Dawnstone Scholar -- Morwenna, you said? -- is the only mediator they will accept, then she will have to do for now. I will speak with her myself as time allows and make certain she has the proper support for her endeavors," he says, turning a look toward a tall window in an adjacent wall. From this vantage, it only shows the sky: the faded blue of spring and wispy clouds aloft. He is silent for a time before he turns back to Asra.

"I understand that you have been involved in the study of a peculiar device found in the city. A construct of whitestone and blackstone with unexpected magical properties. Dangerous magical properties. Tell me what you know of it, and who else is familiar with this device." He rests a wrinkled hand on the table, palm down. He wears a heavy ring, a tarnished gold band with a faceted piece of whitestone set in it, sigils etched into the metal. One of them tickles at Asra's memory. Though she was never directly involved with the university at Hara, she knew a number of people who were. She realizes then that the symbol she recognizes is associated with one of the academic societies there, a very exclusive society if she remembers right, though what exactly it was organized around she can't recall. It shouldn't be hard to look up later, though.

[78rpmlife]

"But, thank you," she continues, her expression returning to something gentler and more sincere. "I'm managing right now, but if there ever does come a time when I need that sort of help, I will let you know. And either way, I am grateful for the offer, truly."

Garnyn raises a hand. Not quite brushing away Iana's gratitude, but maybe holding it at arm's length? "Of course," he says, nodding and letting the matter pass without further comment.

Iana takes a deeper breath, letting herself settle more deeply into the steadily centering realm of academic questions as she considers. "Could you take the documents that we can access? I've already been over this particular section of the catalogues," she explains, "so I suspect that I will be able to spot the differences more easily this time."

"Happy to!" Garnyn says cheerfully. Together, they look through the catalogues, putting together a list of documents for the initial search. Iana of course finds most of them, being most familiar with the Archive and the best strategies for finding what one's looking for, but a couple of times Garnyn mentions something he's found as a possibility and Iana gives her figurative stamp of approval. Before long, they've got a large enough list of documents that it's time to dive into the shelves.

The catalogues are connected to a memory glass encoder. When it's working properly, a researcher can transfer documents of interest into a list that is then encoded onto the glass, along with their locations in the Archive. When it's not working properly, a stack of paper and writing utensils is available as backup. Fortunately, today it appears to be working. The palm-sized pane of thick glass slides out of the encoder with a hum and a faint 'clink' as it settles into the tray.

Iana looks the glass over, just to check. Too many times, it's become obvious after heading down to the stacks that it didn't encode properly, and all that work went for naught. Best to make sure before the list is gone. Sure enough, it's there on the glass. Most of the items they're looking for are on the fourth level (Local and Regional Records), with a couple on the next level down, the Folklore and Legends section. It seems that there are references to a 'Macie' in an old folk tale from southern Kasial. "Interesting," Garnyn comments when Iana mentions it. "Isn't your friend Ishan from that area? His speech patterns suggest it, anyway. I wonder if he'd know anything about the tale."

The more interesting thing, however, is that three items are returning a Document Not Found error. That's either a filing error (most common, no matter how careful the Archivists are) or...

Garnyn, looking curiously at the glass around Iana's shoulder, says, "Do you think those are among the missing documents?"

The items returning errors:

First, a recorded oral history available only on an antiquated voicebox system and its transcript, of a halfling clan from southern Kasial that relocated to Meriava a decade before the War started. One of their members was apparently named Macie.

Second, a genealogy of Kasiali nobility. Garnyn had flagged this one because there was mention of a minor noble by the name of Chavon, and he wanted to look it up while they were in the regional records section.

It's the third thing that particularly catches Iana's eye. Her supervisor, a halfling by the name of Dara Fleetwood, in the analyst pod Iana's a part of recently finished an extensive report on financial irregularities in the mining trade. It detailed a number of records of money laundering and backchannel dealing based in the Meriava Merchant's Guild. She never would've though to look it up, except the catalog indicated that it referenced the genealogy that is also missing. Dara's report is also returning an error.

[Georg Elsebethson]

"I need to know who else was involved," says Risine, head cocking to one side, as if thrown off stride by the question. She responds so matter-of-factly that it seems likely she thought Georg would realize the answer already. "Anselm was one of the linchpins of a number of schemes. Schemes that persist to this day. Schemes that go all the way to the top, to the Headmaster's office. Do you really think the Headmaster of the School of Seven Stones would be so clumsy as to support the Mad King of Ardraven in secret?. She worked her whole life to distance herself from her Ardraveni noble blood."

She comes to her feet so quickly it knocks the folder to the floor. It doesn't seem to faze her any: she begins pacing behind her desk. It doesn't take too many steps until she has to turn back around. "No. This all was planned. I know it. Between Ellien, Rothenend, the Firefly mining consortium, possibly your grandfather... there's something they've all been working toward for decades. And if I can connect the last pieces, it all can come tumbling down." She stops, spins on her heel and stares Elda and Georg down. "Locking up Adaye... this has to have something to do with it. Why would Rothenend throw his supposed protege to the dogs? She must have gotten close..." It's at this point that Risine realizes she's knocked over her folder and stoops to gather the documents up again, muttering about getting them all out of order.

Elda turns to Georg, eyes wide. Are we sure about this? I know that we're neck deep in conspiracies, but she might just be a little crazy. Maybe more than a little.

We've been neck deep in conspiracies for all of a week, Georg counters. How crazy do your think we'd sound after just a year, let alone a decade or more?

It is, granted, a valid point. Risine could well be grasping at straws here. But it isn't as though they're spoiled for choice when it comes to advocates, and Georg has an uneasy feeling about the conspiracy Risine is outlining. There are a few too many parallels to the conspiracy he and Elda are chasing for comfort. Fireflies, Angousks, and a highly placed figure in the College. Where have we heard that before? He's been thinking of the conspiracy to bring down the Wards as something as recent as the Wards themselves. A reaction born out of dissatisfaction with Meriava's isolation. What would it mean if it predated the Wards? A cozy network of underhanded business dealings forced to shift focus because of the Wards, or something more than that? His gut twists at the thought that his family may have helped plant the seeds of whatever strange growth they're dealing with.

"Alright," Georg says, "I believe I understand what you're looking for, now. I'll see what I can find, as much for my own peace of mind as your investigation, and share it with you."

[Asralynn Beauchaud]

Rothenend takes Asra's report in with an impassive look. "If this Dawnstone Scholar -- Morwenna, you said? -- is the only mediator they will accept, then she will have to do for now. I will speak with her myself as time allows and make certain she has the proper support for her endeavors," he says, turning a look toward a tall window in an adjacent wall. From this vantage, it only shows the sky: the faded blue of spring and wispy clouds aloft. He is silent for a time before he turns back to Asra.

Asra nods solemnly. This aspect of their plan had gone over smoothly. Her eyes flicker to the window as Rothenend's do, but she finds herself only seeing Hara, her city, in flames in her mind's eye. She stifles a shuddering breath, pulling on her royal training to keep a cool head despite her fears. Though this is the first time she's felt true difficulty in that endeavor.

"I understand that you have been involved in the study of a peculiar device found in the city. A construct of whitestone and blackstone with unexpected magical properties. Dangerous magical properties. Tell me what you know of it, and who else is familiar with this device." He rests a wrinkled hand on the table, palm down. He wears a heavy ring, a tarnished gold band with a faceted piece of whitestone set in it, sigils etched into the metal. One of them tickles at Asra's memory. Though she was never directly involved with the university at Hara, she knew a number of people who were. She realizes then that the symbol she recognizes is associated with one of the academic societies there, a very exclusive society if she remembers right, though what exactly it was organized around she can't recall. It shouldn't be hard to look up later, though.

Asra's eyes snap back to the Headmaster. She hadn't expected this turn of conversation, and blinks in momentary surprise. "I- of course, sir," she stumbles. "I know little of the construct aside from its construction and apparent properties. It had a peculiar effect on the environment, as it had caused odd vines composed solely of metal to grow rapidly around it," she explains, cautiously. She had no idea how much information she could trust the Headmaster with, but she knew she couldn't give him nothing. So partial truth would have to do. "The small group that I was with when we discovered it, along with Master Adaye, are the only ones I know of who have any direct knowledge of it. Its possible others know, given that we found it off-campus, but I would doubt their knowledge extends past it being odd and dangerous..."

[Ianaeveli Tigenet]

Iana frowns down at the string of errors. Document Not Found, Document Not Found. Words that she hates to see - and yet, in this case, a source of information in itself.

She lets out a long slow sigh. "All right. There seems to be a convergence on Kasial in these missing documents: the Kasiali genealogies, the halfling from Kasial who was actually named Macie, and those merchant records that cite the Kasiali genealogies.

"So there are a few ways that we can get around it, I think." As before, Iana ticks off the possibilities on elegant outstretched fingers, careful and methodical. "First, let's look at some more general history and folklore of southern Kasial, to see if there are any more patterns in the documents that are missing: specific time periods, perhaps, or other families besides the Chavons.

"Then we might try to get at some of that information from other angles: literature instead of folklore, perhaps, to find some other adaptations of those missing folktales to see what their content is.

"And we could ask Ishan, too," she agrees. "Although…"

Her mouth presses tight and her eyes pinch with unhappiness as a reluctant thought begins to come to her. She hates to think it. She hates to say it even more. But she has just spent the last few hours grappling with the reality that her _best friend's mother_ is involved in this conspiracy, and every bit of her Obsidian training is shouting at her to consider all possibilities…

So Iana leans in towards Garnyn and says, very very quietly, "Ishan would be in the perfect position to conceal the documents. I hope that he is not the one doing it, of course! But he could be. In which case…asking him a few strategic questions might get him to tip his hand," she realizes with a sigh.

[78rpmlife]

Asra's eyes snap back to the Headmaster. She hadn't expected this turn of conversation, and blinks in momentary surprise. "I- of course, sir," she stumbles. "I know little of the construct aside from its construction and apparent properties. It had a peculiar effect on the environment, as it had caused odd vines composed solely of metal to grow rapidly around it," she explains, cautiously. She had no idea how much information she could trust the Headmaster with, but she knew she couldn't give him nothing. So partial truth would have to do. "The small group that I was with when we discovered it, along with Master Adaye, are the only ones I know of who have any direct knowledge of it. Its possible others know, given that we found it off-campus, but I would doubt their knowledge extends past it being odd and dangerous..."

"Mm. Master Adaye," Rothenend muses. "We'll get back to her in a moment. The rest of this group. Lavian Andoris, I believe, and a halfling Obsidian Scholar? Merielle, I think was the name? How many others know of this device, or even worse have been near it?"

He sits up straighter in his chair and rests his hands, laced together, atop the table. He looks seriously -- though not sternly -- across at Asra. "It's important that I know, you see. This device is extremely dangerous, especially in the hands of someone who might use it for nefarious purposes. Blackstone is not at all something to be messed with, certainly not by anyone not taking the proper safety precautions. You see, I'm afraid Master Adaye may have betrayed your confidences, Scholar Beauchaud. I discovered her attempting to use the device and had to call on significant resources to prevent her from whatever sinister deed she meant to accomplish. She spoke of removing memories when I confronted her. Are you aware of any memory issues you've experienced lately? If she's been doing such things, who knows what plots and schemes she's hidden. I had to confine her to a cell in Whitestone while we investigated the situation."