Shadow Wars: Unlocking Leviathin (1329-1330)

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

My worst nightmare seemed to be unfolding. I was going to fail before I'd even begun. and killed by a deranged man who would have deserted his master if he'd the chance.

Coming Home

Claramae: "No, you may not do that!" Carlotta bellowed over the railing and down at one of the lesser maids: the second maid beneath the other maid, whom cleaned the chambers of the Lady Laurence..or Baroness...or Ambassador...oh folly what do they call her now? "You simply must put the English Roses to the right of her bed, and leave the lily in her sitting room. No..no!" Stamp, stamp went the foot. Giggle, giggle, went Janice behind an upturned hand. If she was not fussing and fawning over the young woman, than she was turning with an iron hand the lesser of the staff. Would not she and Bromheilde have so much to discuss now? The sunlight streamed through trick strained glass that was spun to make sure all angles of the impressive glass was made to glitter its pattern down in the foyer. "Is she come yet?" The girl would ask to find that the answer was still no. Not when one wanted it, nor when one expected it, but at the precise moment it should happen did the the coach pulled by black Freesians seem to slick-slide through the streets. Inside of it, Maxamillion sat opposite she whom viewed the world passing by. "One would dare say you are...glad to be in Skye, to be..home." The old man cut a half smile as his mistress let a fluttering one rise up to be a bit more permanent. "I dare say that might be the truth, aye, the most earnest truth." Saul Apollius said little, Vincere said even less. The pair of them were at crosses with one another since the unexpected developments in the middle of the season. Since Percival Vizharen had truly burned his last bridge, and since even the most intelligent of people found that alliegances of years proved fickle afterall. Be that as it may, at least they could disembark away from England and down onto better, interesting soil? (d)

Alendral: Such was the inherant paradox of the Black Order that news would be fleeting--to the few who knew of it's purpose, but indeed nothing of what it did, it would seem inert, a simple, dead thing that exisisted in name but achieved nothing. The truth was both a testament to the choice of its master and a darker thing, for Alexander had been hard at work--to the few who were close to him would whisper, scarcely little else occupied him, and the Black Order had become a byword for both its wide-spread network...and lately... it's grim efficency. No missives arrived for Clara in that time from Alex directly, only words from noviates said to right missives informing her, curtly, of things and requesting information in return. The Black Talons rose to prominence within shadow, and at their head the Spymaster lead from the front, a perverse twist of the general who fought along his men, skulking in shadow. It was war, make no mistake of it. In the abscence of Clara, Alex had gone on to declare war against the vipers within, and Clara had returned embroiled in it. It would mark the first time in a long time that Alex had appeared publicly to almost anyone. Alongside him always was Vance, a measure quieter than usual, a fair amount of the laconic humor taken out of him as of late, replaced with a sort of uneasy caution around Alex, having long since adopted the voice of cautious doubt, the one reminding him that he was, at the end of the day, human. Much as he was doing today, in fact, knowing that Claramae would, in all liklihood, be displeased with the paradigm shift. Still, when he strove to meet them, Alex himself did little to hide it. Black-clad, with the emblem affixed to his neck, him and several noviates who rose to prominence in their abscence--a young, uneasy looking man with blonde hair, with a face carefully neutral, another one, dark-haired with near-black eyes, with a face utterly impassive, the counterace of a viper poised to strike, and a girl, slim, her hair pulled bound together to pull it taught against her skull, perhaps the only one of the three who looked relaxed. The knot of them, Vance included, strode forward, with each bowing shortly, though Vance merely inclined his hat in sardonic fashion. Alex did not look at the others--his eyes were locked on Claramae, letting silence linger for an agonizing moment, before replying, simply. "...Welcome home, Baroness."

Claramae: Claramae had gone to England with promises to fufill in the same breathe that did the business of the Mor' Triath. Duke seemed trivial and subpar in leiu of what lay beyond the front door. The war was spread now across 'Celtic States' that were in effect an empire. An empire that would change the course of known history. It was two steps down from the coach to the stones. Four steps from landing to the door, and one step inside. Claramae didn't know she'd accounted for that much meticulous detail before having left for England. The meter measures of the wall as versus the diameter of stained glass circle windows flowed a harmonius song that only the hell-bent, the mad, and the mathematicaly devoted would know. Vincere looked at the people infront of Claramae, and seemed to hold an air of foreboding for the countenance of the man whom gave order or followed. It was hard to tell often with these two. No matter how much the woman digressed to the man, he knew enough to distern that in their combined presence the air was thick. Saul merely looked to Claramae, occupying the place usually reserved for Voltaire on the left so that he might escort her, where today he stood to the right of her, giving youth a chance to prove itself. "Thank you, Sir Master. It is good to be home. Good day, Noviate, Master Vance." There was a cant of head, a familiar eye that peered round through propriety to seek out the unasked questions, but even this turned up as the staff along the first landing of the stairs dipped into bow or curtsy. Janice held a formal introduction so long? "Good day to you, rise.." "Master Laurence!" Baroness did not hitch to that tongue, not even the wind seemed find sticking place as the expression was damn near breathless as the air under a butterfly's wing. Claramae took Janice's offered hands, and placed a caring kiss to her brow. "Good day, Lady Viscreed. For you are such now, look at you. It is as if the sun is brighter and you have blossomed into a magnificent rose. Your diligence has done you well. You shall tell me of your studies and adventures, very soon, yes?" Oh my, would she! Sent to see what wonders Bromheilde had for her, she would gladly oversee the placing of things in the studies, laboratories, and libraries. One by one, the people in company seemed to fade away. Vincere merely made his presence known with a half bow, a nod, and that would be the end of him. Saul was sent to find his rest or pleasant distraction. Unlike Vincere, he was reluctant, for the knight in him had vowed to leave her not unattended. When made aware that here, she hardly was such a thing, he begrudginly accepted the fact that a plate of food and some time to think suited him. (d)

Alendral: So to did the others fade in time, slipping away one after the other, though Vance, for all his unusal reasons, slipped beside Voltaire as he started to melt away, throwing an arm around his shoulder as if they were old comrades and remarking, off-hand. "Replacin' ya for someone fresher 'n younger, eh? Ain't that always the way women are...? " knowing Voltaire would object to such a thing, he only grinned, smiling faintly in Janice's direction before departing entirely, leaving the two to themselves, unless Janice stuck by, of course. Alex, for the moment, only stared. He seemed uncertain, meeting her gaze, a moment of genuine conflict--as if he had almost forgotten how to act in her stead, that there was some struggle to change a mask in her presence. Restrained, for now, he had only nodded and indicated her to the direction of his office, strangely reserved in his emotions, a far cry from the bombastic showman of usual. "Right this way..." with little more than business on the mind, he spoke up at once. "As you can see, there have been a number of new initiates to fill the ranks. New relationships forged with the other Talons have proven fruitful--any potentials falling under a certain.. criteria, for independent thought and certain flexibility were sent to undergo more formalized training. Kendrew's training on the field proved invaluable for their purposes, and he sees somewhat relieved to find a use for otherwise difficult men." he passed an idle glance in her direction, pausing and speaking on business--so it seemed he stuck to business, as if she had never left, more than an arm's length away as they walked. "Between us, we've managed to heavily infilitrate and shut down Mannering's network here, but he remains as evasive as ever. His actions have slowed, either because we are successful or is he adopting a more defensive approach while support arrives. I believe I may have him, soon."

Claramae:To his marvelous surprise, Voltaire actually gave something of a grin. "Still as vapid as e'er when it comes to the formality," though he was not as quick to remove the hand, merely canting his head to the youth Saul, "He is good at this angle. He learns, he stays out of trouble. Claramae tempers is brashness. It lets me watch the mistress from elsewhere." A useful two-fold training purpose. Not really ingenious. No, not even clever. Simply practical. If stories were exchanged downright necessary, but the old man only nodded his head to the side favoring his absent eye. "You would have had a good time in England, Master Vance!" Cryptic, he only went about to tend to the matters of finding out what went on in his absence. News did not travel as quick as it once had for business was slow at best, and missive was easily snatched up. Messangers had throats that could be slit, tongues torn out, or mines twisted. Code took too long to implant, and it seemed neither had the time nor the desire to do what would have showed them as brilliant in their youth. They had no one to impress, least of all one another. "Master Kendrew, pleased? This will bode very well then. With the noviates replenished and trained far more than could be hoped it will be in good context with the other news to be told. England has been successful. May we continue this conversation elsewhere? This is much to show, if it please you." (d)

Alendral:"As you wish." perhaps Kendrew was pleased was an overstatement--the three she had met earlier were Elizabeth, Matthew, and Morgan respectively. The first case was, rather like Vance, a former criminal, though with not quite the reputation, quick on her feet and quicker in mind, who had proven able in almost any capacity Alendral put her in. Matthew, the blonde, was to be trained in the Golden Talon order, and though highly skilled, had a hard time adapting to the rigors--Alendral pulled him out to discover the difficulty was in being forced to follow orders as striclty as order demanded it, constantly looking for the 'shortcut' the more efficient way of doing it. and Morgan--well, sufficed to say there had been a large drop in pranks, mishaps, and general embarassment among Kendrew's recruits soon as he left, and Morgan was spared the embarassment of being dishonored for underhanded tactics. He was merely glad, in any event, to have them all out of his hair. The two slipped inside his office, which while as elegant as ever, was in a state of disarray, with documents and missives strewn over the table, a certain amount of chaos that seemed oddly incongrous to the showman's usual character. "Tell me of England, then. I could not contact you directly for fear of compromising your work there, so I have heard very little." The ghost of apology was on his lips, masked well within explanation.

Set In Her Way [5:09 P.M.]: "As you will." Elizabeth, Matthew, and Morgan. In time, she would come to know them, and they would come to know her from the mere stories Vance told or perhaps the peppering of some past exploit Alendral relayed as he stretched them to the brink over his twisted, strict idealism. If Kendrew was merely appeased with the fact he did not have to prune the jagged hedges of the trio than praise be to God. If one would be a Gold Talon, one would here the commands of Sir Dimitri soon enough. What a strange network they made: Black, Gold, White. All one Master Order yet truly in heed to only a goal, not a person above each rank of color. To not say that any ordained Talon hadn't their own streak of individualism would be a falacy. "The roads were unsuitable and the way too busy for messages," forgiveness in context was given, an apology for the same sin, leaving each to wonder. "My work has been much, both politic and subterfuge. It is no wonder England is as it is, even before his Grace took it. The King would have been dead come mid-summer from his House of Commons alone, The House of Lords would have drawn and quartered him. But Adam has proved suprisngly clever, and has endeared the old heels to him, and opened many offices to the common man. Reconstruction kept everything and everyone very occupied. I was able to investigate what we uncovered before I had left, and prove it true." She took off her cloak, gently folding it over a chair as she reached into false paneling inside. Was it any wonder that a physical treasure might be secreted best on the body of a woman and not inside of a trunk? Three false panels and artifical lining later, she pulled up several long books into her arms, two folios of painstaking notes, The long books all seemed to be bound together by one thick thing in need of unlocking, whilst the other folios were not bound. The last thing to come of it was a smaller journal. Begging his pardon with a nod of the head, she placed them atop his notes. Reaching around her neck, she pulled out the necklace with the emblem of the Rose on it. "England is whole, His Grace is not dead, whilst all of those who sought to offend his person with death are so. I am the Ambassador to England now, and Baroness. It is my belief that Mannering's motives here are slow, because you have choked his plans. You have choked them well to have cornered him, should he stay. I encountered a resistance in London, and in Nottingham, Suffolk, but part of that resistance is merely against the revival of the game. That is all, so in effect, he has no network to count on. Those that are with him were in a scramble, one step ahead for them they knew it would not belong before we were three. Even now, the networks in London and other places have quieted. Those that wanted no part, after seeing what fate lay out for them, have elected to join the cause. Be they in place low born or high." She bowed her head forward to unpin the flat, decorative headpeace that didn't rise as the others had. Inside of it was the remainder of a lock, which fingers began to nimbly assemble. She swallowed to relieve a momentary dryness in her throat. Reality was becoming warm and hazed at the edges, dreamlike. Lofty ambitions that had seemed mad she had been bent on completing, and had. "The others do not know what to make of it..with so much motion of means and materials in England..if they had posistions in cover, they had to follow households, masters, or ladies. By the time they sought to realize..it was done. The Rose but awaits the Black Talon to go to task." As each petal shaped peace was fit around small groves, it formed a flower that could be bent inward to place into the lock holding the books. "The private army is under the guise of either my household, those of my Irish family's house, and a slight few beneath the banner of the Duke..but it has been done. " She raised them an army...and in the process hid Vittergaust's league within layers. "And I found them..every piece of his work...every riddle, revealer, code...and...this. This is the masterwork. Half of it was in the Royal castle, the other half of it, outside of Bedford." She looked at him a moment, before seeming to steady herself. It was always..a ritual it seemed, to open it. Somewhat sacriligeous, and part of an odd whimsy. (d)

Alendral: The ledgers sounded heavier to his ears than they should have been, he found himself unable to tear his gaze away. That she was able to find it all was a testament, but the very idea that she had twisted his stomach into knots. It made him fearful. His mind twisted and turned to undersatnd it, and he realized with some sense of dread that they were indeed close, and as a result in more danger than ever. Mannering may have been near defeated, but Krause... Alex had not found Krause. He knew not where hisnetworks were. He was, for all intents and purposes, a shadow. and as much as he wished he could dismiss it, he feared that Krause, unlike Mannering, was merely waiting. He remained in the face of it utterly impassive, and stared long at Claramae for a time, hesitantly reaching forward to inspect the object with strange, almost sacred reverance. Still, there was another piece missing, he gathered--for they had this masterwork, yes, but Janice was still yet involved, enough to attract the attention. And the masterwork, doubtless, would reveal how.

Claramae:"These are his writings, the folios are mine, but...these four books..these books are ..them" Claramae went around the table to the otherside as he touched them, "The Book of Accomplishment that I took the night we infilirated the household of the bishop and cardinal..are a companion to this....everyone listed in that volume, and everything, is a reflection of some happening from here. Akin to Nostradaemus, the Masterwork lays out a framework to follow that becomes the Accomplishment, you see...so while this volume has beginning and conclusion, the Accomplishment is completed masterwork tasks or scenarios..The Cardinal." The story would become harder to stomach here, as much for what they hadn't known at the time they went into that house as it was they missed it, "And the Bishop, they were not simply ones trying to control Gottschalkians. They knew Elusha, and his first apprentice. They betrayed him. In fact, they had as much a hand in killing him as those that ever touched him. They had read this, seen this, but said nothing until it would benefit their gains. They have started veritable wars of bidding, creating of the perfect of any school, for this. The very world was beginning to fold in on any and everyone, everything! We did not take into consideration that this mystery had been known by anyone else save Vittergaust, Gottschalk, and us in the beginning, thinking all after were merely lackies. The Bishop and Cardinal belonged to the same order as Vittergaust, there masks were merely better because of the Church's money. When Jacob could no more keep concealed what he was doing, they, too, were after him. See here.." She showed him where Jacob, Elusha's brother, wrote in his own journals, "memorized passages from this...and furthermore insight into the activities of what he was doing...looking on dead bodies, cutting them open. They were both skilled physicians, but science was hardly at the root of it.. When I investigated the shop in London, I found old trace from when Jacob had been there of things saved from within bellies and intestine. These.." she tapped the pieces of the key, "Unsuspecting persons were fed them, and often choked or died later of an ingested poison accompanying this..during the movements of the Bishop, Cardinal, the last of Jacob. So I then believe, what Jacob knew scared the Bishop and Cardinal, and they gave up the key..Vittergaust trusted one or both of them. I think, Jacob had found the key, and then he placed them in remedies or suppers. I think, Jacob was not a dabbler. There are times there are two grandmasters in one place, one will often take the apprence of a lesser for the good of the order, for safety of one or the other..but in most cases I fear neither one survives to finish the work of the other, as we see here. Elusha Vittergaust and Jacob Vittergaust are brothers, and one the first born takes first right, what if the other should die? We did not consider that. It seemed utterly proposterous. Jacob was not trained as extensively as Elusha, but he knew enough to kill his own competition with pieces of what they were looking for." She had more to say, but allowed the first to settle in (d)

Alendral: Alexander frowned, deeply troubled by the development, as the weight of it sinked in. First was in how severely they underestimated the Church's stake in this, and their involvement--though not a classical order, had a staggering amount of resources at their disposal, a terrifying prospect in and of itself. It meant a whole new enemy to face, even the terrible thought that things would not end with the Children of Gottschalk. Worse, still, was Jacob's involvement, more than either anticipated. Not the mere relative of Elusha, but in his own way his equal--so what, pray tell, did that make Janice? Were they simply the only ignorant of the fact, and others assume Janice carried the legacy of her father? what kind of man would make his own daughter the key to a terrible legacy, to place her in such danger? And yet, the need to send her away took a terrible new color, not for a man who was simply terified, but knew full well what to be terrified of, and knew the possible fate of his daughter. Folding his hands on the desk, he leaned forward and drew further into an imperceptible mask, merely awaiting her to continue on...

Claramae:"I believe that there is one root in the Church of this, and one only. Most orders this radical become austracized in the long run, and I believe that the church's involvement in the Order of the Rose hangs on only the hand of a few rogue inquisitors and one bishop. They move in our circles, and none to widely, which will serve us well. I have already taken to task one and discovered what will aid us in rooting out the last of them here, they are undone in London." Taken to task? So do inquisitors and and heirs of Vittergaust exchange secrets as the second peels apart the first? "Recall you the book of names? Some are merely 'order members'. Laypeople." She crossed herself. Needless to say, she did not wear a cross when stripping someone of theirs. "To kill those laypeople will give you one more further step to cholking the network. Suddenly word for Krause died in London, and England went dormant. The hold they have on their lackies is beginning to fade given what was promised hasn't yet manifested, but they are becoming rogue and crazed. if they are not executed they escape. If they escape they still hunt former targets and die in the process." Next she spoke of the clues, " Many of the clues became stranger when Elusha put them in the holy languages. My copy of what he taught us, yours, I had put them together and found a veritable personal note, and with the cyphers of our names and personalities I found the lock that opened the....ark of a synagogue that led me to all the maps you see here, coats of arms, rankings, names, places...a few pieces of the greater lock. As I have read all of this...I believe I now know why it is they crave Janice so terribly." (d)


Alendral: Alex found himself, muttering, half-heartedly. "What dreams must you have had for us for our names to be the secret to such a legacy, old man?" before shaking his head and dismissing it. In darker moments, he held doubts about his surrogate 'father' and the fruits of his work, for no matter the noble intentions, it had spawned the legacy they saw sprawled before them. The news that Krause was losing ground was some small comfort, but not enough to put him at ease--it just made him more dangerous, not any simpler. "Then why do they seek her... and why in the name of the Holy Ghost did they see fit to place a girl who can defend herself from none of it as the key to this damned... monstrosity. What possibly would turn the eyes of Krause and Mannering to such a woman?" he turned to look at her with an expression that would have fit well on his wayward master, the one before Vittergaust, dark and with just a hint of murderous edge, clearly imaginging the dark work that would be set out before him in the times to come.

Claramae:"Because she knows the words that will raise Leviathin, told to her in bedtime stories by Vittergaust himself. There are pieces of her mind, perhaps traumatized, perhaps dwarfed by the convent life as Jacob had hoped, that had indeed seen too much. Read too much. She was her Uncle's book-keeper, sold his herbs, in some effect I belief Jacob meant to do what Elusha had no heart to do until she was older, if ever. Tell her the truth, and give her some means against it. He was no master in our trade, but he stod on par with his brother in his, an apothecary, and a retired physic. Haven't you ever noticed how blessedly content she is when she is in our places of science, let alone in any bevy of plants. Elusha would have slew his brother if he would have known what he had done. He was making Janice his apprentice. He would have never set her out to task, but the knowledge would have been..may slightly be..in there. But what is there, is obviously an astonishing education. Janice was not only schooled with the other girls, but had her own tutors, provided by Jacob, in scientific matters, tempered enough so it would only seem to learn enough herb craft to tend a family business should he die, as he had no sons. In order to learn this, she would be taken to a place just south of the convent to a monastery who's chief occupation was rendering apothercaries and herbalists. He gave it to her in a way that even she does not realize. And as far as her being a key...well...the verse if it needs to be read to summon leviathin and name its commander is interlaced with hebrew and aramaic. The summoner also, in general does not live to see the end of nor most of that great war. If they were to acquire Janice, push her to recall what was put inside of her mind...from youth until now...they would have what they needed, and as she would be the summoner...she will have fufilled her role as the key. For all my skill at language, it would still take me a great while to fully decipher what is already embedded in a mind, let alone what Janice herself could read. That is what they are counting on...for her to read the last several pages of each of the four books, or to recite with them open, it is all ritualistic. The books are laid out by the Grand Master of the continent, the Keeper of the Master Work of the age, and are read in appropriate order amidst certain witnesses. Then those witnesss return to begin the war machine in their lands, and it istantly roots in Europe. The seat for this is hard to say. London, Paris, Russia, the Germanic states, any of this held Vittergaust at one time or another but I think they care little for place and more the formality of it to be acknowledge....I have..imbeded into the books false pages to cover the last pages of each volume so should they have fallen awry ..they would think them gone. But that is the whole of it.." She sat down across from him, "The Masterwork of the Age is real, the chain went deeper than we realized though without realizing we cut off a great links of it. Elusha nominated his brother to succeed him, so there has been two keepers, unparalleled in any age. All of the family is dead, I looked. Danielle's family as well. They are gone, annhilated by association. Krause has been the wise one, using the Church as his base while not telling the others, or Mannering would have done something different. Their lackies have lost and are losing patience. We have what they seek, and are still several steps behind us, for how long I do not know. And Janice...she truly is the key to everything, if not the key itself. They believe her to be this key and heir, but only the first is true." She closed her eyes as she spoke, "I found his final wishes..attached to his grave. God forgive me, I had to desecrete his grave. I have had it exumed and brought with me. "Should we elect it, Elusha had named us in his stead...and they have no idea. Upon looking into his further records...on his death...he had left us land, and money...as if we were his children. He had left me a dowry enough to rival whatever my own father had, and you enough to never want.." She undid the lacing of her dress only enough to withdraw papers with broken ribbon and seal. "His daughter also has no need to want. Alexander..when I looked over his remains..they'd...he was... there are..nail markings....in the coffin. He was in suspended animation when he died. In his coffin he had dug into the stone..realizing he would not be out, he wrote wihin it..This was one of my last discoveries so I brought..the contents back to unravel further here." She maintained an heir of utter, unfathomable calm. Slow, a pause within her voice but no breaking. One had only to imagine. No..Alex had only to imagine how hard it was not to unravel for he did the same did he not? So there was the entire truth. A legacy with them who had parts to play. A tale of intrigue and suspicion, of doubt, lies, and great sorrow that wrapped around devotion, honor, companions, and love. For there was no doubt Elusha loved his daughter. In his own way, Jacob had loved Janice so much that he unknowingly ruined her. In the dim light of discovery, shine caught a golden flower that was still settled in Claramae's hair. Not a key, nor a weapon. Merely a beautiful gift given before a venture. (d)

Alendral: Alex could scarcely believe what he heard. Such was the distress that he rubbed his eyes, the weight of all the work bearing down at him at once. How could Elusha have constructed something like this and not gone stark, raving mad? It was the plan for a war, on which the scale would never been seen, which would leave all resistances utterly ahiniliated in their path, and to put it in the hands of his own students--for Janice to become the key, without ever realizing it? He could only guess as to why, and though part of him suspected, however darkly, that one key may have been originally designed for Gottschalk himself. He could only dwell on this for a moment as she explained what was left behind--and the fate of the man they called master, his expression turning stark and alarmed as he shot up and met gaze with her. No... his thought rose, unbidden, knotting at his stomach at the very idea. That he had survived, however briefly--left to madness beneath the coffin. His eyes wandered, struggling to gain a measure of poise in the face of it, unaware that his hands were balled into fists, white-knuckled, for fear of losing sensation in his legs and falling entirely. He was struck utterly speechless--the scale, the vast scale of it all was too much, even for him, even for her. They had stumbled on it all now, as heralds of some new legacy, left with enough fortune to leave this entire world behind--but what would happen were they to truly do that, and leave this legacy to be dug up by someone--anyone--else..? his mind reeled, struck by another stray thought--were they to truly want it, they could unravel the world as ready as everyone else. It made him feel truly ill, and he shut his eyes sharply, growing cold. "... We must put an end to this. We have to remove every single player in this game so that this legacy will never see the light of day again. It doesn't even end with Gottschalk's children. We have to understand Janice's key.. before they rip it from her heart. We do that.. we do that and..." the image of the coffin, darkness, soundless, entered his head and he shut his eyes against it, leaning heavily. "...We safeguard this. We destroy it, should we must." Though it was not so simple a thing as burning a ledger. The only defense now was that they had the same book the others drew from. He stepped back, briefly, staring at her, simply unable to even speak. He was terrified. utterly terrified, made small and almost child-like, a shadow of the old apprentice. He did... what?

Claramae:"Yes, there is no other way. Everything is likened to a game, and I believe one of the maps is coded in just that fashion, a board, and we may be able to place each player to determine their next move...." The hold was beginning to slip. His dark, dark devices turned to child-like fear of that same element which they both controlled. Shadows were malicious, vile things. Choking, writing until pulled back veils revealed blades that would run them through. Cut pieces of their soul lay littered in the study, same as strewn papers on a table that with a window open would blow. Helter-skelter went the imaginary pieces of soul, the blood of the body until nothing remained but the same hollow bones as Vittergaust. "We..must speak with Vance..it is...should be..a ..matter of family, not of order, how we embark to know what she knows." Oh God! That would be more cruel than telling her the truth of her lineage! That indeed somethng was stuck in her mind they must force out lest someone kill her for? She gripped at the chair with both hands, flawless, still lids beginning to flutter. "Holy Virgin, I am so sorry Alex...so sorry that any of this must fall here." The ultimate betrayal of Percival and the near death of Saul, the anger of Vincere she kept to herself. She pushed herself up to stand, and upon doing so it was a good pair of seconds before she was mobile. Instead of advancing, she merely settled back into the chair. Extending her legs out to stretch them, she did the procedure again with better success. What in creation had happened to her that she was not saying, that for even an instant produced a glitch in her motion like that? (d)

Claramae: He had caught the motion, well enough, though he said nothing on it, narrowing his eyes faintly but hesitant to betray her weakness, and the attempts to hide it. Though she spoke nothing of her own trials, he knew them to be considerable. Still there was a hesitation--it had been long since the two had seen each other, and each in turn had been embroiled in their own darkness. Both came about a legacy that saw them both as children, old masters brought to terrible light, nightmares scarcely seen or even imagined by most. How now, to deal with unfinished business, to make the same connection when they had grown so accustomed to solving it alone? and in Alex's case--it was. Claramae had Vincere by her side at all times. Alex, by his own actions as much as anything else, had very little. "...No apologies. Not from you." he said, curiously flat, striding till he was at her side, hesitating, however briefly before placing a hand on her shoulder, rising to touch her cheek, faintly. "You've done more than enough, Clara. you should rest now." an order? a request? A simple acknowledgement that she had undergone an ordeal to obtain something of such colossal import? Or, stranger still, an acknowledgement that he would handle the rest, strangely freeing her old master of the burden of carrying further--for good or for ill. What would be done with Janice was his burden, as was cleaning up the remainders, much as he loathed to. Were she not to protest further, he might have even left her then--he was proceeding to the door to carry out orders, immedietely focusing on what had to be done, on moving pieces along the game board.

Claramae: "Alex --" She caught his hand before he could go to far beyond reach, pulling him gently back to her. With a tug on that same hand, she brought him over to sit on the window's ledge so that sh emight look at him. Not as in matters of business or with critical eye for study. Her eyes had a way of revelation known as his could unravel the hard knots of a psyche. She had taught him, had she not? Vittergaust taught them. In turn, they taught each other. "So should you." How evident was the lack of sleep pressing dark circles under his eyelids or the tones he concealed beneath layers of intilligence and doubt. "I will make no further apology then, though it is only the truth. Were that I could have not led to such a thing, I would give anything to see it undone." She gently touched his face, letting the tips of her fingers touch there when the palm pulled away. "The true rest will come when we have finished this." In her eyes lurked a darkness that held Elusha captive, a sharp edge like his fingernails digging into that stone. She blinked, and it was gone. No less engrained in her head. Vincere was to leave again - no doubt to pursue Percival, though the words he spoke to Claramae were smaller these days. While knowing how important this all was to her, it was still maddening, and even infuriating when Percival had tried to kill Saul all because cared no more for his closeness with Claramae. "Have I left you alone too long.." Did he forget what was human, or hide it so well that the day at last came when she admitted to hers more than him? "Do not leave yet." (d)

Alendral: "...I remember when I was younger, I once commented that I believed Elusha never slept. " in actual point of fact, he had taken the joke so far as to even suggest he never slept, even after enjoying the company of his wife or anything else. His voice was stranged and detatched, as if he was speaking from somewhere else entirely. "It took following in his footsteps to understand why. Too much at stake, too much to do. A few fleeting hours, here, there. I an last longer still before I shall need rest again." he took a long breath, forcin ghimself to steady. Her second comment, no less troubling, earned a sublte glance, reaching up to touch her hand, faintly, hesitant and uncertain before letting it fall again. He hesitated again, uncertain of what to speak. She had left him for some time--forced to rely on himself, he found himself drawing on the very things Gottschalk said must be done. It terrified him to think that his knowledge might be of any use, not to be shed entirely, but he found strength in it, much as it made him sick to do so. "You've never left me Clara. Not once, not in all the time you departed." he left the meaning for her to interpret, though doubtless she had been on his mind for some time. though he made no motion to leave, clearly his answer.


Claramae:"This is why he was a man of so many pursuits. He needed something to occupy his waking hours if no work could done. It is no wonder he had so much time to write or read." When he would jest that even after grand love affairs with his bride Elusha would not sleep, Claramae simply would not listen for it was not good of women to listen to such, nor was it prudent. She would even jest back though that no wonder his skills at chess were legendary for he spent all night talking to the pieces! As if gazing through a mirror, she reported what she saw of an image when saying. "Not too much longer, otherwise twill be the point of such sleep you shall not arise for many an hour. ..i remember." When he had said the second thing, hidden from the obvious she nodded, and gently took up his hands into her own, "You have done far more than any one man may strive to do, and I am proud of you, and greatly honored." A master paying compliment to student former. A master complimenting another. Tucking her ankles beneath her, the leg began to tighten again enough to make her rue that it would still be yet a few more days until it was fully healed. She tested limitations, full movement, balance...it seemed to be now and again, slight actions, a certain contourtion that would say the scar tissue woul dneed to be made more supple. "We will finish this as we began it, together. And importantly we shall remain so after. Even if these halls should hold no noviates or we stand in mirrored halls only to be gleeful over how you have jerry-rigged a portrait, or how I find delight in sitting on a tower's edge. You may rest on that, whenever you do." She breathed in and said, softly. "Know you why it is good to return home?" (d)

Alendral:It chipped at the armor, however faintly. to hear such things. He felt the weight of things start to tuga t him even at he spoke, held back by his own refusal to slow down, to rest, even for a moment. he observed her testing the use of a clearly damaged leg, much as it was difficult to think of Claramae as anything but invincible. "..Why, then?" he think he knew, but he wanted to hear Clara speak again, faintly, to say anything to put him at ease. Simply having her near had already achieved that in some small measures, and though the conflicted voice in his own mind warned him at taking rest, his body and everything else screamed for it, craved for a way out of its own darkness, to take and to touch her against his own fears and concerns, much as the very thought of it brought to mind conflicts that, for the time, were too staggering to properly dwell on. Rather impulsively, when she had obviously moved in such a way to betray a spike of pain, he reached out to touch her hand, lightly, a reassurance that he was there, again.

Claramae:"I learned what it was like to be human, and what he paid to keep that, and the sacrifices he made to honor everything. In that, I confess to you that I grew very afraid, and felt very small. That as twisted, as dark as this is..how am I of anyone worthy to touch it? Ah, I am such a shade of a human." When he touched at hand, she nodded, gently smiling as soon it was set to right again. "Merely a shade with nothing that brings it forth or reminds me I am a member of the race save very little, as it isfor you. But the good part of being home is in that I see why...it is good and right to be so. You are here. Even Vance's ingenuine way I have come to cherish as much as Janice's ability to love without inhibition. To sit on a wall and know Ursula, and the other Noviates..these are good things. Important to me. But above all else there is you, and with you I am truly not alone. Should others leave me, as they well may." Vincere. Saul, one day too, to persue his own adventures. "There would still be you. I have heard it said that home is where a heart rests." She gently touched his chest with a gentle tap "So herein lay mine. A piece of it always with you. As you are with me." She nodded, "There are things that even though I attempt to tell others, you are all that fathom it on the first instance. All of my secrets, sorrows, and joys..lay here and lay with you. all of my joys, all that is good..is here too. I see what he meant when he said that inspite of all things, you should triumph in that which is elusive in the dark. So." She squeezed his hand gently, "Therein is all the love I have for you." If his eye drifted to her leg, she only said, "Soon I shall not feel it at all, and it is not as angry a thing as it seems. if you wish to know how it was garnered I will tell you. I do not mind so much." There would have been a time she told him nothing, now if anything, he was but all that kept her sane in this world. Elusha was terribly ingenius in that he made matches of substance and companions of circumstance. If any could teach him how to be cultivated in a spectrum of things, it was Claramae. If anyone could teach her how to do so with a sense of being, it was Alexander. (d)

Alendral: It was a strange place he found himself in, with Clara speaking of the one place she found her solace, in the last place he would have expected, in the old student. Perhaps knowing then how much she had come to rely on it, he eased to a place closer beside her and brought an arm up slowly around her shoulder, struggling to shed his own mask as he did, cold and artificial at first, but warm enough after. "Tell me, then." he said it as much so that she would have the benefit of speaking it as he hearing it, knowing that it, as so many things would weigh heavily on her mind. He had given Clara something, much as the very thought of doing such had left him dizzy and on unsteady ground. A home. Of the many things he knew of Claramae, he found the concept.. comforting. He had struggled with the idea of 'home' for as long as he could remember, finding a semblance of it in Skye... and now, it seemed, he had given his old mentor, a woman perhaps closer to him than anyone a piece of it. It was... complex, but it had elevated him from what dark place he resided for now as well. Alex himself bore no scars from their time apart, at least none that had resided on the outside.

Claramae"This is home, and everyone in it, chiefly you, make it for me. I love you, a great deal. The years have been not kind in its articulation, but I do. Far more than you can imagine, than you know. Enough to love you well above all else and all others." She leaned into him as the heart of the stone wall opened to reveal a softer place that carried him, too, to somewhere better. "We had come off the Thames and to the side where the shop in London lay, where one of the folio books was. It seemed someone else took the same pains across rooftops and rivers. The folio was on the second level, in a flat crawl space atop shelves. Fighting ensued, were Vincere and Saul not there I venture it might have gone worsely. While I had made it up the stairs, climbed the shelves, and fit myself into the narrowest of places imaginable..one of the men took hold of my legs.. he had been trailing me, and I him, and he was enraged I came to his place, what he wanted. For once in my life..I didn't know if I was going to live. I realized that in any phase of this venture, there were many that lived not long. Gottschalkian or otherwise. He tried to pull me down, and all I had would have been a place that trapped me anyhow to be up. He screamed at me for it, to surrender it, or he would tear it from me. Cut it from me. Saul was downstairs..Vincere was trying to make his way upward, but it seemed for hours I was wedged between this tiny space with my legs held between one end and another. Then I wretched an ankle free and kicked him, he flew into such a rage as he took out his dagger and seemed intent to flay the flesh off my leg. It was no educated cut..it is only the scar I contend with, and a little muscle..no ligaments torn nor permanent muscle damaged, my arteries did not bleed out though ti seemed they might.. I saw red from the corner of my eye and seem to just remember...screaming. My worst nightmare seemed to be unfolding. I was going to fail before I'd even begun. and killed by a deranged man who would have deserted his master if he'd the chance. Admittedly, for a few nights afterwards all I saw in my head everytime I closed my eyes was him. And then I saw Gottschalk behind him. I do not think I slept for a fortnight after that. (d)

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

Alendral: It was a strange thing to hear from her lips, spoken so readily, cutting right to his core, leaving him almost feeble in its wake. To have her so forward with such a sentiment on top of it, so willing top say it--something had changed, deeply within her in the intern, though he could only imagine what. The explanation of what happened, however brief was another sign of it, perhaps a subtle insight into her character. Shaken, however much, but such an end. It was the sort of fear that nobody saw, the uncertaintiy. The woman buried deep within. At first, he responded with quip. "What, Claramae St. Laurence, laid low by a thug? Perish the thought." but the joke died at the mention of Gottschalk, which earned another silence, drawing her in close to him, letting the silence lay in thick before breaking with a few words. "Claramae I've.. loved you since you drew me out of the darkness. I've told you all of what I would do, but that seems.. insufficient. " he elaborated nothing further, simply took in her nearness, however fleeting it would most likely be, regardless of the conflict currently raging within, for though he said the words, and believed them, he admitted that he did not understand the meaning--the extent. Assuredly, she was probably feeling similar.

Claramae: "Learning to love, to admit that there is more to life than a belief of what one is melded to be..but what one can choose..all of it means precious little if it goes unsaid." His jest made her chortle softly, "That would be all the end I would give, and before a marble statue erected..that would have done no good!" A bit of humor faded. He drew her in, and she held him in return. When he spoke it brought a peace to her heart, a resolution that should all else come at least a few precious words were heard. Her forehead would gently lay atop his, "I know among us some things need no words or often go unsaid. You have told me in deed. If you 've anything else to tell me, you always can. I never judge you, Alex, though it may seem my scrutiny bears heavy on many things." In the end for all his life and love, Vittergaust did not reveal his final ends even though he thought it over. He died, alone. Mad and so alone. God forbid such fate ever be any of theirs. Breathing inward she listened to what he would say of any and everything. It seemed so strange that her heart ached, but it was not unpleasent. "I will never leave you to the dark." (d)

Alendral: Another shared trauma, the thought of their master buried alone, left to darkness. A thought traumatic for both of them--dying as they lived. The very thought sent a chill through him, and he simply clung close to her in the silence between them, replying only. "Neither will I." while leaning into her. reaching up to gently graze her chin with his lips, a fleeting, subtle gesture, tenative as it was necessary. He had no idea fully what she had endured in the abscence--nor had she any idea what he had, in truth, but the proof of it was all around them--in the tension in Vincere and herself, in Saul. in the way Vance seemed uneasy, the new faces, and the loss of old ones. It was in everything. They had endured in the tumult, but as they always did, they carried scars, some that would heal and others that would not.

[Janice Olivia Monroe]

For all the best laid efforst of young Janice in her wayward try at the hand of spies, alas, it was not long lived...

yet she knew more than she ever thought to know..

Janice: "Miss Viscreed, that is not becoming of a young lady, eavsdropping..."

"I will make penance. But do you not want to see Master Voltaire swooning. I know you've admired him.."

"You're freedoms are making you cheeky. That is no good trait in a wife..let me see."

Janice retained a sweet-faced allure that the strict Carlotta allowed to melt her exterior that detesting eavesdropping, and other means of sneaking about. Then again, where were they? Ebony Hall was anything but common, and even inception of manners too, could disguise the truth if one wanted. It wasn't as if she were clinging to the edge of a wall or peering in a window. The door was open. It was only a recieving room after all, and it was facing a direction so that anyone passing would glance going one way or another. So what if she elected to stand still while noviates, servants, and visitors crossed the foyer? Maxamillion Voltaire had the tip of a foil down into the plush Persian carpet, and in his opposite hand was a flower. He seemed to be going over one thing in his head, shaking it, and going over it again to see if it would be correct. Carlotta pressed her charge to see for whom the words and dreamy face was for, and when she gasped, the pair simply moved along as if nothing was wrong! "Life here is making you deceitful, mistress," Carlotta grinned, " I don't believe you!" Janice shook her head from side to side, sending the strands that were at her shoulders frm side to side. Smiling, the girl with a heart-shaped braid at the back crown of her head (from Carlotta, mind you, who found it so sweet and fetching) replied, "and I thought that observance was a requirement of you! Master Voltaire has been very particular in his affection to Mistress Bromheilde. I didn't believe it myself at first, but Chloe told me.." "Chloe, oh I am going to scold her!" "Oh she found nothing by snooping, only by listening when she was sent to task by you or Bromheilde, anyhow....while helping to make Master Laurence's bed, she heard Bromheilde back crown of her head (from Carlotta, mind you, who found it so sweet and fetching) replied, "and I thought that observance was a requirement of you! Master Voltaire has been very particular in his affection to Mistress Bromheilde. I didn't believe it myself at first, but Chloe told me.." "Chloe, oh I am going to scold her!" "Oh she found nothing by snooping, only by listening when she was sent to task by you or Bromheilde, anyhow....while helping to make Master Laurence's bed, she heard Bromheilde humming, and our stern faced mistress of the household said to herself that Master Voltaire had left her a gift!" (d)


Vance: For all the best laid efforst of young Janice in her wayward try at the hand of spies, alas, it was not long lived. A gloved hand laid not entirely-gently on the shoulder of the young little sneak and leaned down. "Bit of a long way from the girl in the nunnery, I'd say." he gave a toothy grin as he observed the details, raising his eyebrows perhaps but otherwise saying nothing, other than silently confirming to himself that Max was a man after all, and not some inscrutable golem. "Common lad, give a manwho values his privacy a lil' peace. " where he had materialzied was anybody's guessed--he slipped in under Carlotta's vision as much as anyone), though now that he had given his appearance away he turned to flash Carlotta a leering expression. "'n you? I mighta expected a little errant curiousity from a woman all locked up in a nunnery 'n not versed in the way of the worlds, but aren't you the cheeky lil' thing? Always knew you were naughtier 'n your attitude suggested." and with that causal barb into Carlotta's properiety (as well as a faint wayward glance, he stood to his full height and faintly tugged at Janice.) "Common darlin', off ya go. Boss-man said somethin' about you givin' a proper greeting to the Lady Laurence, and I'd be remiss if I didn't see ya fit to leave the proper impression."

Janice: The world was still a thing of wonder to Janice, and it always would be. The cacoon was open and butterly wings beat at a feverish pace. Monarch in question turned her pretty little head in the direction of the intrusion, blushing heavily. Still, in the face of discovered sin she smiled. "That is a terrible thing to say. One ought not forget oneself," change was inevitable. Carlotta, her partner in crime, wanted to swat at the man for coming upon a young girl so. "You are a vile creature. Though, I wil say that God created women to rest with things that no man would ever tear from them. It is our posistion in this world to know things, you proud, overbearing so-and-so." Picking up her basket of vittles to be stored, Carlotta leered at Vance before passing Janice to the left with a sweet hand for a sweet face, "Show the Baroness all you have learned while she is away, yes? She will be pleased." Seeing an opening she caught her wish, swatting Vance's hand, "You escort a woman, you don't pull her like she is a wagon! Miss Viscreed IS a young lady, and a true one of quality." The moment of indulgence ended. Like many of the female persuasion, you either liked Vance utterly or detested him completely. Janice was of the rare sort that loved him constantly and tried to utterly save his soul on a daily basis. "Do not say it that way to poor Carlotta, even she deserves a chance at a little fun, don't you think so, Vance? Oh for pity's sake.." She came up infront of him with her hands behind her back. For all of the careful steps, for all of the calm, she certainly had come alive in the last several weeks, hadn't she? "You shouldn't put upon her so. Promise me you shan't?" She put a hand on his chest, then her arms around him. If sugar and honey converged, they still would not have the same content as Janice. (d)

Vance:"Ahhh, like ya'd have any experience 'n proper way a man handle a woman, or any at all!" he quipped sarcastically, seemingly unmoved by the protesting swat, which only seemed to encourage his grin. "'Course, should ya ever been of the curious sort, well, ya know where my chambers are?" shortly after he got his last shot in, poor Janice seemed to know the way to reign in Vance's tendency's, who shot her a look rather strangely congruent to a puppy who had his favorite fetch object taken away, before sighing heavily. "Fair enough, little Janice. You know I was only tryin' to raise your skirts, Carla" whether literally or figureitively best left to interpretation, but he returned the hug as casually as one could, an arm slung around her shoulders before he mock-swayed her, like one would a small child. "Alllllright, alright, off we go then, before poor Max loses his nerve with all the noise." he urged her silently onward, going so far as to tip his hat in Carlotta's direction, a subtle sign that he, of course, meant none of it, as if it would help what he said at all.

Janice:"Raise my...oh! You are a scoundrel, if you were any other man of that sort I would let you know where near Miss Viscreed for fear you'd sully her purity." Not that eavesdropping or gossiping with the maid did any such a thing. No. Never. Of course not. Vance on the other hand was the devil incarnate while Carlotta sat on the right hand of the Holy Virgin. To a girl who's family was made up of former thieves, hooligans, misplaced women, showmen, and noble folk, each individual sat little lower than an archangel in the garden of Eden. "You are such a dear Carlotta, to care for me so. Will you come with me later for Vespers, and in the morning for Mass?" The maid suddenly clapped her mouth shut. Jaw tightening, she sighed. Scolding Vance would do no good. In truth, if Janice loved him so there must be something redeemable. Kissing her forehead, the maid nodded as sure as any promise in word before going off to harrass the rest of the household into well mannered perfection. It seemed that Janice knew not only how to reign in the vangrant behavior of Vance, but how to save them all from Carlotta's lectures on decency. "With all of this peace, you can not begin to imagine how ardent she is upon not losing a single young girl in the house to indeceny. War makes for a moral looseness in men that sun and blossoms make worse, as a maiden's head is filled with fluff. Well, some are. It is not a subject to invoke I promise you that. Carlotta could have been a reverand mother." Instead of being pulled upon, she slid her arm in Vance's while affording him a great smile. "I have missed you." (d)

Vance:"And I've been missin' you terrible, little Janice." Vance managed a smile guarded but nonetheless inscrutable. The reasons for his departure, and the events were never mentioned to her. Partially due to Alendral's wishes, but just as much for her own. The truth was, the time of 'relative peace' was not felt keenly by members of the hall, and times of late had Vance doubting things in a way he felt he could tell very little, if anyone. Even Alendral had stopped heeding his advice, past a point. "But look at you, wise 'n knowin'!? If I didn't know better I'd be sayin' the Baroness poise been rubbin' off on you. " her warning of course, would probably only make Vance more eager to push at her buttons, but no sense in depriving her of that faint hope. "I've been hearin' you 'n her being a right terror with the house-staff." Which wasn't strictly accurate. Carlotta was the iron fist, she merely the velvet glove, at it were. "Though I can't suitably imagine it."


Janice:"Things are never the same without your company. Carlotta has been wonderful. God should bless her all of her days. It is said that she has seen two daughters, two nieces, and countless household servants turn a good thing in age." By the seasoned age of thirty-seven, Calotta had done that, and more. The Bromheilde of the gentry, she melded well with the true Bromheilde of the nobility. There was increased virtue, diligence, fortitude, and humility among ladies in her training and care. Perhaps that was why Janice brought forth her kindness, compassion, and humor for she had enough of the first four things in spades. "The Baroness' poise....oh you can not mean it! Oh, I should only ever hope to have even the smallest portion of anything that is Master Laurence. As it is, I am amazed that the Lady Inverne, the lady Avalle that is..commended me so. But to be compared to Baroness Laurence.." once, one of the women in the castle had said that her court ettiquette was akin to the lady of Inverne and Janice nearly fainted! Of course, Vance made her into some holy noble terror to which she scoffed and crossed herself, "No, never! Oh, I should never put upon those who care and are guaranteed a place in heaven. Blessed are the meek..you know. They shall inherit the world." Carlotta, Bromheilde would be queens in that instance. Along the way she said, "I am glad that the Barones...Master...Vance what think you it is most suitable to call her? She seemed to wish to be merely Master Laurence in our company..I dare say everyone seems rather confused. Baroness. Ambassador, master...which is it?" (d)

Vance "Haven't ya figured it out yet?" Vance couldn't help but suppress a grin, glancing playfully . "She's whatever she wants to be. Stick with Lady, though I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't mind ya calling her Claramae, though she will never, ever show it." Unlike everyone else, who marveled at the wonder that was Claramae, Vance figured (right or wrongly) that he had her well figured out, and in poor Vance's eyes, Claramae was a woman that suppressed everything but secretly got a thrill out of people breaking all the rules of courtesy, else why would she ever put up with him? "Master, works too, if you insist on it." he passed a nod to the trio that moved down the hall as they passed--Matthew, Morgan and Elizabeth were all returning from a difficult day's work, with Morgan smirking in Vance's direction, Matthew offering an honest wave and Elizabeth, as always, hardly noticing, probably too tired from all whatever it was they were doing beforehand. Shrugging his shoulder a bit again. "In any event, m'afraid Alex won't be joining us." rather unlike everyone else, Vance found using his real name strange and a little unsettling, and wondered why everyone was so willing to accept it as a good thing. "Important business, ya understand. He was up all last night discussin' somethin' of some import with the lady. " for once, he didn't make a joke about it.

Janice: "No, I hadn't but you are very right!" Janice put a finger to her chin and considered the possibility that Lady St. Lauence was a mythic figure of class wherein the same talent Alexander Sorschal had for illusion and disguise. Certainly in some far-off land she was one thing, while here she was another. Vance for once offered sound advice on what title to address her by. "Master Sorschal isn't coming? Were it not for all that is come, I would say that was not like him, but he is not himself." The walls didn't talk. The people who inhabited them or spied in peering glass didn't talk. Vast stores of silence came on the subject of Master Sorschal's adventures, and Vance did not tell her either, thus she was not meant to know. As an obdient, good lass she kept her mouth closed but her mind for once released it's musing, "He hasn't been, for a long while. He shifts about when he would stand still, and speaks shorter where he would once be longer. His heart is sick." With a malady diagnosed, the prescription was regretably either prevention of the end-game or death. The second was too enduring, the first would still scar him for life. As they came upon the Baroness' doors, she furrowed her brow in thinking before waiting at the door, "I wonder how Master Laurence has faired, then." (d)

Alendral: Anyone who knew of Sorschal knew that a toll was being taken, but such was his nature that he dare not speak of any of it. To her wayward question however, Vance was more open to contemplate. "Mmm, well far be it from me to claim to have some great insight into the woman, but she seems at once relieved and a bit troubled. Like I said, her 'n Alex discussed somethin' long into the night last evenin'. I did not get the impression that it had put either of them much at ease when it was all said 'n done, but she is nonetheless relieved to be home, in a sense. And she'll be more relieved to see you again, I have no doubt of this. So let's not postpone the matter any longer, yes?" he smiled, not entirely unpleasant and made a quiet wrap on the doorway to the chamber's, flashing Janice a bit of a sincere smile. Strange, to hear Janice, who had only recently met the Spymaster, to note something amiss in his demeanor, but then, perhaps anyone who saw the old self would reflect on the change--Elizabeth's crew, by contrast, knew nothing else.

Janice:"Then yes, let us not wait a moment longer. If anything will bring a smile to her face than I am pleased to do so. After all that she and Master Sorschal have done for me." The Noviates had among them those that were hard to discipline, meld, or respect authority. Others were over-achievers, while some did what was expected. Noviate Elizabeth and those with her were still new to Janice, a sort of novelty for they seemed mildly curious of her, as she was of them. She paid them greeting or goodbye, though despite her keeping from certain business, it was a fascination why she was given access to libraries or studies, why she could acquire or was made to acquire the oddest of things. At the sounding of the door, Bromheilde pulled it back. "Baroness is expecting you, please, come in Miss Viscreed, Master Vance." With three steps in Janice couldn't help but arch an uncharacteristic brow in shock. "Hell..Hello Miss Bromheilde." She spoke -- English? "Baroness, Miss Viscreed is here for you, with Master Vance " That would almost have her forgetting to curtsy - almost - but she had so long wanted to render the smooth social custom flawless for Claramae, that on presentation she dipped into it without fail, gently nudging Vance to bow as he ought.

Claramae:"Good afternoon, Janice, Master Vance. Please, rise, and come in. You are graceful and elegant, the hallmark of a lady, Janice." Claramae approved. Indeed, she was amazed at how quickly years worth of manners, standing, education, and graces seemed to be soaked up by such a zealous student. Opening her arms, she let the girl embrace her, one of few who might enjoy such proximity to good result. (d)

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

We can not understand the deepest recesses of the mind. How some things are recalled down to the last inscrutable detail while others are sequestered in shadow, thick as tar. That is the crux of the art - of this war - that it is an elevation of the mind's intellect in celebration of what things the body may do. No matter how twisted, nor sorrowful, there is an excellence in any that claim mastery or fosterage.

For those who have not figured - it is what the mind is hiding that leaves the trail with one less necessary piece.

God help us.

Vance: You could lead a trained horse to water, you couldn't make him drink. You could remind Vance to be proper, you could not make him do it, even to Claramae. "Yeah, much to my chagrin. all prettied up 'n proper fitting of the courts, never allowed fun proper." though fun for Janice was a hall full of books, and not the more bawdy types of amusement Vance often kept himself interested in. Hands on his hips, he took a step back to allow the two to get reacquainted in turn. Truth was, Vance had only really encouraged Janice partially for her benefit--just as much for Claramae, who--at least he hoped, found the situation he was returning to as mildly upsetting as he had being in the direct line of things. Information for Vance had come sparingly, but the change in the winds was enough to key him in--were he within earlier days, he would have ran, doubtless, and left the trouble behind where it started. That he could not so easily he admitted he found... troublesome.

Janice:"How are you, Lady? It is good to have you home. It is not the same without you..." Janice took the open-armed invitation to complete the half circle to a full one. It was different, hugging silk against her own, the two fabrics coming together with their own set of secrets to tell. The scent of her rose-water made her eyes unexpectedly tingle with uncried tears. Was it like the maternal-sense one experienced with an elder sister of sorts? She kept her compsure, making sure Vance wasn't saying anything to upset "lady laurence" whilst the lady allowed the hug to linger for some time yet. "Were your adventures taxing? Mine have been not so - if anything, a little more daunting than I am used to, but not taxing. I was given the task of setting to right the record books and library of an associate. There are many business people in this city with abhorrid practices. It is a wonder they can find their own shoes in the morning." The girl had made a small name for herself then in a practical fashion.

Claramae:"I fear that we are all over-priveleged and become rather skeptical of the world's ability to mind itself. An eye like ours is rarely bred, and if it is bred, woe unto the poor shop-keep." There was more talk of this shop-keeps who were horrible, and ones her amazed her. Potion bottles, glittering glass, instruments of odd names, and the curious she had the privelege to acquire were as common as the outings with some of the young ladies in Turas Lan. She had a few friends to call upon, an even a promised tour of the Isle to attend. As far as the realm of gentleman, the poor girl had caught a few eyes, and as cordial as she could be, it still seemed that the epitome of all men was Mr. Renquest. One may truss up a country girl but it takes not the simplicty from her! In due time, the visit was brought to a close. "We shall take our supper together tonight, and you can even suggest Vance come along if he does not think he will be bored." Slight the barb tipping hand to prod Vance with, but it was something indicative of jest. :"May I steal your brother?" To which she replied of course, knowing her ways well enough that walls here have eyes. If anywhere else, she was safest here in the beautiful madness of Ebony Hall. Safety was a state of mind, however, to which Claramae was still switching to embrace. (d)

Vance:"Lord almighty, if ya don't mind a man spoilin' the decor." Vance replied in what was the closest anyone would get to cordiality they could muster for the like of him. Smiling faintly again, smirking faintly at the so proper joke from Claramae, rare as such a thing was. There was no exaggeration that she was anything but secure here, either--standing orders were to protect her at all costs, and she had never went anywhere without shadows, whether or not she knew--lately, the trio had been keeping an eye in their spare time, though they were under instructions to stay out of sight, 'lest she feel too much the bird in the cage again. Being referred to as a brother caused a faint amount of surprise, though he masked it well enough, merely inclining his head as Janice swept out of the room, half-smiling faintly until she left. "Well well. Happiest I've seen the girl in a while--not to say she's terribly unhappy in the situation, lady, but I get the feelin' she thinks the world of you, I'd suspect. I take it London was much how you 'n Alex remember it?" he made some semblance of small talk, simply knowing that Claramae would get around to speaking privately about whatever she felt like on her own damn time.

Claramae: "If we've had supper with serpents we can entertain rakes." she retorted, and that wa show Vance Evans was given an invitation to supper with his 'betters.' Not that birth, nor privelege, seemed to matter as much as it was touted by the novices as a thing of legend with whatever master they elected to admire. Details like a street-wise savant or a court-ordered intrigue, each different, but no less enticing, were the subject of late night tit-for-tat as they attempted to unrival local urban myth. How did a lord die? What of a lackey found by the aquaducts who was mad by morning? How did the treasure disappear, and whom had the most secrets? In a room where two so admired stood the Lady told the Rake of a disturbing tale no noviate would want to hear. "It is all that, and more. London has left its mark in the world, be it from Adam's unusual genius come to realize or what awaits there to haunt you if you are one of us. Vance, how much as Alendral told you? It is my belief he tells you most everything, or once did. But he is not himself..." Logic went: Tell Sorschal, he would tell Vance in a less prolonged, to the point rendition. But if suspicion were correct, he was telling no one more than was barely necessary, adding to his sense of personal calamity and danger if he were caught unawares or left to go mad. Her eyes were level with his, but not hard. (d)

Vance:"That sounds..." Vance considered what he said gravely enough, after all it must have been grave, but his own education was well short. he rubbed his chin then and stared at her for a long time. "I mean... that sounds utterly daft. Completely daft. What possible knowledge would Janice know without knowin'? Fine, fine, she's good with her hands, I heard that one well enough, but that's a far cry from havin' some terrible secrets inside. " he frowned, rubbing the back of his head with this disturbing news. He knew that she was important, but the full scope of which was well beyond his own undersatnding of events. "Alex'd doubled up on the protection she's offered, and puts some of 'is best on her tail without her knowin' much about it. We've already stalled a handful of kidnappin' attempts between then and there, but we never told her as much. You're tellin' me this is all the matter of some ancient... something?" clearly agitated, he'd turned to stalk back and forth, ruffling his own hair in sheer frustration, more energy than he knew what to do with.

Claramae: "A handful of attempts! Alexander hadn't told me that...this only means that there will be far more to reckon with.." She watched his frustration inspire movement as realization kept her glued to her chair. "Yes, Vance. All of this is ages old. Lore on who becomes the Grandmaster on each continent, of who keeps a great book of record and trade called the Masterwork, the writers often kept secret. These are the stories that Alexander and I were told, never even believing for an instant they were true....but the sickening truth is they are, and beyond Orders, there is something they all are fighting for and this is it, to call up the largest army even seen of our sort and annhilate anything standing in the way of that house....in stories..orders and ways were virtually wiped out, and the summoner with it...They are trying to use Janice as both key and summoner so that they will live through it, they are fanatics believing in this like a religion! Only there is a grand army, there are grandmasters...and all Janice did was to be born. All Alexander did was to come to Sorschal..Vance, it is more than her hands. Put the pieces together. When she is deeply frustrated..as after the incident in Bryant Row...the things she spoke of in her sleep made no sense until now..things she possbily couldn't have known that I figured she had only been told before she went unconscious. She is *too* good at her tasks! She is trained in ancient languages. Her Uncle paid for the extenstion of her education at the convent - he arranged further lessons in plants, insisted on the continuation of her languages and studies, everything her mother feared would make her unmarriagable and no doubt get her killed....the same thing he feared ruined her, he could not let her go without. He was doing what her mother and father did not want, she could not kill anything, god knows but she is the daughter and niece of physicians, a retired apothecary, and apoison experts..she could put the plants together if she desired and recite their properties even if it is not extensive. Jacob was trying to give his niece a means to defend herself when he realized how far he'd gone. She speaks fluent Hebrew and Aramaic, two languages which are useful only in holy works and ancient observations..or things kept in them. The ceremonies and all such works around it are written in those two languages. It is more than an ideal memory that allows her to fetch with no trouble the things she does for us. While she was cloistered and obviously deeply so..the education she was afforded was different than the other cloister girls. Nuns do study ancient languages. Nuns do have traides..I think part of him hoped she may decide to become a novice nun...but he was trying to pass the lineage on through her. Vance, if we can not find out wha there mind has blacked out...than we will be missing very important pieces....but I fear what it will do to her. Alex knows, but we all should talk of it together, we are all the family she has. On this we can not lie to her, but she deserves for once to have a choice on how..maybe if..she wishes to be so pushed by any means." (d)

Vance:"Lady..." he stopped himself and frowned, painfully, tyring to struggling to maintain all of this. "This is insane. What kinda father puts the legacy of somethin' everybody's after into their own daughter? Huh? what kinda bastard signs her damned death warrant to some moldy old..." his voice raised without really thinking about it, rubbing his eyes briefly as he struggled to put it together. There was something terrible going on, no minding that, but the scope of it was terrible and monsterous. And worse yet, it sounded like she wanted to finish what they started! "This is absurd. She's a girl. You're talkin'a bout some ancient prophecy that... come on, she needs no part in that! We kill off this... Mannering and Krause bastard and we put an end to it, and that's that!" ironic, that it was very likely what Alex was trying to do--he probaby did not take the idea that it would not end with them very well at all. Suddenly, Alex's reasons became clearer--and admittedly, Vance finally accepted it, as ironic as it would be that it was now Claramae who was trying to undo it. strangely cowed, his hands fell to his side, lifeless and limp, and he looked away. "No... come on, no, there's gotta be somethin'. She doesn't need this... she's just a girl."

Claramae:"There ewere others, kills we'd made, places we infiltrated that were involved and we didn't know! It is utter madness, it is dark, and twisted, and terrible but if we do not finish this...than it will not be finished. With or without this fanatical, crazed business there is going to be a war. With or without it, they will be vying for her father's position and rank and God help us if they ascertain it..... She is just a girl, a beautiful, sweet girl on the verge of her womanhood. I do not think she has ever had a choice, Vance, and if anything she deserves to be given the complete truth. She is naieve, but she isn't stupid, and if she were ever to figure anything, she wouldn't forgive us. I would not forgive me, for knowing was I know!" she rose then, and walked over to the windows..."She isn't a pawn, she isn't a thing...but no matter what , she is the key to everything" There was no pleasure in that realization ---

Janice: Just as she took no pleasure in admitting of a sin. The soft wrap of a hand on the door and it's push revealed that though it were closed, it was not as closed as it ought be! "Lady, I could not stand here, and then later feign ignorant. I..one of the noviates showed me the illusion of the 'false closed door.' Forgive me please! I...had meant to close it, and I heard..I..it was terrible of me. I will be on my knees forever only in how I came to know..though..not what I know, though it isn't everything.." She bit into her lip softly, leaving Claramae for once abseloutely stunned.

Claramae: "Oh Janice..." (d)

Vance: Vance's response was a bit less stunned and more vaguely horrified, and more than a little angry, right up until he realized he had no right of it. Grimacing, he turned his head away, almost shamed about speaking of her in private. In fact, he seemed to have this fill of the matter entirely, glancing between the two and almost stalking out, plainly bitter about it, though he spoke acidly, on the off chance she didn't hear the entire conversation. "You know where I stand. Do what you will, but I'll have no part in this madness." clearly smarting at the forced responsibility for one who originally had one, he made to flee the room entirely and leave them to speak on the matter one on one, not for any lack of caring on his part, but for a simple refusal to put a burden on someone he thought too much of as a sister to be alright with such trouble, not when he so often remembered her as he did the woman burned by such similar religious madness and zeal. It would not be so simple to speak of something again. He was, also, quite possibly, going to beat the holy hell out of one of the Noviates for their imperitence.

Vance: "Vance, no please Vance do not leave! Vance!" A poor Noviate was going to be pulp because of her - because she had the want to learn even a little. Did nothing ever go as planned? Sighing heavily she looked at Claramae with a piteous look as if to say was it better not to know, to remain ignorant..to which Claramae shook her head gently and held her. :

Claramae:"I am so sorry, little one..forgive me."

Janice:Holding fast to Claramae as she learned the extent of their love first hand, that it inspired so much..she said ,"Do you think you can get Vance to come..with us, to Master Sorchal's study, or to call him here? It is not right to let him believe I do not know..and I have something I wish to say to you all. If it is not..too much trouble.."

Claramae:How could she ever be anything but sweet? Sighing, Claramae let the girl remain locked at her side as they walked from the study. "You are a brave girl, though you would make a terrible spy all at once. You are resourceful, but you are just too good my darling, too honest. But I am glad for it. There is enough deceit beyond our doors..and you are all that is bright for us." As they moved down the halls one wondered what inspired such closeness. Vance had stalked a good deal ahead of them, but not too far as to not be seen. --

Janice:"Please come.." She mouthed to him, unsteady and certain all at once. Wasn't youth just that way? (d)

Vance:Vance's initial reaction was to vent his frustration on somebody--anybody. He hadn't really known what noviate had taught her, and thus he couldn't exactly go beat the stuffing out of him for it. Still, he couldn't go so far as to ignore that face, and the expression, pained as it was enough to move him, and he struggled to control the rage plain on his face, hesitating for a moment before falling into step beside the two of them. He wouldn't speak--it was obvious that anything he would say would be biting at this point, and likely unnecessary, possibly even anamotically improbable.

Alendral:Sorschal was in his office as well, discussing something with Elizabeth, but the three of them looked severe enough to send her away with a wave of his hand, steepling his hands in front of him as he settled into his chair in the study. "Lady St. Laurence? Janice, Vance? Is there something I can do to help you?" he of course had no idea of the subject broached, and merely sought to address whatever mutual concern they had, though he was well prepared to wave away any curosory concern, as far as he thought.

Claramae:" There is something that .."

Janice:"No, Let me.."

Janice came forward, crossing path's with Elizabeth for the briefest second before the door was closed. If Vance could find the noviate that taught her such a blatant impropriety, he could blame nothing but time for the girl's confidence in step. No, it was not full, but it was not the same girl who would have cowered on hearing terrible news. Nor was she praying on her knees. Claramae merely clasped her hands infront of her skirts. Cursory concerns. Simplistic answers. Today, not even Claramae had those to pass on with platitude. It was hard to see her as more than a girl, but in truth she was a young lady who was no more soothed by childish things. "Master Sorschal, I told Master Laurence that I could not lie, so I shan't now. So I have to tell you, sir, that I learned a trick that allowed them -Master Laurence and Master Vance, think the door closed as she told him of some things..which I heard. So..I've come to tell you, I have to tell you...that I know now. I know, what Master Laurence went to England for, and what she found...not perhaps to the long way you do, but enough to know that more of my life is strange. And that it is causing you to grow sick. And Vance to grow worried. And Claramae to look pale. I just..I know." She leaned forward as she spoke, not using the desk between them, but actually coming around to it with a conduct that befit a lady of poise. Her words weren't smooth like theirs. Her pronunciation not as correct. But there was no mistaking her tone. "And I've come to tell you that..in the hopes that in my confessing that, you can be honest with me now...you...all can." She looked at them all "All of your secrets, and your walls with eyes, and the mirrors that see two ways. Libraries and lessons in being a lady, the noviates that are my friends. As sheltered as you keep me, you give me freedom that I have never had...you..are all the family that I have. So please..what I don't know..tell me..for it seems that there is somethings that I know..that..maybe with time, and your help...I will know why they've always haunted me so.." (d)

Alendral:It was Alex who would speak, who passed them each a look that, for all its neutrality, screamed. You let this slip without my permission on the subject. You are bringing her into something I had no desire to bring her into. and in Claramae's case--well, he knew better than for even the daughter of Vittergaust to so easily eavsedrop on Claramae, something he had singularly failed to do on even his best days. "Janice..." he said, letting it hang in the silence for a moment, before, in cool tones, he added. "First let me only tell you that I have kept no secrets from you that did not need to be kept, that would only bring more fears and horrors than a free girl your age should carry. I have deceived you, and as someone who claimed some kinship with you I apologize. As you have come to see me as family, I too have care for you, as my mentor's daughter, and as my own fathers. With that said... are you certain you wish to know this? Telling you this... will take away what innocence is left to you, and force you into a life your own father, only too late, realized he had no wish to impart on his daughter. Are you certain, Janice, are you absolutely certain that you do not wish to live life with the freedom of a woman born, and living, normally without the secrets our kind carry? I only ask you because I offer you that chance. I can wipe this all away and leave you... a normal life. Or I can tell you, and you may not have a chance at it then. Are... you... certain?"

[n]Janice[/b]: "Master Sorschal," she took his hands as she once had Jacob's. Perhaps this was why the strange became patterned in their image, the unusual became the norm, because for what lengths would they all go for they who were loved? "You musn't blame yourself terribly. I do know why things are done, and it is in the best interest of saving my life, and letting me be happy. That is why you do what you do at all, on some way, for everyone, even if they never know it." She gently settled on the edge of his desk, speaking wisdom in dulcet tones. There comes a time when we all grow up, when innocence of childhood turns to the world of adults. It is not as beautiful, nor as kind. It can be harsh and cold, but innocence then becomes a state of heart that the pious cleave to. "The innocence you are telling me about, as nice as it is..it..most of it, if not all of it is already gone. I know that I am hunted, I know who's daughter I am, and I know that both of the men I have called Papa were embroiled in things that left them scarred all of their days. I love you so much, you are like a brother to me. But...you can't wipe it all away.." She tilted her head gently, "No more than any of you can. There will always be someone else. Something else. And if there is some way that I can help to turn the course of my own path...I should not shirk at it, nor be remiss in a duty to my family. " She slid to her knees then for a moment, kissing his hands before standing up, gently coaxing him to come up out of his chair. "Come and tell me..tell us." (d)

Alendral: Alex remained silent, staring heavily for a time as if debating internally what she said. It was one thing to say, another to unleash what he had knowing what he did. In the end, it seems, her pleas were something of enough, and he spoke, as neutral and careful as ever, a sheer sign that what he did know disturbed him a great deal. "... The truth is your father was far more than a mere hand at the spy... your father was.. misguided. I am certaint that he meant well for you, but he was... like so many of us, consumed by some... goal, something to cleave to in the confusion, in the troubled times. Much as I once cleaved to the notion of loyalty above all else, much as the men who chase you cleave to some semblance of perfection, however twisted. In his case, Janice... that something was a legacy. A terrible thing. A secret order, who's own ambition matched its own... terrible... power. It's known as Levithan... and as the beast of legend, it slumbers, waiting for the chance to swallow whole all that it touches. " he hesitated, briefly. "You speak dead languages, do you not?"

Janice:"An Order like you have here there..only it must be must larger, from what you say of Papa he was a genius or some such. This power, this Leviathin is what they are seeking now? The Leviathin of the bible is a great, terrible monster. To call it such a terrible thing...it is no wonder to be afraid." She piece-mealed a few things from his tellings to what her mind knew, and found that she was terrified. But she wanted him to continue on. "Yes, sir. Hebrew, Aramic, Greek, and Latin, though they are only dead by usual standard..just not as common save beyond religious books or things that scholars might find interesting. I..was tutored privately at first by my mother, then in the convent it was merely one of the things I clung to, like books. I would help read and decipher things for the Reverand Mother so as not to bother the Friars in their work." (d)

Alendral:"You were taught in words important to the ritual... you see, the ritual is the thing." he sighed lightly again, not even entirely sure how to explain the complexities of it. "These.. these people... among them your father. Believe this all to be of great import. They have placed value in the.. timing of your birth, the.. circumstances. your upbringing. They have placed you at the head of something... " he shook his head, not even sure how to begin to explain such a thing. "You were taught the dead languages so you could speak the phrases needed to complete this work. You were taught things... things that may have seemed nonsensical, things that you didn't knew you needed to know--that you didn't even understand the context of.. words and phrases, to take your part as a key in it. You are... not the first. "He gestured. "Claramae was groomed to play a part in as well, that is my suspicision, or at least she was groomed to take some sort of action. Myself as well, though the nature of which... I'm not sure either of us know fully well yet. And yet still Vittergaust's own master, though he acquired a taste for it beyond that of our master's worst nightmares. "The order is larger than anything the world has yet seen, that it will ever see. Were it what they say--were it... really, to turn on us, the black order would be but a pebble placed to stop a flood... thuogh.. in that, fear not, for to believe it utterly united is a fallacy... for now."

Janice:"Your order has symbols...like a coat of arms. The black talons, and even the symbol of Master Laurence, the Roses..are they important?"

Claramae:"Yes. You are very astute. The Order of the Rose was the Order to which your father belonged, to which we were all inducted. Roses have also been a part of my family's crests for generations. It is an easy affiliation to announce yet conceal at the same time. There are many orders, with many masters but there are only a handful of grand masters it is said at any time, from the highest orders..of which there are four..of which your father was a Grandmaster..one of four known. Where some Master's have but one apprentice, your father in a sense had three. I had not yet finished all of my training when he told me to assist Sorchal. "

Janice:"Oh, I see now.." The young woman began to assume a look of concentration, resembling her father in a way that was almost eerie. "So then...the Leviathin that is raised...is this end I have heard, this terrible army and its master... and the ceremonies to make it come about are in ancient languages? It sounds so horribly pagan and dark, like a sacrif...oh.." She blanched, blinking as she realized the nature of that word and perhaps her place in it.."Oh dear." (d)

Alendral:"A sacrifice. Such is the nature of this dark secrecy, mired in superstition and foolishness. The men who seek it feverently believe with all their hearts. one need only ask Vance where such belief leads." Vance glowered, stung, but said nothing. Alex continued, tilting his head faintly. "But only when they have the secrets from you would you take your part. it is... from what I have learned, not a literal engine of destruction, but a plan, of which entire families have spent their lives prepairing for, without the knowledge as to what it might be. " He hesitated. "I believe your father.. and by extension, Vittergaust... came to realize what a terrible thing this beast was, and saw to unravel it. It would explain..." he hesitated. "Our current plight.. but the fact remains, were were to be prepared in such a way for the event to come. It's almost ironic--I only now understand, Gottschalk sent me to Vittergaust not as a mere test or traitor, but as a gift. A symbol that he was clever enough to find a part of this.. puzzl,e of sorts. " he chuckled, though he beheld no humor when he spoke. "And Vittergaust's legacy... you, you are the sign. They awaited you, and now the time has come and they're quick to see this work finished. That is what we hide you from, that is what I have worked hard to unravel.. but there is one flaw. We know not what it is they seek from you. I know not what I am protecting you from. " he sighed. "What Vance and Claramae were ... doubtless, discussing, Janice.. was whether or not we should ask this of you. Your father taught you... something. Some secrets. If we were to know them... it is entirely possible we could unravel the entire legacy. With but one piece out of place, the entire plan goes for naught, such is the weight they place on this legacy. but I don't know what, Janice, and given an option."

Janice:"Master Sorschal --" Half in shock that such terrible, dark heathen things propelled around the use of God's holy languages, in as much that he brought up poor Vance's turn with religious zealots. She knew how much it pained him! The poor man had held her as he sobbed for a lost sister, striving that she ought not meet the same plight. Looking to Vance for a long, long time, then to Claramae, back to Sorschal. "Poor, poor my family. My father, my uncle, my mother....this is why they died. Poor Mama. She was so afraid, so terribly afraid of all temptation..she was afraid of the world." She shook her head as she shut her eyes. So. "This is why..I am so different," Not as other girls, no, not in the least. But you hide what is most uncommon in the usual of places. To hide in plain sight. That much she had learned of their trade. "I...I..know there are things that my mind won't recall..I think after my uncle," that was the first time she called him that, "realized I had noticed his work...and he sent me away..it..began to unravel. I have always had a dream of a kind man with a good voice telling me something..but I can't ...ever recall it. Now if I do not all is lost." She looked up as if finding resolve in heaven.."Show me something that you can't read, please? What is in practice may put a little light.."

Claramae:"Are you sure...."

Janice:"Yes."

Janice puzzled at why Claramae turned about, but it was in general privacy that she lay pieces of information about her person, let alone all else. She did not walk about her home as an arsenal of death, but a walking drove as she pulled out a folio from under her sleeve she kept with her to work on.

Claramae:"I was little less than your age when I came across a portion of what he had me copy that I could not read, and find a hard time to this day...


Janice: Claramae watched as the progency handled a creation of the father. Odd, stinging electricity shot through her veins as if to paralyze her in place. It'd been unlocked for her, and she'd been given Claramae's necklace to use as a place marker, given it's natural points. At the end of the book was an impressed plate into the leather binding, written in Hebrew. He had taken her for what ashe knew, which was Greek, Latin, and Romantic languages. Dead languages allowed him keep some secrets, some touch with his heritage. This is what she read aloud:

My beloved ones, like my children, my legacy falleth on you. God protect you in his infinite mercy, grant you wisdom, grant you strength, grant you always have this:

My rose is of the Rose, and she is perfectly made. In all of her thorns and colors, as is the other who blooms in strange places. My first had gone wrong, withered by madness and vice. He had bid me take you, but you were nothing to him, but everything to me. I took another, one given his charge, and found a brother for my daughter. I twine them as they are twined to me ...

I, Elusha ben Issac, brother of Jacob ben Issac, do call up my heir to be known in my absence. They stand not alone. As I knew her first, she shall be as my first, and he shall be as my other..there have, to my knowledge, been no women who have ever ascended to such heights, nor two at once..So to her, and thus if she desires it, to them both...

"Forgive me...I repeat things it.is faded..there is more....here....

"The Rose's Lady Grandmaster...and..Lord Grandmaster, should she ascend to that place. Which one day may call her to do so, God bless it. God bless this place. "

Was this why they had listened so easily in England? Had Vittergaust really gone so far to secure her legacy, and then in taking on Alendral, his own as well? "Claramae.....Claramae.." Informality left as quickly as the color in Claramae's face, and one day say it began to drain even out of her eyes. He'd left the way for not one, but Two grandmasters --

Claramae:If the others knew this and probably did, it was no wonder why the mark on them seemed to increase..so then the risen Army under the rose banner would heed Sorschal with the same blinding belief they followed Claramae...not because of Vittergaust's affiliation, but because he had set them upon a pedastool. "...." She put a hand on the wall to stay aloft...and said utterly nothing (d)


Alendral: Alex's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, and Vance wwas merely moritifed. The irony was the words meant that Alexander, or Alendral was the second. Elusha's original plan, such as it was, was to pair her to Gottschalk, and he found a pang of bitterness he was not expecting. Worse, still, what he saw as plainly terrible, it was obvious--that, for a time, Elusha revered. He felt utterly, physically ill, but he did not betray an aspect of it. "...I will leave you the rest of it, to study and decipher. In return, you will report them back to me. You will speak nothing of this. To anyone not of this order. Especially should you should not trust them. Especially, under no circumstance, are you to talk to Nathan about any of this. " it was perhaps the subtle sign that Alex had slipped. Vance shot him a look that very plainly told him to be silent, and Alex shot him a wary look. Nobody had, of course told her, the signfigance of the Renquest boy. "Nor Bromheilde. nor anyone. In reading this, the knowledge you may have hidden may come to light. If that is what you wish, I will allow it. but it stays with you, Janice, make that promise to me. "

Janice:"This looks old..is it old, Master Laurence? Did he write it...before you he met .." Questions were met with commands on whom not to speak with , what not to do in exchange for this information that made her no longer innocent. Despite his place to tell her so, Janice showed for once a mild look of offense as if he'd insulted her intelligence. Why would she tell anyone this? And besides. Bromheilde was already a master at something in her own right no? She feigned ignorance of English so well that no doubt she had all the same pieces in her head even if she couldn't put them together. Calmly, she settled the pieces on the table and actually walked away with no answer. Why would she do such at thing? Naieve - perhaps - Ignorant? Only in what was kept from her. But not so stupid as to endanger lives. Little did poor Nathan know he'd already been pegged for a few things merely by association. Maybe he'd been doomed the second he'd set eyes on Nairne. As it were, anger was not something she was accustomed to and thus was going to pray about it. Before merely standing not far off until Claramae recovered herself enough to actually bid her go, given some sense of formality was holding the girl put. Though Claramae was beside herself as she plucked up the book to pitch into the small study fire that kept away the draft in old buildings like this. All of the writings were copied, in fact if anything they had an over-abundane, and she found herself like Alendral terribly angry with the dead. How long had Gottschalk been with Vittergaust before he'd found Claramae. What on earth made him think it would have even gone so - knowing that Claramae would have slit his throat for half of what she deemed him mad for..she had never looked on him as any less than an infection on her master's conscience. With the same devotion he loved Claramae and the same that bid him love Alendral, it was the same that would not give up on Gottschalk until his madness was visible to themall, and by then it'd been too late. Now it was there turn to feel as Janice, no? To feel the past glare up in their faces...poor Sorschal. She felt so terrible for him...even if the score had changed, even if he had amended his error, it did not change what once had been..that had Gottschalk not proven himself mad enough for Vittergaust...

Claramae:"I am sorry, Alexander.." she murmured, haphazrdly holding the rose charm as she went to force ingest old information. If this were her linguistic short coming, it would no longer be a shortcoming. Her leg's stiffness became do impart to the length of immobility, but she had hardly a care a the moment with the visibility of how it looked even to Vance. The sickening realization of why England listened so easily in the old places..and why she'd been carved into..and of Vittergaust's belief that Gottschalk was not what he was...that he loved him as any of them was just too infuriating. That she thought him a match with her? No. She wrapped an arm about her middle and leaned her back against the wall. Now it was all too clear why Gottschalk killed him..and his unearthly obsseions with either of them. (d)


Alendral: "It means nothing." was all Alexander said, harsh and cold as an attempt to quiet any sympathy sent his way. It did not matter what Vittergaust believed in this mad legacy, what Gottschalk meant. it only matttered that it had to end, and that was the lot of it. He made no attempt to try and force Janice back, nor to apologize--it was simply something he said, if anything a testament to how innocent he thought of her in all this. Vance merely glanced between the two and muttered something, moving off to go and smooth things over on his behalf, such was his way of things. He himself knew the reason, to say nothing of understanding of what troubled Alexander so much as to treat her as a wayward novice. in their silence, he only stared at Claramae, his emotions completely hidden, literally impassive--terrible then, that his expression in some ways resembled that of his old master as well, in ways he would have never acknowledged--or have been able to live with, should he think about it flong enough.

Claramae: It mean nothing - Claramae looked beyond to see the layers, sub-text in three words. Puzzles, cyphers, clues. Was this not a legacy in and of itself? Illusions, traps. Things leading to alleged nothing holding everything. Indeed, whatever had been done this had to be stopped before it consumed everything in its wake. It had to be stopped because no one could take much more of being driven this way. But at worst? It meant that apology, emotion. Meant nothing. What was perfect had been blemished. Gods were proven flawed men - and Vittergaust had belief that Gottschalk could change to the point of still wishing to bequeath Claramae with a wish it would have been terrible to ignore. Alendral was not second to her, but her equal. Knowing in the end what Elusha knew still did not take the blight away from however long in the beginning they had all come to be, that he had forgotten to amend so important a wish. No one can fix time. The face she looked on began to seep into her eyelids, rock them back as she had to strive to see the one she loved and not a bygone terror. He looked just that hard and sounded that cold. Begging her so long to reveal humanity now his own was in peril. Straightening herself upright, she all but turned her eyes back on him. Don't you dare begin to look or speak that way......don't you dare claim it all does not matter.... He was steeling himself, and she was merely quiet. One could not be any more exposed or crooked..."Remember that I love you. We all do." She uttered before walking back across the room toward the door. "You can not go on this way. It will kill you long before anything else does. We can not go on this way..or we will all be dead by the time they come for anything. " (d) [/color]

[Janice Olivia Monroe]

-- Herein, the introduction of new players to an old game, the doings of Miss Janice and her maid, Carlotta. --

(Originally posted in Fires Burning)

To mention is to bring attention to a bit of fact that also deserves to mention. While the home itself was plain from the outside, inside, it served as an elegant fortress. It seemed that while parties concerned were busy hunting the ghouls of nightmares, they did not think to contend with an elemental one such as this.


The Laurence House sat comfortable on top of decorum before the downward trip into infamy. It was a quiet time on the streets where the stone houses were neither boisterous nor too plain. Just as it ought to be, or was. In the silence of the torch-tipped blackness was a strange light eminating in the joinings of the street. Where it gave way to dirt, that too was not without an oddity: heat. While indeed the sounds of scramble scuttled up the road, no houses burned on this street. It was not what was on top to prove the problem...

but below

The house expanded to indeed take up a house and a half's worth of old architecture on the street, and took its principle into the womb of the city. The under-dark, to the household, became a passageway to any number of locations. The same could be said of the upper stones. Below the obvious were training halls, secret rooms, things that connected to other pieces of the great secret. If one was exposed, the entirity risked exposure.

Irony took the first steps that night in how the shadows shifted below with persons who saw nothing. It wasn't until the smell of smoke became promiment that the figures indeed figured what was approaching. Unfortunately, the under-dark if anything, is at want for breezes. They choked on the gathering smoke and stench of sickness, ingesting their own stomach contents before their eyes were stung shut. On cat-quiet feet the smoke was creeping over their bodies, leaping off to lick the base of moss ridden stones with an orange glow for a tail. If the guard had been smote out by the fire, who then would warn of danger?

No stranger herald could be found than the cloaked figure with an armful of books and her companion, a woman of stout figure who's arms were full of materials. Looking left and right, they crossed not a street, but the foundations heading toward a set of doors not far behind the last foundation lay of Ebony Hall. "Come on, Carlotta," the smaller woman said to her fellow, The Rabbi is waiting..". Carlotta said nothing as she stepped over a puddle of ancient water, muttering, "This is no business for a young lady, and worse yet..did not Master Sorchal tell you involve no one else in your doings? What if he is consorting with the enemy, what if.." The woman huffed, seeing the pair of eyes that made her surrender opinion. Fluid like the water, holding all matter of emotion and resolve to sort each one. "You will not talk of the Reb in that matter, Miss Carlotta! Heaven knows, we are blessed to have him. Without him I will never finish the last lines, and besides...you know how he felt in regards to our presence." In that, Carlotta could broker no argument. The moment he saw Janice, it was if he knew who she was. He told her what neither Alendral and Claramae could, and what Vance would never know. He told her of her father's life as a man of the Old Testament, and of her mother's conversion. It was him who had cried most when his wife said that it was better for Vittergaust to live as a man of Christ, and for his daughter to be that way. Danielle had risked much to convert, and the secret lay inside of her only child. It was him who told her of her uncle's devices as well as of his greater accomplishments. Lastly, it was he whom was the only person beyond blood or apprentice that new of the Masterwork, and Janice had strived to find him all on her own for the express purpose.

Their lives lay in each others hands, and more lay in Sorchal's if he ever found out before they were finished. Tonight, they would not have time to even read a single page or make a single note. She had barely crossed the threshold of the door the Rabbi's wife held open before the man came crying through the small room of their dwelling. "There is a fire, and it has consumed much of the Labyrinth! It is coming this way, quick, we must flee!" The women three looked between one another. Carlotta nearly dropped the books in her arms before the Rabbi's wife, Deborah, thrust her hands on them and shook her head no. No? Carlotta was about to broker now text was not more important than their lives when she noticed Janice had caught the fever of preservation. Her books and the girl's were thrust into satchels. Notes from the Rabbi's private study were wrapped in cloths, while his wife began to fetch their precious Torah. Some things could never be replaced while others could not be lost.

"Carlotta, help me, these books, here. That box, there! We can risk nothing being burned or discovered! Please!" She took her companion, her friend, by the shoulders and shook her hard, " The Under-dark is burning. Do you see! Surely something will be dregged up. They have been hunting hard.. The woman said nothing more. Indeed, she'd said not many sentences at all, but sometimes words are paltry things. She knew the business of the household as well as the next head servant. With that in mind, she began to grab every book in sight that she could concievably carry.

"We can take the paths that will go to the ladders, there, up to the street. I do not think it safe to stay below. Not enough air to breathe down here." Deborah had prepared in such a rush that for the first time since their wedding, he saw her hair uncovered. A feeling of immodesty was dwarfed by the need to survive. Against the ketubah covered wall,the glow was already beginning to prove stronger than the cooking fire. Deborah bit into her lip, "We need to go. More for you, than for us child. Come, come."

The party of once two women now became three women and one man. One woman was maid, the other, a young, and the last, neither young nor old. Jewish was as good a way to describe her as any. Far more resiliant than any could devise. What her husband deemed too harsh for the girl's ears, Deborah told. Of the pograms, rapes, hangings, and injustices against the people of the book. She thought it odd any would worshipped the Hanging One, but did not discredit her husband's Gentile friends among the clergy. It was they who smuggled them from place to place, helping to follow the path. It was the secret channels where faith mattered little and skill mattered more, that led them to Janice in so much as it led her to them.

Between the people here and the contents they carried, all of the work that her benefactors had done hinged. Now they were fleeing from fire, both literal and in the metaphoric. The Rabbi had gone away to fetch his walking stick when a cry of suprise echoed from an ajoining room. All of them turned to see, finding that he was using the stick to fend away an adversary. "Run, run now! Take them Deborah to the ladders!" Deborah grabbed Carlotta, who in turn sought to grab Janice. Instead, air permeated her empty fingertips as the door became closer and Janice, farther.

"Janice! Janice!" she shrieked, Deborah pulling on the maid, though calling back in the same horrified tones. Just as she could not leave the texts to the flames, nor could she let the Rabbi to a hell incarnate. How did she find the strength to wrestle the stick from his hands, and swing it down over the adversary's back, his head? Fear had a strange taste when it turned to anger's border. Bile laced honey became her spittle as she swallowed it. Her voice came out in a ragged assortment of French fused Hebrew as she beat at him blindly, causing the skull to issue forth a crack she would have deemed absurdly loud, had she been in her right thoughts. It was the fear of not wishing to see another die for her sake, not wanting to lose another she had come to love.

Claramae and Alendral had so much to do, and Vance was stuck between their commandments. Such tired eyes they wore, such burdens. Their voices were mute and her world had dimmed without their guidance, worry, or praise.

Neither fire nor Gottschalkian adversary would take the Rabbi from her. The fire lept in the opening, licking at the heels of the dead man as Janice now dropped the stick. What had she done? Thou shalt not kill

Some commandments must be forgotten if one is to live in moments of peril. This is why there is act of confession.

"Miriam, Miriam!"

He called her by her Hebrew name, and she was so startled when she looked up to him, she could have forgotten that and Janice forever. He shook her. He was free, and she had saved him. Now they both must save themselves. It wasn't long before they met the others in the winding passages that led to the ladders secrecy conspired for moving up and down. It would be at these ladders for the first time in the four months that found Janice in the Rabbi's company a guard had been placed there, and a guard called. "Lady Viscreed, what in God's name.."

"Nevermind it now," her voice was not submissive, but direct! "There is a fire spreading in the under-dark, you have to go back and tell those at the bottom of Ebony Hall, lest the foundations are scorched!"

Therein, the protected of Ebony Hall became the voice that may have saved it.