After a twenty minute long ride in a relatively comfortable carriage, Bjorn and Phil find themselves at the Gate complex. Which is to say, the structure of walls that surround the Gates. The walls are about eight meters high, and stone, and it's otherwise a square looking structure, with the Gate presumably in the middle. Some tesla coils and other antennae looking devices poke up over the ramparts, arcing crackling electrical energy back and forth between various of them in no particular pattern.
The carriage stops about twenty meters away, and the road to the Gate complex's gates (and recursion is a theme, here) is attended by four stiffly attentive guards, and another pair sitting in a tiny guard-booth inset into the wall aside the Gate's gate. They all salute crisply at the sight of the royal carriage.
"So, anyway, don't ask me," Bjorn informs Phil casually. "Go do yer shit."
"What, don't want to see?" Philip shrugged, heading out of the carriage and towards the guards.
"Good day, we have been permitted by the king to examine the gates," He politely informed the guards, heading to pass the guard booth towards the gate proper.
Bjorn tags along behind Philip, because hey, if you're going to take freaky spirit-hallucinating drugs, you might as well take a trip.
The guards salute stiffly at the sight of the shiny pocket-watches, and the gate opens up, revealing a short, dark passageway before another gate. It, too opens, just a little bit behind the outer gates. Within, a hunchbacked figure with a cane limps forward in an awkward hustle, panting, "Apologies, apologies, was not informed of guests."
Once Phil and Bjorn are through the inner gate, they find themselves surrounded by mysterious crackling equipment, and within that, another walled off section -- this one has an archway instead of a proper 'gate', and through it a courtyard is visible. Within the courtyard, faced by two giant, shiny, lens-covered ... well, they're probably weapons of some sort. Super-laser cannons of some sort, directed squarely at the Gate.
And Gate it is; a giant archway, just like the one depicted on the absent Quincy's robes, or Phil's spare holy-book. The thing is probably about two and a half meters high, and a meter and a half to two wide. It's arched stone, and currently has no visible opening -- more like a doorway just standing in the middle of this cleared courtyard than anything else. One side is white, the other black.
Once eyes adjust to the light, the hunchbacked figure is a middle-aged man, his spine bent nearly in half, his right shoulder significantly higher than the other. His face looks like it belongs on a statesman, not a disfigured creature such as himself, though he looks to have missed shaving the last few days. "I am Sark, custodian of the gate facility. The Gate technicians are in the labs beyond; you wish to speak to them?"
On the opposite side of the court-yard is a small house-like structure, windows facing the Gate itself (though, on edge; the weapons face the actual openings).
"Indeed," Bjorn replies to Sark.
"This way, then, Masters," he says, ducking his head and limping on a long path that goes around the imposing Gate, and the idle cannons directed at them. In passing, the Gates are not open, and look rather like solid stone. There's undoubtedly a trick to it, but for the moment it appears inert.
Once the cottage/barracks is reached, Sark raps on the door. "It should be just a moment," he assures his guests. "Is there anything you will require?"
"Not at the moment, thank you, Sark," Dracos replied politely, looking over the gates from the distance and seeing if there were any symbols or things of meaning on them to him, anything that his book had referenced.
Other than color (from one side, the gates are white, from the other, black), they are wholly unremarkable. Oddly, from up close, there's no definitive line where the gate changes colors, more like it seems to change as a whole depending on which angle it's viewed from. One face of the gate is directed spinwise, and the other is antispinwise.
While Phil is searching for deeper meaning in the rock, the cottage door opens, and a trio of young men in jumpsuits and smocks spill out. The apparent leader, a slightly older, sandy-haired man who's just tall and thin enough to look terribly awkward (in fact, he nearly trips over his own feet in his haste to rush to Phil's side), calls out, "Er, sorry for the delay, good sirs; can I be of assistance for you?"
"Yes, you are the technicians of the gates? Are you also their researchers?" He looked over the trio, considering them as he turned his attention away from the gates proper.
"That's right," the tall one says, nodding quickly. "Well, apprentice Gate Technicians, anyway. I'm Maximilian, as it happens. The masters themselves have been called to attend a session of the Council. Their testimony was required for something." He looks apologetic. "Is there anything I, er, we can help you with?"
"A pity, I was hoping to talk with them. I'd like to see their research on the gates, Maximilian," Dracos asked, saving the fancy comments for later.
Spotting Phil's pocket watch, Maximilian swallows uneasily. "I.... We could answer your questions, maybe? They.... They shouldn't be away long."
"Well then, I'd like to read over their research and hear about the current experiments that are being performed here," He figured that the apprentices could do that at least. He had tons of questions, but there was no need to be overeager about asking them.
Bjorn follows Phil as the underlings gladly show him into the dormitory. The cottage has two sections, one which is a hall/barracks for the junior engineers, and then private room/offices for the presumed seniors. The walls of every room are walled with bookshelves, crammed with hand-bound hand-written books.
Generally, Phil finds an awfully small amount has been written in any given book, and most of what is written covers a lot of the same information. But essentially, the Gates are activated through touching a series of glyphs around each face of the door to open them. It takes 25 different symbols to complete a sequence, and every sequence must contain that same number of glpyhs to open. Thinking back, Phil doesn't remember seeing any of the glyphs on the generally unadorned looking stone -- so they must be very fine, or very small. The books list about a thousand of them, too. Some few are known reasonably well, as far as determining what _kinds_ of effects they will have on people who go through them.
It also appears that the Anabaran equivalent of a lab rat is an alley-cat. Furthermore, many glyphs that will change people have no obvious effect on cats. References are made to files in a college in town somewhere, and likely any more dangerous information would be kept there. Ultimately, Phil determines that opening a Gate requires some complex password to make it through unscathed, and no one's figured out what it is, yet.
The dark and light sides are the Regression and Progression Gates, respectively, and there are two known 'final' glpyhs. One only opens within Anabara, and one opens to (from this facility) Windhurst ... but some price must be paid to go through, either way.
By the time Phil has finished this study, reinforced by the nervous mumbling of the junior Gate technicians, an hour or so has passed, and the distant sounds from across the courtyard suggest the return of the Masters.
Dracos eyed Bjorn, closing the books at the incoming sound. "I suppose that is your masters returning?"
OOC: Shifting to presence, diplomacy and all that.
"Y...yes," Maximilian manages, glancing across the yard with the Gate nervously as six men in nearly identical dress emerge from the checkpoint, approaching the yard and babbling to themselves in irritable tones. They seem oblivious to any other presence aside from their own. They have dark suits, with vests, inferior pocketwatches, and stovepipe hats.
All of the men are the same height, and approximate build (very, very round), with one exception. He would be taller, and thin to the point of appearing emaciated, but he's stooped nearly in half and uses a cane; none of the others seem to need walking sticks.
Maximilian and the other apprentices wait quietly by the door to their dormitory as the Gate technicians approach. The thin one casts an annoyed glance at the apprentices, pausing to blink slowly and narrow his eyes at Bjorn and Phil. "Guests?" he asks dryly, causing the babble to instantly cease. His eyes flick to the pocket watch, and he blinks again. "From that know-it-all blaggart, I would expect. Well, get on with it, then. What business do you have here?"
"Blaggart?" He shook his head. "We are examining the progress on your research," He pondered briefly opening hostile demands...but decided to give it a moment. "I trust that you have time to elaborate on your current studies."
He switched instantly to mind reading, listening in to the man's answer.
OOC: Switching to telepathy six dice and YOUR MIND IS MINE...Or your going to be very obvious as am I...and I think I have more aces. Bluff on!
Phil's initial probing with his mind powers reveals only the surface thoughts of the man he is interrogating -- and for the most part, he's not hiding anything. He's annoyed, thinks his time is being wasted, and doesn't know who Phil is, but thinks that the envoy of the Inspector is just trying to stir up trouble for some foolish reason.
"Elaborate?" he asks, a scant thought becoming clear to Phil, diagrams, charts, rows of formulae with the information he's gone over in the books occasionally hinting at what they might be for. "Oh, I'm sure that there's nothing better to be done with my time. Let's get this nonsense over with." He nods curtly to the other gate technicians, dropping his voice slightly to say, "I'll be in shortly." In his mind, he expects to be done with Phil in a matter of seconds.
"What is it you think you need to know?"
"Well, I think you need to tell me the current state of the art with your work on the gates, and be thorough and I'll be done here to leave you to your research all the swifter," Sensing a man with more pride than sense, he gave the man at least a slight excuse to talk, even as he was scanning for the real story.
"The state of my work?" the man says, puffing up self-importantly. "My work is what will draw Anabara from the dark age we risk falling back into." Filtering through his layers of surface thought, Phil is able to pick a few details out here and there -- the man's mind is full, and it's difficult to delve deep into it without more time. Beyond the surface, Phil is able to tell that the man knows an awful lot about the Gates, including some details which he has not shared with the other Gate technicians there.
"It is through these Gates, once we know the secrets of their workings, that we shall expand the Anabaran empire." Phil isn't able to get to those details immediately, but he can recognize that there are thought that this guy shields away, hiding from his general flow of consciousness to keep them from slipping out in discussions with the other Gate masters (who he thinks of as idiots, but less idiotic than every other non-him entity in the world). Given what Phil has managed to glean from the books and study so far, it's reasonable to guess that the senior Gate technician either knows how to use the Gates without using the unpredictable regression/progression complications, or another way to bypass the Gates entirely. But it's a certainty that he's not going to share it easily. "They work simply. One inputs the traits one exemplifies or wishes to minimize, once one understands the various formulae of the Gate function, activates the Gate, and sends a subject through it. Our current goal is to discover a means to use the Gates without invoking any formulae on ourselves or our devices; we know such a method exists, as the bi-monthly envoys from the Church demonstrate when they arrive. It is only a matter of time before we understand it."
He raises an eyebrow. "Is there anything else, then?"
"That is...somewhat disappointing. I was certain you were an actual scientist rather than the bludgeoning students. You had that kind of bearing, that of a man truly into his work, and I'd believed Anabarians had managed to overcome the base savage level of understanding. I suppose I misread... so who's the person who has actually been doing the science? Was it one of those ninnies following you? Can't be they didn't look intelligent enough," Dracos played off the man's ego and pride, expecting that if he didn't outright say it, it'd come right to the front of his mind.
The man blinks several times, as though he has trouble believing what he's heard. His thoughts aren't, unfortunately, about whatever secrets he's been keeping, but how infuriated he is by some mook storming into his workshop to try and stir up trouble. Some servant of the weak and grasping King to try to keep a hold on their fragile power-base-- That thought is quickly wiped away by a curtain of rigidly ordered control.
The senior Gate technician is trembling with barely restrained anger, and he says, "I see that we are done here. Guards! Show the investigators out!"
From the gateway, a confused guard pokes his head out, though after glancing between the technician and the guys with the pocket-watches, he looks reluctant to actually do anything.
"If we are, then it'd be very unfortunate. It verifies the other reports about your work...and your loyalties. Guards, stand down. The technician is in no danger, and any action taken against us is as an action against the king," He replied firmly, not even looking at the guards while he did so, his eyes staring into the man. "I believe you have more to tell me, Humphrey Gladstone."
Deciding that discretion is the better part of valor, and the less involved his is, the better ... the guard melts back into the entryway, vanishing from sight. "And I believe that we are done!" he counters, almost snarling. "You can take your thuggish antics elsewhere; here, important work is being done to save the kingdom."
"Would that be the army of thugs that was being purchased using transmission through this gate or some of the other work done here to depose the current king? He was hoping that you change your ways and truly bring your talents to forefront of Anabara's progress. But I see that you're intent on playing the fool," He sighed slightly, knowing the fellow is too angry to take the offer, but at the same time listening to his thoughts, intending to dig through to his gate research if the man was confused and scan any thoughts on folks that could've betrayed him if not.
A single frantic thought is clear to Phil before Humphrey somehow manages to shield his mind, glowering furiously at the priest from another land. That thought is a name ... someone named 'Hathoway'. "I take offense at your claims, Sir!" he says, indignantly. "Complaint will be filed with your superiors and you will be brought before the Council! Now be gone from my sight, you dog of the Inspector!"
"You seem to assume I have superiors to take offense. I find this amusing. You seem to also assume everyone Hathoway has dealt with actually was dealt with," He smiled. "Let us cut to the chase. I came here because I was thoroughly aware of your leanings. This entire conversation has been laid with opportunities to demonstrate differently. While it would be preferred to keep you alive as a tamed scientist for the king helping create a new golden era, traitors must be dealt with," Dracos eyed across at Bjorn before pinning the man with a harsh stare, stepping near, ready to grab him if needed.
OOC: Assuming based on physical description that I should have no issue restraining/outmoving if necessary. If he moves surprisingly quick, can I borrow my dex for a react? Until then, brainscanning as deeply as possible on this. If I can push it, push it.
Humphrey is rattled at this point. "W...what do you want?" he finally squeaks out. "Who sent you?"
His mind is a turmoil of fear and anger; he doesn't know what's going on, beyond the fact that he's being threatened by people who know more about him than he knows about them.
"Now, then," Bjorn speaks. "There's no need for these harsh words. I'm sure, Phillip, that you've misread the situation. After all, even if Dr. Gladstone was in fact not loyal to his King, to openly declare defiance against agents of the Inspectors would be tantamount to declaration of open rebellion, not only on his part, but why, for all his superiors as well! Such a serious action, taken when the King has just proven his Spark? Oh, no, this I cannot imagine.
"So, then, Dr. Gladstone. Let us return to the matter at hand, shall we? You know things about the Gate. More, in fact, than you have said. Share this knowledge with us! Is that not the heart of science, to learn and to share? Let us be friends, Dr. Gladstone. Tell us what you know."
OOC: Using Influence to bring over Nightmare Presence (+20 PRE).
Bjorn throws them bones: for MIND CRUSH --> 40
Humphrey works his jaw for a minute, and then finally spits out, "You'll understand that it's not my fault? I was put up to this -- I'll give you the one you want. Your report will only contain the guilty ... friend?"
"Dr. Gladstone," Bjorn replies gravely, "if the truth is revealed, and all goes as it should, then there is never any need for blame. What use are names then? You may rest assured."
"Most of them are kept secret from me for just this type of situation; I've suspicions of a few, but absolute knowledge of only one. The only important one, in my mind," he says hurriedly, glancing at the barracks, and dropping his voice. "Master Flint Jennings was given a device of my own creation ... it allows one to bypass the Gates."
In Phil's mind, the details suddenly come together; the master Gate technician has no idea what the 'safe' or 'correct' way to use the Gates without risk of change. He instead made something that would allow the user of the device to move between different points in space. From what he can grasp, the device requires beacons to home in on, but otherwise, can send the user virtually anywhere. It does have the side-effect of making a loud enough noise to shatter windows for nearly a mile in any direction, though.
He swallows. "The Inspector will know more; if I delay here any longer my associates will wonder why."
"Well then, we will not hold you. Go on, then. Tell them you were useless to us. Reassure them that all is happy and all is well. And we will not dispute this, because you will leave us a copy of the device, yes? And so we will be enraptured by study, by examining your wisdom, your creation, your -- dare I say it? -- your spark, that we will be in no position to argue."
He lips press into a flat line. "It will take three days to complete," he says, turning to march back into the barracks. "I'll have it sent to you when it is complete."
OOC: So I maximized suckatude and rolled bloody month on my response time check. I blame comfort. Someone needs to start more fires around me.
IC:
A glance and a quick ~Nicely done. He doesn't actually know how the gates work and we can be certain though that it can and is what is used to travel between this sphere and the previous one. We can also be certain that Flint Jennings is a traitor working to gather an army who we should immediately arrange the apprehending of. Possibly right now.~
"Always good to see how the edge of science is developing," Dracos commented as he lead the way back out of the gates area.
The coachman is standing by the carriage when Phil and Bjorn leave the compound, and the guards quickly snap to attention, realizing that company is around. Nodding at the pair, the coachman asks, "Where to, Inspectors?"
"Let us ride to the castle. Tell us about Flint Jennings and where he might be found, if you would along the way," He asked, sitting in the coach and opening a window so they could hear the coachman as they rode.
OOC: Figuring this would give us relatively unspyable conversation and hopefully a generic 'who is this person' to the common citizen. Intent is to make sure the king's uncle is aware of the capabilities of their opponents and go track Jennings down with the correct amount of manpower ("He has a private army you say?") ("Just some noble?")
"Lord Jennings?" the coachman asks, a bit surprised, as the carriage bounces down the cobblestone road. "He's a, um, composer, conductor.... A patron of the arts and a member of the Greater Council. I believe he was awarded titles by His Majesty's father, and would have been Steward, if not for the King. Did you wish to see him? I believe we could make his estate in an hour, at this time of day."
"Indeed, I would much like to meet with someone of such calibur, but first to the castle, and then we shall be off to his estate."
"Very good, Sir Inspector!" the coachman replies cheerfully, driving back to the palace.
Shortly, Phil and Bjorn find themselves at the stables, the entrance for the palace standing nearby. The area is filled with coachmen and stablehands tending to horses and carriages; one corner of the yard houses a smithy, where a smith and his two apprentices work on horseshoes.
Dracos heads in with barely a glance towards the proceedings, looking for either a convenient go-get-the-important-people servant...or the king's uncle himself.
Aliester is not conveniently standing around in the stable-house entryway, but a likely looking page sitting by the doorway on an overturned bucket seems to be unocupied. He's currently chewing on a biscuit and gazing rather dreamily at a serving-girl as she brings the smithy and his apprentices a meal -- or maybe it's tea-time, and these folk are excessively civilized. Either way, he doesn't look terribly busy.
"You there, boy. I need to speak with Aliester. Quickly now, go find him," Dracos wasted no time.
"If you would, please," Bjorn adds. "Pardon my friend, the Church lacks manners and sophistication, and the brutal semi-savagery of his apish upbringing sometimes shines through."
After the boy runs off, Bjorn turns to Philip. "So," he asks conversationally, "what do you think? Straight for Jennings, or try and trace the connections around him first?"
"I think our biggest advantage is that they expect us to play their game. That we would go through networks and the flow of nobility. While Jennings is probably not the mastermind, having him out would likely ruin any plans of revolt in the short term due to a lack of suitable personage to stick on the throne. The more we wait, the more they begin to understand us. So let's simply see what Aliester knows of his allies and go directly for Jennings."
Bjorn snorts. "I don't understand me, so best of luck to them. Having said that, I'm with you. Let's beat Jennings til answers pop out."
The timid young page (he's got to be twelve, at most), scurries back shortly after vanishing. "This way, Masters," he says, his voice cracking as he leads the would-be priest and swarthy (yet miniscule) savage to Maester Sondheim's quarters. Aliester's room is less impressive than the King's Workshop, but not by much. The door is open as the page shows the way to it, allowing Bjorn and Phil to see in long before the Anabarist is visible himself.
The area is actually set up much like the King's workshop, with tables everywhere, festooned with small mechanical looking gadgets, arrays of humming crystals, precious metals and jewels being assembled into who-knows-what, and on one giant, hall-spanning bench, a clockwork miniature world, a ten meter wide disk that has working city streets with wagons, a palace in the center with automated royalty that step out onto the bannisers of their tiny palace to salute the people.... The intricacies of this are amazing, and even though it appears to be working, it's also obviously only half-assembled, by the gears and rods sticking haphazardly out of the base of the scructure. Or maybe it's half disassembled?
Regardless, Aliester himself is speaking to another servant, though all that Bjorn and Phil can hear before the page announces them is faint orchestral music. Until the page nervously announces the two, and the music appruptly fades. "See to my cousins," Aliester concludes, before turning to the two brevet Inspectors. "I presume there is some way I can facillitate your investigation?" Aliester asks, surrounding the three with a curtain of music so the servants can't hear.
His voice carries across the hall, and he turns his attention to some tiny, pocket-watch sized medallion that he's working springs and crystals into. Presumably, he can hear over the same distance.
"Indeed, your assistance would be most useful...is this room secure, Aliester?" Dracos wondered first, taking a quick appreciative gaze around his workshop. "Magnificient workshop you have here."
"We cannot be overheard," Aliester answers. "And thank you. I put what small time I can salvage into these works."
"As you know, there has been a plot to overthrow the young king since likely before his installment on the throne. We have become aware of some of the conspirators for this plot as well as a piece of technology that they have which lets them freely transport themselves from here to the world the ship landed on. There one of them was working on acquiring an army of men like Tom in order to attack and have the king killed in the confusion. Specifically, I believe Jennings to be if not the orchestrator of the plot, then their intended replacement for the king."
He paused to let Aliester consider that. "We're going to confront Jennings and likely discover their co-conspiritors, but with such a tool, it is indeed possible that they could strike at any time and at any place. They are able to draw resources from any place where they have managed a marker. It is likely when we confront him, they shall be forced to use whatever is in their hand."
"More plotting," Aliester says with a grimace. "There's a plot -- there's always a plot." He leans close to one of his devices, and starts setting a tiny red crystal in the device he's working on. After a moment, he sets the device and the fragment down with a sigh, and rubs at his eyes. "If I were half of the mechanic that Timothy is," he grumbles.
He dusts off his hands on a shop rag, and turns to regard the oddly matched Inspector-duo. "You'll want backup, then? Jennings ... hmm. Some private guards, possibly anabaric weapons, though no more than a dozen ... well, more, by this." He frowns. "I'll see to arranging a force to move in quickly and decisively, however, Jennings is never alone in society. The noteworthy and notable are always within easy summoning distance, and he has no small standing with the King, to say nothing of his influence in the Greater Council. For the rest, you will need to find some suitable social distraction, and that is the sort of nonsense I don't trouble myself with. Timothy or Catherine could probably fill that role admirably, as well as justifying more guards for the entourage, considering their recent absence."
"I am not inclined to patience in this situation," Bjorn says thoughtfully. "We do not know how far advanced the plots have gone. They can cross beyond the Gate; what have they done there? So let them feel the same doubt. The King's Spark has just been demonstrated, the Starflare has just returned. They will be feeling doubt. If we strike boldly and quickly at Jennings, then the rest will be wondering: who is next? What else do we know?
"But how to strike quickly? If we simply use force, then they will reply in kind if they might, and we do not know yet what resources they have at hand. If we can make it seem as if Jennings came to us of his own volition, that he was turning evidence... that would be best, but might be most difficult to arrange. Failing that, we want a way to cut Jennings out of the herd. To get him alone, out of sight of others, but in such a way that his co-conspirators remain uncertain as to whether the reason has anything to do with them. That will give us the hesitation we need to determine what we face."
He begins to pace back and forth, and would look very serious if he wasn't, you know, a voodoo midget. "I assume that is unreasonable the King invite Jennings to a private lodge or hunt or the like. So. You say he travels everywhere with notables. Who are these notables? Most particularly, if you might excuse my bluntness, which of them are the most odious bootlickers likely to be wrapped up in the conspiracy?"
Aliester's eyes track Bjorn unerringly, as the clockwork contraption is totally forgotten. "Hmm. You make good points. As far as who he travels with, whoever is the best singer in the actor's course, the best dancer, and so forth. Those are notable, but not noble. The danger there is only that when they speak, many will listen. His greatest ally, I would expect, is the Greater Council Secretary, Archibald Kennington. He's of minimal influence, ideally, but when he manages the record of the council.... And, when Kennington is not around, it will be Harold Massif, or Terrance Voynich. Massif is the Greater Councilman of Agriculture, and Voynich the Greater Councilman of Public Wellness.
"I would like to think that the secretary would keep his hands clean, but in a nightmare scenario, all three of them are enemies, allied with Jennings. I would gladly have rounded them up years ago, excepting that His Majesty does not approve of such overt measures." A faint smile comes to Aliester's lips. "I will be attending him when this plan is carried out. That seems it may be for the best, especially given any petty revenge plots borne up over the last futile moments of you stopping their sedition. Tell me when you will go, and if required, you may borrow my ornithoptor, and as many armed and able men as it can carry."
"Thank you, Aliester. Hopefully as few overt measures are necessary to eliminate this," Dracos considered.
"Suggesting we should pick off one and let the others stew for a bit to encourage them making mistakes? Too long and we'll be endangering folks though due to them getting desperate. Then again, one of them did make a trip to another world recently. Within the last few months. Do we know if any of these nobles may have gone on a vacation for a bit, Aliester? Perhaps instead they could have a sudden problem come to their door because of it, unrelated but providing an opportunity to put them down."
"I have the Inspector to manage questions like that," Aliester responds dryly, though he does begin pacing. "You make an interesting point, though. If Jennings surrounds himself at nearly all times, then his jaunts must either be in the small hours of the morning ... or his close allies are aware of his absences and are covering for him. Hmm."
Further discussion with Aliester is interrupted by a soft chime. The anabarist jerks his head up and turns to look between Phil and Bjorn, allowing the curtain of orchestral music to drop. "Your majesty," he says with a short, but courteous bow. "What brings you here?"
The young king is standing in the doorway, attended by a pair of guards. "A picnic," the boy declares. "We shall have a picnic in the palace gardens, and we believe that cousins Tim and Catherine should join us, and we should invite the crew of the Starflare, as well."
"Is that so?" Aliester asks, glancing at Bjorn and Phil meaningfully, before a whisper in his voice says, "Attend your investigations, and allow the Inspector to answer questions while the King and I are otherwise occupied." At the same time, Phil and Bjorn also hear Aliester say in conversational tones, "Well, that has the beginings of a fine plan, but I don't know that the crew of the Starflare is done seeing to the ship ... and you must also allow our cousins consideration for their own duties and restoration. All the same, there is no harm in asking, so, lead the way, your Majesty."
The child-king grins broadly and takes his uncle's hand as they begin walking down the corridors of the palace. Aliester doesn't so much as glance after either of the brevet-inspectors as they leave, even though another whisper suggests: "Good luck."
"Man," Bjorn says wistfully, "I wanna picnic."
"We can picnic with the Inspector. And Jennings, and possibly Harold, Kennington, and Terrace. It'll be great fun, I'm sure. We can have the very finest fruits and cheeses, and then finish it off with a deep red wine. And if they're insufferable to it, we can dine on top of their corpses...always the finest of fests, if I may say," Maddened he was, but Dracos responded, leading out the other way. "And while we will not partake of such fine ice creams, we shall instead partake of amusement of a more macabre fashion. Come, let us find the inspector who shall have answers to our questions~"
And so he lead off to find Inspector Holmes....
Finding the Inspector is a trial in urban tracking. Not only has everyone seen him, no one knows where he's headed. But, he went in "that" direction!
Eventually, after slightly longer than an hour, Phil and Bjorn corner the eternally busy Inspector as he's headed to his office. Timing is just perfect enough to see that there's a woman (probably a noble?) dressed in an elaborate black and green gown with two servants following her waiting at his door.
Holmes looks less than enthusiastic to see her. "Mistress Fawning," he says, smoothing his expression to a bland mask. "Fortune must indeed smile today. I would gladly assist you as soon as I finish the King's business."
The woman blinks, dark eyes widening slightly in surprise, then going over to the priest and the midget. "Well, the King's business is the business of the country," she agrees politely. "I shall arrange a picnic for us, and wait for you there." She flashes a triumphant smile before turning about, an expertly practiced move that causes her skirts to trail behind her, swaying and sending a mass of tiny ribbons waving before she vanishes around a corner.
"Delightful," Holmes says quietly, in a pained voice. He shakes his head and opens the door to his office. "Let us discuss, then," he says, not looking behind him as he strides in. "Close the door behind you, if you don't mind."
"Any chance you suspect her of being a conspirator against King and country?" Bjorn asks, doing as the Inspector indicates. "Or knowing anything of the Gates at all? I kinda want to hit something."
Holmes snorts. "She's ambitious, but harmless in the grand scheme of things," he says, shaking his head. "Is there a particular reason you're inclined to violence?"
That question receives careful consideration. "Not really."
Bjorn then lays out the details of the Jennings situation, focussing particularly on the need for some sense of the network around him, and whether any of those have recently been absent from the kingdom. "And so, Inspector, what thinkest thou?"
The inspector considers thoughtfully for a moment in silence, tapping his pipe out into a small ashtray, then refilling it. "Well," he says, after a moment, "anyone who has left has been quite careful about it. At the same time, my personal suspicion is that Jennings would be unlikely to find the time to vanish, considering all of his friends and the society he surrounds himself with. Perhaps on occasion...." He trails off with a frown, and lights his pipe. "No, one of his lapdogs must be doing the actual legwork. Someone who he can trust with a device, and the secret in general, who is also close enough to willingly work on his plans."
He ponders, turning his attention to a flat disk that sits on his desk, inscribed with a deep network of lines. "Kennington couldn't do it, he's too much in the public eye, and lacks the spine. Voynich would love the opportunity, but would turn on Jennings given the opportunity to escape his supervision. Massif is expected to be away on trips very often -- I would suspect him. However, on that note....
"Tom mentioned that he'd seen someone in Windhurst, as I recall. He also told me he'd recognize the man. There's a rendering of Massif in the Greater Council Hall -- of all of the Council members, actually. Earlier, I didn't think it would be a councilman, but if it is, then this will tell us in short order. The only issue is that the Crown is forbidden from acting directly against the Council. This would require a trial ... but exposure would ruin their plans, regardless."
"Well, then, reckon we need Tom. Don't suppose you know where he is at th' moment?"
"I don't believe he's left the palace," Holmes says helpfully. "He's likely with Nathan and Tim. I believe they went to speak with Catherine."
"Well, handy that they didn't go far. Let's go. The sooner we ascertain whether there's another dangerous individual out there with a device for bringing armies to this world, the better," Dracos headed out with the two, half following Holmes towards Catherine's chambers.
Shortly, the Inspector leads the group to Catherine's room, which it is not far away. He checks his pockets for something while letting Bjorn or Phil go ahead and knock.
About to knock on the door, Bjorn pauses, hand raised. He's been thinking about spirits, he realized, in a a way informed by the outlook of his current other-self, which is somewhat traditional-elemental-theory in base. Which is not entirely sensible; after all, "air" or "fire" isn't really a fairly abstract concept... much like, say, door. And so, rather than knock, he lets his finger rest gently against it and reaches out with his mind for the spirit of the door.
The spirit of the door is present, and feels a bit different then contact with an elemental spirit. It's more defined, but at the same time, much weaker, more primitive.
The door is curious as to why it was awakened, but isn't quite intelligent enough to communicate with words. Even so, Bjorn can understand it simply enough.
Silently, Bjorn explains that he wishes to have his presence announced to those inside the room. How the door does this, he leaves up the door. Then he asks what price it would ask.
The door is in good condition externally, but the varnish conceals a flaw that the anchor-points for the door hinge screws have worsened: a good blow will break it open. It wants that repaired, and and the people who replaced its good wooden panel to not mess it up again.
It takes a moment to realize that despite the door's simple perceptions, this damage was intentional. But the door doesn't like it, because it interferes with the ideal state of 'door'-ness. It will announce visitors in exchange for a promise to take care of it.
Holmes looks up from his watch and asks, "Is something wrong?" quietly.
Making the promise, Bjorn says aloud, "Someone tampered with the hinges. The door can be broken down easily. You'll need to get a good carpenter -- one you can trust -- in to fix it."
No sooner does Bjorn make the promise than the door follows through on its half of the bargain.
This thread now goes back to Questioning the Notion (http://www.soulriders.org/forum/index.php?topic=100476.msg1009324#msg1009324)