The Oatcake and the Deacon

    When Cei and I parted I hid myself along the grounds until the sky was bereft any trace of the cauldron. Observing the St. Axiel's, I located the Deacon's residence in a spire above the nave. With darkness as my guise, and a mildly acrobatic feat of climbing, I was at his window. My faith is my armor, but so is my glamoured leather armor and it's tool pockets. A prayer, a resolution, an almost inaudible click and the darkness of the chamber's was fatter by one nun. I could have been regiment's armor  tumbling down stairs for all the spare attention 'Deacon,' Albrecht possessed. As service was vigorously applied to Albrecht by the strapping lads: I looked for something beyond his behaviour to damn him in the eyes of the ecclesiarchy. His nightstand teemed with austentatious jewelry. The moans, and clapping flesh escalated, masking the crunch of jewelry being wadded before disappearing into a sleeve. Not my most graceful operation, but I only act a thief  when guided to it by Aeo's demand. I am smoke through the window, leaving Albrecht to the pleasures a man like him can only acquire with gold. My boots make no sound landing on the second story balcony before I slip to the ledge below. Mater Supior Akempo giving me instruction at a novice is suddenly in my mind: a lesson in surgery, "failing to cut the rot completely and precisely is not saving pain: it is choosing to kill them with poison. Timidity and mercy are not the same." 

    A small leap and controlled roll - a flicker on the lawn, then I slip into the trees in the pre-dawn light.  In the shelter of the verdant foliage, waiting,  taking stock of the jewelry. It seems our deacon has expensive tastes, and a tick of paranoia. Perhaps his paid company can lead me to more details on his transgressions. I believe Ceonred will be able to put the fear of flame into Albrecht, but more fuel couldn't hurt. 

    As I crouch, I watch and Under my thought, I speak the words of his litanies - a chorus of providence counting my mind time as the cauldren crawls into the sky. The beneficence of the moment is broken with a commotion in St. Axiel's. A dread begins to build - perhaps the small measure of decency I afforded the Deacon was too generous. I feel no fear for myself - I am his tool of mercy - I fear my own judgment doing harm. Then I see it: two guards, two disheveled captives being harassed to a guardhouse. I am a ordo solarium sister again, hiking her robe to tail the commotion. One of the guards turns at my approach, skepticism in his voice "sister. What brings you to us?" "I was contemplating along the plants and I heard a commotion, is everything alright?" With a sigh the guard says, "it's fine. The deacon caught these burglers in his chambers." Damn.  Careless medicine is harm. I don't allow anything other than the theatrical response "I'm glad you've handled it, and all is well. I must on to my morning prayers. Thank you." 

Back to cover. Wait. A face of authority and timing can set this right. I watch the squat guards building. I am due to meet my companions in an hour. 

Ten minutes pass before one of the guards leaves. When he reaches the cathedral, I am as wind through the boughs gusting towards the barred windows of the outpost. Blending to the wall about to peer in barred window  an authoritatove voice can be heard "... That's what they get for trying to escape." I see the desecrated bodies of the Deacons escort of last night workers; crumpled, open-eyed and bloody.  Aeo grant them mercy and peace. I ease back from the window a defeated breeze to cover. All of Aeo's children can be redeemed, though I hope those guards find penance enough to make them worthy of salvation. 

Evidence. Here's your poultice, you'll keep the limb. 

I am in the shoes of a weary mine laborer, resolute in my devotion on my morning walk to temple. A different version of myself would be meeting my friends in a few minutes. Sat in the first pew, the cauldrons illumination pours in. A pathetic man with a miniscule cock is draped in velvet and finery (though missing some jewelry) approaches the lectern. Apostate. He begins the morning mass - I know this sermon or at least the parable behind it. At this rate it'll be near half an hour until he returns to his chambers. Slipping from the pew I leave the nave a pious, worn man, and step into the quarters a novice, unremarkably demure and devoted. I can feel the weight of my picks, my daggers and Aeo's symbol as I ascend the spire to the Deacon's quarters.  though I'm pulling a key from massive pockets of my slip, I have my rake and pick turning in the lock. Wasnt I just saying I'm not a thief? No mat... odd. In the small complex world of the lock I can feel my pick holding up an unexpected weight. Not a thief she tells herself, then she has to keep pressure on the pick while turning the turner pulling the rake while making it look like she's a draft girl struggling with a stubborn lock. A thief would wait for an opportune time and not press on. Then there were three sounds: the snap of my pick, the sound of an alarm, and the ruffle of my fabrics rustling as I walked away, trying to look and sound as though I'd never stopped. I let myself be carried in that movement to resident chambers of the sisters that will be empty at this time of day. Where skill is unable to prevail His blessing may...

RECAP JUN-JUL

 

The party leaves Charligan and travels to Northwall to investigate the alleged heretic, as per Cei's assignment. 

Northwall is built into a mountainside and bisected by the Rift River, which flows directly out of the mountain. They are greeted by the curious majesty of the Temple of St. Axiel and St. Anne; the old Cathedral of St. Axiel was destroyed by the river, and the Temple grounds are now overrun by beautiful greenery that grows without any tending, is perpetually green throughout the year, and is unusual for the region. 

Sevara and Cei go to pay their respects to the local clergy. They learn that the local Deacon, Albrecht, has a reputation as a corrupt profligate. Cei is incensed that such a man should be in charge of such a sacred site, but must turn her attention to her task. She also learns that many in the region feel a deep shame over the treatment of the Kharid-- the Ecclesiastes-led purge of which was one of the events sparking Charl's rebellion-- and maintain those views even in the face of Church orthodoxy.

Sevara offers to stay to investigate the Deacon. Cyrus, Lyra, and Bartholomew leave for the Circle tower, so that Bartholomew may decide for himself if he wishes to join the Circle's ranks. 

The Circle of Thorns tower is a wonder as well, and is presided over by Archmagister Jocasta, an impressive and capable magus. However, Bartholomew hesitates, and does not commit to the ranks of the Circle, despite Cyrus and Cei's earlier urgings. 

Lyra wanders through the tower grounds and finds herself at a tavern where Custos often congregate. She has a most unusual encounter there-- she meets one of the elusive Kharid, a being named Valen, who as it turns out, is Archmagister Jocasta's own Custos. She handles the encounter with utmost care and caution, keeping in mind the Kharid's justifiable distrust of Tytonians, and Valen seems to be, if not befriended, not alienated further. 

On the morrow, Reniel and Abelard seem to be missing; the group take note of it, but resolve to continue their various duties in the city. 

Cyrus conducts research in the Circle library. He uncovers much relevant information, including the identity of Lord Gothriel, Calli's patron, who seems to be a demon lord considered a master of undeath, known by such sobriquets as "prince of the gleaming host" and "lord of the withered hand"; he finds accounts stating that some mages have attempted to make bargains of immortality with him. He also learns assorted information on vampires, including the wide range of forms, powers, appearance, and vulnerabilities they have; it seems that oak and hawthorn through the heart immobilizes some, but not all, of them. 

Sevara, operating stealthily, discovers Deacon Albrecht in flagrante delicto with two young male sex workers. 

Cei checks in at the Officia Inquisitoraea. The Northwall office is manned by one lone Inquisitor and his assistant, a stalwart and capable former pirate named Dafydd Fawkes. Cei asks for his assessment of the bard's alleged heresy, and is initially unimpressed when he says that it certainly constitutes heresy, but it must be handled delicately; she deems this a dereliction of Inquisition duty. But upon speaking with Inquisitor Fawkes further, she realizes her own error-- being an Inquisitor requires a different mindset and tactics than being a Purifier did. She admits this to Fawkes, somewhat apologetically, and offers him a hundred gold pieces from her stipend to aid the obviously underfunded and understaffed Northwall Inquisitoraea. 

The "bard", as Fawkes informs her, is a wastrel son of a hard-nosed nobleman, elevated from his tradesman background by the late Baron Tytamon-- the noble, Lord Toliver Musetti, owns a shipping concern, is connected to shipping and mining guilds, and has a stake in a local gem mine. The son, Beric, appears to be a drunk, lecher, middling aspiring bard, and a general disappointment to his father. The song appears to constitute genuine heresy, as it claims that the Archon Phandrien did not exist, and one of the Archons was in fact a Kharid. There were many witnesses to his song, and he appears to have frequented a tavern known to many miners and stonemasons called the Foundry.

At the Circle Tower, Lyra speaks with Archmagister Jocasta to see if she can gain any insight about her diabolist tattoos. She is truthful about their provenance.The Archmagister immediately mentions the purging of the centuries-old curse from Blackhall and concludes correctly that the events are connected, and asks what happened. Lyra is prudent, giving an accurate but neutral account of the events of Blackhall, but not stating outright the group's interpretation of the documents they found or their impact on history or Church dogma, merely stating that "many historical documents were retrieved and are in the possession of our Inquisitor-General companion". Lyra then asks about the strange incident with her dream of flight in the forest, and subsequent nude awakening. Jocasta unhesitatingly says she is descended from skin-changers, that she may access this power if she wishes, and that she is best served by discretion. 

Sevara continues to surveil the Deacon, and makes the terrible discovery that the two young men servicing the Deacon have been arrested and imprisoned as "burglars" and are killed "during an escape attempt". She breaks into the deacon's quarters and magically paralyzes him as he eats a mouthful of oatcake. He chokes and suffocates to death without Sevara leaving so much as a mark on him-- the perfect assassination. Sevara dons a raven's form and escapes. Hints of the raven guise remain on her when she transforms back. 

The group reunites, and each give a report of their activities, though Sevara says she merely discovered the Deacon's profligacy. Cei leads the group back to the Temple, intending to arrest the Deacon for heresy... only to hear the news he has died of choking on his oatcake. For a moment, she raises a questioning eyebrow at Sevara... but her beloved confessor assures her she had nothing to do with it, and Cei believes her wholeheartedly. Cei writes a letter to the Archbishop urging him to choose a more fitting Deacon for such a holy site. 

The group accompany Cei to find and interrogate the heretical bard, Beric Musetti. Their inquiries at the Foundry and at the Musetti estate do not reveal much. It seems Beric is indeed merely a wastrel, according to his father and his grizzled, martially competent housemarten, who associates with lowlifes, owes money all over town, and is currently being passed over for his sister Davina as heir. No one has much idea of where Beric can be found. 

Cei prays for guidance, and manages to divine a glimpse of Beric's location. The group makes their way to the southeast of the city, where Beric is apparently staying in a hovel. As they approach, so do a group of thugs, who the group assumes are intent on shaking Beric down for money. Cei intimidates them with full Inquisitorial glowers; they back off, and Bartholomew conjures magical grease that fells Beric before he can escape. (His lover bursts from the shack and makes a valiant attempt to defend him.)

They bring him back to the Inquisitor's office for questioning. Beric is defeated and despondent and doesn't put up much fight; he states that either the Inquisition will kill him or the goons will. Cei determines that he wrote the heretical song himself, but he states he was inspired by an ancient text he won at dice-- a curious book with a cover of woven copper, that contained the statements about the Kharid Archon and Phandriel. 

Cei asks Beric why on earth he would write a heretical song, knowing what the stakes were, and he replies he was moved by the story. In a strange way, Cei senses both divine inspiration at work, and a kindred spirit, and she states so, having had a hard and cruel noble father who she failed to be good enough for. 

She declares Beric guilty of heresy, and sentences him to hard labour at Bartholomew's estate constructing the scrivener's academy, and additionally sentences him to lute lessons from Bartholomew in the evenings. 

The group debate what to do next. They decide that they will look for the tome at the Musetti estate, although the chances seem slim; furthermore Lyra will speak to Valen and ask if the text could potentially be of Kharid origin. Cei demands to speak to Valen; Lyra refuses, wishing to shield Valen from potential re-terrorizing by the Inquisition, and Cei, hearing the sense in Lyra's words, asks Lyra to present her case to Valen and let them decide on their own whether or not to accept the invitation. She states she needs to look into Valen's eyes and learn whether the Kharid do truly follow Aeo, and if she feels that they do, she will defend them to the death as she would any other faithful of Aeo. She also acknowledges the underlying truth: if indeed this text was a sacred Kharid text, and it is true, then the heresy is, in fact, truth, and the group will bear the burden of yet another "heresy" they know to be Aeo's own truth.