Scholars and Revolutions ~ a sub thread from Days of Disquiet, Days of Rage.

[Palacrisis D Jones]

Ist brightening of Immanis [ one day after the wedding and the assassination attempt]

As the book shops of students row opened their dusty doors onto a cold wet morning Palacrisis was standing on a corner .The past few hours had been difficult they had left the palace at dawn and he had rushed back to the L’Rodan estate to find the bedroom door locked to him and Katherine’s parents explaining that their daughter was far too upset to rise and greet her new husband.

Pala had grabbed a couple of candlemarks in a chair and then dressing in old clothes and wearing his broad brimmed hat and a long black cloak had swept out into the early morning. He had tied a couple of books up with string and stuck them under his arm to complete the disguise of a scholar from distant parts and armed only with the cane with the horses head handle had made his way to the agreed meeting place.

How they were going to accomplish the task of finding out who or what the “The fists of Rage” were he had no idea but if the combined experience and wit of a provincial governor and an archbishop were not enough to gain a single clue he doubted that the heavy footed approach of the intelligence services would do better .

[Gossamer]

The old woman scholar walked primely onto the scene, complete with cane and wide-brimmed hat. She practically oozed wealth and extremism. A scarf covered her hair beneath the hat, and thick glasses perched on her nose. Rouge darkened her cheeks in perfect circles, appropriate of the style of women of her class. She looked decidedly upset.

click. click. click. click.

It was an annoyingly metal tipped cane, and there was more than one gentleman who had to dodge out of her way or risk getting their foot impaled by its sharp tip. As for the woman, she was... less than pretty. Her skin was sallow at first glance, and her nose far too big to be considered 'proper'. Her long hair was escaping out of the back of her wrapped and hatted head in the form of braids that lent an air of 'womanness' about her. And, she had on garish perfume. Well, garish was a bit harsh. It was an expensive brand, and indeed would have been nice in about a tenth of the quantity... but nonetheless...

Palacrisis soon found himself assulted by the woman, who sided up to him, squeeled in delight, and pinched his cheeks. "Thomas Sodder, you old sneak. What are you doing in my neck of the woods! Its been so long since I've had you in my lectures. How are you doing? We must catch up! Are you here buying books? Oh dear, you must escort me around. I'm looking for something quite particular. Do you know my latest charitable cause fell through? Can you imagine? They wanted to support the Governor in something outragous like building a new Tourney Ground. I yanked my funding so hard their tail spun... that that... IMPORT! I'm so on the look for a new cause... you wouldn't happen to have any suggestions? I want home grown Aelyria Prime activism... not garish new Tourney Grounds to entertain out of town guests....the horror. " She gushed, her voice harsh, her fingers sharp on his cheek. Soon however, she retreated, looked around, and demanded. "Tea first though. There are a number of good ones here. You are buying." She said primly.

Palacrisis found himself looking straight into the dark green eyes of Father Walt, dutifully dressed to the hilt for his roll as matriarch scholar, wealth, and prestige. The Archbishop of Prime adjusted his skirt, looped his arm through Palacrisis', and set off with him talking loudly ... no complaining... about the merits of being an investor in todays day and age.

His goal, Palacrisis would soon see, was a teahouse not far from where they were standing.

[Palacrisis D Jones]

To say Pala was surprised by the disguise would be an understatement , it was perfect if not a little disturbing. He found himself nodding sagely as the priest made his way through the early morning crowd and deciding that the choice of disguise must be a throw back to the day job. All that wearing of robes must have some sort of back lash on a chap. Still he could not help but admit that the outfit outshone his by many a country mile and he could not help admire the jaunty way that father Walt wore it. Having his cheeks pinched by a man of advanced years was not entirely pleasant but it went with the disguise so puckering up Pala air kissed either cheek by way of return

“My dear professor he gushed how absolutely spiffing to see you again after all these era’s Indeed professor I am looking for books and pamphlets ancient political treatises and that sort of thing ….You know I have always been interested in the roots of politics ……Really , how dreadful , a new tourney ground , how appalling is that , a complete waste of money in my opinion. Where is the expenditure on the working. classes, the young and the brilliant?….my dear professor you were so right to withdraw funding …..How could those swine even contemplate such a venture when the city is crying out for the leadership of the masses?

Pala took the fathers arm and with a slight wink at his unattractive companion set off for the tea rooms like a couple of very old friends. Pala took his lead from Father Walt and did not bother to whisper.

A new cause professor? ….Democracy should be your watchword the time has come for the masses to rise up and spread the word emancipation like a clarion call across the empire , one man, one woman, one vote each. Universal suffrage, wars that are fought through the power of the ballot bx , elected leaders that rise on merit not because they were born into the blood or are cronies with the powerful. The empire needs elected leaders , yes professor that’s the ticket !

The people should rule ,not be ruled by the few lucky hangers on…..But my dear professor for that happy brightening to arrive there has to be struggle ,on the streets ,in the schoolrooms , a struggle of new ideas and philosophies. A militant struggle that works towards the overthrowing of the old order in favour of the people. The wealth providers not the wealth users. The men and women who struggle to feed their families and are preyed upon by the dilettantes of the palace….

Pala was spouting in full flow seemingly oblivious to the crowds of people passing by , throwing his arms around and gesticulating but all the time his hard blue eyes were searching for reactions and interest . As his spiel dried up they reached the teahouse.

Mentally Pala said a quiet thank you to an old friend who had actually believed the nonsense he had been specifying , one Ormond Tengear whom he had met in his early days in Trysvale. After finding a table in the middle of the room he helped his “female” guest to a seat and sat down.

Professor this is indeed my treat , to meet you again after so many passing eras is a delight. As I was saying I am looking for books , there is a slim volume written by one Ormond Tengear that was written some eras ago which sets out his vision for democracy in the empire. The running dogs of the intelligence service refused permission for general publication as it was considered subversive yet all this document reflected was the eons past history of the ancient Allerians. A time of wisdom and dispassionate discussion on all things that were important where every citizen was accorded the respect of being able to freely voice their opinions ,very unlike the tyranny of these times.

Pala had grown into the role and was hoping that his role playing of a dotty old radical might gain some interest in the area.

[Gossamer]

That Palacrisis considered Father Walt an old man was not an uncommon event. Everyone considered him quite elderly, though in truth if pressed, they'd say he aged well. But the reality was, dark of skin, snow white hair, the Archbishop of Prime was really only a little past his thirtieth year. And while his methods were indeed unconventional, his results were often good. There wasn't anything the good Father couldn't portray. His repertoire ran the gauntlet from Knight to Chimney Sweep, to Sailor, to Bard, to indeed old woman when the situation called for it. That was the brilliant thing about being Archbishop to one of the biggest Cathedrals in Prime, in charge of one of the best charity programs ever. He had access to clothing. Uniforms, armor, dresses, even frocks.... there wasn't much Father Walt couldn't pull off and impersonate, nor indeed hadn't he. Known far and wide throughout Prime by one identity or another, the good archbishop had his fingers in all sorts of things....

Just not the Fists of Rage... and it vexed him. In recent times, he'd been distracted by the Church problems, the imbezzeling, the outright theivery and corruption. And in doing so, he'd neglected his role in the city, and had lapsed in keeping his thumb on the heartbeat and pulse of the goings on of the people. Otherwise, he'd have warned someone, knew ahead of time, been more set up to deal with this. There was a lot of guilt in his soul. A lot.... but he was going to do all he could to set it right. And glad, indeed, he was that he had Palacrisis' help and enthusiastic support of this particular venture. It was always easier to look legitimate with a supporter in tow. Always.

They linked arms, and bless Palacrisis' adventuresome soul, he was game for the whole lot of it. What he added to the conversation was brilliant, and established their background well. Father Walt rather thought to himself that he might just have a new backup in further adventures as well... having never thought to elicit other souls on his fact finding disguise donning sorte`s.

They traversed the street, arm in arm, and walked into the shop to have a seat. Father Walt, in his Professor Hanna Milscraft disguise nodded. "Indeed. Its a shame they limit printings of such fine volumes, then collect subtly, those that do make it out onto the streets.... such good verse too. Its odd that when someone makes actual SENSE, its suppressed. Don't you think? And a pity too. I don't think its on the Empirical level. I think its on the city government level. There are some bad apples here, for sure." She said, coughing slightly, then ordering her tea as a waiter appeared.

They talked about a few more things, and then after a half candlemark and the teahouse being quiet, Father Walt rose and suggested they go look for the volumes in question together. The Father, knowing a great deal of patience, kept Palacrisis repeating his dialogs and only varying the facts and substances a little as they hit six more teahouses (a woman's privy for Father Walt) and then settled in a particularly nice Bistro called "Food For Thought".

Their dialog barely started, their orders placed, when a conversation caught their attention from the table behind them. Two men and a woman, plus what looked like an assistant or a student sat at a table. They were discussing, abit quietly, the state of Prime since its reopening and everyones subsequent return. Palacrisis could only hear snatches of the conversation due to where he was sitting. Walt could hear even less, being across the table from Palacrisis. What he did hear was interesting.... "... no Thane forever, then when one was appointed, she was given Governorship as well.... and whats she done? Nothing... there isn't even a vice thane nor a assistant Governor in place....." and yet later on.... "Not surprising someone shot at her.... I wonder if she will live? If she dies, maybe he will appoint someone from the actual city itself who knows the city?" Then a few minutes later... ".... something that should have been done from the beginning... Its nothing against Milo, he does a good job with the Empire...." And then... most disturbing of all.... "You know whats next? I heard they are gonna take......" He couldn't quite figure out what was being said after that. Someone at that table started sneezing over too much pepper in a salad and it was covering the dialog.

Meanwhile, Father Walt had snapped open a ladies fan and was fanning himself furiously, while smiling at Palacrisis. Yet, his eyes weren't on his companion, they were studying the people at the table next door. He was watching lips, Palacrisis was certain of it.

[Palacrisis D Jones]

The sheer pleasure of actually trying to do something rather than sitting around yapping like a pack of leaderless dogs appealed greatly to Palacrisis. He was tired, he was grumpy, he was worried about the state of mind of his bride of the previous brightening but that was just a nag at the back of the head like a fading hangover and Pala was well used to hangovers. You simply put up with them until they faded away.

His companion intrigued him more and more, Father Walt was more than a high ranking priest he fitted the role of the professor perfectly almost as if he was a trained actor. He did not seem uncomfortable or embarrassed in his skirts it was as though he had slipped into the part so much that to all extent and purposes he was Hanna Milscraft. It was an impressive display from someone that Pala was becoming increasingly conscious that here was man he could respect and learn from.

They continued their tour slipping out of cafes and tea houses listening and talking many conversations were listened to snippets here odd words here. It was becoming obvious that all was not well within the student quarter . Power was the question and the polemic was many and varied but the theme seemed to boil down to leadership of the city Aelyria Prime to be led by the people of the city not by imported foreigners

The new city crafted by the Allerians under their opaque bubble seemed to be seen as the exclusive property of its inhabitants to be run by them for them. The concept of the role of capitol seemed to have passed these debaters by.

The latest café gave them something like their first lead. The fragments of conversation that drifted across from the neighbouring table seemed at first to be a rehash of the same old argument that they had been listening to all of the morning yet a snippet slipped into his straining ears and an eyebrow raised itself .

“Who were they gonna take ?” he thought as he listened with as much concentration as he could manage trying to filter out the surrounding babble and focus on one whispered conversation , his eyes slipped towards Walt and he too was rapt his eyes seemingly focussed on the diners mouths.

lip reading , by damn …is there nothing this strange interesting priest could not do?

He was ready for action his hand gripped the cane with the horses head handle tightly the sword stick artfully disguised by the seemingly innocent nature of its handle waiting for a word, a gesture from father Walt. Palacrisis knew how to lead but better than that he also knew when to follow and this seemed a time for the latter.

[Gossamer]

Father Walt almost swore. Had he seen that right? Who in the devil was Milo's Rose? He glanced at Palacrisis, then back at the table beyond, not wanting to miss anything. But the group was breaking up... rising. Carriages were pulling up outside the bistro, clearly arriving at some set point.

Palacrisis could still hear. "Well, we will see..... next week. Same time? ... tea's excellent. No, the wife's waiting..." Walt turned, and started noting carriages, their types, horse colors, general appearance. All of them looked private, nothing gilded or fancy, but of good quality. Palacrisis had an even better view of the conveyances. Now.. finally, they were getting somewhere.

When the group was gone, the bistro felt empty. Only one or two patron's remained. Father Walt noted who was waitressing, and then stopped one as she passed by. He pulled a small book from his dress pocket and gestured at it. "Many pardons, Madam.... but that man, the tall distinguished man... he dropped this." Father Walt brandished the book.. no Professor Hanna Milscraft did, a perfect imitation of another woman. "That daft man dropped his book. I tried to get his attention, but he wouldn't hear of it surrounded by those men. Daft of him, dropping a book. It's just like those scholarly business types. He looks incredibly familiar. Do you happen to know his name? I'd like to see the book back to him." Hanna said politely, managing a mixture of disgust and resignation. "I should just keep it, but thats stealing. Drat men for ignoring me. He probably lives blocks and blocks from here where I will have to rent a cab. What do you think Thomas... I swear... men.. not you dear, but men...." She huffed.

The waitress smiled. "You'd probably know him better as Dean Dolgram. He runs the Academy of Political Science here in Prime. He's not too far away actually, about twenty blocks. You could walk it if you don't mind darkness on the back side of your journey." The woman said helpfully, giving Palacrisis a smile, and a chance to ask his own questions. She slipped away, back to the register, but was back in another minute, handing Palacrisis a slip of paper with an address on it.

"There, thats where he lives." The waitress said, smiling. "Don't let her go alone. Its a rough neighborhood." And with that, she was gone, off to wait a few more tables.

Walt stared at Palacrisis then, concern flooding 'her' features. "Palacrisis, who's Milo's Rose? Thats who they are going to take..."

[Palacrisis D Jones]

Pala under his guise of a bumbling radical had been watching intently the comings and goings from the bistro. The place seemed like a regular meeting place and what seemed obvious was that the plotters if this was the group had regular habit’s the whispered conversation around the table was terminated as the carriages rolled up at an agreed time and each of the men left at the same time. This was not a chance meeting but something prearranged and with a strict timetable.

The faces of the plotters were unknown to him , but they looked to be from the middle classes their conveyances were chosen for practical work not show but each of them were apparently in good order meaning they had servants and drivers to care for their conveyances. One carriage had a coat of arms or some such other device emblazoned into the door and although the picture was clearly in his mind the significance was not.

The waitress was helpful and obviously knew her regular customers names. Palacrisis smiled up at the girl … “Ah yes Dean Dolgram, fine man had some wonderful insights into the role of the senates committees as I remember from his lectures so long ago and the man with him the one who is losing his hair he seems familiar to me. Perhaps a fellow student at the time of my attendance? His face was familiar but alas time dims the memory and eras change a mans face.

It was a shot in the dark but names were gold dust in any investigation

They had a name, an address and a puzzle. Who was Milo’s Rose? Pala lifted Thomas’s tea cup and spoke over the rim.

Milo’s Rose….the Knights of the Black Rose. Milo’s personal body guard springs to mind but that would mean Milo’s Roses not Rose in the singular. This nickname is hardly going to apply to a man even in the somewhat murky pleasures of Aelyria Prime ..no it must mean a woman. A woman close to the regent. Nell …. he leant forward and whispered I have heard Milo use the term “peach” towards her as a pet name but never Rose I do not believe that this group are after the regents children , the public would not countenance such an action so it must be a woman close to Milo

Pala’s eyes widened as realisation of the probable answer struck him

Nikki L’Evienne, Milo’s sister, he dotes on her and she is a wild exotic creature and if rumour is to believed she has a shady past running with a wild bunch in her youth. Yes, the rose with its beauty and sharp thorns suits her well. I would wager that she is the intended target.

His sharp blue eyes met the priests across the table both men knew that what they did next could be crucial and Pala leaned forward and took his hand gently as old friends do.

As I see it we have three options available to us, one we can take these suspicions back to the palace and let the security services take over. Two, we can go and visit this Dean Dolgram on some pretence perhaps asking his advice on a political question and gauge the response. The latter is more dangerous we have no way of knowing how many of these “Fists of Rage” there are or if this Dean Dolgram is protected.

Out third option is to simply spy out the land and judge our actions on what we find.

Palacrisis left the questions open, the first option was the most sensible but Palacrisis had not got where he was by avoiding risks all the time.

[Gossamer]

Father Walt looked thoughtful. After the departure of the group, the bistro had quieted, and the two were able to talk more openly. His painted lips curved into a smile as Palacrisis took his hands. Through the touch, the governor could well tell that Walt was tense, excited... like an animal on the hunt.

"Nikki L'Evienne... I've not seen her at church once. Interesting. I'll have to ask the Mousai Priestess who runs the chapel in the Palace if she attends there. Perhaps she can keep an eye on her discretely." He said thoughtfully, then nodded. Palacrisis, he was starting to see, was a thoughtful intelligent man. He laid out exactly what options Walt would have, and it caused Walt to grin in such a conspiratorial manner that the Arakmat Governor couldn't help but be drawn into the admiration and friendship in the Priests eyes.

"Of course, your right. We do have three options. Those were the three I'd pick out immediately too. The problem is, which is the right one?" Father Walt mused a bit.

"If we run back to the palace and tell them what we know, they will probably round up half the Legion, go arrest Dean Dolgram, and we might miss the entire group altogether if hes not really involved. There's a lot of emotional involvement here in Liselle's attack, and because of that a lot of disconnect of intelligence. On the other hand.. If we do nothing, they could snatch this rose, whomever it is, and then we are to blame. If we go talk to Dolgram, we might clue them in... and yet I might really feel thats one of the best things to do. But what if they find out we are who we are? The best disguise is often hiding in plain sight. The Dean would never expect the Archbishop of Prime to be investigating Liselle's assassination attempt, nor the bridegroom at the wedding..... If we go, we go as ourselves. And I think we should go. But I think we should also speak to Milo privately. He's involved emotionally, and hes furious... but hes a lesser fury than Alexis or Liselle, and our dear Regent has a level head. Ogabe would be an option too, but I'd rather he didn't know how closely I keep my finger on the politics and doings in the city. Milo can tell him if he likes." Walt mused. His eyes met Palacrisis' and he looked thoughtful.

"Thats my opinion... we need a combination of all three. What do you think? These people have proven themselves dangerous, but I'm still not certain what they entail exactly. I will let you decide, my dear Governor. I find it interesting what others see as a priority. Plus, you might have to get us in to see Milo. I'm not a personal friend, though my rank might open the door quickly... not as quickly as a sincere request from you will I'm sure." He smiled, patting Palacrisis' hands, and scooting back.

In a clear voice 'she' said.... "I do recall you said you'd spring for lunch." Walt said, eyes twinkling. This would have been the fifth meal Walt had pried out of Palacrisis that day, although granted they'd gotten lighter and lighter as the day progressed. This one was simply tea and scones.

[Palacrisis D Jones]

Pala was weary and upset a brightening ago he had been in the business of getting married. Now nigh on 29 hours later he was suffering from lack of sleep, a guilty conscience about his new bride and in the company of cross dressing priest. He was cudgelling his brains to figure out what the “Blue Hells of Jorel” they should do .He was running on adrenaline and coffee and his stomach hurt from all the meals he had forced down his gullet.

On the other hand he was thoroughly enjoying himself being a stuffy governor was all well and good but when was the last time he had actually done something practical with a hint of impending danger? It had been era’s since he had got down and dirty and under his vest was a heart beating faster than normal.

“Very well , lets think about this logically” he whispered as his uneasy stomach tried to cope with a cup of weak tea.

“It’s one brightening since the attempt on Liselle so this group are hardly going to attempt a move on “The Rose” when the palace is on a state of high alert and Alexis has ordered a curfew on the city. We are going to be up to our knees in guards and Rosemen and goodness only knows who else come sundown. This gives us the advantage of a little time.”

“With that in mind I tell my staff if you have a problem share it with whoever can help. Milo is fairly level headed and he is not going to start another panic .If the Rose is his sister then he will want to make sure she is safe and he at least deserves an inkling of our suspicions .”

“What we do not want is the security services barging in and forewarning this dean that he is under suspicion. Therefore lets tell Milo about this but insist we make our own arrangements for additional manpower. You must have some husky acolytes who know which end of a sharp sword to hold and I have four knights of Aslangard who most certainly know about these things.”

“I am inclined to march into the Deans place and put the fear of Diana up him and if we have Milo’s warrant that circumnavigates any curfew we can move with speed and some semblance of confidence that our respective back sides are covered.”

He snapped his fingers and ordered two large brandies and when they arrived he lit up a cigar. He drank a good shot and felt the weariness begin to dissipate before leaning over the table.

“Dolgram do you know him? Is he well off ? It occurs to me that if he is orchestrating some sort of revolution within the city he must have money to spend if he does not then it occurs to me that he might just be a cog in a chain. Its all pure speculation on my part you understand but if this works it might turn a little unpleasant and frankly my dear I am in the mood to get bloody unpleasant.”