Vinco Timor (private, Labyrinth)

[Traian C. Laitus]

Timestamp: Candlemark 13 of Carmelyana, Brightening 4 of the First Cycle of Immanis
Spring of Era II of the Celestine Mandate
Era XIV Post Fractum, the Second Era of the Regency of Milo L'Evienne
Paradigm: Twelve New Constellations Discovered

Traian was excited for this brightening. At least, that was how his outward appearances displayed his glee. Of course, the face plastered to his outer shell of being usually carried a bright smile for all and a confident shape, but today was different. Today he truly was bursting with eagerness. His inward self did not allow for too much celebration, however, and kept its cool, logical approach to everything, still catching minute details on miscellaneous things. Perhaps the most accurate depiction of Traian's demeanor was an actor set loose to freely display the feelings of which he did have personal experience, but was, indeed, still acting.

He left the house just as it reached the 13th candlemark, which would give him time to get to the Private Trade Circle just as the suns reached their zenith. Eager to arrive precisely on time, Traian walked at a moderate pace, always keeping an eye on the suns and going through in his head the methods of identifying the one he was to locate. Although their was a slight hint of anxiety in his system, this mostly arose from the notion of finally meeting one at least associated with the Masters. He had feared them for so long, but after the brightening before last, had undergone a change of heart. Traian now yearned to learn more and become familiar with the Masters, to discover what it was they desired of him.

Pausing in front of Ty'raa's Emporium for a moment to gather himself, Traian looked to either side of him before walking in with a straight face, observant now more than ever. He doubted it would be difficult to find a man wearing a crimson cloak in the shoppe, but want to make certain that he could calculate a perfect approach and make all the right moves in order to strike the appropriate impression. However, his attempts were masked masterfully by the casually pompous attitude he assumed the moment he walked into the store. He took a quick scanning glance around the place at his first entrance, then moved over to a shelf directly, having decided that he needed a pot. Picking up the first and the next, he did not seem to be satisfied with anything, and the sour look on his face revealed such. Whispering a curse with emphatic disappointment, he stared up at the ceiling of his brows for half a second.

Traian then turned back around, checking once again for a crimson cloak. If he found one, he would remember that he needed one of whatever happened to be behind the man. If not, then would move on to the soaps, the camping goods, and then to the garment section. He would be constantly vigilant in his search, but never dare to actively look unless he was looking for some other product. Hopefully the man would appear soon.

[Labyrinth]

The first crimson cloaked man was found in the clothing section, deep inside it between two shelves and turned out to be a slate gray Dorin. The cloak in question had a hood that was folded back down his broad shoulders and the rest of it covered a light cream tunic and gray leggings that melded with the Dorin's own fur, the tunic meanwhile covered by a long brown coat that reached to his mid-thighs.

He did not appear aware of Traian though, even when he turned to look at another rack of cloaks and shuffled one into his arms, a heavy dark red cloak with a wool lining. None the less as he turned the cloak over and over the second tell tale mark appeared, instead of fur across the Dorin's left paw there was a ragged burn scar, the skin stretched taut and the fur refusing to regrow. It was gone in an instant however as he kept turning the cloak over and over, hooded eyes studying it for imperfections.

His entire demeanor in fact seemed a mirror, if not better executed version of Traian's own seeming occupation as he discarded the cloak atop a rack and picked out another, this one brown with some kind of fur lining in black that he began to pick at with two claws, again, showing the scar on his left hand...although not obviously so.

[Traian C. Laitus]

Traian actually spotted the dorin on his second scan of the room, but thought it better to continue his plan until he reached the cloak section. It was very difficult to contain himself and to continue his act while the dorin stood directly behind him. Traian picked out a shirt, holding it over himself and checking the size before put it back with the others, apparently dissatisfied with anything the store had to offer. Turning to where the dorin was, his eyes lit up instantly, and his outer shell realized what it had been looking for all along. Not at all bashful in his approach, Traian took the couple of steps from where he was until he reached the rack of cloaks directly behind the dorin, such that they were side by side, facing opposite directions.

However, it did not take long to notice that Traian was still dissatisfied with what he saw. "You've got to be kidding. None of these match that outfit. Why did Vis get me such an odd-colored shirt?" At a loss, he turned about, looking hopefully around until he spotted the cloak in the dorin's hand, quickly noting the confirming mark of the scar on his left paw. Confident that this was indeed the B'ravl he was to meet, Traian's face shone with a look of discovery and self-satisfaction. Not at all daunted by the fact that the cloak was held by a rather large dorin who had a somewhat mean look about him, Traian took the only step left to be in front of the man and looked down to examine the cloak he was holding.

"Oh my, it seems you found the perfect one. It is indeed the perfect color, and I love the fur lining, hehe." He looked awkwardly at the dorin, not expecting any answer, but trying to read his face, clues that he was more than he let out. "I think I will have a look at it, thank you." He reached out with both hands to gently relieve the dorin of his burden. He seemed to try to avoid any inherently rude gesture, but happened to do so anyway. It wasn't terribly difficult to put on this guise, as he did so all the time. It was, in fact, the rudest of things he had done thus far, as he had always had at least the pretension of well-meaning. But this did not bother Traian in the least.

[Labyrinth]

“Indeed it is a fine specimen, the fur from some kind of great cat if I'm not mistaken, most odd but most fine as well.”

Came the decidedly deep and grave voice of the Dorin whom Traian knew only as B'ravl, smiling with disturbingly white teeth at Traian, this here was a Dorin who chewed his bones well. Now closer as Traian was though he could see that the scar on the back of the Dorin's hand was not the only one, indeed his entire form was covered in them here and there, small scars, large scars, some that seemed to be burns and others that were more cuts that had healed badly.

“You are, I presume, the one I was instructed to meet.” B'ravl commented more quietly but calmly, now studying another article of clothing. “Please purchase the cloak and wear it in two candlemarks time at the location that is stored in the cloaks' inside left pocket.”

Slowly removing another article of clothing the Dorin laid it over his arms and studied it carefully whilst still speaking, taking the opportunity to expertly turn and shake the cloak out, in the process ensuring they remained undisturbed, the clothing section consisting of enough low racks that anyone within hearing distance would be seen.

“I am simply an intermediary who has been asked to confirm that you receive the instructions given by providing them to you, I do not require confirmation and will now be leaving. Wait before you leave yourself.”

With that B'ravl began walking away, something about his tone...unhappy, angry perhaps even in his last sentence as he moved forwards towards the entrance, slinging the hood of his cloak up about his ears and hunching into it.

When Traian checked the cloak pocket though he found the following written in a different hand to the two letters on a scrap of parchment.

2 All-Tallow Street.

Haron's Wax.

Ask for high grade black wax.

Description of Haron's Wax for reference:

Situated just around the corner from the Private Trade Circle Haron's Wax was a simple two story building amidst a street of two story buildings, with no fronted window and a single wooden door. Within the shop consisted of nothing more than a single room seperated half way by a bench upon which, and behind which, stood all kinds of wax and tallow in candle form, solid form and in-production-form.

The back of the was accessible through the counter by a folding flap, although behind the flap at the moment stood an old man with a dirty apron, who appeared to be trying to melt a large lump of red wax with a candle. With whispy black hair – not very much of it – and focused blue eyes, he didn't appear to care about whether the door to the shop was open or closed.

[Traian C. Laitus]

The dorin was very strange, indeed, although he didn't seem to know much. His voice was particularly low, suiting his mysterious and very large figure well, and Traian noticed that he was very experienced concerning pain and probably battle, as scars and burn marks covered him all over. Nodding curtly to the dorin's statement about his identity as the one he was supposed to meet, Traian took one hard glance at B'ravl before shifting his body to stare at the cloak once again, holding it out in front of him and twisting his head only a fraction of an inch to let the dorin know he was still listening.

His instructions seemed simple enough. Traian would not check the cloak until he was safely out of sight of any persons, but tried it on for a second, feeling to make sure the parchment was indeed there. To his delight, he felt the crisp flatness of folded parchment in the pocket, and smiled, although outwardly, his smile was directed more towards the cloak and how handsome it looked on his impressive body. He looked at a nearby mirror, fixing the cloak here and there, and striking a few poses that most assuredly would have sent the girls running.

Towards him, that is...

B'ravl told him to wait a while until he bought the cloak, for the obvious reason of keeping the connection between them unknown. Traian already seemed to ignore the dorin, despite the fact that all his inward attentions were focused on his every word. He seemed disappointed, perhaps even angry, as he left. Perhaps he was upset that he was not the one going to the wax shop, that he was a mere intermediary. Traian grinned at the thought, ever more proud of the special treatment he believed the Masters to be giving him. Of course, he, in return, would give himself wholly to their purposes, and do all that was required of him... to a certain extent... For Traian now did not even know what it was the Masters wanted of him; but the time was fast approaching where it would likely be revealed.

Taking off the garment a few seconds after the dorin had left, Traian carried it over his shoulder and went over to look at the trousers. Now was the time to complete his outfit. At this point, he reverted back to his usual act, being jolly and enthusiastic at nearly everything that appeared before him, and acting appropriately stuck-up whenever opportunity presented itself. Thus, after another quarter of a candlemark or so, Traian left the shoppe with a new pair of dark brown trousers, a matching pair of low-reaching, hard leather boots, a pair of stockings, and a fur-lined cloak, and 30 crowns lighter.

He then proceeded back to his home, where he changed into the new suit, which included his recently purchased items as well as the fine brown cambrie Vis had bought him. Once geared up, he left, taking a quick glance at the note before departing. He burned the note and stomped it into the floor, making certain that it could never be read again, and went on his leisurely way.

Traian had actually never been to the wax shoppe, despite the candle's he used for light and other destructive purposes. Normally, they could be bought at the general store, and thus he had not thought of walking down to All-Tallow street. However, thanks to Traian's habit of wandering around the first couple of cycles in Nexus Prime, as well as his sharp memory, he knew precisely where it was. Being confident in this respect, he decided to walk the streets for another candlemark or so before heading there.

Just five minutes before the start of the candlemark, Traian stood outside of Haron's Wax. He carried quite a different tone about him than before, now out of his business suit for the first time in a while, and in a very much somber suit instead. Thus, his face portrayed the solemn look of a man who saw much more than what lay before him. His thoughts almost constantly flickered back and forth between what might lay within those doors and Cath. She had dominated his thought structure ever since he had opened the tear-stained note and remembered... something. It was not strong enough to be called a memory, but it was enough for the woman to remain the subject of his thoughts and the motif of every dream.

Walking into the building, Traian looked about for a moment or two. He seemed very relaxed and unhurried for a change, his new garb and attitude about the situation having an extremely noticeable effect on him. However, he doubted this mattered much, as his entire life was one fantastic charade. Traian eyed the man melting a lump of red wax behind the counter, but did not acknowledge his presence. The candle-maker returned the favor. Finally, after a good minute or two of looking around and getting acquainted with the building's structure, Traian walked up to the counter in front of the man.

"Excuse me. Do you have any high grade black wax available?"

[Labyrinth]

“Ah, its you.”

For a moment the man continued to hold the wax over the candle, then pinched it with two gnarled and heavily calloused fingers, replacing the wax block on the desk and reaching for a cloth to clean his hands off. As he did so he studied Traian with very keen, aware brown eyes and walked closer to the flap that separated them. Lifting the catch and opening it he then moved past Traian and slid the bolt across on the front door.

“Now we have privacy.” He explained. “Please follow me.”

And so Traian was led by an old, limping man with keen but aged brown eyes and very little hair through myriad piles of wax to a small door at the back of the shop. That in turn led to what appeared to be a working area, albeit not the room where the man ate and slept, there were stairs which presumably led up to that. There was at least two chairs in the cluttered working area though along with a cupboard that appeared to contain drinks from which the man extracted two surprisingly fine crystal tumblers and a bottle of something golden.

“Have a seat, you have of course, been expected and require information, which is what I am assigned to provide.”

After all who would suspect the old candle maker?

So, sitting next to his desk and offering Traian to do the same the man, with apparently no concern for his safety in Traian's presence, poured two generous helpings of golden-amber liquid and placed the decanter to one side atop a pile of parchment.

“I shall be your source of information and I do not need to know your name lad, simply call me Haron and I shall call you lad. Now, to begin with, do you have any questions before we continue?”

He inquired, taking a sip of his drink and closing his eyes before they opened again and studied Traian keenly. Perhaps therefore it was indicative to reflect upon the man's calm and collected attitude, or perhaps again it was not. He certainly seemed far more settled in what he was doing than the crimson Dorin had been, despite, unlike the Dorin, now having the physical disadvantage.

[Traian C. Laitus]

Watching as the man bolted the front door, Traian idly touched the piece of red wax, rubbing the residue between his fingers and bringing it to his nose to take a whiff. The man came back proclaiming their privacy now and let him past piles of wax to a door in the back of the shoppe. All the time, Traian felt oddly out of himself. He slowly grew accustomed to this new identity of his, the inner part of himself working out with baffling speed a customized list of habits, nuances, and other behavioral quirks that would make him who he was.

Thus, in obedience to his instinct, Traian walked rather nonchalantly, his left side slightly behind his right, and his head crooked a bit to the left, although his eyes darted everywhere seemingly searching for something. Haron led him through the door and into a working area, where he bade him sit and extracted from a cupboard two unnaturally fine glasses and a bottle of what Traian guessed was liquor. The man identified himself as one who was to provide information... So he was not a man of high status either, just another intermediary. But it seemed he, at least, had some information for him, as the dorin seemed to know little to nothing.

He offered Traian a glass of the amber liquid as he sat down at the desk which Traian accepted in his hand, but did not drink. Rather, he kept it in his right hand and leaned forward such that his arm balanced him on the desk. Tilting the glass in circles as the man spoke, Traian seemed to pay little attention, absorbed in the swirling of the liquid and glittering of the glass. However, his inner intelligence paid close heed to what the man was saying and, when asked if he had any questions, reflected a moment on whether he did.

Of course he had questions... But this offer to ask had been unexpected. Traian truly had not anticipated a question and answer session, but it seemed the Masters were very keen on politeness (thus their generous expression of gratitude in the letters) and accepting questions would, indeed, be the polite thing to do. Traian, despite being caught a bit off-guard, remained outwardly calm and even pretended not to have heard the man until he had extracted from his mind what seemed to him the most important question at the moment. And, indeed, the surfacing of this question surprised him, as he had expected his original identity to be the foremost question in his mind. But rather, the man asked Haron a question concerning another identity. One that he was unsure an answer would be given.

"Who are they?"

The question would be vague to anyone who did not realize the reference, but Traian was confident that Haron knew. He was a sharp man, betraying less intelligence than he kept to himself, he was sure. Traian did not know what he was allowed to know, but assumed that if his memory had been erased by the Masters, then they would not freely give him his original identity. Thus, he asked for the next best thing: their own.

[Labyrinth]

Haron smiled and sipped his drink, shivering slightly as the liquid settled on his throat and smacking his lips before putting it down again.

“I know exactly who they are and I know none of them.”

The old man admitted with a glint in his eyes.

“Rest assured over the Patterns I have seen the information I have helped gather and provide achieve great things for this city, whilst at the same time part of the agreement for both my sake and theirs is that I do not know their identity, I believe this is exactly the situation you are in – from what I have been told.”

The old man took the tumbler in both hands, lifted it and inhaled the scent, then replaced it on the desk, appearing unperturbed by Traian's lack of attention, as if he could read the younger lad's awareness as easily as Traian could read his own, folding his hands into his lap where they joined together.

“You do not know what you were, lad.” Heron shrugged. “I can tell you now before you ask that I do not know either and have no wish or need to know. All I know is I am to be your cut out, in the same way I have my own cut out and my own method to be sent messages, which I presume you have also?”

This question was asked carefully, clearly looking for some kind of response, once it was given Heron continued.

“That is how our Masters work lad, its important so they cannot be traced. It's also why you lost your memory if my guess is correct, you were close to them, perhaps even one of them, now you are merely yourself...you must have volunteered for this and therefore I must surmise your mission is of great importance.”

Heron smiled wryly.

“And I suspect you can guess some of their abilities after what they've done, they are very influential in Nexus Prime. Judging by your expression though, that is not your only question. I appreciate this process cannot be easy for you, but as I said, I must presume you volunteered so we are both in this situation together.”

With that he appeared ready for more before he got to the point of the meeting, unless this was the point.

[Traian C. Laitus]

The answer surprised Traian at first, he having thought for certain that the man in front of him was at least informed about who the Masters were if not one of them himself. But, as Haron continued speaking, it made sense. And the more he thought about it, the more absurd his original assumption seemed. Why should the Masters come out in this way, if they wanted to meet him? They already had means of communicating with Traian; two now, it seemed. It was better they risk less this way.

It was no surprise that Haron did not know nor would, if he did, tell Traian his origins. He had suspected such a reaction from the start, although his subconscious had vainly wished for it. What would be the point of erasing his memory and then telling him what he had forgotten relatively soon after the fact? It was simply illogical, and thus unfitting for the Masters.

Resettling himself in the chair, Traian took one hard look into Haron's eyes when he asked if he had a method to receive messages. However, Traian said nothing, finding silence more comfortable. He was still not sure if he fully trusted Haron, despite the knowledge he seemed to have of how the Masters worked. He was indeed very perceptive, and discerned much just from a few minutes spent with Traian. And it seemed he had thought long and hard about the other's mission, as he offered a variety of theories which seemed both plausible and even appealing to Traian. Being a the point-man in a "mission of great importance" was a generous title indeed.

Haron had done it again. Traian had been fully confident that his question would be the only one allowed before the point of the meeting was reached. The candle-maker surprised him with an intuition that surpassed anything Traian had ever experienced. It was as if the old man had probed into his mind and was now playing games to experiment, curious as to what would happen in each unsuspected scenario. As a token of admiration, Traian let a thin smirk crawl up his right cheek. He was good.

"You are correct." Traian brought the glass to directly beneath eye level, staring Haron down just above the edges of it. Twisting it either which way, Traian put on a good show of unusual mannerisms. "Who are you? And who was that dorin, B'ravl, that tipped me off at Ty'raa's? And another thing..." Traian progressively raised his voice, although it could not be said that he came overly close to a shout by the end. His next sentence, in contrast, was calm and collected. "What is the cloak for?"

After another second or two of intense connection between himself and Haron, Traian dropped his eyes once again, seemingly distracted by the variety of candles about the room. He rather enjoyed this game.

[Labyrinth]

Seemingly impartial to the situation and Traian's reactions to it as Heron was it was impossible to tell whether he took the younger man's facade's of indifference and consequent raised voice seriously, or whether it just didn't matter at all. Either way he nodded to the questions asked and ran a fingertip around the edge of his own glass, not looking at it but watching Traian.

“Last question first lad since it may be the easiest, it was the method by which I was to identify that you had indeed met your contact. I was informed as to what it would be by courier inbetween your meeting with him and meeting with you now.” The old man shrugged his shoulders slowly, almost painfully and winced a moment as if a muscle had been pulled out of joint. His fingertip stopped tracing the glass and he squeezed the hand shut for a moment then opened it again, flexing each digit and staring at it accusingly before continuing.

“As for...urm...” Haron frowned. “The Dorin?” He inquired. “Brav'l? If that was the name you were given for the contact then so be it. I don't get told such things and.” Haron looked firmly at Traian. “I do not wish to know such things. Please understand that. He was probably hired or owed someone a favour. Now we come to the final question, who am I.”

At this Haron stood and gathered up his drink before walking towards the cupboard again. Instead of opening it and extracting anything though he simply opened it and stared inside, at something that was out of Traian's eyesight because of the angle they were seated at.

“I am a patriot lad. I do what I do for my people and make no illusions about ethics. As far as you are concerned I am Haron of Haron's Wax, a simple shop keeper and wax maker who also dabbles in a few other services to the rich to aid my modest and quite satisfactory living. Alongside my patriotism.”

The old man closed the cupboard with a gnarled hand and turned back to Traian, his expression blank as he shook his head and walked over to sit down again, cupping the tumbler in both hands in his lap and looking straight at the younger man.

“I am, aside from that, simply your cut out lad. Nothing more or less. I have been told that you have obtained a job which, I have been also informed to tell you was quite a stroke of luck given the anticipation that it would take you a long time to climb so high. And.”

Putting the tumbler aside he opened the bench they were sitting beside and extracted, almost magically from somewhere within, a pair of envelopes.

“I was told to give you these.”

He passed them across. Again the first was written in the hand of the masters;

To whom it is handed,

In regards to your exceptional progress you are directed to continue your work for your employer, the position you have acquired being most satisfactory to conditions.
It is also known that your employer will meet Abluto within the cycle.
You are to be present at that meeting and are to deliver a report as to its contents in written form to the person you are now meeting, he will ensure it reaches us.

Thank you.

The second in the angular hand of Cath:

Brother,

So many congratulations on your achievements to date, you make me so proud. Know that I am thinking of you and watching you and that I wish you the very best.

C.