RP:Larket Tourist
Summary: Krice comes to Larket with seemingly innocent intentions. After a brief talk with civilians, he is met by the mage, Wendell, who escorts him to The Academy of Magics per offer of a tour.
Larket Town Square
The square, in stark contrast to its previous appearance, is beautiful and well maintained. Streets from the north, south, and west, cobbled smoothly, encircle a small area of land here, where grass and flowers grow. A small stone gazebo sits in the center of the square, raised a fair distance from the ground by marble steps, so that the structure can serve as a stage for public announcements. A board is fastened to its side, pulled from the wreckage of the old square. Vendors line the roads, selling a variety of wares ranging from food to clothes. East of the square stands a sturdy building of stone, its entrance guarded by armed men in Larket's livery.
Krice hadn't been back to this bridge since... roughly around the time of the battle between Frostmaw and Larket. Years had passed and repairs led to more travel, fresh guards manned its posts, and he saw very little if any hint that a violent encounter had even occurred here. The warrior's gait was relaxed but purposeful, naturally stealthy. Strapped to his back with the hilt visible past his left shoulder was a white katana, dormant, not threatening. If the guards didn't see fit to stop him at least for that, he'd dip his head to greet them as he passed into the city, his sensitive ears attuned to the populace to pick up gossip and information.
Macon || The Larketian Guards trained to man the bridge to Sage Forest have specific procedures to follow should certain known, powerful individuals enter The Hard City by way of her main entrance and egress. The enigma known as Krice is one of those individuals. He is spotted when he is halfway across the bridge and those procedures are launched immediately. That keen hearing of his might hear the hushed conversation between a pair of guards, with one telling the other to ‘inform Fort Freedom.’ Magical communication from the eastern guardpost is relayed through The Larketian Academy of Magics to a spellcaster on duty at the fort, and that game of telephone continues while Krice moves through Larket with his ear to the people. The rumor mill in the city is churning with talk of a secret meeting between former King of Vailkrin Kasyr Azakhaer and Macon Jauzon, though what was discussed in that meeting is speculated on wildly, and if a theory could be imagined, it exists on someone’s lips in Larket right now. On the economic front, the market for Larketian stone is thriving with the rebuild in Frostmaw creating high demand for building materials across Lithrydel, and trade between Vailkrin and The Hard City has recently paused. The general feel in the city however, matches what King Macon would have the rest of Lithrydel believe. Larket is thriving. The people feel safe and insulated from the disasters that plague the rest of the realm, and the day is a peaceful, normal one…
Krice either pretended not to hear the Guards' communication or he wasn't fussed about it; he could harken their watchfulness to any number of things, from his involvement in the war years ago to paranoia they might have been suffering. Not to mention, the Fort collapsed on top of him during Josleen and Macon's wedding so maybe that stuck in their minds. Whatever the case, his focus was more honed in on the citizenry. Sensitive to the presence of magic, he simultaneously tracked any signatures that would lead him to believe that illusions or otherwise marked the area. Latching onto the open conversation of a trio of citizens, the warrior politely asked, " Kasyr was here?" Though he wasn't dressed in fine clothing or possessing a haircut more befitting a man of his battle prowess, the enigma didn't stand out as lower class, either; his shoulders square, his chin aloft, he was confident in himself without the ugliness of arrogance. Hopefully it would be enough to encourage them to talk to him.
Macon || There is no detectable illusory magic to be found while Krice walks through the city’s main thoroughfare, aside of course the work of glamor mages on some of the more well off citizens that move about town. However the notice board at the center of town is the location of a more conventional means of deception. The various announcements from around Lithrydel regarding Quintessa Blackwell and her attack on the mayor of Cenril are posted, with the exception of the notice from Cenril. Even the anti-Larketian message from Saorsa Cladatch is posted. Of the group that Krice approaches, one man nods and opens up the triangular gathering for the enigma to join them, “Yeah! My buddy Greg saw him getting escorted through the city to Fort Freedom. He left about an hour later. Was a few days ago. I heard Kasyr is leaving the Mage Guild and joining The Academy.” There are a few other townfolk now taking notice of Krice, and a bit of low chatter grows into a bit of concern. ‘He was an enemy.’ ‘In a relationship with a witch.’ Time before some Larketian official arrives on the scene is probably running low now…
Krice tilted his head at a subtle angle, pleased to find the citizens so receptive to his curiosity. He stepped in once invited, standing just outside the other male's reach with his hands in his pockets and a thoughtful gaze levelled on the eyes across from it. The less friendly chatter beginning to bubble amongst other people festered in his ears like an expedited itchy infection, and he knew his time here was limited. Keeping his conversation casual with the three before him, hoping to maintain their focus, the warrior asked, " The Academy? D'you know why he's joining?"
Macon || A woman in the trio answers Krice, “He’s probably sick of all the awful archmages they are appointing. Isn’t he stronger than all of them? Why does he get passed over?” The man who first spoke to the swordsman chimes in, “He is a vampire though…” and frowns, “I heard he was having an affair with one of the sorceresses that work on the magic detectors at the academy, and that’s why he wants to join.” The third member of the group then jumps in for the first time, “Wasn’t he captured here a while back when The Tower kidnapped that kid? I bet The King made a secret deal with him back then. Xalious has been a mess for a long time.” There’s a shift in the air then and an overweight man in mage robes can be seen hovering in the air above the town square, the mark of The Larket Royal Guard on his chest. Krice might recognize Wendell from his participation in the war against Frostmawian aggression at the bridge to the south all those years ago. The dark haired wizard spots the enigma in the crowd and just watches, floating high above still, most of the people in the square not taking notice yet. That, or he’s just such a familiar sight here that they don’t pay him any mind.
Krice could not imagine Kasyr with a woman. He didn't want to. He wasn't going to try to, either. Apart from that momentarily bemusing tidbit, he wasn't getting anything of substance from this trio, more gossip than information, and he could feel his focus on them lessening - but instinct told him that his interest was drawn from them to something else. He hadn't even realized it as it happened, but while they spoke, he looked up toward the center of town to find his gilded eyes locked on the hovering mass of a figure. Wendell wasn't familiar at first, but given the warrior's thoughtfulness of his involvement in the Bridge Battle many years earlier, it didn't take his mind long to trigger a memory. A little twitch of lashes was it all it took, but Wendell would probably be able to tell that Krice was looking. They were watching each other. At his back, a refined older woman passed the enigma and didn't stop, but she offered him an appreciative smile and murmured, " My, you're pretty." She continued on her way and he dismissed the pseudo-compliment in favour of talking to the trio once more. Xalious was indeed a mess, but, " Larket seems to be thriving. What would you attribute that to? D'you think Kasyr's dangerous?"
Macon || The first man that welcomed Krice into their conversation responds, “Of course he’s dangerous. He’s a vampire. Did you see The Titan of Winter summoned a giant bug to eat his opponent in that last fight? That’s -vampire- magic.” The woman chimes in about Larket’s prosperity, “Our King and Queen are brilliant. They understand what matters to us. That’s why we are doing so well. Unlike the rest of the world being led by those savages.” The first man comes in again, “And we have the blessing of Vakmatharas. You don’t see any of this awful stuff happening here and in Vailkrin. He protects us.” The third guy just rolls his eyes at the zealotry. Meanwhile Wendell starts descending to the ground. Anyone who hasn’t noticed him does now. Light footfalls bring him over to the group speaking as the people in the square part for him. “Krice?” His voice is purposely gentle as he calls out. “That is you. We have not seen you in Larket for -some time-. Is there anything I can help you with finding today?” His tone is overly cordial, but the meaning underneath is clear, ‘We are watching. What are you up to here?’
Krice wasn't keen on Wendell's approach. With the way people parted to invite him closer, they'd be watching who his attention was on - namely, their focus would follow it to him. " Vampires -are- dangerous, mhm," he mumbled to the first man. " Good thing King Macon is strong enough to protect the city should anything happen. And of course, Josleen - in all her beauty and grace, wow." The warrior nodded to the trio after delivering his hopefully disarming monologue to round them and approach Wendell before he could insert himself in their little group. " Hey," he replied. " I wanted to see how things are going up here. Heard Larket's thriving and, as you say, I haven't been here for a while, so." The warrior didn't look overly concerned about the mage's presence, certainly not noticeably to the citizens of Larket, but Wendell might be able to tell that he wasn't as relaxed with him as he had been with the trio. " I don't recall seeing you floatin' around before. That a new trick?"
Macon || The three Larketians nod in agreement with Krice before his attention is wrested away by Wendell. The large mage smiles and tilts his head, “One must never stop learning and growing, and The Academy of Magics is the best place in Lithrydel for one to do just that. I am more capable now than ever to protect my king.” A mystical wave of the wizard’s hand presents the north of Larket to Krice, “We are indeed thriving. I imagine that might be evident from the outside. Though you in the Warrior’s Guild might be a bit distracted with all that mess on the mountain… I could provide a short tour if you like. Perhaps to The Academy? Or the Temple of The Death God?” His features darken comically, “The Sacrifice Area?” Then he brightens back up again, “Or were you seeking an audience with The King? You aren’t on any of our schedules, you see.”
Krice followed Wendell's gesture to the north of the city and then let his eyes scan inward, across the faces of the citizenry. Some of them were watching as they passed and others didn't care. It was nice to not hear anything negative about witches, though; rumors or gossip of his role in their Bridge-war, he could take it. Krice was not on the schedules, so, " Therefore, I'm not seeking an audience with anyone." Nodding to indicate the city at large, he said, " You wanna give a tour, sure. I'm interested to learn more about The Academy, actually."
Academy of Magics
Settled in a clearing just inside the dense forest a weathered stone cathedral rises; its dull grey walls cloaked in ivy. The first thing noticed upon stepping through the colossal doorway is the high , vaulted ceiling overhead, supported by a series of ornate arches and buttresses. Tall narrow windows line the top of the great hall beyond the portal, casting a mixture of light and shadow about the structure which both illuminates beautifully sculpted stone angels and shrouds the rough-hewn leers of demons. The establishment seems somewhat altered; not entirely possessing the features of a true cathedral, it appears this one has been re-built to serve another purpose. Instead of the usual pews, desks; carved from massive oak and pine, take up the centre of the room. Upon each rests a simple inkwell containing scarlet ink, together with a handsome raven-feather quill. The western side of the hall is taken up with an entire section of remarkably high bookcases; filled from side to side, floor to ceiling with exquisitely preserved tomes and scrolls of varying origin and context. To one trained in magic, the subtle violet shimmer surrounding them would be simple to interpret as protection from the tooth of time and the touch of mother nature. To the east lies a third section, this one being taken up by comfortable crimson coloured satin chairs and skillfully polished oak tables- surrounding a single, massive fireplace embellished with golden runes; evidently for more relaxed conversations and discussions amongst the order residing here. A set of stairs leads up from the far end of the room to an alcove in the wall, where high-backed chairs reside around a large table, the dark wood inlaid with intricate ivory detail. Clearly, this area is reserved for the leaders of these halls. An errant breeze dances through one of the windows, the banners which hang from the ceiling rippling gently in its wake. Upon closer inspection, they would be revealed to be constructed of silk, bearing no other marking than five silver circles upon the dark violet background. This place seems to be a facility of learning and wisdom, a sanctuary for scholars and magicians.
Macon || Wendell nods, “Of course,” and starts moving north towards the academy. His feet lift off the ground only about an inch or two, but do not come back down to earth as he hovers weightlessly across the city, leading the way. “We experienced some difficulties here following the events in Xalious where The Tower failed in their duties to protect the holy tree.” Eventually they arrive at the magical college and enter the main building. Holographic signs light the way towards the different departments and laboratories, with magical detection and conjuration magics being the two that this place is most well known for.
Krice walked at a comfortable distance from Wendell, well outside his reach but still within a reasonable bubble for conversation. For how silent his footfalls were, he might as well have been hovering like the mage did. Though he moved deeper into the city, more flanked by potential enemies than he'd have liked, the warrior seemed relaxed enough; he hadn't come here to cause trouble. Their trek along the roads and grassy pathways was smooth without incident or obstruction. As they came upon their destination, the enigma looked up to scrutinize the structure with evident interest, and he could already sense the magic at work within - and around it. " What kind of difficulties? Did the magic here weaken?" He knew of the trouble with the trees, particularly the Eternal Tree in Kelay. Once inside the Academy, Krice reached across to scratch idly at an itch on his left wrist, briefly disturbing the metal bangle there. Gilded eyes scanned the signs illuminating each different department, 'magical detection' of particular interest. He looked around for anything remotely related to witches, or even warlocks, while awaiting Wendell's answer to his query.
Macon || “Indeed.” Wendell nods. Larket with the breadth of time, effort, and knowledge that they’ve put into their magical detection research and technology, was perhaps the region with the deepest understanding of the effects that the poisoning of The Xalious Tree had on magic across the realm. “After the first attack on the tree we were able to detect a decrease in magical energy across Lithrydel… and for about five minutes following the second attack, arcane magic was dead for about five minutes. We’re lucky it was only that long. I heard there was a follower of Vakmatharas involved in the restoration of both holy trees, actually…” He leaves out that the same follower of The Death God was one of the poisoners in the first place though. Wendell catches Krice’s wandering eye falling on the witchcraft research department and takes the liberty of leading the way northward to it…
Witchcraft Research Department
The Larketian Academy of Magic leads Lithrydel on the obscure subject of witchcraft. The Witchcraft Research Department is arranged on the ground floor of an Academy turret that was once primary used for lycanthropy research. The space has been re-purposed for more modern concerns. In the center of the circular floor is a spacious, clean laboratory filled with witchcraft artifacts, both items that aid in witchcraft spells, and items already enchanted by witches. Mage researchers perform tests on these items to discover how witchcraft differs from arcane, druidic, and divine magic.
Encircling the laboratory are several offices, a topical library, and three smaller observation rooms for witchcraft in action with appropriate wards to prevent catastrophic accidents.
A staircase tucked against the wall descends to the witchcraft detection radar room.
Krice tried to ensure that he looked everywhere and gave equal weight to each department, lest his attention draw Wendell's. He couldn't help but consider the trajectory toward the Witchcraft Research Department to be... interesting at least. Rather than focus on that, he opted for some honesty related to the Trees. " Sorry. I tried to stop it. I've heard the rumours about the involvement of a Vakmatharas follower, yeah." A beat. " At least they've been restored. Is magic back to normal? No permanent effects?" He scanned the room as he spoke, his attention lingering on the bookshelf. Undoubtedly there were interesting tomes arranged on the tiers, and he distracted his focus from the experimentation of witchcraft items by trying to read the titles from here. His eyesight was sharp enough to register them at this distance, but were the titles at the right angle to allow him?
Macon || Wendell raises a hand to his chin pensively and shakes his head, “That I don’t know. I’m sure we could find someone here working on it that is more familiar. If you’d like.” The fat mage looks around the witchcraft research department pridefully. The tomes on the shelves vary greatly. There are some primary texts, created by and used by witches, that have been confiscated or otherwise procured for the Academy’s use, as well as research texts, many authored by faculty here, detailing the nature and aspects of witchcraft and those who make use of it. “I imagine there is more knowledge of witchcraft here than there is in all the covens in Lithrydel combined. The evils of witchcraft…” Wendell’s gaze narrows towards Krice, “...and witches have no place to hide from the light of Larket’s intelligence.”
Krice didn't look back at Wendell as he spoke, but there was a nod just twice in acknowledgment of the words; once when he offered to 'find out more' about potential lasting effects to magic accessibility following the Trees incident, and second when he mentioned the evils of Witchcraft. The light of Larket's intelligence... " Could I borrow a couple?" The warrior's eyes were cool when at last he glanced back toward the plump mage, gesturing with his right hand at the bookshelf. " Looks interesting. I'd like to learn more."
Macon || “I’m afraid not without enrolling.” The soft spoken voice is carried on an unnatural wind through the department from the entrance to the main area of The Academy. A young half-elven man with light blonde hair steps in, full white robes with Larketian purple and gold trim draped over his slender form. This is the headmaster of the academy, Percival. “If there’s anything you wish to know, I’m sure I could have things researched and a copy made up for you, but the full texts must remain here.” The man carries himself with a subtle confidence and Krice may be able to sense that beneath that calm face there lies an incredible amount of magical power and skill. If it were in his nature, this man could be very dangerous, but he in no way gives off that vibe. In fact, it almost seems like he detests setting foot in this part of his institution. In witchy circles, there is hearsay that Percival is a secret advocate for witches and shields those enrolled in The Academy from the descrimination of Larket proper. In addition to that, there were several rumors surrounding the Battle of The Bridge that Headmaster Percival was present in Larket, but chose not to fight that day, instead hanging back to protect the students should any invaders make it into the city. What is regarded as a Larketian victory that day could have been a lopsided one had this magical prodigy intervened. Wendell gives reverence to his headmaster and former teacher, and backs away from Krice slightly more so than before…
Krice didn't turn his head toward that new voice immediately, but once Wendell reacted, he followed suit. Pivoting on the ball of his left booted foot, the enigma turned to face Percival and was immediately aware of the power held by the other male; it was rife in the atmosphere around him, and also familiar. They had shared a few transient, peripheral encounters over the years, though all of them before the earthquake that practically destroyed the city. With Wendell casually withdrawing, the enigma lifted his chin to greet Percival and remained where he was, speaking about the books. " I don't know what all's there, but I'd like to look, some time. Maybe take you up on that offer." To have pages copied.
Macon || Percival nods while Wendell fades into the background, his duties as a tour guide ending and his true task of keeping tabs on Krice while he’s in the city resuming. “Of course.” The Headmaster speaks, “Perhaps you can schedule an appointment at a later date with our department head.” The half-elf’s light blue eyes shift back and forth slowly, no doubt tracing out magical threads from the equipment in the room with his unique gift of sight. “Forgive me if you’ve already told Wendell, but what has brought you out here to us today?” He pauses before adding, “Fort Freedom is in a bit of a state since your arrival, I understand,” with a smile, but his tone is subtle and forewarning that the level of unease in Macon’s castle might soon become untenable, and Krice might want to weigh the pros and cons of staying in Larket for much longer…
Krice nodded. Scheduling an appointment would help him allot some time to not only study the books in this Department, but put forth the request for some of the pages to be copied - if he found anything worth the trouble. He idly reached across the scratch at his wrist a second time, the first before Percival, but then his movements were still. He weighed the pros and cons of even entering this city to begin with, so as Percival reiterated his tour guide's query after his presence here, the enigma considered it time to leave. Wendell was harmless compared to Percival, he could tell just by their energies alone - and Wendell wasn't a pushover. Hardly nervous, certainly not shifty, the warrior reiterated his answer, " I came to see how Larket was doing. It's been years since I was here." Acknowledging Fort Freedom, the warrior's expression shifted to sincere peacekeeping in relation to his words. " I'm not here to cause trouble." The white katana on his back was unlike any in existence, custom-made, longer than others, and completely white; even the blade hidden behind the scabbard. If he wanted to, he could have caused a lot of damage with it to this city as he ventured through. " The department head, you said?" He looked over, his gaze passing through the seemingly unseen tendrils of magic to search for such a person. " Thanks, I'll do that." If Percival did not seek to keep the warrior, he would depart with a respectful nod to find the person in question, that he might schedule a time to return and indulge in the knowledge of the tomes stored here.
Macon || Percival nods again slowly. “Yes. Of course. But I’m sure you know how our king can be.” He lets that hang in the air for a second with a smile before adding, “His duty is to be overly protective of His people.” When Krice goes looking for the Witchcraft Research Department Head there is a bit of confusion, followed by some back and forth and bureaucratic rigmarole that goes on until one of the students working on a witchy artifact finally speaks up, “Oh… He’s not here right now. He’s on holiday in Chartsend for the next two weeks. I thought you guys knew.” There’s about twenty more minutes of the swordsman being ping-ponged between people before he is put in front of someone who can actually schedule an appointment for him. Once that is all squared away, they inform the enigma that he will hear from them to confirm the appointment in a couple days once it has gone through the foreign approval process within Fort Freedom. “Is magical sending okay?” the student setting up the appointment asks, “Or would you prefer we send a hard copy?”
Krice was a patient man but he didn't expect quite so much back-and-forth just to set up an appointment. What was wrong with these people? Bureaucracy. Paperwork. Too much power at the top. At the beginning of his rigmarole, he turned to pass Percival a farewell nod, appreciative of his time and direction - and maybe even the perceived dig at the King. True to his word, the warrior was completely harmless as he stood waiting for the students and staff to sort out his request, despite how long it took. It felt like he had spent more time waiting for an appointment than he had talking to Wendell and Percival. Regarding the student who at last could assist him, Krice said, " Hard copy, to Kelay Tavern. I'll return as soon as I get it. Thanks." If the student didn't need to keep him for anything, the warrior would dismiss himself and leave this damnable Department behind. Soundless and relaxed was his departure from the Stone City, but he was a little more vigilant with the knowledge of Fort Freedom's discontent at his back.