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028 » Thirsty motherfuckers return to their roots

[On the whole, life hasn't changed that much for Severian since the death of the archbishop. Researchers that lock themselves away with musty tomes are somewhat disconnected from the world as a whole. That's not to say it hasn't changed at all, of course — Ser Aymeric is far less keen on defeating death, and his funding has been cut significantly as a result. This has Severian forced to do something he dreads:

Take requests.

Hopefully, that's what he'll be doing today. An old schoolmate approached him vaguely asking to talk privately after service, and while he would usually decline (he doesn't have time to chat!), when the request comes from a son of one of the high houses it seems prudent to agree. Though he always got on with Francel well enough, he can't imagine that this visit isn't related to his field of work. Even Severian's heard the gossip about him going to stand at Haurchefant's grave on a daily basis. He agrees readily and leads Francel back to his modest room, inviting him to sit while he brews some tea.]

How can I help you, Lord Francel?

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[francel nods, solemnly, as he sips once more from his teacup.]

...Of course, Father. Thank you... for your assistance.

[a brief pause. francel is, evidently, thinking of the same thing] Should I wait for you at my home, or should we leave for Skyfire Locks together? It... may look odd for a man such as yourself to... pay a house-visit.

[That prompts the smallest of smiles from him. He's trying awfully hard to not say what an unsociable grump Severian is, isn't he?]

I do not make a habit of leaving the city, but I can craft a plausible enough reason to visit Camp Dragonhead. You may have to wait a few days for me after that, but I will make my way to you as soon as possible.

[It shouldn't be difficult. Severian is certain that the people in Camp Dragonhead fret over Francel on a frequent enough basis that it wouldn't be too terribly unusual for him to pay a visit while he was already out of the city. He's never been all that social, but he did tutor Francel a bit when they were attending seminary.]

You can go ahead and return to Skyfire Locks. It wouldn't do to have people getting curious about why we left together.

Yes... of course. Thank you again, Father Severian.

[several days later — long after francel leaves ishgard for skyfire locks, and has forgotten the taste of severian's tea — francel is waiting in his home, dutifully adding wood to the fire. his knights are out on patrol. the necrologos waits like guilt in a locked chest hidden behind some of the boxes in his home. just having it is dangerous, he knows. but what else could he do? disposing of it in a less discreet manner would only make the criticism of house haillenarte more believable.

he wonders if this is the day father severian will arrive.]

[Straigthening out his affairs in the city and coming up with a plausible reason to visit both Camp Dragonhead and then Skyfire Locks takes time — time that he would rather spend studying the tome! Thankfully, most people outside of academic circles don't really know a blessed thing about him, so it's easy enough to get people to think he's a nice, concerned priest during his visit. No one will bother to talk much when he drops by to visit an old schoolmate that's been having a hard time. Since that heresy fiasco any priest visiting Francel is worth gossiping about a little bit, unfortunately. But so long as they can plausibly believe that he's mostly checking up on him, it's fine.

Severian's arrival is heralded by the angry squawking of the chocobo he's trying to get settled all by himself. He's never been good at handling animals. Riding a chocobo is one thing, but taking off its tack and brushing the snow off of it is another entirely. It's made even more difficult by the fact that he's wearing so many layers that he basically looks like a marshmallow...]

[the telltale sounds of a chocobo squawking outside his door alerts francel to his guest's arrival. francel opens his door carefully, a letter-opener in hand to ward off attacks — but he relaxes once he sees that it's only severian, and a rather ridiculously bundled severian, at that. francel tries to hide his laughter.]

Father Severian! Please, come in. It is a warmer day than most, you know; you need not have worn so heavy a coat...

[seeing severian's problem — namely, a lack of experience — francel reaches out to take the chocobo by its reins. it settles once in his hands. if there's one thing haurchefant managed to teach me, it was how to ride...]

It was easier than packing them up again, [he grumps, taking his bags before fully relinquishing the chocobo to Francel. In truth, he just bundled up because he's a city boy with city sensibilities. Scholars like Ryan rarely have to move far from a fire. He waits for Francel to get the chocobo settled, then he turns toward the door proper.]

After you.

[Even if Francel told him to head inside, he feels like it's a little rude to go charging in first to shake off the snow.]

[once the bird is secured to the wood-house that doubles as a chocobo stable for francel's home, the young lord beckons his guest inside.]

Please... close and lock the door behind you.

[he lowers his voice even further as he waits for severian to relax.]

...The Necrologos is in my room.

[He doesn't have to be told twice to lock the door. Severian is under no illusions about what would happen if someone barged in on them while he was leafing through such a dangerous tome with someone that's already been accused of heresy once. It takes him awhile to strip down to his indoor clothes, and though most people would probably wear something more casual when traveling, Severian's just wearing the same priest's vestments he would wear in the city.

It's because he doesn't have any other clothes. He really just doesn't care about fashion at all.]

...in your room? Have you been having nightmares?

Well, there was nowhere else to keep it...

[francel shakes his head, readjusting severian's coat on its hook by the door. his one comfort is that, since inquisitor guillaime was removed from his post, brigie is the only inquisitor for the entire dragonhead area, and she must be busy with the weekly rites about now.]

...I have, but — no different from my usual dreams.

[Severian shoots him a slightly suspicious look. Well, once he gets a feel for the tome, he'll have to make sure Francel hasn't been enthralled by it. He takes a few steps further into his home, toward where he assumes his bedroom is.]

Let's have a look at it, shall we?

[After that he can see about getting something warm to drink — and getting a good look at Francel.]

[francel nods. he leads severian into the mixed bedroom-kitchen-reception desk, and then for the crates and the chest where he has been keeping the necrologos. he removes it gingerly from its prison and lays it on the desk for severian to inspect.

it is not encased in chains, nor does it emit a dark aura. it is simply a slim leather-bound tome with an eerily blank, black cover.]

Here it is. I assure you, it is the genuine article.

[The size of Skyfire Locks is somewhat... oppressive. He hasn't even seen a proper bathroom! Do they just use the outhouse and boil water to pour into a wooden tub? How horrifying.

Thankfully, the tome takes his attention from the somewhat lacking accommodations. He drags his fingers over the inky black surface. Strangely, he doesn't feel any real darkness from it. Chances are any defenses it has will activate once it's opened.]

Is there an area nearby blocked off from sight? I need to open this, but it may... fight.

[He'll wait until nightfall either way. Anything to minimize their chances of getting caught.]

Oh — yes, actually!

There is a sort of corridor just behind my home — it is surrounded by cliffs on all sides, so it is perfect for outdoor privacy. [he seems oddly pleased to think of it.] I often use the area to practice my archery. It should suit your needs.

[with nothing else to occupy himself, francel shoots an anxious glance at the book and tries to think of something to do.]

Ah... would you care for some tea?

Please. It's good to hear you have a sheltered area, but it would be prudent to wait until after nightfall anyway.

[Severian is just a wee bit paranoid, but it serves them in this case. He lifts his hand from the tome and glances around the room.]

It... may take a few days to fully unravel this. Do you have any other facilities...?

[Or will he be sleeping in his coats on the floor? He can handle that, he just wants to know.]

[francel is, well... just a wee bit worried. he hadn't thought of where severian might stay! and it's not as though he can just allow severian to stay at camp dragonhead like he usually does with his guests — not when the priest is going to handle contraband for him.]

Er... I'm afraid this is really the most comfortable building for our needs at present. The other Locks are occupied by farming families. I do have additional blankets and pillows, if you require any...

I see.

[His tone is clearly displeased, but he’s not going to shamelessly complain about the accommodations to someone from one of the high houses. That seems crass even for him.]

My coats should be enough to sleep in, thank you — but I would appreciate the pillows.

[His back is likely to be killing him after a single night...]

Yes... yes, I shall provide our best...

[which is still not great, by the cushy standards of ishgard, but... well. it's the best he has. after a moment, francel looks around, and lowers his voice so that no one could possibly listen in past the howling gale.]

...What do you intend to do with the book once night falls?

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