[closed] No longer are we hunted! We shall never again / Be prey, waiting to be struck down!

[faithlikeaseed]

WHO: Araceli Bonaventura, Wren Coupe, Myrobalan Shivana, Simon Ashlock
WHAT: Intrigue and sabotage as Chantry scholars debate the Canticle of Shartan's inclusion in the canon. (In pursuit of the "Absolute Shartanty" Chantry Relations mission.)
WHEN: [waves hands vaguely] before the Tournament
WHERE: Val Royeaux
NOTES: Will be added as need be.

Sister Aleya is a small woman and a nervous one, not at all the image of a liberal crusader bent on returning Shartan's canticle to the canon as she fidgets with her fingers before the Inquisition security team. Nevertheless: Here she is, the lynchpin of scholarship the whole argument rests upon. Her painstaking reconstruction of older, fragmented versions of the text of the Canticle bear strong resemblance to validated work in the first Justinia's own hand--resemblance she thinks could beat claims it was a later addition to the body of the Chant. She has made clear the import of her work--briefly--before launching into the meat of her complaint:

"Someone has been into my room to go through my effects. They've taken my latest manuscript and defaced copies of my older work-- The latter I can send for, but the former is irreplacable--I hadn't time to copy it before the conference, there's never enough time..."

With two templars in the group, of course she addresses herself to them--though things are so uncertain with the Order, aren't they? And the other side of the argument may have more legitimate claim to what aid exists from that quarter-- But they are familiar, at least in a way the rifter and the mage are not.

The implications of the stolen manuscript are dire: Without other copies, she says, it could be altered to throw her entire body of work under a pall and she'd be with no recourse to repair her reputation in the scholarly community. That, more than losing the chance to reconcile Shartan's memory, seems to upset her most--even more than the item she adds as an afterthought,

"And, sers, I have heard things that make me fear for my own life."

A scholar's line of work isn't so risky until one turns up something a more powerful faction would rather remain buried. The manuscript must be retrieved; the mind behind it-- Well, it would do the Inquisition no good to gain the reputation they can't support allies of the slain Divine, would it?

Comments

[foxsays]

"If you'll excuse me?" Unfortunate as it is that there's been a theft, for their little group it's fortunate that Araceli's along for this since this is her line of work, even if they don't know it. (Ser Coupe might, Araceli doesn't know all that she knows about those about her but there's more to her than just Templar, and even if Araceli doesn't announce her life, she doesn't shy away from it as if it's a thing to be hidden, shameful and unclean. Pieces that might've been put together.)

One less person for a woman upset as it is to have to put too much focus on as she starts looking for anything that might have been disturbed, careful not to touch anything herself outside of latches. Quiet about it. Professional.

And over her shoulder, soft enough that it might be to the group so as not to disturb, "Someone would have to follow, it's the smartest thing to do with anyone to avoid being caught. To case where you want to rob."

In her professional opinion.

GMs a bit here!

[faithlikeaseed]

The room has not been tossed; the sister's possessions, stored with a fussy precision, have not--for the most part--been rifled through. The only standouts are a pair of near-identical wooden chests, too large for one person to comfortably move alone, that stand aside with their locks forced. Someone made an effort to fit the broken things together--not much of an effort, but an effort all the same. On the bed, a fan of defaced parchments, looking as though the Sister herself placed them there; the neat, minuscule writing upon them obscured by wide meaningless swipes of black ink, still slightly tacky to the touch.

For his part, Myr's been standing mostly silent in the back, taking careful mental note of what's said and interjecting here or there--politely, though always with a little leashed excitement behind the words--to ask a question of some bit of doctrine or detail of the Sister's work. No mere curiosity, this--they're asked with an eye (or lack thereof) toward ferreting out motives, rivals, old jealousies or disputes that might go beyond the present argument.

Unfortunately, they're not getting much of anywhere as Sister Aleya simply can't name anyone she has any sort of hot rivalry with. She's not that sort of scholar, controversial work or no. Keeps her nose clean and her head down because politics don't interest her, just truth--

Myr tips his head toward Araceli as she speaks up, showing himself attentive. "So we'd have a chance of catching them out?" he asks, voice as quiet.