Ecclesiastical matters.

[Cinnabar]

To Father Abbot Fidelius of the Monastery of St. Thecla the Feckless

Father Fidelius

I recently received your letter regarding the actions of one of your novices, specifically a malediction apparently issued against my person. This is, of course, a serious concern, and one which I hope will be investigated and properly resolved.

As such, when would be the soonest appropriate time when I might visit your monastery in order to discuss the matter in more detail? I should also like to take the opportunity to speak with you in person about a number of other, perhaps related incidents involving junior members of your monastery, with a view to preventing further such unfortunate situations from arising in future.

I very much look forward to your reply.

Sincerely

Cinnabar Calomel

[Dhugal]

Governor Calomel,
Would tomorrow eve be convenient for your visit?
If not, let me know what day and hour is.
Otherwise, I shall expect your visit tomorrow night.

Yours In The Light,
Brother Fidelius

[Cinnabar]

To Father Abbot Fidelius, of the Monastery of St. Thecla the Feckless

Father Fidelius

Tomorrow would be quite acceptable. My thanks for your cooperation in this matter.

Sincerely

Cinnabar Calomel

--*--

As agreed, as dusk darkens the sky the following day a rider makes his way towards the Monastery of St Thecla; a neatly-dressed figure in raincloud-grey garb, upon a pale horse. Up to the monastery gates, then, reining in his mount as he checks for any who might challenge his arrival. Or possibly even greet him; this is Myrken Wood, after all, and stranger things have happened.

[Dhugal]

A rather formidable looking monk with a large staff opens the gates
for the Governor. He’s a man in his late middle ages and his bearing
suggests he might have been a military man before retiring to the
contemplative life. He smiles, bows respectfully to the Governor.
“Welcome to the Monastery of St. Thecla the Feckless. Father Abbot
Fidelius is expecting you. I am Brother Thaddeus, and I am to lead
you to the Abbot’s study as soon as one of the novices takes your
horse. Please enter and be welcome.â€

[Cinnabar]

"Thank you kindly, sir." A smile as is appropriate in the circumstances, as etiquette dictates; a brief tip of his hat likewise, before he nudges the horse through the gates and dismounts once inside. The reins are passed to the novice indicated, and Calomel returns his attention to Thaddeus, inclining his head in invitation for the monk to lead on.

The Governor's attitude is quite correct throughout, polite and formal, upright posture and carefully understated gestures, as befits a gentleman of culture. He bears blades at his belt, a matched rapier and dagger, but such is perhaps to be expected; not that he anticipates trouble here within the monastery's walls - at least, not trouble that will require swordplay - but Myrken's roads can be somewhat perilous for lone travellers.

[Dhugal]

Thaddeus waits patiently while the Governor dismounts and spares
an appreciative nod of approval to the man’s weaponry. Then as soon
as the horse is led away, he gestures for Cinnabar to follow him
inside.

They pass through a breezeway and enter a well lit corridor with
white washed walls and ceiling. Someplace off in the distance a choir
begins to sing, then stops briefly before starting again. “Practice.â€

[Cinnabar]

There's a nod of thanks to Thaddeus as the Governor steps into the Abbot's study, hat removed politely, a how of his head in greeting.

"Thank you, Father Fidelius. And thank you also for making time to see me." Protocol observed, as the Governor takes the seat indicated, an absent glance about the room as the Abbot sits in turn. Water accepted with a nod, and sipped before he speaks.

"Mm, quite so, sir. There is, of course, this business of a curse, which is of some concern." A slightly distasteful expression at that, clearly not pleased by the matter at all. "Indeed, the laying of maledictions might be viewed as witchcraft by some, and obviously it would be extremely unfortunate for your monastery to be associated with such practises. While the penance the boy has been placed under is a good start, I would be inclined to suggest that a firmer stance be taken, to discourage the other, more... impressionable of your monks from following his lead." His features are solemn all the while, his tone firm, earnest. "Indeed, given that emulating the novice in question is likely to imperil their immortal souls, I imagine that it would be a priorty - nay, a duty - for you to make an example of the young man." A polite smile follows, though, and a slight bow of his head in deference to the Abbot.

"Far be it from me to tell you how to run your monastery, of course."

[Dhugal]

Fidelius looks at the governor a with a slightly bemused expression.
“Matthias is still young. And Governor, I sent you that news in order
for you to take whatever safeguard against maledictions you favor.
Mathias is hardly a witch, in fact he has never shown any signs of
magical abilities whatsoever. But there are all sorts of unintended
events associated with whatever strange powers this seem inherit to
the very fabric of Myrken.â€

[Cinnabar]

"Such strange powers and unintended events are precisely why measures should be taken against such bitter and spiteful acts. One never knows when they might have consequences beyond those expected. And I'd think it far more sensible to prevent curses being laid in the first place, rather than expecting those targeted by them to be forced to defend themselves from another's malice - impetuous or ill-considered as it might be."

A light shrug at that question, though, cup held between slender hands, though there's a faint nod at mention of the initiate's name. Ah. Confirmed.

"Expulsion from the monastery, perhaps. The uttering of curses is hardly the act of a pious and devout young man of the cloth, after all. Hardly fitting. Perhaps it would be wise to look more closely into his behaviour in general, at the very least?" The Governor maintains a mild expression throughout, politely neutral, tone even and conversational. His gaze rarely strays from the Abbot, however, observing the older man with carefuly scrutiny.

"For example, I'm led to understand that the boy - among various other of your novices - have been in the practise of holding... uh, theatrical performances in and around town. Frequently on subject matter which one would not expect from young men being schooled to a life of piety and contemplation. Were you aware of these stage-plays, Father?"

[Dhugal]

“Expulsion? What would that accomplish other than to harden Matthias’
heart and feed the fires of his rage against you? If he was expelled, I
imagine the curses and maledictions would fly and fast and much more
vehemently. I prefer to try to teach him by more humane means.â€

[Cinnabar]

The Governor listens quietly, nodding in acknowledgement of the Abbot's points; fingertips drumming lightly on the side of his cup as he considers for a moment.

"I will not deny that the monks of St. Thecla's have has been helpful to the people of Myrken at times. Offering aid to those injured in the Ashfiend's attacks, providing sanctified water during the assault upon the chapterhouse of the Shepherd Knights, caring for the injured in the aftermath, and so on, all fine and noble efforts for which I am grateful. But this is precisely why I find these other lapses to be so unfortunate - they sully the reputation of an otherwise worthy and devout group of men, and undermine the good of which you are clearly capable." A regretful cast to Calomel's features, perhaps somewhat disappointed and wishing for something better.

"Personally, I would prefer that you encourage them to voice their displeasure in more... constructive ways - for example, by writing letters to members of the Council to make their concerns known. Perhaps even contacting the government offices to arrange face-to-face meetings, hm? My time is not unlimited, obviously, but I do not think I am a difficult man to reach. Have I failed to answer any of your correspondence in the past?" Brows raise inquiringly at that, seeking confirmation.

"These... performances, however, are not really a very sensible means of making their opinions known. Not in a manner that will have a positive effect, in any case - to be quite blunt, Father, they appear to be nothing less than a crass attempt to sow discontent and unrest among the populace, and I find your tacit approval of such to be quite disappointing. I understand that you might feel you have a grievance against the Government, but allowing your novices to incite unrest among the citizenry? Shrewd insofar as it keeps the monastery clear of blame for any direct action, it still leaves your monks culpable for any suffering that ensues. And in all honesty, I would hope that such underhanded tactics were beneath you, as men of piety and good morals." Clear gaze steady upon the older man, perhaps looking for understanding in the Abbot's features. "That's leaving aside the glorification of a wanted murderer and fugitive from the law, which was in very poor taste indeed. Another of young Matthias' efforts?" Not to mention the reported conduct from one of the novices following a performance of said play. Still, a hand waved to dismiss the question; not entirely relevant at this point.

"As the Abbot, I would expect you to be responsible for the behaviour of your monks; I would also hope that you have enough authority to keep them from inappropriate activities, be it the performance of bawdy plays, or attempting to foment armed insurrection, or casting maledictions against people they've never met, or whatever. A failure to do so reflects poorly upon your monastery as a whole, and besmirches your good name." His mouth stretches into a disapproving line at that, before he takes another sip of water to wet his throat.

"And that, Father Fidelius, is a great shame. A great shame."

[Dhugal]

Fidelius sits and listens, eating a small slice of cheese before taking a
sip of water as Cinnabar sets forth his arguments. He sets down the
tumbler from his right hand while his left scratches lightly at a spot
just over his left eyebrow as he marshals his own counterpoints, then
after Cinnabar finishes he holds up his right hand, fingers clenched.
His voice is cordial, his demeanor that of an scholar engaged in a
debate. As he counters he raises one finger on the hand for each
statement:

Primus, I doubt a few satirical plays will foment rebellion but they
might get more folk to think about what sort of land they think
Myrken is and what it should become. Nor do am I worried about
them “sullyingâ€

[Cinnabar]

"Sir, I am trying to change things. I am doing what I can to make the Council more... effective, as a governing body. More accountable, more responsible. The performance of the various Councillors in the past is not relevant. The situation is changing - I believe for the better - so please, at least encourage them to try, and I will do what I can to ensure that they receive a reply. They are young, surely their opinions cannot be as fixed in stone as all that?" Pale brows raise at that, inquiringly. It is to be hoped that the Abbot is more persuasive when it comes to convincing his novices of the articles of faith, at least.

"However, I must disagree with you on the matter of Aeryn Karolinger." A certain coolness to the Governor's tone, there, a certain forced neutrality that creeps into his expression. "Aeryn Karolinger murdered Constable Charles McCoy. We have witnesses who saw as much with their own eyes. Your quibbling over technicalities, your attempts to paint this as some kind of... political maneuvring, are not appropriate in the slightest, and insult the memory of a fine Constable and a good man." A moment's pause as the Governor considers his words carefully. "If you believe any Constables to be corrupt, or acting in a manner not appropriate to an officer of the law, make their names known to me and the matter will be investigated. If you believe that I orchestrated the events leading up to Constable McCoy's murder, that I sacrificed him solely in order to incriminate and be rid of Aeryn Karolinger, say so and present what evidence you have of such a conspiracy. If you have neither names nor evidence nor anything beyond merest supposition, scurrilous gossip and hearsay, then I would thank you to refrain from malicious speculation of this sort." A slow, careful sip of his water, and a steady breath before he continues.

"The play performed by your novices was a thinly-veiled portrayal of the murder of Constable Charles McCoy by Aeryn Karolinger. The victim was clearly identifiable as a Constable, the perpetrator was clearly identifiable - by mention of the Brotherhood of Janeiro and such - as Aeryn Karolinger. If you claim he is only accused of murder, why did your novices' play depict him as the murderer? Whether Aeryn Karolinger is or is not guilty, the events depicted in the play firstly showed him committing the murder of a Constable, and secondly cast him as the hero of the piece in spite of this - announced explicitly as such, in fact. In what way, Father Fidelius, is this not the glorification of a wanted murderer, or at the very least a clear statement of approval of such acts? What moral lessons does such a performance teach the audience?" Gaze lowering from the Abbot for the moment, as he reaches to pour some more water into his cup before offering the pitcher to Fidelius. He leans back into his seat, then, sipping from the cup as he makes certain of his composure.

"Your rationale for sanctioning the plays raises an interesting point, however, and I would certainly be intrigued to hear you elaborate more upon it. Leaving aside the question of precisely how these plays, uh, aid those who are in need, it is obvious enough that you and your novices have certain opinions. At the very least, going by the actions of your monks - the plays, the whispers and gossip, the satirical children's rhymes and so forth - you clearly disapprove. There are things with which you are displeased, but that doesn't really give much indication of what you want, only what you do not. So, please explain: what sort of land do you think Myrken is? And what sort of land do you feel it should become? Please, speak as freely as you wish." An open request, and a rare opportunity: the Governor's undivided attention, and an invitation to make one's feelings known. It is to be hoped that the Abbot doesn't waste such a chance.

[Dhugal]

Fidelius pauses to gather his thoughts before replying. “Governor, I
did not say you sacrificed your young Constable for your own motives
in dealing with Karolinger. Nor did the plays glorify the act that ended
young Constable McCoy’s life. What they do, however, is raise
questions about the event itself. From what I and others have heard, the
Constable instigated the confrontation, that he was drunk and insulted
Karlinger and his companion. There are some who say there might have
been a brief exchange of blows.â€

[Cinnabar]

Calomel's frown only grows as the Abbot speaks on, frustration setting in faint creases between his brows and at the corners of his mouth.

"My men take their duty very seriously, and I expect nothing less of them; those who do not take their duty seriously or view it as license to abuse the authority of the post do not remain Constables for long." And this is true enough; several officers have lost their badges as a result of misconduct. "They are trained to use only reasonable force, and are well aware that they will be held accountable for their actions. I don't know how matters were handled during the Brotherhood's time as lawkeepers, or even while the Order of Straka upheld the peace - perhaps things were different then, which might explain your mistrust. However, I can assure you that within the Constabulary, the death or injury of a suspect during arrest is not treated as a casual matter at all. My men know this, and know that they are servants of the law, not avengers or executioners."

A slow sip from his cup, holding the water on his tongue for a moment before swallowing and speaking again. "A man who kills another during a tavern brawl is every bit as much of a murderer as a man who plots and schemes and slits his foe's throat while he sleeps. Sir, Aeryn Karolinger attacked Constable McCoy with a knife, and McCoy died as a result of the wounds thus inflicted. What else would you call it but murder? Every piece of evidence or eye-witness testimony we have indicates that it was Karolinger who killed McCoy; nothing has been found to contradict this version of events. Of the three individuals who were present in the moments immediately preceding the incident, one of them is dead, one of them is on the run, and the other is being treated as a witness in this case, and has cooperated fully with the investigation thus far. Which is why she is not, as you suggest, sitting in a cell and being charged as his accomplice." A certain coolness to his gaze as he regards the Abbot, cup tilting this way and that in his hand.

"I have two further witnesses who saw, with their own eyes, Aeryn Karolinger standing over McCoy's body with a bloodied knife in hand. So, my sources were directly present either during or immediately after the incident. How reliable are your sources, Father? Reliable enough to denigrate the memory of a dead man and paint his killer as a hero? Have you or your novices ever even met Aeryn Karolinger or Charles McCoy, to present their personalities so boldly upon the stage?" His cup is set back upon the desk before him, fingers meshing loosely in his lap.

"At the point at which the murder took place, Karolinger was neither a threat, nor a rival. He was a bitter ex-mercenary who'd decided that rather than try to seek some new agreement with the government - which he was invited to do, might I add - he'd throw away his livelihood and that of his men in a fit of pique. To make a grand gesture, perhaps." A shrug for that, at a loss as to why a reasonable man would do such a thing.

"From your novice's plays, though, it is not hard to see where your sympathies lie. You cast grave aspersions upon the integrity and motivations of men who have dedicated their lives to upholding the law and keeping the peace, suspecting them of being little more than vengeful, bloodthirsty brutes; meanwhile you defend a murderer in the face of all evidence, clearly viewing his potential as a, uh, a leader of those who might oppose my vision of Myrken to be more worthy of praise than you find his murder of a Constable to be worthy of censure. This would indicate that you feel my vision of Myrken to be worth opposing; that for whatever reason, you find it to be flawed, or distasteful, or wrong in some way. No, sorry, in every way." Hands steepled before his chest, fingertips to fingertips, his expression in part curious, in part vexed, as if the Abbot presents a puzzle that defies all attempts at logic or reason.

"I'd be interested to hear about your vision of Myrken, Father; if you were in my place, what would you do differently? "