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Message: <blockquote data-quote="DMO" data-source="post: 2487331" data-attributes="member: 16324">Kylax, cont.Within civilized society, there is a class of people to which self-sufficiency comes naturally -- hard-working folk, the salt of the earth, who by nature are disposed to provide an honest day's work for an honest day's wage. To such people, the company of others is appreciated on its own merits, and when an interest is extended in their lives and concerns, it is done so out of fraternity. Because they are self-sufficient, they needn't harbor ulterior motives in dealings with their neighbors. Kylax could not rightly be counted among these ranks. This is not to say that he was manipulative or disingenuous, necessarily. But at the same time, it is true that for all his hours spent in the Palace of Magistrates, the young mapmaker did not know the chandler or his apprentice, would not recognize the master of the stables, had never spoken with a sentinel or chambermaid, and yet knew each and every person in the service of the mistress of kitchens by name, including the scullions. Following yet another impromptu feast courtesy of Rebecah and her cooks, Kylax decided to join several of his colleagues from the Ministry of Science for their regular evening haranguing over metaphysics. With a stomach full of food, he leisurely made his way across the palace lawns towards Tangye-Lean's chambers. The night air was cool. Feeling contented, his mind naturally turned to more abstract thoughts. So it was that he was caught entirely unprepared when he was accosted from out of the shadows in the darkened lee of two buildings. Before Kylax quite knew what was upon him, his assailant had clamped a firm hand over his mouth. Another hand clutched him painfully by the arm. Caught in mid-stride, Kylax found his trajectory altered, and momentum dumped him into the alley and against the coarse stone wall. He struggled but was held fast. "Have you told anyone?" the attacker demanded urgently. "Have you spoken to anyone of your tutelage?" In the confusion of the moment, Kylax did not immediately place the voice. "Have you mentioned my name?" There was a hint of desperation in the query. His eyes were adjusting to the darkness, and his brain at last was catching up with events. Kylax tried to speak. The hand over his mouth lifted, but he was still pinned to the wall by another upon his chest. "Troferian?" he asked, puzzled. "Yes, boy, it's me. I am sorry if I've given you a fright, but you must answer my question and you must be truthful about it. If you are not, things could soon go quite poorly for the both of us." Kylax gave a short huff of laughter and visibly relaxed. "You scared the stew out of me. I was someplace else. I was thinking about progressions and wondering if the total span of an infinite number of infinitely small spans is itself an infinitely small span, a span of finite size, or a span that is infinitely large. I can make an argument for any of the three. The implications could be--" Troferian cut him off. "No time for folderol now, lad. I must know: have you given confidence to anyone of your studies with me?" "Sure, several know." Troferian's head bowed, and his shoulders sagged. "They know that you lecture me at nauseating length on the principles and methods of the Ministry of Science, and that you put me to thankless tasks such as inspecting the ever-living, never-ending Canon for transpositions and other monk-minded goofs." His mentor looked up, and Kylax grinned conspiratorially. "You have said nothing of the verve*?" Troferian asked, insistent. "Your instructions on the matter were clear." "And you've not been injudicious? You've made no public display?" "Certainly not." Troferian appeared as though a weight had been lifted. He removed his hand from Kylax's chest and tousled the young man's hair in a gesture of approval. He patted him on the shoulder and leaned back against the wall. "Ah, good lad. Your discretion has perhaps saved us both; though, I fear things will only get worse from here on." Kylax frowned in the darkness. "What in the world are you talking about? What's got you so agitated?" "Then you've not heard?" Troferian asked. "If I had, I guess I'd be the one ambushing you in the night." Troferian sighed. "Gloriund Majestica, our exalted sovereign, has in his infinite wisdom seen fit to make proclamations concerning matters he does not begin to comprehend. Seeking to safeguard the moral virtue of his subjects from the dubious threat of the occult, he has issued an edict against all arcane pursuits." "That's of some concern," Kylax observed. "Indeed. Anyone found to be in contravention of Majestica's decree is to have his property seized by the empire and be remanded into the custody of the Holy Church. I doubt I need tell you how unpleasant our lives would become should either of us wind up in the cloister." Kylax was silent; he was beginning to find Troferian's agitation infectious. "A register of offenders has already been assembled and delivered to the Ministry of Order's Committee for the Promotion of Virtue and Prevention of Vice. Oh yes, there is such an ensemble, and it is every bit as awful as you would imagine it to be. For the moment, neither of our names is on that list, and we should both suffer great pains to keep it that way." Kylax nodded his agreement with an abundance of vigor. "Don't worry after me. I would gladly avoid any risk of my name appearing on such an index." Troferian held an awkward pause. "Then you will not be happy to hear what I say next, my boy, for it is just such a risk I must ask you to undertake." Kylax's head snapped about to look on Troferian in stupefaction. "I do not ask this lightly. I would make the journey myself, but it would be far too suspicious." "Journey?" Kylax shifted uncomfortably. He was a mapmaker; he was familiar with scale. It was a very large world out there. He did not need to have seen any of it first-hand to appreciate its capacity for danger. "A person whom I hold in high esteem has been identified to the Virtue and Vice Committee, and I can't imagine she knows of the edict or of the bearing it has upon her. I would not see her or her family come to harm while I still have means." Kylax considered for a moment. "We could send pigeons," he suggested. "And risk their return under watchful eyes? I think not." "You could whisper to her upon the wind ... like you showed me."** "No, Kylax, I wish it were so simple. The winds go whither they will, and I can not know whose ears are in the skies or whom they serve. This whole affair may not begin or end with Majestica. Until we know, we dare not chance it. Our best bet, the best hope for Proulx Longwell and her family, is to send a rider swiftly by horse. One who can be counted on to keep his wits should the world turn to madness. One who can be trusted to accomplish the utmost of tasks." Troferian glanced at his protégé significantly. Kylax felt the four walls of expectation closing in around him, squeezing off his options. He was no adventurer, to be galloping off in the middle of the night to rescue people from imminent danger. For that matter, he didn't even have a horse. It was a timely epiphany. "Troferian, I'm sorry. I would very much like to help, but I'm afraid I don't have a horse. I'd go it on foot, you know, but I don't think I could manage to run from here to the Treganz Gate," he said, gesturing at his girth. "Even if it were my own life at risk!" A smile lit across Troferian's face. "Excellent, lad! Don't worry about the horse. I'll send you off with the best of mine." ------------------------------ * Magical arts. ** Troferian taught Kylax the cantrip Message.  In my campaign, cantrips are acquired in the same fashion as other spells (i.e., you don't automatically know how to cast them all), though more readily.  Clearly, Message is insufficient for covering the distance, and Kylax presumably knows this.  In point of fact, Whispering Wind doesn't have sufficient range either.  It's not clear whether Kylax was unaware of this, thought his destination closer, or had more potent magic in mind.</blockquote>

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