Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Lutetia City: Auclair Academae

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as written by Script

Auclair Hall was a grand and beautiful building, four storeys tall (and with a tower that stretched higher still) and constructed from smooth white stone. Even in Luskonios, where extravagant architecture was the norm, it stood out from the crowd. At the forefront of Auclair Academae, the central hall was its largest building. Some of the campus's colleges were visible over the tall and imposing walls that ringed the institution, but it was the hall that truly drew the eye.

Peregrine pulled his destrier to a halt at the edge of the road outside, killing the engine and dismounting as Robert was pulling up behind him. The young paladin whistled as he looked up at the hall.

"I don't think I've actually been here before," he noted, "Not this close, anyway."

The front entrance of the Academae somewhat resembled a gatehouse. A tall archway towered overhead, and beneath it, a large wrought iron gate barred the way from the street into the front courtyard. A smaller gate was located within the main gate - more akin to the size of a regular doorway - and this gate stood open. A pair of white-uniformed men stood to either side of it, whilst a third figure was perched on a stool on the far side of the gate.

The third figure - a woman with short brown hair - was clad in a far more formal-looking uniform, resembling military dress, as well as a long white cloak. She appeared to be reading a book.
 
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as written by Ronin

Robert's destrier parked alongside Peregine's, the larger paladin swiftly dismounting and following his friend.

"Hm," he grumbled, "can't say that I've wanted to. This place has always seemed to big for its own good." Big and beautiful to be sure, but Robert found something uncomfortable about the size of the place. How many students were studying here? How many future animancers would leave these halls?

As they entered the gatehouse, Robert took the lead. He stopped in front of the woman reading the book, clearing his throat. If she looked up, he would offer a formal Evequec bow.

"Good afternoon," he nodded, "I am Sir Robert Arodring, this is Sir Peregrine Lacroix. We are here on business from the Monastic Order." His hands folded behind his back, his posture upright. "Is there someone we can speak to?"
 
as written by Script

The woman did indeed look up from her book as the two approached, raising a skeptical eyebrow. The eyebrow remained skeptical as Robert made his declaration. She gently shut her book, though she kept one finger between the pages to retain her place, and rose to her feet respectfully. Only then did her eyebrow finally settled back into place.

"Good afternoon, Sir Arodring. Sir Lacroix," she said, inclining her head. "I am Warden Blaise. I am certain that one of the Masters will be able to speak with you. May I inquire as to the nature of your business, so I can direct you to the most appropriate person?"

"We're here to request counsel, ma'am," Peregrine replied, "Regarding a target we suspect to be of interest to your Order. One you have hunted in the past."

Blaise's eyebrow rose once more. "And here I thought today was going to be boring. Gate duty, indeed. Alas, I cannot leave my post myself. Give me a moment, and I will contact one of my fellow Wardens."

She stepped away from them, taking a few paces to gain some space, taking a deep breath and spreading her palms, as though preparing for something. Peregrine frowned faintly in anticipation of witnessing some form of unnerving ritual, but then she simply pulled a mobile phone out from her pocket. She cast a brief glance backwards with a small, mischievous smile, as she dialed a number and raised the phone to her ear.

Peregrine almost choked on his own breath. She'd done that on purpose, he was sure!
 
as written by Ronin

"Hm," Robert suppressed a gruff, folding his arms over his chest. Very funny. Humor, at least, wasn't something foreign to these people.

"Gate duty, indeed."

"Gate duty without a weapon," Robert said under his breath, mostly directed towards Peregrine - though Blaise might have heard it as well. He rested his hands on his belt, thankful for the weight of the massive claymore resting across his back. Robert hated being caught without a weapon unless he was in the Monastery. He preferred it even the lawkeeper holstered at his hip. Modern firearms were far more effective than bladed weapons in most scenarios, but Robert was a swordsman at heart.
 
as written by Script

Blaise spoke quickly on the phone, explaining the situation briefly to whoever she had called. Whatever reply she received was received with a series of affirmatives, and after a few moments she lowered the phone from her ear and slipped it back into her pocket.

"One of my fellows will be with you shortly, sirs," she said with a smile as she turned around to face them again, "to escort you to see Master Warden Devereux. He will hear your request. Feel free to wait on the grounds, in the meantime. It should be no longer than a few minutes."

The neat gravel-and-dirt pathway leading up to the central Auclair Hall diverged beyond the gatehouse, offering branching paths that circumvented the Hall itself and led further onto the campus. A pair of imposingly tall stone statues with curiously maneuverable-looking joints flanked the pathway leading up to the Hall's front entrance, but otherwise the path was surrounded by pleasant greenery and a few scattered flowerbeds, forming a peaceful and vibrant landscape to contrast the stark white of the buildings (though a fair few of the flowers were white in colour).
 
as written by Ronin

Robert stepped out into the courtyard, Peregrine hopefully in tow. He looked at the flowers and statues with a begrudging admiration.

"Where do they get the money to fund a place like this?" he shook his head, "the Monastic Order at least is supplied directly by the Ecclesiarchy ... but the Order of White? Who fills their pockets?" He grumbled. "And that's a tricky thing. Both of our organizations are shortened as 'The Order'. I bet people get confused about that."
 
as written by Script

"The Auclair Academae is both an Animantic institution, and an Academic one, if memory serves me," Peregrine replied, "The university side of the school charges fees. I believe even animancers have tuition fees to pay, albeit with a lot of scholarships. A few years back, I think it was my ... third cousin? Fourth? One of the two, was applying, and it came up at a family gathering. As I recall, it was quite expensive - but then, he didn't qualify for any of the scholarships, considering his background."

It was only a few minutes later, as promised, that a figure in white approached from around the side of Auclair Hall. A head of layered blonde hair fell just past his ears, being gently tossed by the breeze. His features were youthful, and his skin fair. He looked to be no older than the cusp of adulthood, and yet, he wore the same uniform and cloak as Blaise, who Peregrine would have placed in her thirties. Even the clasps and adornments upon his attire were the same, both in symbol and silvery material. Unlike Blaise, he seemed to be armed - a handgun of some variety was holstered at his hip, though there was no sign of a blade of any sort.

The boy made his way over to them, fixing each in turn with cold, icy-blue eyes. Peregrine managed to resist grimacing. Blaise's sense of humour and relatively laid-back manner had somewhat reassured him, but here was an example of why so many found animancers unnerving. Those eyes did not belong to a boy so young. It was very unnerving.

"Sir Lacroix and Sir Arordring, I presume," he stated. "This way, please."

He gestured back the way he had come, and then simply turned and began to walk away again. Despite an inclination to simply stare at the boy for his apparent disregard for social niceties, Peregrine managed to kick his feet into motion and follow after him quickly. "Ah, yes," he answered, though the boy's voice had held no hint of a questioning tone. "That we are! Taking us to... Master Devereaux, was it?"

"Correct," the boy replied.

"Good! And ah, thank you for the assistance. I'm sure you must be very busy."

"Not particularly."

"...right." Peregrine restrained himself from groaning. Just.
 
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as written by Ronin

If Peregrine was a bit off-put by their escort's mannerisms, Robert was thrilled. This one, at least, wasn't putting on the facade of enjoying their company ... which meant that Robert didn't have to return the favor.

"Apologies, Warden...?" his voice trailed off, allowing him to insert his name if he wished, "...but you seem a tad young to be carrying a caliber." His eyes flitted to the gun holstered at his hip, attempting to place the make and model.
 
as written by Script

"Lévêque," the boy answered. "And you are mistaken. I am of age."

The gun that Noah carried was a civilian model, for though the Wardens were a martial discipline of Animancy, they had not the legal authority of a paladin, inquisitor or police officer.

He led the paladins through the grounds of the Academae, past groups of wandering students in simple white uniforms, as well as the occasional robed animancer. Others - less traditionally minded - dressed in more normal clothes and simply bore the symbol of the order somewhere about their person.

The grounds were well maintained and beautiful, if simple. Most of the landscaping was neatly trimmed and well maintained grass (with a great deal of 'keep off the grass' signs to accompany it), with the occasional tree or flower-bed to add variety.

"So," Peregrine decided to make another attempt at striking up some form of conversation, ill at ease with the silence of their walk. "Warden Lévêque, ah, you must be very capable to have graduated at so young an age."

"I... certainly believe so," Noah replied, showing for the first time some hesitation. "And the Masters thought so. It would not be my place to question them."

Peregrine raised an eyebrow. The boy took great pains to avoid seeming arrogant. "Have you seen much in the way of combat?" he queried.

"Some," Noah replied. "Not a lot. We do not involve ourselves in matters of crime unless invited to do so, with the exception of the misuse of animancy itself." He paused, seeming to realise that he was engaging with them more than he had intended to, and stopped.

"Some, though?" Peregrine prompted, "Under what circumstances?"

"Undesirable ones," was the only response Noah provided.
 
as written by Ronin

"The 'misuse' of animancy," Robert mused, "perhaps you can explain what you mean by that, Warden Lévêque. The mechanics of your magic are a bit of an anomaly to me." He rested a hand on his belt, eyeing a pair of white-robed students as they walked past. "Soul-bending, isn't it? Warping the very consciousness of sentient beings to your will?"

He rolled one of his shoulders forward, his pauldron clinking against his chestplate and offering a brief glimpse to the nanomesh beneath. "Seems a bit ... unstable."
 
as written by Script

Noah gave a tut of contempt at Robert's question. "As simplistic and inaccurate a description as is to be expected," he stated coldly. "Whilst what you speak of falls within the realms of what animancy is capable of, it is practically the definition of misuse."

He continued to speak as they approached their destination. The building to which Noah had led them had been declared Harcourt College by a number of signposts along their route. The structure itself very similar architecturally to the others on the campus, but with notably more understated decoration. It had a more militant, sombre look to it than the other colleges and halls that they had passed.

They passed through its open double doors and into a moderately sized lobby area, that had - despite maintenance and renovation to keep its facilities modern - retained a great deal of its original aesthetic, in the form of stone walls, tiled flooring and antique wooden furnishings.

"Our order practises animancy only with willing spirits. We do not warp their consciousness, nor bend their souls. We beseech them, and where they see fit, they grant us their aid. To do otherwise is to violate the order's tenets."

They moved past the lobby, and through another set of doors leading to a large and winding staircase, beginning to ascend towards the higher floors.

"And that is enough for your order to hunt one of their own?" Peregrine questioned.

"No," Noah replied. "We are but one order of animancers. There are other schools of thought, not to mention that there are no laws against such acts. We lack the legal power to impose our beliefs on others as freely as the Church."
 
as written by Ronin

The talk of the inner-workings of animancy just vaguely drew Robert's interest. It was magic at the end of the day; a strange, convoluted world that was altogether barred to the life of a paladin. All this talk of 'spirits' and 'soul energy' seemed somewhat reminiscant of the religions practiced elsewhere in northern Terra. Adherents of Lumaranism, a popular Valoran faith that was the root of Evequism, also had the ability to manifest the light in the material world. It was less spiritual energy to them, though. More of a 'life power' as Robert understood it - the energy that perpetuated existence.

"We lack the legal power to impose our beliefs on others as freely as the Church."

"Ha!" Robert barked amusement at Noah's last remark. "And here I thought you were just cold and stone, Warden!" He grinned at Peregrine. "Did you hear that backhand? I felt it. And I'll tell you what-" He turned back to Noah, the trio halfway up the staircase. "-I like it. A bit of fire suits you, Mr. Lévêque." He chuckled. Despite the accusation in his words, it was a cheerful, friendly sound. "I'd like to see more of it."
 
as written by Script

Though initially taken aback by the boy's retort, Peregrine cracked a grin upon Robert's response.

Noah, in the meanwhile, turned to look back at them with surprise. Taken aback by the paladin's jovial acknowledgement of his barb, his icy exterior fell to be replaced by a look of flustered speechlessness. Hurriedly turning back to facing ahead to hide a blush that was all-too-prominent on his pale skin, Noah affected as indifferent a huff as he was able, hastening onwards up the stairs.

After a few moments, he gathered himself enough to speak again. "I... apologise, that comment was inappropriate."

Peregrine chuckled, "Well, I suppose we're even then, as far as blunders of etiquette go. No harm done."
 
as written by Ronin

"Indeed," Robert agreed, "etiquette is a fickle invention, anyhow. It's supposed to make us sound more friendly, but all it seems to do is drive us further apart." The paladin couldn't help but laugh as a flush of red brightened to Noah's alabaster face. That was a pretty sight. "Though I'm tempted to startle you more often, Warden! Put some more color in your cheeks."
 
as written by Script

"We're almost there," Noah stated, pointedly not remarking on Robert's comment. He suppressed a grimace as they stepped out onto the third floor of the building and into a broad, wooden-floored hallway. Doors lined the corridor, spaced unevenly. Each displayed a number in lightly tarnished bronze lettering, with some exceptions that had engraved metal plates beside the door to denote their function or occupant.

The door to which Noah led them was one such door. The plate read simply 'College Master's Office' and beneath it 'Master Warden Charles Devereaux'. Noah lifted his hand and knocked on the door. "Master Devereaux, I have brought the paladins."

"Yes, yes - bring them in," a gravelly voice called from inside the room.

Noah opened the door on a well lit room, light filtering in from a large latticed window set into the far wall. A white rug lay atop the wooden floorboards, stretching from near the room's entrance to just shy of a large and ancient-looking mahogany desk. A number of cabinets containing ornaments and accolades were positioned to the sides of the room, alongside bookcases stuffed with a seemingly random blend of both ancient leather-bound tomes and more modern volumes.

Between the desk and the window, sat upon a wing-backed armchair, a man clad in white robes was sat. He was bald, aside from a lengthy and tightly bound white top-knot that trailed down the back of his head. The rest of his hair appeared to have migrated to his prominent mustache, his goatee and his eyebrows, though rather than being excessively bushy, they instead seemed to be unreasonably long, reminiscent of a pair of whiskers.

He was gaunt-faced, but despite his more than evident advanced age, there was a defiant liveliness to his eyes as he examined the men that had stepped into his office.

Noah offered a formal salute as he entered, before stepping to one side to allow Peregrine and Robert to pass.

"So," Devereaux leaned forwards onto his desk as he spoke, and the corners of his mouth turned upwards in a grin. "I'm told that you boys are looking for some assistance in a hunt."
 
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as written by Ronin

Robert offered the Master Warden a bow as they entered the office. "Thank you for meeting with us." He stifled his surprise as he got his first look at their contact. Though Robert had expected Deveraux to be old, he hadn't expected someone quite so ... ancient. Charles could have given Kelve a run for his money in years. A flicker of doubt briefly knitted Robert's eyebrows together. Could this old geezer really be of any assistance to him?

He dismissed his uncertainties a moment later, reminding himself that old age was not in of itself an indication of uselessness. Deveraux was a Master Warden for a reason. Best to make the most of his experience.

"You are correct, sir," Robert nodded, "I suppose you and Master Kelve have already had words." He cleared his throat. "We are hunting for a gentleman that goes - or at least, went - by the name of 'Attano'." He caught the master's eye, noting how their curious intelligence and liveliness contrasted with the rest of his body. "I understand the Order of White has had troubles with him in the past. My partner and I-" he nodded to Peregrine, "-were hoping you could tell us about him. Information that may assist us in capturing him."
 
as written by Script

"Atano..." Devereaux repeated the name, his lips pursing and his brow creasing into a frown. "It must be going on sixty years since I was troubled by that name. A name easily lost amidst the prevalent distraction that was the Caer Skirmishes."

The old man leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. For a moment, Peregrine thought he had dozed off, but then he carried on speaking. "I first met the man under an assumed name. Roram Vair. A relatively new arrival in the city, with friends in high places. Necromancers. I was a young man at the time... twenty..." his brow furrowed as he attempted to recall his exact age. "Well, twenty something. I had only recently graduated myself, when he enrolled within the Academy."

Peregrine's eyebrows rose. "Atano was a member of your order?"

Devereaux chuckled. "You sound shocked. Prescience, sadly, is not among the abilities that our admissions office possesses. Yes, Atano joined the Order. He advanced to the status of Adept quickly, but never graduated. That was not his goal. Atano came here for one thing - the knowledge of black animancy."

Leaning forwards, the Master opened his eyes and met the gazes of Robert and Peregrine. "Now, before we proceed. Tell me, what do you know of the arts we call forbidden?"

Peregrine frowned, trying to recall what the Church had taught them regarding animancy. It had been only a single lesson, as he recalled. Maybe a few, scattered across the years. Animancy was not a common art, despite the presence of the Order of the White within the city. Even more uncommonly was it turned against the Church. As he probed his memories, he glanced at Robert in the hope that the slightly older paladin could better recall what he couldn't.
 
as written by Ronin

If Peregrine remembered little of his lessons, then Robert remembered even less. Magic and superhuman powers were all-around boring to the young Arodring, and he knew only as much as he had to in order to defend himself from it.

Still, he had a clue from Noah's brief explanation of the mechanics of animancy. What was it the boy had said?

"It's-" Robert cleared his throat, "-my understanding that animancers only work with willing spirits. 'Beseeching' them, as it were, for their power." His eyes flashed to Warden Lévêque before returning to Deveraux's. "I must assume that black animancy is the inverse of this. Forcing spirits to your will. Enslaving them."
 
as written by Script

"Indeed. That's the general gist of it. However, in this case, the knowledge Atano sought was of a very specific tool of black animancy. That of the creation of soul gems." Devereaux's eyes crossed over to Noah, and he offered the boy a smile. "Would you care to explain, Noah?"

Noah stiffened slightly. Was the Master testing him? He might have expected the question if he were still a student, but the request seemed almost patronising as it stood. "Soul gems are created from the rent souls of the living," he answered coolly. "Insofar as we are aware, they can only be created by reaping the soul from a recently dead or dying individual. The exact mechanics of creating them are complex, and closely guarded forbidden knowledge. They are a source of great potential power..."

He glanced at the Master briefly, as though to see if he should continue, and when the Master nodded, he proceeded. "In the instant of death, the soul's connection to its mortal vessel is still at its strongest. Consider that animancy as we practice it is largely performed with mere echoes of life, fragments of a whole. If the soul is redirected into another vessel - a specially constructed gemstone - at the moment it escapes the body, it can be preserved whole."

There was a long pause as Noah finished speaking, before Master Devereaux spoke again. "The life of another being, in all its fullness, converted into pure power." He shook his head with a grimace. "It is a terrible, dangerous thing. It is that knowledge that Atano stole from us, and the practice of which spurred us to hunt him."

Peregrine let out a long breath. "A necro-animancer with the knowledge to create and channel great quantities of forbidden power, huh..? Good thing they sent the best, right Robert?" He flashed a grin, but behind the bravado it was evident he was nervous.
 
as written by Ronin

Robert listened attentively to Charles' words, his pulse steadily riding as the master warden calmly explained just how powerful and deadly a soul gem was - and black animancy for that matter. It seemed the weapons of their prey were strong indeed.

"Good thing they sent the best, right Robert?"

"Good thing..." Robert replied almost as an afterthought. He rolled one of his shoulder forward. They had a better idea of who they were hunting - but there was still the matter of how.

"I don't suppose that animancers have any way of ... tracking each others power?" Robert asked, "we still don't have a good idea as to where we might find Atano. Is there anyway to trace his magic?" He shrugged. "Or... something like that. I honestly don't know how this works."
 
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