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 Posted: Thu Feb 02, 2012 10:49 pm
Why?
Post-"Be Still" meeting.
Whom?
Dr. Kempe
-&-
Dr. Kirkaldy and Sir Erasmus
Where?
Trisica University.
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Posted: Fri Feb 03, 2012 5:26 pm
Dean Kirkaldy and Sir Erasmus moved quickly that morning, and as silently as possible; it was preferred that way, for both men, as they retreated into their thoughts about the events that unravelled during the Emperor's nearly ceremonious presentation of power. It was, perhaps, a problem for them moreso that the Emperor's authority was questioned at all. The Council of Sciences had stood by His Majesty's word, completely powerless and lost, clueless as to what the Emperor had planned, and upon their return to Gadu Dr. Kirkaldy unraveled a series of haphazardly strung words in front of his Quietus, away from the company of Council Mages, a good line of many things that would otherwise suffice as treason; but Sir Erasmus stood as quietly as he always had, surveying his emotions, and Dr. Kirkaldy was left to steam in his anger then cool down again in his accompanied isolation.
They were busy men, Dr. Kirkaldy explained to himself, and time was of the essence-- there were only so many mistakes he could fix at once. Sir Erasmus said nothing, but a curt nod seemed to hint that he agreed, or at least found Dr. Kirkaldy's reactions compelling enough to respond to. The two sires were first deposited like normal at the Council headquarters and its stone plaza and had made their way by carriage to Trisica University, the Council's esteemed and most prized endeavor in all its juvenile history; Dean Kirkaldy and Sir Erasmus paced quickly through the halls of Trisica University that morning, unlike their usual otherwise leisurely strolls through its labyrinthine sanctuaries.
The Dean met greetings from surrounding students with hesitance, and others dared not greet him at all with the look of displeasure on his face and his silver-skinned company. One in particular sought him out, a calm-faced but flesh-and-bones looking older gentleman with his hair tied back in a haphazard bun. Draped around his shoulders was Trisica's black professor's robe, its hood and sash tied around his waist colored in the dull tea of Trisica's artists.
"Dean Kirkaldy," he sounded; it seemed that the man was carrying as many documents as he could squeeze between his skeletal arms. Kirkaldy greeted the professor's gaunt smile with his own unsure grin, while Erasmus remained a thorough frowner. The professor looked up at the Quietus, cleared his throat, and continued, "Did the meeting go well?"
The Dean hesitated, mouth agape, before sighing and shaking his head. "I'm afraid not, Professor Pelletier. It caused more commotion than anything else, and I'm afraid there was the death of Plagues and humans alike as well. Including Advisers."
Pelletier frowned. "The Advisers were there?"
"I'm afraid there were. And two are dead."
"You won't say. Whose?"
"A man of Mishkan and a man of Auvinus."
"How unpredictable," Pelletier mused, overcome by confusion, "Does that mean the Council's no longer eligible for increased funding?"
Erasmus stared at the Professor, frown creasing evermore to reflect his state of botheration. "Given the state of the Emperor at this moment, those are the implications."
"Why, the Emperor, too? Well! They never tell us anything these days." The professor huffed and brushed a hand through his wiry slate hair, only to drop a few documents in the process. Despite the contents of the conversation he allowed himself to laugh, and quite confidently, though before he could bend down to pick up his parcels from the floor, Kirkaldy had retrieved them for him already. Upon recollecting his documents, Pelletier refused to take one-- a letter wrapped in green and stamped with Trisica's mark.
"Keep that one, that one's for you. I was quite distracted by all of this Emperor talk, you see-- but there's a more immediate problem at hand." Pelletier frowned, and Kirkaldy's shoulders grew taut at the sight. "The results of the ballots. A new Counselor has been, Dean Kirkaldy."
Kirkaldy's face grew pale, and his grip on the letter loosened at the news. He reminded himself of his previous Counselor, the promising Plagueologist Simon Rockland, his state at the insane asylum-- it only caused Kirkaldy to shake his head in disbelief. "The Councilmen would decide so quickly?"
"Yes, actually," Pelletier perked, "Why, the quickest ballot the Council has ever had the honor of having. On the bright side, he's a familiar face."
"Dr. Rockland is also a familiar face," Erasmus replied, "Familiarity no longer gives the Dean any sense of comfort, Professor Pelletier."
"Well, Sir Erasmus," Pelletier retaliated, frowning, "It should. You recall that fellow in the department of Philosophy, Sedgwyck? The one that had some mad theory in his head about other people's heads," he rustled his hands through his already tangled mess of hair, "You know, the short, perky fellow, always carries around lavender and lets madmen loose at his own home?"
"Dr. Kempe," Kirkaldy stated, nearly immediately; his breath ceased, however, and he leaned forward in disbelief. "Dr. Kempe?"
"Quite," Pelletier straightened his back and laughed, "The fellow knows everyone! And he's quite amicable, competent-- but I told him once, Dean Kirkaldy, he acts no more a scientist than he does the common Imisese peasant, sometimes, and he won't hear a word of Ardenian! Is the Council's decision so sure?"
Images of Simon Rockland flooded into Kirkaldy's mind-- Amory Kempe was no stranger, no fellow he was unaccustomed to, yet his image had always been imprinted within his mind alongside the maddening shrills that haunted buildings rife with madmen. Though the Dean looked uneasy, he nodded slowly to assure not Erasmus or Pelletier, but himself, and looked to the professor who had given him the letter. "I will see to meeting Dr. Kempe."
"The ceremony is in a week, you know. You could wait until then, you know plenty of the fellow to write a speech without much thought--"
"I insist," the Dean smiles, gently.
Pelletier glances at the Dean, brows raised, and shrugs in indignation. "He is in his office, if you must be the news breaker."
Kirkaldy glances at Erasmus and nods; the two head out towards the philosophy wing of Trisica University which, ironically, was farthest from the Dean's own office, yet the garden was close and sweet song of Imisese music filled the plaza quarters.
Upon arrival to the Philosophy office, where light shed every corner of the open-spaced hallways, and the sun was poking in to greet Imisus with its spring afternoon, Kirkaldy knocked on a door with a wooden carving at the front that, in close inspection, read-- Dr. Amory Kempe, specialist in Psychology.
"Dr. Kempe?"
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Posted: Fri Feb 03, 2012 7:24 pm
The office of Dr. Amory Kempe, specialist in Psychology (or head meddling, as some of his least favourite fellow Philosophers called it), was apparently Kempeless, despite Pelletier's proclamation. There was, instead, a nervous looking young student perched on a couch, whose face paled even further when he opened the door to the Dean and Sir Erasmus himself, quickly backing into the office once more. "D-Doctor Kempe is..."
He jolted as someone from under the desk exclaimed "I've got it!" A disheveled looking doctor popped up from behind the furniture, carrying a file and rattling "Do you think that perhaps your nervousness around them could stem from some sort of buried trauma? Have you had any recurring dreams, perhaps? A persistent childhood memory?"
The boy opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment, Dr. Kempe noticed his company, and his smile widened. "Dean! Sir Erasmus! A pleasant surprise, but I'm afraid I'm in office hours at the moment. If you might be so good as to stop by la-"
"No, no!" the boy interjected rapidly, looking so sick at the thought of being the reason to dismiss the Dean as to faint right then and there. "I'll come back, Dr. Kempe. Um, tomorrow. Um, yes, I-" He nearly bumped into Erasmus as he backed out the door, and squeaked, "I'm terribly sorry," rushing presumably to less startling professors with emptier offices. Amory looked disappointed as he left, and made a note on the file he had bent down to retrieve.
"That's the third meeting he's run out on out of," a quick glance at the file, "Three," he noted with a hint of disappointment. "But," he added optimistically, "He keeps coming back!" He set the file down and ran a hand through his drab brown bird's nest of hair in an attempt to make himself slightly more presentable, but only managed to twist the pre-existing chaos into a newer, jauntier tangle. Rubbing his hands together, he asked, "To what do I owe the pleasure of this early visit, gentlemen? Does our esteemed patient have more need of me?" He referred to Sir Simon, to whom he had been administering treatment since shortly after the Incident had necessitated that something be done. It had been admittedly difficult going, and Amory, not usually one for pessimism, had been the first to declare the Rockland was no longer fit for his post. "I know the vote's already been taken for a replacement, but I've been thinking, and I can't simply, you know,"
He waved his hands around his head in illustration, "Leave him like that. The replacement needn't know, but I've been thinking about it, and I would like to continue my sessions with him, he may not be suited for his previous career, but surely he could be rehabilitated to some degree. I'm willing to do it for nothing, in fact, I just need to find time in my schedule..."
There was a schedule on the desk. The writing in it was crammed so small as to be indecipherable. Amory picked it up for a moment and flipped through it somewhat fruitlessly, then tossed it aside. "Ah, well, yes, I'm sure I can find the time somewhere." He cleared his throat, though it was never really clear with Amory if he was nervous about being impertinent to the Dean or just had the cough he was all too wont to be afflicted with. "Anyway, I just wanted to say that, because I was worried that you might ask to terminate the sessions, and I assure you it would be no problem, he is, after all, an excellent scientist, I've read his work, most admirable, except for the whole, um, you know," another pantomime, "Issue." He bit his lip and drummed his fingers on the desk, adding, "I would still like to help. And I think I can."
Something occurred to him, and he looked up suddenly, clapping his hands. "Ah yes, but how was the meeting? Have you just returned now?"
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Posted: Sat Feb 04, 2012 2:27 pm
Erasmus watched nonchalantly as the 'psychologist's' patient in mind skittered out and away from the office; Kirkaldy's eyes diverted their attention away from the sight as much as possible, preferring the idle company of an office floor over an intimidating Plague, a busybody philosopher, and his hands. The Dean managed to nod his head here and there as Amory started to preach a list of things he'd found need to say, cringing as he always did at the mention of Sir Rockland's name. Despite the man's dishonorary discharge and removal of his license as a doctor, Kirkaldy still bitterly referred to him as a doctor-- and, perhaps, foolishly and optimistically branded his madness as one of Hell's many possessive demons. He could name the sins-- Simon had fallen ill to envy, to greed, to pride. To unfettered, raw wrath.
It was plainly obvious that Doctor Kirkaldy had numbed out his hearing once more to retreat to his darkened trails of thought, and his Quietus' gaze ventured around with an unusual amount of precision in where Amory would trail off to, to see his daunting list of agenda duties. The Dean's Plague shook his head subtly here and there, silently objecting to Kempe's constant wring of "chosen replacement, whomever he should be," but found it in his best interest to say nothing at all to correct him; that was the Dean's duty, afterall.
Silence was met with Amory's each and every inquiry, until the very last moment--
"Ah yes, but how was the meeting? Have you just returned now?"
"Yes. Perhaps only an hour ago," Erasmus replied and dryly at that, "The meeting resulted in the death of two Advisers. The Emperor was excused from the premise early due to the dangers of staying, but excreted vomit beforehand, and the presentation was decreed finished at the Council's word. Dean Kirkaldy permissed the Plague General to represent the Imperial Guard, for a time, as well--"
"--No," Kirkaldy blurted; he reeled back into attentiveness after his sordid absense from the conversation, then nervously cleared his breath over his sleeve. "I mean, no, the meeting did not go well-- but-- that is not the point at hand, not the immediate one."
He had to observe his surroundings to recollect what the good doctor had said to him earlier, and noticed first the calendar of events that Dr. Kempe had held between his hands. Kirkaldy frowned-- he knew Dr. Kempe's intentions, at least to the Council, and his importance thereof to the rehabilitation of Doctor-- Sir-- Rockland. "I insist, Dr. Kempe, the verdict for Mister Rockland's status was chosen, and I must advise that you let him be. Simon has-- an illness, and you are putting yourself at risk. And,"
Kirkaldy hesitated, "The ceremony of Doctor Rockland's replacement as Counselor will be in a week. We've come to announce the results-- it is you, Amory Kempe. Congratulations."
The Dean extended his arm for a handshake, and attempted to smile, though it was a feeble excuse for one.
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Posted: Sat Feb 04, 2012 9:33 pm
Amory paused for several moments after Erasmus had answered him, clearly having been unprepared for the announcement. He opened his mouth, then closed it, stroking his cheek distantly as if trying to figure out what to address first, and more importantly, how. At his feet, there was a high pitched murmur, though the doctor could not think of how to reply just yet, it was abundantly clear that the stunteds who he allowed to infest his office were well equipped with sentiments on the matter. Finally, hesitantly, he fumbled for his schedule and cleared his throat, attempting to gain a degree of control over his own surprise.
"Ah, yes, well, I suppose that would qualify as a bit of a failure, on the whole. Two Advisors! Which? How did such a thing come to pass?" He made a faintly sympathetic grimace- the strange twist of the mouth was almost humorous on Amory's homely face. Something else occurred to him though, and he asked, "Where's the fault for this? I was under the impression that it was to be a fairly straightforward affair."
He puffed his cheeks, no longer able to put off the other order of business, and countered Kirkaldy's objection to his agenda with all the weary patience of a man who spent his career being told that the career was not, in fact, a career at all. "Well, they certainly decided quickly. A good choice, I hope, but Dean, I've been in mental institutions, perhaps you've read my research, I mean, I don't want to argue, but this is my jo-"
He paused as Kirkaldy announced the candidate. Somewhere under a desk, a stunted let out an exclamation that smacked of smugness, and caused him to cough uncomfortably.
Somewhat mechanically, he extended his hand, more as a reflex of the very social man than as an actual reaction to the pronouncement, and despite the strength of his handshake, it took moments for him to collect himself and handle the news. He was taking it better than the Dean at least, and he glanced back at his schedule once more before saying, incredibly, painfully reluctantly, "Yes, I suppose that visiting Rockland wouldn't make the best impression, then, hm?" As he attempted to let go of the notion, in his voice there was the almost audible sound of a stubborn mule cart trying to walk in reverse. However, Amory rebounded quickly because someone had to, and the Dean's visible discomfort was both contagious and unsettling. One of the three should best act pleased at the appointment, and he could not recall a single emotion having played across Erasmus's face since the day that they met.
"Thank you for your congratulations. In light of this, I'd like to amend that when I said I'd been in mental institutions, I was there for research." he joked gently, then, attempting to muster an unusual amount of pomp, he added, "I will exert my best effort to serve the Council well. Trisica has never done me wrong, and I am grateful for the opportunity to return the favour."
There was a rattle from one of the cabinets, and Amory's hand darted out to it, returning with a scrap of parchment, which he glanced at briefly before tucking in one of his many pockets. "And evidently, there are rather bewildered Grimms seeking out someone to speak to in the other Tower." He hesitated visibly again, as if trying on a new robe, before exercising his new position and enquiring, "May I ask what, exactly, the events of the meeting today were?"
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Posted: Tue Feb 07, 2012 1:58 am
"Your enthusiasm is welcomed." It was followed by a hollow chuckle-- Kirkaldy managed to hold a smile up only to the moment when Amory released his hand, then soured back into his usual grimace. He took notice of his new Counselor's tiny Plague assistants writhing about the area, coming and going as they pleased, and the squeak of a noise made not far away from where they were. He glanced to Erasmus-- he seemed to have a particularly odd relationship with what Plagues lay here, but none of that was his concern. Not now, not ever-- what mattered most was that these tiny Excitos seemed to be able to relay information quicker than men on horse wagons, given the right recipient and the juiciest of information.
"The other Tower's situation at the moment is a pressing concern, indeed," Kirkaldy unraveled, wringing his hands together, "What Sir Erasmus said earlier was... right, but only a fraction of a rather wholesome event, if one could call it that. There were-- two boys that took over the stage alongside a supposed relative of the late Grand Magus Waldgrave. If you recall how the woman died, it's no surprise that this took the Emperor by surprise. I've no doubt it'll make the Royal House Machaera rather furious."
The Dean stopped talking, rather unexpectedly, and turned to Erasmus. He took the piece of parchment from his hand and offered it to the Quietus who took it, autonomously, and stared at it blankly. "If you could, Erasmus, send this back to Professor Pelletier and tell him my regards about the Major Tower to the Grimms. It will only be a moment, and I will go to explain things in only a few moments."
Erasmus nodded and bowed to Dr. Kempe, stated more than asserted a calm "Congratulations," before taking his leave from the unkempt office without another word. A voice at the back of the professor's office seemed to voice out in indignation, inside of the cabinets, but halted shortly after the Quietus' leave.
Kirkaldy turned back to Amory after watching Erasmus leave the vicinity, and his back seemed to loosen into a stressed and bent mangle of old age. He brushed his hair back and covered his face with his palms and breathed in, murmuring notes to himself and only sounding out a bit louder to continue announcing the news to the now-Counselor, "One of the boys asked a rather controversial question-- he issued the removal of Plagues into Empire hands. Neither the Council nor the Imperial Guard seemed to know, though General Kunze seemed rather calm given the situation, and the entire ordeal-- it erupted into chaos. The Emperor's life was threatened at gunpoint-- and two Plagues ended up killing an Adviser. What's more,"
Kirkaldy drew out a breath, "What's more, Erasmus was responsible for the death of one Plague, and I'm afraid the Grimm of said Anhelo might escort themselves to the Towers. The Council was in charge of leading the Grimms in the presentation, Dr. Kempe. This was a decision we should not have made," his vision darted around for a chair-- he seemed to be craving one, with the look in his eyes, "This is a decision I should not have made." He rubbed the side of his forehead and murmured, "The Council has been left in the hands of a dimming wit. Arthur Thomas would have me hanged personally."
Dean Sedgwyck Kirkaldy, leader of the Council of Sciences, looked up at Dr. Amory Kempe, psychologist-by-name, and murmured, "111 years and 12 Deans-- and only one of them has had need of a Head Counselor."
He laughed once more, exasperated.
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Posted: Thu Feb 09, 2012 8:20 pm
As the Dean finished his grim pronouncements, Amory very gently directed him to the couch upon which the student who had admitted him had been writhing minutes earlier. He attempted to make sure the seat was comfortable, as his possessions were about as scattered as his own person was, then puffed out his cheeks, blowing into his hands. "Well, no," he admitted at last. "I would not call the events of that meeting particularly wholesome." He drummed his fingers restlessly and remarked, "Sir Erasmus killed another Plague, by Panyma. And to see him just now, you would never tell! I wonder what sort of psychological implications that might..." he trailed off, remembering the situation, and cleared his throat. "Of course, it's not as important as how his actions might be interpreted," admitted the self-titled Psychologist incredibly reluctantly, "Whether we choose it or not, Sir Erasmus's standing as a professor of the University and your Plague ensures that his actions represent the Council. His killing of another Plague will not paint us as sympathetic to the cause of the Grimms who are waiting outside the Second Tower. If the Grimm of said Anhelo appears," he grimaced, "We'll have to talk about compensation."
"Isn't that terrible," he mused aloud, clearly having wandered onto another path of inquiry entirely, "From my research, it's quite clear that Plagues are living, thinking things, but we can still settle the affair of the killing of one as easily legally as we might the killing of another man's cattle!" He paused, then added, "Granted, in some circumstances, human life is priced fairly lightly as well, and in some places, cattle are considerably less common than children. Oh, but when I was a student--!" He paused again, catching himself.
"Yes, well. All very upsetting, of course. But we will deal with it, Doctor Kirkaldy! 111 years and 12 Deans, and none of them has ever had to deal with the philosophical dilemma of whether a thinking, living thing counts as a human being or not because we have never known of other beings so similar to us to merit the debate. Clearly the Emperor has as little idea as we do about how to deal with the damn matter, so getting upset about needing a Counselor to deal with the consequences of that question does nobody any good." His pep talk was intended for Kirkaldy, but seemed to have motivated Amory himself enough for the both of them, and he smiled at the Dean and attempted to straighten his robes as he rummaged through a drawer for something else, finally pulling out a pair of glasses and putting them on his nose. In the few moments the movement took, his robes re-rumpled, and he glanced down at them with a vague air of frustration before deciding to leave things be.
"Take some lavender, it's good for the nerves," he suggested, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a bundle of the stuff. "And, if you'd like, some glasses." He tapped the lenses once, twice, for show, and remarked, "Fake, you see- I'm trying to see whether troubled patients are less likely to aim for my face if I'm wearing them, and considering that the meeting was apparently chaos, it might be wise," apparently forgetting that being Counselor granted him some political importance and served as well for avoiding being punched. "Anyway, we should get the backlash over with while it's relevant, and keep Sir Erasmus occupied in case he makes a, er, less than tactful remark to a distraught Grimm. Would you like me to send a message?"
Unbidden, a lavender plague appeared on the desk and saluted smartly, waiting for orders in a rather showy manner.
"Then again, if Sir Erasmus is present, we may not need the glasses," mused the doctor. The stunted seemed positively sullen, and Amory looked at it sternly before turning back to Kirkaldy. "Dean Kirkaldy, I leave the details up to you, but my first counsel to you as, er, Counselor, is that we leave for the Second Tower as soon as possible. Perhaps hosting a meeting without details was a poor choice, but it needn't be a damaging one if we work quickly to soothe the woes of those affected by it as best we can. The riots we had in March were part from a lack of communication, exacerbated by Sir Rockland's, ah, problems. Now is the time to fix what mistakes we've made, and then later we can apply our dimming wits to the political implications of the revelations made at that meeting."
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Posted: Sat Feb 11, 2012 2:02 am
Kirkaldy's gaze swayed towards the couch and he plopped onto it, sighing gently; he rested his arms against its side frames while his spine sank into the sink, his legs drooping against the floor like gelatine. His palms masked his tired eyes, and he nodded autonomously in response to Amory. "Yes," he murmured, brushing both of his hands through his hair, "Yes, I understand, Dr. Kempe."
The Dean stared at Amory than his purple-draped stunted for a moment, studying them in silence after Amory finished his onslaught of suggestions and observations. Kirkaldy himself as a skittish, quiet man, obvious enough by his nervous phrasing and particularly uncommanding tone of voice. He resigned himself to a weak stand and hesitantly pattered over to the front of Dr. Kempe's table, glancing indignantly at the lavender Plague then to the bundle of dried lavender placed between the philosopher's hands. "I--" He was known for being placant, however, and took only the dried lavender, raising a bony hand to Dr. Kempe's fake spectacles in polite resignation. "--No, not the glasses. You may wear them, if you would like. Thank you."
Then he blinked. A wave of fatigue washed over him when he did, and he blinked a few more times as if it were the first time hd'd done so in years-- there was a distinct line of purple beneath his particularly dull pair of slate eyes. He placed a hand over his chest, where his heart was, a calculated metronome that increased in pace the more they stood there and he waited. He nodded, for flavor, and muttered, "Yes, a message is a good idea. Quite good. I trust Professor Pelletier to understand his duties before we arrive-- I-- we must make haste, then, Dr. Kempe. I've not realized the mistake I've just made in sending Sir Erasmus--"
Upon closing his eyes, Sedgwyck tried to maintain his hasty breathing, then turned around towards the exit of the office again, and it seemed as if he were talking to no one in particular. "Yes. Let us leave, then. Swiftly, before the rest of me withers away from what happened this morning, and I shall make the Emperor's same mistake," he squeezed his hand against the handle of the door's handle. He whispered a small "Deus clypeus meus," a rare phrase coming from the otherwise indignantly unreligious Dean of the Council, and marched down the hallway without so much as a warning, signalling hastily a circle over his creased forehead.
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Posted: Sat Feb 11, 2012 1:53 pm
As Kirkaldy opened the door, the stunted that had been kicking its feet on the desk dashed out a different way, presumably through some small and secret exit to locate Erasmus. Dr. Kempe glanced back to make sure it had gone, and then followed the Dean, less concerned about praying and more concerned about vomit. Was it a Counselor's job to clean that up? At the Kempe household, it was decidedly his landlady's duty.
"You've been quite stressed," Amory noted as they walked down the hallways, out of the pleasant reaches of the Philosophy department and garden and into the midst of Trisica. "Maybe it would be wise to resume your therapy sessions. I had hoped with the election of a new Counselor, the burden would be somewhat lifted, but considering the circumstances--" He looked up, momentarily distracted by greetings from familiar faces, and began to run the gamut of 'Hello's and 'Good day's and 'How's the wife's that he seemed to have in endless reserve. It was only a little exaggeration to say that Amory Kempe knew everyone in the University, and for every person he knew, he had a friendly word to greet them with.
Finally, with one last call of "Fake!" and a tapping at his glasses to a curious passerby, he turned to the Dean once more. "Where was I? Ah, yes. Therapy may be wise. Do you feel it was helping before? We only got the chance for a few sessions before the new Counselor was elected, but we can't have anyone vomiting around here. That may do for government, but once scholars start sicking up! Our sentiments are considerably more useful than those of politicians." He puffed out his chest, which served to make him look like a comically lopsided potato (in glasses) before returning to his usual posture, which was still about as lacking in majesty as a tuber anyway. "Anyway, you kept a level head to end the whole thing at least. Some people, you know, they can't even do that in a stressful situation. Put them in front of a moving cart, they just stand there in shock." He shook his head, and as he did so, something jumped onto him, making him jolt.
"Rene!" he exclaimed, "You didn't half give me a shock."
The stunted from earlier was perched on his arm, and whispered something into his ear.
"Ah, good, you delivered it then. No. No, I do not want you to act out his reply, just tell me what happened. Oh! I do wish you wouldn't be such a bother." He and the stunted stared each other down for a moment, and then there was some considerably more sullen whispering, to which Dr. Kempe listened intently.
"Excellent. Well, that's sorted, just a few Grimms to go, then!" He turned to Dr. Kirkaldy and announced, "Sir Erasmus will not be joining us, which is perhaps for the best. The Grimms are being detained at the Second Tower, and not all of them seem angered, though a few are quite agitated. If you like, I can speak to them first, or we can address them together. Amongst the twelve Grimms present are a few Imisese known to us, and several of our own, including Mr. Martin Pelham, Mr. Wickwright Finch, Sir Leroy deSpar, and Mr. Neil Blythe. Oh, and Mrs. Margaret Maugham. Not all of them have their Plagues in visible attendance." He clapped his hands together and rubbed them optimistically. "It's not so bad!"
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Posted: Tue Feb 28, 2012 10:21 pm
Kirkaldy surrendered to nodding blankly at all of his new Counselor's optimistic threads of advice, however much his mind wanted to object on such matters. Indeed, Sedgwyck knew Amory first because of his therapy sessions, and second because of the unfortunate case of Dr. Rockland, who tied in with the first in a messy conglomeration of political headaches and insanity. When the Counselor's first bit of counseling was to resume with the therapies, Kirkaldy could only imagine the scathingly dirty walls of the Imisese sanitariums and their underground, and how well he could fit into such a setting shall his mind further delve into discoursing insecurities to the psychologist-in-name. When the Dean stared down at his feet, and then his angular and near square hands, he could see himself in the same filthy, refuse-ridden clothes of those insane patients, and the muck of it all made him shiver with fear.
"I shall see about the sessions, Dr. Kempe. They have aided me in the past, surely, but I cannot help but remember the status of insane asylums even during discussions most tranquil. And the meeting," he clenched his teeth, "I would not have found such a foolish sense of bravery were it not for my own mistakes, and the mistake of my own Plague. Were it not for Erasmus, I might belittle Plaguekind with more passion than General Kunze and the late Grand Magus Waldgrave."
Waldgrave. The dean waited meticulously for the stunted to take his leave, for he felt that rumor of a Waldgrave legacy's return was seldom word for a small Plague such as Rene. Kirkaldy stared at the lavender Servos and remained unobtrusive and silent during Dr. Kempe and the stunted's qualms, though he was no stranger to the dramatic Servos, nor the group of strangely educated Plagues that usually marched around alongside him that scuffled about the Council was if they were trained scholars themselves. They, of course, subjugated scientists to more rumor than humans could have ever hoped to spread alone.
Rene did not seem to take his leave, however, and instead remained perched on top of Dr. Kempe's shoulder. A ceremonious listing of names followed, and Kirkaldy tried to recall a few to the best of his ability. "I hahve seen little of Miss Maugham and Mister Blythe in the past year, let alone know of their status as a Grimm. But, I am aware of Mr. Blythe and deSpar from the University." His mouth remained agape, but Kirkaldy decided not to mention the troubles that occurred alongside the subtle actions of Mr. Finch, nor the excessive swearing on Sir deSpar's part after the conclusion of the meeting.
"It's not so bad!" sounded on Dr. Kempe's part, and Kirkaldy's stomach seemed to churn endlessly in return. "I would rather more Plagues be in visible attendance than not," Kirklady muttered, "Not all of them were surrendered to the Empire, and while two were accounted dead, a few Excitos did run out and were subject to being pelted with feet and bullets.
But I suppose we do what must be done." Kirklady breathed in, sucking in air and slowly breathing out as a particularly sick man would. "Let us be over with it."
---
When the Dean of the Council opened the doors to the Major Tower, it was not as loud as he expected it to be. It was, in fact, quite quiet in the room, save for the blustering rambling of but one man in the audience. The rest were waiting or, it seemed, put an abrupt end to their question upon the arrival of yet another Grimm, though this one had a certain weight of power that none wished to possess.
"...harm! My Plague would do no su--" the man who was shouting jerked his head towards the new beam of light to his side, stopping only when he noticed the silhouette of two men emerge from the threshold. Though red in the face, the angered Grimm bit his lips and sat down in the middle of what felt like a pool of Grimms, though there were barely a few dozen present.
Neither Pelletier nor Erasmus were there, as Rene had promised. Kirkaldy coughed into his knuckles and bowed his head toward the Grimms, and with a less than reassuring glance at Dr. Kempe, preceded to walk over to the pedestal inside of the presentation room, which was significantly less grandeur than the stage in Helios. A nervous smile followed from the stress-strained brunette.
"Professor Pelletier has told me of your need for query only moments ago. I shall answer any to the best of my ability, alongside the assistance of Dr. Amory Kempe, appointed only today as the new Counselor of the Council. As you will."
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Posted: Thu Apr 19, 2012 10:40 pm
Amory, who had more experience with insane asylums than any mentally well man should lay claim to, could only nod sympathetically. Even the short Doctor himself, usually the picture of cheerful sanity, if not a certain degree of disheveledness, had nightmares, though the asylums seemed to weigh on Kirkaldy especially heavily. It concerned him, moreso now that he was Counselor and realized, with a panicked and displeased flurry, that if anything were to happen to Kirkaldy himself, he would very likely be thrusted into an unwanted position of leadership. Making things work behind the scenes was all very well, but the idea of the son of potato farmers becoming the head of the Council was beyond the pale. It was too ludicrous to even inspire laughter. And all the paperwork! His face flushed with displeasure at the prospect. "I think it would be for the best if we were to speak," he concluded. "It may be possible to find a way to subvert your fears. I find that bottling negative emotions is much like bottling water- at some point it will overflow, Dean Kirkaldy!"
As for his sentiments on Plaguekind, the stunted accompanying Amory stiffened and frowned, and Amory's reaction was less affronted but negative all the same. "I agree that Plagues are less than savoury creatures. Considering their origins, they must be. Nevertheless, those that I have researched seem no more inclined to evil than the average Panymese man, and they are yet far more useful in our research and less likely to cause controversy than the average Panymese man. They arrived after the Plague already cursed us- perhaps Panyma has sent them for our benefit." He stroked his chin thoughtfully, calm for one who was speaking what more conservative men might consider heresy. "Of course, I do not propose this theory lightly. I hope whatever cure we may divine from our struggles can too make men of Plagues, for their powers are of a sort that no man or beast should be possessed of." He clicked his tongue somewhat tersely, and the servos on his shoulder seemed mollified by his declaration, if not totally satisfied with the contents.
"But still!" declared the Counselor, pushing aside private talk of Plagues for a larger forum. "Our audience awaits us."
----------------
Wickwright Finch sat and listened to the polemics of the unsettled while dealing with his own inner turmoil in the Major Tower of Council headquarters. Within his bag, Hopkin listened to the diatribes with a sort of intense silence that Wickwright was not quite sure he liked in this instance, and thus he felt within him the growing urge to interrupt, though he was sure it would do him no good. He felt a sort of cold capability after the chaos of the morning's meeting, the second wind that all Finch men felt in times of crisis, which was well enough, since crisis dogged them like wolfhounds. It had certainly followed him to Imisus, he thought wryly, grimacing and shifting in his seat as the nobleman in front of him continued to talk of the unjustified death of his Plague.
What if Hopkin had died? Wickwright moved his hand to the satchel, feeling a reassuring squirm in response. He had become quite used to the little burden, and Hopkin was more use to him alive than dead. The possibility that he might have died had been very real not moments ago though, and the man in front of him was surely only fueling the book boy's paranoia. He already needed to talk to the Plague to make sure he understood what had happened. This distraught Grimm's ranting would not help him nor bring the dead back to life. Wickwright stood up and cleared his throat to intervene, but was saved from doing so with the arrival of the Dean and another Scientist, bobbing in his wake, and looking for all the world like a human tuber. He listened politely to the Dean's introductions. After the Dean came the tuber, apparently a newly appointed Counselor, yet not at all possessed of the anxiety of the newly-initiated, not even, Wickwright noted with all the disapproval a dirty mendicant was allowed to muster, much care for appearances.
"I am here to assist, though I was not present at the meeting, I have been informed of the goings-on that took place there, unfortunate though they may be." Dr. Kempe gave the congregate a sad, sympathetic smile, and continued. "We have no desire to justify the casualties of the morning, but to express our condolences and apologies for our unintentional hand in what you have been through, and to clear any confusion that we may be able to. I know a few of you, and though this is our first time meeting in this respect, I hope future encounters will be more pleasant and conducive to the true purpose of the Council."
Before the more emotionally disturbed of the group could intervene, Wickwright pounced. "What is the current status of we Grimms within the Council?" he requested, resting his hand once more on Hopkin's hiding place, where the Plague was once again perfectly still and deathly quiet. "And furthermore, of Plagues?" His eyes alighted on a servos on the new Counselor's shoulder, who returned his gaze evenly, seemingly perfectly at home on his perch.
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Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2012 3:20 am
Kirkaldy frowned instinctively at the question. Any query was doomed to despair on his part, though he tried to save himself by mimicking Amory's sympathetic smile. It did not work, and only proved that the Dean had rather crooked teeth.
He resumed frowning and replied to the mendicant somberly, and to his dismay the rest of his audience was intent on listening. "Both the Grimms and Plagues of the Council are protected as they were before this meeting, unless evidence of treason against the Emperor arises. Should the Council bear a criminal, its allegience with the Emperor will be in permanent ruin."
Kirkaldy paused to catch his bearings. He wrapped his palms around on the pedestal and continued, wariness overcome by dogged conditioning from presentations past-- it was remedial enough for the time being, at least. "Fortunately for the Council and its Grimms, the unsavory results of the enclosed meeting today are repairable by all means. I understand that some here are overcome by grievance for Plagues lost, and for that you have my condolences, but it would have been a grim fate either way. Assault of the Emperor's Servants would lead to public execution, a crippling and embarrassing fate for both Plaguekind and its Grimms.
"I wish such a thing were not true, but I must state with utmost confidence that the Council is among the most understanding and inviting of the Plagues and their guardians. We ourselves must criticize and re-evaluate the Advisers' demands tonight, but I must warn beforehand to any wishing to query on the matter: I know but a shred of light more than any of you here. The Council had agreed to be the instrument it was birthed as, but in this age we must question everything."
The noble looked up towards the Dean with spitfire anguish, red painting his cheeks. "Were you to really see eye to eye with the Grimms here, Dean Kirkaldy, you would have thought first before acting. How could you have agreed to this ousting without a shred of information? A sliver of light is charity compared to being blindfolded needlessly in the crippling dark!"
"It is not so simple to articulate what we knew beforehand. The Imperial Guard had approached us with the request and informed us promptly that the Fellowship would also be present. We knew that the audience consisted purely of Grimms... but I was not informed that Plagues would also be present."
"Was it not a simple assumption to make when the presence of that silver fool was bid for, Dean Kirkaldy? Even the bumbling idiots of the Fellowship were able to know so much. Even blightly Redsword was present!"
"I did not expect for Sir Erasmus to accompany me during the meeting, no, but the request was sudden and everyone was due for it but a few days before the message had arrived. I assume the Fellowship knows much less than we do, as they were teleported here and worked against the Emperor's wishes before everyone was duly escorted. The only Plague assumed to be there was the Plague General--"
"Whose political sway, or lack thereof, matches that of Sir Erasmus and even bloody Redsword," the noble spat, "Tell me--"
"Why did Sir Erasmus kill the two Plagues, Dean Kirkaldy?" A worried woman from next to the noble, clearly distraught by his shouting, intervened. She adjusted her cowl, "That is what the Lordship wishes to know. We all worry for the sake of our dear Plagues. We are reluctant to see them die at the hands of a faction we trust with our very blood."
Kirkaldy stifled.
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