Loremoot

The Guild still stood, in spite of a mad Queen's threats against it. A disparate group of scholars and adventurers, those driven by a powerful curiosity to delve into books and dungeons alike to learn something new, what mattered was the gathering and preservation of knowledge, finding a way to share it if it would be useful - or protect it if it would be dangerous. He had sought them out, or they had come to him, and together they had formed this Guild built around lore in all its forms. Zariah's rule had sent them scattering, no greater threat to free knowledge than a power-hungry tyrant bent on control and propaganda, but for the moment her threat had subsided, and it was more than time to clean house and take stock of what remained.

He went to those places he had hidden the most important books with Kiada, bringing them back to their home below the Atheneum. He had swept and dusted, thrown open the doors between offices and let the light stream in from the sunken window wells to charge the glowstones in the chandelier. Fresh water and wood had been brought down, and when it was done he had looked around and felt satisfaction for what felt like the first time in weeks. His hands still shook, and his temper hissed and crackled beneath his skin, but it felt good to be here once more.

The first note he sent was to Amalia , the next to Samuel and Caiside . Others went out to those who had gone silent or missing, on the off chance they could be found. To Killian and Maea and Seiji , Loreseekers all. He asked them to join him in the evening, just after sunset, to share what they had learned and how each was faring. Whether he was guildmaster or not, these were still his friends, and they were all still colleagues. And at the appointed time and place he sat at the table - not at the head, but along the side, the kettle hot and cups laid out for those who would want tea. A bottle of Valair cider chilled in a bucket of cold water near at hand for those who preferred a harder flavor.

And so he waited to see who would come.

Caiside was, for once, the first to respond to Jigano's invitation. More often than not, he was fashionably late, but he had found himself eager for company recently, if only to keep his mind of the way's he thought he was failing. Jigano was a friend as much as he was a guildmate, and while he wasn't as close with the other active members, he would still spend time with them. Even Samuel. Though the note hadn't been completely clear about the purpose of the reunion, if there was one at all, Caiside still intended to pick the brain of his friend, and the others there. He had brought some notes he had been working on, information about the strange rabid pumpkins transcribed to paper, along with some other creatures he'd encountered, though the older ones were done more from memory. The papers were tucked under his arm as he arrived at the Atheneum, a careful smile plastered to his face. "This is a first, isn't it?" He joked, setting papers down across from Jigano and wandering towards the refreshments. The red head considered the tea, then grabbed the bottle of cider instead, pouring himself a generous glass, and offering one to the host before sitting. "It must feel good to be back." Caiside I have never been allowed to be Holy, I have never been forgiven for Wanting;

Caiside was, for once, the only one to respond to Jigano's invitation, and the ex-Provost did his best to hide his disappointment when no others appeared on the stairs. He accepted the cup of cider with a wan smile and raised it in a toast as the red head settled in nearby. "Not the first I would have chosen, though I mean no offense," he joked weakly, glancing around the near-empty Hall with eyes that were shadowed with blight and a smile that failed to reach them. "But I suppose that's what happens when you lose leadership of the Guild you founded." He shook his head, trying not to let the black mood settle over him too strongly, but it was hard not to give in to the black despair that lurked around the edges of every thought.

It was better, at least, than the rage that seethed just beneath the surface, waiting for its chance to pounce.

"It it good to be back though. To be able to walk the street without a disguise or keeping my sword to hand every moment, waking and sleeping." In fact, the blade was nowhere in evidence tonight, only a staff that the bard used as a walking stick leaned up against the wall near the stairs. Given the shaking of his hands, it wasn't hard to guess why he'd had to abandon is precision weapon for something a little more forgiving. "What about you? What have you been up to since Zariah's disappearance?" he asked his friend curiously, gaze dipping curiously to the papers Caiside had set out.

Well, this wasn’t exactly the best beginning to a meeting he’d ever had. Not only was Caiside early, it seemed he was the only person to arrive. Flat golden eyes turned to focus on Jigano after his “joke”, the ex god finding no humour in the words. ”Perhaps the members you’re missing simply didn’t get their invitations.” He offered, his tone sharper than it needed to be. It felt good to feed the beast of blight behind his ribs, even if he was doing it with a friend. Caiside shook his head, readjusting long hair and settling more comfortably into his seat. ”It is good to hear things have calmed for you, if nothing else.” His voice was dripping with a diplomatic smoothness now, the anger from moments ago seemingly vanished. ”I’ve been fighting my way through illness mostly. And transcribing my work.” A hand, missing its usual adornment of rings, gestured towards the papers Caiside had brought with him. The invitation to ask more was obvious, even without Caisides expectant look. Honestly, he felt it was the least Jigano could do, given he’d said Caiside wasn’t who he’d wanted to show up. Caiside I have never been allowed to be Holy, I have never been forgiven for Wanting;

The bard could only smile sadly at the sharp retort, giving a slow shake of his head. "Perhaps," he said, though the word was far from convincing. He was glad that Caiside, at least, had come. It showed who his friends were, though he wished he had learned it in a less publicly humiliating way.

His eyes narrowed at how quickly Caiside changed his tone and tune, the bard recognizing the shift and hating that he didn't dare trust it, but his own burden of blight made mistrust so seductively easy that he couldn't help himself. "What kind of illness?" Jigano asked politely, though the smith's shaking hands and sharp tone was a hint that he hoped he was misreading. "And how does your work go?" The question might have been made out of courtesy, but the interest behind it was genuine, even if he was no longer technically guildmaster. Anything that Caiside could learn and share with the guild was welcome, and not even the blight could change that.

What kind of illness indeed? Caiside had laboured over the question himself for days, never coming closer to an answer. That wasn’t the front he wanted to put up though, wasn’t how he wanted the other man to think of him. It took a moment longer to compose himself this time, his smile taking more effort than before, and his words coming out tighter. ”Nothing overly concerning. Just persistent. I do think I’m on the mend now though.” His work however, was an easier subject to talk about. He shifted through papers, pulling out a page with notes on vampire gourds, the most recent ones he’d done. ”I’ve spent some time observing the creatures here, trying to keep notes on them. Well, successfully keeping notes on them. These are some of my results.” Caiside’s pages were filled with looping scrawls and half done drawings, with scribbles and notes lining the margins. ”You can’t have called a meeting just to ask me about what I’ve been doing though.” Caiside turned his attention to Jigano expectantly. Caiside I have never been allowed to be Holy, I have never been forgiven for Wanting;

The silver brow arched, but Jigano simply tilted his head in acknowledgment of his friend's insistence that he was getting better. The bard had thought he was, too, until he had spoken with Ludo. Knowing the truth was hard, but preferable to his former ignorance, but while he might have accepted it in himself, he wasn't sure if Caiside was ready or willing yet to admit that he was in the same boat.

He was suitably distracted by the notes Caiside pulled out, something close to a grin tugging at his lips as he traced a finger above one of the sketches, careful not to touch the paper or smudge the ink. "This will be an excellent addition to the Bestiary," he declared it. "If you could clean the text up when you have a chance and choose a couple of the best drawings to include, we can have Sam add the page..." Jigano trailed off with a wince. He sighed as he looked at Caiside with a more solemn expression. "Assuming he's alright. That was one reason for calling the meeting; I haven't seen most of you since Zariah put out those arrest warrants on us, and now that she's gone I wanted to make sure everyone was okay. I saw Amalia at the Cloister, but not you and Sam..." he gave a light shrug. "And now I know that you survived. But Sam is still missing." Remi had mentioned something about the bookmaker, and Jigano could only hope that the Ascended man was still as well as the last time he'd been heard from.

Taking a slightly unsteady breath he met Caiside's eyes squarely, his own gaze shadowed with weariness. "The other two things I wanted to talk about are the blight and... a matter of faith." He extended his shaking hand to Caiside in demonstration, a wry smile without humor pulling at his lips. "The blight has made the jump to people, as it turns out. I have it, and it's getting worse. I intended to ask Amalia to continue as Provost in case... well. Everyone is working very hard to find a cure," he finished softly. "But so far I haven't heard of any success on the matter."

Some of the characteristic smugness returned to Caiside’s face as the former guild leader looked over his work. This was what he worked for, why he put in the effort he did. The recognition. ”I’ve started some clean up, but I wanted to show you the most complete notes I had. There’s a few smaller pages too, a blurb on the luxere, but I need to do a touch more research on them before they’ll be ready.” The words were said with a warm smile, shaking hands clasped together tightly. The mention of the bookmaker did twist that smile somewhat, hard as Caiside tried to not let it affect him. ”I’m afraid I haven’t seen dear Sam since the last meeting you called.” And that was all he was going to say about that, lest his tongue start spitting vitriol before he could contain it. He wasn’t going to start any kind of drama for no reason, he simply didn’t have the energy right now. Seriousness permeated the conversation quickly, drawing a curtain closed behind it as it came. Caiside focused on Jigano, listening to his words with a quirk in his brow, a silent question, not yet voiced. The Blight. He’d heard some talk, but nothing much, nothing truly concrete. Then the bard extended his arm, demonstrated the shaking that Caiside could feel wracking through his own body, and golden eyes went wide. ”That can’t be right... how would it have made the jump? How can it be affecting people?” And no cure... Caiside sighed deeply, leaning back and covering his mouth with a hand, trying to look calm and composed. ”I suppose... all there is to do is hope then.” He was not a man of medicine, and healing arts had never come naturally to him. He knew enough to patch up a wound, or set a broken bone at most. This was beyond him, and that was terrifying. ”What of your second matter? Faith?” Caiside wanted to keep the conversation moving, so he didn’t have time to dwell on what he suspected was his eventuality. Caiside I have never been allowed to be Holy, I have never been forgiven for Wanting;

"The notes are good, but I'm particularly glad to see the sketches!" Jigano admitted with a grin. "We haven't had a decent artist to flesh out the notes before. I'm more of an artist with words then ink, I'm afraid, and Sam is..." He paused delicately, not wanting to speak ill of his friend, but also not willing to bend the truth too far. "His talents lie elsewhere," he decided on. Amalia was too busy to do much bookkeeping these days, and his smile warmed significantly at having Caiside to rely on for guildwork.

The pale brow did arch a little at the emphasis his friend put on Sam's name, and he eyed the smith thoughtfully for a moment. There was some sort of tension there, something they might need to work out at some point... but not today, with the blight sinking deep into Jigano's heart and possible Caiside's as well. He simply nodded acknowledgment before moving past it to confess his corruption. "I don't know how," he admitted with a sigh. "I was very, very sick for a week. I don't remember anything from it, just fever dreams... and when I started to recover I assumed the symptoms were just a part of that illness. It wasn't until Ludo told me that it was the blight that was making me shake, making my skin so cold and causing my mood to shift so wildly from anger to sadness... well. It must have gotten into me while I was sick with that Longheat fever, but I'm not the only one now." Hope... was a commodity in dreadfully short supply for the blighted, given their moodswings.

But it was all they had at the moment.

He was almost grateful at how Caiside didn't linger on it, though he suspected the other man didn't want to look at his own symptoms too closely. The question of faith had the bard looking a little less certain than usual as he cleared his throat and sipped at his cider with a thoughtful look on his face. "I have never had any interest in Frey's worship," he began slowly, sifting through the uncomfortably intimate details of his interactions with Caido's gods. "And my relationship with Safrin has been... rocky at best. But Ludo and I are unexpectedly well-matched." He smiled, a lopsided expression as he met Caiside's eyes with a slight shrug. "And Mort is a god that is known for his love and patience. Souls and memories, remembrances and forgiveness... I would like to do something to honor them both. A shrine was made for Safrin in the Fields recently. I was thinking of constructing one for Ludo and Mort here in the barrierlands, perhaps by the the Bone Bridge. A place for memories and praying for the souls of those who have died or been lost, beyond just the Festival of Lights." He tilted his head curiously at his friend, studying his expression to try and see what the other man thought. "There aren't many others I could or would ask to help with a shrine to the gods of death," he admitted. "But I was curious... well, as to what you might think about it?"

Caisides lips pursed to a thin line as he listened to the silver haired mans explanation, feeling sympathetic to the sad state Jigano had been in, but also annoyed that it wasn’t more helpful to him. Perhaps, if he could pin down how he’d gotten sick, he could find a way to alleviate the symptoms. Or at least pretend that was something within his power, so he didn’t feel so helpless. Caiside reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh, then drained his glass in one shot, wanting to feel something other than what he was. The mention of Frey, though Caiside knew it was coming, knew it had to be  with what they were talking about, still made him flinch, irrational anger twisting his face and his hands. Jigano moves on quickly, the words dull in Caisides ears until a look, a smile, brought him back to some kind of sense. He has heard of, but not met Ludo, and only read of Mort, but the loreseekers explanation paints both in a charitable light. ”I think it’s a good gesture.” He said slowly, picturing the area Jigano was talking about. ”I would be honoured to help. In my home, the goddess of death was one who I revered, and one of the few I ever actually interacted with.” He smiles, and leans back. ”If you want my help, I will be there for you.” Caiside I have never been allowed to be Holy, I have never been forgiven for Wanting;

Caiside made little attempt to hide how unhelpful Jigano's story of his own corruption was, and the bard grimaced in sympathy. From others he had spoken with he had found there to be little rhyme or reason in how the blight had spread, few able to pinpoint a specific action or moment that was an easy 'yes, this is how it happened.' Rather than linger on the smith's disappointment he moved forward with the conversation to answer the other question that was asked - and his sharp eyes didn't miss the wince that Frey's name invoked.

Still, he was glad to hear that Caiside approved, and even gladder at the offer of assistance. "There will be a few others as well, I hope," he explained. "Kiada, if you know her... and I intend to ask Melita as well. Both have had interactions with Ludo before. And Ashetta has met Mort. Between us I hope we can construct something worthy. Preferably in stone," he added wryly. "Something lasting. Thank you, my friend. I'll let you know when I've found the right place for it."

He hesitated briefly, finishing his own cider and moving to pour them both another glassful as he considered another thought. "Have you found much use for those two-way mirrors?" he asked, tilting his head to the side curiously. "If you're willing I have a trade I'd like to propose. I've come into the ownership of a self-writing quill recently. One that will record the thoughts of its owner on command. Given all the notes you've been taking for the bestiary, it might allow you to multi-task while at the forge or studying the animals in nature. And I will be undertaking to help a friend during LongNight, and those mirrors might come in handy for it if we're separated. What do you say?"

The fact that others would be helping as well put Caiside a little more at ease, his face relaxing just the slightest. It wasn’t that he was completely opposed to doing a bulk of work, he’d just prefer to... well, not. And, it felt a little strange to be making a shrine to a god he’d never interacted with. At least like, he wasn’t a main hand in the idea. ”You don’t need to thank me. We’re friends, aren’t we? Just let me know the time and place.” Caiside cocked his head when Jigano asked about the mirrors, wondering where the thought was going. ”I haven’t actually, no. I keep forgetting to leave one mirror with someone when I’m out, so they’re not being terribly useful at the moment.” He laughed shortly, cocking his head to mirror the bard when he did. ”That does sound a fair bit more useful. And like it will keep you safer.” The redhead clapped his hands together and continued. ”I say it sounds like a deal to me. Though you’ll have to give me a chance to retrieve them from home.” He hadn’t been kidding when he said he forgot them whenever they’d be useful. Hopefully Jigano would actually use the damn things. Caiside I have never been allowed to be Holy, I have never been forgiven for Wanting;

"I don't take your friendship for granted," the bard smiled at his fellow loreseeker, not even the blight able to dim his gratitude. "Thanking you is the least I can do to show that." The conversation moved quickly along, neither inclined to linger over maudlin sentiment for long, and the talk of trading brought up quills and mirrors and magic that were small but incredibly useful. Hearing that the mirrors hadn't gotten much use earned a wry chuckle and a nod of Jigano's ahead in agreement.

"They tend to be fairly situation-specific," he agreed. A situation like keeping Amalia apprised of what was happening to he and Kiada during their LongNight Quest, for example. Or keeping he and Kiada in touch if they got separated on their ghosthunt. "I'll give you the quill in the meantime. I can pick up the mirrors the next time I'm at the forge for our lessons," he offered, getting up to duck into his office. He returned a moment later with a wooden case that held an inked quill nestled inside, and he handed it to Caiside with a grin. "May it aid in your guildwork - or anything else you can think of!"

It was easier then to settle down, pour more cider, and turn the talk to other things. Gossip from around town, mutual acquaintances, curious seasonal sights in the Greatwood; occasionally the conversation dipped into darker paths, but never for long. It was good just to chat and catch up, and before they knew it the hour had grown late enough that it was time to bid each other goodnight and head to their respective homes.