From being an Abandoned who had rarely left the Hollowed Grounds, to embracing the call of adventure, to dying and being reborn first as an Ascended and then as an Ancient, Maea has gone through quite the amount of changes in her life. One thing remains common, though, in her attempts to find out just where she belongs; she’s always had a craving for knowledge which has brought her to so many places and to meet so many people here in Caido. We can’t wait to see what else is in store for her!
Congratulations, Maea!
Credits
Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
Skinning and hosting by the epically talented Kaons, and functionality fanciness by the coding magic of Neowulf. If you ever see either of them around, make sure to show them some love!
When Morgan had been informed they once again had a spymaster, she found herself intrigued to meet them. The position had been empty for far too long, after all, and she'd taken on a lot of the duties herself, sending out scouts into all the new places opened up by the portals and recording what they found, collecting information on the overwhelming rediscovered world at their feet. It would be good to have a chance to refocus on her actual duties once she could be satisfied that 'Peter' would take on the role well.
She had asked to meet him in the Palace, purposefully refraining from making judgement until she saw him, though from a cursory glance earlier she had felt he looked rather sickly. Morgan once would have disapproved of his being an Outlander, but given she had a healthy amount of respect for Neron, it could no longer be a reason to stop someone taking a seat. No matter - it was good to have your mind opened and expanded every so often, to a limit.
Kneeling first to pray at a window, looking out at the snow on the mountains, she asked the wise spirits and beings there to grant her intelligence in this new meeting, to bless them all with a wise companion in their party. With that done she stood, pulled her cloak around herself (even inside, she rarely took off her cloak, gloves and heavy boots) and entered the sitting room where she had asked Peter to meet her, a little early. Sitting down at the head of the table, legs too long for the chair and stretching out before her a little awkwardly, she waited calmly, watching the sun shine on the melting snow outside.
with his new role, Peter felt it was only appropriate he meet not only the other members of Nerons council, but the other military leaders as well, and it seems he is not the only one with that thought. The general herself sends him a note, giving him a time and place. He had to imagine he had seen her, at least in passing, but he could not for the life of him put a face to the name signed on the letter. Morgan
So, without any idea what to expect, he prepares for anything. His clothes are neat, well fitted to him, and in the families customary black, with a single blue scarf wrapped around his throat and his shoulders. It killed him to have to pick only one, but he needed to make the best possible impression. If this worked how he thought it did, it was likely they’d be working closely with one another, and he wants to set a strong foundation for that bridge.
As he entered their agreed upon meeting place, early, of course, he was greeted by a woman sitting at the table. Morgan, he could only presume. Peter kept moving, closing the distance between, between them until he was close enough that they could talk civilly, but not so close that he could be run through. ”Good morning.” He calls, bowing his head to her, ”It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Peter. Thank you for inviting me to meet you.”
and our memories defeat us
and I’ll end this duress
As Peter entered Morgan silently turned to look at him, smiling just a little to herself, corner of her mouth turning up; he really did dress like a Spymaster. While she usually disapproved of gaudy or impractical dress, in this case she actually thought it fitting enough to be excusable.
Standing when he got close enough she nodded to him and held out a hand, the other resting the pommel of the sword in her belt. "General Aristomache. You may call me Morgan." This was a privilege that would be revoked if Peter proved to be troublesome, in which case she would immediately become 'General' again. "This is not merely a social call. Sit down."
She sat back in the chair, pulling out a chain of beads from a pocket in her cloak and running them through her fingers as she spoke - if Peter focused, he'd see each one bore a small face, ghostly carved into the pale surface. "I understand you are an Outlander. What is it you think makes you able to control the Spy network for Halo?" Her voice was not necessarily disparaging, not yet. He still had the chance to prove himself.
Morgan. Being on a first name basis with the General was not a privilege he had expected right away, but one that he accepted with a quiet nod. He looks at the offered chair, steps closer as if he is going to sit, but never makes the move to. "I would... prefer to stand, if you don't mind." He explains softly, bare hands gripping the back of the chair, the scars there stretching pale and strange.
His eyes move over her as she sits, pulls out a string of... beads? Strange. It's information he files away for later, when he doesn't have to be so focused on making a good impression. He nods again when she says he's an outlander, as if she needs his confirmation to be sure. The question though, gives him pause, and he takes a moment to think, nearly drawing his lip between his teeth before remembering the company he's in. "I have been in positions like this for... most of my life." His words are slow, but steady, his tongue careful to not stumble over anything.
It takes him another breath to figure out how to consolidate everything, all of his skills, his experience, into an easy few words, how to make them convincing. "When I was young, I... helped with the training of soldiers and spies in the camp I lived in, and... when I was older I was second in command in a similar organization." He shifted then, lifting his chin a little in an uncharacteristic show of confidence, a show only made to make his next words less disparaging. "This is a... larger group than I have worked with before, but it seems to have been well run without someone like me."
and our memories defeat us
and I’ll end this duress
Morgan gave Peter a look when he said he'd prefer to stand, trying to work out just what his reasons could be. Hiding something, perhaps. Getting ready to make a sudden move. Just wanting to show disrespect...or...she supposed he was quite short. Maybe he didn't want to lower himself below her. Whatever it was, she found it odd and marked it in her mind as something to remember.
As Pet spoke she threaded the beads through her fingers, one for the end of each sentence. For a moment after he was done there was silence as she stared down at them, then her eyes met again with his.
"You helped with training. That is good, but I want to know your experience. Tell me of a time you secured information for your master." It seemed he'd need some pushing to get the answers she wanted.
If Peter is at all put off by her brusqueness, he doesn’t let it show on his face. He barely lets his eyes stray from hers, save for that initial glance down to her beads, even if she’s not looking at him. The fact that she needs specifics of his experience does irk him a little bit, another thing he refuses to show, instead thinking for a moment before simply offering the most recent.
”Just before I came... here, I was tasked with... finding the plans for a specific building, finding the... weak points, and setting explosive charges.” It had been a mission he wasn’t supposed to come back from, one that he supposed he didn’t come back from, though death hadn’t claimed him yet. ”The plans were kept in a central office. I secured the... the pity of the woman who... ran the doors, and convinced her to let me in. She did, and I found the plans, made a copy, and returned them before they were missed. And I brought the copy back to my master.”
The only word he really trips over is the last one. Peter had just been trying to mimic her words, but it leaves him with a bad taste in his mouth. Too close to the reality of the situation.
and our memories defeat us
and I’ll end this duress
While Peter would not know it (or at least, not for some time), Morgan began to find herself admiring the way he continued to meet her eye and speak for himself; it spoke of enough confidence to be able to handle the job. There would be mistakes and difficult missions and hard leaders, one who was fragile would crumble and risk the Citadel.
She was unfamiliar with 'explosive charges', or at least she did not quite know what he meant in that specific language, but did not ask. To appear unknowledgable in front of a new recruit seemed unwise. It was clear he had been tasked with bringing the building down, regardless. An ability to target 'weak points' could indeed be advantageous if they ever did come to all out war.
"I see. Impressive work, if you speak the truth. One last thing: You will need to command and manage a team of spies underneath you, as a Spymaster. Are you confident in your ability to take control of such a team?" There were always nuances to being a leader. Times to go soft, times to be harsh, when to make sacrifices...in her time as Captain, she'd learnt many of them.
'If you speak the truth.' The phrasing makes Peter's lips tighten, pulling into a thin line. He shifts, trying to let it sit, trying to keep his chin up over it, but he can't help the words that come out first when he answers her question. "I have no reason to lie. Not to you." He gives the statement a moment to stand on its own, then continues.
"I can control a... a team." He wonders if shes just brought him here to belittle him, clearly Neron considered him competent enough, a fact that still surprised him, but there had to be something there. "I... I would not have accepted this role if I didn't think I could do it." Pet's eyes focus on her face, watching for the reaction, to see if he's answered correctly or not.
There is a razors edge of confidence that comes out when he needs it, when it is necessary, and he can feel it now, cutting him off from anything that isn't work, that isn't doing what needs to be. It's a part of him he wishes he didn't need, but that seems like it will get lots of use in Halo.
and our memories defeat us
and I’ll end this duress
The way Pet's lips tightened and his eyes hardened, the tension, the new confidence in his answers: all of it made Morgan smile, pleased to see a bit of spirit in their new recruit. "Good. Then it sounds like you are ready for it." Whether or not he'd actually live up to the promise of this new boldness was to be seen, but for the moment she had enough faith in him to leave it to the future.
Settling back in her chair, she looked him over now with the smile still on her lips, raised one eyebrow. "Do you have any questions for me, then? I am nothing if not fair." She prided herself on her sense of respect and fairness, her willing to have whatever she laid out returned upon her.
Peter’s brows rose slightly, no other reaction to the smile that spread over her face, the suddenly pleased, suddenly approving tone to her voice. A test then, one that he seems to have done well in, though he doesn’t know why. And really, that’s the most irritating thing, to do well and not know how.
She turned the floor back to him, and he considered. ”What kind of... training, do you have in place? Right now? And what... information are you prioritizing?” If he had a better idea how she ran things, he might have a better idea slotting into the role himself.
and our memories defeat us
and I’ll end this duress
The little man (condescending, perhaps, but to Morgan he really was quite little) didn't seem to be content with her approval, but it was not of interest to Morgan to wonder why. He was not her underling directly and did not need to follow her orders, most of the time.
The question he asked caused her to pause and think; there were several answers but she knew the best way to get something done by someone else was to simplify the task. "Spy training is not my expertise. I train all guard and army recruits with the help of my top officers in the art of combat, but I am not an expert in stealth. Any of that training, you will need to organise yourself." She was hardly all swords and blood, but Morgan had never really learnt subtlety either.
"As for information...anything on Whitebrim, the town of exiles in the mountains, what they do, how they live. Then of course, any intelligence about these new areas opening up to us would be advantageous." Torchline, The Hollowed Ground, The Greatwood...all mysteries and all potentially dangerous.
02-03-2020, 06:47 AM (This post was last modified: 02-03-2020, 06:47 AM by Peter.)
PETER
”So... a new training regimen is needed.” Peter clarified, pursing his lips as he thought about it. ”The spies who are... working now, are they all... older, then?” A roundabout way of asking if anyone new had been trained under her, or if she’d allowed the priority to slip. He can work with either, really, he just needs to know where he’s approaching from.
As for the information though, it’s all things he’s already heard from Neron. The consistency makes him relax a touch, for the first time since he’s arrived. Like finally, he’s made it to solid ground after sinking ankle deep into mud. ”I will arrange to get those things taken care of.” He said curtly. ”Is there... anything else you think I should know?” Thus far, Morgan seemed a prudent and capable leader, and he wondered at what she would suggest.
and our memories defeat us
and I’ll end this duress
"There is a range...about ten in their youth, teenagers or only a little older. A few more older than that. Spies...tend to die rather young." Morgan hesitated only because she thought if Peter was not aware of that fact, it might put him off his work, but it was best he knew the truth of things now. People that snuck around and were not necessarily well versed in combat had a tendency to be easily picked off.
Anything else he needed to know...Morgan considered, turning to look out of the window for a while. "Just one thing. If you serve us well, I will be to you a great ally. If you are a fool and cost us, I will be your greatest enemy." Hopefully, he would take those words to heart.
”The youngest trained... by you then?” Peter nodded, more to himself than to her, his mind full of training ideas, ways to meld what he had gone through with a gentler hand. He looked up again at the comment of dying young though, a frown on his face. ”Different training should help.” The words come out a little forcefully, though he’s already going over acceptable losses in his head.
He cocked his head as the captain turned to look out the window, taking the moment to really consider her. ”All I can offer you is my best.” Peter returned. His best was very good though, had always been more than enough, and he didn’t think it would be lacking here. ”I think... you’ll be happy with it.”
and our memories defeat us
and I’ll end this duress
