Abbey Interview (MT, Chyril 23)

[Fredric Abaddon]

As he walked, Fredric strengthened his resolve and honed his arguments. Surely, if the Archbishop still mourned the loss of the Army of the One, he would jump at the vengence that Fredric offered.

"Not 'vengence', 'Justice' " …

Yes, that sounded more spirtual. Justice. After reading “Profiles in Faith,” the cleric would thirst for justice. He would be shocked but not satiated by “Compassionate Slavery.” Only then would Fredric reveal his “institusional gossiping” proposal. In the young revolutionary’s imaginings , he saw the old cleric respond by jumping up , clicking his heels together and pledging unlimited amounts of monies to ensure the project’s success.

The only thing that the single-minded Oneist was unsure of when he arrived at the Abby was how to present his pro-emigration campaign – “Aveas:Land of…”. It didn’t easily fit into his talk of veng…Justice. Still, Fredric had a feeling that it was too important not to mention…..and then there was the printing venture,also …"Hmmm"… Oh, well. He would play it by ear and trust Dominicus to guide him. He opened the Abby door and entered.

The spires of the Abbey tower over the Seams, the gargoyles looking down upon its citizens in warning. The foreboding dark look of the building belies the devotion that can be found within. A modest wooden door with an iron handle opens up to a long gallery and peaceful garden.

The peacefulness of the garden contrasted with the perpetual urban chaos outside, causing the former monk-in-training to wax nostalgic. At that moment, he could think of no better way of life than the Monk’s peaceful existance.

"If things were different…."

Now, however, there was a job to do – a Council to bring down. He could reminisce later.

Fredric walked up to the first person he could find and asked for directions to the Upper Calefactory.

[Sevti]

The first person to come to Fredric's attention was a young man in cleric's robes. He entered the garden from a small door to the side of the gallery. His lower lip was caught between his teeth, his brows low over his dark eyes. One slim hand rose of it's own volition to slide through his untidy black hair. "But if it was that simple..." he murmured to himself as he stepped carefully over a low wall into the garden proper.

His distracted footsteps took him close to the former monk-in-training. The sound of Fredric's voice caused him to start, a hand flying to his chest in surprise. "I... I'm sorry, senior," he apologized, flustered. "I was so deep in thought that I saw you not. Directions, you asked? To the Upper Calefactory?" His plain face broke into a smile. "I was heading there myself, so it would seem that Dominicus truly smiles upon you this day. If you will follow me?"

The young cleric gestures with a gentle movement of his hand to the space beside him.

[Fredric Abaddon]

“Thank you for your kindness. I truly do hope the One is guiding my steps today.”

The non-monk fell in step with the young monk. He silently prayed for that guidance, especially for divine help in impressing the Archbishop.

“By the way, brother, my name is Fredric. Good to meet you,” he said politely. As they continued walking through the garden, he drank in its serenity, letting the natural peacefulness calm his nervous heart. Anxiety mustn’t be allowed to interfere with his destiny. This meeting was crucial to his future…. and the city’s future.

“So tell me ,brother, what are your duties here?” he asked. “I admit I am somewhat envious. Entering your order was my goal for many a yahren. I would have too ….but I felt my feet guided down a different path. We shall see what happens with that but do tell me about yourself.”

[Sevti]

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Fredric," the young man replied, his head dropping in a slight nod in the newcomer's direction. "My name is Camillo. I've been lucky enough that Dominicus guided me upon this path since I was quite young. And while I'm sorry that you were unable to join our illustrious order, it is true the Domincus guides us to where he needs us most. I'm certain that your path will be full of his light."

He lead them slowly through the length of the garden. For all his earlier agitation, stepping into the garden with a guest in tow seemed to smooth the cleric's mood until he was as peaceful as the garden around him. "I am lucky enough to have been guided by the One God to care for the library of his Word." A small chuckle passed it's way through pressed lips. "Some of the others have compared the books to my children, had I not been called to Domincus' side. But I can't help it. They have such secrets to impart to his, such wonders to give anyone willing to look." His dark eyes closed momentarily and his lips curved into a small smile. As his eyes opened a soft sigh escaped.

"And what of you?" he asked, turning his attention back to his guess. "What path has Domincus guided you upon?"

[Fredric Abaddon]

“Librarian. That sounds like a pleasant path. I, too, am a lover of books and a bit of a writer…. Though I’d have to say that I’m more enthusiastic than skillful. Still, I understand the reverence you have for your tomes. Each, to different extents, contains hard-fought wisdom and valuable knowledge. These are the very building blocks of our civilization... You’ve an important charge.”

Fredric complimented the bibliophile. “Start a conversation by praising a man’s work or a woman’s children and you’ll end it with a friend,” goes the old saying. Proud of himself for having accomplished the two suggestions in one accolade, he wondered if it was true. Did he love books? …He liked them. He liked the power they had to change minds but no, not love. Still, for this conversation, he would. As long as his intentions were good, he considered ‘truth’ to be a flexible concept.

“In fact, after this meeting I’m going to visit your secular peers. I need some “secrets imparted” and I hope they have some books to help me out.”

“As for my path…Well, that’s the question of the day. Time will tell. I am meeting with his Eminence presently. I plan to offer my secular services in gathering in his flock. The loss on Aveas of the holy army and the end of the war has created amongst the faithful – laymen and even some clergy- a feeling of aimlessness and vague unease. I would like to share with his Holiness my ideas on how we could re-enthuse and reinvigorate the faithful. Dominicus willing, I may be able to do some good.” While he preferred the “destroy the wicked-honor the slain” explanation, he pegged the monkish bookworm as a touchy-feely type and so modified his description accordingly.

“I’ve done a good deal of study, already, but there isn’t a whole lot written about the war on Aveas. Do you think your collection has anything about that coveted island and what happened there?”

[Sevti]

OOC: Sorry about the delay with this post. As I said in the Banter thread, things here have gone a little on the kablooey side!

The compliment made Camillo's eyes shine with excitement. Another bibliophile to speak with! Ah, for the time to do so. But as Fredric spoke of meetings after meetings, the light dimmed.

"They do have many books that speak of mysteries," he agreed, speaking of the librarians outside of the Abbey. "But, of course, there are no mysteries as great as those of Dominicus. If you don't find what you're looking for among their tomes, I would be happy to assist you looking in our own library."

Camillo listened intently as Fredric spoke of his path and of his plans. He nodded gravely as the man spoke of the loss that the war caused. "If you can help his Eminence regain what we have lost, there will be much for the Church to thank you for. So many have lost heart that it has been difficult to motivate them. I wish you luck in your quest."

The cleric was continued guiding Fredric in silence, his arms crossed and his forefinger tapping lightly against his lips as he contemplated the final question. "I can only think of one writing," he finally replied as his hands left their comfortable place around his body to push open a door leading into the towers of the Abbey.

"One of the Faithful that was lucky to survive wrote his impressions and left a copy of them here. He felt that it was important for the Church to have a true accounting of what transpired, rather than working from hearsay and suspicion," he explained. "I know it has arrived, but I am not certain where it was placed. If you would permit me time, I will seek it out for you. When you have free time to do so, you can come back to read it."

Beyond the door lay a broad set of stairs leading upward. Camillo's soft steps trod upon them as he lead the pair to their destination.

[Fredric Abaddon]

OOC: No prob. Real life is busy over here too.

“I shall take you up on that.” Fredric said. “Reading a believer’s account of the Aveasian war would be invaluable. It is always good to know how others perceive things. ” Not that there was any chance of his opinion being swayed from its current rabid position.. His proposed project determined his opinion not vice-verse. Still, an eyewitness account would be a cornucopia of facts and facts, carefully selected and prepared, added a flavor of validity to one’s stories. “I will make it a point to stop by in the next day or two…I can read that book and you can show off your ‘children.’ ”

“You never know who might be useful to the struggle, “ Fredric reflected to himself. “The One teaches us to treat all humans with respect and kindness. That, truly, is the best way…especially when you intend to use them to accomplish your goals. Kindness leads to friendship and friendship to offers of help. Yes,” he concluded. “Faked interest is a helpful tool to both the monk and the revolutionary. Dominicus is most wise.”

Up the stairs, the hopeful non-monk followed. His mind returning to the scheduled audience, he prayed for the hundredth time this morning that he’d secure the great man’s support.

[Sevti]

"I will have it ready for you," the young cleric promised.

Camillo did not push the conversation any further, letting them ascend the stairs in silence. If Fredric had questions for him, then he'd quite happily answer them, but the young man did know the value of silence.

Once their feet were upon the landing, Camillo's voice filled the air once more. Before them stood an unassuming door made of simple wood and brass. "We've arrived," he told his guest, his hand on the simple handle, pulling it forward. With one hand, he ushered Fredric in before him.

Inside the door was a large, plain room. Several hallways lead off in different directions, almost starlike in their placement. To the right of the door stood a small desk. Behind it sat an ancient monk, his hair wisps atop his head. His head rose slowly as the pair entered, focusing on them with watery blue eyes.

"I hope you find what you are looking for," he bowed, hands together, a smile upon his face as he rose once more. "And I look forward to seeing you once again in a few days time." He took a path off to the left, leaving Fredric alone with the older monk. "May I help you?"

[Fredric Abaddon]

After thanking Brother Camillo for his assistance, Fredric again expressed his intention to visit the monks beloved book collection on the morrow. With those pleasantries done, he turned to the ancient cleric, whom he assumed to be the archbishop’s aide.

“May I help you.”

“Good Morning, sir.” He said cheerfully. “My name is Fredic Abaddon. I was told that his Excellency had kindly agreed to see me this morning.” He smiled at the elderly cleric and waited.

Trying not to be obvious, the calculating non-cleric tried to take the measure of the aged brother.

“Doorkeeper to the city’s most powerful cleric is a key position. A good man to have on my side,” he thought.

The uniformity of dress and hair style necessitated by the rules of the monastic order made snap judgements harder to formulate. Still, there were some clues to even a monk’s character that could be gleaned from his appearance. Were the fingernails trimmed? Was the robe clean and pressed or stained and rumpled? Did his eyes appear intelligent? The answers to any of those questions could give hints on how to handle this man. Fredric studied the man as he waited.

[Sevti]

As the non-monk had surmised, the typical signs were not there for him to read. However, the little things pointed toward a shrewed, thorough man. The wisps of hair that covered his pate were neatly combed, his face freshly scrubbed. His fingers had a faint dark stain at their well manicured tips, indicative of one who spends much time writing. The robes, though covering him from neck to toe, fit him well and looked to be clean pressed. All together a competent sight to anyone seeking audience with the archbishop.

The older man studied him for a moment, taking in the same qualities in Fredric that Fredric had been studying in him. Satisfied, he said, "Yes, Signor. I was told to expect you. I appreciate your promptness. If you'll follow me, I will announce you."

The old man rose in one fluid movement and walked quickly down the hall to his immediate right. Just to watch him walk, one would never be able to guess his age. There was a surety to his step that was seldom found in one of advanced yahren. He looked neither right nor left as he traversed the candle-lit corridor, nor did he look behind him to see if Fredric was following.

It would be easy to tell the man's final destination. Only one door lay on the length of the hall. It was a large door, covered in shining brass that glinted in the candlelight, waiting silently at the end of the hall. The aide walked purposefully too it, rapped his knuckles upon it with a loud staccato snap. A flicker or two later, he pulled it open and, stepping inside, announced, "Fredric Abbadon to see you, Your Excellency, according to your appointment."

No sound came from inside the room, but the man stepped aside, holding the door open for the taller man to enter. Once Fredric was inside, he let the door close, leaving him alone with the hopeful beginning of his dream.

The room was spacious, with large windows that spanned from floor to ceiling covering two of the walls. In the spaces between the walls hung depictions of Dominicus striking down his enemies. The enemies took many forms, as did the punishments. But in all, it was proven that Dominicus was the stronger.

One of the other walls was taken up with a large bookshelf. Nearby stood a large, sturdy desk covered with papers and an open book or two. An inkwell sat perched on the corner, quill waiting at the ready. A large empty chair sat behind it with two, less comfortable chairs waiting before it.

Before the expanse of windows was a seating area. A variety of chairs, both comfortably stuffed and simply austere sat in a circle. In one of the chairs - a straight backed chair built more for utility than comfort sat the archbishop. He did not turn as Fredric entered, but rather continued to look from the height of the abbey at the town below. From behind, the non-monk could tell the archbishop still had much of his thick dark hair. His frame suggested that he spent far more time at worship than at the dining table. The robes her wore were not much different from his aide's, though they were a far better quality.

"Is it not beautiful?" he sighed, his eyes remaining fixed outward.

[Fredric Abaddon]

“Yes, your Eminence. Very beautiful indeed,” Fredric responded as he studied the dramatic paintings hanging on the walls. “…and inspirational,” he added ,for it did inspire him though not with the religious zeal that the artists intended. The imagery of Dominicus’s inevitable victory over all opposition stood in stark contrast to the unpleasant realities of what had happened on Aveas. A man who had this paintings in his inner sanctum could not help but see and be troubled by the jarring contrast. If Fredric could paint his project (and the creation of his new organization) as the next step on the road to victory in Aveas, that disquieting contrast would disappear. The One’s victory could be seen as just postponed. A battle was lost – not a war. A troubled man will grab at hope as a drowning swimmer grabs for a preserver. Perhaps, this argument would grab the Archbishop.

Hoping that he had read the situation correctly, the non-cleric dropped his much practiced “Avenge the dead!” speech. Instead, he determined to follow his inspiration – praying that it had come from the One.

“Truly, nothing can stand in the way of our god and his purposes,” he began. “With your permission, that is what I’d like to discuss with you. It is my understanding that the One intends to claim Aveas for his own. I would humbly like to suggest a way…a peaceful way in which you, the church, and an organization I intend to create can assist Him in achieving that aim.”

Waiting for the great man’s permission to continue, the young propagandist remained silent for a moment. Watching for the cleric to turn around, he prepared to bow deeply. Not exactly sure of the etiquette, he would keep an eye out for an indication that kissing the man’s ring would be appropriate. If so he would gladly show his respect to mother church in that way.

[Aislinn O`Conaill]

Without rising, the archbishop lifted fingers to gesture the young man forward, and with a gentle shift of his hand, offered the newcomer his choice of the various seats available, some upholstered and cushioned, others more spare of frame.

Once Fredric was seated, the archbishop drew his eyes from his perusal of the abbey and studied the young man, the thickly lidded eyes watchful, despite the serene expression cast upon his austere and creased features.

The Archbishop's hands lay quiet on the armrests of his chair, where they rested loosely. It was apparent no such reverence as kissing was expected, though one hand bore a thick stately ring of his office.

"Hm." The gentle cough cleared his throat, as he nodded, settling back in his chair. "So you are the young man the Inquisitor spoke of, with rather strong opinions of the council and their ways." His voice was quiet, calm, thoughtful.

"Do continue, my Son. The One uses many means and people to do His great work." For now, it seemed the archbishop was prepared to listen.

[Guido Cercatoro]

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