Ali’cor was familiar with the Ducal Palace in Lucimburic.  He knew about half of it.  Even so, it was possible that the inquisitive young Elf, who had been a guest there several times (and who enjoyed general “come on over any time” guest privileges) now knew the castle better than the Duke and Duchess, though certainly not as well as Mergyon, the dedicated Weremink Majordomo, or the other regular staff.

Duke Barstow and Lady Babette seemed strangely uncurious about things, and they hadn’t been in the palace for more than fifteen months now.  There was really a lot they didn’t know.  But they were interested in people more than examining old closets and dusty attics.  So the two had a busy social calendar, and they seemed absolutely content to use only the portions of the sprawling palace that they needed.

Another reason the palace seemed an empty place:  It had been built to accommodate a large family, but the Duke and Duchess were childless.  They had known each other since childhood- The Duchy of Lucimburic is not all that big- but they hadn’t married until a year ago, shortly after the Duke had assumed the throne.  If there were any Werecubs on their way, the Duke and Duchhess hadn’t breathed a word. There were whole suites of rooms designed for youngsters and the staff that would look after them; all empty.

The only other regular inhabitants, apart from the Duke and Duchess, were Mergyon and the staff.  Ali’cor knew all the regulars by now.  Mergyon was the Majordomo in the classic sense of the word:  Head of the Household.  He ran everything, and was always concerned about strange things like protocol and propriety.  Everything had to be proper.

Arutta was a strange one.  The werewolf woman had been the Duchess… briefly, and only if one counts the reign of the Werewolf Usurper Groscius as legitimate.  Few did, but for reasons that were perplexing to outsiders, the Duke and Duchess accorded her some respect as if she had truly been Duchess of Lucimburic.  She stayed on despite her husband having been slain- by Barstow.  Lycanthropes can be weirdly forgiving of other lycanthropes.  Now, she heads up the palace’s female staff… because Mergyon would never enter the wing used by female servants, it wouldn’t be proper.

Many of the palace servants are temporary, and come from all over the Duchy.  In the Lucimburic system one owes “Duty” to the palace.  It can come in the form of service in the militia, one can provide goods or services or money, or pay another to provide the duty, but there is always the Duty- and for many families, this means providing one of their own for service for  a period of time.  This is how roads and walls and other public works are done in Lucimburic, and it is how the palace is run.

While the Duke and Duchess seem to ignore the empty wings and floors of the palace, many of the servants are much more curious.

Ali’cor returns, via the portal he’s used before, and his arrival is witnessed- sort of- by a trio of youngsters- all about his own age, but their fuzzy, whiskered faces let him know at once these are Lycanthropes.   They had been walking down the peculiar attic “gallery corridor”, talking and wondering over the statues and paintings that seem to be on display for no one… and then poof… there was Ali’cor.

”Goodness,” says a fuzzy faced young girl, “I didn’t see you!  Where did you come from?”

One of her friends, a strong looking lad with the large ears and twitching nose that marks a Wererat, says, “There’s no door there, not even a secret one.  I checked.”

Spending time amongst the old elves in Geneva always tended to help Ali'cor put things in perspective. Although, 'help' was perhaps better used in the relative sense of the word, as 'force' would be more appropriate term if one were to take into account the constant lectures that elders were always ready to rain down on him. Of course, having spent sometime by himself, without the presence of his friends, well wishers, or his sister, also helped in that regard.

He realized that for too long, he had been trying to be important; although, he knew not who he wanted to be important to, whether it was the elves only, or the world in general. However, now that he had something resembling what he wished for, he found it wanting. For even though important people now relied on him to some extent, Ali'cor felt that this was not exactly what he wanted.

And the most maddening thing about that, was that he did not know himself what he truly wanted...


Of course, all that thinking and contemplating was not something that sat well with him, and thus he eventually found himself back in the magical forest where it all started; well, it was where that started, in any event.

And before he knew, Ali'cor had followed his muscle memory, and had taken the path through the forest that led him to the Ducal Palace in Lucimburic.

He wasn't quite sure about what he should do next, but knew well enough that his duty as 'messenger' still remained; if nothing else, that would be a good first step. Ali'cor continued thinking about these things even as he had arrived at the palace.

"Uh..."

Unlike the many other times he had done this, it seemed that his arrival had been witnessed this time around.

It was a difficult situation for him, since he had always thought that his first reaction to such an occurrence would be to hide, since he had developed a dislike for 'explanations' in general during the time he had spent in Geneva. However, since he had already been seen, hiding was not realistically an option, nor was he in the mood to explain anything; but of course, there was always another way, just like how the elder elves were always found a way to 'explain' things to him over and over.

"I.. uh... was in fact already here, you just did not notice me." He said, quickly composing himself.

"How about you though..? I have not seen you three here before..."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:50, Thu 21 Feb 2013.

Ali'cor's bluff works- the three youngsters are here on temporary assignments and don't really know yet who is and who isn't a permanent resident, semi permanent worker, or guest.

The Wererat boy grins, and steps forwards, seeming to take charge of the little group.

"Well, we kina snucks up on each other, then," he says, evidently secure in the logic of 'if I did't see you then you didn't see me.'  "I'm Nitcher Farbint of the Farbints of Ulric Street."

He says this with evident pride, but Ali'cor knows this to be the "Grubby" side of town.

Nitcher points to the girl behind him and continues.  "Miss Werebunny here…"

The girl interrupts.  "Were-HARE.  There are no Werebunnies and there never have been, Nitcher."

He ignores her.  "... she's Sarmya Meadowhop.  And the spikehead there is Tembli Pikardel.  None of us's been here long, so we're lookin around.  You too, huh?"

"I see... it is.. very nice to meet you three..."

Now here was a pack of youngsters that thought about.. youngster things, and did things a youngster would do; unlike him, who was always thinking about and doing things too old for his age. It was not as if he disliked it, in fact, he yearned to be recognized for it, but...

"I..."

...things were different now, he had duties; people needed him, and depended on him, rather than simply doting over him as if he was a kid. He was important, or was he?

All his life, he felt that he had been floating along as if in a dream, trying to be someone he was not.

"...have been looking around as well, yes."

He did not feel like contemplating on the relative importance of his duties anymore; not at this moment anyhow. At the very least, it wouldn't hurt to take a slight detour and look around the place a bit more, would it?

After all, there could be more secrets here that he had not discovered yet, or which had not been revealed to him, yet.

"Have you found anything interesting?"
This message was last edited by the player at 05:04, Wed 20 Feb 2013.

”Oh, Lots!” the “Spikehead” Tembli replies.  He is the smallest of them, and as Ali’cor can see, from the spines on his head, and running down his back… a Werehedgehog.  They are a rural folk, and Ali’cor hasn’t seen many of them in the town.

”But this floor is the most puzzling of them all,” Sarmya Meadowhop says.  “It’s just a corridor, past rooms full of old junk, and some that are locked.  But the hallway is full of art.  Statues, and paintings, why don’t they put any of it on display?”

The young werehare points at a bust on a marble pedestal, in a niche in the wall about 20 feet away.  “That’s Arctologos The Vast, who built a lot of the city, and this palace.”

”No, Wererats built the palace,” Nitcher says.  “Always was Wererats doin the planning.  Still got a Wererat as Duke's Engineer.”

”S’plains a lot bout this place,” Tembli whispers.

”Built in the REIGN of Arctologos the Vast,” Sarmya corrects herself.  “And he was a great leader.  So much wouldn’t have been done without him.  And he was a great patron of the arts.  I’ll bet a lot of the stuff up here was commissioned by him.  Anyway… we are trying to decorate the palace, those are our orders, so we came up here to look for things.”

”Cause the best stuff’s always where others hid it,” Nitcher says, citing an old Wererat proverb.

As enlightening as a lesson on ancient history was, Ali'cor simply had more than enough of it while in Geneva. As such, he felt a pressing need to steer the conversation in another direction as quickly as possible.

"Uh huh... very interesting.."

"What about the decorations though?" He asked. "Any idea what they are for?"

Actually, Ali'cor would like to think that he had an idea of what they could be for; and he also knew that he should probably be moving along for the same reason instead of dawdling here, but it was always better to be sure.

He also wondered whether they had found anything more interesting than old marble pedestals and paintings, like a secret passage or the like.

With quick momentary glances around the familiar room and the hallway beyond, Ali'cor attempted to note whether anything much had changed since his last visit.

"Decorations for the solstice and the wedding,"  Sarmya Meadowhop says.  “The Duchess wants the palace to look nice.  They're expecting so many guests.  So we were looking.  The things up here... I don't think we should move them.  And there's a whole room full of other artwork, though."

"Junk," the Wererat boy says.  "I think that's where they put the bad ones."

"Well, some was nice," the girl says.  "And other rooms..."

"Most we couldn't get into cause they're locked," Tembli says.

"Hey..." Nitcher says, sounding insulted by something.

"Well you couldn't open them," Tembli says.

"I didn't open them YET," Nitcher insists.

"So... you're an Elf, not a Lycanthrope," Sarmya says.  "What are you here for?  Are you from the mission?*  Or are the Elven guests arriving already?  I want to see that!"


*Ali'cor would know she is referring to the Elven Mission, a sort of embassy/cultural enclave of the Ardennes Elves.  A lot of people, especially local children, don't really understand the difference between Ardennes Elves (Sylvan Elves) and Alps Elves (High Elves), like Ali'cor.  For them, an Elf is an Elf.

The decorations were for the wedding, as he had thought; it was a matter he should be feeling happy and excited, probably, but all Ali'cor could feel was a strange sense of disinterest, and disconnection.

In fact, he felt more interested in the locked rooms the young lycans spoke of. Of course, he remembered those from his previous visits, but he never was very good with locks and such; that didn't mean he wasn't interested though. Although, he hadn't bothered with them much before thinking that if they were locked, there was likely a good reason for it.

But now that there were others who were also interested in them, things could change. Well, they might change in any event.

"I... am not from the Mission... but I am one of the guests, yes. He decided to answer Sarmya's question first. "More like a messenger for the guests I suppose..."

"But you know.... I have been quite interested in those locked rooms myself.." Ali'cor said, regarding Nitcher for a moment. "Are you sure you cannot get them open?"

The Wererat boy bristles.  Whiskers twitch.  He looks profoundly uncomfortable with Ali’cor’s assumption.

Of course I can get them open,” he says.  “I’m a Wererat.  Just didn’t… you know, apply myself, yet.  We haven’t been here long.”

Wererats, of course, are not all thieves.  But many of the clan pride themselves on an uncanny ability to get into and out of… well.. anything.

”What about this one?” the Sarmya says, pointing to a nearby door, near the bust of Arctologos the Vast.  “You said…”

”I told you, this place was designed by a Wererat,” he says.  “So there’s ways for a Wererat to go, cause that’s what we do.

”But you said we needed a key,” Sarmya finishes.

”Well you do,” Nitcher says.  “If yer gonna get in… legit.  There are other ways.  Always other ways.  But that’s not legit.”

”You mean we could get in trouble?”  Tembli asks.

The Wererat shrugs.  “But it’s all of us or nothing.  I’m not picking a lock unless you’re all with me.”

"Oh don't worry about that..." Ali'cor said, rather cheerfully, "I wasn't supposed to be dawdling here in the first place."

After all, for all practical purposes, Ali'cor should have headed straight out of the castle and start off in the direction of.... well, that wasn't relevant.

However, Ali'cor found that his curiosity had somehow risen to tremendous levels and was presently overriding his usual sense of imminent danger that kept him from touching things that ought not to be touched.

"...and I wouldn't notice if someone opened that lock." He smirked. "But if the door were to be already open however..."

"That'd be another story."

Nitcher goes to work, and in a few minutes there is a click and...

"Got it?" Tembli asks.

"No it's... don't bug me, get out of my light.  Can't see."

A few more minutes go by.

And then, the door opens.

"What'd I tell ya?" the Wererat says triumphantly.  "Only place you get a lock that can keep a Wererat out, it was made by another Wererat."

The room is large, and very unexpectedly brightly sunlit,  though the tall arched windows are very dirty.  It is... or rather was... an art studio.  There are various works here left half done.  Unfinished relief panels carved into polished Travertine stone, easels with charcoal sketches on paper.  Several painted wood panels stacked against the wall.

The dust is very thick.  No one's been here in a long time.

There are several other doors from the studio.  Three are small, and from their look they are likely closets or small storerooms off the main studio.  One is a larger door, and it is in the wall on the left, and it looks like it would lead into another room.  And there is a spiral staircase here made of iron, leading to a small roof hatch.

Sarmya whispers quietly to Tembli and Ali'cor:  "I've always suspected it's a conspiracy between Wererat burglars and Wererat locksmiths.  They don't burgle the locks made by their kin, so it keeps business up."

"I see..." Ali'cor muttered back in reply to Sarmya's whispered words.

Although his heart wasn't really in his words; in fact he felt overwhelmed by the new sight in this familiar place. However, he also felt that he should probably not be here; but given his activities in the past few months, he had felt that often, so it was nothing new.

"Good job... uh.... Nitcher.."

Stepping lightly over the dust covered floor, Ali'cor proceeded to the middle of the room, before giving the entire place a once over.

The antique feeling of the room was almost overwhelming; and he felt certain that there would be secrets to be found here if one knew where to look.

For now though, he was more interested in discovering the rest of the place, instead of scrounging around in the antique closets.

Figuring that the other three could do enough of that for all four of them, Ali'cor proceeded straight to the spiral staircase and started climbing up towards the roof hatch, wondering whether it would be locked.