[Center][img]https://i.imgur.com/ubDydDb.png[/img][hr][hr][b][colour=006633]Event:[/colour][/b] The Crisian [b]|[/b] [b][colour=006633]Location:[/colour][/b] Ersand'Enise.[hr][hr][/center]
The quill scratched relentlessly across the parchment, leaving a trail of jet-black ink in its wake, forming intricate Kressian cursive script. These meticulously transcribed cards, once dried and catalogued, became prized additions to the ever-expanding labyrinth of knowledge housed within Taleja's zettelkasten. She knew, perhaps better than most, that information was the true currency of power, and power was the wellspring of strength. Each detail, each whisper, was a piece of a puzzle that, when assembled correctly, could unveil secrets hidden in the shadows.

Her journey through Kerremand to the enigmatic town of Mandelein had been nothing short of fruitful. Among the myriad of leads, one name stood out prominently: 'Comte Mirabeau.' He was to be her starting point, the first domino in a long line of secrets waiting to be tipped. But in the clandestine world of espionage, Taleja knew that even the most meticulously laid plans could have blind spots, and her efforts have revealed a network of intrigue and a clandestine organization informally known only as the ‘Hourglass Order’, after the one of legend.

Her own blind spot was her fellow students, the very individuals she had shared lecture halls and libraries with. However, since, Taleja was not one to underestimate the power of tongues wagging and the innate human desire to share secrets. She had managed to compile a list of key figures within the Hourglass Order, and at the heart of it all was Jocasta Re, a name whispered in the shadows with both reverence and trepidation, and a recent early promotion to Tan-Zeno.

From there, the network of contacts began to unravel, forming intricate patterns and revealing hidden connections. The strings of information extended from the efforts of the late Hugo Hunghorasz to his successors, Claresse Upta and Karan Harachorra, and each card containing vital knowledge that would shape her understanding of the Hourglass Order. Names repeated like a haunting refrain, linked together on the sprawling anacapa chart that adorned the walls of her backroom.

In the depths of the night, when most were blissfully ignorant of the conspiracies that wove through their lives, Taleja remained vigilant. As the quill scratched on, she knew that she was on the cusp of unravelling something greater.

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[colour=301934]“Mi’lady, are you the Crisian?”[/colour] A soft murmur emanated from the doorway, where a meek-mannered woman stood.

Taleja arched an eyebrow at the question, her sharp eyes scrutinizing the figure that graced her doorway. She didn't recognize the woman, but there were telltale signs of a disguise meant to blend into the worker's district, albeit a bit too clean for the late hour. Furthermore, the door had remained unopened until this woman's arrival, a clear intimidation tactic. Temporal magic? No, the entrance would have been rougher if that were the case. This individual had to be a Greyborn, like Sister Laska, with a background in clandestine activities. There were a few operators who fit this profile, but which one stood before her now?

Taleja, maintaining her composure, offered a sweet smile as she extended a chair to the woman and began pouring a cup of tea. [colour=006633]"I have been referred to as such before, but it would be impolite not to introduce ourselves. Please, take a seat,"[/colour] she said, gesturing toward the vacant space.

There was a moment of hesitation before the woman finally moved toward the chair. She knew she was stepping into a potentially dangerous situation. Taleja continued to smile as she stirred her tea with a spoon and then took a sip.

[colour=301934]“Brother Baudile informed us you might be able to help us in this discreet matter, Mi’lady,"[/colour] the woman said, handing over a parchment that listed a series of names. Names that were all too familiar.

Taleja glanced at the parchment and then back at the woman. [colour=006633]“I see. I too, like to carry out the work of the Gods.”[/colour] She carefully read through the names before rolling up the parchment. With a quill in hand, she jotted down her price and handed the paper to the woman. She then took another sip of her tea.

The other woman examined the paper. [colour=301934]“This is not a number.”[/colour]

Taleja nodded in agreement. [colour=006633]“Correct. Feel free to escalate it to the most appropriate authority,”[/colour] she replied, her tone unwavering. She placed her tea cup back on its saucer.

The woman folded the paper and pocketed it, preparing to leave. [colour=301934]“That will be all.”[/colour]

[colour=006633]“Farewell, and mind the door. You might want to lift, then pull. It can get stuck,”[/colour] Taleja advised with a sickly sweet smile, watching as the woman exited. Once the visitor was out of earshot, Taleja couldn't help but ponder the intriguing connection between the Church and Jocasta Re.

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