Comm ID: [TAZ]Sophie.Noir
To: Moira W., the Veranda
Moira hon,
If Reggie was appalled at the state of the Perfect Blossom, you'd be flabbergasted by things here, sorry to say.
The pies I brought by a week ago are untouched and stale, except for one slice of coconut creme, which I'm told one of the barmaids filched without paying for. Apparently Mollys don't care for pie.
There are cobwebs in the corners, the auto-dryer in the ladies' 'fresher isn't working, and half the glassware was broken in a brawl three days ago. No replacements were even ordered.
Clientele? Meh.. two Iridium haulers were nursing Greenstripes, one Zoner came in lost, asking for directions to Cortez, and the Mollys who had the brawl left without even offering to pay for damages.
One room upstairs is still booked long-term to a guy named Finn McCool, but he hasn't been seen for months. The housekeepers are afraid to go in the room for fear they'll find a corpse..
Dunno what to tell ya Moira. Only way to get the Mollys back would be to book female mud-wrestling on weekends, and cockroach races during the week.
I have a theory.. people are too damn busy whissing and moaning about the state of affaris in Sirius to be looking for entertainment.
Either that, or the old saying that "war's good business" is a crock of mildewed malarky.
He had visited the establishment several times on trade runs from the Omegas to Gallia.
Nothing had changed. The place was still dusty, unkempt, and distinctly devoid of any customers. Whoever owned this "Haven of Hope", beautiful as it was under the grime, was severely neglecting it.
He walked to the long oaken bar, noticing the pitiful selection of drink remaining on the shelves behind it.
"Bonjour, sir. May I enquire as to who owns this... establishment?"
The barkeep scratched his head, opened a drawer, and shuffled through a pile of papers.. "Umm.. that would be Waverly LLC, sir. They have offices on Canaria and Shasta Outpost."
The Grand Master nodded. "So, the five-fingered Erisian hand touches even here. Do you have a contact number, M'sieur?"
He took the offerred number and turned towards the entrance.
"It will have to do."
<span style="font-family:Trebuchet Ms">Brotherhood of Light ~ Grenoble ~ Belfast
The place stank of disinfectant and furniture polish, but at least it was habitable again. There were actually a few paying Molly customers downstairs in the Bistro. Upstairs, in his private office, the Grand Master conversed with Brother St. Germain.
"Brother Germain, in order to be accepted here in Bretonia, we must keep a delicate balance. While my trade expeditions into Bretonia and Kusari have increased our treasury, we must always be mindful of the laws these Sirians seem to love so much. Restrictions here, embargos there... it causes one to dance on the head of a pin!"
"Understood, Master Cagliostro. We will be commissioning another l'Ane transport within the week. I will personally see that Brother Paschal has the necessary information and charts."
"C'est bon, Geri. And the rest of our Inner Council? What of Sister Lilith?"
"Still missing, Grand Master. All attempts at locating her have failed. I am sorry."
"The woman is as crazy as her namesake, Geri, but she is ferocious in battle. Continue the search, please."
"Very well, mon ami. And the matters of diplomacy you mentioned?"
"Ah, oui. I believe we must soon present our credentials as 'Free Gallians' to the Houses of Sirius. It is also critical that we establish relations with those in and near the Taus who are the first line of defense against the approaching Royalist onslaught. You will be our Order's emmisary to those valiant souls, while I shall focus on the Sirian Houses."
"I will not fail the Brotherhood, Grand Master."
"I know you will not, mon ami. May the All-seeing Eye of Privas watch over you in your travels."
The two men rose, and exchanged the three symbols of their Order. Right arm raised to heaven, left arm parallel to Earth; both arms raised to heaven; both arms crossed at chest.
L. V. X.
Light.
<span style="font-family:Trebuchet Ms">Brotherhood of Light ~ Grenoble ~ Belfast
Brother Paschal slid quietly into a small booth at the rear of the bar, his head and shoulders shrouded in a hooded cloak, preventing recognition from curious eyes.
When the barkeep approached, Paschal ordered beer and along with a few credits, pressed a small, rectangular pendant resembling an Eye, an ancient symbol of the Illuminati into the outstretched hand.
“Please pass this to the Owner......”
The barkeep nodded and with his beer now served Paschal waited patiently until he heard approaching steps....
“Brother Paschal, you made it! Step this way, Good to see you!”
“ And you Master Cagliostro!” Paschal rose and was led away to the Masters’ private offices......
“Well met my friend!” Exclaimed Cagliostro when they were comfortable “What news do you have for me?”
“The good news is that I now have our new l’Ane transport commissioned, Br. St. Germaine provided me with access codes for passage here. I would never have found you otherwise.
Bad news from Gallia though. There is a rising torrent of chill emanating from the hungry, oppressive forces of evil, SHE is gathering Royalist forces and whipping her acolytes into to a frenzied state. I fear it is inevitable that in only a short time we will see HER vile disease spill into Sirius. The Sense of the Eye tells me we may have only a short time to prepare before the fragile peace is shattered..... And my intelligence in Gallia tells me that nearly all the moves have been made and SHE is on the verge of invasion....“
Master Cagliostro frowned at the news. "Hmm..Time is pressing indeed, let me tell you of our progress here in the borders with Sirius..."
A little used private comms link chimed in the Maitre de's office. He glanced curiously at the source location before making the connection.
"Bonsoir, Hope's Haven. Tonight on ze menu we are featuring.."
"Oh belay that bollocks, Frenchie! Tell your Grand Master I must meet with him immediately!"
"M'sieur, eh.. " he looked again at the source ID, "M'sieur Waverly, I have no knowledge of zis "Grand Mast..."
"Und Ewige Schlangekraft!!! Now will you deliver the bloody message?!?"
"....Oui. Continue, sir."
"I will arrive tomorrow before breakfast. You do serve breakfast, don't you?"
Impudent Zoner! No wonder "le Roi" 'ates zem! "M'sieur.. our Continental breakfast includes.."
"Tell him the matter is urgent. It may involve Imminatizing the Eschaton. Got that, garcon?"
The line went dead before the Maitre de' could even acknowledge. He was furious at this "Waverly", but he knew full well the implications of his message.
He made haste up the ornate stairway to the Lodge above, where another message would be sent to Grenoble.
Comte Cagliostro wasted no time. He ordered the Eye of Privas prepared for immediate launch.
Brother St. Germain's normally placid demeanor had seemed visibly shaken by the message he had conveyed to Grenoble.
That in itself was enough to convince the Grand Master that he should honor the Zoner's request.
A new Era was one thing. Civilization had survived the transition countless times in the past, and his Order had been there in one form or another to guide humanity through the Chaos.
But.. the Eschaton.. that would be a completely different matter.
He should make Belfast easily by morning, if there were no Royalist patrols lurking about Orkney or the Tau systems. He boarded the Asco just as the final flight checks were being made.
Within moments they had been cleared for launch, and had set course for Languedoc.
<span style="font-family:Trebuchet Ms">Brotherhood of Light ~ Grenoble ~ Belfast
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