Session 145: Horse Famous

Previously, Across the Horizon...
The Nanab Foundation has done a great many things to offend members of the Starfall, but things have progressed to a completely unacceptable point.
Someone involved in preventing Celeste Meracydia from gaining a membership in the Foundation sent a threatening letter to the Starfall. This letter contained a powder that expanded and solidified into separate small plates -- plates that adhered to Linnet's skin (and later, Celeste's) during a semi-scientific test on the deck of the ship.
Had Bast's paranoia, stoked and furthered by the ship's spymaster Chmurka, not led him to intercept the letter, Celeste could have opened it and suffered grievous injuries at the very least.
This has rewarded Bast's paranoia.
And when Bast is in a good mood, he likes to spread it around.
The bulk of the Nanab Foundation's collection of important archaeological relics take up multiple warehouses on the outskirts of Thalatte, and those warehouses will be the recipient's of Bast's good cheer.
We join Bast and Yves as they get up to no small amount of trouble...
**
"Hey, you want some grenades? I've got grenades."
Yves has stopped telling Bast about how this is just like one of his favorite series of pulps, the Buddy Thieves, because he is distracted by the equipment on display. "Yes? I'm going with yes. I'm not sure I've ever thrown a grenade before. You just sort of... wing them, right?" He makes an uncertain throwing gesture.
"Little more to it, but you've got the basics." Bast checks over the rest of his equipment, clearly looking forward to using some.
Thalatte has a warehouse district, as would any important port. The Foundation's warehouses are further from the heart of the town, though, separate from those that see heavy traffic from the ships coming and going from the launching point to the eastern ocean. Four buildings nestled snugly into a gap in the rolling hills, hidden from the sea by a high cliff wall to the east. Celeste's map covers the approach and the internal layout (and the elevation changes and other topographical notes), but it is sadly light on guard patrols and other pertinent information.
Yves is full of bright-eyed enthusiasm, and without any chemical enhancement (beyond perhaps caffeine and whatever goes in those cinnamon rolls) to create it. "This is exciting, isn't it? Usually when we do heists, it turns into giant terrifying yet perhaps misunderstood all-consuming forces being summoned, but this time we're going to be stealthy the whole way through!"
"That's the idea, anyway. Always a chance things might go sideways, so you want to know how to get out before you go in. Two or three ways, ideally, so you've got some choices." Bast is looking a little bulkier than usual, a heavy jacket covering up most of his usual collection of tools. He squints at the cliff. "Sure would be nice to have someone up there with a rope ladder or something, for one. Ah well, let's see what we're working with."
"I suppose if it gets really dicey, we can always blow a hole in the wall between us and the outside, then turn into a flock of bats," Yves muses. ".........stealthily." He rubs his hands together in an attempt to look like he's planning something nefarious. (It mostly comes across like an attempt to get the last bits of frosting off his nails.) "So, in through a window, very cleverly, I suppose? Sneaking around with very small lights and avoiding any watchbeings? Checking the handwriting sample against any documents we find in various offices and archives? Referencing the presumably well-organized and thoroughly indexed records of items in storage to find out what those little tiles were and where they came from and who would have access to them? Straightforward! Easier than, uh, hm. All the examples that came to mind are actually quite difficult, so never mind that."
Bast nods. "Window's not bad if you can open it and not make a mess. If you're in a hurry you could break it, but we're here on a research mission, not just smash-and-grab. First, let's see how this place is guarded. I'm guessing they care more about their collection than their assistants, if the offer we had on that game set is any indication." He ambles slowly on a course that will give him a decent view of the warehouses, not looking interested in much but the ground before his feet.
Yves follows, attempting to amble in a very relaxed manner. He is the chillest viera out and about tonight, for sure.
Once there's a clump of trees between them and the warehouses, Bast stops, looking delighted. "Well, looks like I was wrong. Two guards? Probably just some students they saddled with this? Maybe they've got more on the inside, but I'm liking our chances so far." He sizes Yves up, nodding slowly. "Think you can be quick and quiet? Looked like they don't come around to the eastern door much."
"I will be the absolute dark, silent, speedy soul of, uh, quick and quiet," Yves assures Bast solemnly. "Should I follow you up to the door, or wait for your signal when it's time to open it up?"
"Nah, more chances to get noticed if we're moving separately. And besides, you've got the bats if this goes really bad." Bast sends a brief grin up Yves-ward, not looking especially concerned as he flips through a set of lockpicks, separating a couple for easy access before shoving the rest in a pocket. "Just need to wait for the second one to come around again, and then..." He looks around a tree back towards the warehouses, silently counting time on his fingers, before giving Yves a thumbs-up and dashing off through the short grass. Meanwhile...
Celeste looks off to the east. "They'll be fine," she says to herself. "Besides, we've got our own work cut out for us." She claps her hands together. "I'm going to be down on the first sub-level, northeast corner. That's where the storage units are for people who haven't picked their items up. I'll be careful, don't worry. You're welcome to come with me first or do your own exploring instead. I got visitor badges for you both earlier," she says, handing out green and white cards on lanyards to Luca and Linnet. "They're supposed to say whose guest you are, but I conveniently forgot to sign it, so no one can decide they don't like you because you're with me."
Luca takes a lanyard. They've restored their "wide-eyed prospective transfer student" outfit, complete with overlarge, cosmetic-only glasses. "I was thinking of wandering a bit, looking for familiar script."
Celeste nods. "First floor, then, take the west wing. There are a lot of exhibits there of our finest relics, and many of them have notes written by the explorers who found them. Plenty of contemporary pieces mixed in."
"Perfect," Luca says with a bit of a smirk. The slip the lanyard around their neck, and aim westward to wander.
Celeste busies herself outside for the time being, to give Luca plenty of time so they don't get Celeste's reputation linked to them.
The Nanab Foundation sports high ceilings, tall columns, and tightly-packed exhibits of marvels from all across Ducorde. They do not have an exclusive interest in Alterna, and instead divide their attention between all of the city-states. One wall showcases a series of paintings of impossible vistas, all from the same artist; a record of their long journeys to natural marvels. There are swords, pieces of armor, pottery shards, a cast of a massive chocobo track, and more. They all have notes written alongside them, each with a signature of the explorer responsible. Many of them even have brief notes written in the explorer's own hand, painstaking reproduced for that extra level of authenticity.
Linnet, in her best "visiting researcher" outfit - slightly shabby but spruced-up blouse and pencil skirt, and sensible flats - takes out a clipboard and begins making notes on the displays in an incomprehensible shorthand.
Luca strolls past exhibits, examining them like any studious sort would, while clandestinely comparing the notes to a copy of the envelope's handwriting.
(The shorthand is actually notation for embroidery stitches, but nobody besides Linnet needs to know that.)
When Luca and Linnet compare notes, they find there are no matches, but there are plenty of names to cross off the list. All but one current member of the Board is represented in this exhibit, with only Brig Grevendonck's handwriting missing from their references.
"Hm," Luca ponders. "If it is the board then we have a culprit. But we can't be sure it's not just someone on the faculty, or even another student. So that's not a great help but it's a place to start."
Sounds of chatter and productivity drift in from open hallways; there are offices throughout the Foundation, and plenty of the members and faculty are still on hand today.
Linnet looks around for an employee directory, chewing on the end of her pen.
That, at least, is easy enough to find.
"I'm going upstairs. Go find something shiny." Linnet gives Luca an affectionate pat on the shoulder and sets off with determination. She slows to a stop a few doors away from office 308, studying bulletin boards with an air of practiced nonchalance. (Of course, nobody is that nonchalant in an academic office building, so she's giving off the impression of someone waiting for an interview.) Luca starts to object, then spots a display sporting a half-circle fan of swords.
The door to Grevendonck's office opens, and out steps a moogle with a blue pompom, a flowing grey tunic, and the thickest pair of glasses Linnet has ever seen. They close the door behind them, pop every bone in their neck at once, and only then notice Linnet. "Are you looking for someone in particular, young lady?" they ask, their voice deep and gentle, like a polite landslide.
Downstairs by the swords, a voice at Luca's shoulder. "One of my favorite exhibits here. They link together, it's said, so even if you use one sword, all six activate. It must be breathtaking. If only that style of swordplay survived to this day." The voice belongs to a tall, broad-shouldered man with curly gray hair, round glasses, and a face that attempts to convey pleasant greetings it has never received. "Hello, Luca," says Osvald Temenos.
Meanwhile...
There is more clock-watching than fence-watching happening in the Nanab warehouses. Bast and Yves have met very little resistance thus far in gaining access to the buildings themselves. Now there is just the matter of finding powdered needles in well-organized haystacks.
"It's academia," Yves whispers to Bast, full of unfounded optimism, "they must have an amazing indexing system here, not like the haphazard way everything worked over in corporate research and archives. I mean, people like Linnet care about these things so much. I'm sure it's just... very high quality, and user-friendly, right?"
"I'm sure. The question is where." Bast glances into boxes on the nearby shelf as he walks past them, trying to guess what carved bones, a set of glass beads, a pile of yellow parchment covered in uneven handwriting and what looks like a perfectly smooth metal tube capped on one end are supposed to have in common.
"It's going to be in a very logical place." Yves is made of confidence as foundationless as his optimism. "Here, watch, I'll figure it out from first principles. Just give me a moment to think..."
Bast blinks at this - once, twice - and then settles down to observe the process without further comment.
Meanwhile...
"Oh, my apologies. I was supposed to be looking for Dr. Grevendonck's office, but I got distracted." Linnet looks around at the office numbers, a bit lost. "Am I in the right hallway?"
The moogle chuckles. "You are in the right hallway, but not the right office. Dr. Grevendonck is in this one," they say, gesturing to the office door they just stepped out from. "I am currently out of the office, but available, as it happens. How can I help you?"
Linnet lets out a brief squeak of surprise and hastily tidies her outfit. "Oh, goodness. I'm sorry to disturb you!" She stows her notebook under her arm and holds out a hand. "Paloma Sandoval, third-year Museum Studies student, Bresha University. Director Thornwell had mentioned an appreciation of your scholarship, and, well, yours was the only name I recognized in this building that was on the actual directory, not just the notes. My goal was simply to bring greetings from my boss, but then I started looking around at all the fascinating displays and I'm so muddled that I don't even remember what I was asking about. Am I keeping you from anything?" 'Paloma' has the air of one who gets so deep into her research that she forgets about the world outside. This is not much of a stretch for Linnet. "Were you the one focusing on the history of Cardian airship design, or was it the evolution of the coat of arms as social expression, or, no, maybe the royal cataloging scheme..." Linnet flips through her notebook. "Lunch." Grevendonck quirks their nose. "Potentially dinner at this hour. If I've waited this long I can wait a bit longer. Thornwell, you said? It has been -- oho, you'll set me talking your ear off if you keep that up!" They laugh heartily. "Cardian airship design. The recent passion is the bombers they operate! Ah, to see them in person..."
"If you wouldn't mind, I'd be happy to walk with you while you tell me all about it. Not to actually accompany you to lunch, that'd be terribly rude, but I could do with a guide out of the building." 'Paloma' gives the professor an embarrassed grin.
Grevendonck feigns offering her their arm while standing four steps away, and then begins walking slowly to allow her to set the pace. "The most fascinating measure is not how they deliver their armament, but the nature of the armament itself. You see, the 'bombs' themselves are alive! Though not the living bombs, they are a separate entity -- one native to Cardia, as it turns out! In the mountains to the east they grow, and some say they are the source of Cardia's famed hot springs! The most luxurious of which..."
The story winds its way through the northern province.
Downstairs on the first floor, Osvald Temenos smiles. "What do you think of this establishment's exhibits, hmm?" he asks Luca.
"Well," Luca ventures. "It's an impressive selection by any regard. And the way that the discoverer has their name and their observations so prominently displayed, well. Some places would hesitate to let so much glory go to the individual instead of the institution."
"What better way to ensure one's name lives on?" Temenos says. He places a hand on his chest, drawing himself up to an elegant lament. "Through her work, dear Lorithea leaves something behind for us all. I go see her discovery every day I am here in the north wing."
Luca looks around the hall. "I'm...afraid I didn't spot hers," they say, earnestly apologetic.
"Oh! Well I insist you see it. It is what she would have wanted." He guides Luca along into the north wing, where the exhibits rest on podiums, many protected by glass. A delicate sailcloth marked as nine hundred years old sits in the center of the room, Lorithea Temenos signed on the base of the podium. "I can still remember the delight in her eyes when she brought this to the Foundation," Temenos says. "Sadly, her tragic passing came before she could write her own message for future explorers to accompany this fine artifact."
Linnet's notebook is filling up with a design for an embroidery pattern based on a Cardian bomber, disguised as shorthand notes. "Your sense of adventure is absolutely catching, Doctor. I have half a mind to quit museum studies and change my major to historical weapons design."
At the end of the passage about the discovery of a sailing ship in a secret cave, and a cloth hidden away in the hold which now resides safely here, there is a sentence, written in a professionally-crafted hand and reproduced for the podium. "May the seas you now sail carry you to even greater adventures, my love."
This writing matches the envelope.
"With minors in three dozen other rambles, I am sure. Mind that you stop getting degrees at some point!" Grevendonck is having a great time. "Well, here is the exit, so I must turn you loose into the world, and also go make sure that I do not wither away to nothing. It has been a delight, Miss Sandoval."
"Dr. Grevendonck, thank you so much for entertaining a lost young scholar. Is there anything you'd like me to pass on to Director Thornwell upon my return?"
"Yes! 'Come to Thalatte, you silly bastard!' In exactly that tone, if you will."
Linnet writes it down, in beautiful handwriting, and then passes him her notebook with a grin. "I am certain she'd be tickled yellow if you'd sign it."
"Hah! This will keep you from getting in trouble for language unbecoming of a lady as well!" They sign with a flourish, then hand it back. "Though it's language well fitting an explorer," they add with a wink.
This handwriting does not match the envelope.
Linnet bids the professor farewell with a genuine chuckle, then turns to another display in genuine distracted interest.
Meanwhile... Is it a good sign when Yves starts giggling to himself? It can't be a bad sign, because the unnerving little noise began after only a few minutes of walking in a haphazard manner between heaps and piles and stacks and crates and at least one small room of what appear to be antique jugs storing... something. The viera keeps jotting down notes in a tiny notebook (though how he can even see well enough to write in this lighting is a good question) and muttering things to himself like "Of course, it's where science meets magic meets art" and "Assume that the elders give the orders but the youngers do the filing" and "Dream logic! Naturally!" and "Principia should get a chance to appreciate this" and, well, at one point he fished a vial of something sparkly and green out of his satchel, downed it in one gulp, and just kept going.
Now he stands in front of a stack of leather-bound volumes, beside a small table where a simple notebook lies beside a pen (chained to the table). "It's chronological," he explains, "in order of arrival, but of course you need cross-indexing, but the indexer's logic changes every time they graduate out of the position and tell the next incoming student in charge of the work how they did it, which means you have to go backwards from the current system, person by person, seeing how the system has changed at each point, like a series of translations, or when you stamp coins but the plates don't wear out for heads and tails at the same rate--see! Perfectly logical! With each filled book bound in a series with enough to make up the width rather than by a specific timespan, because they fill at an irregular rate based on the handwriting size, verboseness, cross-indexing system, and perceived need for margin space with each--"
Yves clears his throat, and drops his volume back down to something reasonable. "My point is, it makes a great deal of sense. It's just going to take a bit of time to work out the exact details. Probably fastest to start tracking down the possibilities one by one and send you to look at each, as I go backwards chronologically. Can't go forwards, because--well, I just explained, I don't need to belabor the point, right."
"I, uh-" Bast looks around to see if Yves' excitement has attracted any notice "-will take your word for it. Where to first?"
Yves was flipping through the index of cross-index locations during the last part of this explanation, and is already hauling out one of the big leatherbound books to page to a location. "Plates, comma, expanding, comma, pressure, with the little asterisk in red that this indexer used to indicate dangerous items. Let's start with those. Three doors down, take a left, go past the crates, shelf 17-alpha, lefthand side. Maybe we'll get it on the first try."
It takes four, though the actual exploding place settings raise many questions about early Cardian formal gatherings. But when Bast returns with an 'item on exhibit' card for "Windcatcher Powder," dated 4th-century and used to guard against wind sprites in the southern wilds, and the card's date indicates that the item was removed just yesterday, and the card is signed Temenos, it is pretty clear that they have found what they seek.
The path to the fourth took Bast past something else of interest to Yves, and so Yves is taken to see it. Everyone knows by now to make sure he sees any masks that are found. This mask is the top half of a horse skull with two jagged golden horns emerging low and to the sides from the forehead.
"--because if you want to launch meals at people during a party, why not just--" Yves is derailed from that bit of conversation by what Bast is bringing him to.
"Wasn't sure if this was somebody's theater prop or something to ward off salesmen, but I figured you'd want to see it one way or another." Bast steps back to let Yves get as close as he likes to the odd skull.
Yves leans as close to the skull-mask as he can get without touching it. "Hello," he says quietly, fishing the speaker mask (does he always have it with him? yes, probably) out of his satchel. "It looks like you've been here a while. Are you a someone instead of a something? Because if so, I'd like to know how you feel about being here, and if you'd like to be elsewhere, or with someone else, or otherwise not be in a warehouse. It's not the sort of place I'd want to live--visit, maybe, not stay--but tastes do vary." He waits for a response. As if he very much expects one ."...excellent," he says after a moment, "I'm not sure if we have plains at hand, but we can definitely get you some more open skies and movement." He works the mask carefully into his satchel. "Sorry, it's a little cramped in there, but hang out with the speaker mask and I'll get you to a better place soon." He turns back to Bast. "Should we do a dramatic exit now? ...and... and by dramatic I mean 'sneaky' and 'quiet' and 'without leaving a trace,' I guess."
Bast lingers a little, looking somewhere between incredulous and impressed, before shaking his head and getting back to business. "Right. Five shelves down, twenty paces left, door that exits between warehouses - shouldn't get spotted outside of a couple of narrow angles. Let's see if I have time to show you how to make it looks like it was never opened..."
And with that...
End session 145.