#Get yo CSI on lads!

[gallantgautier]

Umbral Inquiry

((Starter for @vonvestra ))

Sylvain,

Word has just reached me regarding Captain Devere. While this is regrettable, a replacement will have been selected by the time this letter reaches you. I have also been informed that you were not selected for the mission to Sreng, highly irregular, but I have full confidence that you will perform your duties as is expected of my heir.

Sylvain scoffs, he knows exactly what he means by that and decides now is definitely not the time to dwell on it.

Considering the circumstances, it would behove you to ascertain what happened to the Captain at your earliest convenience – another scoff, this time with a muttering of “right, you mean now, old man,” – and report back to me.

I trust I will not be disappointed,

Margrave Gullan Adán Gautier

The parchment crunches in a fist, Sylvain should know by know not to expect anything like well wishes or even something as human as worry from his father, but having it spelled out in stark black ink is still more of a blow than he’d care to admit to. Sighing, he pockets the letter, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

Captain Devere – the envoy from Sreng – had been found dead just a few days ago, and as far as he’s aware, the monastery faculty had been tight lipped as to why, citing only that dark magic had been the cause, and that they were investigating. Not fast enough to meet his father’s standards, clearly. Or, perhaps the Margrave is concerned he won’t get the full story, the fact that his trust in the church only runs so far has never been a secret.

And so, once again, another expectation that he gets no say in falls to him. That’s just terrific.

Still, expectation or no, he’d be lying to himself if he said it hadn’t been on his mind – not that anyone needs to know that. He can turn this around, he thinks as he wanders down a corridor, use it as a convenient excuse to dig deeper. For that to happen though, he’s going to need to arm himself with knowledge, which means yet another trip to the library and spending more hours hunched over dusty old tomes.

Or, he realises too late as he passes Hubert with little more than a nod of recognition, he could just enlist some help. Screeching to a halt, he turns on his heel, an arm flying out to keep his balance with how quickly he moves and a hand running through his hair to make it look nonchalant and effortless.

“Hey! Hubert!��� he calls, “You free? Got a favour to ask. My old man is getting impatient regarding that messy business with the envoy. Don’t suppose you could lend me a hand in getting him off my back, could you?”