(122-03-13) Maester Plan
Maester Plan
Summary: Leandro speaks with Marsei and Camillo about what he plans to do about some rival maesters.
Date: 13/03/122
Related: http://gobmush.wikidot.com/plot:citadel-and-sept
Players:
Leandro..Marsei..Camillo..

Leandro's got information. He's dressed in his swish maester's robes, and has likely arranged a meeting with Marsei, at her earliest convenience, to tell her what he's discovered.

Lady Marsei meets Leandro in the grand receiving hall, an immediately welcoming smile upon her face, as if this is nothing but a pleasant social visit instead of what is most likely a meeting to discuss the strange business of maesters and mysteries. She pauses near him, her rosy-hued gown catching up to her a second later. "Maester Leandro, it is lovely to see you. Are you well? Shall we stroll to the library?"

Camillo's presence perhaps suggests that this is not a pure social call. He keeps his peace, only nodding at the Maester as they draw near.

"As you wish," Leandro says, his smile mirroring Marsei's, perfectly socially acceptable. He steps in to walk alongside her. "I am. And are you well?"

"I am," Marsei replies in a cheery tone, starting to move through the hall. She doesn't wait until they reach their destination to bring up the point of the meeting, however, though she does wait for a small gathering of ladies to pass before she asks, "Have you news?"

Camillo folds his hands and remains close, yet a pace or two behind the others.

"Of a sort," Leandro says, vaguely. He will wait until they reach their destination before revealing more.

The vague reply only serves to raise Marsei's curiosity; her inquisitive gaze brightens on Leandro before she looks ahead in polite silence, bustling along to the library. While the library itself isn't unused, several of the back areas are, allowing for privacy and quiet in which to speak.

Camillo ducks into the room last and shuts the doors behind the other two, going so far as to turn the key in the lock.

Leandro's well acquainted with the library, since he's been working at the Hightower. He does glance at Camillo as the door's locked to ensure their privacy, after ensuring no one's listening in, he finds a chair to settle down upon. "You wished to know what the Maesters are up to?"

Marsei smiles encouragingly as she takes a seat across from Leandro, a small games table between the chairs. Her brows raise, inquisitive, as she too settles in. "Have you learned more of their motives, then?"

Camillo steps just a few paces away from the doors, but doesn't insinuate himself directly into the conversation at this point.

"You have beneath the Hightower a treasure the likes has never been seen before," Leandro says. "There is such a wealth of information there, such knowledge, such wonders. A Maester could spend his entire's lifework there, his name would go down in history, his teachings read by many, many others. Does it need to be more complex than that? Politics also. The Archmaesters are old, they have legacies to leave, there's many jostling to step into their place. And here is a unique opportunity. You've three rival groups jostling to be the first to get their hands on what could make them. Knowledge is power, and all that."

As Marsei listens keenly, her mere inquisitive interest is balanced by a more serious expression. "Are they aware of the… " she ponders briefly, "full nature of the knowledge the Hightower holds? Do they know of the flute?"

"I have told them nothing," Leandro says. "They know there's something there, they're all unaware of the true nature of it though. They should have come to your House the moment they realised there was something there to discover. If they'd just approached your brother with their research instead of sneaking about. They're looking to serve themselves first and foremost. I wouldn't trust any of them to not just take what they wished for themselves. And I would certainly not trust any of them with the security risks that lie down there."

Marsei nods, slow and accepting of each bit of information Leandro passes along. As she's about to comment on such, she tips her head to the side and looks upon this maester, her gaze gentle— but precise. "What of you, Maester Leandro?" she wonders, politely posed, "Do you undertake these studies without want of a legacy?"

Camillo keeps his chin somewhat lowered while the conversation goes on, but he is surely listening with interest.

Leandro considers this, unable to help smiling at the idea. "Of course not. But our interests coincide, at least. I want to learn, yes, I want to uncover all the secrets I can there. It's fascinating. All that knowledge, locked away. Those devices, even the entrance, the mechanics of it, the complexity of the mechanism, and the beauty of it. But, to be able to access any of that, it's a privilege, and one that can only be granted by your house. Which means I play by your rules, and I report my findings to your House. If I am told to keep something secret then I do so. I need not write it. I want to repair the damage, I want to restore it to what it once was so it can serve your family another thousand years. It's not my legacy, it's yours."

The answer pleases the lady, who smiles benevolently, warm enough to encompass all the gratitude of House Hightower. "I suspect you shall be part of ours," she replies. She looks away to think amount — seeking out Camillo and gauging him briefly — before looking back to the maester. "You mentioned three groups. Do you have names to separate them by?" She appears a touch troubled by asking. "The Hightower is well-protected; and I cannot imagine what more they can do … but if there is anyone we should take particular note of, I should like to inform my brothers."

Camillo meets Marsei's gaze, proving that he is indeed paying attention. "If they will not be obedient, it will be difficult to know what to do."

"If you want to divide them up, vaguely then Linguistics, History, Politics," Leandro says. "There is Maester Praeton, who specialises in linguistics." Leandro says. "I know he's been snooping around, getting into fights. The second faction is lead by the Archmaester of politics, Archmaester Blaeke, and his protege, Maester Lorrelys. And the third is the Archmaester for history, Kubos." He removes a sheet of paper from the sheathe he's carrying and places it down, there's some brief sketches of Maesters in question. Praeton's a valeman. Lorrelys likely has blood of the dragon, judging from the violet of his eyes. "What we do is we have Lorrelys appointed elsewhere. I am looking into a method of removing Praeton from the picture."

Most of the names — Praeton, Lorrelys — spark recollection. Marsei leans ahead slightly to examine their likenesses. "Remove him?" she queries. "But cannot be appointed elsewhere, as an archmaester, can he?"

Camillo keeps quiet. It wouldn't do for a servant to weigh in on such 'removals'

"Lorrelys is simply a Maester," Leandro says. "Although he is ArchMaester Blaeke's right hand man. He's a despicable man with questionable ethics and he has been utterly relentless in trying to gain what information he can from me about the Hightower. There is nothing he wouldn't stoop to doing to further his own ends. He would have most certainly taken that flute as his own and then used it as leverage to further his own political ambitions. I'd suggest giving him exactly what he thinks he wants. He's ridiculously proud of his heritage, claiming he's got Targaryen blood. What better place for him to be than amongst his own kind." There's a spark in Leandro's eyes, something more he wants to say, but he's waiting.

"Yes, of course. Amongst his own? Move him to Dragonstone, or even to King's Landing?" Marsei thoughtfully asks for clarity, as if it as simple as moving pieces on a board on one of the game tables they sit at now. "…and of Praeton?" She's noticed that spark in Leandro's eye and focuses upon it, wondering; waiting, in turn.

"Not King's Landing," Leandro says. "King's Landing is a place where he would wield too much power. I was thinking perhaps Dragonstone if must be, but better yet one of the other miserable rocks in that area. An appointment dressed up as a reward, the final culmination of all his hard work only for him to find himself on a miserable rock, in a place where he's no longer special because of his blood, but instead made ordinary by it. You are friends with Princess Visenya though, perhaps she would have a better suggestion, and be able to assist in the matter? Lorrelys is a clever man, he's more devious than Praeton and he and Archmaester Blaeke have far more resources at his disposal."

Leandro's description of the potential future of Lorrelys draws a faint frown across Marsei's face, ever-so-slightly before the deed is even done, showing empathy to a maester who has not exactly been kind to her or her house. But she nods, smiles, and doesn't disagree. "You are blessed with a tactical mind, Maester Leandro," she observes; her sweet voice transforms it easy into a compliment. "I am certain Princess Visenya would be happy to assist.

"Will you arrange a meeting with her?" Leandro asks. "With Maester Praeton I've yet to discover any truly despicable behaviour on his behalf. Oh certainly he's been involved in fights, he's been sneaking around, he makes threats and he's not at all liked. I'm having his academic work checked over to see if there's anything there that can be used against him, or not. He does make the occassional, discrete visit the Bawdy Bard, but that on its own is likely not enough to raise eyebrows."

It raises Marsei's eyebrows. "Oh, my. Well," she says quietly under her breath, considering. "Perhaps there is another way, were he spoken to directly," she suggests optimistically, though she does not sound utterly solid in the thought; she's hopeful, not blind.

"With enough time I'll find something," Leandro says. "Or speak directly to Praesprys. I'd rather not involve Praeprys though, unless need be. He has something of a blind spot regarding Praeton."

"I am glad for your insight," Marsei commends. "How fortunate we are to have you looking out! It is some progress. I will of course arrange a meeting with Princess Visenya; would you like to speak to her, yourself?"

"Whatever you see as wisest," Leandro says. "I would ask a thing of you. I have a friend who is an expert on musical instruments, well that hardly sums it up. He lives and breathes music and it is very much his greatest passion in life. We have actually been researching ancient Valyrian music, together, and recreating the music that once was. The existing records are almost all transcribed by men who had no understanding of poetry or music, but he's been trying to breathe life and song back into them. I know that this is an immense thing to ask, and normally I would not seek to do so. Or I would couch it in terms of his knowledge and what it could bring to your House, instead of what the opportunity would mean to him. Would there be a chance for him to have a glimpse of the valyrian artifact we discovered? He may actually be able to shed new light upon it, and I trust his discretion. But I do understand that it is in a very delicate political position."

The way in which Leandro goes about asking and describing his friend's love of music easily fascinates Marsei; she smiles at the thought. However, her smile turns apologetic. "I would say yes in a heartbeat, were it not so delicate," she agrees, but her tone is encouraging as she goes on, "But it would be lovely to have it seen by an expert in music, I think. What is this man's name? I will see what I can do."

"Madrighal Sand," Leandro says. "He can be found at the Acacia Hall. Thank you for even considering it. I know it would mean the world to him."

The tiniest measure of suprise or intrigue lifts Marsei's face, chased off a second later by her bright smile. "The least I can do," she offers. Her hands perch lightly upon the edge of the table, preparing to push up and depart. "Thank you for your efforts, Maester."

"Thank you," Leandro says.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License