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The Frankford Chocolate Factory acted as one of the best places for such discreet individuals as the Invictus to meet. With its permanence in the landscape for the last hundred and fifty years, a familiarity hung about it in ways not yet fully explored.
It was in the large chamber where the Alder found himself. What a peculiar title for one so out of touch with the current realities of the city, wasn't it? But survival had its merits, and the Mekhet had proved himself a survivor by being here tonight, even with those useless glasses perched upon his nose.
Simple navy blues filled out his outfit that set on the lean one. Hair uncut tonight and held back in a long, simple ribbon of an indigo color. Jasper had his phone out, scrolling through some text or another before tap-tap-tapping with those weirdly long and knobby fingers.
Normally, Rembrandt had a bit of a swagger to him, but for some reason he seems... tense tonight. He absently adjusted and readjusted the machetes on his hips, ready to draw them at a moment's notice if necessary. He does seem relieved to see a friendly face, making his way to his fellow Invictus. "Alder. It's good to see you."
Coming up for air from the phone seemed to finally break him free of whatever spell he was under. A few blinks before a dip of his head. "Ser Phillips, if I remember correctly." A pause. "Was that my memory? No matter." The phone was slid away. "It's good to see another tonight. Keeps me from getting too deep in my schemes unattended." Perhaps a joke, perhaps not.
"You do. And I understand the feeling. I have been... caught up in my thoughts lately." Rembrandt took a seat next to his fellow Invictus. "Any schemes I could help you with?"
"At the moment, adjusting to being awake after the Eclipse. Doing what I can to establish who's a mover and shaker, what the current threats are, and figure out quite where the family and the wider Invictus stands." He settles, taking a look over the other. "Before the details, though, perhaps I should turn back the offer onto you. You seem troubled. Might I ask why?"
"I was supposed to meet Commissioner Cordray last week, but she missed the appointment. And nobody's seen her since." He frowns. "She had made... several enemies. I'm concerned that one of them did something."
"... I must admit that name is not immediately sparking my memory. I assume no one has been able to locate her haven? Was she close with anyone?" asks Jasper.
"Not that I'm aware of. She doesn't seem like the type to let anyone get close. Very ambitious." He leaned back, sighing. "Truth be told, I barely knew her. I had agreed to defend her and then, when I wasn't there..." Rembrandt waves his hand idly.
"Ah. A matter of pride," says the Steward. "If she's been put into torpor, we'll need to retrieve her. If not? She was commissioner. We should retrieve any records and holdings she'd left behind. It's been some time since I've gone looking for someone's haven, but perhaps I might be able to help track it down. If you would not mind me accompanying you, Ser Knight?"
"I'd be glad for the assistance. I've been learning, but... I'm not exactly a detective. My skills tend towards the physical." He pats his machetes.
"I can certainly see you are quite naturally attuned to such things," offers Jasper with a once over of the knight. "Then I'll take it on myself to try to find her holdings." A pause. "Do you know even the short list of her enemies?"
"Specifically? I'm not sure. Cory, perhaps. Cordray seemed wary of her, though I doubt it was her. She doesn't seem... subtle enough." He shrugs. "I suspect we'd have already heard if she had done it."
There's a nod there before Jasper takes off his glasses to clean. "At least one topic we'll have to cover then. It might be better to view the home life without going into it."
There's the sound of someone else entering the factory and all but dancing his way down to the lounge. When he becomes visible, perhaps it's clear why: he has his earbuds in, and is bopping like an iPod commercial from the early 2000s. The man is wiry, with dark hair in a ponytail under a bowler hat and a dark suit, and round golden-framed glasses, and he is just fucking grooving to whatever he's listening to.
Rembrandt seems about to say something, but is interrupted by the sound of someone's approach. He sighs, seeming to realize who it is even before he arrives, then glances at Jasper. "Have you met Player Moynihan?"
Jasper lifts the (useless) glasses to peer through before nodding. "Ah, yes. I'm passingly familiar. You were the one who taught me that song - Smooth Operator, yes? By Sade. And how best to dance to it."
Harold doesn't show up at Elysium often, except for the Bellevue Hotel, but it doesn't do to let everyone forget who you are, so it's important to make an appearance once in a while. That he happens to be arriving tonight when the only people around are in his own covenant is unfortunate.
He walks into the lounge area of the Elysium with head held high, carrying all the arrogance that the most powerful figure in the local Invictus should bear, and heads directly toward the sounds of voices with quick, powerful strides.
"Yeah, that's me. You still got the moves, or did you nap them away?" He pulls out his iPod from the early 2000s and pauses it, tucking the earbuds away. "Do I gotta spin you around the dance floor a few times to remind you?"
That has the tone of a threat under the offer, laced with a good deal of tease. But as the sound of someone else entering hits the air, he pauses, looking up, and then...stills.
Rembrandt starts to smile, then stiffens as the head of their family enters the room. He stands up awkwardly. "Sir."
From the look of it, the Steward (because now Jasper's not the only Alder) was about to lay down some casual comment back at Henry, but Harold came into the picture. The already proper-looking man rose more in his seat before gesturing in invitation to those not seated while more fluidly rising as well. "Alder Harold. It's nice to see you out and about. Please, won't you join us?" It has just a touch of familiarity to go with the otherwise stiff formality.
"Good evening, Steward," Harold says in a pleasant tone. "Knight, Player," he adds to the other two, tone remaining the same, but his eyes linger on Henry for a moment before he goes on. "I was hoping to find Keeper Chevrette here tonight, but of course, she's never around when she's actually needed, is she?" He sighs, unbuttons the button on his suit, and moves to a chair to sit down. "Running into some of the other honored members of the First Estate will be good enough, as an alternative. Please," he gestures. "What were you discussing when I came in? No need to let me interrupt."
"Uh, I'd just walked in, so I wasn't quite caught up on the actual conversation. Jus' greeting Steward Wright, as I wasn't aware he was up again." Henry also takes a seat, looking a little like the student who hasn't done his homework.
Rembrandt, ever the stickler for formality, sat down after Harold has taken his seat. "We were discussing Commissioner Cordray. Nobody has seen her for the past week."
"The dapper Knight had just given me a short idea of her enemies, but the implication is that there were quite a few." Jasper settled back into his seat. "My immediate thought was to find her haven and make certain she hadn't fallen unprepared into Eclipse. Failing that, securing her previous home would allow us to retake records of financial importance to the First Estate and begin a true investigation as to where she might be."
Harold taps a finger against the arm of his chair for a few seconds as he considers Rembrandt's words. "I assume that if this is enough to rise to the level of a Knight's concern, that someone has actually looked for her?" He says he assumes it, and since he simply goes on, it's probably true. "I see." He looks at Jasper. "You're right, and I commend you for your thinking. Any records she was maintaining, and the accounts associated, need to be secured, while we determine what might have happened to her. Lacking another Commissioner, are you up to the task for the interim?"
For a fraction of a second his eyes settle on Henry before he he looks back at Rembrandt. "You're investigating her disappearance, Knight? It would seem to fall most under your purview."
Henry purses his lips slightly, and wilts back into his chair, watching Harold and not interrupting when 'adults are speaking'.
"I am. I have only just begun to investigate, but the Steward was just offering me his assistance." He nodded to Jasper.
"While not my formal training, I believe I have access to a source to learn the necessarily skills best enough until we secure another," acquiesces Jasper with a dip of his head. "I imagine working together will only make the process go faster so I offered Knight Rembrandt." Informal Name Dropping. Le gasp.
"Good. You mentioned enemies?" Harold's expression tightens. "The woman hadn't even been here long. I wouldn't have thought it would be long enough to have done much worth making enemies over. That's hardly an area where I'd usually recommend putting in 110%." He lifts one shoulder and shrugs the matter away. "If you need any resources that I can provide in solving this matter, just reach out to my assistant. I'll leave it in your capable hands."
Not one for much in the way of micromanaging, he assumes nothing else needs to be said and moves on. "What else of interest has been going on? I heard about these Nereid creatures showing up in town, and some fool calling himself Rihat crashing a car into Bala Cynwyd? That place is one disaster after another without its own Keeper."
Henry finally glances up at Remy. "You, uh, might wanna ask the other covenants about Anna-Marie's enemies, too. I'm sure they got some idea of who she mighta managed to get in hot water with."
And then he frowns. "Them Nereid things are pretty wild. I don't think they've been making themselves known around here so much lately. You know, they seemed to come out of the river, but there's been no word on them showing back up there for a while. I was at the house the last time Keeper Powers showed up there, actually."
Rembrandt nods at Henry, appreciating the advice. "The Nereids are apparently some sort of... infection. If they cut you, you can become one of them. A Crone used their sorcery to learn more, and almost fell to them just from that, so I don't know how much use that will be in the future."
"... Strange. And disconcerting." Jasper hardly has a moment to consider that before positing, "It is too bad about Bala Cynwyd. An Invictus Keeper presence might be good there. Keep people calm, hold a few rules, and provide entertainment. It seems a job with a simple enough way to slide into it, should the Keeper not be viewed as a threat to political power by others, or even better, ties and connections to other covenants to seem as neutral as possible." Perhaps just oh-so-casually turning the attention towards the Player without even so much as directly looking at them or namedropping.
"Through the sorcery?" Harold asks, surprised by this information. "That's interesting, and probably something I should pass on to the Sanctified, in case any of them get similar ideas. Thank you for letting me know." He turns his gaze on Jasper in a way that strongly suggests he's about to view the Steward as having volunteered himself for that position, but he follows the man's gaze to Henry and gives the Player a smile. "Player Moynihan," he says. "You were there? That's right, I did hear about that. You were part of how the city learned about the things being around in the first place. Well done." It doesn't actually seem to be sarcastic, but he seems a little surprised. "Would you happen to have any interest in pursuing the Keeper position?"
"Uh. I could ask about it, I suppose. If you feel that's right." He nods uncertainly. "Would that be the sorta thing I'd take to the Sakima, to offer, or what?"
Rembrandt simply... listens. He seems to be mildly amused by Henry's uncertainty, but proud of him nonetheless.
Having pushed the other under the bus into the limelight, this Mekhet casually inspects his nails.
"You sound so sure of your desires, Player," Harold says dryly. "The sort of decisive bias toward action I've come to expect. If you'd like to pursue it, then reach out to the Sakima to let her know."
Not one to linger on topics he moves on again. "This has been a lot of irritating topics, which is pretty much the way of things in this city of late. Does anyone have anything to talk about that wouldn't make my blood pressure rise if I had it?"
He flinches when scolded, and looks down at the table, falling silent himself now.
"This... Rihat doesn't seem to like the Sakima. Could be an opportunity."
A glance between the knight and Big Harry. "But what sort, I wonder? Are they strong or more a nuisance?"
"Rihat," Harold says with a sneer. "This wouldn't be the first time I've heard of someone calling themselves by that name. When I lived in London, centuries ago, someone else made that claim. He died under a Crusader's sword, after a few weeks of rampaging through the city flouting every Tradition he could."
"Well, this one's been around a couple weeks. Should we be looking for every Tradition to be broken here already?" He sounds uncertain.
Rembrandt glances at Henry quickly, then looks back at Harold. "Then perhaps... We should find this one and put him down. If he's anything like the one in London."
"Evidence gathered makes one much better prepared to defend one's actions. A bit of vitae, and we could know much more," notes the Mnemosyne.
He glances to Rembrandt, then makes a stabbing motion. "Just a little... like a dipstick, but sharper."
"There's been nothing else since the incident at Bala Cynwyd?" asks Harold, followed by a pensive moment. "I've heard of a couple of instances of people claiming to be Rihat, over the years. The case in London, which I mentioned, but also other instances around Europe where they proved to be imposters, or simply left town again after a while." He looks at Rembrandt. "I'm disinclined to act without knowledge. As the Steward says, understanding what his objective is could be key. Maybe we can make use of it, or maybe it's a risk to us. At present we don't know."
"Apparently this one is, uh, looking for Adelgrief's library? That's what the rumor is, at least." He takes off his hat, spinning it on the table.
"I haven't heard of anything since his arrival, no."
"So we have a desire and a moniker. If either of you is particularly connected through the gossip chain about, we might be able to find more," suggests The Steward et Interregnum Commissioner.
That makes Harold go still, staring at Henry. "That right there is some prime information, my good man," he says in a ways that is actually not sarcastic. Looks at each of the other three in turn he says, "do not let him find it, if there's anything that you can do to prevent it. We've been looking for where his man hid those tomes since the night of the Sakima's coup. You must not let it fall into either Rihat's hands or hers. That library belongs to the Invictus."
"Sometimes, I hear things." He shrugs, spinning his hat again. "Do we know where Adelgrief's haven used to be?"
Rembrandt simply nods in agreement. He doesn't know a lot about Adelgrief, but if it's Invictus property then he'll do what he can.
Jasper shakes his head. "Not information I was ever privy to, no."
"... We could perhaps see if any in the dynasty knew of its location, after we've secured the financial documents of the Commissioner?"
"I do," Harold confirms for Henry. "But what I understand is that the night that the coup happened, one of his retainers relocated the library and then used explosives to ensure that there wasn't enough of him left for the Sakima to reanimate in order to question him. Nobody has been able to find it since." He looks at Jasper. "What I've been told since I woke up is that the search for it was a bit of the local sport for a decade or so after the change in power, but I think those who engaged in that sport, at least among the Invictus, are all either gone from the city or sleeping."
"It might be time to revive the sport, among ourselves." He looks thoughtful, putting his hat back on his head.
"Seems a worthwhile venture, yes." Rembrandt readjusts his machetes slightly. "Seems like it would be... very useful."
Another nod from the Steward. "It seems so."
"At the very least, be sure that neither of them finds the thing." Harold stands up. "Thank you, gentlemen. I didn't plan to be here for long and have other things to attend to, so I'm sure you'll excuse me, but do have a good evening."
"You, uh, you too." He nods.
"It was good to see you. Have a pleasant night."
"It was good to see you, Alder Harold. I'm certain we'll have much more to discuss at a future meeting," bids Jasper with a nod.
Henry watches as Harold makes his way out, remaining tense until he's certain he's gone. "Well. Now we got some work to do, huh?"
Harold does depart in short order. Once the man puts his mind to something, he doesn't mess around.
"Seems we do." Rembrandt looked after the departing family head for a moment, then turned to his companions. "I'm going to look into Commissioner Cordray first. Perhaps find out where she was seen last."
"I'll help as best I'm able. See if I can maybe track down some bills of hers to retrace her somewhat." Jasper considers. "Making certain that our finances aren't lost is critical so I agree. Keeping it on here first."
"Uh, about that--I'm not sure how much she was tied into our financials. She was a very recent arrival, the Commissioner was, and I'm not sure Alder Wright had even met her, before she went missing. She threw money around like it meant nothing, but I'm pretty sure it was her own to begin with."
"Still. With how much money she was throwing around, that would be very useful for us. Seemed like she had deep pockets."
Without a smile, with hardly a blink, Jasper pulls out his phone. "She's missing. If she's dead, those funds can be reallocated to help better our position and appropriate causes in the city. If she's not, then we can manage to hold onto her assets while she's in torpor or otherwise indisposed so that when she comes free, she's not a pauper."
"Mm." He glances around uncertainly and stands. "I should...probably go. Probably."
Rembrandt nods to Henry. "Let me know if you need any help. With anything."
"It was pleasant to see you again." He gestures with his phone. "I'd take your number, Player. Good luck with your potential interview as Keeper."
He recites his number for Jasper. "Let me know if you want to learn the latest dances--or some gossip."
"Have a nice night, Henry." A small smile to him, then Rembrandt turned back to Jasper. "I should probably take my leave as well. Get started on the investigation."
"Both," assures Jasper as he adds it into his phone. "And your number as well?" gest Jasper to coordinate as well. "Both of you handsome men enjoy your evenings."
When Remy calls him just 'Henry', there's a long, thoughtful pause, and then he heads out without another word.
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