In her Rule

On arrival back in Mulmaster, Niriscia and Pete made right for the temple that had recently fallen under High Imperceptor Nave's control.

Taking a look as they approached the large imposing structure, Niriscia took her time admiring the architecture, seeing it in a different light now that it was under her control. Gifting Pete with a sideways glance she nods as she approaches the threshold, shoving open the heavy teak and iron door.

Reaching her quarters, she sends for the High Acolyte and offers Peter a seat and a drink. Not going to any great lengths to prepare the drink, she allows Pete to take what he wants. Her gaze bolted to the door of the room as the High Acolyte enters, his head lowered as he is humbled in the presense of the new High Imperceptor and the Grand Inquisitor.

"Darkoon's possessions, bring them too along with the cataloging I asked for"

The Acolyte hid well his smug smile as he pulled the yellow paper from his sleeve, thinking the altered manuscript would escape her notice. As he moved to hand the paper to Niriscia, Pete swooped in, his whisky glass at his lips, and snatches the manuscript from him, perusing it as he takes a plush seat behind where Niriscia would sit, should she choose.

Looking over the paper and to Niriscia as she went through the things.

"Is this all of it" Niriscia asks, casually admiring a small, simple iron cloak clasp she found on the desk.

Pete watched the acolyte as she fumbled momentarily with the question.

"Everything that is on the list is there High Imperceptor."

Pete cut the acolyte off before he could waste anymore of their time.

"That is not what Retributer Nave asked you, is that all of Darkoon's possessions he had in the temple?"

The acolyte began to fidget a little, his sweaty hands wringing at one another as his tiny little ferret eyes darted between Niriscia and Pete. "There are a few little things that Darkoon's under study might have taken with him when he left the temple."

Dropping the clasp to the floor, Niriscia spun on her heels facing the frightened fragile old bastard as she leveled him with a look that would blow a hole through the chest of an Iron Golem.

"When did this Cleric leave, and where did he go?" Approaching the old man at a scarily hastened pace she sought to press this information from him as quickly as possible leaving him no way out.

"He-he-he... He left the afternoon you took Darkoon to Zhentil Keep, M-m-mistress."

Grabbing him by the scruff of his sweaty neck, Niriscia pulled him uncomfortably close to her.

" and his name?"

Stuttering and trembling the old man gave his answer.

"Calim Lyons"

With that Niriscia was out the door.

Before leaving the temple for the swamplands, Pete asked Imperceptor Nave for allowance to go through the absent Lyons' room and seize his belongings. Whatever is left he takes with him to the swamp. He instructs the guards that under no circumstances is Lyons, should he show his face again, to be allowed any semblance of freedom. Also, Inquisitor Pete is to be notified immediately upon his sighting by any member of the Church via sending.

In a darkened room, the furthest recess of the High Imperceptor's chambers, Pete sat and twirled a discarded bit of leather strapping, presumably from Lyon's gauche breech cloth, with his gloved fingers. Retributor Nave gave order after order to the guardsmen, to the chamberlains, to the acolytes and higher ranking clergy on every iota of minutia ranging from the temple's day to day operations, to the breadth of its bond with the Zhentarim, to its subordinate interactions with the church office of Fzoul Chembryl, and most importantly regarding the heresy of Szuldan Darkoon. While she did all this, Pete stewed and mulled over the missing clerics, specifically the prominent absence of Calim Lyons.

Calim ran...that was the who as well as the what. Ran with an assorted few possessions of Darkoon's in tow. To where was a matter of minor contrivance--a few words and the answer would be known to Pete. How was of minor importance, be it spell or sail, foot or hoof, he was gone and would take some work to retrieve or punish. But why...why was intriguing.

Assassinations, as they were, held a commonplace position within the ranks of Bane's clergy. All were able to hold their offices for extended periods of time and, with rare exception, new positions opened only with extreme disgrace or death. Death never occurred as a matter of life lived through to the ravaged end--not among the clergy of the Tyrant. Death was on schedule and as a brutal means to power grabbing ends. As startling as Darkoon's capture and death were, it had happened before. There was, as with everything else within the faith, a precedent worth following: the higher ups die, their aggressors are looked upon for a dogmatically defensible reason for the assault by superiors, and their inferiors accept the change and adapt. After all, everyone's a tyrant here and dogma doesn't change.

So, why then would this man flee? Was it to protect something he held in value? His life, his soul, great wealth? Had he been charged via spell or implicit force to do this? For what reason? Why would Darkoon want this, or rather, why would Lyons carry this out if Darkoon is now dead? Was it mere fear, however warranted, that Niriscia would slay all those close to Darkoon?

Pete paused and glanced up to Niriscia, her orders flying fast and furious from her mouth as if she was training on a speed bag in the temple's gymnasium. She'd wanted just that, and Pete feared she would. He'd cautioned her against it. Able bureaucrats were difficult to come by on short notice and, with their plans to return to the swamp, the church must lie in able hands here lest the Cyricist element regain ground lost through hard pressing in the last year. Judging by how her arsehole immediately clenched in time with her jaw and brow, he thought he'd hit the mark.

Pete smiled and stood, tossing the strap and catching it on his way up before turning and facing the wall behind him on his knees. He wove the spell that would open communications with Lyons and spoke:

"Lyons, make no mistake: you are in severe jeopardy. However, leniency can be awarded should you make my job easier. Sincerely yours, Grand Inquisitor Newport."