[ P ] i plead the fifth

Set before Arthur heads to the Highlands!

Arthur looked around his office. It was a mess. A frown tugged at his lips as he sighed helplessly. In one week he would be embarking on his journey to the Highlands to engage in his fieldwork-- and his attempts at packing and organizing had somehow lead to things being much less organized and only about 18% packed. He had always been somewhat scattered, but it had gotten a little better over the years... or so he'd thought. Wouldn't guess it, looking at the chaos.. He supposed it could be his nerves as well. He was awarded a research grant to visit the Highlands for the summer, to located and identify rare plants, and confirm any potential useful properties along with any potential counterpart plants that grew in the Mainlands. This is what he was packing for. And it wasn't the reason he was ruffled. He was also going to be researching the Fae Fog. Had been researching it, but had been finding it quite restrictive in the heart of Rionna, where the topic was heavily taboo again. It felt like they were at square one from before the war-- or maybe even worse, Square Zero. If anything, anything to do with the fae and Highlandic traditions were even more despised. It was harder and harder for him to try and find resources, find those who had been affected-- not without being noticed. So off he was going! As soon as he could pack everything up-- now where was that -- Knock, knock, knock. Three heavy pounds on his heavy wooden door. He froze and stared at it. He wasn't sure why he felt a surge of unease -- perhaps it was because he wasn't expecting anybody. Maybe it was because he secretly felt his funding would be withdrawn before he even got to go. Maybe it was because the knocks were so heavy, and he'd never heard the likes of such from his students or fellow professors. Regardless, he straightened up and attempted to tidy up some piles while calling, “Come in,” over his shoulder.

ART ➤sealoon

The witch hunts, as a rule, were beneath Nicharion’s notice. For all the curses hissed by the crones who were the usual convicts, nothing substantial ever came of them. And as much as he might dislike magic and those who claim to be involved with it, in work pragmatism took precedence over personal taste, leading to his focus on crimes that have actual damages associated with them. But when word reached his ears of a studious-looking fellow inquiring after the fae, sometimes in dubious places, well... that sort of irregularity was worth investigating. Luckily, the colonel had the luxury of adjusting his agenda freely... beyond that which was demanded of him whether he wanted or not, at the very least. And while the College wasn’t exactly a short walk away, it wasn’t on the other end of the country either - a burden his schedule could endure.

Walking the bustling streets of Rionna was a welcome reprieve from the barracks’ rigid atmosphere, so much so that the red brute was starting to consider staying overnight. But business comes first, and so his paws turned towards the College.

Nicharion had been to the old College only once, for a battle that took place there during the war. The blood-soaked ground painted a different picture, but he could easily imagine the quiet, contemplative forest air that must have been a trademark in its better days. This College was different; a pocket carved out of the busy capital with surgical precision. Picturesque... yet lacking the natural sense of belonging occurring between unrefined edges. Much of Rionnach was like this now, carefully assembled from broken pieces and replacement parts.

Then again, his memory went further back than any wolf’s should, under normal circumstances. Perhaps future generations will be unable to tell the difference.

He entered the closest building, looking around only long enough to locate the receptionist before he approach them with firm and heavy steps. “Good day. I’m looking for a man... short tail, lithe, grey fur, yellow ey-” He paused when he saw the growing concern on the receptionist’s face. Unsurprisingly, he needed not to introduce himself as the barracks’ smell clung heavily to his pelt.. but the last thing he needed was the entire building gossiping about a professor being in trouble with the law. His stern expression softened as he hurried to clarify. “Oh, no, nothing like that! I’m not here to arrest him. There’s this case I’m working on, I’ve been told his expertise would be most helpful. But, uh.. his name eludes me..?” The receptionist, still taken aback but slowly recovering, blurted out ”Professor Locke?” to which Nicharion responded with a smile and his ears perking up. “That’s it! Where might I find him?” At this point, the directions were offered freely, and he nodded along now and then. “Splendid. Thank you for your time.” His smile dropped as soon as he turned away, heading straight for his quarry.

The answer to his knocking came after a slight delay, but it wasn’t unusual enough to warrant reading into it. He pushed the door open and walked inside, unhurriedly roaming the office with his eyes instead of addressing the professor immediately. The room was in quite the disarray; had it been found abandoned in this state, investigators would likely contemplate whether or not a struggle had occurred. Curious... Nicharion couldn’t say if the professor was packing with intent to never return or not, but either way it would seem not delaying this meeting had been the right call. “Colonel Valentine, Imperial Army.” The introduction was curt and gruff, quite unlike the tone he had used with the receptionist. He shut the door behind him with a push from his hind leg with a noticeable amount of force, though not quite slamming it. “This is a routine inspection. I’ll require a moment of your time, Professor...?” He turned his head just enough to stare the other male down with one eye, clearly expecting a prompt introduction. No need to have him believe he was a specific target, and not one of many stops on a long list, just yet. At the same time, a colonel personally performing such a mundane task was nothing short of unusual, and Nicharion was hoping an educated mind would pick up on that. The subliminal sense of unease it would create would be most delectable.

manip + code: clae

Set before Arthur heads to the Highlands!

Whatever Arthur was expecting – whoever he was expecting – to open the door and walk over the threshold, it was not a giant crimson soldier. Arthur couldn’t even hide his alarm as the man stepped through the doorway and took in his surroundings. The Professor’s eyes darted around the room, half out of self-consciousness, half out of panic that he had left something important and something that shouldn’t exist laying around the room. He was typically quite careful, but with packing things had been out of the ordinary and disorganized; with the presence of the Imperial Army, he was suddenly unsure of just how careful he had actually been. Was there anything dangerous lying around? Even if there was, it’s not like he could dive for it and stuff it into his mouth to hide it. Eyes scrapped the messy floor for a moment longer before snapping back to the soldier, the scent of the barracks and Royalism strong on his coat. With his heart loud in his ears, Arthur opened his mouth to proffer a greeting, but then the hulking man spoke. “Colonel Valentine, Imperial Army.” he introduced with no semblance of warmth to put the Professor at ease. In fact, it did just the opposite. This wasn’t a soldier; why was a Colonel here? “How can I help you, Colonel Valentine?” Arthur asked somewhat stiffly, but attempting to smile to warm the Colonel’s heavy atmosphere. “This is a routine inspection. I’ll require a moment of your time, Professor…?” A poppy-red eye stared at him over his shoulder as if this were a casual thing, and yet there was something unspoken there. They both knew this wasn’t a casual thing– a ‘routine inspection’ sounded like busywork more suited for a cadet. Not a high-ranking officer. The man fidgeted on his small paws. “Ah, Locke. Professor Locke,” Arthur supplemented, while his mind was scrambling for purchase. He needed to calm down, and he needed a plan. There was no reason for him to think this was anything other than what the Colonel said– after all, he didn’t even know his name. Surely if this were anything related to Arthur’s alternate research, they’d know just who he was… and probably come with cuffs instead of questions. Probably. “I am happy to help in any way I can. I had not heard of routine inspections being performed.. Is this a new statute?” Arthur asked, though he wasn’t sure if it even mattered. Now that the College was in Rionna, the government was much closer and.. More involved. He imagined they could actually do anything they wanted, if they felt it was justified. Arthur swallowed; he needed to try and get this man to leave. He didn’t need a Colonel snooping around in his office. Like he’d thought before – he was pretty sure there was nothing incriminating in here.. But he wasn’t positive. “Can I offer you some tea, Colonel Valentine?” he asked, moving around behind his desk where a tea set resided. Perhaps they could chat over tea and be done with it. “Valentine – that’s an apt name for you,” he commented after a moment. It was apt, for his red eyes and coat, and it was also ironic… that a saint of love be involved in the army.

ART ➤sealoon

The red brute’s amusement, much like the professor’s nerves, quickly grew to the point that only steely discipline could contain it within. Unfortunately for the scholar, only one of them had such conditioning. Besides being a veritable treat, the other male’s reaction was as close to a confirmation of the reports that brought him here as he might need... and yet, every interaction is a dance, a give and take. The strong first impression had its value, but staying this course would only have the professor clam up at best, or panic to the point of doing something regrettably stupid. “Arthur, hmm... like the king of legends?” he inquired, allowing a note of curiosity to disarm the gravelliness of his voice. It was a calculated offering of a shred of common ground, showing that he wasn’t merely an army thug, that he knew his way around books. Someone desperate for a smooth resolution to this encounter would surely take up such opportunity.

Nicharion moved along the wall of the office that was furthest away from Arthur, slow and measured steps matching contrasting the disinterest in his eyes as they slid over the furniture. He let the smaller wolf’s question hang in the air for a moment, silently appreciating how the success of his excuse wasn’t being handed on a silver platter without any challenge. “To this extent, yes.” he decided, finally. “There are... concerns. Our new neighbors, you see... Seeking the College’s knowledge would be a tempting cover story for foreign agents trying to blend in, wouldn’t you agree?” Perhaps such overt checks could minimize this appeal. It would be prudent, seeing as the College has proven itself to be fertile ground for instigators in the past. The Voxi had been a thorn in the army’s side during the war against Jacob’s rebels, and different countries could capitalize on that again by sowing a little unrest... something to mull over after this is done.

When tea was offered, the colonel turned to face Arthur fully, narrowing his eyes with suspicion that seemed reflexive. For someone of his position not to be trusting was merely playing the part, but the concern was real - education and knowledge of various plants, including poisonous ones, often go hand in hand... and who can say just how desperate the professor might be, exactly? It was fortunate he’d decided to ease off a bit earlier, making it possible to bet that such extreme weren’t on the table. Not that he wouldn’t watch the man prepare it very carefully, just to be sure. “Ah.. yes. Thank you.” he nodded, softening his expression.

It was then that Arthur surprised him for the first time, with an impromptu comment about his name. It could even be taken for flattery, if one assumed attractiveness was one of the prerequisites for this parallel to be drawn. “Like you wouldn’t believe.” The corners of his lips curled upwards and amusement glinted in his eyes. After all, it couldn’t be denied that his appetite for carnal pleasures was voracious, and that is a facet of love...

But he was no saint at all.

Nicharion cleared his throat, promptly re-conjuring a serious facade. But with the ice broken, he hoped Arthur would take it as dedication to his job, instead of being overly unapproachable as he made sure to appear at first. “Have you seen or heard anything out of the ordinary, then? I understand you appear to be busy... packing for a trip? But even a small, seemingly inconsequential detail could make a difference.”

manip + code: clae