Ceasarus blinks.
"Oh, you said ex Mercere I thought, well, that you might have messages. there has been a lot of mail from Africa recently."
"I'm not a redcap, I'm a gifted Mercere. Is the volume of messages from the African tribunal unusual?"
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"This place is masterfully designed," the Jerbiton says as he wanders over to settle himself down near Aban. "The colors are notable and muted - they appear to be good matching, rather than any repainting to cover scuffs. The soothing and numbing choice of design makes ones' mind weak and vulnerable to their interrogation and study." He says the whole thing with an amused cheer. "And the glimpses of beautiful landscape outside makes one eager to escape their clutches and return to the glory of nature."
He smiles brightly to the other man, before taking a moment to search into the artist's satchel he always carries. "And I think I'm out of material to sketch."
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"For the past several months it has been, apparently the issues originated when one of the three covenants stopped getting or sending messages, including notifications regarding the meeting of the next tribunal. Of course if three or more covenants do not meet for a tribunal then the legitimacy of the tribunal itself becomes an issue. On the other hand using magic to check on their status and make sure they are okay is also problematic. On top of which the lead quaestor for the tribunal was in the missing covenant, so suddenly all of that correspondence has been coming here as well." He stops and looks at you with an eye of intrigue, "Honestly, I would have thought that a mercere from Africa would have been aware of all of this."
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Aetherius sighs. "Joy. We're the covenant that stopped writing. The past year has been complicated for us. You need not worry about that anymore, I suppose. We're alive and I suppose we'll meet with our sodales from Africa soon."
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Before you depart in the morning Sergius stops by for a brief chat "I thought I would give you a heads up, when a new Quaesitor is selected for your tribunal, it is the intention of Magvillus to request that they be housed at your covenant. The central location that made your covenant ideal when it was, your past self I suppose, still applies, and we also feel that your covenant might benefit from the introduction of outside, and especially experienced outside magi. It is however your decision whether or not to accept."
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The conversation with Caesarus brought him to the single topic he didn't really want to discuss. Seeing the magi doesn't really engage him in further conversation, Aetherius politely excuses himself after thanking his for sharing the news about Africa.
In the morning, as he hears the news brought by Sergius, Aetherius remains reserved and avoids directly commenting one way or another. "Good to know. We can discuss that with our sodales at the covenant when we go back."
After breakfast, he turns to Aban @Seon. "I believe our next stop is in Sicily, to see if our Perfecti did catch the ship to Nice or went elsewhere after all. I believe you know the local area?"
After leaving the conversation, Tastheus left to enjoy the room and rest. He thought that handing over his title would make him feel better, but it was far from being the case. The night had been difficult, as is often the case when one doubts his choices. He had to pull himself together, and quickly...
The next morning, when Sergius came to see him, he nodded.
"I understand, we'll talk to our sodales about it. I'll take the opportunity to pass on to him any documents I have that might interest him. But as for accepting him as a member, that doesn't depend on me alone."
He smiles "Of course, I just figured with, well, whatever you have been through you might want to have an advanced notice." Then he sets down to a breakfast of ham, eggs, and steak.
"I know it, yes. I can take you to Sicily."
We'll take the saucer there, I suppose.
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Taking the saucer to Sicily requires flying higher than before, since the mainland of Italy has a much larger population than flying over open water and often back country that has been most of your trip thus far. You make it to Sicily by mid afternoon, and the port city is very busy, and there are war ships in the harbor.
Plasmatoris is quite displeased at the jam-stuffed saucer flight, as usual, but he will quietly endure it. His delight at seeing Sicily from above, however, is obvious - he does manage not to unbalance himself or anyone else, luckily.
"I think it is best for us to approach form a non-aerial method, find a quiet place to settle down, and then head in. I am definitley worried about our ability to casually enter into a busy city that looks like it has been prepared for hostility."
Aban tries to do as Plasmatoris instructed - find a good hiding place for the saucer a small distance from the city.
"The war is mostly fought in the mainland, I believe, but prudence is warranted."
You find a spot to land in the foothills, at about 800 paces in altitude and four miles from the port. There are some goats being herded in the general area, but not many people around.
Aban hides the saucer in some shrubbery and turns it invisible to boot, making a note of some landmarks and marking the spot with a red cloth.
"It's a bit of a trek, unfortunately, but this way we won't be seen flying in."
Aetherius lands, abandoning his kite form and will follow Aban as he leads the way.
As you begin walking down the mountain a teenage boy comes running towards you, yelling in Sicillian. Malachai runs towards teh boy yelling "Yes we did come from the sky, isn't it exciting!"
Plasmatoris lets out a deep sigh, shaking his head. "I really hope he doesn't convince that shephard child that we're descendant angels or demons cast to earth," he mumbles quietly to Aban.
Then he straightens his clothing and pushes his hair out of his face, which seems overall a futile effort, and continues to trudge down the mountain. "Don't run too far ahead, Malachai," he calls after the boy. "We are, for the most part, trying to be circumspect here."
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What language did Malachai use in addressing the boy?
Venato