• Closed • [The Museum] Etzorsi Indoctrination (Neronin)

[Gangui]

Cylus 4

Ascending through the circling walls of the commercial ring in the eternal twilight felt ominous to the wild-man. He had never traversed this area of the city and only knew the tall towers of The Citadel from afar. The towers shined eerily in the cold light of Cylus. The wide, stone steps echoed Gangui's footfalls as he climbed further. Shivering, he grasped his fur cloak tighter against the cool light from the moon.

Troubling thoughts filled the void of his mind. The journey of revenge that he had embarked months earlier was already taxing and dangerous to say the least; there was a long road of trial and tribulation in front of him. The acquisition of wealth and martial power was absolutely needed for the fight to come, but Gangui had very little clues as how to proceed. Mustering up all his wit and intelligence, he determined that he must play with the cards dealt to him. He knew how to work hard and how to fight hard, but had very little other knowledge. Thus, he signed up to be a frontiersman for an Etzorsi settlement. The party would embark once the twilight had passed, so until then he had little to do except for rest and prepare. Considering all these things plagued his mind as he ascended further towards the Citadel. Despite these troubling thoughts, the barbarian was in a state of calm relaxation. The much needed break from the hyper-vigilant state required in the wildlands was a blessing indeed, which he attributed solely to Etzorsi power.

Arriving in the hollowed corridors of the towering Citadel brought with it glances of disapproval, bordering disgust. Clothed in fur made him seem entirely out of place; he took mental note to visit the merchants to change his appearance. Approaching a guardsman, he sought out directions to the Museum. After being thoroughly questioned of his motives, Gangui finally convinced the man he was a citizen seeking knowledge of Etzorsi history. Being lead through the halls, it was obvious that they were keeping a close watch on him. Gangui cared not, in fact he thoroughly understood the need for security and the thought of changing his appearance was thoroughly hammered into his head.

Finally reaching the large doors of the Museum, the barbarian was stricken with awe of the unfathomable structure. The idea of creating such a fantastic building filled him with wonder. Upon entering, Gangui felt small and insignificant, never knowing such majesty ever existed in the first place. The looming arched vault they stood in was lined with tapestries, marble columns, and stonework. The Museum was definitely a place of magic to him.

The guard led him to a man and offered an introduction, after exchanging troubled glances with the curator, "This man would like to take a tour,"

Gangui spoke up to help convince the man he wasn't typical peasant rabble, "I am a patriot and want to learn more about Etzos, to better serve our cause,"

[Neronin]

Neronin sighed as the guardsman spoke up. They had been brought in by Tabard to guard against theft during the darkness of Cylus. It was a time of increased popularity for the museum and the Head Curator loathed the influx of 'uneducated rabble' which sought warmth and alternate entertainment from the packed and odorous taverns across the city. Cylus was an odd time that encouraged being indoors. Neronin hated the crowds it drew to the museum and did little to hide that fact.

He turned, folding his arms across his chest and eyed the man the guard had brought before him. He appraised the large man with a critical eye. He was quite a bit more rugged than the usual drones who wandered in, and his visage had something hard-bitten about it. Neronin raised an eyebrow at the evident roughness of the man. It was out of place to say the least. However, he was not Tabard, he did not necessarily think such things demanded scorn. That was to be determined by the man.

"I am a patriot and want to learn more about Etzos, to better serve our cause." As the man spoke Neronin frowned slightly. There it was, the reason for scorn. He was, apparently, just another thrall for the molding. Neronin was surprised this one hadn't been snatched up by the Army, with that eagerness.

Neronin sighed heavily through his nose and motioned the guardsman off. "It's fine, I can take it from here." The Assistant Curator held out a pale, cold hand to Gangui. "I am the Assistant Curator of the museum. You may call me Curator Ron if you'd like." If Gangui took his proffered hand he would notice it's unusually pale color and coldness. Neronin forced a light smile and indicated the stairs at the end of the polished marble hallway. "We can start on the second level if you are interested in Etzori history."

He turned and led the way across the black marble floor. Their reflections walked along side them in the floor like silent familiars. The museum was always clean, kept that way to instill an ever present aura of reverence. It was a temple to the might of Etzori resolve, really. The most ornate trophy room of the elite of history. Their footfalls sounded with soft echoes as they walked, the only sound.

Neronin did not look back at Gangui as he walked. His black robes billowed around his feet. The curator looked utterly at home amongst the polished marble and intricate pillars of the museum. His mind drifted to the various exhibits he could show the barbarous man, Etzori glory wasn't exactly hard to come by in the museum, and it would be a decidedly boring affair to regurgitate the established rhetoric at a willing mind all day. Neronin glanced back at the man as they climbed to the second floor, his fingers lightly tracing the top of the ornate rail.

He turned and lead Gangui into a deserted exhibit of old armor and weapons. On the back wall was a huge tapestry map, woven with excruciating detail. Neronin passed the armor and weaponry on display and waited next to the tapestry. "This is battle tapestry that hung in Marshall Cordo Mahaven's campaign tent for most of his tenure as the prime tactician during the 500-506 campaign against Rhakros." Neronin gestured to the tapestry. "I usually start here because Mahaven's tapestry is a good foundation for the movements and borders of historic conflicts. Neronin pointed with a finger to a faded star woven into the fabric. "This is Etzos. Mahaven was here," Neronin let his finger slide below the city to the south east. "The main problem he faced with the forces of Rhakros is drawing up a strong front that encompassed the entire southern border." Neronin explained in a practiced way. He had given this talk very frequently. "The keys was to remain strong near the river, to protect the flow of supplies, but not to let the western front become weak."

Neronin looked at Gangui, searching his face for understanding. He seemed ready and willing to absorb any manner of heavily biased indoctrination that the museum was able to spew out. It was a damn shame because he seemed like a tough, proven man. That was something Neronin could respect. Perhaps he would alter the rhetoric a bit today. It would be a shame to lose another person to the sludge of Etzori fascism.

"Any questions so far...sir?" Neronin asked mildly.

[Gangui]

"They call me Red-Hair in the wild lands, though my given name is Gangui," The barbarian decided it was a good idea to remain open to the elite members of Etzos. To the commoners and enemies he never gave out his real name.

The tradition of shaking hands was performed between Neronin and Gangui. Though a small gesture indeed, the action spoke volumes about the differences in each man. The curator's cold and clammy hand only added to the overall ominous and lifeless vibe of his appearance. His face was cold, dark, and pale, especially his sunken eyes which gave him an devilish appearance. Gangui's hand, however, was much meatier, warm, and rough with callouses. Positive energy and vitality emanated the man of action. The clash characteristics was not something that Gangui was readily conscience about.

The barbarian was stricken in awe over the glorious nature of the Museum. The impeccable hallowed halls of marble and stone was an experience unbeknownst to him. As Curator Ron proceeded up the stairs, Gangui touched the cold floors and ran his hands along the intricate carvings. The man didn't need much more to be convinced about Etzori righteousness, but the view of the armor displays at the top of the staircase unconsciously hammered more nails into the coffin of the Eztori indoctrination that was occurring.

Stopping briefly to look at a plate hauberk on display, Gangui took notice of the mended defects and holes. These items had obviously been tested through battle. Next up came the tapestry that Curator Ron explained with precise details. Following the white finger, he took in the whole map. Though Gangui had traversed the wild lands around Etzos and committed them to memory, he had never seen or heard of a map like this. Looking up and down what was surely the Westride Plains, he noticed were they placed armies, but couldn't understand why. Perhaps it was because he needed to actually see it in action to understand, but again nothing Gangui was conscience about.

"Protect the river and hold off the western front..." Gangui repeated out loud. Suddenly, a thought of skepticism entered his mind. Despite looking like the walking dead, Gangui trusted the Curators innate elite status and shared his thoughts, "I forded the Westride River many trials ago,"

The wild pointed to an area on the Westride directly west of the city, "No one contested me, not a single Etzorsi in sight, what happened to keeping the western front strong?" The barbarian did not have a strong grasp on the concept yet that 200 arcs would change the political and military landscape tremendously.

[Neronin]

Neronin sighed and looked questioningly at Gangui. The bid, burly man seemed to be completely serious in his question. Neronin sighed and turned back to the tapestry. This would be easier to manipulate that he had initially thought. "Well it was a very long time ago, and battlefields adapt and change. Etzos and Rhakros have been in fluctuating conflict since then, but the terms of the fight have changed." Neronin indicated the battle lines once again. "For one thing, the money stopped flowing." Neronin said, glancing at the entrance to the exhibit. They were still the only ones in the room apart from the empty suits of armor which stood sentinel.

He once again indicated the river leading from Etzos to Foster's Landing. "Soldiers need a lot to be kept in the field. Food, clothing, medical supplies, gear, alcohol, and horses are just some of the things that needed to be shipped along the river. The money for these things came from-" Neronin smacked his hand flat against the map, covering the area around Etzos. "The people. Etzos may have had a mighty army, but they were rapidly growing poor from supporting such a lengthy stalemate." Neronin let his hand drop to his side, he had practiced that move during this particular tour many times and always liked the shocked effect it inflicted in those who watched. "Eventually it was not a decisive victory or a resounding defeat that made them pull out of the conflict, but a simple lack of funds. Both cities withdrew their forces, desperate to regain their power, those in charge grasping to maintain control." Neronin held up a finger, making sure the man was looking at him when he said the next bit. "It is impossible for a leader to stay in power if their people are unhappy enough to disallow it."

He sighed and indicated the map again. "It was twenty years before the conflict with Rhakros came to prominence again." He continued, motioning for Gangui to follow him across the room. "But it was under new leadership. Another family of prominent horse merchants had regained wealth in the economic vacuum that Mahaven's prolonged conflict had caused. These merchants were called the Halkthain. Ruan Halkthain was the patriarch of the family and owned nearly three thousand head of horse by the time he reached the height of his power. All three of his sons were ushered through the ranks to become prominent members of the Etzori cavalry, if I remember correctly." Neronin indicated a set of subtlety different swords in a case on one wall. "Here you can see the subtle change in focus of the cavalry sword here. It becomes longer and thinner, more angular. This is because with the rise of the Halkthain came the first real focus on cavalry in maintaining borders." Neronin said, indicating the lowest of the swords. It had a plaque that read 'Cavalry Officer's sword, Halkthain Era'.

"The focus in cavalry tactics allowed for a farther ranging of patrols. The Grand Marshal at the time created a series of overlaid patrols of cavalry based out of both Etzos and Foster's Landing to patrol the more vulnerable farmland. This connection between the militant arm of Etzos and the merchant powers that be has been maintained since that time." Neronin continued in a whisper, glancing over at the door again. "Any son of a high standing merchant can work their way up the military ranks with little experience and less training. It has even spread from the militant arm to political and bureaucratic stations as well."

Neronin glanced at the man. "You could probably do well for yourself in the army, although you would forever be a puppet under the will of the privileged." Neronin said, watching the man carefully for a response. He had been willing to eat the established rhetoric, and of course Etzos had a lengthy and highly colorful military history. However, that came with a price in other areas that Neronin wanted to make apparent.

[Gangui]

When Neronin delved deeper into the topic instead of shrugging off the question, Gangui suddenly became more alert and narrowed his focus entirely onto the curator.

Other than from the lips of his father, the wild-man did not have any other facts in his conscious to dispute Nero's words. Despite being a sponge for fresh knowledge, Gangui respected his father's world view so much that he had adopted all of his stone cold maxims. By accepting these narratives, especially those concerning personal faith and discipline, Gangui would be skeptic to anything that deconstructed the platform by which most of his actions were taken. His father never explained things like this book-worm though. In the eyes of the wild-man, Neronin was not necessarily the action-inspiring storyteller, however, the density of information that was flowing from the man's mouth was astonishing. It was becoming difficult for the barbarian to comprehend, but he would not allow this opportunity to run past him. The education he received by his father allowed him to mentally keep up with Neronin until the point he mentioned the Halkthain Family. Foreign words like 'vacuum' and 'bureaucrat' tripped Gangui's focus more and more out of sync.

Gesturing as if pulling on the reins of a horse, Gangui bellowed in frustration, "Hold on!"

Gangui had a much simpler way of reiterating Neronin's words. He also demonstrated a somewhat working knowledge of the field. If Neronin was perceptive enough, he would be able to sense this fact within the barbarian, "I get how Etzos ruined their money situation two hundred arcs ago... If there ain't any spoils and they are not about it: keep it moving. Alright. Okay. Etzos still haven't defeated Rhakros yet, so that's still a loss. Okay. But then, you completely lost me!"

The barbarian noticed the Neronin's demeanor as he took the time to explain everything again to him. The temporary student interjected and clarified along the way, but after some time they were able to sort it all out for him. The conversation sounded something like a brother trying to wise up their idiot sibling.

"... so they lost all their gold and had to rebuild again... no, oh alright, not Etzos, eh?... alright... Oh okay, this clan of merchants, the Halktan, stacked their supply of horses in exchange for a hand in the power...alright... They sacked the country?!?... No? Oh okay!... Oh they improved the sword technology?... Yeah I can see the progression. I like this one...Wait, why weren't there horses before?.... I see.... Okay so the Halktan increased Etzos reach and protection... They sure love horses and I can see why!... Yes, I see the story now... The merger of the Helk-tain... Helkthain, okay... Ahem... okay... got it... ohhhh"

Finally the barbarian understood the basic historical timeline Neronin was recounting. There was one point, however, that Gangui could not truly grasp: the merger of the merchant family with the actual government. The barbarian's education did not permit him to dig deeper into the implications of these actions, simply because there was lots of a pre-requisite knowledge to make such inferences. The overall point that Neronin was implying, seemed to glaze over him, however the iron maxims ingrained into his soul guided his next words in response to the curators comment.

When Neronin mentioned being a puppet this triggered in Gangui, despite not be aware of it, a distaste in his mouth that needed to be explained. Guffawing in a truly unorthodox fashion, the barbarian placed a rough hand on Neronin's shoulder and looked at him as if he was the crazy one, "HaKaHaHa! Ahhhh, I bow to no man or Immortal! I came to Etzos for Liberty, I work for myself, good curator, in pursuit of only the most righteous of causes! Ve haqsh hjasa ma'ti'vo! Liberty or death! Isn't that what Etzos is all about? My father told me all the old stories from era's long ago and I believe them all... So no, no the army would not work for me!"

[Neronin]

As he listened to the brash warrior's words the pale curator's mouth thinned into a severe line. He held himself stiffly, his pale porcelain skin losing a shade more color, if that was possible. He waited until the man was done with his explanation. "I can respect that sentiment." Neronin said carefully, letting the words roll slowly off his tongue. "But Etzos is not about liberty. Etzos is about power, like everywhere else in Idalos and beyond. While the common line is liberty from Immortals," Neronin waved a hand at the museum. "Those with power still destroy liberty. Elsewhere it is Immortals, and here it is... horse merchants." Neronin said all of this in a carefully slow and quiet voice. He watched the barbarous man, searching for the glimmer of enlightenment.

Before he could say anything else, however, Head Curator Tabard strode into the gleamingly clean exhibit of ancient weapons and armor. He made not a glance at the rugged warrior, instead focusing completely on Neronin.

"Ah, assistant curator Nero!" His smile was completely business, without any real affection. Neronin had the sneaking suspicious it's purpose was to ostracize those around them, like Gangui. "I have come across some very interesting news we need to deal with." Tabard stepped up and stood in a way that seemed to cut the warrior out of the conversation without a verbal cue. "I have recently found some information that a quantity of very valuable statuettes from Eastern Idalos was on a barge coming from Foster's Landing. The barge in question ran aground and now these statuettes may be left to rot in the river."

Neronin glanced at Gangui, wondering how the man would take being so smoothly cut from their conversation. Tabard had a talent for implying a lack of importance in others. The aura of superiority was one of the many facets of his authority. At first Neronin had simply thought him an ambitious pomp, but the man was much more dangerous than that. "Very interesting, sir." He paused, waiting. He knew this conversation wasn't simply because Tabard thought he'd find it interesting. Neronin didn't find it interesting. Tabard had a problem, the statuettes weren't in his possession and he couldn't pay someone to rectify that. So he had come to Neronin.

"We need to find a way to acquire these statuettes." Tabard said. Neronin translated 'we' to mean 'you'. Tabard stared at him expectantly. Neronin stared back, his mind sliding around the problem. He didn't particularly care about the statuettes, the museum had thousands of examples of artwork. It served no function for his interests. He didn't want Tabard's agitation, however. Neronin's eyes flickered onto the barbarian for a moment, the thin line of his mouth sliding into a half smile.

"Well, Head Curator, may I introduce my friend Gangui." Neronin indicated the warrior with a pair of fingers. "He likes money, and he also has experience in the field." It was the most minimalist effort he could input and still put this problem on someone else. Neronin found himself feeling glad the barbarian had walked in that day.

Tabard turned his smile onto Gangui, though it did not reach his eyes. "Ah, hello sir." Tabard said, his interest in the man ignited as a use appeared for him. Tabard's cool eyes shifted over the barbarian, as if assessing some traits only he could see. "You have experience in... the field?" He asked lightly. The luxurious robes resettled as he crossed his arms, staring at Gangui expectantly.

[Gangui]

Gangui watched carefully as the pale curator retorted his words on the topic of Liberty. His father had warned him of such people that would try to deter him from the message of truth; according to his father's logic, Neronin truly didn't understand the true meaning of the word despite being able to shade in a few details of what it actually meant. Liberty was a noble ideal meant only for the strongest and hardiest of men who were not afraid to die. True freedom came with more responsibility with higher risks and deeper punishments. Those who accepted these facts and moved on were the ones who truly embraced the ideology. Perhaps the curator didn't think Gangui smart enough or too ignorant to understand. Perhaps the curator did not fully understand Liberty himself. The barbarian was not entirely conscience of his father's logic, but rather simply felt it through his gut intuition.

There was no time to decipher nor indulge in a conversation about Liberty though, because another man entered the scene completely interrupting Gangui's turn to speak. Anger jetted up into Gangui's stomach, but this simply caused a grim frown on his face and a clenched fist. Despite being raised in the wilds, his father was an Etzori and taught him well.

The man seemed to be wearing brighter and more expensive clothing than Neronin. The subtleties of the two men's interaction was lost to Gangui, however he could tell that Neronin seemed to submit to the will of this man without question. Perhaps he was a man of great authority in Etzos, at the very least within these sacred halls. There was no time to contemplate these things though, because he was suddenly put on the spot.

Looking the senior curator in the eyes, Gangui reached out for the implied proposal as it was his nature to pounce on any such opportunities, "I am a loyal patriot, a fighting man, and know how to traverse the wild lands alone. I will retrieve this statuette for you and if I find the person who stole from you. I will slay them, or bring them here if you want to kill them yourself,"

Tabard's eye widened in delight at some devious thought, "Oh, no, don't do that Gangui," He paused and spoke slowly as if he was giving directions to a child, "Find the statuettes, bring them to me, and I will reward you with big, big pieces of gold,"

Gangui's right eye ball began to quiver in mild confusion. Luckily for both Gangui and Tabard, the barbarian yet couldn't yet grasp at Tabard's subtle insult. Should he have understood the insult, though, things may not have turned out favorably. Conscious of the man's power however, Gangui accepted without asking Tabard to clarify himself, "Consider it done. I will leave once the twilight passes,"

Tabard instantly plastered a fake smile on his face, "Great! And remember Gangui don't tell them who you are working for, got that?" Despite being confused at this request Gangui nodded silently; he saw no problems with openly seeking the statuettes. "I expect to see you in late Ashan then. I will take my leave now,"

Looking at Neronin in the eyes, Tabard seemingly conveyed the power of authority on to him. Leaning in closely he whispered into the man's ear, "Assistant, the statuettes are your responsibility regardless. If this barbarian messes up it is also your head as well," Flipping around Tabard walked away just as quickly as he came in.

Gangui knew that something strange had just occurred. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was a cultural difference between the elites and himself that he couldn't grasp. Staring in silence, Gangui decided not to think too deep into it.

"What a strange little man...." Gangui mumbled, before quickly regaining his focus. Turning back towards Neronin, "Well, can you tell me more about these statuettes? How do I know I found them? Also I'll need gold up front to hire help in this task. Also why does it have to be all secrete like?" Gangui hoped internally that Neronin wouldn't think his questions stupid.

[Neronin]

Neronin listened to Gangui's inquiries silently. "No, I can't tell you more about the statuettes, chances are they will be in padded crates with the seal of the Etzori Museum on them, though." He finally responded. Neronin was glad he would not be personally going on this expedition, and rather proud of his own manipulation. "I would think that with a working plan Head Curator Tabard would be able to give you some amount of funds for the exploit. He would, as Head Curator, be in charge of handing out such expenses." Neronin said, frowning slightly at the question.

Certainly Neronin himself did not have access to the riches with which the Etzori Museum maintained its hold on all things artistic or culturally significant in the region. Tabard had never let him manage funds more than delivering payments, and even then it had only been to private collectors within the city limits. Handling of the Etzori gold seemed to be a responsibility only left to those he trusted completely, which was Tabard himself.

Neronin cared not for statues nor any of the more artistic relics within the walls of the museum, but he cared for his job. He would have to make sure the damned buffoon had a working plan and understood the stakes. He did not want to have to acquire these pieces from a private collector after Gangui had failed. An image of himself breaking into a rich Etzori home and murdering the old merchant who had found the statues drifted through his mind. Well, perhaps such an alternative would not be so unpleasant. No. That would be far too risky for him, though he doubted Tabard would care.

"There are many private collectors who are interested in these statuettes as well... I have no idea why." Neronin could not keep the disdain out of his voice. "You will have to keep your venture quiet while preparing so that they do not catch wind of if. Tabard, as Head Curator of this place, has certain resources they are not privy to so it is safe to say you have a significant head start on your competition. However, they may seek to take these things from you before you return, which would leave you without payment..." Neronin paused significantly.

He took a moment to gesture at the museum around them. He indicated the marble floors and the golden friezes lining the tops of the walls. His gesture seemed to encompass the many priceless artifacts and their fine cases. "We are the strongest bid, Gangui. You should take this as a fortunate opportunity to fall in line with the right sort of people." He stared at the man, making sure he understood the subtext of his message. "They are fools, but they are rich fools. There's no reason you shouldn't get a bit richer as well, eh?"

Neronin began leading the warrior back towards the main hall. He hoped the man would keep his movements under wraps at least until he was underway with his expedition. "I will get you in contact with a bargeman who has carried our items before. He is familiar and will be willing to help, for a price. The man is a Biqaj, or half-breed, named Verron. He has a chipped tooth just here..." Neronin indicated his top left incisor. "And green eyes. You can ask around at the docks for the man when you have everything in order. Neronin lead the warrior towards the door, answering any final questions Gangui might have and scouring the man with his eyes, assessing him.

The statuettes are your responsibility regardless... What a damn inconvenience.