The Substitute Senior Steward-Summoner (Closed)

Ethan's free hand shot up immediately at the voice, closed but for a single raised finger. He said nothing and continued to write the closing lines of what appeared to be a letter. He didn't recognize the voice, as it was one he had not heard in two months, something he would no doubt spite himself for once he was again alone. A swift flourish of the quill signed the bottom of the paper, which was then folded and slipped into an envelope. That too was signed, then dated and sealed with deft precision before finally being placed upon a stack of nearly identical documents, all letters, all unsent.

He finally looked up, locking eyes with Tybresa, though his own sunken, half-lidded blue eyes barely even flickered with recognition. No, his expression did not so much as budge from its usual neutral mask, the only noticeable difference from when last they had seen one another being his visible exhaustion.

"Senior Steward Farrister-Cassalantar, welcome back."

Simple words, but there was no need for anything more than what he gave, a reply to the greeting he was given. He pushed the chair back from the table and stepped around it, passively waving for her to reclaim her seat.

While Tybresa flits about the room, Ethan remains where he stood, bringing thumb and forefinger to his chin in thought. As kindly as he is able, he judges his superior, her expression, her posture, her tone, her steps, even the pace at which she breathes. Quietly, he is gathering data as she speaks, knowing that he is not nor has ever been particularly skilled at conversing with his superiors. He had always preferred to speak of goals and objectives instead of feelings, despite that, he is an astute judge of character and he is aware that something within the Senior Steward is amiss.

As her gaze levels upon him, Ethan locks eyes with her, shifting to an almost angry look unconsciously. He holds no ill will toward the like-aged woman, the look is one of concern, but a mixture of fatigue and inexperience with emotional expression stops it from appearing as it should. When the petal departed its grip in the flower, the look breaks for a moment to catch the movement, only to dart back where it had been before the plant matter could touch the floor.

As she produces the ornate identification and offers it to him, he finds himself staring at it. Perhaps, he considers, it is childish, but something about her presenting his identification seems to scream significance. They had both been inducted to the Stewards at almost the same time, and even though she was his senior in station, this felt like an offer of equality, of cooperation and unity. The thought turns his lips up and into a subtle smile and he places a hand on the choker and that of his senior, letting it linger there as he gave Tybresa a meaningful look.

"For as long as I have been a Steward, I have tried to help the League in any way I was able. But only now do I feel as though our place is truly necessary. You may feel as though by your position you stand apart from us, removed from the rest, but I stand beside you. We will succeed. There is no other choice." Ethan spoke, finally lifting the choker from Tybresa's hand and donning it proudly once again.

As his boss spoke to him, frankly and kindly, he listened, his smile enduring the length of the speech, until her hand came to rest on his shoulder, when it became more broad and genuine. He'd worked beside Tybresa for many years now and gestures like this were extremely rare. He made a mental note, though tired, to remember it. As the woman's fingers moved the hair from his eyes, a rebellious eyebrow shot up in confusion, despite his best efforts to quell the distinct show of emotion.

"I shall see to it that they are gathered for your meeting, Senior Steward. And I would like to thank you for the opportunity to test myself, to moonlight your position. While I am tired, I am also happy, for I have been able to gauge my ability and know now how I must improve." Ethan's smile fades slightly as he finishes speaking, the mask of neutrality returning.

He turns and gathers his belongings in short order, using the blanket as a makeshift carrying device for the clock and pillow, while a suitcase is opened and his personal work is removed from the desk. While initially, it was a disorganized mess, once his own papers are gone, the size is diminished easily by half, and Tybresa's current workload was still left neatly organized in the manner it had been. Beside it all, was a stack of what looked to be sixty envelopes, each sealed with Ethan's personal heraldry.

With his affairs in order, he turned to leave, arms full with his belongings. Only once he reached the door did he stop and look back over his shoulder, replacing his mask of inexpression with a sly grin.

"I've left upon your desk some important documents. I had considered mailing them to you while you were away but decided against." Ethan did not bother to explain their contents, though if she were to open one of the dated letters, she would find a distressingly accurate description of the Steward Council's activities as well as personal reflections and explanations of current events on the inside. In some cases, these letters were several pages long, though on slower days, they were merely a single paragraph.

"Is there anything more you require of me, Senior Steward Farrister-Casalantar?" He finally asked, prepared to stay if he had to.

"If I am able, I will be in attendance for our meeting, Senior Steward. If my body should interfere, you have my apologies." Ethan explained, giving Tybresa a final look. There was much work that needed doing and there was no time for rest now. Since there was no more that needed saying, he left, pulling the door closed with his foot.

His pace was swift, stopping at each of the domiciles of the resident Stewards and instructing them on the time and date of the meeting. He had not even bothered to return his bedding before doing so, fearing that his proximity to a bed would risk his continued consciousness. Only when every one of the other Stewards had been informed did he retire, expecting to awaken in time for the meeting, but realistically understanding that it was unlikely.

Ethan's exhausted body lay completely dressed upon his bed, the blanket and pillow folded neatly beside him as he was arranged crosswise along it. A pulse of strong magical energy beside him provoked nothing but a mechanical slapping of the arcane timekeeper beside him to silence it. It had worked, and with nothing but a grunt, he was back within the land of sleep.

Ten minutes of utterly still slumber passed before the device made another commotion, this one rousing the Steward completely from his rest, his eyes jolting open wide with shock. He was never late. He resigned himself never to succumb to that much fatigue ever again as he went about his business of preparing for the meeting, glad that his gender had it relatively easy.

A quick running of his finger through his hair brought it back to its typical state, just as a rubbing of a brush across his teeth cleared the awful taste of stale saliva from his mouth and a splash of water on his face roused the alert look in his eyes. He quickly changed robes, darting about the room with feline grace as he prepared in nothing more than his small clothes.

The entire process took six minutes and when his case had been collected from where it rested beside the door to the bleak, barren room, he left in a hurry, carried forward as if possessed by some otherworldly force. The meeting would no doubt already be underway and from the look of the closed door when he arrived, it was. Heedless, he shouldered it open and looked about the room.

Ethan's sharp gaze quickly took stock of what was happening in the room, the stifling air of tension and spite that hung like a miasma around the table. From the raised hands and the look of Tybresa's face, he could tell that he had arrived precisely as he was needed. His luck had held, it seemed, he was once again able to claim to never be late.

The only steward other than the Senior and himself without a raised hand was the precocious Noxian. Ethan had been surprised that he had not attempted to stage his coup while Tybresa had still been away, his anger and malcontent had been obvious and growing with every meeting Ethan had presided over. Nevertheless, Ethan allowed himself a few moments of thought, even though he did not require it. Merely a way to allow tensions to build.

Finally, Ethan took a step toward the nearby bookcase and fetched a book, more a manual, of charters and rules, flipping through the pages as lethargically as he could, knowing the exact page he sought but in no rush to get there. He placed the book on the table, standing directly beside the Freljordan steward, tall and imposing beside the seated man. The tension that existed in the room prior to his arrival seemed to magnify with every passing group of pages. Ethan smirked under his hood as the steward finally cracked beside him, pushing to his feet and toppling the chair in which he sat.

"Just vote you sociopath! Stop screwing with us!" He called, anger apparent in his voice. His hand was pointing at Ethan's hood, shaking slightly, but Ethan knew exactly why.

In two months, Ethan had not been nearly as idle as he seemed, not so exhausted by his double workload as he seemed. He had been investigating, yet it had been largely fruitless until very recently. Ethan pushed back his hood and stared, eyes wide and empty, expressionless to a fault, at the other steward.

"I will spare your honor the attack. Relinquish your choker, and leave." Ethan said, opening the charter to the exact page he had been searching for without so much as a glance at the book. The page was dog-eared, he had read it every day near for a week, just to memorize the passage he required. When the other summoner didn't move,

"Article 94, Amendment B reads; 'Any Steward that, during an ascension vote, is known to have engaged in treachery and/or conspiring to overturn a ruling that is decided by the Steward Council is to be discharged from active service to the Institute dishonorably and without hesitation, pending full investigation from a representative hand-chosen by the High Council of Equity based upon suggestions by the currently presiding Senior Steward'." Ethan explained, mechanically, his unflinching gaze still locked on the Freljordan man.

As Ethan opened his briefcase and retrieved a bundle of documents, some of the attending stewards exchanged confused glances, but the accused Freljordan did not budge, instead laughing.

"Do you intend to prov-"

Ethan silenced him with a firm look, utterly passive but almost inhumanly frightening in its alien lack of expression. The bundle was opened, a series of papers spilling onto the table before him, most looking official, but one, likely the most damning, was simply a shred of cloth.

"Firstly, a statement from the Valoran banking service. A recent influx of money far greater than any League stipend is added to your account two weeks previous to this date. I had spoken to you the week previous as to why you seemed to be acting strange, spending ludicrous amounts on frivolous things, when previously you had been a frugal man. You claimed that your grandfather had perished in your native Freljord, a victim of murder. You gave a name, stating that he left for you a lump sum of money that was equivalent to the previously noted influx observed here." Ethan slid the bank papers across the table to Tybresa for review, then took the next paper in hand.

"Your family name, Archus, you had said, was not the name of this grandfather, instead having gone by Dianoule. You joked that despite the death in your family, you remained in service to the League, unlike someone, though when pressed, you refused to mention whom it was you were referencing." Ethan could not stop a slight, barely noticeable narrowing of his eyes before he continued. "I had prepared a care package and located funding within the budget to aid the Dianoule family with funerary services, but when I went looking for the family of the deceased Henrik Dianoule, I came up with nothing. None had heard of them. Instead, I sent letters in search of a Henrik Archus and his family. Several correspondents replied, though each of them claimed that there was no recently deceased man named Henrik. I have this..."

Ethan waved a letter in hand, then tossed it upon the table idly, allowing all to see the Archus insignia that signed it. He spoke again.

"It is a letter from your mother, with whom I exchanged several letters in search of your deceased grandfather, who would have been your mother's father. Despite initial confusion at my queries, it finally came to light that your grandfather on your mother's side was named Kerrik Archus and had died three years previous." Ethan stopped and simply looked at the other man.

He said nothing at all.

"The cloth scrap you see before you is written largely in code but is for the most part easily decipherable. The numbers, which were never in code to begin with, match the lump sum you see upon the bank statement, while the other words I was capable of decoding say 'Upon return, cast for'. There is one final word that I was incapable of interpreting, though it stands to reason that it would be a name or perhaps title. It was brought to my attention by a junior summoner, one you had paid to clean your room and service your needs." Ethan lowered his voice, steeped with a tinge of disgust, stepping closer to the Freljordan man, holding out a hand. "Relinquish your choker, you stand accused of conspiracy and with evidence provided, are known to be guilty beyond a reasonable doubt, pending review by the High Council of Equity."

The man sputtered slightly, looking around at the other assembled stewards. Both Noxians said and showed nothing, not even looking at the man. The Bilgewater and Zaunite stewards simply looked confused, while the Demacians both looked angry while the rest, simply watched the proceedings.

The accused looked back and forth from one face to the next, until he finally let out a resigned sigh and gave his choker to Ethan, unsure what more he could say to possibly defend himself in the face of such overwhelming evidence, much less redeem himself in the eyes of his peers.

"You will find that this steward's vote is null, for he is not a steward any longer. I abstain from voting." Ethan was still nose to nose with the taller man, staring into his eyes, yet talking with volume enough to command the room.