47th of Ash, Year 4622
Night loomed over Leiden, the moon's pale light filtering in through the window-pane. It was unusual for an employer to schedule an interview for the early evening, but the Covenant often acted in unusual ways — it was essential, they would argue, to be discreet. In the years that had passed since his induction, Taelian eventually learned, mastered and became an advocate of their shadowy modus operandi. He was a changed man, no longer the fledgling Sil'Norai he had been when first he met Eloise in Tyrclaid's woods. He was barely even a Sil'Norai anymore, and his culture, mannerisms and even his language had changed from back then: he wore the dapper suit of a Loric gentleman, he spoke with Lorien's cool, low accent and he carried himself less like a haggard Ebon Knight, and more like a member of the intelligentsia.
He supposed he was that, now — he rarely thought of the ways in which he had changed, but sometimes he did, and it was rarely not disconcerting. Sitting behind a desk, ready to interview another man for a position he wouldn't have even heard of half a decade prior... this was one of those strange moments in which he reflected again.
The room he found himself in was undoubtedly nice: it was paneled with excellent woodwork, the furniture a dark, lacquered brown with decorative patterns covering the cushions and accents. The marginally open window allowed for the cool breeze of Leiden's streets to roam through, filtering through the room in a heave before returning outdoors at the end of every solemn breath. Along each corner, save for the one with the window, was a painting of the most important members of the Covenant: Eloise was directly behind him, wearing an elegant green satin dress from Lorien's high society . . . flanking her was Regis, inevitably wearing a suit, and directly in front of Taelian — beside the entry door — was his own painting, appearing stoic as always. He placed his elbows against his desk, running his palms over his features and sighing between their gap.
The Celebrant reached into the small desk-drawer that was abdomen-level with him, pulling out a small box with dials and a glowing blue gem inside: a radio, forged with Resonance. The contents of the upcoming interview were sure to be recorded, if only for the amusement of Miranda, or Eloise.
A few knocks were heard at the door. "Come in," the man muttered, and a well-dressed woman quickly entered, closing the door behind her.
"Lord von Klade, the sociologist has arrived. Would you like me to send him here?" she asked.
"Yes, thank you, Hilden," Taelian replied.
With a nod, the woman excused herself, leaving the door parted open and disappearing down the hall. The man took a deep breath, scribbling down a header for the notes he would take as the interview progressed.
