| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
A gentleman regarded Westchannel and the islands beyond from the vantage of a balcony on the western shore. The sunset behind him shone a brilliant orange on the walls of high vira and palaces of Rego Corna, northernmost of the island sectors of Westcrown, laid out for his view. It illuminated the lesser sectors of Laina and Aerum precisely as beautifully, which the man found amusing. The fresh breeze from the Inner Sea blew the short cape from his shoulders and snapped the pennons adorning the mansion where he resided, pennons proclaiming this house the residence of the highest prelate of the Church of Asmodeus.
The pennons were hardly needed, for the man wore the full splendor of the Cardinal’s robes to which he was entitled. Though not of lofty stature nor impressive build nor exquisite face, the man’s impeccable grooming and posture displayed the impressive red and black garments to their full effect. No passers-by could mistake the gentleman for anything other than what he was: Cardinal Goro Altoviti, late of Egorian, newly named high cleric of Westcrown.
Though most nobles and clergy in Egorian regarded Westcrown as a sort of disgraceful exile, Cardinal Altoviti had requested it, if by requested one understood constant petitioning of his superior for a number of months. She was dismayed to have her most promising protege suffer a transfer to such a mean post, for it reflected badly upon her as well as he, she thought. Nonetheless, she had finally granted his request, persuaded by his smooth reasoning and considerable charm, precisely as he knew she would.
Altoviti had eschewed the clerical chambers in the Qatada Nessudidia, the great temple of Asmodeus in Westcrown, much to the relief of their current occupant. Instead, he had used persuasion and wealth to separate an ancient crone of a near-extinct family from her too-large hereditary mansion - as the last of her line, she had no need of it - and sent her to a more fashionable retirement in Egorian, where she could be entertained by parties and opera nightly in that glittering city. Altoviti now had his own headquarters, secure from the prying eyes of his church’s useless priesthood in this city, where he could quarter his own staff and meet with adherents freely.
He had relocated to this new demesne quite recently, receiving the polite, uncertain bows of the Wiscrani with impassive and precise courtesy. Now he could take a few moments to survey the heathen territory of his new priesthood, with the church at his back and his enemies before him, bathed in orange light. He had scarcely relaxed into sunset musings when a knock came upon the door.
“Enter.” A cloaked, hooded, and gloved figure let itself into the room, gliding over to bow profoundly before the Cardinal.
“Well, what news?” the great man asked.
“They are parochial and suspicious,” the man replied, “And it may take some time to gain trust.”
“That is no surprise; it is just as we thought,” replied the Cardinal, “And you cannot complain of being short of money or support to accomplish your goal. I desire results, not excuses.”
“As His Excellency wishes,” replied his companion, coolly, “As I have no cause to complain about support, neither shall you have cause to complain of my results. Gold opens many doors, and this is a poor city; once a few fall, an avalanche will follow. The old noble house are the worst, yet they must do business with tradesmen and craftsmen, each of whom know a little of their habits. I, though, shall know all their habits together, and you shall know what I do, My Lord.”
“Tread prudently in the city, and I will do the same in the church. When we see the tracks of our quarry, or a stray ear or antler behind a tree, well, then I will summon the huntress.”
The hooded man chuckled. “As you say, Excellency.” At a dismissing wave of Altoviti’s hand, he bowed and withdrew.
“We are agreed, then? We begin the thing immediately?” The light tenor was muffled by the thick tapestries lining the stone walls of the windowless room.
“I still think we should finish planning first.” The woman’s voice was sullen, she apparently accustomed to having her way with the world.
“We know we must continue to meet and determine our final position, but waiting now gives the Church more time to act. Or the Crown, instrument of the Church.” The new man’s voice had a pleasant gravel bottom with warm overtones.
“Here now, no treason. We are Wiscrani and Chelaxians; we are loyal to our country. More loyal than many who govern in Egorian. If we were not, we could have left long ago, as many of our peers did. The Church serves the Crown, but is unnecessary to government,” the tenor chided gently.
“I think we all agree with that.” The dry statement elicited a general chuckle from the gathering.
“This is a discussion for another day. For now, send me your most faithful servants. I swear I will use them well. Give me names of any you wish to contact. It will all be done under my banner, should any charges be leveled or actions taken, to protect you and this group. We need a second in command, though, in case I am taken,” Gravel continued.
A different woman sighed. “So much theater. I tell you, there is no need to be this secretive. We are ignored, as always. The more guilty we act, the more attention we are liable to draw!”
“You may be right,” Tenor replied, “but we cannot assume that we will continue to be ignored. There may be spies about already. Given that this is Cheliax, there doubtless are. And someone must oppose the Council of Thieves. No family in attendance here has been sullied by that association, thank the gods. We owe it to Westcrown, to Cheliax, to our own families, and to each other to band together for the good of the people, the good of the Crown, the good of the country. Besides, if we are disorganized - or worse, spectators - we shall be cut out of everything as the country changes.”
“Practicality married to idealism - how can we possibly go wrong?” Gravel chuckled, “And now, we adjourn. Three weeks more, we meet again, and I let you know the first project’s progress. You know what you must do now. Think well on our next steps. Until then, take care.”
A general murmur of agreement and scraping of chairs followed as the gathering dispersed. One low murmur betrayed the casting of a spell, and a pair vanished while the others moved to avail themselves of more standard means of transportation.
The Heritage Council was officially in business.
A tall figure clad entirely in leathers entered the Lord Mayor’s office without knocking, ignoring the sputtering objections of the secretary before the door.
Sclavo Parvue, Lord Mayor of Westcrown, glanced at the figure and motioned his secretary to withdraw. Closing the door himself, he proceeded to the fireplace and sank into a chair opposite the one the figure had thrown itself into.
“Troubles, Captain?” he asked, noting the dour expression on the dark-haired woman’s tired face.
“No more than usual, Sclavo. And call me Janiven. All these titles annoy me. It’s like we can’t talk to each other anymore.”
“Janiven. My apologies. I only wished to acknowledge your accomplishments and new rank. Not so new now, I suppose,” the older man soothed, catching the sour mood of his friend.
Janiven sighed. “I should not complain, I suppose. Managing the guard is one thing, but Mayor? I would shoot myself, I think.”
Sclavo winced at his compatriot’s careless words, but decided to save the rebuke for another time, one when the woman was not so touchy. “It is a great deal of paperwork and social obligations and the like. I knew that when I took the job. Remember, the bureaucracy was my life. I am accustomed to recordkeeping and political games. The difference is that now I can make some decisions. It's... freeing.”
Janiven nodded, brooding into the fire. “How are things with you? Have the office cleaned up yet?”
Sclavo smoothed his white mustache. “It was remarkably clean when I took possession of the place. Almost as if the prior occupant were barely ever here.”
To his relief, his companion finally glanced at his face to see if he were joking, and produced a smile in response to his. “Fancy that,” she said drolly, “He must have been a terribly tidy person.”
“I imagine,” Sclavo chuckled. Both he and Janiven knew that the prior mayor had been an utterly useless appointee from Egorian who fled town at the first sign of the troubles that had thrust their little group of rebels into the spotlight - and into power. “I have been shut up here and with the nobles for weeks. How is everyone else? It feels like ages.”
Janiven sighed. “I know. I miss the closeness of the old days. Arael is pursuing his ministry in Rego Cader, along with Morsino. Amaya has just returned to town recently. Her family in Kintargo insisted she visit until they were certain Westcrown was safe for her to return to. Ermolos and Gorvio are back in their businesses, which are thriving with the commonfolk, if not with nobility. Larko, Mathalen, and Rizzardo have returned to work - which for Rizzardo seems to be allowing others to buy him drinks so he can tell of his exploits. He takes to that too well.” She shakes her head sadly. “Fiosa is off on one of her journeys. She still will not speak of her work. I suspect the it may have to do with beautiful flowers.”
That confirmed Sclavo’s own thinking. “She may be small in stature, but she has a giant’s heart.” He rose and packed a few papers into a leather case, then locked his desk and safe. “I fear I cannot stay long, my dear. I have dinner tonight with Lord Tilernos, then briefs to read.” Janiven rose and accompanied him to the door.
“Who knew being heroes could be so much paperwork?” she lamented, pulling open the portal so he could exit first.
“Ah, my dear. We were heroes. Now we are rulers, by the will of the people, and we must do our best to keep them happy. We were heroes, true. But that was last week.”
The former rebels went out into the darkening streets together, reminiscing.
House Grulios certainly had had a run of bad luck, by all appearances.
Theo Baskin, trusted family friend and guard of House Phandros, answered his captain’s summons with some puzzlement. He certainly had done nothing wrong, nor had there been any security incidents to explain. “Baskin, I have a special assignment for you,” Captain Argus said after a friendly greeting. “House Grulios has a guardsman ill with something the clerics haven’t been able to cure - you know they won’t go to the Official Church for help - and he’s going to be closeted for some time. They’ve asked us to lend a trustworthy guardsman, and you are the most trustworthy I know.”
Domenico Acerbi found himself on similar footing but with a different attitude. “Grulios is short a man, and we, so far as I am concerned, are over our limit when you are around. They’ve asked for a good man, but I’m sending you.” The Captain smirked. “Assignment starts immediately. Get to House Grulios and ask for Captain Tyspar.”
The Guard Captain of House Tilernos was more judicious with Guardsman Vittorio di Stamenus. “Grulios is one of the oldest and best of the noble houses. I trust you to uphold the dignity of House Tilernos and yourself as you represent our Guard to House Grulios. They have asked for assistance - one of their guardsmen has been called home on a family emergency and may not return for a while - and we are pleased to send you to answer their call, trusting in your judgment and discretion.”
Emiliano Diego Thanos’ Guard Captain smiled on the young noble with apparent regret. “Bad news, Diego,” she explained, “House Grulios had to send a couple of their Guardsmen to Egorian to escort family on the road. They’re short anyway and are asking for temporary support from other trusted houses. I’ve been told to send you. Now, we don’t think they are part of the old Council of Thieves. But we don’t know all of the houses involved. So keep your eyes and ears open for anything odd and report back. Be sure to do your job well. We don’t want you sent back before we’re certain they are untainted by that old scandal. Until then, take care of yourself.”
And so the four Guardsmen found themselves newcomers to the guard of House Grulios under the command of Captain Speranza Tyspar. The house was pleasant enough, with a decent-sized common room for the guard and a rather pleasant family. The patriarch, Asad, was a widower who kept busy running his house’s holdings and keeping an eye on his grandchildren. His eldest son, Vincente, still lived in the family Vira along with his wife, Balbina, and three children: Portia, seventeen; Gaetana, twelve; and Beniamino, six. Vincente was busy running the family businesses, and baby Beniamino was much doted upon, being the eventual heir. Portia and Gaetana were mostly left to their own devices. For Gaetana, those devices were study and music. Portia’s hobby seemed to be getting into everything. Her new tutor, Constanza, seemed to be doing a good job of keeping the girl busy and out of trouble, somehow.
Vira Grulios itself was set on a high, rocky shore overlooking Westchannel and just across one of the grand canals from Rego Corna. Overall, the family seemed prosperous - more prosperous than its Vira, located in the less-fashionable Rego Laina might indicate - but the Great Houses of Westcrown tended to maintain their traditions. Better to remain in the generations-old family home, no matter how unfashionable the district, than to move about like a displaced peasant.
The newcomers’ duties were not particularly taxing - typical noble estate guard, walking the grounds, watching the entries, escorting the family to shops or shows. The four new recruits always seemed to be assigned to the same shifts, and became acquainted during common meals provided by the house cook while they were on duty. Afterward, they were free to take up their usual residences and habits, so long as they returned to their jobs at their appointed times.
One advantage of Vira Grulios for young, carefree Guardsmen was the proximity of the Vira to the middle-class entertainment district of the islands. Affordable bars and theaters were an easy walk or a pleasant boat ride to the south end of Rego Laina or the north end of Rego Aerum. The shadowbeasts were (mostly) banished by the heroes calling themselves the “Children of Westcrown”, so the night was alive again with song and carousing. As long as one had money to pay for such, naturally.
The evening is warm and fair as the newest (and temporary?) Guardsmen of House Grulios make their way through the streets of Rego Laina to what has rapidly become their favorite public house: the Lush Leech. This institution’s whimsical sign depicts, not the disgusting water creature, but rather a vampire apparently three sheets to the wind after dining on a happy drunkard.
The smell of fresh bread and roasted meat fills the street outside the tavern as usual, but the typical ruckus from inside is more subdued than usual. As they enter, the proprietor, Ippolito Peri, hails them from behind the bar, waving the rag he’s using to wipe down the surface.
”Good evening, gentlemen. Good thing you’re here; I’ve saved a table for you but was going to have to give it away soon. Have a seat, be comfortable, and give your order when ready. We’ve got the usual.” He hurries over to the indicated empty table and dusts off a few imaginary specks, pulling out the chairs for them. In a lower voice he continues, ”Sorry about the public table, but the private rooms are full up tonight.”
Domenico sits down at the seat offered to him in a relaxed position and gives his dark hair a brush with his fingers to get it out of his eyes, "So long as the drink is good, the company is pleasant and the dice are fair, I have little concern about such things as public or private!"
He waits until Ippolito is out of earshot to lean in towards his companions at the table, a conspiratorial grin on his face, "I get the sense that something in those private rooms is causing a bit of a stir. A bit of anxiety! I'd be tempted to start a betting pool on who is in there, but I'm afraid that I'll overhear something and ruin it before my wager can be won! What do you fellows think?"
Emiliano (Emil to his coworkers and family, Diego to his friends) drops into a seat next to Domenico. After removing his hat he also moves his hair out of his eyes, but does so with a snap of his neck, causing his hair to flip back. He smiles at the others.
"Ah but Dom! SOME company is so much better if private!" Diego declares with a friendly leer and a wink at one of the barmaids. A lass who had been known to spend some time after hours with Diego.
"I have to agree with you about the drink of course! But give me enough good drink, and good company, and you can KEEP my dice!"
Diego leans forward as he places his own personal mug on the table to be filled once they order. He also lowers his usually boisterous voice to an almost normal level of talking. (Downright quiet for this group.)
"I see what you mean Dom. Yon SuzieQ barely looked at me just now. As if she barely knew me. Takes a bit to make that saucy tart nervous."
Diego leans back, tilting his chair onto the back two (not-too-wobbly) legs. He takes a glance towards the back of the pub, then drops his chair down again. "Sorry. No Dice. I'd happily take your money, Cayden knows you've taken your share of mine! But I'd rather snoop and find out exactly what is going on, and spend my coins on drink!"
Diego makes a show of nursing his injured side and pouts, looking quite wounded. Much to his companions amusement.
"I assure you, my opinion of the woman is quite high." Diego tells the diminutive damsel with a wounded air.
"Almost as high as her own opinion of herself. And well deserved!" He adds sotto voice to his companions with a lascivious wink.
Under cover of his companions chuckles (and a few humorous groans from the next table) Diego whispers back to Marea,... "Cautious does not mean fearful. We can't be afraid to speak the name. That hasn't been outlawed. Yet." He says with a smirk. Nevertheless his hand curls protectively around the holy symbol engraved on the side of his mug as he says it.
"If your so fearful of my besmirching the lady's good name, perhaps you should spare her my further ill-mannered attentions, and help her by fetching our drinks. She is busy after all, and would likely appreciate the help. You know what we'll have. Off you go, there's a good lass!" Diego sits up and says at normal volume, waving his fingertips at Marea in a good-natured 'hurry up' gesture.
"Ah, good help is SO hard to find." Diego sighs to his fellow table-mates.
"She's crazy about me, really. Seriously, follows me about all the time with those big hopeful eyes of hers. I haven't the heart to tell her that I see her her as a sister. My little sister!" Diego tells his friends for probably the dozenth time.
"Now,... What IS happening in yon back room lads? And how are we gonna find it out?" He whispers intently, obviously eager to get back to the crux of their original conversation.
Theo takes a seat down next to Domenico his ears twitching and swiveling to orient on various noises going on around them.
He nods in agreement as the others mention feelings of something going on in the back rooms. "Yes, I feel it too, something seems off... and like Serana, I'm quite surprised you're not trying to bet on it... what's the matter Dom, nothing to bet?"
He could sympathize watching the elven woman walk over to chat with her kinsman, as rare as it was to find an elf in the city Catfolk were unheard of, Theo had received quite a few stares, especially in his younger years, now that people were a little more used to him, and he had a guard's uniform and a rapier on his hip, people tended to gawk less.
The dashing Catfolk's eyes flick between Marea and Diego as they talk, then the soft pointed ears flatten in discontent when Marea is ordered away and Diego starts talking about her. "Marea is a sweet and darling girl Emil, and somehow she puts up with you. You should treat her well, or she may reconsider that last part some day... also if she is truly crazy about you, as you so often say, you do her no favours by no telling her how you feel... though you may want to put less emphasis on the 'little' sister part she is in quite the right height to strike you in a rather unfavourable area." Theo never really caught on to the 'proper' treatment of lackeys and servants, though he recently received one of his own.
"Going snooping around the private rooms we can't be too obvious, I am quite curious though, maybe we can find an excuse to get closer, maybe hear something through the door?"
Diego winces to the chuckles of others as Theo mentions getting struck in the sensitive spot.
"You,... may have a point. I'll take that under consideration." Diego promises blandly.
"Yes, the old listen-at-the-door trick is a tried and true favorite. I, however, was thinking along the lines of something a wee less likely to get us kicked out of our favorite watering hole permanently."
Diego slyly peeks at the table behind him, and spots a regular that he knows by face and first name, but little else. (Less likely to have offended him at some point. Or owe him money.) The dandy leans back on his wooden chair, and address the patron in a hoarse whisper barely heard above the chatter at the next table.
"Oi! Master Bernard! Sorry, but we seem to have arrived late to the party. Who secured the back rooms then? It's usually US being told to go out back so as not to disturb the rest of the payin' clientele." He grins roguishly.
Bernard doesn't smile in return, but grimaces in the direction of one particular private room. "Don't know, really. Strangers. Not Hellknights. Dressed in black and red and with His own unholy symbol on them. Best keep your noses clean tonight. They might have a straight line to Him." The man shudders and turns back to his ale.
Bernard doesn't smile in return, but grimaces in the direction of one particular private room. "Don't know, really. Strangers. Not Hellknights. Dressed in black and red and with His own unholy symbol on them. Best keep your noses clean tonight. They might have a straight line to Him." The man shudders and turns back to his ale.
Diego shudders in sympathy, (although for reasons that Bernard isn't aware of), Nods his gratitude, and re-settles his chair to the floor. The fact that the usually easy-going Bernard didn't even crack a smile at Diego's self-depreciating attempt at humor tells him more than the man actually said.
"Well. There you have it lads. Strangers, but not Hellknights, dressed in church colors and wearing His unholy symbol, and taking over our favorite party room." Diego whispers, chucking a thumb at the room in question.
"I don't know about YOU guys, but if this turns into an UNholy priest club, I'm gonna find a new favorite watering hole!" Diego grimaces comically and reaches for his mug. Upon realizing that it is still empty, he looks both very surprised and extremely depressed.
Diego turns and waves at the bar until he catches Suzie's attention. (Instead of yelling across the room as they would normally do. 'The atmosphere is becoming positively depressing' Diego thinks darkly.) He points at his empty stein with a sad face, then grins hopefully.
Vittorio chuckles, "Go on, Zöe. Truly, I don't need a babysitter..." He quickly his up a hand to forestall the comment he knows is coming, "Fine, I don't always need a babysitter..."
Let a woman save you from yourself on the worst night of your life, and suddenly she thinks you can't go five minutes without getting into trouble... ... I can manage at least 10... 14 or 15 if I'm really trying to behave...
He smiles wryly at the thought, then pushes down a familiar sense of unease as he watches her set up to begin playing, She's comely enough, and Shelyn knows she's been crushing on me for years... yet... It's Desna's own luck I didn't do anything I couldn't take back that night....
He watches her for a moment more, trying to resolve his feelings, Is it because of her brother? Do I think of her like a sister? Or am I worried about losing the one person who loves me?
He shakes his head at that last thought, a sour taste in his mouth which he was away with half a tankard of stout, "Just our luck to find something potentially worse than Hellknights... It's almost enough to take the sweetness from this fine brew."
Susanna:
The serving wench bustles over with a pitcher of foaming ale and a flat board which she sets in the middle of the table. "Fresh drawn, gentlemen. Who needs a fill? Anybody need something else? Dinner to ruin a fine evening's drinking?"
The board holds a half-loaf of bread, serrated knife, and a wedge of cheese that the regulars know from experience is very salty. The waitress tosses Deigo a quick wink as she fills his stein. "Thirsty, Diego?" Though she tries to keep up a cheerful, sassy banter, the effect is ruined by the frequent flick of her eyes to one of the private room doors and her strained smile.
Diego's eyes light up as his mug is filled. (Amazingly, no one has ever actually seen Diego spill so much as a drop from his favorite mug.)
"Thirsty? Always Suzie! You know that! Although right now I'm more than a little hungry, for some of your attention!" The dandy smiles with a wink.
Seeing the girl's nerves, Diego adds, "Maybe later. When your not so busy?" He asks flirtatiously, but gives the girl a reassuring squeeze on her hand instead of the playful pinch he has been known to bestow.
"Wait!" he says, then hastily takes a deep drink from his stein, gulping thirstily, and slams it back on the table already half empty. Again, the drop that splashes upwards falls back into the mug and not the table.
"Seems you missed my cup! Can't have that! I have to catch up to these lushes!" Diego chuckles good-naturedly to the lass as he waggles his eyebrows then adopts his usual 'empty-mug-puppy-eyes' look once more.
Suzanna gives Diego a look that indicates what he can do with his mug, then moves to refill the stein. She flounces over and leans in to give the dandy (and anyone else who cares to look) a daring glimpse of décolletage. Leaning towards her to take advantage of the view, Diego instead whispers in her ear as she pours,...
"Suzie, what's wrong? These commoners be nervous, but ye're scared. And I've seen ye serve an orc. And slap him too! Is all a'right? Whose in the back that makes ye an' our host so nervous?"
Susanna:
Susanna expertly dispenses a foaming mug as she whispers into Diego's ear (under cover of a flirtatious nuzzle). "Not afraid, exactly. They're strangers, they wear the red and black, and they display HIS symbol. You don't wear the Ruler of Hell's symbol lightly. I'm a good Asmodean, but they make me nervous. Never seen any like 'em before." She fingers her Archstar pendant, then straightens up.
"Dinner, gents?"
Vittorio nods, "Aye, I'll need something to go with the stout... And given how the lot in the back room is likely to with scare off all the pretty ladies -- or worse, remind them of their virtue --", he mock-shudders and takes a pull from his tankard to fortify himself, then winks and adds, "So I suppose it'll have to be food."
"Well, I would have bet," admits Domenico in response to the reactions of surprise to his earlier statements, "But I would not have set up the pool. Why, I didn't know the odds, and already the game would have been spoiled." He laughs to himself and says, "I suppose I prefer to bet on dice than on Asmodean clergy. Though..."
He rubs his brow and sighs dramatically, "I was going to bet on clergy... well, there's a lesson to be had there, my friends. If you ever have a chance to bet, take it, because if you do not you will not win! Another drink. To drown my sorrow, of course!" He does not seem sorrowful, but he does seem thirsty.
He nudges Theo and says, "I'll get you dinner tonight, to repay that coin you lent," And then to Emiliano in the same breath he adds, "I'll have to ask you to lend me some coin so that I can pay for my meal and drinks. You would not leave a friend with a dry throat! No, certainly not!"
Diego makes an (obviously) pretend face of unhappiness. Then bursts with a snort of laughter.
"You know me too well Dom! Truly, I cannot leave a friend with a dry throat. On that, at least, we can agree!"
Diego smiles and pushes an empty mug over to Dominico with a murmured word. When Dom looks in the mug, it is indeed filled with beer. Diego winks. (Then glances aside to make sure that Marea did not notice his little prayer and gift.)
"If anyone asks, NOT drinking is against our religion, right lads?" Diego asks earnestly, but with a broad smile.
Susanna:
The serving girl hustles off after Vittorio agrees to food and returns with a large tray laden with heaping plates. She circles the table, setting down a platter before each person with a steaming pile of sliced roast, sautéed vegetables, and bits of pasta tossed with olive oil and cheese. She also sets a board with a crusty loaf and small dish of butter in the center of the table.
"Anything else you need to satisfy your appetites, gentlemen?" she asks with a wink, apparently beginning to recover some of her normal saucy attitude.
"Not just yet love. Maybe later!" Diego waggles his eyebrows at Susanna as he tears into his plate with gusto. The dandy salutes the serving lass with his mug and another wink before almost draining it in a single long draught as well.
Theo nods at Dom's nudging, he knew pretty well that this offer was as close as he would get to repayment from his friend, he smiles ruefully as Domenico proceeds to immediately asks Diego for coin to pay for the meals. "My friend will you always repay the money lender with borrowed coin? Be wary lest you come across someone less generous than we."
The feline like man grins as his mug is filled and even more so when a steaming plate is set before him. "Ahh Suzie you truly know the way directly to a man's heart." When asking if they need anything else Theo sighs softly "If I could find some excuse to keep you here and enjoy your company all night my dear I would already be making it. Though it pains me to let you go, I think it may cause a riot amongst the other patrons if we were to hog all your attention." He slowly rubs his furry chin. "Then again, some things are simply worth fighting a riot over..."
Domenico laughs at Theo's question. "You know well there is nobody more generous to his friends than I am, when the coin is flowing! But, well, you know that I've had a string of black luck, my friend. And I will not say much about black cats crossing my path," Domenico touches his own nose here, "but I'm afraid that if this keeps up, it will be some time before I can treat all my friends to the grand meal that they deserve."
To Susanna, he says, "Nothing more for me. Though if you see anyone who is willing to lose a bet, let me know as soon as you can. Perhaps I will have found something worth wagering by then."
"Ahh Suzie you truly know the way directly to a man's heart." When asking if they need anything else Theo sighs softly "If I could find some excuse to keep you here and enjoy your company all night my dear I would already be making it. Though it pains me to let you go, I think it may cause a riot amongst the other patrons if we were to hog all your attention." He slowly rubs his furry chin. "Then again, some things are simply worth fighting a riot over..."
Diego Raises his mug in salute to both Suzie and the feline warrior.
"Well said my friend, well said! I may have the heart of a lover, but YOU have the heart of a poet my Feline Friend!"
There is a burst of laughter from one of the private dining rooms which grows suddenly louder as the door is wrenched open. Suzie glances up and slinks back to the bar, away from the group now exiting that facility. The rest of the common room grows even quieter, if that is possible. The lilt of Zöe's melody seems suddenly loud and somehow impolite.
The group must be the ones Ippolito referred to. Five in number, they are dressed alike in well-tailored black leather, swords at their hips. A scarlet tabard drapes each, all emblazoned with the inverted pentagram of Asmodeus. Each wears a black hat crowned with a scarlet plume. The effect is rich and striking. Their bearing is straight and elegant, yet their swagger gives them an air of arrogance.
"Ah," says the sloe-eyed gentleman who first opened the door, "I wondered what that horrid noise was." His gaze travels from Zöe (who continues to play, a flush rising in her cheeks) to the house Guards enjoying their dinner. "And that smell. Good thing that we're leaving."
"Oh, Thaddeus," remarks the older woman who follows him over the general burst of merriment that follows the drollery, "You can't expect the countryside to be up to the standards of Egorian. Not that I disagree with you. But we must make allowances. It is only good manners." A glint of chain shows at the woman's throat and right wrist. Oddly, her left hand is tucked inside her tabard, where it remains. She alone does not join in the laughter, but wears a wry, twisted smile.
A brief frown flickers across Diego's features as Suzie scurries back to the debatable safety of the main bar. The dandy may be cavalier in his relationships with women, but he doesn't abide ill-treatment of any woman. And seeing Suzie demonstrate such abject fear enough to send her scurrying for cover quite frankly ticks him off. If he were a feline like his friend Theo, his hackles would be raised.
Diego takes a long pull of his mug (for both dramatic effect, and a shot of courage) ;) and slams it back on the table.
"Easy Theo. Last I checked peacock wasn't on the menu." The dandy whispers with a smile to his feline compatriot.
"Well said my Lady! Good Manners Needs Must! Well said!" Diego slurs loudly and salutes the woman with his half-empty mug before taking another long drink. A wink to his friends tells them he is not nearly drunk enough to slur. Yet.
Diego asks his companions around the table in a stage whisper that carries clearly across the room,... "I wonder if they'd tell me where they got those outfits? I have that Costume ball to attend next week."
At the bar, Marea facepalms herself. Suzie tentatively reaches out and pats her arm.
Vittorio stays seated but raises his tankard at Diego in salute, "I'm not certain that that one would know good manners, unless it were on the menu at a four-copper bawdy house.", then raises it to his lips to drink again... coughing on the liquid at Diego's last comment.
He sets the drink down and then taps himself twice in the chest with his left hand to settle the cough, using the distraction to slide his other hand to grip his rapier. He then rather transparently begins to fake-cough to "cover" his mocking laughter...
I wonder if Zöe has enough political capital to get me out of prison after what's about to happen...
The woman regards Deigo with a flat, disinterested gaze. ”We have not been introduced, sir,” is all she says in reply.
Thaddeus, though, narrows his eyes at the disparagement of the uniform. ”These are the uniforms of the House Guard of the Cardinal of Westcrown. By impugning them, you impugn the Guard. By impugning the Guard, by extension, you impugn the office. And by extension, the Church. And by extension, the Crown. And further, Asmodeus himself. Consider yourself educated.”
Thaddeus shrugs as he sees that Theo's lackey does not carry a blade and turns to Vittorio instead.
"Being Wiscrani, you must be well acquainted with four-copper bawds. Manners are what one uses with an equal. Besides my companions, I see nobody here worth expending them upon."
He digs in his belt pouch and tosses a few coins in Zöe's direction. "I'll pay you to stop, girl."
Four coppers land on the hearthstones next to Zöe's chair.
Vittorio drains his cup then stands slowly, stretching to his full height, "Indeed, your boorish behaviour clearly marks you to be unequalled in unwarranted, undeserved self-important pettiness.. A man of true honour, grace and nobility would not be hiding behind the Cardinal's skirts, for one thing."
He motions around the room, then says, "Given that everyone here was enjoying themselves, and the music for that matter, before you arrived, why not show you have a sliver of personal character and honour your promise to be leaving. That will spare you the pain of enduring a fine establishment and the horrors of what humans with taste call 'fun' -- and spare us the pain of enduring you. That way, we all win."
The woman regards Deigo with a flat, disinterested gaze. ”We have not been introduced, sir,” is all she says in reply.
Diego slaps the table with his unoccupied hand.
"Quite right! My apologies lady!" Diego Rises swayingly from his chair (again, his friends KNOW he not that drunk. Yet.) and sweeps his plumed hat from his head into a half-bow."The name is Thanos. Emiliano Thanos, at your shervish." Diego slurs, replaces the wide-brimmed hat on his head with a flourish and plops back into his seat. Again, somehow managing not to spill a drop of his tankard's precious liquid.
Thaddeus, though, narrows his eyes at the disparagement of the uniform. ”These are the uniforms of the House Guard of the Cardinal of Westcrown. By impugning them, you impugn the Guard. By impugning the Guard, by extension, you impugn the office. And by extension, the Church. And by extension, the Crown. And further, Asmodeus himself. Consider yourself educated.”
Diego holds up his fingers, one at a time, as Thaddeus pontificates. When he has to release his cup to start on the next hand he looks baffled. (Whether because he is not used to counting so high, or why there is no longer a drink in his grip is unclear.)
"I've lost count as well. Seems even we Countryside Nobles can only be educated so much." He says with exaggerated sadness to his friends around the table.
Wait, Impugn? I could have sworn I was complimenting them uniforms. Truly." Diego earnestly tells his table-mates with wide-eyed innocence.
Domenico smiles, though it does not touch his eyes, and says thoughtfully, "You said that it was a good thing that you're leaving, and I must give compliments to your wisdom on that assertion!" He rests a hand idly on his own hip near his blade and continues on, while the other hand plays with a coin, speaking now more to Thaddeus, though not speaking in his direction directly. "But a man with so much to say on the station of others tends to be, what do they say?" He flips his coin idly, only affording a quick glance to see the result.
"Insecure in his own." He slips his coin away and takes a drink, "I would advise the gentleman to be cautious when speaking ill of others, so that they do not get a wrong impression of him." He rises and adds so that his meaning could not be clearer, looking directly at Thaddeus now with a challenging expression, "And so that the gentleman does not find himself on the wrong end of a blade."
Theo's hackles were indeed rising, though he calms somewhat at Diego's suggestion, instead muttering something about it being in his nature to kill birds when his friend mentions peacock is not on the menu.
When the talk of impugning and extensions comes up Theo nods at Cambino's question "Indeed, it seems an impugnee must be an astute mathematician to keep track... three were explicitly stated as extensions, and I believe two more were implied, that would make the count five extensions, and with the original impugning it would be six altogether." He looks up to Diego's wide-eyed innocence "Are you sure friend? Maybe you should consider switching to impugning. Your compliments would seem to have fallen on deaf ears, yet you're surprisingly efficient at impugning."
A slow smile creeps across Thaddeus' face as the Guards rise. "And do you gentlemen presume to teach me manners? All at once, or one at a time?" His eyes glint as he rests his hand on the pommel of his blade.
Ippolito rushes forward as his other patrons set down their utensils and prepare to leave, wringing his hands in distress.
"Gentlemen, please, this is a peaceful dining and drinking establishment. I am not a rich man and cannot afford to... besides, the dottari may be around at any time. It would be a disgrace for gentry to be arrested for brawling like common stevedores."
Thaddeus glares at Ippolito now, but the woman sets a restraining right hand on his arm. "Peace, Thaddius, the publican has a point."
She steps forward one pace towards the Guard. "My name is Arabela Mola of the Cardinal's Guard, and we are all at your disposal for etiquette lessons -- now, if you like, or at a time more convenient to you."
One of the women in the group behind Thaddeus pipes up. "There are several deserted warehouses in the area, with empty yards on quiet streets that might suit as a schoolhouse."
Thaddeus snorts in derision. "I am certain these gentlemen are busy, and probably will be whenever our schedules are open."
When the talk of impugning and extensions comes up Theo nods at Cambino's question "Indeed, it seems an impugnee must be an astute mathematician to keep track... three were explicitly stated as extensions, and I believe two more were implied, that would make the count five extensions, and with the original impugning it would be six altogether." He looks up to Diego's wide-eyed innocence "Are you sure friend? Maybe you should consider switching to impugning. Your compliments would seem to have fallen on deaf ears, yet you're surprisingly efficient at impugning."
Diego shrugs modestly.
"What can I say? It's a gift!" The dandy grins at Theo.
She steps forward one pace towards the Guard. "My name is Arabela Mola of the Cardinal's Guard, and we are all at your disposal for etiquette lessons -- now, if you like, or at a time more convenient to you."One of the women in the group behind Thaddeus pipes up. "There are several deserted warehouses in the area, with empty yards on quiet streets that might suit as a schoolhouse."
Thaddeus snorts in derision. "I am certain these gentlemen are busy, and probably will be whenever our schedules are open."
"Not at all sir! I, for one, am NEVER too busy to aid in the education of Etiquette to the less- fortunate!" Diego declares, standing swayingly up to join the others.
"IF your feeling up to it of course. You do seem to be a little unsteady on your feet sir!" Diego adds, peering at Thaddeus at a distinctly tipsy angle.
Marea's gentle sigh of resignation is lost amid the scuffle of boots and chairs as the two groups size each other up.
Vittorio laughs, his voice dripping with false warmth, "No fear, Thaddeus. We lowly folk will always make time for someone as important as yourself."
Thaddeus slaps his gloves into his palm several times as he sizes up the Grulios Guards at the table, then draws them on briskly. "Excellent."
He crosses the room and opens the street door, holding it for his friends, who file through. "Anyone care to join us?"
"We'd best hurry, Emilios Thanos and friends, if you care to join us for a stroll. The dottari might suspect such a large group of mischief, if you can believe it." Arabela's dispassionate voice floats back through the door from the dimness of the street beyond, "Don't stand there all night, Thaddeus. If they do not care to join the party, you can always call on them later."
Diego barks a laugh, snatches up his hat from the table and settles it on his head at a rakish angle.
"Well lads. I feel like making some mischief!" He grins at his fellows, and swaggers for the doorway, tying his now-empty mug to his belt.
Vittorio smirks and waves dismissively, "Yes, Thaddeus, run along and listen to mother. We'll be along shortly to clean the nappy your wearing under that... most lovely uniform."
Thaddeus, at least, seems enough of a hot head that taunting may push him off-balance... Sadly, the same is not true of Arabella...
He shares his head then chuckles at situation, "Aye, Diego, I think we've already made something a little stronger..."
Diego waves at Vittorio dismissively, blowing a raspberry.
"Nah. YOU worry too much old man! THIS is just,... a little light entertainment!" Diego rubs his hands together gleefully.
Domenico nods to Thaddeus and says, "We'll be right over." But when the Cardinal's Guard exits the establishment, Domenico says, "I've always said that etiquette and swordplay can be remarkably similar!" He's never said that. "Either way, these rubes need to be treated to a lesson in both."
He picks up his things and starts out towards the night air.
Domenico nods to Thaddeus and says, "We'll be right over." But when the Cardinal's Guard exits the establishment, Domenico says, "I've always said that etiquette and swordplay can be remarkably similar!" He's never said that. "Either way, these rubes need to be treated to a lesson in both."
He picks up his things and starts out towards the night air.
Diego Laughs broadly.
"How fortunate they decided to pick a tavern that hosts such excellent educators then!" Diego calls back to Dom.
Vittorio waves his hand toward the door, "Can't argue with that... We really should charge for these sorts of etiquette lessons...". He throws his cloak over his shoulder, then nods to the stage, "We'll be right back," and follows Dom out into the darkness.