By the time he settles into a chair, his excitement is growing palpable.
"I've been invited to a gathering thrown by Rouchardon Ilaire at the Three Spears tonight, What have you heard of him?" Delroy may have wanted to lead into the news gradually, but in trying, well…
For a moment anger and simmering resentment mar his features, but he gets them under control. "Apologies. Too much of my father in me. He's never gotten over the accident of his birth order. Always angry about something...heh, and she named him Tranquilo. A joke at best given how he's turned out."
He suddenly realizes that maybe he shouldn't be spilling all these things to you, and sheepishly scratches at the back of his neck.
"By WHO?! Del, how did...no, don't tell me it will just worry me. Delroy Callidus if you go to that party...I don't even...ugh, that man gives every legitimate Orchomene the worst reputation! What good is reasoning and life experience for understanding when everyone thinks you're just in it for the debaucherous parties?"
Realizing that perhaps she may be yelling just a tad, Gwenn sits back down forcibly and crosses her arms tightly. You can't help but notice the way it pulls her tunic, but she gets in your face soon enough that you don't have time to let your young, enflamed mind wander. "Rouchardon Ilaire has few morals at best, and all of them are directly related to his business dealings. You've been invited to one of his rather infamous debauched parties. I shouldn't wonder that wine and gluttony and scandalous entertainments aplenty should be there. The Three Spears has a reputation to uphold, after all." The last line is biting, acerbic, and annoyed to be certain. She rolls her eyes and asks "Did he tell you how you'll be enjoying the evening? He fancies himself a noble in his own mind, he'll want to follow one of their labyrinthine arrangements I'm sure."
Natalia is startled by Luigi's outburst. her hands flutter aimlessly in the air, wanting to strech forth and confort him, but afraid to reach out.
'...I've upset him...I never would have guessed the pressure upon him...his pressure to live up to his name, without a way to do so...whilest I have no expectations to live up to at all from my disappointed relatives...how I wish I could support him, somehow...'
"Please, don't give it another thought. If you must vent your ire, it is the least I can do to listen after all you've done for me... er, us." Natalia fumbles with words, trying to find the ones she wants to say, but only coming up with dross (to her ears).
"If you have need again to rail against your fate, I will gladly listen to your outrage."
'...at least then I'll get to have you near me again...'
She seems to vacillate between distraught over the idea of the potential problems of such an evening and the potential for rooting out...well, everything the two of you like to root out.
"Del, if he was trying to bribe you, wouldn't he just do it directly? Why go through all the trouble and expense of doing it this way? ...Hm. Were you working alone? Or were there others? Did he invite them too? Were any of them Noble? He might be gathering allies for something, it's happened before when the Guilds weren't so kind to each other.
"And who's to say I have any authority over what you do, Delroy Callidus? You're a man, you can make your own decisions. It's not up to me whether you take a good opportunity to schmooze with the very people that are most likely to be in need of your services...or need your mystical boot in their noggins. You'd better tell me what you find, or I'll hunt you down and tickle torture you until I get it."
"Tomorrow evening?" Natalia says in surprise. "I would love to... no, wait."
Her elated form slumps a bit in dejection.
"I'm sorry. As much as I wish to, I have another appointment of sorts tomorrow evening."
She sighs deeply. "I and my companions had just finished up a mission for various Houses and Guilds, and they wish to thank us. Madonna Rosza is the only other noble present in our cohort, and I feel she wants me to be there with her."
"And it is something I should attend. Other mysteries raised their head besides this one I pursued here, and I should see if any clues get dropped there, or any other missions are handed out."
Her face drooped low over her chest, and her voice is choked with disappointment.
"If it were not for this business, I would have truely wished to spend the time with you."
[Spoiler=May I keep the towel on?]"So what did you mean by"[/b] He lifts a hand, waggling the no-no finger. ""Delroy Callidus, of you go to that party…" I had thought you meant I would have to answer to you… I guess that means in a way that I do?" Delroy snorts, giving Gwenn a shove in the arm. "If so then I will enjoy the bath. As will my Noble Associates, Ladies Natalia Ivanova and Rosza Juette de Vieuxpont as well as a warrior of Zhonghue. I wonder if his interest in our Phelan is less than professional?" Delroy shrugs a little, "I am afraid it would do you a disservice if I did [b]not go."[b]
He leans back, taking in the sights once more, and is silent for a time, seemingly content to listen to the sounds of the lively city...which are soon enough overridden by the sound of your professors arguing about some painting or other as they exit the room full of treasures.
Luigi seems hesitant for a second, biting his lower lip, and takes his cup and downs the rest of it in a hurry before turning to you once more. "Madonna Natalia, I believe it is time I show my guests out before Nonna comes back to an argument of silly proportions. Though if you wish to stay..."
[/spoiler]
She's frowning, and has certainly decided she was right about you once again, but the edge to her expression is, as always, soft...not quite as soft as usual this time though.
This happens every time I get 'clever'.
"I'm sorry, but I should return with them," Natalia regretfully replies. "If I do not, they may stand in some street and hold forth learned discussions for the benifit of the wastrels and robbers."
"Besides, your honour may suffer should you keep a strange woman with you late into the night," she adds jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.
Eamonn is waiting for you with another drink and a clap on the back. You're pretty sure he joined in your howl. "And if that weren't the goblin dancing on the hill! You've gotten better friend, I was sure he was going to set ye wailing like a wee babby! ...Aw don't gimme that look, ye know ah mean well ya git! C'mon then, let's leave before they decide to ban ye for being too skillful. I got something ta show ye anyway."
Assuming you comply Eamonn allows you a minute or two to bask in your earned glory before tugging you back upstairs and out the back door. You're heading closer to New Town, which means less squalor and slightly less out rid smells. After a few minutes, you've arrived at a boarding house of dilapidated, slightly rotting wood. A ramshackle place hastily thrown together to capitalize on the laxness of building laws around these parts. Apparently Eamonn keeps a room here, and once you're in it he shuts the door and roots around for something...and pulls from behind a tiny desk a box, and from that box he lifts a braided leather collar.
"Ah know what ye're goin' ta say, ye didn't earn it proper, ye don't have the honor, yach yach. Well that's lizard leavins friend. Ye survived in the pits and ye just defeated one of our most tenacious enemies. Ye even let that rabbit be submitted ta justice...even if it was a stupid foreign justice. And if ye needed a witness, let ye not forget what I am, eh? If anyone deserves this collar, it's yew."
He doesn't shut the door until you're out of sight.
Natalia departs almost reluctantly.
"Adeiu, may your dreams be sweet ones too," she answers, before catching up with the professors (but not without several looks back to wave to Luigi again).
Once she manages to return to the Academy, she bids the scholars farewell, and returns to her room. Setting aside all the things she had been toting around that day, she comes upon the wax-sealed scroll in her bag.
Peering at the seal, she then opens it and reads...
Dearest Daughter, I pray this missive finds you in good health. The mice have been cycling through some new illness in phases, but it seems under control for now.
But that is not why I write you this day. As your mother it has pained me to see you go so far from our towers, and every day I look into new lore and old to see if the Light may be merciful and bring us a way to solve your predicament and bring you back to us hale and hearty as I know you would be without such a weight bearing down your spirit.
As it happens, I must confess something that I fear will become public knowledge soon enough...or known at least to the law of Triskellian, and by then it will be too late to correct. You see, your father and I have been looking into potion-craft of a sort that is not looked upon kindly. You remember the legend of Kamden and the Viper, and we have learnt recently that there was more truth to such a story than common wisdom holds.
The trouble then is that we had hoped to keep things quiet, but the risks of such an avenue have caught up to us, and the rigors of the road have let our cargo fall by the wayside. If thou wish is to see this course through, then seek out the colorful sails of Zhongguo and speak to one bearing this symbol. It is through him that we found a way at all, and perhaps his ships yet sail further on from our shores and stop in the city that has so ensconced you.
I'm dreadfully sorry I haven't kept you informed, but I felt that should none of our avenues prove fruitful it would prove to harsh to bear if you knew. But now it seems that if we wish you well, it must be in your hands.
Yours always, Mother.
So, translating from noble doublespeak and contrived veil-talk: Your parents were looking into illegal foreign alchemy (which is reputed to be capable of quite a number of things unknown to Calabrian equivalents) in an attempt to "grow" you, and tried to avoid letting anyone know, which probably means tariff-dodging...which means it might have been on one of those shipments Cedric stole, your House had some unmarked things in those manifests after all, but now that it's been lost they're directing you to that Zhonggese foreign district in the Docks to search out on your own.
Lovely. They've concern enough to make the attempt, but not enough to do it the safe way because appearances are too important.
Delry then slumped back in his chosen seat, shaking his head, "I will probably embarrass myself, Gwenn… Though I am much braver with my clever words around friends. Those I took the job with will likely encourage my basal urges, so perhaps Mother Agnella might be on watch to rescue me as a concerned stranger… I will soon learn just what sort of new friends I have made."
But worth it.
"See you later, Gwenn. Tell the Abbot it was my fault!" He started shuffling through the halls at his own pace, slower then Gwenn can go. [b]"Don't have to wait for me this time, you can make it."[b]
After reading the letter, Natalia hid it somewhere she hoped was safe.
Changing into her night clothes and braiding up her hair for sleep, she reflected on her busy day, and the promise of an even busier day to come.
Hoping for the beautiful dreams wished to her, she makes her usual nighttime maneuver, and wrapping her arms about her, went to sleep hanging from the rafters like any proper bat.
"Depardieu! Guillaume? Thou dost blame the potatoes on moi? Thou knowest full well I need thee to look after me! I can accomplish nothing without thy support!" Rosza clasps her breast and staggers over to fall onto the bed, the very picture of theatrical betrayal.
"And to think, my father and my uncle trust thee with my well-being. Those potatoes could've been assassins!" The ermine is entirely too jocular for even the most innocent bystander to take her behavior seriously. She squints at the pictograms. "Hm. Well. 'Tis the soup for these vagrants! At least if they - and we - are lucky. Goodwoman Acerbi's cook tends to overcook them a touch for my tastes when he is a-roasting."
The ermine extracts the small clinking pouch from her buff coat and lobs it overhand towards Guillaume. "Look after that for me, hmmmm? Away from the card table, merci!" She engages in a careful and detailed inspection of the dueling set, carefully unpinning and testing the lock-springs and then guardedly checking the wheels' contact with the pyrites, particularly prudent not to spill sparks on the bedding. "Lovely. T'weren't left at half-cock up on the mantel, mercifully. The locks are tuned sweetly. If they fire true...Mais non, I shall have to thank Didier for the work on them." She sighs, levelling one of the long-barreled weapons and sighting down it as she weighs the balance of it in her hand. "S'Allumer's Light, why ever did I begin by insisting I'd have them back in timely fashion instead of first trying to wheedle him without such a promise? P'raps I can ask him about their indefinite loan later." Rosza reassembles the pistols, wrapping the floppy cuff of her glove over the butt of her knife before using it to gently tap the staying pins home again, so as to be sure not to mar them in any fashion.
"On a less self-indulgent note, my friend, we are gifted with a surfeit of directions we may currently take." She tugs the pistol's case near once more, plucking out and replacing the (empty) powder flask and then the (full) tin of molded balls after extracting several. "On dear Oncle's tail-chasing side some number of booksellers to investigate, perchance to apprehend or subvert should we catch them in possession of the goods entrusted to Cedric -- and of course that lovely letter of dismissal bestowed 'pon the hare by his arms-dealing employer." Rosza compares the dull spheroids critically, rolling them between her palms before selecting two and tugging her own utilitarian (full) powder flask from her belt. She begins to carefully load the brace, observing "Needs must roll some cartridges for these...just in case. I do hope the Madonna Ivanova did not become possessed of some urge to place that letter in Iliare's hands without further investigation."
She loosens her belt slightly, extracting her own pistol from within the flap of her buff coat, then carefully arranging the brace deeper in, so the pair of ornate pistols are so deep within her coat that they lie butt-first one behind the other over her left hip...fully concealed but also harder to draw... then stuffing her own pistol in its usual place diagonally across her belly with the butt protruding from her coat flap. Rosza stretches, then stands and sits quickly before loosening her swordbelt another notch. "Alas, my girlish figure! We should begin with that letter, methinks. It might be best to hand it to our new business associate before he has much opportunity to interrogate Cedric and decide we withheld it deliberately. Doubtless he will not be fooled, but if we observe the proprieties we may neither injure nor offend his trust."
The ermine stands, stretches, and twists back and forth a few times, assuring herself of the security of her latest accessories before leering teasingly when she catches Guillaume watching. "Dunwasser College, then!"
Rosza tilts her hat rakishly, "Just imagine how delighted the Madonna Ivanova will be to see thee at this early hour!"
"Of course Abbot Lineaus. I would love to see some of my instructors and tell them what I have been up to since I left. Can you direct me to where they are at the moment, or should I begin my search? Javiera asked, waving to Delroy as he left. "He is a pleasant fellow, a lot of potential if he continues to walk the just path."
The Three Spears Inn crests the hilltop that marks the highest point of Triskellian, a short steep rise from the long plateau of the Market piazza. Nearby is the northernmost gate of the city exiting onto the Via Salutis, and rising even higher than the Inn to the southeast is the College of Dunwasser. Is their proximity intentional? Perhaps, but no student could afford the Three Spears unless they were from money.
The Inn itself is two stone buildings and a wooden stable off to the northeast. The central building is the Inn, a wide structure who's stones have been painted over in plaster to prevent weathering of the mortar and painted in designs of whatever is most fashionable at the time. The regular, even rainfall eventually washes the designs away, and new ones can be put up. The second story is wider than the below, supported not by wooden struts as might be common in Harrowgate or Thanon or Bruges, but stone buttresses and arches in the style of the Don's palace and similarly aged structures. Local greenery and an explosion of flowers add color and life to the place.
The southernmost building in the group is the bath-house, a single story building of the same materials and decoration that wraps about the back of the Inn in an L shape, which also serves to hide the main part of the bath-house from the thoroughfare while leaving the technologically advanced pump rooms on display to passerby. Somewhat backwards to some, but it keeps the customers happy.
Judging by the number of carriages stopping, going, and generally moving about (yours included), this is quite the party with a larger number of guests than you'd anticipated. How can all of them fit in the bath-house without the whole thing becoming a mess of liquid fur?
While no walls keep rabble away, the combination of regular Constabulary patrols, hired bravos of the nobility and nouveau riche, and the sheer aura of the place tend to keep the peace. That, and the heavy banners adorning the three "spear" flagpoles in the carriage way out front proclaiming tonight's fête to be private, invitation only, and hosted by Rouchàrdon Ilaire...all in Magniloquentia of course. For everyone that can't read it and doesn't already know the deal, there's a giant ox doorman standing well over 20 hands high.
He stands aside as soon as you arrive, presumably having been forewarned of the arrival of a motley group of such...colorful persuasions lead by two nobility. He cocks an eye at the varied dress styles, but says nothing, and you're pretty sure he shrugs and pulls out a flask as the last of you enters the Inn.
Inside the place is reinforced with polished hardwoods, bedecked with streamers and tapestries that other inns would find extravagant, if not outright opulent, and the "three spears" motif appears just about everywhere in a variety of places and types and styles. Advertisement? Or just an overenthusiastic decorator? Nevertheless the dog footman waiting inside takes cloaks, the two cats after him take weapons (save eating knives and such), and the cheetah hostess awaits at the end of the foyer to show you in to the gathering room. "Common room" is just too...common for such upper crust folks.
Within the confines of the coach, Rosza is even more frenetically predisposed than she was on the return trip from Harrowgate. She also very nearly will NOT shut up. Fortunately, she has to breathe, although S'Allumer seems to've gifted her with more lung power than might be desired by those around her.
That's somewhat on par for the ermine of course, the problem is that this time, instead of fussing about a bunch of paper, she's fussing about everyone else's appearance and manner of appearance. "No-one left aught at home, one hopes. I know not all the dettagli of fashion that the Madonna Rareté does...And 'tis exactly why we must nowt trifle with any little details."
"As this is a social event, there are some delicate propriétés to consider, and if 'twere not blindingly obvious to any, appearance matters as much as reality this night. That includes little social niceties such as order, and as none can be expected to know our position, we become summat of a rogue card in the table's center, and a potential source of power to any who might play off it...Something to covet but also to beware." The ermine indulges one of her less genteel nervous habits, idly drawing and checking a pistol. And then another pistol. A matched, graven and gold-chased dueling set that she certainly hasn't shown off before. "I intend us to be taken for at least an Ace, albeit p'raps an ill-matched one. So a point of order as we arrive or if we move room to room as a group, the outlanders move first...No disrespect, miei più cari compagni! ...Then les lames de ecclésiastiques, and lastly the Madonna Ivanova and myself."
Rosza Juette cracks open a flash-pan whose steel cover is carven with fleshy orchids, checking the powder charge beneath before sliding the cover shut again and stuffing the long weapons back beneath one of her broad belts. "Shouldst ye all nowt go haring off immediately...And ye shouldst nowt...Then 'tis customary for those of lesser station to introduce those of greater, and in most of Calabria for the males to introduce the ladies...For which I should like to rely 'pon your indulgence, Messer Callidus." She actually extends her open hand and leans over it in a hint of a seated bow. "To muddle the soup summat, and as the Madonna Ka-win's station will be a great uncertainty to many, I should like you to introduce her as well. Ye'll have all noted that the nobility come latest, and again I should like ye to introduce Ka-win with the most pomp, and Madonna Ivanova before her...And me before dear Natalia. Ye've heard my titles before...Rush them, as if I were the one whom ye worried least about offending. Increase your apparent air of respect more for the Madonna Ivanova, and if you can even look a touch nervous about how you introduce our Zhonggan noble, all the better. I shall be blatantly dangerous...And thus this behavior will suggest the less materially obvious talents of the other Ladies to be truly staggering." She dips her head to Natalia and Quinn, "Which is as it should be, of course."
"For the other raffinéments...Try to keep surprise from your faces, regardless of who or what happens. We do lack the manners of the high court of Triskellian, but we're surely not here to be the high court of Triskellian. With this crowd, Ilaire is showing off who he knows. We're not civil and prettified enough to be a feather in his cap -- not 'mongst the heraldry on the coaches ahead of us..." Rosza gestures airily out the window, "And that means we're a blade ready to his hand. If someone or something tries your aplomb, remember that."
"Remember, too, that all blades stay sheathed tonight. No matter what challenge might be given or how grievous an offense might be taken, it shall be resolved at earliest on the morrow. Best if it involves us nowt at all." The ermine doesn't look at Ceallach as she says this. The ermine palpably doesn't look at Ceallach as she says this.
"Watch for others who seem to be of your station, take your cue from them if ye can. If ye misdoubt your situation, err on the side of respectfulness but look politely confused, so if ye're not respectful enough ye will be thought merely unsure of th'proper address, and if ye're lavishing fine butter on hardtack 'twill perchance be believed a jest."
"If trouble finds ye, flag me or the Madonna Ivanova with thumb crossed over palm, 'lessen 'tis no matter of social standing which a noble may resolve, in which case flag whoe'er ye may and we'll pass the signal abowt. We like as not shan't rush over immediately...But we'll know there's a problem and be figuring how to solve it." She frowns. "If our host is clever, he'll act to prevent problems. Unless he's so clever he intends to start them..." Her eyes unfocus a moment. "We'll take the hand we're dealt should that happen."
"Think twice afore committing your words to aught, be dismissive of your own station...'Tis a thing ye take for granted." The ermine winks impishly at Delroy, "However new-mint it maught be."
"If ye've still time after all that, have fun. Rumour has it 'tis what we're here for." The ermine nods, as if to herself, then grins tightly.
The worst has finally come to pass: not only have his companions finally dressed him in clothes, but it is frippery!
Ceallach sits within the coach fervently wishing he was not dressed in strange foreign garb. He must admit, it is a nice red, much like fire, but he would prefer to be garbed in the colors of the earth: brown, green, blue, and gray.
He does his best to follow Rosza's rapid-fire lecture, but his eyes begin to cross far, far before she has even begun to finish. He shakes his head rapidly, trying to regain sense.
"You people have too many rules! Why would anybody try to live by such foolish rules in the first place?!" He lets loose a guttural sigh, in deep exasperation.
Javiera felt a little bad for Ceallach. From the way she'd seen him act, dealing with high society in any way that didn't involve punching them in the face didn't seem like it would be fun for the wolf. Granted, from what she heard about this kind of event, she thought she might be as useful as a armorer's hammer in a dress shop.
Speaking of dresses, the final alterations to the green dress that had been fashioned for her seemed to be on the more risque side of prudent. She didn't think such a thing possible, but they had pulled it off. Granted, she'd rather be wearing her sword and armor, but that didn't seem possible. At least she got to keep her dagger, and her holy symbol. That might dissuade a few gents, or incite a few more.
"No dueling? Shame." She said, as she figited in her seat. "I will do my best."
Delroy let out a sigh as he gazed through the Coach's windows to see what lies without. A day dream had taken him, up until the very living moment he heard Rosza's voice call "Messer Callidus". A daydream startled enough to spook the lad and cause him to jerk his elbow in toward his chest, which in turn made him drop his head like a brick. "Whot?" A quick stammer later (Avoiding an obvious and low class curse) and Delroy has mostly recovered from his early errors of judgement and language. "If you all might give me a fresh reminder of your titles, I would be most honestly appreciative." The 'coon bows forward just a little bit, offering further obsequiations per moment, it would seem! "Of Each of you, that I may make no mistake?" He never asked Rosza, as he could hardly allow himself to forget her introductions. Perhaps just to avoid the social shame? A glance to each of his new friends gave Delroy's position away readily. He was not ready… But he could try. The 'coon nodded, mostly as assurance to himself, "I am sure your rules would be as strange to me as ours are to you, Caellach. I would like to find out some time."
Of course he says this as he sits resplendent in his new frippery, A catching Autumn red slashed shirt, lined in wheat hued satin and trimmed in goldenrod brocade, paired with matching pantaloons, gathered at the knee, and accented by tall laced boots. Topping it all off is a new feather in that damndable gray hat of his, a tall pumpkin colored plume, pinned to the crown by part of the brim, which has been folded stylishly just so.
"Ceallach, do not fret overmuch, most sensable folk will not trouble you. We will be nearby in case there is a need."
Natalia reflects that she might have to stay near at hand to Ceallach for his safety. Still, there were worse things to do at parties.
'...such as being overlooked...' the voice in her head painfully reminds her.
Her own dress was to her satisfaction, a deep dark frilly velvet, with white lace in just the proper locations.
"I...will try to concentrate. My claws have already tasted Screeberagh blood this night. I won't be looking for a fight."
He nervously fingers the collar Eamonn gave him. He had flatly refused to remove it, and now it was his only source of comfort.
"And the red does look well upon you, so the only fights you might have to deal with is those ladies that wish to trist off with you, Ceallach."
"Dearest Javiera, the green really does suit you, and sets off your natural beauty. I still think that a ornament of silver and jade in your hair would complement your dress, but I will allow your holy symbol does just as well."
"And Delroy, you look resplendent in your finery. Those colors are just right for you. One might say you clean up well enough to be in danger of ladies yourself."
The hostess smiles politely, showing just enough fang to ride the edge of propriety. Madonna de Vieuxpont, Ivanova, and your entourage, I welcome you to the Three Spears and the festivities provided here by Maître Rouchárdon Ilaire. By his generosity we offer entertainments, wines, and refreshments as you desire, and of course the entire bathhouse has been reserved for the later courses and post-meal enjoyments."[/b] Her smile doesn't change, but her posture becomes more welcoming and open once the little speech is done with. She offers a curtsy and turns to open the heavy oaken doors...
And a riot of colors and sounds assaults your ears, eyes, and noses! The furniture has all been arranged in such a way that the multifarious entertainers may pass unhindered between the dining tables, and all may see the stage that plays host to finely clad (for entertainers roving) minstrels and acrobats and jugglers. The room itself is done in the same polished woods of the foyer, though of noticeably finer grain and darker colors. It could be a varnish, but with patronage of such status it's more likely a fine import. The lights are wrought of steel in organic patterns and painted in deep greens, though this night they've been ornamented with gayly dyed ribbons, and gathered silk cloths in matching gaudiness hang from the railings of the upper floor, embroidered in the crests of...well, you recognize the Four Corners Coster symbol, and can presume that most of the others are the other businsses the Ilaire family owns.
The service, while not as immaculately dressed as those of the powerful Houses, are attired in fashionable doublets, tunics, pantaloons, and dresses. Perhaps the "classic" part of the evening begins in the bathhouse?
The hostess, clad herself in a floor length white velvet gown that hugs her curves, leads you to the edge of the stage most visible by the room and curtsies to the assembled, pulling forward perhaps by pure luck Delroy to make announcements.
The room stills, and the weight of a hundred eyes settles upon six doughty adventurers...but mostly one young raccoon right now.
Hearing Natalia's praise, even if someone else had picked the outfit that had earned the kind words, steeled Delroy noticeably, "You'll send me to blushing before the main event, and then where would I be?"
He straightened out the rumpled bits of clothing, rolling his shoulders to gets it all settled naturally. The doors of the Coach opened…
He did not like the Hostess. More correctly, he was scared of that one. That look of hers was quite unnerving.
Light. Colors. Scents. (Perfume and food and people and whiskey Don't mind if I do…) That damned smile.
Eyes. All of them.
His throat was suddenly parched, but rather than drink the drink he'd picked up on reflex, Delroy forces a dry swallow as he bows; Hat taken and swept back in one hand, the other over his heart, keeping the whiskey level with clockwork accuracy.
"Lords and Ladies." Delroy rises from his obsequiations, "Tonight, I present from the Northern Forests, Ceallach Mac Seitheach. I also have the proud task of introducing Javiera, Right Hand of s'Allumer. Paladin of the Light and beacon in the darkness." Delroy gestured to each in turn, so they might be recognized.
"I am also privileged to introduce" He lifted a hand, gesturing toward his Ermine Accomplice, "Rosza Juette de Vieuxpont Lissemanteau, Écuyere d'épée, daughter of Léon de Vieuxpont, le Comte de Baudin" Scandalously, about three quarters through the first ve=ieuxpont, Delroy's tone flattened just a little bit (Such a chore!), there was soon after a subtle circular motion of his free hand (… And on and on…), The one with the glass was pointed to Rosza even as he inhaled from the effort of enunciating that all properly on the power of one breath. His gaze flicked to Rosza's, Daredevil's eyes. 'I don't know what I'm doing but I'm on a roll!' He seemed to calm a bit.
A slight fraction of ease washing over him though perhaps lost to notice amid his rather dramatic turn to extend his hand, sinking to a knee before the Bat, as he says "And now Madonna Natalia Ivanova, Abroad from her home in the Bisclavret Territories. A star fallen from North to dazzle us." The hand held to Natalia had just the tip of his thumb folded in. Just for a moment. After she took it (By the light I hope she takes it…), Delroy rose, handed Rosza his whiskey almost absently, turned three quarters away from lanky Lady Lissemanteau, standing to fully face Quinn, he then bowed in the manner he had seen the Zhonguese greet each-other, "I can not express the honor in being lucky enough to present to you, on her first visit to Calabria, Kuin of House Hiriderin." He had been doing so well. He may not have mangled Quinn's name, but he said it no better than any proudly learned mind might accomplish on a first honest attempt to get it right.
In fact, he really tried. He tried like he did not want a beating.
"May I finally welcome you to Calabria in a manner suited to your station."
Before leaving the coach, Rosza does go over introductions with Delroy, and as a last response to Ceallach, murmurs, "Somehow, warlike as you are, one imagines your people have customs to secure neutral ground, give respect to those as deserve it, and ensure such ground remains safe with fights set aside 'til a proper time -- so no hot-blooded young warrior feels insulted by a wise but blunt elder and interrupts them. All this is the same, perhaps a touch more complicated with the times and the uncertainty of who deserves what degree of respect from whom..."
Amidst the intense reds and greens worn by much of the party, the darker tones of Natalia's velvets stands out along with Rosza's own. The ermine's, however, has a slight blue cast to it, the hint of blue abetted by ribbons and puffed slashes of a pewtery gray-blue which gives her sharp eyes a cooler, more wintery look than their usual azure.
Intent on elaborating some fine point regarding a relationship between the Houses Repense and Lissemanteau several generations ago, Rosza slowly drops back from the small group's 'advance guard', perforce keeping Natalia with her as well by means conversational. As a result, there's a brief pause and a slight gap in the arrivals between the disarming of the paladin, witch-hunter, tigress and Phelan, and the moment when Rosza suddenly sweeps forward into that gap, doffing her long, dark-blue cloak to reveal hips girded much more for the High-way than the banquet hall. The heavily-armed ermine appears unaware of the sudden scene she makes, continuing to chat with Natalia without even looking at the two cats as her hat and cloak are taken.
However, she is quite certainly aware of them, demonstrated when she slides her scabbarded rapier from its hanger, and unhooks the sheath of her main gauche as well, pressing each into the hands of one of the cats without looking directly at him. Almost immediately thereafter the ermine tugs the two gold-chased pistols from her sash -- holding them around the locks rather than by their somewhat straight stocks -- and hands them off to the other cat.
And that produces what could be a momentarily flustering problem, as in the next instant the ermine has drawn a far more utilitarian looking pistol from one hip-high bucket-top boot...Its cuff exposed by the almost scandalously high-sided cut of her long asymmetric skirt...And there is no fifth feline paw to press the weapon into! The situation doesn't last for long, certainly, but it's long enough for her to become clearly distracted from her conversation and glance about as if puzzled by the lack of another servant on hand, and of course during that brief interval any observers are treated to the sight of the young ermine idly standing in the foyer of the inn, wheel-lock dangling casually in hand as she waits for the two arms-checkers to carefully set aside her other weapons.
Rosza Juette ceases her conversation with Natalia as the cheetah hostess welcomes them, paying attention before nodding regally to the white-clad woman. The ermine glances about with an almost disinterested air as she follows the hostess forward. She briefly flickers a grin at Delroy as he's selected.
The ermine looks faintly smug by the time Delroy returns his gaze to her and hands her his drink. There's the slightest hint in that almost-smirk of a pleased teacher regarding a successful pupil, but it's doubtful anyone not in the party would read that correctly. However, she does seem to have quirked her brow quizzically at him. Did he forget someone? But who?
Word is liable to get around to some ears, almost certainly Rouchardon Ilaire's, at least, and likely most of the inn's staff, that the last pistol has been discharged recently enough to still smell of burnt sulphur...At least within the last half-day...And that all three wheel-locks are, indeed, loaded (although the wheels aren't ratcheted to cock).
Natalia hung back with Rosza at the entrance. She had always enjoyed the ermine's entrances, and the artistry Rosza used. While being calm on the outside, she wanted to applaud Rosza's handling of the doormen.
For her part, when the doorman finally finished with Rosza and turned to her with an outstretched hand, she merely gazed at the hand, then turned a quirked eyebrow up at she lifted her head to stare into the doormans face, her displeased demenor plain to see. This attitude of 'how dare you imply that I would carry a weapon' was held until the doorman's hand wilted away and embarressment shone on his face. Then Natalia smiled and followed Rosza in.
She smiled at Delroy's introduction, although inside she was irked by his lack of mention of her noble house, the Repense. That, and the fact that technically, her home was West of Triskellian. Still, it was a good introduction for someone not used to doing such a duty, and she would not fault him overmuch.
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Quinn looked at Calleach at his mention of foolish rules, "Calleach, think of it like a battle, but instead of fighting with blade and claw, one fights with words and impressions. Instead of footwork, posturing. That is the real point of these parties, political combat."
She makes a few final adjustments to her beep red silk dress, with several cuts that show her strips quite well.
When she reaches the armscheckers she rather ceramoniously hands her blades over, correcting them on how to accept the blades from her, speaking somewhat mildly restrained as though trying to have patience.
When Delroy introduces her, she responds first with the appropriate bow in return, then in what fashion Rosza and Natalia had responded to him.
When introduced, Javiera bowed to those who would happen to be looking, she'd learned a little bit of etiquite in her training, enough not to annoy some of the nobles here, though, she was a Paladin. And her duty to the church and honor were important to her, she took her position very seriously, and hopefully no one would cause her to have to draw her dagger in anger tonight.
The assembled personages (Nobles may recognize a party of the Àoreilles rabbits of the Avoirdupois lands, and a pair of the Zvonimir bats, nominal subordinates of the Rinaldi, a large brown bear wearing the arms of Thierry, and a plethora of Guildsfolk) seem content to let Delroy avoid introducing himself, either because they believe he is a servant, or because they've noticed his badge of office and certainly don't want to call attention to themselves! Knowing a Witch Finder is a tenuous thing after all.
More eyes are on the party in toto, roving over the sharp, bright designs, and in two cases nigh-scandalous cut, of your outfits. Quinn gets more attention, perhaps because Delroy introduced her last as befits the most important personage of a party, and perhaps also because she is baring rather more of herself than anyone else in the room. You think you hear and old codger harrumphing about the lax moral attitudes of the times before his neighbor reminds him that the tigress is a foreigner. Ceallach doesn't merit as much notice as usual, his woad being mostly covered up, and he wouldn't be the first "tattooed" warrior bravo a Noble brought to the Three Spears. They probably assume he's a mercenary from Bisclavret lands.
That seems to break the spell, and the noise and conversation resumes with blinding speed. A gaggle of dancing harlequins passes in front of you and seemingly out of their midst your host appears and to greet you. Clad in burgundy silks of a deep (and expensive) color, he is the height of fashion so much that you're not sure he's actually fashionable...yet. Oddly, Rouchardon wears a small masquerade mask over his eyes and upper snout. Perhaps he thinks it makes him dashing? The panther on his arm seems to think so.
"Ah, Madonna de Vieuxpont, dearest of all my friends, white flower of the twilight, how fare you this even? And Madonna Ivanova, wandering star of night, you too, so dear, does this night treat you well? Your shadow seems missing, I wonder if I should have asked you to bring guests? And ah, Lady Hiriderin Kuin was it? A thousand apologies for not recognizing your august personage in the thrill of meting out justice to mine rivals, it shan't happen again!" He bows deeply, stretching out his short cloak (cut in half moons with tiny golden weights) behind him.
He offers more cursory greetings, if not less flowery, to the rest of the party, they being below him in status if not in actual station. "Witch Finder Callidus, your introductions, remarkable. Good Ardent of the Light, I welcome thee. Hopefully you shan't have need to curb any iniquities to night? A jest, I assure thee. And goodman wolf, you look positively dashing in those clothes! I shouldn't think you'll have any trouble at all finding appreciative attention tonight!"
Some of the others look at your group with a mix of jealousy, anger, and pity. Is this a man good to be friends with, or was Rosza's guess more correct?
Once Rouchardon appears, and all eyes remove themselves from Delroy, the 'coon lets out an almost sublime sigh. Everything went so well, though he was confused; No one had introduced him.
That was odd? Of course it was.
He dismissed it, however. There was schmoozing to be done.
"I blame the company I keep." was Delroy's answer to the praise given by the Dashing Lion.
It was an old family saying (If not universally Raccoon) that helped explain to Delroy how he got here and why he was getting so much attention: That old nugget of wisdom meant to explain the shenanigans of youth or drink now seemed so appropriate, it had to be shared.
Thus there was an enigmatic grin on Del's face as he spoke.
As the lion bows, "It is forgiven." Quinn returns his bow as would be polite in her homeland.
She then finds herself a glass and wanders around a bit before meeting and greeting a few people. Quinn finds herself rather content at the moment, as the setting is fairly familier, even if everyone spoke some weird language and dressed in way too much cloth.
Ceallach resisted the urge to shiver and wiggle, instead simply giving the same impartial, slightly annoyed looked he'd been wearing since he was forced on stage. "Er...yes. It may happen. I am...trying to look forward to it."
Surprisingly enough, Rouchardon Ilaire has pronounced Quinn's name correctly, and with the correct order as well. Quinn herself seems more at ease than just about anyone in the party, and several people nearly stumble over themselves attempting to meet and greet the foreign tigress that was announced as the most important person in your group.
That takes some of the attention off the rest of you, though the Nobles have definitely taken note of Rosza's presence, and seem a bit ill at ease. Natalia doesn't seem to have made waves. They probably don't know about her Elementalist skills...and most of them are looking straight over the top of her. A number of those "not in the know" seem to have decided that she's a child and safe to ignore already. Woe be unto them!
Rouchardon himself seems to be irrepressible tonight. "The company you keep? Perhaps, but I think you've got something of the wordsmith in you! And don't feel too put out by your own lack of recognition. If you'd been unmarked they would have assumed you a servant, but as it is...well, many amongst the powerful find it a delicate balance to know, but not too well, a Witch Finder."
He flounces a step closer to Ceallach. "And you! Trying to look forward to it? My fine specimen of a wolf, there are already three ladies with a healthy eye on you, I can feel it! Well, perhaps they have their eye on me as well, but I am the host, it is to be expected." The end of his sentence coincides with you noticing said three ladies, all seated together, and their surprised tittering when they notice you noticing them.
Delroy's grin does not fade, "Five among this gathering know me quite well. I am rather fond of them all. Yet, should I leave with a new friend made? I would consider it a blessing, indeed! I thank you for the opportunity. Friends are hard to come by in my line of work. Thus I hold them dear."
With that Delroy offered a bow, and as Ilaire quipped with Caellach, he lets go one of his own "I have seen your females. Be gentle."
As Delroy is finished bragging for his friends, he allowed himself a wandering eye, looking for knots of interesting people to approach. Especially if they were near to the bar.
Mind d8, Observation d6
Natalia sighed inwardly as she observed the lack of interest in herself. Then again, it was to be expected, and even counted upon (at least in Rosza's plans for her). She had been at 'parties' with Rosza before, and finding a use for the neglect shown Natalia always figured into Rosza's plans.
Natalia simply wandered the crowd, looking small and unthreatening, and listening to 'facinating' conversations that took place in front of her as if she was invisible (and to so many here, she was).
Delroy picks out an animated trio of young men (a deer, a ginger cat, and a squirrel) having a conversation with much gesturing and laughing going on. You can't quite make it out over the din (and it is quite a din), but you pick out little bits about business and a "dead-eyed one" the squirrel saw regularly at his apothecary shop. "...always seems...y'know, like he wasn't...yes, exactly like...come off it, the Cognosc..."
Natalia, for her part, picks up quite a bit of chatter amongst the Nobles in the room about "The Tanner," some sort of bogeyman tale from a century back. Seems he murdered nobles that screwed him out of his business, and the broadsheets are all crying about recent sightings.
The various guilds-people, being of many different trades and Guilds, and rational people, scoff. There's a little edge to them too though. Quickly enough however the talk turns to a who's who of intrigues, deceits, and trysts. Underneath the surface talk however you hear snippets of whispered confidences, and they're all wondering about how Cedric put all that contraband into the city without anyone else knowing, and who was backing him because he obviously wasn't very competent on his own. Nothing firm is agreed upon, and nobody seems to know more than you do.
Quinn finds the surge of attention unexpected, but she is fine with it for the moment and makes a concerted effort to remember these people, their spot in the pecking order, and what they do, particularly the more important folks.
Delroy had heard enough to capture his interest, thus he approached the trio's table with a gracious nod, and open arms, "Messers, I do so hate mixing business with pleasure, But may I have a moment of your time?"
Said sirs, who probably don't deserve the title, look at you sidelong, as though wondering how a blonde raccoon suddenly appeared out of thin air. The deer speaks, recovering his poise first as typical for his species. "Ah, sure I guess. You've got a badge there...what you want to know?"