Rudabeh's eyes study the gathered people with both professional and genuine curiosity. The former because she needed to know who she was talking to if there really was an arbitration to be made, the latter because she had certainly never talked face-to-face with a group of self-proclaimed rebels before. It takes a special kind of person to risk everything for the sake of change.
It was difficult to hide her surprise that Alderman Gemus Oskara was sitting right next to her. An observant person might notice the paladin's gaze lingers a bit too long as she attempts to confirm her suspicions, and she blinks a few more times than normal as she considers his remarks at the feast. Complaining about Green Hood's raids was some kind of intentional ploy? I wonder how much was "stolen" and how much "fell off the wagon".
Finally shifting her gaze, she goes over the others in turn, only having significant thoughts about the leader. White dust? Callouses? Perhaps they work with stone? Filters briefly through her mind without any conclusions. The strong aura of chaos around him is unsurprising given the circumstances, and she briefly wonders what the man would say if she told him Irovetti had the same aura.
Pushing the ruminations out of her mind, she listens intently to the man's words. As he finishes talking the paladin reaches up to her helmet, unbuckling the leather chin-strap. Slowly pulling the blood-covered armor off of her head, she reveals her thick black hair, natural oils almost shining in the bizarre magical lighting. The undine's ears unfurl, stretch, and flap once before standing erect on her head as she simultaneously sets her helmet on the table with a gentle hand.
Glancing at the assembled sentients, she hopes her simple gesture projects an aura of trust to the revolutionaries. "As an agent of Alseta, I am a seeker of truth." Rudabeh states simply, hands finding their way back into her lap. "Thus, I am honored you would take such a great risk in meeting me for this purpose. To be honest, Irovetti and I have mostly discussed art. He has not told me much of this kingdom, other than warning me there are rebels and bandits about at night." A small smirk tugs at the edge of her azure lips at the light jest. The paladin was trying to keep her cool now that she was immersed in elements that seemed so much bigger than herself, and the joke made her feel like she was succeeding
She leans back in a creak of wood, gauntlets folding over one another with a shudder of metal on metal. "But please, continue. I am listening."
As Rudabeh leans back the leader moves forward as if to speak, but is cut off by the wiry woman to the paladin's left. Her voice is soft, melodic but untrained, uneducated.
"Why should he tell you anything? You are worthy more to parade around to dinners and art galleries. Do you not see? Simply by standing next to him, by laughing at his jokes, you help him. You cement his rule by giving him..."
She pauses, when the soldier breaks in, his heavy bass voice speaking one word.
"Legitimacy."
"Exactly.." She replies but breaks off when the leader half-rises and raises a hand.
Silence restored, the man goes on, "You see our predicament, paladin. Despite your claims of neutrality, your very presence enforces Irovetti's claim to authority. Your visit puts the weight of the Pact behind a tyrant. And he is a tyrant, make no mistake of that. I am not sure what rumors swirl in the River Kingdoms, but I have seen his violence with my own eyes."
The man turns to the wiry woman who barks a ironic laugh. "Eye."
For some reason the exchange seems to cast a dark cloud over the room. So far Oskara has not spoken.
Rudabeh's head swings from person to person as they speak, taking in their words and concerns. As the dark cloud settles over the exchange, the paladin leans forward, putting her hands on the table and crossing her fingers over one another.
Breathing in softly through her nose, she speaks with the firm confidence of arguing a case in court. "I do see your predicament. You are undecided, as a group, whether or not to share information with me, to even tolerate my presence. To be honest, I had not seen my situation in the way you described. I was merely assigned by Veleda to act as a dignitary at a tournament, and did not think beyond that. So, let us ask each other questions to better understand the situation before you all come to a decision on what to do, be that with me or about me. I ask we all be honest with one another to better facilitate understanding." Her clear blue eyes travel over the assembled group as she speaks, neither judging nor hostile.
"I would like to jump ahead to the end point. What results would you like to see from this meeting? On the other hand, if you were to share information with me, what do you believe I would do with it?" Rudabeh begins by employing the tactics of principle negotiation, attempting to find common ground, encouraging all present to speak. Fully immersed in the arbitration, she has no idea where this might go. Could she be kidnapped and held hostage? Act as a mediator between Irovetti and the rebels? Feed information to Veleda? She had never entered an arbitration with so many closed doors ahead of her.
Rudabeh's question hangs in the air for along moment, and silence reigns. The strange multi-colored lights play across the assembled rebels, making it seem more a dream then a clandestine political meeting.
Finally the leader speaks, voice careful. "You cut to the quick of the matter, I will give you that. Something some others should learn."
There is some adjusting from the others at the table.
He goes on, "We would hope that, after hearing about the regime that rules here, that you, and through you, the Pact, would support us. What that exactly means depends a great deal on you, your superiors and events in Pitax. "
The Alderman speaks for the first time, "Your public disavowal of Irovetti's government would go a long way toward helping us install a fairer administration."
The wiry woman snorts and says, not so quietly, "Asking a member of Alseta's church to take a side is like asking the river to stand still."
The bandit woman, the Green Hood leans forward. "We could be a powerful supporter of the Pact, if it helped us."
The offer fills the air, hanging over their heads like smoke. The half-orc solider grunts and says, "We do not ask you to risk your life."
The leader seizes control and says, agreeing, 'Exactly. While I would hope our cause is just enough to convince you, I do not ask you to directly join our struggle. Not yet, at any rate. At this point, I merely ask you...what are you willing to do?"
Rudabeh's eyes shift to each person in turn as they speak, internalizing their suggestions and feelings.
When control of the disccusion returns to the leader figure, she leans forward again, laying her arms on the table and cupping one hand with the other while listening.
"I am not willing to support open rebellion at this time." She states plainly, looking straight ahead at the leader's mask. "As a representative of the Pact, it is my duty to maintain the tenuous peace and cooperation between nations that has been built up over the past few decades by Veleda. Naturally, this favors the support of the status quo. Please understand that if other rulers saw that I or the Pact were directly backing persons supporting non-consensual changes in regime, especially those that are pledging to support the pact itself, they would grow suspicious of my organization's motivations, perhaps going so far as to accuse us of trying to build our own state."
Her hands lift from the table, staying together and stopping near her chin. "On that note, please allow me a moment to express my personal opinion. Even under the Pact I still consider the River Kingdoms too tumultuous and chaotic. I hope within my lifetime to see all the independant nations united under one banner in a cooperative ruling structure."
The undine's face is mostly flat, but for a moment her eyes gleam with thoughts of a hazy, far-off future. "A collection of states all working towards the common good of the River Kingdoms as a whole, if you can imagine such a thing."
The gleam is gone, and she closes her eyes briefly. The fatigue of the long day weighs heavy on her eyelids, but she finds the mental fortitude to push past it and open her eyes once more while speaking. "I do not know what Veleda has planned, but the Pact is the foundation such an idea could rest upon, and perhaps the day will come when the status quo is no longer favorable to the greater good. If the Pact ever pushes for true unifacation and some leaders violently resist the idea and leave us no alternative, those displeased with the current rule, such as yourself, would be key in establishing a unified nation. Otherwise, I could not support the shedding of blood."
Her own opinions now on the table, her hands shift once more to rest metal on wood. "I have told you what I am not willing to do, and that there may be the far-flung possibility for cooperation in the future. Now I will tell you what I am willing to do right now."
The paladin shifts in her seat with a soft jingle of metal and equipment, leaning forward and casting her gaze in a slow motion around the table. "Firstly, I am willing to set up and arbitrate a meeting between yourselves and Irovetti, if you believe there is any way to reconcile the differences between your organization and his rulership. This can take any form, as long as the two sides can freely communicate with each other, and I am sure with enough magical support you all could be rendered anonymous or not even physically present. If some deal could be reached, the Pact could send representatives and monitors to ensure both sides are keeping their end of the bargain. You know Irovetti better than I, so please tell me if such an exercise would be pointless or dangerous for you all. However, I feel it is the best way forward to solve your grievances at this time."
Having reached one end of the table with her scanning gaze, she merely starts back in the other direction. "Secondly, if you are willing to share your information with me, I will personally pass all of it along to Veleda herself. I do not know what she will do, if anything, and considering her incredible abilities she may already know everything you want to tell me. If the accusations and evidence are damning enough she may or may not denounce his rule as one of you suggested, but at this time it would be much better for her to do it than I. I am a mere paladin of Alseta and servant of the Pact with no real power or influence; she is a mythical figure on her own, and has the ears of nations. Of course, hearing your side of the situation would also help me arbitrate if you wanted to take the first option."
Silence settles on the room as she finishes speaking, and the undine leans back in her chair. "Thoughts?" She inquires, ears folding down slightly as she returns to a passive, listening role.
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This time there is no moment of careful silence. Indeed Rudabeh barely has time to finish speaking when the wiry woman begins her angry reply.
"A meeting? You offer a meeting?" She says, hands pressed to the table, bracing herself. "Do you have any idea how arrogant and foolish that sounds? "
The leader raises a palm to placate her saying, "She doesn't know..."
But this time is unable to quell her as she stands up, knocking her chair to the ground with a loud clunk.
"Then maybe it is time to stop paddling around the shoals." With a quick motion she reaches up and pulls part of her fabric mask away from the left side of her face.
The face exposed is fair, even pretty. Smooth, tanned skin around a delicate mouth and a fine nose. Black hair in natural ringlets is pushed aside to reveal slightly pointed ears, speaking of some elf heritage. In the movement Rudabeh notes a wooden holy symbol around the woman's neck.
But then Rudabeh seems the eye. Or what is left of it.
A ragged socket of blistered scarred flesh is all that remains. The strange lighting of the room throws the cragged deformity into harsh relief, casting shadows down her cheek. Crusted pools of dried blood lurk in the bottom of that horrid pit.
"This is what happens to those that Irovetti 'meets', paladin. I was given this for speaking out against him on the docks. I have no desire to see Irovetti again unless it is to repay him in kind."
'Orza, please" the leader says again, rising in turn. While his words are pleading, they are delivered with firm command and power.
The one eyed woman turns to him, and slowly pulls the mask over her mangled face. "I thought it was best to show the stakes to our esteemed guest here. I want her to know that while her Pact speaks of 'cooperation' and 'non-consensual changes' the River Freedoms are being stomped on by Irovetti sacred rules her Pact claims to uphold." but she seems somewhat chastened as she sits back down, resetting her chair.
The leader nods to her then turns to Rudabeh, sitting himself as well. "You can see plainly the state we are in. You speak, honestly, I am sure, of the 'greater good'. But is the greater good a burden we bear or a goal we seek out? Is not an injustice inflicted on one person an injustice done to all? Every time Irovetti violates a right here, it is a lash on the back of the entire River Kingdoms. Do you really think your Pact is truly clean from the blood spilled here, now that you know?"
Oskara speaks up again saying, in a calm voice, "Besides, Irovetti isn't the legitimate ruler. Meeting with him, arbitrated by a member of the Pact would merely cement the upstart. The true power should land with the Trade Houses, those who founded this city and ran it for centuries. Irovetti is a temporary blight, not a permanent fixture to be worked around."
As he finishes the Green Hood breaks in, voice idle, almost bored, "I voted against meeting with you paladin. I respect the Pact, and they have done plenty of good in the River Kingdoms. But I knew your hands would be tied and you have not dissapointed. I will say this though." She holds up a long finger, tanned skin grimed with dirt.
"In the time it takes you to evaluate the stasus quo in your meeting rooms and assemblies, there may be no movement left. We only exist because Irvoetti is ignorant of us. I am the only public rebel here and he thinks me a mere outlaw with claims to past family glory. If you dawdle, the choice will be made for you, when our heads decorate spikes."
Rudabeh is surprised by the woman's sudden outburst, watching her with great concern. "I don't-" Her face darkens as Orza reveals the sunken and malformed hole where her eye used to be, but the paladin does not look away.
Her head turns back to the leader of the table as he interjects, and she shakes her head. "I must fundamentally disagree with you. There are injustices happening every day, and we can not stop them all. I, and the Pact, choose to focus on problems that would cause the greatest suffering- we stop wars from beginning or negotiate peace instead of joining one side or the other, we encourage trade to create honest jobs to lift people out of poverty instead of handing out copper, or we address grievances from the top down to keep established order in place. I wish I could, but I cannot help every individual along the way to greater, encomposing solutions. I prefer to build new dams downstream instead of sticking my fingers in the leaky holes of the current dam, if I can help it."
She leans forward again, face softened to one of sadness. "Philosphies aside, I do want to help you. It is clear I am completely ignorant of the situation in Pitax, to the point where I am saying foolish things. If Irovetti has been violating the River Freedoms I want to know."
Turning her head to the side, she address Oskara driectly. "If Irovetti's claim is not legitimate, then how did it come to be? I heard there was a ... card game involved?" Skepticism creeps into her voice, as if she does not believe the rumors.
Swiveling her gaze to Green Hood, she considers the woman carefully. The only public rebel? So Irovetti does not know there is a real movement against him? ...Or does he? Crosses through her mind before she addresses the woman. "You are wise, Lady Green Hood. I will admit that taking time to solve problems sometimes causes more problems. I am hesitant to act alone in this matter unless there is significant evidence of abuse of the River Freedoms by Irovetti. I was not sent here to investigate grievances, or act as a dignitary. If I destabilize the entire nation when I was simply supposed to be judging an archery contest..." She trails off and sighs, only imagining what Veleda would do to her.
"If you deem it worth your time, I will hear your grievances. At the very least, I swear I will discuss it with Veleda herself. If the crimes are truly heinous I will confront Irovetti personally. If this is not good enough for you, I understand." Rudabeh states simply, awaiting their decision.
When Rudabeh mentions 'dams' she sees the wiry woman cross her arms and lean back in disgust. Too late the undine paladin recalls that to the followers of Hanspur a dam is a sacrilegious object, an affront to the river.
When the paladin finishes, the woman once again seizes the floor, voice biting.
"I am touched at your concern for the Freedoms, follower of Alseta. I am concerned however that you did not notice their violation. Walk Any Road, save one in Pitax at night. Did you see many people out of their homes here? Is a curfew, even an unofficial one, permitted? As for Say What You Will, I Live Free....I think you saw what happened to me. Irovetti mocks the Freedoms and breaks them when he can and bends them when he can't. How is that for grievance?"
She huffs and stops talking obviously feeling she has said enough. One hand goes to the driftwood holy symbol, twisting it in her fingers.
To her second question, the Green Hood leans forward. "The card game story is true, to a point. My ancestors, the Liacenza, had ruled the city for decades. They were rather good at it, promoting the vineyards and trade in the region. Irovetti showed up years ago and challenged the two rulers to a card game at one of the dockside wharehosues. Details are slim but Irovetti emerged the next morning with a legal document signing over all family lands and the crown of Pitax." Her voice grows husky with repressed rage, "Obviously Irovetti used some sort of trickery, but nothing was ever proven. Soon the losers of that game turned up dead, floating face down in the river."
The bandit ruler tapes the table with her fingers, 'Would you that is legitimate?"
Oskara nods, hood moving in the weird light, "What she says is true, although I would add this. You speak of prosperity and trade as a priority for the Pact. This is good and something we agree on." His voice is smooth and practiced, a man selling an item he has sold many times. It reminds Rudabeh of her father. "Irovetti has been terrible for the local economy. His taxes are high, he discourages trade through his iron rule and has neglected the old vineyards. Perhaps you noticed how empty the docks seemed when you arrived to the city? I can assure you, if the Trade Houses were put back in power, we could do much more."
The leader coughs and Osakra grows quiet suddenly. All heads turn as the powerfully built man stands up, arms wide. "We are not here to speak of trade. This is about the freedom of an oppressed people. You ask for grievances. Very well, I will give them."
"A people taxed and plundered to pay for outrageous games and spectacle. A stable of pet artists to enhance his ego and glorify his so-called accomplishments. A state built on fear, of people disappearing in the middle of the night, of people being blinded for speaking out. Is that not grievance enough?"
His voice rises, trembling with real anger, emotion dripping off each word."The villages and hinterland suffer as Irovetti plays with his golden scepter, hidden in his palace. While he plans his grand Festival, his enforcers lurk the streets and maim the innocent. The dungeons beneath the First palace groan with despair. Is that enough? A city full of fear, a city crumbling away beneath gold leaf, a city where the Freedoms are mocked."
Abruptly he sits down, voice low, "If that does not move you to action, Paladin Rudabeh of Outsea, Representative of the Pact of Years, then this meeting was in vain and should be ended."
In a moment of lost focus, Rudabeh finds herself wishing this was some kind of arbitration about an affair between wealthy nobles, or something simple.
Taking a deep breath, she attempts to re-engauge her tired mind, first responding to the priestess of Hanspur. "I am not trying to argue semantics with you, but unfortunately unless it is written into law or decreed, an "unofficial curfew" would not violate Walk Any Road from a legal perspective. That said, I do agree it is very troubling and does show that something is wrong with the city. I would need more information on these disappearances." She holds up a hand in an effort to calm the agitated woman. "However, your claim that Irovetti put out your eye for speaking against him is a clear violation of Say What You Will... What exactly did you say to him? Do you know of any others that he has supressed in such a manner that I could speak to?"
Dark eyebrows turning down in a furrow of interest and concern, her head turns to Green Hood. "If Irovetti has a signed document awarding him all of your family's lands and the crown, then yes, it is legitimate UNLESS..." The undine stresses the word, heading off any further outbursts from the group. "...they were somehow compelled to act against their will through magic, divine power, or alchemical concoctions. This would nullify the agreement. The fact the two previous rulers ended up dead is highly suspect, but unless there is some evidence Irovetti compelled them to sign against their will, then it is merely finger pointing." With a sigh, Rudabeh resists the urge to rub her eyes with her gauntlets- it never goes well. "So I ask you, Lady Green Hood, do you know of anyone else that attended that card game that night? Anyone I can speak to?"
Finally, her limpid gaze rests on the passionate man at the head of the table. "I understand your plight, and believe your words. So I ask you to take a moment to understand my position. While Irovetti may be cruel and opressive here, he is completely amicable on the national stage. His willingness to cooperate with the Pact is second-to-none, and he has made no attempts at aggression with Pitax's neighbors. It is not within the best interests of the Pact to work against him." The paladin leans forward, right elbow resting on the table. "But I am a seeker of Truth and enforcer of Law. If Irovetti has claimed this land through ill-gotten means he will face retribution. If he is violating the River Freedoms I will ensure the Pact knows of his transgressions."
Leaning back once more, the undine steeples her fingers as she expounds her final thoughts. "While my heart urges me to dive into these murky depths, my mind and soul cautions me, both because of my position, and because facts, not feelings, are the true foundations of action. I must perform my own independant investigation, find evidence and cooberating claims, before any action is taken. If I cannot find sufficient proof I will not act, but I will keep my earlier promise and personally tell Veleda everything you have told me so she is aware the rumors about Irovetti have merit."
"Well, as long as Irovetti appears to be righteous, that is all that really matters. Maybe someone will investigate but we have to wait for facts. Our struggle is merely finger-pointing..." the wiry woman says scathingly.
"This meeting was a waste of time,as I said it would. Alseta may be a fine god, but her followers are far too concerned with the status quo. The Pact is only an ally to those already in power, not those seeking justice."
The leader nods to this in half agreement, obviously acceding the point. The drift of the meeting had gone sour and it is becoming apparent to Rudabeh they are talking past each other.
Before anyone else says anything, the otherwise nearly silent half-orc speaks up, deep voice commanding attention.
"Your reasoning is sound, but your demands unreasonable, Paladin." he intones, voice perfectly calm. "The burden lies on us? Irvoetti obviously has both the means and the abilty to hide his crimes."
"The card game was only attended by himself and the two Liacenza brother, who bother purported to have fuzzy memories of the encounter. Was that a artifact of heavy drink, or magic or merely lying to save their skin? It is impossible to prove, and obviously designed that way."
He inclines his head Orza, the Hanspur follower, 'As for violations of the Freedoms, you yourself say they are up to interpretation. Obviously Irovetti does not frame his choices as against the Freedoms. Indeed, he often invokes them as cover. When she was speaking out and protesting against the government, it was on the docks. Irovetti argued this was upsetting river traffic and violating the freedom of movement."
He sighs sadly and Rudabeh can see his finger stumps clearly. Another judgement of Irvoetti?
"You will never have the proof you need to move without doubt or risk. Everything you say is true and yet to us, irrelevant."
The Green Hood speaks up, looking toward the obvious leader of this movement. "It is as I said. We have all said our part and she hers, most plainly. I think we can end this meeting. This is a dangerous time to be gathered."
The leader nods and stands up. His voice is heavy as he says, "Paladin of Outsea, follower of Alseta. Thank you for coming. I am sorry our courses do not lie fully together. Perhaps it was overeager of me to try and lash our boats together so soon. I am sure we all will consider your council and your offer of friendship."
An audible snort of derision from the Hanspur woman.
"At least consider what we have said. That is what I beg of you. Maybe your mind can be moved by your heart. Stranger things have happened."
He nods to Tark, who moves to open the door.
Rudabeh closes her eyes briefly as the priestess of Hanspur lays into her with sarcasm and biting words. I understand she was wronged. But it has made her unwilling to listen to reason.
She opens her eyes as the half-orc begins speaking, considering his words with an expressionless face. "I am sorry I am putting the burden of proof onto you, but I must. The fifth oath in my Paladin Code is "I swear to respect legitimate authority." Without evidence Irovetti's rule is illegitimate, acting to directly undermine his rule is breaking my Code. The suspicious circumstances of his ascenion to the throne and the death of the two Liacenza brothers shortly thereafter is but a single piece of evidence. If there exists a barrister so skilled they can build a winning case with a single piece of circumstantial evidence, it is not me."
The undine almost looks sad when the half-orc says she will never have enough evidence to act without doubt or risk. "I know. But I do not pass judgements indiscriminately. However, Irovetii's violation of Say What You Will is a serious concern. If you know of any others that he has opressed, I want to speak with them. It may not result in him being overthrown, but the Pact may punish him if I bring forth enough testimony."
Usually this is the part where Rudabeh would attempt to settle everyone down and restart negociations... but this time she was part of the negociation. There was no arbiter in this situation. It was all a little strange, but part of her was glad it was over.
She begins to stand as Green Hood signals their meeting should come to an end. "I agree. I am concerned for your safeties, so please be careful on your way home." Rudabeh says as she folds back her ears, slipping her helmet on. "I would offer to escort any of you home, but not only do I doubt you would like to be seen with me, I am, by my nature, highly conspicuous." It wasn't really a joke; the 6 foot tall, heavily armed and armored undine had the extra defining feature of being completely covered in dried manticore blood.
Bowing her head to each person in turn, she looks at the leader of the table. "I apologize this did not go the way you had hoped. But you did confirm my suspicions that some of the rumors concerning Irovetti are true. He is a tyrant. Unfortunately, as a wise woman once said to me: "If we only dealt with the wise and fair, we would have precious few delegates in the Pact." My duty to uphold the relative peace that the Pact bestows upon the River Kingdoms comes first in this situation."
A thought occurs to her, making her pause in her movements. "If for some reason I need to contact you, will the groom in the First Palace that slipped me your note suffice as a messenger?" Was her final question.
"Thank you for taking the time to speak with me." With a nod, Rudabeh begins to take her leave.
"That man risked his life to give you that message." The still hidden leader says, hands pressed to the tabletop in a gesture of weariness. His shoulders are hunched, his head bowed.
"I would not ask him to do that again." he glances toward the half-orc, who nods.
He turns to Rudabeh saying, "There is a tavern in Troutmouth, the Board's Tail. Ask for Zhuk. I will hear of it."
No one says anything as Rudabeh turns and leaves, but she can feel eyes on her back, unfriendly ones. The meeting could have gone better but it could also have gone worse.
Tark leads the way through the warren of empty rooms and storage closets. Once they are safely out of earshot the man gruffly offers, "You know for a diplomat, your approach leaves something to be desired." He looks her over and adds, "The blood is a nice touch though."
Soon the door is opened and a wash of cool night air flows over Rudabeh, a relief after the stifling basement of the Theater. The street beyond is dark and quiet, with no sound or light. Tark doesn't step outside but waves for her to leave.
Then he says, quietly, "May your path be clear for you and your foes lost." he intones, a traditional Hanspur farewell.
The paladin confirms the point of contact with a simple nod. Troutmouth, Board's Tail. Zhuk.
The rebel's eyes bore into her back as she leaves, and she can't help but think she could have handled the situation better.
Tark succinctly echoes her thoughts, drawing a small guffaw from her mouth. "I will agree it was not my best work." She plainly admits, shaking her head. "I was not prepared for the stakes to be so high." I had no idea what I was getting into, and I'm used to being a moderator.. not a participant. She thinks, though she knew it was all excuses. No, it was my fault for not being prepared. I should have seen this coming. I hope Alseta will forgive me for these blunders. There would be plenty of time to think about where she went wrong on the walk back to the First Palace.
"Thanks." Rudabeh responds flatly to Tark's comment about her bloodstained armor. "What do you think: More blood for my next meeting? Less?" Her tone was clearly joking, and she decided she liked Tark despite of, or perhaps because of, his deadpan gruffness.
Rudabeh bows her head to the man, "May your door move freely for freinds, but hold fast against evil." returning his farewell with one of her own.
Clanking down the cobblestone path, she begins her journey back down the dead streets to the First Palace.
Tark merely grunts and closes the door behind her, latching it tightly, with the sound of iron grating on iron.
Rudabeh walks alone through the empty streets. The sky above has totally cleared now and reveals a vast panorama of glittering stars, an endless field of blazing lights. If she focuses, Rudabeh can see shades of color there, tiny pinpricks of sapphire, ruby or emerald green. While she has no expert, she knew many followers of Alseta studied the stars, as they followed the seasons and marked many natural changes in nature. It was a comfort to have them overhead, fixed and yet unfixed.
She meets no one else on her way back and senses no one following her. Finding the First Palace is easy,a s it towers over most of the small wooden buildings. The vast square is still full of busy workmen, but the tempo is slower now, less hurried.
At the main door she finds the same guard waiting for her, standing stiffly at attention. He eyes Rudabeh silently, eyebrows raised at the sheets of crusted blood.
The stars catch Rudabeh's attention as she walks through the streets, twinkling a myriad of exotic cosmic colors at her. Somewhere there was someone that could tell her what they all meant. Were they the eyes of the gods, judging them from so far away? Alseta is certainly judging me tonight, for better or worse.
Sighing, she walks briskly through the abandoned streets of Pitax, feeling a sudden thirst. Did I do the right thing? I followed my instincts. I did what I think Veleda would have wanted.
Flipping her bag around in front of her, she reaches into the extradimensionsal space and retrieves her waterskin without stopping. Lifting the bladder to her mouth and tilting it upward, she squeezes the neck and lets forth a prodigious flow of nourishing liquid. Was that the point of this exercise? Maybe Veleda already knew about the rebels. Maybe they already reached out to her before. That this really is a test.
Gulping down nearly half the contents without pause, she lowers the bladder and flicks leftover droplets off her lips with an aquamarine tongue. I can't be sure. In any case, while people's lives could certainly be improved here, and Irovetti is the tyrant I thought he was, it is not enough to call for the chaos and violence of revolution.
Easily sliding the waterskin back into her bag of holding, Rudabeh flips the satchel onto her back with a single motion. Though, if Irovetti is violating the River Freedoms he should be punished, but I doubt he will act out around me.
Sighing deeply, the undine closes her eyes and shakes her head. I miss listening to farmers argue over grazing land and boatswains demanding higher pay. I do not know if I am cut out for the responsibility of so many lives and livelihoods.
Her blue eyes turn back to the skies, the stars, and possibly the gods. I ask for your wisdom and guidance, my goddess. I did not bring glory to you today, but I hope I did not disgrace you, either.
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Rudabeh approaches the gate to the first palace, weary and ready to sleep. She raises a hand to hail the guard on duty, stopping a few feet away. "Rudabeh of Outsea, Paladin of Alseta, requesting entry into the First Palace." Her voice was tired and slowly metered.
If Rudabeh seeks a sign from the distant heavens, she is disappointed. There is no flaring plume of fire, explosions of flame or booming voices. Just the endless field of stars stretching from horizon to horizon, beyond all count or reckoning.
The guard nods and waves her inside, silently pondering the blood. Still, whatever Irovetti said seems to have quashed any social feelings and he doesn't say a word as the weary paladin trudges past him.
Rudabeh could tell the wide-eyed guard was curious but her appearance, but she wasn't really in the mood for explaining. She felt tired, crabby, and sore; it took far too much mental effort to maintain a friendly and respectable demeanor that was expected, no, required, of a paladin of Alseta. Thus, she went straight to her suite and closed the door.
Her posture slackens as the door to the suite slides shut behind her, and she makes her way to the nearest chair while unbuckling her helmet and letting her ears out. The helmet slips from her fingers and lands on the plush carpet without a sound, its fall completely absorbed by the plush carpet.
Sighing, she takes off her gauntlets next, putting them next to the helmet. Bag of Holding and greatsword are slung around to her chest, then propped up against the arm of lavishly upholstered chair. Piece by piece her armor and equipment comes off, making a pile that ends with her boots and leaving her in a loose-fitting, off-white tunic and brown hemp breaches. Her webbed, turquoise toes sink into the carpet, the sensation strange and unfamiliar.
Exhausted, Rudabeh melts into the chair, nearly knocking over her greatsword. Her hand shoots out and catches it with a start, gently easing the weapon back into place. She stares at the sword for a second and then begins to draw the blade, laying it across her lap. It was still covered in remnants of blood and manticore gore, and needed to be cleaned. Reaching into her bag of holding, she easily picks out an oilcloth, starting to wipe down the steel and cover it in a shimmering layer of rapeseed oil.
Sighing heavily, she looks at the rest of the equipment and shakes her head. It was covered in dents, the leather was cut up with deep claw marks, and much of it was stained in blood. I need to clean and mend all this before the opening ceremony tomorrow. And sharpen my sword where it hit that wagon. Hopefully the edge isn't nicked or I'll need to take it to a smith. She thinks wearily, head flopping back against the cushiony chair. I'll just close my eyes for a moment then work on the rest. One... two... three... four........ The undine starts counting down her usual 30 second rest, but she doesn't make it past 10 before completely passing out, unhoned sword still strewn across her lap.
Rudabeh feels like she barely fell asleep when she is awakened by a tentative tapping. With reflexes born of long training Rudabeh is instantly awake, taking in her surroundings, ready for action.
She wished she hadn't. As memory floods back of where she is, her body is racked with soreness. Not only had yesterday been a long day full of both tedious decorum and unexpected violence, she had spent the entire night sleeping in a chair. No matter how comfortable, spending a night upright left knots the sizes of clam shells in her back and legs.
As she comes to terms with this pain, the knocking at the door resumes. All around Rudabeh the luxurious apartment is silent except for the insistent sound. Bright morning light pours in the windows, reflecting off gleaming wood, polished statues and glittering glass sculptures.
Then, into that silence a worried, anxious female voice says, "Mistress Paladin. The opening ceremony is about to begin! You are needed at the Central Stage. They were most insistent I get you. Please!"
Rudabeh is having wonderful dream where she is playfully chasing a school of sea turtles through a kelp forest when the tapping begins. She stops swimming, and the turtles flee in fear from the direction of the sound. Quickly swimming to the edge of the forest, she parts the last leaves to see the source; then rapidly fumbles backwards in terror.
A giant Irovetti is impatiently tapping on the glass of the aquarium she's trapped in, a huge grin blossoming across his distorted face as the undine briefly appears.
Shunting back into the waking world with a huge intake of breath through her nose, she feels her right hand still resting on her sword hilt. Gripping it tightly, her eyes pop open and she springs from the seat, taking the blade into two hands. She attempts to assume an Ox stance, starting to bring the six pound sword up over her head and parallel to the floor, but her neck chooses that moment to crack like a walnut.
Groaning from the unexpected pain, she suddenly becomes aware of every crik and sore muscle in her body, legs nearly buckling in protest at moving so quickly. She simultaneously realizes there is merely someone at the door, and with a dumbfound look on her face, listens to their pleading. Goddess no... I Didn't.. ugh, there's no time!
Anxiety fills her body and ushers away the grogginess, and Rudabeh quickly strides her way to the door. Swinging her sword up to rest the flat on her shoulder, she opens the door with her other hand to look for the source of the tapping.
Meeeting the women's eyes with her own, Rudabeh clears her throat. "Good morning, thank you for waking me. I seem to have overslept. Could you... assist me with donning my armor, please?" She inquires sheepishly, fully opening the door and stepping aside to allow the woman inside.
Inside rushes a harried looking young woman with pale hair and a simple dress of light pink. Seeing Rudabeh apparently just woke up she squeaks in fright and said, "We just assumed you were mediating or something, not sleeping! We will be late and the King will be most displeased..."
She does her best to help Rudabeh with her armor but obviously has no experience with the stuff. The girl seems far more at home with silks and hairdressing then longswords and gleaming steel.
Rudabeh clenches her jaw and sucks in air through her teeth. "Clapping clamshells, I don't want to be late." She hisses in self-chastization, looking back at the pile of beat-up, bloodstained armor.
Making a quick decision she hopes she won't regret on the way to explain to Pharasma what happened, she quickly runs over the armchair, sheathing her sword and ignoring the pile of armor. "If I'm attacked during the opening ceremony we have larger problems than how I am dressed." The undine reasons with the servant, pulling her boots on with incredible rapidity. While she is bending down Rudabeh unclasps the copper and silver holy symbol of Alseta from her breastplate, affixing the brooch to the neck of her tunic.
Grabbing the straps of her greatsword sheath and bag of holding, she starts sliding the thick leather over her shoulders and tightening the buckles while walking towards the door. "Lead the way, please. Whatever pace you wish to set, I can keep up."
The servant woman says nothing but exits the room in a flurry of high heeled shoes and skirts flapping. Despite her haste it is not hard for the taller, stronger and more practically dressed paladin to keep up.
The woman leads Rudabeh through the First Palace at a quick pace, not stopping for anything. Luckily for them the place seems empty, nearly abandoned. Gone are the guards, functionaries and servants she saw before. Bright morning sunlight pours in from windows she did not notice before and the artwork, which was impressive enough yesterday, is even more stunning.
But Rudabeh has no time to gawk at the paintings, tapestries or statues. In mere minutes they are crossing the grand entrance hall and bursting out onto the steps fronting the vast square. The sight beyond temporarily brings Rudabeh up short, no matter the imploring hisses of the servant woman.
That huge square is filled to bursting with probably the largest crowd Rudabeh has ever seen. While both Daggermark and Outsea are larger cities, she had never seen all of their citizens jammed into one spot. In front of her is a seething mass of humanity, pressed together and overflowing into the streets beyond. There are well dressed artisans of the town, alongside ragged peasants who have apparently treked in for miles. Mixed in are porters, priests, river guides and travelers of every description. Rudabeh barely has time to take it all in as they head toward a massive wooden stage that takes up one whole side of the vast plaza.
Rudabeh's boots thump on the green wood and she catches that odor of freshly sawed lumber as they cross the vast wooden platform. In the center, of course, is Irovetti, wearing glittering robes of gold and crimson. The robes are cut to make the old man look taller, more regal (and Rudabeh notes he is standing on a cunningly cut platform to raise himself even more).
Clustered about His Supreme and Inimitable Magnificence, are the other worthies of Pitax and honored guests. The masters of the Trade Houses are there, dressed in elegant finery, mostly silver and black. Mostly old men, there are a few younger women and men in the various retinues. There is a segment from the church of Calistra, with Kilarra sitting in the middle. The bright morning sunlight does not suit her, and she looks very old and worn there despite the blazingly bright colors of her church. The daringly cut clothes seem more a desperate plea then a subtle invitation.
Close at hand are the group from the Kingdom of the Free. They at least seem to have dressed well. The hulking warrior woman is wearing clean and well-made furs from a dozen animals topped with a ermine cloak of excellent design. The thin man in her shadow is dressed in dark purples and greens, and seems to dislike being stared at by so many people. The half-orc wizard, in robes of shimmering blue seems bored with the whole affair and seems to be amusing himself by muttering to himself. Which left....Tolmara
The half-elf is dressed in the striped colors of her faith, and her clothing is a resplendent affair of glistening leather, dazzlingly fabric and glittering metal. Set off by fine skin and hair blowing just so, it is no wonder many eyes seem focused on her. She ignores the attention however, chatting amiably with another guest.
It takes Rudabeh a moment to realize the man she is talking to is no one then Pircien Khavortov. Wearing a doublet of his family colors and sword at his side, the man bears few signs of his..interesting night. Red eyes and a stiffness that reminds Rudabeh of her own protesting muscles. At his side is the squire, Tenamar, who shyly catches Rudabeh's eye apparently not as smitten with the half-elf.
Behind them all are rows of flapping flags and tapestries that hide the back stage. As they walk past Rudabeh hears muffled talk and thumps from behind this flimsy screen. What surprises did Irovetti have in store?
Speaking of the ruler...he glances at Rudabeh hustling over and smiles and relaxes. Obviously her absence was causing the old man some distress. He publicly leaves his place and crosses the platform to her, moving to formally embrace the paladin in front of hundreds (thousands?) of people.
Rudabeh starts off jogging alongside the servant woman, but eventually falls into a fast walk once she realizes her saviour can't move very quickly in such fancy dress. It was an odd sensation to be moving so quickly without armor slowing her down. She considered her armor to be her official uniform as a paladin of Alseta, and felt rather vulnerable without the heavy plates and mail covering her body. Alseta willing, I will not have to face the forces of chaos today.
Suddenly remembering she didn't even have time for morning prayers, a sigh escapes her lips. Forgive me for missing my daily devotion, my goddess... I swear to go above and beyond my duty today, bringing order and fostering goodwill between all parties- I hope this will act as a suitable substitute. Rudabeh touches her holy symbol during her silent prayer, trying to shake the guilty feeling of sleeping in so late.
The slow pace of her guide gives her time to at least glance at the spectatular sun-lit tapestries and portraits hanging in the hall, and the undine makes a mental note to return during the daylight hours to re-examine the works she saw the previous day.
As the huge central square comes into view, Rudabeh is absoltely stunned by the crushing sea of humanity. Her pace slows for a moment, head swinging from left to right while the urging servant beckons her up the stage. Is this... the entire country? I have never... how do they even breathe packed so close together? Her awed thoughts continue until she crests the platform, suddenly realizing the people went on as far as she could see.
Eyes wide and fanned ears fully erect atop her head in extreme alterness, she swings her vision around the platform; taking in all the officals and other persons arranged about the platform. Catching Tenamar's eye, Rudabeh flashes him a quick grin of acknowledgement before looking elsewhere.
Everyone was dressed in their finest clothes, some outfits possibly made for this very occassion. Ironically, Rudabeh probably stood out the most, for not only did her turqoise skin seem to shimmer enticely in the sunlight like the surface of a clear tropical pool, but her simple brown tunic, white breeches, and dark azure hair tied back in a low, tight bun behind her neck greatly contrasted the assorted finery of the stage. This was perfect, of course, for she sought to truly embody her oath to be humble in both apperance and manner, and probably would not have worn anything else even if it was offered.
As Irovetti moves to embrace her she bows her head slightly in greeting before returning his embrace without much thought to the action. Stepping back, the undine smiles sheepishly at the king. "I apologize for my tardiness. I did not even make it to to the bed; the chair you prepared for me in the apartment was so comfortable I overslept. The woman you sent to retrieve me deserves a commendation for resucing me from national embarrassment."
Turning her body towards the crowd, she lifts an arm, waving it over the gathered people. "This... is incredible. I have never seen so many people in one place in my life." While peering over the crowd she is breifly reminded of the seething masses of humanity during the Red Revolution, and then the events of the previous night suddenly hit her. The manticore, the rebels, their discussion on Irovetti's possible illegitimate rule and violation of the River Freedoms. I... probably should not have embraced him. I did not even consider the implications. A pall comes over her face breifly, ears lowering slightly to exagerate the effect, but she supresses it as quickly as it appeared. Nothing seems simple any more. Am I responsible for the well being of all these people, too? She thinks, distracted by the intricacies and pitfalls of politics while looking over the gathering.
"Yes, we had a good turnout." the man says modestly.
Irovetti amicably nods and smiles to he paladin. He also turns and waves to the crowd, a regal, formal movement of the hand. Rudabeh notes few people cheer or call out as she expected. There is a tension in the air that belies the carnival atmosphere that Irovetti seems to be going for, an anticipatory thrill throughout the crowd. Whether the crowd expects good or bad, Rudabeh can't tell.
Irovetti coughs and waves a hand. A few of the various servants and attendants hovering near by move away as Supreme and Inimitable Magnificence of Pitax steps onto the cunningly lifted platform. Arms spread wide, a gentle breeze catches his robes, rippling in the bright sunlight like a golden sheet of water.
When he speaks his voice is strong, liquid, regal. Rudabeh realizes in shock that Irovetti must be using magic to enhance his voice, to make it more befitting his station and self-image. More remarkably, glancing out, she sees people throughout the crowd remark or react. While the king's voice isn't overly loud to her it is somehow carrying to the very back of the massive crowd. At every word heads bow or turn to listen, like a ripples of a vast lake touched by a pressing wind. Clearly Irovetti has some magical skill.
"Greetings citizens, travelers and honored guests to the Grand and Illuminated Festival of Pitax! While we have held this event annually for many years, rarely has it been graced by such honored guests."
"Not only are we honored to host our fellow rulers and neighbors." He gestures to the entourage from the Kingdom of the Free. Tamora stands and bows while the others merely shuffle their feet and look nervous. There are claps and whsitles for the half-elf who grins at the attention but sits back down. Rudabeh detects below the cherry exterior she is watching Irovetti and weighing his words very carefully.
'But we are also blessed by the presence of Rudabeh of Outsea, a paladin of Alseta and a representative of the Pact of Years itself." he half turns toward the paladin before adding, 'Let me use this chance, paladin, to declare Pitax's appreciation and support of the Pact of Years. It has brought peace, order and understanding to our often divided land. I am sure I join many in this crowd when I deeply thank you and pledge our own unwavering support tot he mission it supports. Under my rule Pitax has stood solidly behind the Pact and it will do so forever!"
Turning back to the crowd he gesture grandly, making his robes flap in the breeze. "Now, please a moment of silence as our esteemed visitor and arbiter leads us in an opening benediction. Please, Rudabeh of the Pact, bless our festival and all those assembled here on this fine day." he inclines his head in seeming respect.
Rudabeh steps back some as Irovetti prepares to address the crowd, finding herself shocked by Irovetti's apparent magical skill. The King is, if anything, full of surprises.
When her name was mentioned the paladin sweeps her left arm forward and under her chest, head low and ears pulled back in a formal bow to the crowd. She stands back up slowly, turning to look at Irovetti as he speaks of his commitment to the Pact. I must remember that. I must put my personal feelings aside, put aside the murmurings of rebels. While there may be suffering here, it is a small price to pay compared to the order and peace the Pact brings. I am not here to judge Irovetti's character or rule.
Just as she has put the concerns of the rebels out of her mind, she is hit with another surprise- that she was to perform the festival's benediction. The paladin's eyebrows shoot up, and she glances from Irovetti to the crowd. Me...? Not Kilarra? Assuming this is another power play of some sort, she takes a deep breath and moves to stand next Irovetti, briefly closing her eyes. All these politics... every action or comment meaning something... My mind simply doesn't work this way! Just... focus on this for a moment, leave everything else behind.
"Thank you, King Irovetti." Rudabeh says as she opens her eyes to the morning sun. "Esteemed people of Pitax" She intones in a booming mezzo-saprano, sweeping her arms in front of her as if to embrace them all.
"Thank you for welcoming me into your fine city, on behalf of myself and the Pact of Years. This is my first time in Pitax, and I am deeply grateful for the opportunity to meet as many of you as I can during my stay." Rudabeh says sincerely, her arms falling to her sides. "My duty is to observe the games and festivies, keeping the peace and ensuring all competition is fair and in good spirit."
"However, I am also eager to learn your customs, taste your local delights, and be a part, if ever so briefly, of your community." She continues, segwaying into the benediction itself. "For Alseta tells us that a well-ordered and involved community is the one of the keystones of civilization, and I see gathered before me today a fine and well-ordered people, patiently awaiting the festivities that will provide not only ample entertainment, but create the life long bonds of comradery between citizens that make up the social fabric of a country."
Tourqoise fingers rise to the holy symbol clasped to her neckline, touching the silver and copper representation of Alseta's human and masked faces. "Your humble servant beseeches you, my goddess!" Rudabeh announces with conviction as solid as a towering oak, lifting her arm and head to the sky. "Turn your eyes upon this gathering, on the fine people of Pitax. Bless them so throughout the week they run into old friends once thought lost, bless them so old enemies find the courage to forgive one another, bless them so doors of opportunity once thought closed are now found open, and finally, please watch over us during this week, ensuring all who consider themselves part of this community may freely enjoy the games without fear or trepidation."
Her gaze and arms drop back to her side, looking over the crowd with a sudden smile. "May The Welcomer open the way to wisdom and enlightenment for you all during the Grand and Illuminated Festival of Pitax!" She finishes her benediction with an energized, sweeping gesture.
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Throughout Rudabeh's speech Irovetti either beams or looks solemn as need dictates. The ruler is obviously pleased to have such a firm sign of the Pact's favor for his event, his rule and for himself. Irovetti seems to particularly like the bit about patient subjects, waiting in turn.
Rudabeh does reflect while such events are good for legitimatizing him, at least he isn't doing so by invading nearby kingdoms as had happened so often in the past of the River Kingdoms. Such peace is worth a few blindings....right?
Rudabeh is pleased to note her voice is magically enhanced as she speaks, her words effortlessly reaching into the vast crowd, rising over the scattered conversations. When she finishes through she can detect the magic ending and fading. It was a neat trick however, and probably one worth learning. With a feeling of dread, Rudabeh realizes that Veleda has spent a considerable part of her life giving such speeches. Was this her future?
As these thoughts whirl in her head, Irovetti addresses the crowd.
"Wise words, wise words indeed." He waves a hand, and as if on cue, there is a round of applause. It isn't thunderous, but it is enough for her to catch a fleeting glimpse of why some men chase glory.
"Such words about justice and order are particularly apt today." The king says, voice growing formal and stern. "For, as all here assembled no, even Pitax is not free of those who disagree. There are some among us who delight in chaos, who promoting their own greed above all others, who seek destruction of all we hold dear, of all we have built."
His voice grows thunderous and heavy, "But justice does not sleep! And thought it may sometimes be slow, rest assured, it is ever watchful. And when it falls...it falls like a storm, destroying those who defy it. It is with great saddness that I must say some have even entered into the very government itself! That sacred trust that makes Pitax the golden land it is today."
He shakes his head melodramatically before turning to the fabric behind him, "Bring forth the criminal! Bring forth the traitor to the people of Pitax" His phrasing makes Rudbah's skin crawl as she sees, in her minds eyes, those raving mobs of Galt. Had they sounded so different?
As the real crowd in front of her starts to boo and hiss, a trio appears on the stage. two hulking guards, dressed in heavy leathers with black masks obscuring their faces drag a gagged woman between them. She is barely conscious, being more dragged then carried by the brutal guards. Graying brown hair, mottled with dried blood, hangs down, obscuring her features. Ragged clothes, one fine, are torn and stained with mud. Then the guards haul her to her feet, pinning her upright with strong grips, and her head lolls to the side.
With a shock Rudabeh realizes she knows who this is. Toski Darrad, the woman whom Irovetti introduced as the leader of the Pitax Thieves Guild but called herself Trade Commissioner. What was going on?
Irovetti swings his arms wide to the people, enveloping them all. "Many of you know Toski Darrad, once Commissioner of Trade." the crowd boos and jeers, with real hatred. A few from the front rows even try to spit on the woman, while others sticks to hurling insults.
'It has been discovered that she has committed many crimes with her office, the one given in trust to her by us. Fraud, bribery, intimidation, embezzlement and corruption of all kinds!"
"This woman has stolen from you!"
Cries of rage.
"This woman has cheated you!"
Fists shaken in hate.
"This woman has even conspired with outside agitators who seek to invade Pitax!"
Shouts for vengeance.
Irovetti nods in agreement. "Do not worry! Her time, and those of her allies, is over and with her passing comes a lesson to all those who break the law of Pitax and seek to undermine law and order. We will not rest until you are found out and destroyed. We will not settle for anything less!"
He waves curtly to the guards, "Take her away!"
Rudabeh finds the applause of the crowd to be an unfamilar sensation. She was not used to being applauded by anyone, let alone a crowd of thousands of people. While it momentarily elated her, on further reflection it also made her uneasy, and she wasn't quite sure what.
With little time to reflect on her own feelings or to further justify her support of the king for the greater good, Irovetti transitions into an entirely different matter. His words get under her skin and draw a frown from the undine, reminding her all too well of the lynchings in Galt and the hungry mob. The broken tip of her scarred ear starts to itch as if in protest.
She steps aside from the stage as the prisoner was brought forward, peering at the figure with furrowed brows, lowered ears, and all other manner of apt concern. Tsoki...? She thinks when the realization of the person's identify becomes clear.
She said she hoped I would see justice done... Are those the words of the thief? Was she working with the rebels? Or is this another one of Irovetti's schemes? Rushes through her mind, looking over the jeering and bloodthristy crowd.
The situation was starting to make her very uncomfortable, and she unconciously shifts her feet and places hands on her hips. Though she says nothing at the moment, Rudabeh is hard at work in her own mind. Conspired with outside invaders? If there is someone pecking at the borders of Pitax, I must know about it and inform Veleda. I will ask Irovetti about these invaders, and Tsoki's role in the matter, later.
As the guards begin to take Tsoki away, Rudabeh approaches Irovetti. She carefully taps on his shoulder and leans in to speak quietly with him. "If Tsoki is involved in a plot against your boarders, this is a matter concering the Pact. I would like to interview her to see if a grander scheme is involved. Please, I ask you stay her execution and shield her from further harm until I can speak with her."
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Irovetti pauses, blinks once, then turns to Rudabeh. When he speaks, his words are a low, warm whisper, projecting nothing to the crowd. In fact Rudabeh wonders if even someone standing right behind them would hear the subtle tones.
"Perhaps. We can discuss this later when we are not on a formal stage in front of every citizen in Pitax." He glances at the guards holding the captive. He makes a short gesture with his hand, and both nod.
Turning back to Rudabeh Irovetti says, "Consider her execution stayed, for now. As for an interview...later."
He sweeps back to the crowd and his voice is the same golden roar, "But let us not dwell on such evil this day. No, today we celebrate the glory, the honor, the successes of Pitax!"
The ruler of Pitax points off stage to a column of men. "Begin the Parade of Wonders!"
A horn sounds and, from around the wooden stage, a procession begins, pushing right through the center of the mass of people.
Leading the way are men and women in stilts, representing the major gods of the Inner Sea. There is a golden colored Abadar, sternly striding, alongside a Desna dresses in flowing, glittering robes. A handsome Cayden Calien stumbles to and fro, a dozen wineskins rattling at his side. An imposing iron Gorum moves ponderously, clanking with each heavy step, while a glowing Sarenrae keeps paces with him, a massive sword in her arms. The figure of Calsitra is particularly ornate, a revealing yet complex series of soft silk robes fluttering in the breeze.
Apart are the twin gods of the River Kingdoms. One is Alseta, portrayed as a tall elven women wearing humble brown robes, trimmed with leaves at all stages of the year. While her face is hidden behind a tradtional mask, her hair is interesting. One side is done int he braids of a young child while the other is long and free flowing, the hair of a woman grown. Rudabeh reflects this is a clever way of showing Alseta profolio of transition.
Beside her is Hanspur, the most complex so far. It is a raft of wood, held aloft on the backs of four black-clad men. Sheets of blue silk make it appear to be floating on a azure river, rippling and flowing. In the center of the raft is a massive rat, imposing and magestic, with whiskers as long as Rudabeh's arms. Someone must control it, for the sharp-nosed head twists and turns, pointing to the crowd.
Behind them all trails the dark figure of Norgerber, wrapped in a dark cloak that trails to the ground, shining with iridescent colors.
Next are rows of small children, dressed in bright smocks, singing and throwing flowers. They seem to be enjoying themselves, although there are adult minders keeping them in line.
The next portion makes Rudabeh wince. A big shape appears, held aloft by many men on poles. At first she thinks it is a giant puppet of some sort, but as it moves she realizes it is the manticore she slew last night. It has been, rather crudely, stuffed and mounted in a way that at least allows a semblance of activity and movement. Many people point and laugh, apparently thinking it is a farce.
Behind that strides what appears to be a city guard or watch. Stern faced men, marching in step, gleaming armor and weapons at their side. It is a thrilling thing, to watch them turn and wheel as one...but also disquieting. There is steel here, below the velvet.
Moving around and through the groups is any number of jugglers, sword-swalloers, fire breathers and other street performers. They laugh and joke with the assembled citizens, sometimes moving into the crowd, weaving among them.
It is an impressive display of wealth on Irovetti's part. Rudabeh doubts that even Outsea, which sometimes had a flair of pageantry, could have pulled off something this large.
Next to her Irovetti waves graciously to the amused crowd, but speaks to Rudabeh out of the corner of his mouth. "I hear it is thanks to you that my manticore needed to be stuffed last night?" he sounds quite annoyed about it, like a child whose favorite toy (of many) went missing.
Rudabeh nods, glancing from Toski back to the king. "Thank you, and yes, we should discuss this later."
She leans back, turning her eyes to the starting point of the Parade of Wonders. As with everything Irovetti does, the paladin can't help but be impressed by the granduer the king is able to muster.
The stilted gods are delightful, putting a small smile on her face as they trundle through the street. Alseta's depiction is especially interesting, and even with her study she had not seen such an original representation of the goddess. Briefly, she makes a mental note to find out who concocted such a clever images so she could give them thanks.
The sudden appearance of the stuffed manticore sets her jaw as she recalls the tulmultuous battle with the beast, an intoxicated and wild Pircien at her... side? The paladin shifts uncomfortably, knowing she should apologize to Irovetti, but not finding the willpower to overcome her reservations concerning the tortured beast.
The march of the town guard distracts her momentarily, the thrilling manuevers and disciplined motions taking her back to her days as part of Outsea's defensive forces. Ten years of drills and equal parts friendships and hardships instills a sense of belonging few that had not experienced it would understand. Part of her longs for the simplicity of predictable days and following orders once more.
Of course, Irovetti snaps her back to the chaotic and uncertain present with a question she had been dreading. The undine's ears droop with guilt. "Ah... yes. I apologize for killing it, but I had no choice." She admits, knowing full well the merchant that asked her to stop would have given a full, easily identifiable description of her. "I was attempting to break up an altercation on the side of the street when a wagon pile-up broke the manticore's cage. Myself and a concerned bystander rushed in to prevent it from killing the surrounding teamsters." Is her explanation, low voice projecting her regret over the event as a whole.
Feeling like she needed to add some further justifacation besides the lives of innocent people- "Even so, it nearly broke free of its bonds and flew off, and certainly would have done so if left to its own devices. Given how intelligent and malaligned manticore are rumored to be, it would have terrorized the city." She spectulates, though if she were the manticore she would have flown far, far away as quickly as possible.
Irovetti accepts this but says, voice still churlish, "Still, it was very expensive. The beast would have been much more impressive alive, I wish you can managed to subdue it without slaughter." he sighs unhappily and gestures to the outrageous and expensive Hanspur 'float'. "It doesn't match the other ones. Very disappointing, very much. Will have to talk to someone about that."
Rudabeh gets the feeling when Irovetti 'talks' to someone, it isn't a purely verbal exchange.
As the parade goes on and the attention of the crowd shifts, the assembled notables on the stage begin to move about, mingling and talking with each other. The entourage from the Kingdom of the Free leave without much fanfare, Talmora leading the way as they descend into the chaotic streets.
Rudabeh is still watching the crowd, when she notes High Priestess Kilarra, come up on Irovetti's other side. The King, eyes still on the Parade of Wonders, tries to wave her off but the stout woman is unmoved.
In fact she says, her voice low and hissing, 'You will not put be off again, Castruccio." In a shock Rudabah realizes she has not heard anyone use Irovetti's first name in her entire stay.
The King of Pitax turns from the adoring crowd toward Kilarra, eyebrow's raised in surprise. The Priestess looks like she instantly regrets her tone but goes on, "I know you deflected by this morning. What I have to say is important! Those adventurers.."
'Are honored guests of Pitax." Irovetti interjects smoothly.
Kilarra grits her teeth and goes on, "The Temple is a disaster. It was an all night party there last night until the crack of dawn and it only broke up because some wanted to come here."
Irovetti, unconcerned replies, "You run a Calistra temple. Is such a bacchanalia really out of line? Besides, it isn't like they didn't have good reason, we are throwing a Festival after all."
"They are going to get out of control. Half the staff is ignoring me already, after a few days of this...."
The King waves her to silence and turns away. While Kilarra seethes behind him, Irovetti turns to Rudabeh. "Shall we explore the festivities? There is an art contest that I'd like to witness." Again he seems to transform to a rather genial old man, like a friendly grandfather. "Would be honored if you would accompany me."
Rudabeh does not apologize for the manticore again, instead looking out at the stuffed shell of a monstrosity being paraded about. In her mind's eye, she can only imagine the live beast breaking free and peppering the crowd with the dagger-sized tail spines that had went straight through her arm the night before.
While she was sorry to have ruined Irovetti's investment, between the tortured state of the beast and its potential danger, she was certainly glad it was dead.
Thankfully Irovetti changes the subject, the undine following suit "While I agree it does not match the others thematically, it is certainly impressive. I especially like the silks." She comments, knowing there was nothing she could say to prevent whomever was in charge of the floats from getting a lashing of some description.
Kilarra's approach was a surprise, as was the sound of the king's first name. Rudabeh would have wondered what it meant if the priestess' next line did not set her brow in concern.
A High Priestess of Calistria is worried about too much partying? The paladin thinks with shock. It is good for people to have fun, but... what kind of insanity took place in the temple last night? I knew those adventurers would be trouble.. it was simply a matter of where.
The exchange between Irovetti and Kilarra clearly demonstrated that absolutely nothing would be done about this, which given how much privledge and leeway Irovetti had afforded herself, was not much of a surprise.
Nodding to the king's request, she turns her clear blue eyes to Kilarra. "My offer still stands if you desire my help, High Priestess." Rudabeh says without any hint of spite or smugness. She offers a small bow of her head in farewell before turning to follow Irovetti.
The king's genial old man act made her a little uncomfortable. Fin had told her about monsters called mimics that could transform into mundane items and eat unaware persons that got too close to them. Irovetti reminded her of that, in a way.
"An art contest sounds delightful. What pool are the participants being drawn?" She inquires, pushing the thought of Irovetti's crown sprouting teeth out of her mind.
Irovetti looks slightly puzzled at Rudabeh's question as he answers, "From the Academy, of course. No foreigners deigned to reply to my invitations, hence my surprise when that other groups arrived." He smiles then, a twinkle in his sharp eyes, "However, I doubt any of them go in for art. So no, it will be my private stable competing for prizes today."
Irovetti waves a hand and an honor guard of soldiers assembles at the base of the steps. The old man holds out an arm, bejeweled walking stick in the other. "My men will make sure we don't have to deal with the harassments of the crowd. While I enjoy the lively atmosphere, I doubt either of us which to truly rub shoulders with visiting peasants and shopkeepers. if you wish, I could summon the carriage?"
Rudabeh seems a little disappointed, innocently questioning his decision. "Why not open the event to the public? Surely all the splendid decoration you have given your city has inspired your populace to create. You may find hidden talent living within your own borders." Though, considering how much Irovetti spends on his artists, it at least made sense he wanted to enjoy their talents. Still, she hoped the works were at least visible to the public, this being a festival and all.
She is also a little put off by the ring of guards surrounding them, but again it was Irovetti's decision, not hers. "Actually, I was hoping to meet your citizens at some point, whether they be day-laborer or banker." The paladin expresses her opinion without pushing it, clearly not making a request of it. "I take great joy in getting to know different communities, participating in their customs, and seeing their daily lives. Alseta is very clear on the matter; to foster growth and cooperation in a community we must engage with its people, no matter their standing. For if we do not understand the struggles of their daily lives, how are we supposed to settle their disputes in a way that benefits all?"
After expounding on the philosophies of Alseta, she adds "Of course, I can meet them after my duties are complete for the day." The paladin did need to find a armorer to clean and fix her armor, or a wizard if she wanted a quick turnover.
Lifting a hand to still the thought of taking the carriage, she politely declines. "No thank you, the weather is quite pleasant. Hot days bother me, but not much else."
The king of Pitax takes Rudabeh's arm (which she only extended to ward offer the carriage offer) and proceeds to walk down the steps.
At her remark about the artists Irovetti honestly looks puzzled, forehead wrinkling. "Open it to the public. What, you expect a rancher or water guide to paint you a landscape? Do you really think that a common man understands the interplay of Scolvii's Theory of Colors or really understands the mechanisms of perspective?" he actually laughs at the conceit of a dirt farmer creating a work of art. "Or maybe a fishwife who grapples with the symbolism of the Inner and Outer Divine?"
He chuckles to himself as they descend. "No, of course not. If any member of the public would enter, why would we bother with the Academy? It takes a finely trained mind to create true art, one honed by the lessons of the past and guided by their lessons. You mentioned your brother was an artist, yes? Surely he trained before he entered grand contests?"
When Rudabeh mentions she wishes to mingle with the common people he nods, "Of course! I would not have it any other way. My people deserve to see the good the Pact is doing and to meet with you. I will have a suitably discreet guard or two go with you. As you saw just a few moments ago, Pitax can be a dangerous place for the honest and good."
Rudabeh blinks in surprise as the king takes her arm, though she does not immediately resist. She knew at this point she was being paraded around, but this was a bit too much.
As they reach the bottom of the stairs she politely slips her arm out of his grasp. "Thank you for the gesture, but I prefer to have my sword arm free. While your guards will certainly keep us safe, the servants of Chaos are, by their nature, unpredictable, and I am sworn to fight them should they spontaneously arise." Is her excuse, which is technically true; for a Paladin of Alseta, that is the best kind of true.
"In any case, while I agree with you that a fishmonger may not be able to cite the latest theories on art, many people have natural talents waiting to shine through, like a gemcutterpolishing a ruby." She says, returning to the topic at hand with small gestures as she speaks. "My brother Ondev is actually a prime example. He has had absolutely no formal training other than what my mother, who is a jeweler, may have accidently taught him. One of my earliest memories is my mother giving toddler Ondev some scraps of coral she couldn't use, and instead of sticking it into his mouth like most children I watched him break pieces off and arrange them into beautiful patterns that caught the sunlight with exquisite beauty! He's always been like that. Concepts taught in prestigious institutions like your Academy come to him naturally, as if gifted from Shelyn, yet he is entirely secular."
While obviously very proud of her brother, she realizes she was rambling. "Ah, my point is that sometimes talent can supercede training, but it must be discovered. Once a talented individual is found, they can become even greater with proper mentorship."
Rudabeh puts her hands together and leans towards the king, now truly pitching an idea. "Think of it this way. You could sponser young, talented, but untrained artists from right here in Pitax, selected from the populace by their entries into your contests. With proper guidance from your Academy, Pitax could not only be famous for its art, but be famous for its artists."
Irovetti silently ponders this as the soldiers circle around, creating a ward of steel and leather between the King and his fellow citizens. The people seem used to this, but many stare openly at Irovetti, obviously not often getting to see the older man up close.
"It is an interesting idea." He turns and scans the stage. Rudabeh glances back and sees Druxan hurrying up, the servant/chamberlain who guided Rudabeh from the docks.....had it only been yesterday? The man sidles through the ringed soldiers, a handkerchief pressed to his nose. Apparently his cold had gotten worse.
Irovetti turns back to Rudabeh, "This art idea, would it be something the Pact would be interested in? A joint partnership of some type? Maybe Veleda would be interested in helping train such a cadre of young artists. Maybe even hosting them in Daggermark part of the year, with Pitax paying room and board of course."
He nods to Druxan who quickly withdraws some parchment and starts taking notes, as if they were in a quiet office and not standing in the middle of a crowded square full of shouting people.
Druxan's sudden crab-like scuttling into their midst was a bit of a surprise. How did he know to follow us? Is he just that good at his job, or is Irovetti capable of sending magical messages as well?
She takes a bit of pity on the sick man, but the paladin has only been blessed with the ability to heal physical wounds. As such, she continues discussing the joint educational opportunity with Irovetti. "I believe she would be interested. If you have been to The Grove in Daggermark, it is a place of incredible beauty, designed and grown by Veleda herself. I would be happy to discuss such a program with her." Rudabeh seems to be just at home encouraging these ideas in the middle of the crowded street as Druxan is taking notes about them.
"You have an incredible array of sculptors and painters already, but perhaps with the Pact's druids as tutors, you could expand into landscape design, gardening, parks, hedge mazes as well? Add a bit of green to the capital. The druids of Alseta are some of the finest shrubbers in the River Kingdoms, after all." She adds after a bit of thought on potential applications, clear blue eyes glittering like low-surf pearls in the morning sun.
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Irovetti looks over the assembled people, dressed in every color of the rainbow and then some. It seems to fill him with power and contentment to see so many people turn out to look in awe at what he organized.
He nods to Druxan and says, "An interesting idea. We shall explore it. Now, let us walk."
With the soldiers leading the way they begin to cross the large plaza, not following the same route as the Parade of Wonders, which veers off down another street. Irovetti keeps up a light banter as they walk, talking of art, asking questions about the Pact and Rudabeh's childhood. He seems to know little of Outsea but his questions are penetratingly perceptive.
The guards are not gentle as they push through the crowds. While most people quickly scurry aside, in some places they are too closely packed or simply don't seem them coming. When this happens the brutal faced men push and shove, sometimes even using their clubs to lever people out of the way. Rudabeh sees no cracked heads or broken bones but probably a few bruises to the slow or inattentive.
Happily the crowd is starting to thin out as many follow the parade while others stream down the side streets where it appears there are stalls, entertainments and activities gathered, specially set up for the day. One street seems to only be food vendors, selling everything from ivory colored stuffed pastry to greasy simmering soups served in bowls of bread. The scents wafting out make Rudabeh's mouth water, and she detects the usual smell of fresh caught fish and other seafood.
Another alley seems to be made up mostly of games of chance, where men and women throw balls, toss hoops or guess the fall of thrown sticks. Gambling seems to be quite popular and Rudabeh sees everything from copper pennies to live chickens being wagered. Liquor also seems to flow liberally in this area.
All around children clamber up stairs, onto railings, even running from rooftop to rooftop. Street performers of all stripes regale the crowds with stories, sleight of hand, magic shows and even puppetry. One man, who looks of exotic birth, shoots fire out of his mouth, spurting into the sky in a blaze of orange and red flames.
The walk along the streets of Pitax was in all a pleasant one for Rudabeh. She was able to disconnect herself from all the politics and simply enjoy chatting with Irovettifor once, speaking freely about her experiences within the Pact, her storied youth (which lasted perhaps a long as Irovetti has been alive), and her multitude of adventures as a paladin.
She says nothing about the roughness of the guards as they push through the crowd, mostly because it could be far worse. Briefly, the undine wonders if it is worse when she's not here, before convincing herself that Irovetti probably doesn't leave the First Palace very often in any case.
Taller than most in the crowd, her head swivels back and forth, catching as many aspects of the community as she can in such a short time. Her fin-like ears tilt back and forth, seeking to hear and understand the different voices surrounding her when she's not talking to Irovetti.
The sights and sounds of festivities, along with happy people and bustling trade fill the undine with joy, and she would have found it difficult to focus on any one aspect of the humanity swirling about if actvities had not been organized by street. The intrinsic order of streets pleases something deep inside her, a longing for structure and cooperation that had been the fuel of her burning faith in Alseta.
Though it was covered up by the cacophony of the crowd, her stomach grumbles loudly as the scents of the food stalls reaches her nose. She hadn't broken fast yet, and her stomach was complaining loudly about not indulging when food was so close. Even so, she does not complain or stop their procession, but she does make a mental note to try that soup in the bread bowl later...
Rudabeh moves along inside the ring of guards, taking in the sights, sounds and smells of the festival. She eyes the food stalls with a keen interest, making mental notes to return later perhaps. Irovetti is perceptive however and his flashing eyes lock with hers and he says, "Hungry? I suppose you missed breakfast in the rush this morning. Please, if you wish to stop, merely say so. We are not in a hurry." he idly waves to one of the guards who begins clearing a way to the front of a line.
They exit the food vendor street and enter one of story-tellers, street performers, and bards all declaiming. While most seem to be locals, there are a few obvious exotics including, to Rudabeh's delight, a fellow undine telling what appears to be an engrossing story about hunting whales. Irovetti doesn't pause however, but sweeps past bards using light and shadow to create tiny moving scenes, an old Kellid druid beating a drum and telling tales of the times before the River Kingdoms and a young female dwarf belting out Dwarven history sagas.
The king of Pitax does slow in front of a young man with a simple table and backdrop. The pale skinny man's hands move over the table with speed, flipping cards and moving rubber balls around. He jokes with a small crowd around him, doing minor sleight of hand and turning Harrow Cards.
Irovetti sniffs, "Charlatan. In a world with real magic, why do they bother with cheap trash?" His eyes narrow as the man calls to the crowd to find a certain card in a three card monty.
irvoetti smiles grimly, and with a flick of his wrist, uses some magic to draw the card from the performer's sleeve. The man's patter falls silent as his eyes travel from the floating card to Irvoetti's face.
"I think it was this one." Irovetti then turns away, letting the card fall silently to the ground. He turns to Druxan, "Put him on the list."
The crowd around the street performer grows silent, and looking at Irovetti, slowly starts to break up and go to other performers.
Ah... well." Rudabeh mutters, ears folding down in embarrassment from being caught shamelessly eyeing the food.
An interal struggle takes place as Irovetti is already waving a to a guard to clear the way. I do not want to be a burden, but if we are in no hurry... Her stomach was about to win the battle until she notices the guard pushing people out of line so they could muscle their way to the front of the stall.
The undine's heart beats down her rumbling stomach, and with a frown Rudabeh shakes her head. "No, I'm fine. It's my own fault there was not time for breakfast. A little pennance, especially fasting, stimulates the soul." She says, ending her justifcation with a small smile, for she had already convinced herself it was better this way.
The storytellers bring Rudabeh great delight, and she defintely tries to make eye contact with the other undine amongst the crowd. I wonder what colony they belong to? I know all the undines in Outsea... perhaps they are from lake Hooktongue? Regradless of whether or not she is noticed, with Irovetti's apparent disinterest in storytellers there was no chance to act upon her curiousity. Another mental note to come back later.
She slows and stops as the king does, placing her hands on her hips while watching the young man entertain the crowd. Irovetti's comments draw her gaze for a moment, but in the end she shrugs. "Magic is expensive and difficult to master. Most lack the means or intellect. This is just another form of entertainment, like a bard telling stories."
Rudabeh's cool blue eyes watch the young man's face as his farce is dismantled, his crowd and livelihood dispersed. A frown forms on her azure lips, looking back to Irovetti. "What is the list?" She inquires, finding the king's actions peevish at best.
When Rudabeh remarks about fasting being good for the soul he chuckles saying, "You won't find many Calsitra clerics saying that. Hanspur also rarely goes in for self-denial." Rudabeh reflects Irovetti seems quite at ease in bouncing between various moral and ethical frameworks.
At Rudbahe;s question Irvoetti smiles, "Nothing too barbaric. Just a list of those who are allowed to engage in commerce in the city. I have little patience with tricksters and charlatans. Does such a stall really add to the festival? Hiding cards up your sleeves to rook witless peasants?" Irovetti snorts, "We can either get a real job or go somewhere else."
They soon make their way farther up the alley, and Rudabeh catches snatches of stories, legends, and tales of all sorts. Some are memoirs, others traditional and a few are religious stories that are so frequently told the audience recites along. Irovetti ignores most of it, but his eyes are everywhere, darting, examining. Rudabeh has a feeling little escapes his notice.
The King freezes near the end of the story-telling area, eyes locked on an older man near the edge of the alley. He is reciting poetry, with a loud and strong voice, combined with outrageous, quick change outfits which he slides in and out of behind a shadowed screen. Rudabeh can't hear much of it, but it seems to be humorous adult takes of children's poems.
Irovetti's face hardens. "He is performing today?" His voice is quiet and aimed toward Druxan.
The aide looks nervous and says, 'Um, yes. He said he'd preform for free to avoid the, um, list."
Irovetti's eyes narrow, "Clever. Have someone visit him tonight and make our case that he should preform somewhere else." His tone is cold but steady. Then he shakes his head and turns to Rudabeh, "Sorry about all this administration. One puts much work into creating a worthy event but details constantly crop up throughout. Please, let us go on." But his eyes linger on the poet, who seems to avoid making eye contact with the king's entourage.
Rudabeh nods at Irovetti's exposition on his sinister-sounding list. "Ah, I see. An excellent way to control the kind of commerce that is going on in your city. Can these barred individuals find other forms of employment, or are they only prevented from engaging in certain professions? What is the pushinment for violating the list?" She says, clearly respecting the idea of using economic penalties instead of simply having people beat up or humiliated, and is curious for more information.
Her ears perk as the sounds of stories flood in from every direction, the pointed tip of her unscarred ear adding another inch to her already above average height. The snippets of religious stories catch her interest, having spent her youth being tutored in the ways of the faith by the halfling cleric of Desna Rose Headstrong. A small smile edges on her lips as she remembers the kind hafling telling her all the ancient stories that currently floated through the air.
Rudabeh nearly runs into one of the guards that encircled them as Irovetti suddenly stops; the troops were clearly more in tune with their king's actions than her. She whips her head around briefly to see if there was any danger, before following Irovetti's gaze to the poet that was rapidly changing costumes every few seconds.
The exchangge between Irovetti and Druxan causes Rudabeh's brows to furrow. "I do not mind." She says as they continue walking. "It is important I understand the inner machinations of each kingdom in the Pact if I am to even be a footnote by Veleda's name in the annuls of history."
Something is clearly bothering the paladin, though, and the more she thinks about it the tighter her chest feels. "Forgive my meddling, but if that man is performing without pay to be in accordance with your laws, then he is merely expressing himself through his acts." She says carefully as she sppeaks her mind, laying the groundwork of logic for her case. "Even if he is not directly criticizing you or your government, if you have him chased out of the city for the sole purpose of preventing his form of expression, you could very easily be accused of obstructing the man's right to Say What You Will, I Live Free."
Rudabeh's head turns to Irovetti, and her expression would certainly be foreign to him thus far. Her brows are furrowed, and her usually relaxed and friendly eyes have hardened into sapphires by the pursuit of justice and law. "I do not want you to be accused of violating the River Freedoms, King Irovetti." Her tone is firm and cautioning; yet it belies an undercurrent of helpfulness, like a guard giving a waif a chance to put back a stolen apple.
Irovetti who was already starting to walk, stops and turns toward Rudabeh. His eyes fix on her, judging the undine paladin carefully, a mixture of penetration and observation. The guards fall silent and still, while Druxan falls back, giving the King and Rudabeh a small area of silence.
The king's voice is low and soft,"That is a dangerous accusation to make, paladin of Outsea. I am no barbarian, no criminal. I merely instructed my aide to have a talk with a performer about his poor artistic choices. It is hardly a matter of the Freedoms, a set of rules I take very seriously. Indeed, Pitax, under my guidance, has strongly supported the Pact's views on the River Freedoms."
His own eyes are a match for Rudabeh's and are unflinching, but he says nothing else. The older man is unbowed however, jaw set while facing the taller undine.
"It is a matter of the Freedoms. Rudabeh says firmly knowing she has turned her tiny single-masted sloop directly into the path of a growing squall. "If he is following your laws and gaining no benefit from his performance, his only motivation must be the art and expression itself. Poor taste or not, if you inform the man he cannot perform in the city at all, you, the embodiment of Pitax government, are effectively silencing him. It is your actions, not your words, that matter in this scenario."
In her mind, she completely unfurls the sail and clings to the rudder with both arms. In reality, the undine sighs and spreads out her hands, eyes lightening as she switches from hardline speech to soft reason. "It is because you are such a vocally supportive member of Pact I am advising you not to do this. We need more rulers like you; ones that put their faith in the Pact, value order under their rule, and maintain the established peace. Which is why I do not want to see you torn apart by an angry mob one day for violating the River Freedoms."
She is not backing down, but is appealing to his sense of stability. "If you kicked this one man out of the city, I doubt anything would happen. But he may join other discontents in a great flammable pile, and one day a supressed person will a spark, setting off the whole lot. I know it may seem I'm making a reef out of a piece of coral, but it is better to never stack the kindling than to try and stomp out the flames." Rudabeh's voice softens to a sad timbre, mentally closing her eyes and sailing straight into the storm, hoping there is sunshine on the other side. "I have seen the flames of revolution first hand. I do not want to see Pitax go through the same."
It had been a long time since Rudabeh had sailed the sea. The rivers and swamps of the River Kingdoms could be treacherous but they were nothing like the sea unleashed. As she faced Irovetti down, that old sinking feeling in her stomach, the one that always arrived with dark skies and high waves, returned.
There had been an old whaler Rudabeh had met in passing. His looks and name were forgotten but one phrase he used had stuck with the paladin for many years now.
“The good seaman weathers the storm he cannot avoid, and avoids the storm he cannot weather.”
For all that Irovetti doesn't look very imposing. A short, aging man, tightly gripping a jeweled staff. Expensive, brightly colored robes that, close up, look garish and overdone. The man barely came up to Rudabeh's shoulder. The longest part of a physical fight would be drawing her sword. And yet....she locked with his sharp eyes and her senses, honed from years of travel, violence and diplomacy, shouted to herDanger!.
"A less generous man might take that as a threat." Irovetti says lightly, voice still low. But a trusted, experienced arbiter of the Pact of Years would never truly say such a thing without any evidence. Such a move would surely outrage every ruler in the River Kingdoms, and many in the Pact itself."[/b]
He raises an eyebrow, "I would hope that Veleda would be one of those? At least that has been my understanding so far. Was I perhaps...incorrect?" There is a sense of a deeper question here, something lurking unsaid, out of sight.
"You misunderstand me. It is not a threat, and has nothing to do with me or the Pact." Rudabeh's ultramarine tongue flicks over her lips with a sigh, looking away for a brief moment as she considers her options. She was ignoring the old whaler's advice, sailing straight into a storm that she could have easily avoided, and she knew her pig-headed approach to law and order was responsible for it. A wiser undine, a more shrewd disciple of Alseta, would have waited to discuss this later, thought through what they were going to say, but she charged in headfirst like it was some kind of street brawl.
I cannot pick a side between Irovetti and the rebels. But I can do my best to prevent a clash from occuring. She justifies her actions before drawing a breath and looking back at Irovetti with a concerned face.
"I am trying to help you," the paladin says sincerely, enunciating clearly, "though you may not interpret it as such now."
"There is something stirring in Pitax. Even if you vocally support the Freedoms, if your actions continue to peck at the edges of them, such as kicking that poet out of the city simply because you find his work poor taste, the people will eventually turn against you. There is no rebel army or the threat of civil war hanging over the land. It may take months or years for it to reach that level, but in only a day I have seen and heard the growing discontent. I feel you unknowingly walk a path to your own destruction." Her voice was full of warning, as she attempted to set Irovetti on a path to change his ways for the good of everyone.
"Please." She intones quitely, not backing down but avoiding aggressive speech. "All I ask is for you to begin reflecting on your actions concerning the public and how they could be interpreted. I am willing to help, but you must first want help."
Irovetti takes these words in evenly, without any emotion Rudabeh can tell. She has faced any number of traders, diplomats, nobles and lawyers in your years and Irovetti has one of the better card faces. Only his fingers rising and falling on the jeweled staff reveals his anxiety at the current conversation.
However, at Rudabeh'as last words something changes. The ruler does not relax, exactly, but he seems to grow more at ease, like a man finding a sandbank he expected or an undine finding a steady current. A person on familiar ground.
"'Something stirring?' Yes. Perhaps it is time to move this conversation to a place better suited to such serious discussion." he says grimly, then turns to Druxan, raising his voice. "Find us a place to speak, indoors, private."
The aide hurries off, face scanning the storefronts and buildings nearby. Irovetti steps over and has a few quiet words with the guards, his muttering too low for even Rudabeh's ears to hear. That sinking feeling rises in her stomach. What quicksand was she stepping into?
Quickly Druxan returns and leads the group to a tavern on the edge of a square. The crowds part around them easily, a maze of peasants, merchants and travelers. Irovetti seems lost in his thoughts as he strides along, eyes fixed on some far off point or thought. He says nothing as they walk.
The tavern is a large one, a white washed building of four walls and ringed by a wide portico. A painted sign out front proclaims it the 'Singing Swan', and it looks clean and expensive. The guards go in first, and quickly eject the few people inside. Rudabeh does see a a bag of gold handed over though, so at least it is isn't total corruption.
Quickly, Irovetti and Rudabeh are ushered through the large, empty common room, into a spacious, well lit side room. The floor is scrubbed tile and the walls white plaster. The furniture is a few small round tables with wooden chairs. A bottle of wine and a few glasses rests on a sideboard, glittering in the morning sun streaming through skylights.
The guards and Druxan wait outside as the King and the paladin walk in. The older man locks the door behind them before finding a chair. he sits down easily, then focuses on Rudabeh.
"This is more private." he gestures for Rudabeh to sit if she wishes then goes on, "You speak of growing discontent? This is a serious claim and one that I dearly wish to hear more of. Perhaps we can speak of it in detail?"
Rudabeh feels a growing sense of unease and dread as they silently walk along the streets of Pitax.
What have you done? She thinks, agonizing over her decision to face down Irovetti over the silencing of hte poet. Though, it wasn't really a choice, it was more.. instictive. Something inside of her demanded justice, spurring her om. The only things she could blame were her empty stomach or the force deep in her soul that made her a paladin. You had to blurt it out right then, though? You couldn't have waited, though about what to say? This isn't a fight, you don't have to go rushing in!
All manner of internalized chastizations run through her mind until they enter the 'Singing Swan', at which point she merely observes the surroundings with a regretful face. Walking towards the side room, Rudabeh runs a hand over her forehead and steels herself for the coming discussion. Veleda says she makes it all up as she goes along sometimes. Is that what I'm doing? Goddess above, forgive me, for this is not my finest hour.
Sitting down at the table, she nearly gets her scabbard stuck in the backing of the chair, re-adjusting to sit slightly off center. "I cannot go into detail. I am bound by my oaths to not share information concerning arbitrations, confessions, or those wishing to remain anonymous." She says with the familarity of a rote phrase, wanting to make it clear she was not going to be giving names, places, or any identifying information.
The paladin places her elbows on the table, lacing her fingers together at chin height. "However, I can say that there is a growing discontent with your leadership in Pitax. While speaking with the disillusioned, there were accusations against you concerning violations of the River Freedoms making you unfit to rule. No evidence was put forth other than a single first hand account and some other stories."
Her scarred, unwebbed fingers spread apart into a plainative gesture. "As such, I was unconvinced to take any kind of action against you. Indeed, to do so would be foolish," she says, her voice raising in timbre, "for such flimsy accusations pale in comparison to your dedication and benefit to the Pact."
Leaning back, Rudabeh sighs lightly, closing her eyes for a momemnt. "However," Limpid eyes open and focus on the king before her, voice hardening slightly. "After witnessing your plans for that poet, I now see the source of discontent, and what the disillusioned were trying to explain to me. I know it is not your intention, but your desire to shape the image of Pitax into one of your own creation is nibbling at the edges of the Freedoms."
She pressses a hand over her heart. "Those sensitive to the few natrual laws of the River Kingdoms, such as myself, or those that have grievances against you, such as anyone discontented with your rule, will have an easy time pointing fingers and calling out violations of the Freedoms in an effort to undermine your rule."
Rudabeh slides her hands back onto the table, leaning towards Irovetti once moer. "This is your land. You make all the laws besides the River Freedoms. All I can do is advise you, for your own sake and the sake of the Pact. If you continue to silence persons for expressing themselves, the number of discontent will grow. I ask you to please reflect on your actions and change how you manage the image of both Pitax and yourself. With the way things are now, you merely give ammunition to those that dislike your rule."
If I can get him to change his ways just enough that the rebels lack a solid platform, perhaps I can prevent the growing discontent from spilling over into a full scale revolution one day. Is her only comforting thought as she sails back into the storm.