Asfal twitches, shudders really, his hand remaining unmoving at his pocket. His lips tighten, his brow furrows. He scratches at his temple with his other hand, eyes closed. He opens them with a glare, two golden irises framed within furious wide eyes. His voice is tame, quiet, withdrawn. “We must not share the same circles. Shame we never might. I hear ‘appearances make the man.’ from mine.” He ends the statement with a smile, his brow easing. He takes a deep breath, turning away from the Oracle. He comforts himself in recited talks of business.
“I trade largely with places Faraway. Dancing between currencies and exchanging goods that are unknown in both value and meaning. ” He seems soothed, pausing to evaluate his circumstances. “The company is as much the child of my parents as I. We are their legacy. Another time and I will tell you more. ”
“If it pleases you captain, I will remove my ring. In private. Away from prying eyes.” He takes a step toward the kitchen. “Come, von Moltke. See this 'imposter' for what he really is.”
The captain grins widely. His teeth appear the same blue color as his stained lips. "Who needs detectives when outstanding Durendale citizens do the job just as well!" he chirps. Helmuth tilts his head to Halcyon in appreciation in the matter, seemingly pleased with her actions. “It will be my pleasure. Move along, golden boy.” Helmuth holsters his pistol though pulls a large rifle from the folds of his bandolier. He rests the stock against the inside of his elbow, the barrel pointing straight to the ceiling. Asfal scoffs at the mention of his Galatian locks. He enters the kitchen, Helmuth behind him. The door closes. With the departure of the Helmuth, Halcyon and Asfal, Raphael now stands alone.
Emile is solemn as he watches the scene between Asfal and Halcyon unfold. He appears irked, arms crossed, restraining himself from interfering. He bites his tongue, returning to the conversation. “Eduard loved her you know.” He lets the statement hang in the air. He trails the lull without any tone or emotion. “It wasn’t returned, of course.” Another pause. “But it is clear, no? Those who’ve known love must see it.” Estelle nods, perhaps seeing it too, perhaps just an acknowledging kindness.
“I don’t know much on holy warriors, but if the man lost a friend, a love and a life in a single moment this evening... If Eduard does not crack, he is unbreakable.”
“Galatian Guardians are made to be as such.” Estelle analyzes Emile. She tries to peer into him, trying to determine if the lively, eccentric host of the hours before is the same as the one before her. “Perhaps in time he will feel liberated by this all.”
Emile gives her a look. His eyes dash to Eduard on the chair beside the coatroom. Before he can utter a word, Estelle continues. “He is relieved of countless geases after all. The rights and freedoms a Guardian sacrifices is nigh unethical. Slavery almost. I am by no means saying her death is a blessing in the slightest. Only that...” She thinks as she turns to look toward the bodyguard. It appears his attention is currently elsewhere. “Well, he is free now, maybe for the first time in his life.”
Emile winces slightly on the mention of geases. He opens his mouth to retort, but closes it, finding not a thought on the subject that he would like to discuss. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, gives a quick run of his hand over his scalp, and lurches over to grab a nearby chair. He forms words as he sits.
“Well, free or not, Eduard’s predicament brings up another subject.” His words are hushed now, clear to be only heard by the four of them. “Galatian justice,” he begins. “As the sun sets on this day and as tomorrow’s rises, who will our Galatian neighbors seek to tribulate? Short of the civil war, this may be the darkest day of Galatian history.”
Caroline speaks to her sister as Halcyon approaches. “...I figured it meant change or travel, I don't think they are that literal. I can go through auntie’s books later to make sure.” Caroline spots her fellow oracle. She lifts herself from the recesses of her chair, landing upon her dainty feet. Her dress dances as she rises, swirling, spiraling like waves at sea. “Um, are you to be spending the night here then?” She peers at the Asfal, watching him lead Helmuth to the kitchen. If she is aware of the circumstances, she isn’t saying a word. She returns her gaze to Halcyon.
It is 11:46 PM. There are 14 minutes until the New Year.
Halcyon smiles sincerely at Caroline's question. "A sleep-over? My older sisters were allowed to stay at the houses of their friends, but I was never invited and I had no such friends to invite me. I would be happy to stay here tonight, and perhaps that will prove to be the safest course, but let's see what happens next." She glances at Asfal and Helmuth and then at Eduard.
"I would love to get up to the balcony on the top floor and see if we can see anything going on in the city, fireworks if we're lucky. I don't know if you heard," and at this point, Halcyon lowers her voice to speak just to the two sisters, "but Galatians were attacked all over the city. There might be other violence, perhaps in retaliation." Halcyon watches Asfal leave the room with Helmuth as she talks, unaware that her hands grip her staff with unusual tension.
Seth nods along when Emile mentions how Eduard was in love with Abigail. "The repercussions and results of this event will be here for a long time. This is a day that will be in history books, and we are in the forefront of it. What we do about this, however will make even more important history."
Caroline's face lightens at the mention of a sleep-over. “Well, um, if you need someone to tell you what can be seen from up there… I am sure the balcony will be safe.”
Beatrice gives her sister a smile. “Well little Caroline, I’ve never seen you talk this much since...” The middle de Beaux places her hand to her chin, tapping a finger to her lips in thought. “Well, ever really. Started your New Year’s resolution early?”
Caroline is flustered, turning her head to the floor. She plays with the hem of her dress, patting at it with her fingers as she speaks. “Qxi - no, um, no. It is, um,” she fights to keep her tongue in a language she knows. She looks up to Halcyon for a moment. With a smile she returns to gazing at the floor beneath her. “Well, I’m not sure you’d understand, but I feel comfort with another seer...”
Beatrice rises from her seat now with a smile. She picks at a splotch of paint dried on her outfit, chipping it away with colored nails. The elder sister fails to keep herself from grinning.
“And pray the historians cast us in a favorable light. Pray the texts will remember the saviors and protectors of tonight and not dwell solely on the devils that hide in this city's shadows.”
Emile watches the door open once more to the kitchen. Neither Asfal nor Helmuth looks happy or pleased. The host breathes a sigh of relief.
After around thirty seconds of being in the kitchen, Helmuth exits, pale perhaps green in the face. His rifle is around his shoulder now. Asfal follows behind, ring on once more, twisting it with his other hand’s thumb and index finger. He looks dismayed and guarded, placing himself on a wall by the kitchen, closer to servants than guests.
Helmuth first looks to Seth, curling a finger inward to beckon him. “Varianna, come, we must discuss how this evening will play out.” Seth in tow, Helmuth searches the crowd once more. “You saw the blonde-boy’s little stunt earlier, yes? Was found to be in disguise by your Oracle friend.”
Helmuth spots the oracle. He walks over, standing between her and Caroline. “Needn’t worry...” he lets out slowly. He speaks in a cautious whisper, “a walking assortment of pox and scars, warts and blemishes. Proof not all Galatian men are pretty boys.” He looks over at Asfal with what appears to be pity, coughs into his hand lightly, and turns back to Halcyon and Seth. “Pray I don’t get catch what he has. Else I’ll be spending a year’s pay buying a similar ring of my own.”
The captain grimaces. It appears he very much wanted something different from Asfal. “Well, we explored the possibility. Was hoping he would be a vamp-blooded dhampir or an under-elf. Though with a face like his, it may be better for him if it was that way.” Helmuth voices rises back to a normal level. He still appears drained from his kitchen interaction.
“Anymore you would like to investigate? I’d like to get some backup sooner than later.” He leans in once more as he begins speaking softly. “Should I keep a special eye on Asfal and Vincent still?”
Marcus begins to tell a story, and Ellen seems to enjoy it. Her laugh seems infectious, as Bertrand gravitates towards them to listen as well. Darius follows, glad that someone is in high spirits besides him. Marcus continues.
“... So it was the first time I served drinks to a druid in a bestial form, the patrons would try to out-drink the bear and it took a dozen of them passing out before she shifted back with a hiccup. I’ve served many a druid now, some of their companions even, I figure it must be a tame and tedious life at the Botany Gardens so they make up for the excitement at my tavern... ”
Halcyon regards Asfal with an expressionless gaze, still not sure what to make of the man. She remembered he was displaying symptoms of some illness at the start of the evening, but as time when on, she noticed this less and less, even wondering at one point if the illness had been an act that he had forgotten to maintain. His probing of thoughts was still suspicious, but perhaps he was trying to help in his own way.
She sighed and shrugged inwardly. It was an unfortunate necessity to reveal his secret, even if only to one or two people, but she could hardly blame herself for her suspicions, given the events of the evening. Either he would forgive or he wouldn't. At worst she lost a potential client. But she also decided she would look into his ancestry and see what she could find out about him from Jean-Tom.
At this point, she finally felt spent. The energy that seemed to infuse her body earlier now seemed to leave her entirely and she felt exhausted, both physically and emotionally. And there was still the worry about what these events foretold for Roland and relations with Galatia. But that would doubtless mean her business would pick up as people sought an advantage in learning what was coming for political or business advantage.
She tried to forget about those worries and leave them for the future. She set a hand on Caroline's and squeezed. "Give yourself time, little one. An oracle's curse can be managed with time. You'll see. Let's see if we can get to that balcony and watch the fireworks. But let's be discrete. There might still be people who fear exposure."
Before leaving the dining room, Halcyon walks up to Eduard and hands him one of her cards, saying, "If there is anything I can do, please contact me. I'll do what I can, pro bono."
She also makes sure she passes Vincent and takes the chance to say to him, "I hope we may meet again, under more pleasant circumstances." She hands him one of her cards and adds, "I'd like to finish that dance or at least start a new one."
She drifts over to the door to the trophy room, stands with Caroline (and Beatrice, if she wants to come along) for a little while chatting, and then they slip into the room quietly and begin to make their way to the stairs and on up to the highest balcony.
Seth follows Helmuth as he talks and listens to everything he has to say before responding. "I don't have anything I would like to pursue for this investigation. I will try to get some of my men as fast as possible, but it will likely be a bit. Most likely (time) to (another time) minutes."
Raphael watches Asfal depart with Helmuth, his easy smile straining slightly. He replies to the guard captain as he goes, "I did only what I felt was my duty to a city and country I love. I hope that justice is being well served by my intervention this evening."
Helmuth's seeming pleasure at Asfal's capitulation and the resignation in the voice of a man who has otherwise been acting honestly has soured Raphael's mood. There is a hint of anger in his eyes that wasn't there before.
Raphael stands alone for a time, seemingly content to be left alone with his thoughts. Even the talk of political ramifications, which would normally interest him greatly, does not break his silence. Perhaps it was for the best, but likely it was not. Perhaps I have been played for a fool by a boy barely from his apron strings and now playing the part of the 'valiant and merciless captain of the guard'. He watches, out of earshot, as Helmuth reports his discovery to Halcyon. Finding that he has little energy left for intrigue and investigation, he makes his casual way to the circle where Estelle and Emile still speak. "I apologize for rushing off so abruptly. I thought to forestall more anger and potentially violence. I was not entirely successful, but I suppose I am no miracle worker." Finally seeming to wake from his stupor, he smiles again, saying, "Forgive me, the night has been trying and I find myself flagging as we approach midnight. I hope that things are well for both of you, Monsieur de Beaux, Estelle. Marcus is telling one of his better stories, I think, though he has enough that I can't recall them all. If there is room for a little more light in your evening, perhaps we might have a listen?" By the end, it's fairly clear that Raphael is directing most of the conversation towards Estelle and not their host.
Seth ponders for a moment as to which of his mercenaries might be up for the job and then a wave of embarrassment comes over him. He puts his hand on his forehead and drags it down his face with a sigh. "As a matter of fact, I have a few men with me. They should be outside. If you will excuse me a moment, I will go send one of them to go get a few more men."
Seth takes his leave muttering to himself about how could he possibly forget them. He goes outside and approaches them, telling them of the situation. He sends one of them back to his base of operations while the other would follow him back inside towards Helmuth.
Caroline nods her head with a smile. She bounces around the foyer, guiding Halcyon to her guests with a light tug or following in her footsteps, flowing in the wake of the Seer’s dress.
Another crackle of distant fireworks. Some seem to want to invite in the New Year in rather than wait for it. You wonder if such people have endured the same hardships as those in this room.
Eduard grabs Halcyon’s card. He doesn’t say anything, but he gives the paper a look over, a passing glance without a scowl or glare, before tucking it it somewhere in the folds of his armor. He looks at the Oracle, trying to get a sense if she is a good person. His mouth uncurls, no longer a grimace, but may be what passes as a smile for him this evening.
Vincent’s reaction is instantaneous, a quick smirk twirls across him. It turns into a smile, an honest one. “It’d be hard to find poorer circumstances than tonight. Hopefully Gods will remember what we’ve done this evening, and will allow our next dance to be uninterrupted.” He mentions the next dance with a sense of certainty. It seems Vincent has similar wishes. He follows the oracles to the steps. He sifts through his bag, looking for something as he speaks.
“If you ever need a foot in the door somewhere Halcyon, countless families owe us Durants favors.” He removes a white bandage and sharp wedge of flint. He carves an address into the bandage. “I carry all but ink and paper," he says shaking his head. He extends the bandage. ”Don’t hesitate.”
Vincent seems to live close by, less than half an hour’s stroll from where Halcyon lives, bit east of the Crater. He watches the seers ascend, turning back to watching the party after they fade from view. He grins the entire time, drumming on the stair’s railing.
Outside the de Beaux estate, Seth dashes to the stables. The stables are small, only holding half a dozen or so horses a bit off the manor. It seems to be the only building outside of the manor itself. Emile's servants must live on the third floor with the de Beaux family. Two of his mercenaries are midst story when Seth enters, a stableboy tends to some of Emile’s horses as well, trying not to listen to the bragging merc.
“-‘Twas this close to death, I was.” The mercenary man, Gael Favager, sits leaning by the gate of Seth’s horse. He seems comfortable despite having a hand on an old Guard pistol. He is a bit older than Seth, a bit green despite his age. Hasn’t earned a nickname or callsign yet. His hair is sandy and long, almost as long as his stories. He boasts to a vigilant woman holding a lance. She seems unamused by the fable she hears. Her chestnut hair is held tight behind her in a long braid. She wears less armor than both Seth and Gael, but has few scars to prove it.
“So the things tusks are half in me now, half out they were, peekin’ through my back. So I grab the beast, okay? Can’t move, gouged me good, it did, so I grab a hold of it. So there’s me, okay, bleeding over this wild thing, havin' a good grab on it, and me mom and pop can’t stop laughing. I wrestle the thing to the ground, still impalin’ me mind’ja, tie it up with its own leash, and remove the thing from inside me. Like I was sayin’ at the start of the story, you don’t give a boy a forest boar as a pet. Anway, that was me thirteenth birthday, don’t wanna talk about fifteen, that year they -” He’d have continued if the woman didn’t bring a quick hand to salute. He turns, rising to his feet facing Seth. “Boss!”
Seth informs the mercenaries of what is going on. Almost before Seth finished speaking, the woman, Amandina “Dauber” Deschampes, hops onto one of the horses. She nods, giving Seth a glance that tells him that she understands the mission. She has been in the troop for a while now, and while her silence leaves something to be desired, her performance is always admirable.
With a quick spur, she rushes the horse east. The hooves roar against a backdrop of fireworks. Gael and Seth return inside.
“Have the faintest what it’s like with her? ‘Tween her and the silent stableboy, I had to fill the room with conversation for three, I did.” He grins at Seth. “Aight, Boss, give me the orders and I follow ‘em to the letter, I will.”
A member of the troop once tried to give Amandina Deschampes the title of “Diamond,” due to how resilient and tough she was to his advances. She crushed his nose in, and told him that his “unbreakable resolve” was more deserving of the title. The name he tried to give her stuck with him.
Dauber’s title comes after the mud wasps of the same name.. Frequently the wasps go after pesty insects and spiders rather than attack larger prey, and true to her name, Dauber frequently clears out the pesky forces in enemy lines such as mages and archers. While the wasps aren’t aggressive, their sting can leave quite the mark. Her sting however, is more often fatal than not.
Estelle seems pleased by Raphael’s return. When Seth leaves, she offers a curt smiles to Emile and Lucia. She takes slow steps to catch Marcus’ story. She seems more keen on talking with Raphael at the moment.
“It takes more than one person to make a miracle. I’ve seen a hundred men all pray for a single one still not to appear. All my time in Roland and it sad to say I’ve only seen miracles fueled by coin.” She takes a few steps closer to the growing party of listeners. It seems Alexander has already left Aron his final words and has joined the crowd. Alexander still doesn’t appear too happy, though he appears better than the lone Galatian royal. Valentina joins the listeners.
“Yes, a tale or two would be nice. I’m afraid I may have sent Emile into a state of melancholy with our serious topics. Our poor host has lost what spritely energy he once had.” Another couple steps. “So you’ve been quite abuzz with activity tonight. Servants and soldiers, hosts and guests.” She lowers her voice to a whisper to not disturb the Kitsune’s story. “Any deals with devils this evening?” She smiles light heartedly, though peers into the man for a reaction. She laughs when everyone else does with the story, but her ears are elsewhere.
Caroline leads the Oracle up the second staircase. “We might be the only ones who get to enjoy the fireworks.” She smiles, she can’t seem to put it away. The air upstairs is colder, fresher than in the foyer. A chilling breeze refreshes you, breathes life into what has been a stuffy and warm last half an hour. Caroline grabs two chairs from the side of the balcony. The first one she places for Halcyon, the second for herself. “Do you need a blanket? Or maybe the tea is still warm if you’d like?"
The fireworks are prepared nearby, most likely by a party of some sort in the park to the north. The balcony couldn’t have a better view of such a display. While the Guard’s grand display would hardly be seen from here, the fireworks prepared below seem almost like they were made for this party, for this moment. Perhaps they were, perhaps they were Emile’s grand spectacular to end the evening, only to be forgotten the second Abigal hit the floor.
Caroline puts her chair besides Halcyon, arms of the seats touching. The balcony glows a warm pink, and seconds later, a fizzling crackle booms across the northern city sky. The fireworks are too far off to be enjoyed by the blind Oracle, but their colors cause the balcony to glow warmly. A surge of colors: pinks, reds, indigos, greens. As each flash across the sky, their colors are echoed to the balcony. Though muted, toned down to what Halcyon can see nearby, are beautiful. Caroline brightens with excitement, her face beaming as it is filled with the colors of the exploding sky, only to flinch slightly as it thunders. She speaks softly, though her words are still heard among the fireworks.
“You said that a curse can be managed, but you didn’t say conquered or bested.” For the first time in their ascent up the stairs, Caroline’s mouth turns to a frown. Her eyes are wide, two reflective mirrors of the night’s sky. Deep in them Halcyon can see the fireworks. “Can you see what I am seeing, Halcyon?”
Halcyon gratefully accepts Vincent's crudely scrawled address, wraps it carefully and places it into one of her sash pouches with a smile, looking as if it is the first time a man has ever given her such a thing.
When she and Caroline reach the balcony and are seated, Halcyon declines the offer of a blanket or warm drink and settles back in the chair. When she sees the play of colorful lights on the balcony and hears the sounds of the explosions that follow seconds later, she asks Caroline to describe the colors and shapes of the lights. Though Halcyon cannot see the lights directly, she enjoys seeing their effect on Caroline.
Then when Caroline asks if Halcyon can see the fireworks reflected in her eyes, Halcyon realizes there is a way to see the fireworks. She says, "I see such bright beauty. I can also see the fireworks." Halcyon lets the compliment sink in then rummages in her pouch for a small compact with a mirror in it. She looks in the mirror and can see the fireworks reflected in them.
Then she addresses Caroline's earlier question about Oracle curses. "Until I started to learn to be an oracle--a friend of the family began to visit and teach me while claiming she was just teaching me about the harrow deck--I could only see vague shapes of nearby things and then only if there was a lot of contrast. But the longer I studied, the more I could see. At first I could only see things close by but I didn't need any light. With time it has reached out about thirty feet and I suspect it may get better still. But I don't expect to ever be able to see distant things except with tricks like this." She gestures toward the image of a fireworks burst in her mirror.
"I have heard that Oracles with the curse of tongues will always resort to speaking the language they use when under stress. But there are also cases where over time, they could speak more than one language and eventually understand all the languages they hear. So the curse never goes away, but ..."
After watching a few more fireworks go off, Halcyon adds, "If we can figure out what language you are speaking when you get nervous, I can see if I can learn to understand and speak it. Then, at least when we are together, we can still speak and understand each other. And it won't seem any odder than two Rolanders who both speak Old Galatian shifting the conversation to that language, perhaps to frustrate eavesdroppers."
Seth starts walking back towards the house, motioning for Gael to follow. "I'm sure she would love to hear the end of your story." He speaks a bit sarcastically to try and lighten the mood. "A Captain of the Guard here has taken on sight command, and he didn't get the reinforcements he needed. So you will be taking orders from him. Most of it will mostly likely helping escorting people back to their homes and keeping a general order."
Seth moves his hand towards the door, and he stops for just a moment. "If you aren't sure about the orders, just come to me. I will do what I can. And be as professional as possible. We might get a few more clients out of this." Seth opens the door and heads towards Helmuth, with Gael in tow.
"I have one man here, who you can use as you see fit. More should be here in maybe 15 to 20 minutes. Depends on how fast they take to get ready."
Raphael walks slowly alongside Estelle, hands behind his back. He chuckles, replying, "Ah, but don't you know that to an Abadaran all miracles fueled by coin? There is a reason that they call him 'The Gold-Fisted'." Still smiling, he continues, "Truly though, I think you will see that there is progress to be made, no matter how slowly it may be said to come. With a combined effort of will, we can make this beautiful country and city better for all."
He sobers, as his distraction fades and he recalls the evening's chaos, "Of course, there are setbacks and injustices which must be combated." He listens again, surprised by Estelle's concern for their host whose study had so rattled her earlier. It would seem that a heart of gold may be quickly melted again, even if chilled. Emile certainly has had a trying evening, but that map... He chuckles again as she seems to read his thoughts, "I do not think so. Some words I may regret, but nothing that I think warrants that particular title. I did what I felt was my duty, in an effort to bring a horrific criminal to justice. I kept to our laws and have done what I can. We will see if history proves my judgement sound or not. And what of you, Estelle, have you had any less then sterling dealings while I've been away on duty?"
“Orders are to take orders, boss, your ‘structions clear as crystal.” Gael gives a sidewards glance to Seth when he mentions if he isn’t 'sure on any orders.' He doesn’t read into it much, merely giving the man a nod of his head. “Prim and proper, I hear ya, boss. You won’t hear a single cussin’ from me.” Gael follows Seth in, a smile stretches when he reaches the warmth of the foyer.
Gael walks chest forward, strutting like a proud rooster. His chin rises a few inches, head cocked back, eyes lowered to meet those around him. His left elbow juts behind him, arm a rigid triangle, hand clutched on his pistol. In his own way however, he does fit in. His polished armor has a visible shine, and while not intentionally decorated, the bold, sharp design on the plates do appear dashing. While he doesn’t appear grisled or experienced, he does appear dignified for a soldier, if a bit arrogant.
His arm rises for a salute to Helmuth.“Cap-i-taine!” A smile begins to crawl across his face. It is clear Gael has already begun formulating his story for the next time 'war stories' are exchanged. “Your orders, Sir?”
Helmuth would likely question why the soldier was already stationed, perhaps ask why he wasn’t here a half an hour earlier if he wasn’t giddy at the sight of him. “And with an old Guard pistol! It is the red bow that so tightly wraps this present.” He inspects the soldier for a few moments with gleeful anticipation before returning to a demeanor fitting of his rank. “Wonderful, perhaps I will have a secure perimeter a bit past midnight.”
He looks around the foyer for a second, assessing the situation. “Alright then boy,” he starts, addressing the man almost double his age, “I’ll secure the second floor. My men will secure the northern exit and the foyer itself. Take position outside, no assassin will be leaving or entering quite yet.” Gael suppresses a scowl when he hears he will be returning outside. Perhaps he was looking forward to impressing guests, or perhaps he was enjoying the warmth while it lasted. He gives a proud “Yes, Sir!” to Helmuth, shrinking as he walks out to the cold.
“My thanks, Seth. If you deliver an invoice to Headquarters, I’ll have it sorted out immediately. Your assistance will not be forgotten, I assure you.”
In twisting the mirror, Halcyon has a small window into the world past her eyes. Though she looks forward to it, a quick turn of her wrists reveals snippets from the approaching midnight: lights on the wall surrounding the city a flicker, almost in dance. A warm, distant glow in the park from where the fireworks seems to originate. An airborne figure, perhaps an owl or a large bat silhouetted against the pale-orange glow of the clouds above. A rustling in an oak off of the manor in the wind. Caroline adjusts her hair, tucking strands behind her ear. A breeze passes, less refreshing than the last, chilling now. The young seers presses on, though wraps her arms around her torso.
Caroline peers into the mirror, watching it’s reflective surface glisten with the lights of the night sky. She appears amazed, face brighter than when the fireworks lighten her up, eyes wide with reclaimed joy. “And you have no need for candles when you wake!” When Halcyon describes her curse, Caroline nods. She seems familiar with what it entails despite her age. You wonder how many Oracles Emile has arranged to speak with her, perhaps Halcyon being but the most recent name on a long list.
She is flattered when she hears Halcyon proposal to learn her language. Her head looks to her feet, and she kicks them softly on the balcony floor. She almost slips into the language as she speaks its name. “Aqt- Aklo. That’s what one of Emmy’s Society friends told me. He said it isn’t an easy language to learn.” She turns to Halcyon with a grin. “Seems I am lucky then?” She lets out with a giggle.
“I suppose I can help you learn Aklo, though I don’t know if I can really teach it. It is just there for me. Sometimes it slips in when I speak to myself.” Her voice fades almost to a whisper, almost lost in the fireworks. “Sometimes I dream in it.” She turns to Halcyon with a smile. “But every language could be nice if I don’t accidently fall into each one when I get nervous.” She thinks of what tongues she has heard at the gatherings of her brother. Galatian for certain, but others as well. Tongues that come in airy whispers. Speeches whose words hang long after they have been spoken. Languages that twist and wring the tongue to perform. Voices that bounce playfully with pitch and melody. She grins at the thought of knowing them all.
Estelle chuckles “Sterling as silver. But perhaps Abadar has a place in my mind, for I’ve had enough silver interactions his evening and seek more golden ones.” She smiles, hoping the message comes through. “Regardless, most of the interactions have been tasteful. I had a word with the Variannas. He caught me by surprise, I’ve never found an eloquent mercenary until today.” Something hangs in her mind. The office of the host certainly, but more. Raphael caught her interest and with it her eye. She recalls an earlier event, Emile about to speak to the young captain, eyes darting to Raphael before he speaks in his stead.
She listens to the story for a dozen or so seconds. Her voice returns yet again in a whisper. “Devils come in all shapes in this city. Have you heard of a Phistophilus Devil before?” She waits for the shake of his head before continuing . “It is a devil that signs contracts with foolish, desperate men. Men too blinded by their ambition to see what they forfeit for power. I’m only familiar because I’ve heard them compared to Emile in secret. I thought it was a joke at first, though tonight I am uncertain” She appears nonchalant, watching Marcus tell his story. She smiles weakly as he reaches a humorous end to his tale. He is edged on by Darius to tell another one, the porcelain skinned man's face a bright red from laughter.
It is 11:51 PM. There are nine minutes until the New Year. An estimated 15 minutes until Varianna reinforcements arrive.
Seth watches the quick back and forth between Gael and Helmuth. As Gael makes his way back outside and Helmuth brings up the issue of payment Seth responds. "Of course. I will bring it in myself tomorrow or the day after." Seth looks around the foyer for a second before continuing. "My apologies again for not bringing him in earlier. I got so caught up with everything that has happened in the past hour that I completely forgot I brought a few men with me."
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Marcus chuckles and obliges the group of people he had asking for more stories "how about a tale about a group of half elveven sorceresses who got tried the tanzonian rum, I'll never look at a Weather vein again the same way, on second thought, I don't rightly remember much of that one, So instead I'll tell the one where I was robbed a few months after I first got fully set up here, oh yes, it started on a Tuesday if I remember right, I was making my morning rounds getting ready for the day's work, but when I went to take inventory several of our rarer and more valuable vintages were missing, this alarmed me so I took a more detailed inventory and found our coffers were nearly cleaned out as well, thankfully we had just stocked up recently so we were still able to open that day, but I immiedietly contacted the guard, and they couldn't find hide nor hair of the thief, it was briefly suggested that I had simply lost or forgotten that I had already sold the missing supplies, but that was dispelled when I was shown to have meticulous records of sales and deposits" his sister clears her throat from close by and he hastily clarified "or rather my sister kept meticulous records, anyway, this went on with a week, and I had assumed that the thief had split town when I went into the cold room to prepare for a small feast for a couple of halflings on their honeymoon, when I heard a clinking sound, I looked towards the sound and found I had kicked a bottle of '27 merlot into a bottle of red mead, and I looked around and found a nearly dead lizard person, nagaji I believe his race was called, it was the thief, trapped in the ice box when he went to grab some meats, I won't ever forget what he said when he first saw me "one ordder of fffirewhisssky ppleasssse""
"Aklo, eh? As I understand it, that's not a language likely to be spoken in polite society, as it has associations with mostly evil creatures that live in the underdark. On the plus side, very few people probably would recognize it for what it is."
Halcyon watches a new burst of fireworks. But she also sweeps the mirror so that she can survey the buildings and streets that can be seen from the balcony. If there had been simultaneous assaults on Galatians across the city, she expected she might see something different. Not sure what to expect, she says nothing to Caroline and continues the conversation about languages.
"There is nothing to prevent you from learning any language that you want, of course, provided you can find a teacher. I could teach you the lovely language of the elves or Old Galatian. I can check to see if I can find someone who might teach me Aklo, although you and I might be able to work some basics out on our own."
Halcyon pauses as a thought forms and matures. She grins slightly, "Maybe, if you get to the point where you want to do readings for people for pay, you and I could team up. You could keep me close as an 'interpreter'. I could translate your Aklo into common. The customer would not know that the language is born of stress and a curse. To him, it would seem mysterious and exotic. It might help you get past the jitters and develop a clever style. Believe me, there is more to doing readings than divinely inspired information. You need to be part entertainer. If you would care to come to my office, you can observe me doing readings."
Halcyon considers proposing that Caroline work for her as an assistant, but decides that might make it seem like Halcyon's interest in the young woman was something other than a desire for friendship. Halcyon has precious few friends and none who are oracles. This could be the start of a beautiful friendship, she thinks and finds herself humming a gentle melody. Da dum de dum de dum. Da dum de dum de dum....
“A Nagaji, the poor thing,” Estelle speaks out quietly amidst laughter. “It’s blood must have been at a crawl in that cold.” She smiles lightly, shifting her weight. "I wonder if Marcus called the Guard a second time..."
Darius remains flushed, and his laugh strikes through the foyer. He winds down slowly. “Oh how, heh-he, how your bar must bring stories.” He shouts to Emile, calling his name. “Emm, you must keep inviting him, if just to hear the stories fresh as they come!”
Emile smiles as he rises from his chair. He walks to the guests. “You could always be there for them, live the stories instead of listening to them.” The host still looks a bit drained as he walks. His voice betrays him, not quite as chipper or bright as it was earlier this evening/ He steps past Estelle, unaware to her earlier words of him.
Darius claps his hands together once for what must be some gesture of resolve. “I certainly must. A bar full of such life, it’d suit both me and my sister’s hab-”
Agatha cuts him off with a chuckle of her own, placing a hand on her brother’s shoulder. Her nails dig into his shoulders. It seems she knew where he was going as soon as he started talking. She speaks with a voice soothing like lullabies, and her lips dance as she lets out each word. “How silly you are, brother. You’d have to roll out of bed to get to a bar.” She smiles taking her time to entertain a thought. Her eyes go to Marcus as her arm unhooks around Darius. “And you’d need a mighty large stage to bring me in. I don’t go to bars if I’m not singing, and I don’t sing unless everyone is watching.” She winks playfully.
Helmuth walks as he speaks, making way to soldiers of his own. “Quite alright, no one has dropped since the Bolton-girl. No harm, no foul. A moment.” He doesn’t pause, turning to his Sergeant. “We have another man, surely you saw him. You’ll be north exit, beneath the balcony, Gagnon at the front door, and the mercenary on patrol off perimeter. We’ll introduce a third in the foyer, followed by a second and third floor patrol. As our reinforcement arrive, we will set another on the deceased, a rifleman at the balcony and a second patrolman outside. When we know the perimeter to be secure, we can begin returning guests to their homes with armed escorts if they like.” He walks away as she salutes.
He heads towards Gagnon as he resumes his conversation with Seth. “Glad you came prepared. I feel confident in our numbers now. Perhaps I’ll inquire Valentina for control of her construct man for the evening. I imagine it would be quick to tear an assailant apart. He thinks on it as he reaches his other Guard unit. The man quickly brings himself to salute, dropping a cartridge he was fumbling with to the floor. Both men pretend not to notice as it rolls by their feet. “Gagnon. By the entrance. No one enters or leaves without my say.” Gagnon acknowledges, jogging towards the doors, double backing to grab the ammunition, returning to his new position.
Helmuth walks toward the staircase now, opposite side of Vincent. He stops after ascending the first step, just barely above eye-level with Seth now. “If you’d like to walk your friends home, we can start the party’s extraction with them. Figure out what they’d prefer, but this house will be a fortress soon enough and I will defend it as such.” The captain azure lips stretch into a smile. He gives a salute to Seth, ascending the stairs if nothing is left to be said.
Caroline pouts a bit when Halcyon mentions it as a language of evil, possibly something that the mage she spoke to before about it left out. “Elven," Caroline repeats with a smile wide across her, “Emmy speaks Elven as well. Old Galatian too, but I’m told he can never quite get his verb tenses right. His first time meeting Miss Bolton he said ‘Abigal, you were so beautiful’ to her.” She laughs remembering. Her eyes brighten when Halcyon suggests the team up. She stops paying attention to the fireworks, twisting herself to face her fellow Oracle. “You’d um, really do that? Really, really?!” Her grin is endless, she hops to her feet in joy. Her lively figure is illuminated by the explosions in the sky. She dances blue, twirls green, jumps red. She turns to Halcyon, outlined amber. “I’ll be the best pupil I can!”
Another breeze, and while Caroline’s animated movements freeze, her smile smile cannot be swept away from wind alone. She sits back down, chipperly listening to the hums and words of Halcyon. “So where do you do your reading? Can we see it from here?” She looks northeast, towards the lighted spires of the Society.
Halcyon's smile grows and grows as she watches the dancing antics of the young seer. For a moment, the happiness she feels banishes the tensions and strain of the dramatic evening. "I have an office over near the Colosseum, but you can't really see it from here. I live in an apartment above the office." Halcyon points southwest toward the city docks and the southern gate.
She pulls from the front of her gown the crude note Vincent gave her with his address on it. She reads it despite the dim light and looks south to find the approximate location, near the crater and the Judicial Affairs Building. She then busies herself getting out a small notebook and cartridge ink pen to transfer the address into a more appropriate place for safe keeping, memorizing it as she does so.
"If we're going to be friends--and I assure you, I'm as happy about that prospect as you are about us working together--we will have to tell each other about the boys we are interested in ..." She glances at Caroline, worried that she might be assuming too much, then adds, "or girls. Did anyone catch your fancy this evening? And before you answer, I call dibbs on Monsieur Durant." She giggles and grins as she writes.
Raphael chuckles, glancing at Darius, "I can't say that I blame you for wishes to escape. So far as golden ones go, I'm not so sure that any Galatians will be in much of a speaking mood this evening. I suppose my own company will have to suffice for the time being." He returns her smile with one of his own. He nods agreement with her, "Yes, Seth is quite eloquent. Of that there can be no doubt. He's also reliable, honorable and patriotic. All of these paint him as something outside the normal realm of the mercenary."
The silence hangs for a moment, and his brow quirks up in surprise as Estelle asks him of devils. He shakes his head to indicate he's never heard of the specific creature she mentions. His smile fades slightly and he leans back from her, unaware he'd leaned in closer to her conspiratorial whispering. He thinks for a moment, mind running over the man's odd behavior earlier that evening. There was something there. What it was I do not know, but there was certainly some constraint imposed on him. Might it be that he has signed the proverbial contract and so set in motion something sinister tonight? He nods distractedly, whispering a reply, "I hadn't heard of them before, but the imagery is certainly a vivid one. There is something odd about him and his behavior, but I think that those stories might take it a bit far. I suppose we will have to watch and wait and see."
He listens to Marcus' tale with half an ear, mind running back over the evening. That wine... it might be worth ensuring there is nothing amiss with it before I split it with anyone. It is unlikely to be so, but he did seem to have a vintage readily in mind. Almost as if he had thought of it ahead of time. Perhaps there is more sinister and subtle workings here then I thought. Perhaps I have been to reliant in my own ability to spot a liar. He breaks his distraction as Estelle comments on Marcus' story. He smiles again, the crinkle in his eyes betraying the hint of fondness that had grown there, "A poor thing indeed. But a poor thing that has only itself to blame for its predicament."
"I will inquire who might want to leave. And formulate something on that." Seth returns the salute, and walks towards Raphael first. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything, but Raphael you might have the chance be one of the first to be escorted home if you so desire." He turn towards Marcus. "You as well. I am not forcing you to leave, but if you want you may both be able to leave by the time a few more of my men get here."
Raphael's attention is drawn from the conversation when Seth approaches and speaks up. Raphael nods once in acknowledgement, "I had spoken to Madame Silverstone about leaving together. I wished to see Estelle here home safely, if she acquiesces to leave with such a pair of rogues as we. If there is no issue, then I would be happy depart with the three of us together." He addresses Estelle, "Granted, all of that depends on whether you feel comfortable leaving with me and my friend, Estelle. I completely understand if you are not so sure of me after only having met this evening."
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“A Nagaji, the poor thing,” Estelle speaks out quietly amidst laughter. “It’s blood must have been at a crawl in that cold.” She smiles lightly, shifting her weight. "I wonder if Marcus called the Guard a second time..."
marcus frowns and responds honestly saying "the first thing I did was bring the man to the fireplace, and have an employee fetch a bottle of firewhiskey. He would likely have died before I found him had he not brought in a few bottles of the enchanted booze himself. These days it's beginning to be difficult to find since the man who used to make it died in a work fire accident last summer. I've been trying to recreate the recipe myself but have been unsuccessful, doi hired a pair of alchemists to work on the problem. While they haven't succeeded yet either, they have made some significant progress, so I'm looking into buying a small distillery " he frowns and closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose ".... Sorry about that I sometimes ramble on a bit when I get sleepy, where was I... Ah yes, what became of the nagaji! Right. Anyway, once he was stable, Having drank half of the bottle I gave him and fallen asleep by the fire, I then contacted the guard and reported that I had discovered the thief, and told them what condition he was in when I found him. It took some doing but I managed to convince the captain to let the nagaji work of his debts, so he worked for me and I took a little over half of his pay, until he finally paid off his debt to me, and paid off the standard fines, he still works for me during the summer months most years since then"
Darius remains flushed, and his laugh strikes through the foyer. He winds down slowly. “Oh how, heh-he, how your bar must bring stories.” He shouts to Emile, calling his name. “Emm, you must keep inviting him, if just to hear the stories fresh as they come!”
Marcus laughs saying "I'd be glad to come, and I'd be glad to have you at my bar so long as no one gets assassinated next time, maybe you could swing by when I get the formula right for the firewhiskey
He listens to Marcus' tale with half an ear, mind running back over the evening. That wine... it might be worth ensuring there is nothing amiss with it before I split it with anyone. It is unlikely to be so, but he did seem to have a vintage readily in mind. Almost as if he had thought of it ahead of time. Perhaps there is more sinister and subtle workings here then I thought. Perhaps I have been to reliant in my own ability to spot a liar. He breaks his distraction as Estelle comments on Marcus' story. He smiles again, the crinkle in his eyes betraying the hint of fondness that had grown there "A poor thing indeed. But a poor thing that has only itself to blame for its predicament
Marcus nods, and says "true enough but the man was half starved even before locking himself in the freezer, and it's not like throwing him in jail or, heaven forbid have him hung or exiled would actually benefit me or him"
"I will inquire who might want to leave. And formulate something on that." Seth returns the salute, and walks towards Raphael first. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything, but Raphael you might have the chance be one of the first to be escorted home if you so desire." He turn towards Marcus. "You as well. I am not forcing you to leave, but if you want you may both be able to leave by the time a few more of my men get here."
Marcus yawns " might be for the best, as much fun as I've had, and as terrible the death in the middle of it was, I'm feeling a tad nackard"
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Helmuth, seems to be listening from the balcony above. He leans over, almost half in the air. Something said below piqued his interest. He thinks some thought over while looking at the heart of the dispersing crowd. He continues to listen.
Estelle seems surprised that her comment was caught by Marcus. “Color me corrected,” she starts, “some stories end happier than others.” Her voice sounds as though the situation was still bleak in its resolution. She nonetheless gives Marcus an approving smile.
Estelle’s eyes go wide at Raphael’s comment on the Nagaji. Disbelief it appears but no anger found in her face. Her voice is a whisper no longer to Raphael, yet her first words are almost muffled by the chimes of her necklace as she turns to face him. She speaks with a vindicating confidence. “Surely you cannot place all the blame upon him. It is the only life he knows. When those above only hire humans, elves and halflings leaving those with less human features with their scraps or dirty jobs, whose fault is it when Roland’s victims turn to crime?” She nods in agreement when Marcus chimes in a similar thought.
Estelle allows Raphael to be excused to speak to Seth but she waits an answer. Her eyes are hawk-like as she watches the lawyer. She almost looks eager, slight smile on her lips. It doesn’t appear smug but fueled by a thrill of engagement, of debate, of opinions of those she would like to know more of. Some seek conflict in battle or war, a smile found in the reflection of a sword. Estelle knows her battlefield, and in courtyard conversation she is vigilant paladin. She prepares a parry with the lick of her bottom lip, ready for deliberation.
She holds her arm out to Raphael, a wide hook waiting for another’s arm to link to. “A conversation for the walk home? I’m afraid I live only three blocks south, so it may be cut shorter than I like.” Her smile persists.
Darius laughs with Marcus. “Death doesn’t follow me everywhere I go, I assure you.” Emile appears irked on both of Marcus’ mention of the assassination. His gaze his stern and contemplative, but he doesn’t speak a word. Darius continues. “Laughing to death, maybe,” he smirks, “but I’ll leave that at the door for you.” The silver haired man fixes the shoulder of his shirt, once more placing it up to his collar from his bicep. “I’ll crawl out of bed for your bar, Marcus, it is a promise.”
Caroline can barely see around the bend of the house from the corner of the balcony to spy what Halcyon points to. She nods resolutely. At the mention of boys, she slips into Aklo. She places two fingers over her mouth to stop the words from flowing, though with a look to Halcyon, she breaks with a chuckle. It survives for a few moments, a high pitched giggled amidst the low roar of fireworks, distant now. The lights come from the east, it seems the Guard is still putting on their annual show this year after all. For a bit, the third floor seems disconnected from the world below, free of burdens and stress, of reminders to the blonde, pale corpse almost as fresh in the flesh as in the minds of the guests.
“Hehe, no one today. Certainly not Helmuth” she laughs. “Umm, there’s the, um, Emile has this friend named Augustine.” She trails off, but speaks up quickly seeks to fix any implication. “Not Augustine! He has a son Reyes. He is cute, I suppose.” Once again she trails off with a smile. She looks up at Halcyon. “You and Vincent sure danced nicely. Emmy told me he found love in his first dan-”
Again her hand covers her mouth. She tries to cover herself. She wears a flustered smile. “Not that we are, um, talking about love. Um, yet I mean. Or at all. We should, um, return downstairs. I don’t want Caroline or Emmy to worry.” She grabs at hand of Halcyon. She stops before returning inside. “Thank you Halcyon. It is good to have a friend like you.”
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Helmuth, seems to be listening from the balcony above. He leans over, almost half in the air. Something said below piqued his interest. He thinks some thought over while looking at the heart of the dispersing crowd. He continues to listen.
Estelle seems surprised that her comment was caught by Marcus. “Color me corrected,” she starts, “some stories end happier than others.” Her voice sounds as though the situation was still bleak in its resolution. She nonetheless gives Marcus an approving smile.
Estelle’s eyes go wide at Raphael’s comment on the Nagaji. Disbelief it appears but no anger found in her face. Her voice is a whisper no longer to Raphael, yet her first words are almost muffled by the chimes of her necklace as she turns to face him. She speaks with a vindicating confidence. “Surely you cannot place all the blame upon him. It is the only life he knows. When those above only hire humans, elves and halflings leaving those with less human features with their scraps or dirty jobs, whose fault is it when Roland’s victims turn to crime?” She nods in agreement when Marcus chimes in a similar thought.
Estelle allows Raphael to be excused to speak to Seth but she waits an answer. Her eyes are hawk-like as she watches the lawyer. She almost looks eager, slight smile on her lips. It doesn’t appear smug but fueled by a thrill of engagement, of debate, of opinions of those she would like to know more of. Some seek conflict in battle or war, a smile found in the reflection of a sword. Estelle knows her battlefield, and in courtyard conversation she is vigilant paladin. She prepares a parry with the lick of her bottom lip, ready for deliberation.
She holds her arm out to Raphael, a wide hook waiting for another’s arm to link to. “A conversation for the walk home? I’m afraid I live only three blocks south, so it may be cut shorter than I like.” Her smile persists.
marcus shrugs "I feel that law and punishment are there because they serve a purpose, that being to serve as a deterrent against acts that would damage socitity. I felt that being locked in a freezer for a week, nearly dieing, and having to pay back for all he stole and then some was more than enough of a deterrent. Killing, locking up or exiling an able bodied potential member of the workforce would not benifit society or serve any purpose so I chose a path that would"