Gravlax shifts to draw the General's gaze (among others), and slightly steps forward. "I have vast quantities, sir, but the most relevant few pages are at the top. If I may...."
And at a sign of the General's acquiescence, Gravlax strides up and carefully delivers the Executive Summary.
The general listens to the entirety of Gravlax's presentation, complete with corroborating paperwork. (Which he does look at, occasionally holding up a hand to pause the clerk while he looks over something with more detail. Then waving Gravlax to continue.)
When everything has been laid on the table, Vourne rises. He looks at each of the twelve people seated at the table. "Which leaves just one question. What should I do with Westcrown now?"
After meeting the eyes of each of the nobles, his gaze falls on the others in the room, considering, judging. "Taking into consideration that I would greatly prefer to not have to spend valuable time and resources in a city that should be loyal to the throne."
"Sir," Gravlax pauses only a moment before answering, as though the question were directed at him.
"The dottari know the city. Know the factions-- excuse me, families -- and without their enemies fanning tensions with the Hellknights, they will be able to keep Westcrown running as she should be run until such time as a new Lord Mayor can be appointed. One drawn from the ranks of the dottari -- or even one strongly associated -- would help to fill that gap. Sir."
And ... almost as an aside, "If you really want to shake things up, appoint a Mayor who is not a noble. That one would truly only have loyalty to the crown, as she would not be acceptable as a Lord Mayor. Deep ties to Westcrown, and an incentive to keep the city steady until it can be returned to ... a proper Lord Mayor."
Gravlax bows formally to the General. "I have taken liberty, sir, in anticipating the question. There are a few potential candidates outlined in the next sheaf of papers."
The first is Chammady Drovenge.
Minus? Her brother is the architect of the current troubles. She might be difficult to pry from power.
Plus? As her brother was the architect of the current troubles, she would be under incredible scrutiny from all around. By surviving the current troubles, she has shown good Mayoral instincts.
The second is Lodros Mhartis.
Minus? Member of the dottari might not be willing to undertake some of the dirty politicking that is necessary to run a city like Westcrown.
Plus? Member of the dottari. Has proven his loyalty.
The third is Tarvi Merro.
Minus? Not a noble.
Plus? Connection with the dottari. Connection with Westcrown. Easiest to remove if she proves unsuitable.
Azhar leans in close and whispers in Amaya's hair.
Vourne takes the papers, reading through it, one of his eyebrows raises ever so slightly. He then hands the sheaf in question around the table. The last on to read it before handing it to Cassian nearby so that everyone on deck can read it is Chammady.
Chammady's eyes widen and she can't quite control the glance at Cassian when she reads the candidates.
Vourne waits for comments from the nobles or the peanut gallery.
Cassian glances at the paper. His eyes widen almost imperceptibly and offers the tiniest shrug to Chammady.
Amaya shakes her head. "No. He would absolutely despise it."
The last on to read it before handing it to Cassian nearby so that everyone on deck can read it is Chammady.
Azhar's eyebrow raises, clearly surprised. He whispers again to the Tien woman next to him,
and then adds, "Out of all of them, I think Chammady might be the most ready to step into the position. What do the rest of you think?"
Just because he won't inappropriately touch, does not mean he is not sorely tempted too, nor does it mean he will not inappropriately look as he would not should they have been in a more public bathhouse. He does not, however, overly abuse the liberties afforded him, though the thought of doing so affects him noticeably. When he finishes washing her, he gently lifts her from the waters, snags two towels and bears her to the bedroom. He dabs her dry with one and spreads out the other, large enough for her to rest upon and cover the pillow as well. A soft, cool coverlet is placed across her and tucked around her shoulders to ward off any chill, then he tiptoes back downstairs to make sure her gear is cared for...though he is admittedly at a loss as to what to do with her other things. The caring of women's garments are not something he can claim to have had great experience with. After a few minutes of staring perplexedly at them, he decides to take the chance and washes them as well...and since there is no one around to see, hangs them out to dry along with his own things, and upon finishing cleaning up himself he pads back upstairs to the bedroom, lays down a towel on the floor and puts himself to sleep beside her... Or close enough, anyway. He only expects to be asleep for a couple hours.
Azhar wakes. Lying on the the hard ground makes it easy to wake when he wants too. He's fairly sure she would be waking up shortly, and the sustenance magic ensures she will be well rested.
He makes an omelet and two glasses of orange juice. It's simple, but he does not want to be away from her for too long. He returns, sits on the edge of the bed and places the plate and one of the glasses on the bedside table. He takes a sip and allows one hand to move the glossy tresses away from her face. His hard thumb caresses the softness of her cheek.
"I have no opinion," Cassian says.
"I know Tarvi cares for WestCrown and that she is a capable person. Perhaps we should ask if they would like the position and if so, why they should be the one selected?" Azhar puts forth, surreptitiously watching Vourne to see if there is any reaction at that suggestion.
Vourne honestly does not seem to care what you say, he is, however, very closely observing the twelve people seated. Who are looking through the presented paperwork.
Azhar's eyes linger on Chammady, seek out Tarvi and the elder Mhartis, before returning to Gravlax. No longer willing to speak up, his eyes still portray his thoughts, "They all seem fine candidates. Do you have a preference?"
Cassian catches Azhar's glance, and nods toward Rygel and raises his eyebrows. He manages to not laugh.
Azhar's eyebrows raise slightly and his eyes sparkle. His lips twitch slightly, having a little harder time than Cassian in not showing his mirth.
Azhar wakes. Lying on the the hard ground makes it easy to wake when he wants too. He's fairly sure she would be waking up shortly, and the sustenance magic ensures she will be well rested.He makes an omelet and two glasses of orange juice. It's simple, but he does not want to be away from her for too long. He returns, sits on the edge of the bed and places the plate and one of the glasses on the bedside table. He takes a sip and allows one hand to move the glossy tresses away from her face. His hard thumb caresses the softness of her cheek.
He takes a sip of juice, his eyes following her curves under the sheet. A light flush reaches his cheeks. He listens to his breathing, the beat of his heart in his chest. The color under his skin deepens. Somehow, he manages to keep his desire in check. He focuses back on her angelic face and smiles softly again. Did he say he would wait forever? Not sure, but at this moment it almost seems that way.
Tarvi's sapphire blue eyes get very wide as she reads her names and qualifications on Gravlax's detailed analysis of the candidates. The sheaf of papers slide from her almost nerveless fingers to the next person. She looks at Cassian, her eyes narrowing with intent, just the slightest movement of her head, which shakes her hair in negation. Just the tinge of pleading in the tension around her eyes, asking her brother to make it NOT so.
Just a few people down the line, Lodros Mhartis takes the paper. A little smile of desire crawls onto his lips, his fingers tightening enough on the paper to make it crinkle. Then he happens to glance at his father, who is watching him carefully. Lodros's gaze snaps away from whatever judgement he sees in his father's eyes, to the dottari uniform he wears. He takes a deep breath, tension easing from the set of his shoulders. He hands the papers to the next person before straightening his uniform with pride.
Chammady breaths out heavily, her manicured fingers tapping lightly on the surface of the table. She smiles pleasantly at the General before an imperfection in the surface of one of her nails nabs her attention. After a long moment, she looks up over her shoulder at Cassian, her blue eyes questioning.
"Your consort says she doesn't really want the job back but she knows what it entails and has some ideas on how to make it work."
Khaz's harsh laugh, with real amusement. "She told me to add, If it turns out to be too much of a pain, we can always assassinate Chammady when we have another chump in line for the job."
An almost imperceptible smile quirks Cassian's lips. "I'd like to alter my vote for Miss Drovenge. She has my full support."
Azhar, having watched Tarvi's ocular gymnastics, smiles and nods. "And mine as well. Based on the admittedly very short time I have known her, I believe she can do a much more than adequate job."
He takes a sip of juice, his eyes following her curves under the sheet. A light flush reaches his cheeks. He listens to his breathing, the beat of his heart in his chest. The color under his skin deepens. Somehow, he manages to keep his desire in check. He focuses back on her angelic face and smiles softly again. Did he say he would wait forever? Not sure, but at this moment it almost seems that way.
Perhaps he's misjudged the time. He covers the omelette to try keeping it warm for just a little longer, then lays down behind her, letting his arm rest protectively over her body. His breathing slows to match hers as his body absorbs her warmth. He closes his eyes for just a minute...
There is quiet among those seated at the table for a time after Cassian's and Azhar's vote for Chammady. A quiet that is finally broken by Ghanefini. "House Mhartis would support Lady Drovenge in her role as Lord Mayor."
At almost the same moment, the group notices Mauro Attenar gently squeeze his wife's shoulder. A little nod when she looks up at him. She straightens in her chair. "House Rosala also will support Lady Drovenge."
There is quiet again, Eirtein Oberigo just staring at Cassian, trying to understand the young man's about face regarding the Drovenge family. Finally, after shooting Chammady a look filled with hate and rage, his voice quiet. "House Oberigo has always and will continue to support House Drovenge."
Just after Eirtein speaks Lord Grulios slams his hands down on the table. "No. A woman," his voice pauses just for a moment and gets a conciliatory tone as he qualifies, "other than one of the royal family, has neither the brains nor the fortitude to rule. And her family has proved to be untrustworthy." Two of the other, older gentleman seated nod.
Azhar's eyebrow raises. He wears an easy, bemused smile. It is easy to see what he is thinking, Perhaps a test then? I'd be willing to bet she could take you. He continues to hold his tongue, however.
Just after Eirtein speaks Lord Grulios slams his hands down on the table. "No. A woman," his voice pauses just for a moment and gets a conciliatory tone as he qualifies, "other than one of the royal family, has neither the brains nor the fortitude to rule. And her family has proved to be untrustworthy." Two of the other, older gentleman seated nod.
"I imagine you should nominate someone else. Or perhaps find a way to express your displeasure in the nominee in a..." Cassian pauses, biting off what was likely a threat or an insult. "...more constructive manner."
Azhar allows a small smile of agreement. His eyes go back to Lord Grulios, questioning.
Lord Grulios looks at Cassian, arrogant confidence in his demeanor. He looks back at General Vourne. "The one acceptable candidate was Lodros Mhartis, House Grulios will support him." Lords Dioso and Khollarix both nod in agreement, adding their houses support to the only male candidate.
Chammady straightens in her chair. "House Drovenge will support myself as Lord Mayor."
Almost immediately, as if they had been waiting for a cue from the red-head, the other old Taldane families (Julistarc, Tilernos, and Mezinas) support Chammady's bid for mayor.
Proving that they are able to count, the last two lords: Salisfer and Phandros, vote with the majority, seeing no point in antagonizing the new Lord Mayor.
General Vourne stands with a nod. "Thank you for deciding that," he bows slightly to Chammady, "Lord Mayor, the throne expects that Westcrown continue to be a comfortable and welcoming port. Please do everything to ensure that no civil disobedience erupts in her streets."
And he motions for his staff to escort everyone off of the deck of the Asmodenaut.
Back on the dock, Amaya gives Azhar a big hug. "Thank you for not trying to stick my father into a job traditionally vacated by assassination." She pauses, thinking about that for a moment and then shoots Chammady an apologetic shrug.
The nobles quickly move down the dock to the small yatchts that brought them, with the exception of Mauro who nods to Cassian and the group before helping Eliana into a carriage, Ghanefini who also walks alongside his son back to the heart of the city, and Oberigo who doesn't seem ready to move on quite yet.
Cassian nods back to the man, and puts himself in a position to be spoken to alone, should Oberigo want to.
Once the dock has quieted down a bit, Oberigo moves so that he is next to Cassian, his voice no less intent for the whispered volume. "Do you want to tell me why I just agreed to support the b...", a breath to calm himself, "woman who left me to starve to death, naked in a cage?"
"Because that's not her," Cassian mutters back. He breaks into a grin. "Your tormenter is extremely dead... that's a replacement. You didn't think I'd change my stripes that easy, did you?"
Most the older man's anger drains from his body, as he carefully examines Chammady. He loos at Cassian and is relatively certain that he sees truth there. "Even if you had, you earned my support." Oberigo is silent on what would have happened after the General sailed out of port.
He looks at the red-head again, "Where in hell did you FIND such a perfect match?"
Cassian's grin widens. "Trade secret." He moves away, "If you need me or the Syndicate, you know where to find us." And with that, the rogue rejoins the group.
"Good night's sleep tonight and ghost hunting tomorrow, then?"
Back on the dock, Amaya gives Azhar a big hug. "Thank you for not trying to stick my father into a job traditionally vacated by assassination." She pauses, thinking about that for a moment and then shoots Chammady an apologetic shrug.
Azhar returns the hug affectionately, "You are most welcome, love. And as long as it never comes up, he will likely never have a reason to kill me." he finishes with a slightly teasing smile.
"Good night's sleep tonight and ghost hunting tomorrow, then?"
"Absolutely. We'll see you then." Azhar waves goodbye with one hand, the other wrapped around the waist of the woman by his side, guiding her back in the direction they originally approached in, at least for now.
Gravlax lets out a long breath when he steps off the ship.
"Congratulations and condolences, Lord Mayor," he quietly says to 'Chammady.'
"Sleep tonight, yes. Ghost hunting tomorrow, yes. But first ... I think I need a drink."
"Well," Zsz says. "I'm glad all that was safely resolved, for the most part."
"Sleep tonight, yes. Ghost hunting tomorrow, yes. But first ... I think I need a drink."
"Not sure there's enough liquor in Westcrown. I should probably escort Lady Drovenge home and fetch Crosael."
Tarvi waves at her brother as Lady Drovenge pauses to wait for Cassian. "Kracken's Egg?" She asks Mathalen and Gravlax. Then she turns to Azhar, Amaya, and Zsz seeing if they are up for the invitation as well.
Chammady easily steps up into her carriage, leaving the door open for Cassian to join her.
"Kracken's Egg?" She asks Mathalen and Gravlax.
Gravlax nods. "And the first round's on me."
Tarvi waves at her brother as Lady Drovenge pauses to wait for Cassian. "Kracken's Egg?" She asks Mathalen and Gravlax. Then she turns to Azhar, Amaya, and Zsz seeing if they are up for the invitation as well.
Azhar smiles, "I think a drink would be appropriate. Are you up for it, love?" he asks turning to Amaya (and looking for any tiny nuance that might tell him she is not up to it, but she will agree to come along just to humor him).
Gravlax nods. "And the first round's on me."
Azhar has another smile for his friend.
Amaya squeezes Azhar's hand, nodding at the invitation.
She smiles, "Do you think Tarvi would be willing to put in a ring gate between a secure location there and one in the Walcourt?"
Rumor has it that the delay was due to a self-audit at Citadel Rivad to ensure there were no heretic in the main group before cleansing the Westcrown unit.
He nods at the suggestion. "I think if you ask Tarvi nicely, she will. She wants me to be happy. You make me happy. So she'll want you to be happy. She's like that."
Cassian gives her an appraising look. "It's a little weird having you look like my enemy. You even smell like her. Incredible skill. And unnerving." He smiles and kisses her temple.
After far too short a time, the carriage slows, turning off the street. Crosael straightens, pulling back on the visage of the aristocrat. Managing to make herself look taller without any magic whatsoever. Quietly, before the door opens, "I'll meet you in the alley in about twenty minutes?"
"Kracken's Egg?" She asks Mathalen and Gravlax.Gravlax nods. "And the first round's on me."
"Sounds good," says Zsz.
Gravlax orders a starting round of something simple yet strong, cask aged for roughly as long as Mathalen is old. He starts to raise his glass in toast, then thinks better of it and sips at his spirits.
"Politics is a dirty business."
"Agreed. Not my cup of tea. Luckily there are others better suited." Azhar is, as always, sitting next to Amaya. He lifts his mug to Gravlax, in thanks for the drink, if nothing else. "So what do you think of the prospects of Westcrown now? Are there any particular plans in the offing that might need our attention besides the immediate two items left on the agenda?" he asks of the assembled group.
Mathalen takes her own glass sipping the alchol, bumping Gravlax lightly with her shoulder and smiling.
Amaya only pours a small amount of the booze for herself and even that little amount stains her pale cheeks red. Switching to water, "Immediately is just the ghost and," and she looks at Gravlax, "a lingerie shop?"
"That may be a two-fer," Tarvi comments. "Because there was the creepy passage under the Moon's Light and just the creepy sales crew."
Slowly, quite a bit after the strictly required two hours of rest. Amaya stretches, yawns, and immediately moves just enough that her blanket wrapped body cuddles into Azhar's warm frame. Her lids held shut against the existence of day.
Then the climb down, a slow, laborious process which suddenly gets much faster when Crosael loses her grip and slides down the last section of the tree to land, unceremoniously, on her behind. She shakes and her lips go white to not make a sound as she shakes off the pain of the inelegant landing. And then, once she stands up, she looks around, obviously hoping that Cassian hadn't caught sight of her ... ummm... skills.
And uses a little magic to clean and straighten her clothing.
Cassian arrives a wee bit later with an definitely non-Chammady definitely human woman. He orders some local-Wiscrani liquor and sits down.
"We can bring everyone up to speed on the Moon's Light probably more effectively if we just showed them," Cassian says. "And it might be something to do at night."
She moves a bit closer to Cassian, a soft brush of her lips against his, a bigger smile. "And I managed to not hurt my tail, this time."