Mentally decompressed after her stay in the courtyard, Chana heads off to see if she can assist some of the rest of her team. As she wanders through the Senate building in search of the others, she eventually makes her way to the Arcade of Triumphs in time to see the opposite of a triumph in Tanglefoot's attempts to spy on Pythareus.
''At general's a real dang'rous seemin' guy, isn't 'e Snips?'
She muses to herself as she tries to get close and listen in to the general's conversation.
She skulks very obviously around a pillar, and then, realizing how awful her hiding place is, heads back towards the courtyard before Pythareus can get suspicious.
Chana's ire rises as it becomes clear to her that the High Strategos has firmly raised his social guard, all too aware that the Gala abounds with spies and eavesdroppers.
Meanwhile, having secured both better knowledge of the gallery and tacit support from the legion of servants, Olivia finds her errand running almost as effortless as navigating her own home.
Impatient with her progress, and perhaps not one for subtlety--at least not when three drinks deep--Photinè decides it's time for a more direct approach; having already failed to blend in, she breaks from the crowd and glides toward the High Strategos, a coy smile forming on her face.
"It seems, monsieur, I am not meant to blend in. I admit, it was my intention to obscure myself in the crowd so I could observe you from afar; you being a discerning man, I need not remind you that the senate is overflowing with dissonant intentions tonight, and I simply like to know," she makes a show of looking him up and down, "what kind of man I'm dealing with."
Before moving into the light, Amandine stops to recompose herself. She drops the small silver spoon on the darkened hallway’s floor. She then makes a couple of final adjustments to get her bodice properly back in place.
The extra little job that she can never, ever breathe a word to anyone about is taken care of. Martella Lotheed’s information had indeed been very good, and it had gone smoothly. Now she had to get back to what she’d been pulled away from, the Vernisant artifacts.
The young Baron certainly did have quite a taste for Felwil, and his habits concerning it were very sloppy. So much so that a strange young woman could flirt heatedly with him for less than five minutes, whisper the suggestion of a “little, private party” into his ear, and have him snorting from her spoon at the end of a dark hallway in five more.
He really should be more careful, just about anything can be added to a powder. I wonder if he’ll be sorry he didn’t make it to cast his vote for primogeniture this evening. Or maybe he will wake up and decide whatever happened instead was worth the trade.
Once he was one the floor, Amandine had pantsed the young Baron to push his thinking in that direction rather than foul play.
With a last quick check to ensure her wig is straight, Amandine hurries back out into the crowds to find Olivia.
Olivia stops by Lady Lotheed's table, and her patron welcomes her with a pleased smile.
"I am almost shocked at how much I've enjoyed the evening so far," Martella says to Olivia as she draws near, beckoning her to take a seat.
"We've made impeccable progress," she continues once Olivia is within the intangible protection of the cricket, "Especially in terms of building bonds with certain notables. You and your allies have already impressed me, Lady Vernisant. I'm almost afraid that we'll exhaust our good fortune, but I know that's simply paranoia. Too much time spent with these noble throngs tends to breed more than a little paranoia."
Much to Olivia's surprise - and delight - another visitor arrives at Lady Lotheed's table. None other than Amandine Santon walks over, seemingly happier to find Olivia than Martella.
.....
At first, Photinè fears that her direct approach will meet with failure. Drawing near to the High Strategos, a few of his hangers-on close ranks around Pythareus as though they were a phalanx on the battlefield. However, Photinè's words seem to slip through the high profile man's social guards.
The muscular, weathered man of some forty years waves aside his aides, indicating that he will speak candidly.
"You are dealing with a man who would much rather be out riding on the Tandak Plains than slogging through all this politicking," Pythareus says bluntly. "I am a military commander, first and foremost. My presence here is a formality, albeit one that chafes like an ill-fitted suit of mail. The serpents and vipers can slither and scheme all they like tonight. On the morrow, I will return to inspect my men, where I can do the most good for Taldor. Our empire was forged by its military might, and that is how we will wrest back control of our destiny."
.....
Like the tremor of an earthquake, a new social stir reverberates through the crowds within the senate. It is reminiscent to when the guests discovered Princess Eutropia's covert entrance to the gala, but of a far greater magnitude.
As silence falls upon the gala, the guests part to allow a train of servants to unfurl a red carpet, wrapped upon brass rollers, and blaze a regal trail across the Arcade of Triumphs and into the Senate Hall. Guests quickly flock to catch a glimpse of the one man who could warrant such an entrance, but they are soon rebuffed by the Ulfen Guard who clears the path for Grand Prince Stavian III as he ascends the 100 steps to the senate building. Taldor's ruler carves a brisk, direct path to the Emperor's Hall.
The High Strategos excuses himself from Photinè with a manner camped somewhere on the borderland between polite and brusque. He joins the Grand Prince, and the pair seclude themselves within the privacy of a meeting room within the Emperor's Hall.
Chana, along with anyone else in the courtyard or overlooking gallery, espies Princess Eutropia take keen notice of her father's arrival. She slips away with Lady Gloriana like a pair of noble phantoms. Although Lady Gloriana reappears a few minutes later, the princess remains unseen - likely recusing herself with her own private meetings, much like her father.
Amandine gives Lady Lotheed a certain look that lets her know the young Baron won't make it to the vote later as she greets her. "I'm sorry to steal Lady Olivia away Lady Lotheed, but I need her help with something." Amandine then looks at Olivia. "Do you mind?"
As Amandine and Olivia walk to the historical displays, she explains her need for Olivia to start a conversation with the curator to distract her from the Vernisant display.
Once the two of them are talking, Amandine tries slipping the book out of the display.
With Pythareus' departure, Photinè is left alone in the center of the Arcade of Triumphs. She laces her fingers together casually, looking around for her next diversion.
She doesn't have to look far; the tall woman sees that Olivia is also in the Arcade, speaking intently to the curator. Beyond them, Photinè spies a woman she doesn't recognize, moving furtively among the Vernisant artifacts, and makes her way towards her.
With a discreet movement of her hand, Photinè nudges the book ever-so-slightly towards the woman, making it easier for her to snag.
"I don't believe we've been acquainted," she whispers with a smile.
|
Olivia was already quite happy as Lady Martella not only lowered her guard to the new paladin, but also praised her and her companions. Then, the beautiful Amandine returns, and Oliva's green eyes dilate. "Excuse me, my lady, duty calls." She politely curtsies to Lady Martella, then leaves with Amandine. Feeling especially good now, Olivia manages to express her happiness towards Amandine's return without making a fool of herself. 'Why is it that I can fight demons in the worldwound, but barely manage to talk to pretty girls!?'
Now at the displays, Olivia follows Ms. Vau around the tour while Amandine does the work. Since Olivia already knows that Vau is practically in love with artefacts, she just lets the curator talk about her passion. In all fairness, some of them are quite interesting to Olivia, and all she has to do is make sure Vau doesn't get on the topic of Vernisant.
With the unexpected assistance of this mature woman, whose heels bring her eyes a few inches above Amandine's, the donated journal is successfully retrieved from the rack of rare books without it dropping noisily to the ground.
Not far off, Miss Vau's eyes light up as she notices Olivia's return, clearly a welcome reprieve from the bored guests touring the arcade in idleness, devoid of interest in the artifacts on display.
"I'm so glad you could return," the middle-aged woman gushes, pushing her spectacles back up her narrow nose. "I had feared that with the Grand Prince's arrival drawing everyone's attention, I'd lost any chance of conversing with someone who can truly appreciate the vast wealth of history we have arrayed here."
When the woman walks up and begins speaking to Amandine, her heart nearly stops. She's certainly been caught directly in the act. But then she sees the Senatorial pin on the woman's dress.
Of course. Why should I have assumed we would all know of each other beforehand?
Amandine slides the book into the right-side secret pocket she had ordered sewn into her skirt, and smiles at the woman. "There is a good reason for this, I assure you."
Amandine brushes her fingers across her own, matching pin as a silent explanation.
"Still a bit to do though." Amandine slips over to the telescope. She reaches out to slide her hand along the object admiringly. When she withdraws her arm, the telescope comes with it, one end palmed and the rest laying along the underside of her forearm. Soon after the telescope rests snugly in the left-side secret skirt pocket
Chana watches Grand Prince Stavian's entrance with distaste. Of all the people here at the gala, this one was the highest among the figureheads, the one individual that even the gutter-kids of the Narrows knew, and knew how to hate. If anyone in the city could have done something to help the less fortune and improve things for everyone not pure-human-blooded, it would have been him. But instead, he wallowed about like the rest of the rotten nobility of Taldor.
Chana's nostrils flare and she bares her sharp teeth at the man. Its only through the presence of the veil that she isn't immediately outed as a monster. Nevertheless, tension runs through her until the Grand Prince leaves the courtyard and heads to more private chambers.
'Wot you think Snips? Maybe we coulda snapped 'im up right there. Ended all this fakin' about.'
Chana muses briefly, but even she knows how pointless and foolish that would have been.
With Pythareus no longer available to spy on (a turn of events that's actually a relief: Chana didn't feel comfortable anywhere near the guy), Chana returns to the courtyard to stalk around while she calms down after the Grand Prince's entrance. Eventually, she rejoins the conversations in the courtyard, listening in to people's reactions to the Grand Prince. She adds some of her own comments, trying to seem knowledgeable about current events in the process.
"Of course." Photinè winks at Amandine. "I'll leave you to it. Bonne chance!"
She takes her leave and makes her way back to the courtyard, where she spends some time simply mingling; she chats with her fellow nobles about current events, makes smalltalk about the gala, and recounts every salacious detail of the latest and most fascinating gossip.
The brass spyglass slips easily, quietly into Amandine's hidden pocket, and she takes a moment to adjust to the additional weight, however slight. She takes a moment to practice moving to disguise its presence.
Not far around the corner, she can hear Olivia chatting the curator about a banner.
"Oh yes, this banner was carried by the first vanguard company of the Fifth Army of Exploration. Under the command of General Fahlspar, this banner flew across Galt, the River Kingdoms, Rostland, and Issia. Sometimes I think it's possible to see, in the colors, where the strands were kissed by icy spray on the shore of the Lake of Mists and Veils. Oh, to think this banner marched alongside the legendary Worldbreaker and stamped Taldor's northernmost border upon Avistan!"
Grand Duchess Breateeza Fahlspar, current ruler of Northern Tandak, is known for her distaste for politicking - and even polite conversation. She is much more apt to disappear into the wilds around her family estate for days, or even weeks, at a time. Perhaps fittingly, she is also purported to be a devotee of Erastil of no small merit.
As for this "Worldbreaker," you remember hearing stories about some magic siege weapon used by the latter armies of exploration.
Vau looks around to the phalanx soldiers on guard duty along the arcade, then leans in and whispers almost conspiratorially.
"Truth be told, I've always been more fascinated by the Sixth Army of Exploration than the Fifth," she says with a devilish grin. "Oh, I know that General Marburran's defeat at Nagisa is one of Taldor's greatest embarrassments, but there's something so romantic about it all: the doomed battle against the Gorilla King, the loss of the famed siege engine Worldbreaker, and the tragic march home in shame."
You notice a barely perceptible shiver race through Miss Vau's shoulders, of the kind normally seen when young debutantes read tawdry, forbidden books of romance.
...
In the courtyard, Chana and Photinè find the gossip rather stale. Most of what they hear about the gentry and minor nobles is practically ancient history, at least two days' old. With the Grand Prince's arrival and quick seclusion, unsurprisingly the lion's share of chatter concerns him.
"No, no, I'm sure of it," you overhear from one man, festooned with the silliest hat you've yet seen tonight. "This whole past year, the Grand Prince has grown quiet about primogeniture. He's probably given up the ghost and accepted - perhaps resigned is more like it - that the princess should be his successor."
This supposition is greeted by doubtfully shaken heads and murmurs of ridicule. The discussion quickly degenerates into wild speculation about the state of the Grand Prince's health - both of body and of mind.
And the dagger...
Amandine had planned a diversion of her own before arriving, but it is not as reliable what Lady Olivia has going. She decides to finish quickly and repurpose her accomplice after she's finished here.
Moving to the dagger, Amandine looks around quickly. When no eyes are turned her direction, she reaches forward letting the blade slide up her sleeve. When her hand reaches the hilt, she palms it in the same way as she had the spyglass. As she steps back from the display, Amandine lets the dagger slide into her pocket beside the book.
Amandine walks casually away from the Verisant display and toward Olivia. When she reaches her, Amandine pauses briefly to give a greeting.
"Lady Olivia Verisant! It is such a surprise and pleasure to see you here. I'm afriad I'm due to meet a friend in the courtyard right now, but we simply must chat sometime tonight. I'll keep my eyes open for you. Pleasant Evening!"
Amandine walks on to the courtyard, expecting Olivia can extract herself from Miss Vau without assistance.
|
|
Though Olivia's knowledge of the armies of exploration is surely less than Ms. Vau's, Olivia is still able to keep up. She wants to know more of these 'romantic' events in history. "I had always thought of the sixth as a great shame, something not to mention, but tell me more about the romance of it all. I think you have a keen insight."
Olivia manages to retain her composure. There's something about the "I'll keep my eyes open for you" that sends a slight shiver down her spine. Despite that, she manages to put on a slightly annoyed persona, obviously put off of being interrupted. "Yes miss. I will be out there soon enough. Pleasant evening."
Olivia spends the next 'round' still with Ms. Vau just to make it seem like the conversation is completely natural (no ducking out hastily!). And in truth, she is enjoying the conversation. "One last thing before I depart, Ms. Vau. Where might I find you on the average day should I wish to visit? I would like to keep in touch."
Chana continues to make her way through the courtyard, talking with the various guests (though only after she's taken a few moments to size them up). Noting that the visitors seem interested in some of the local gossip she's picked up on from other areas of the event, she focuses on regurgitating the news in different words.
"I know I keep coming back to that old engine of destruction, but so many people have forgotten what a potent symbol of Taldor's power it once was. After all, Worldbreaker Hill - just a stone's throw west of the Senate - still bears its name since the siege weapon was formerly kept on display there."
As Vau rambles on, she is utterly distracted from the artifacts ostensibly under her care. You've past three quarters of an hour with her at least, and over that time, her voice has grown steadily louder with excitement almost unbecoming a woman her age. Of course, this turns out to be a blessing in disguise, for just as you distract Miss Vau, her rising voice has in turn distracted the phalanx guardsmen in the arcade.
Amandine's interruption breaks the spell of history holding you in place with Miss Vau, who seems none the wiser about Amandine's true purpose in the arcade, or her relation with you. Your question only throws the curator further off guard.
"Oh...well, I spend much of my time here in the senate, working in the restoration room or sorting through the archives. It can be so consuming. Otherwise, my family keeps a villa in Aroden's View, but I prefer strolling the beautiful parks in that neighborhood rather than whiling away time at home."
.....
Olivia and Amandine's work is a complete success, and the journal, spyglass, and silver dagger are purloined without any attention being drawn. However, the pair were so engrossed with their work that they missed the first servings of supper.
As the pair loitered in the Arcade of Triumphs, the senate's legion of servants begin ferrying out tables and platters to placate the guests who were otherwise bewildered by the Grand Prince's sudden arrival and just as abrupt disappearance.
Expensive cheeses, rare fruits, and flaky pastries are offered as repast - all accompanied by enough wine to seemingly sate Cayden Cailean himself (at least for a couple hours). The arrival of supper inspires a noticeable boost in the revelry's spirits, and guests renew their socialization in earnest.
You take the initiative to insinuate that the donated wine is actually a forgery, spinning a tale about how the Lotheed brothers hope to impress Oppara's upper crust with this trickery. Your gossip earn some interest, though little actual belief - at first.
.....
A smaller spectacle within the gala itself begins to form upon the western portico of the Arcade of Triumphs, overlooking the courtyard. The Taldan Phalanx guards cordon off the area for a select handful of guests as a special offering is made.
Borne along by a maid, done up like a debutante, is the large bottle of red wine donated by the Lotheed family. She carries it like a precious child in her arms, and a nobleman wearing the insignia of House Lotheed announces its serving. Only a select handful of senators, governors, and dukes have been allowed into this tasting, kept private yet fully on display to the guests in the courtyard.
.....
The distinguished nobles raise their glasses and toast to Taldor, the Grand Prince, and the soon-to-be exalted noble - although they do not bother to remember his name. Not moments after sipping or downing the wine, however, the nobles and senators are soon on the verge of retching - spitting and sputtering out the wine, offering none-too-refined descriptions of its vileness.
Soon, Lord Lotheed finds himself the target of far too many angry eyes, accusing fingers, and venomous tongues for his "rank imitation" of true vintage.
Photinè hides a slightly amused smile as the ‘refined’ nobles cough and sputter and struggle to regain their composure. She’d done the job well, and even added a little entertainment added to the evening.
After dinner, and more wine, Photinè makes her way to the Imperial Archives; she strikes up conversation with the guests there, trying to impress them with her grasp of occult magic.
When Tanglefoot is finished eating dinner, he heads back up to the Gallery to visit with Wyssilka, still harboring hopes of befriending the interesting halfling.
"So," he says to her when he makes his way to her, "Am I still the most interesting thing you've seen tonight? I saw the High Strategos swallow a baby whole earlier." He says the last part with utter sincerity and nonchalance as if it were nothing.
Chana, grinning broadly behind her veil, does her best to hide the amusement in her voice at the misery of the "distinguished" nobles. Seizing the initiative, she talks with her sudden (and likely ephemeral) fan base and does her best to gather some information despite quickly feeling more and more overwhelmed by the attention.
Tanglefoot's jest catches Wyssilka by surprise, thus ruining her pantomime performance as she erupts into a peal of sputtering laughter. Nevertheless, she seems pleased by the entertaining interruption.
"And he didn't even save any for the Grand Prince? How rude!" she jibes right back.
.....
Now that Countess Pace is thoroughly plied with wine, she is more open to friendly discourse - not to mention discussion of finery.
.....
Earl Calhadion Vernisant has a keen interest in history relating to General Arnisant, hero of the Shining Crusade. In particular, he looks for information or artifacts that he can use to solidify his tenuous genealogical connection to the legendary general. It is hardly a secret that the artifacts he donated to be displayed tonight are tokens he uses to further establish himself as a direct descendant of Arnisant.
On the other hand, successful efforts to disprove his lineage to Arnisant would surely strike a social blow against him. Could examination or research into the stolen artifacts aid in this regard?
.....
In the archives, Photinè only encounters two types of guests: either banal schmoozers who are utterly unconcerned with magic, or guests with a genuine interest in the occult that find her proffered information to be "old hat."
Unperturbed by her lack of success, or perhaps just unaware of it, Photinè continues to converse in the Archives; she talks up her own skills and practical experience with magic.
"I've yet to find an end to its applications," she enthuses to an interested noble. Were it not for the senate's restriction on magic, I would give you a demonstration of some of the more esoteric uses I've come upon."
The tall woman launches into a description of strange and unusual skills, the likes of which include, among others, hypnotism and prognostication.
Tanglefoot smiles, and his voice goes to nearly a whisper, as he continues to joke with the halfling, rather treasonously, "As I understand it, the Grand Prince is like a little baby bird, and he gobbles up whatever the High Strategos regurgitates."
"Did you ever hear the one about the time the Grand Prince asked me to tell a joke, and I just shrugged? I'm just a court gesture, after all."
"Alright, alright, so that was a pretty bad joke. But some people are having worse nights. Its fair to say that the Grand Prince is having a bad heir day."
Realizing that the Countess Pace is probably too risky a conversation partner, Chana wanders rather aimlessly through the Senate, avoiding any individuals that try to hail her after the act with the wine.
The evening had already gone on for a long time, and the endless pretending and acting had more than worn Chana out. She was ready to go back home and tear into some proper food, then maybe go out into the street for some fun. Thoughts of 'proper food' rather than the fancy plates served at dinner bring her back to the Servant's Wing.
Once there, she wanders about, hoping (perhaps foolishly) that there's some non-fancy grub in there... somewhere.
'Your 'ungry too aren't 'ya Snips? Let's see if we can't sneak somefin for ya.'
If the opportunity presents itself, she also observes any covert actions among the servants, trying to remember who they might be tied to in case its relevant later in the evening.
Amandine only nibbles at the food, though she does have a full glass of wine to celebrate no longer having to fret over the Vernisant items.
When she finds Lady Olivia she offers to turn the items over to her. "Book, spyglass, and dagger, as you requested" she reports to Olivia with a smile.
Mingling among the senators and other aristocrats gives Amandine some pause. She's not sure she can carry off anything winning enough in a chat. She would essentially be pretending to fit in among them, something she's never had to attempt before. Playing a role is one thing, doing so well enough to make an impression on those who live the role is another.
She decides the Countess Pace is a good enough beginner's experiment. From what she has gathered from the others, it would be no great loss to fail at charming her. As she approaches, Amandine decides to focus on fashion as a neutral enough icebreaker. She considers the Countess's rather ridiculous dress and thinks about turning lemons to lemonade.
"Countess Pace, it is lovely to finally see you in person. I must say your dress has turned every head with its exuberance!"
Amandine keeps her chat with the Countess brief, the better to avoid any slip ups. She introduces herself as a friend of Lady Lotheed's, but plays ignorant of Countess Pace's position as a voting senator. After a few minutes of clothing talk Amandine excuses herself.
"I must be on my way to tell Lady Lotheed what I'm hearing from almost everyone. Princess Eutropia's speech as really turned the tide of opinion. So many have to decided to vote against retaining primogeniture. I have no doubt the Princess will win tonight. I wonder if those few who insist on voting to preserve primogeniture are aware of just how long the Princess's memory is."
Photinè finds guests who are more receptive to her discussion of occultism; some of them even believe her humble boast about her own talents.
.....
Olivia drops off Martella's "borrowed" file folder back at the archives, thus completing her physically taxing share of the tasks. Now finding a moment to catch her breath, she finds she still has some time to enjoy the gala before the exaltation ceremony.
.....
Tanglefoot keeps the halfling woman, her painted face akin to a grinning raccoon, thoroughly in stitches - for the most part. While his jokes about the Grand Prince and the High Strategos leave her immaculate white teeth on display in a broad smile, his more pun-based joke falls a little flat.
Nevertheless, she seems to relish the attention. She beckons Tanglefoot closer and assembles a large throng of children, for she seems encouraged to try out a more elaborate trick.
"We have a lot of wee baby birds here tonight, all chirping and pecking for a place in the nest," she says, entwining her hands together and moving her fingers in a pantomime of a bird flapping its wings.
However, with a flick of her wrists, her upturned palms are suddenly holding a bird made of folded paper, drawn seemingly from thin air. The children offer a chorus of amazement, and several inch forward to try and touch the delicate paper bird.
"Uh, uh, uh," Wyssilka coyly warns them, moving her arms to keep the papercraft from the grasping hands. "If you touch the baby bird, it won't be welcome back into the nest. And then what will become of it?"
Punctuating this question, a small spark of crimson flame erupts within her palms to consume the papercraft. Emerging from the crackling flash, a live robin leaps from her hands and flits off in a tizzy, disappearing somewhere among the arching frescoes of the ceiling.
.....
Chana's return to the servants' area is actually welcomed by some of the attending staff, who have seemingly come to recognize her as a more sympathetic example of the "lords 'n' ladies in 'tendance tonight." They are less on edge around her, allowing her to make some keen observations.
.....
Amandine catches Countess Pace as she is returning to the gallery, walking in the direction of where the halfling performer and her troupe have been entertaining the children. Despite how much wine she has had, the Countess' step has never wobbled, even though it has previously loosened her venomous tongue. However, even her social tact has been restored now that, seemingly, the barely sensible amount of Ligosian cheese she's consumed is soaking up the alcohol.
"Oh my, yes indeed," she agrees, flattered by the compliment on her fashion. "Tonight promises to be a grand step forward for well-bred women such as ourselves, the best that Taldor has to offer."
Countess Pace seems on the cusp of utter endearment to Amandine. She bids her to walk with her so that they can continue to discuss the vote, the princess, and how to carry Taldan society ever higher - with the implication that you will ride high atop such a tide.
Tanglefoot decides to spend the rest of the evening entertaining the children and any nobles that happen to come to check on them. He also chats and jokes with Wysillka, and tries to follow her lead in the entertainments, as a guest.
Chana sticks to the servants area. Maybe she's just getting used to the skulduggery among the servants, but they seem far more level headed and reasonable than the last time she was here.
She locates a napkin, a chicken drumstick, and a quiet alcove to sit in, and digs in. As she eats she digests both what she's seen so far this evening and reviews what she's done herself. A lot had been spur of the moment. The details are already slipping away from her. She shrugs. It doesn't matter too much.
Instead, she resumes her observations and occasional greetings of the servants coming by.
At least initially she seems more distracted by her food than anything else. After she's done eating, she devotes more of her attention towards the people scurrying through the halls.
Gratified by the attention, Photinè continues to speak about her favorite subjects; magic, and herself. She even goes so far as to lean in conspiratorially and encourage the attentive guests to call on her in her summer house here in Oppara, should they desire to experience her abilities in person.
Countess Pace's request catches Amandine off-guard. She hadn't planned to spend any length of time conversing with particular people. Doing so would only increase the chances Amandine would be recognized as someone who has far more in common with the help than the guests. But Amandine can see no way to decline the Countess's request without putting the progress she thinks she's made at risk, so she agrees.
Calling for wine for the Countess and herself, Amandine links arms with her to cement their budding friendship as they walk to the children's area, and continues to lay out her predictions.
"There is no reason to doubt Princess Eutropia will succeed Grand Prince Stavian. When she does, the tides will shift. The Princess has her own set of advisors and confidants. They will replace the current set at the apex of influence. And of course it will be at the expense of the old."
"It is true that Princess Eutropia has expressed certain preferred ideals and policies, but politics will not change. I think we can agree it is fair to say Grand Prince Stavian has been less responsible for Taldor's recent history than those he holds close. Such is the nature of Taldor's politics. To the extent minor things like primogeniture go by the wayside, it will happen in ways that benefit those who guide her decisions, and implement the specifics of policy. People are people, and those closest to her will craft the new and trim the old to their own benefit. Really then, it is a matter of recognizing the change in the wind and tacking one's sails to catch it in time..."
If Amandine's view of Eutropia's potential reign seems rather jaundiced, it's also not too far from her true thinking. Whatever she might hope for herself, she's all too aware that promises of changes which benefit Taldor's people is not much to hand her hat on. The powerful always mean "people" selectively, and in ways that always include themselves first and foremost.
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Lady Olivia Vernisant quickly tidies herself up after her labour, takes a glass of wine (and a pretty good swig of it), and then marches to Earl Vernisant.
Olivia looks him in the eyes. This is the man who has controlled her his entire life. She has defied him before, but not like this.
"Good evening Father. Did you enjoy your dinner?" She says with only the slightest of smirks on her face.
Upon the gallery, Tanglefoot continues to make a fool of himself, much to the delight of the gathered children who clap and cheer.
Elsewhere, away from the noble crowds but nonetheless among the hustle and bustle, Chana has cemented her reputation for treating the servants with respect. During fleeting moments when she slips into her dialect, rather than looks of derision, she earns smiling nods of approval.
Photinè soon finds herself the center of a small crowd within the archives, attracting far more interest than the disorganized legion of books, senate minutes, and genealogical records.
As Amandine continues to speak, Countess Pace begins to suspect that Miss Santon does not have the social clout that she craves. Thus, her interest begins to wane. Nevertheless, the countess continues to accompany Amandine, allowing her or others to rekindle her interest.
A woman, broad of hip and shoulder, saunters over. The robes of a distinguished chef are stretched across her bosom and paunch, and a puffed-up white hat upon her short, dark hair completes the look.
"The name's Dedrien Nos," she declares with an accent that would be right at home on the streets you're familiar with. "If ya can't guess, I'm the 'ead chef for the senate. I 'ppreciate ya treatin' my staff so nicely. Even more so, I 'ppreciate you not gettin' in their way. Anyways, I been holdin' onto these ta 'elp some noble worth savin' - an' I think I found 'er."
Nos retrieves two very small tin flasks from one of the myriad pockets along her chef's robes, holding them out for you. She explains that they are potions meant to delay the effects of poison.
"Useful when you make the wrong enemies - or the wrong friends, for that matter."
"Oh well, I suppose I should be grateful that you're keeping anyone's attention around here. I gave up on it long ago. The books are reliable company."
The old librarian finally introduces himself as Pabrus Telecoum, one of the senior curators of the archives. Piqued by your discussion of magic, he presses a dog-eared and crumbling journal, unbidden and unexpected, into your arms.
"Perhaps this would be of interest to you," Pabrus muses, more so to himself. "It's the journal of a young wizardess that was donated for our collections...but, we found it rather unsalvageable. Some of the surviving parts were a bit too tawdry, eh?" he says with a jab of his elbow and a cocked eyebrow. "Anyhow, please take it. Perhaps it might serve as an interesting conversation piece on your table."
Pabrus turns and shuffles off, not waiting for a response. He continues to mutter to himself as he goes.
He offers you no words as you approach - only a glare that bespeaks heightened bewilderment. His discomposure is compounded by the sudden appearance of the daughter he is loathe to speak of. Earl Vernisant’s paramount belief is the importance of bloodlines and family history, seeing them as cornerstones of leadership potential. Only his adoration for seeing political enemies crushed comes close to equaling this passion for familial honor.
Thus, he readily and wordlessly accepts you as a new political enemy. He turns on his heel and marches away, into the Arcade of Triumphs. You imagine that, by morning, any last ties you kept with your family will be forcibly severed by your father’s decree.
Amandine senses Countess Pace's loss of interest. While she's a little disappointed she could not bring the Countess farther along, Amandine also understands the need to not throw more time away after the time she just lost by extending her conversation with the woman. She's not one of Amandine's favorite people anyway.
As they reach the children's area, Amandine quickly makes her farewell and drifts off to the Courtyard. She mingles there for a while, moving among the people and listening for opportunities. When she hears conversations involving Oppara in some way, she makes introductions and adds some contribution.
Restaurants, cafes, clubs, performance venues and the celebrities to be found there, clothiers, antiquarians, purveyors of fine and rare items, esoteric books (of course), Amandine has long worked hard to make it her business to keep on top of such things and she makes suggestions and recommendations regarding what is most current and appropriate to fit the subject at hand.
Chana accepts the gifts from the chef, a little confused how her relaxing here had managed to endear herself to the servants. Regardless, the more natural speech of the chef, together with the simple and straightforward attitude she brings, lowers Chana's walls enough for her to respond "Thank ya, Missus Nos. I real 'ppreciate it, I do."
Realizing she might've slipped up, she rapidly gets up and curtsies and then coughs. "Something in my throat, I would guess. Thank you."
Before she reveals too much more, she strides out of the servants area and goes in search of some of her allies.
With her missions for Martella accomplished, and nothing pressing to pursue with the other nobility, Chana finds that she would very much like the company of people she knows, however slim that acquaintance may be. She heads on out, spotting Amandine and Photine, but uncertain about the two of them, she continues on to the Arcade of Triumphs. Once there, she spots Olivia and steps over to her.
"How are you managing? All business done?"
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"Well, yes, but I'm working on a uhm... personal project. Well, you heard about some of it back at the meeting, do you remember? I'm in a feud with my father, and I'm in the middle of trying to impress upon him that I'm a suitable diplomat by weaving this room to my favour."
Then she gets and idea.
"Would you be interested in doing a favour for me? I'd like someone to go up to him and put in a good word about me. The more praise the better, but please don't lie."
Photinè thanks the librarian as he shuffles away, and looks down at the journal in her hands. She opens the worn cover and delicately turns the crackling pages, skimming what words she can make out.
Tucking the journal carefully in her skirt pocket, she leaves the Archives, searching for her next diversion.
Everywhere she looks, it seems, another familiar face dominates the conversation; with a smile, Photinè helps herself to a substantial glass of Chatèau 4699 and floats around the gala. She gives little nods and waves of acknowledgement when she passes someone she knows, ready to assist if needed, but mostly simply enjoying herself.
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"Talk to your father? The... uh... Lord? Earl? Vernisant? Are you certain that you think I can aid you with that?" Chana is caught off guard by this request to act as Olivia's herald. She picks her words carefully , trying not to slip in her vocabulary as she boggles at the difficulty of the task. "Just, a good word? I think maybe I can manage that."
Chana stiffly makes her way over to where the Earl is speaking with one of his guests. She awkwardly curtsies "Hello good sirs. I recently had the pleasure of speaking to your... uh, wonderful daughter Lord Vernisant. Olivia truly is-" Chana realizes she's spent very little time this evening in Olivia's company, and that she's learned only a few things about her. "-devoted to her goddess! And very knowledgeable as well. Must have been thanks to your fine tutelage."
Realizing rapidly that Olivia might've thrown her under the proverbial "bus", she executes another hasty curtsy and a "Thank you for your time. If you'll excuse me..." before striding away.
Amandine abandons Countess Pace and finds much more appreciation for her input on he Opparan scene among the guests in the courtyard, making quite the splash.
Photinè finds that the journal, perhaps a couple hundred years old, is the surprisingly compelling tale of the young wizard's growth to womanhood and inheriting her family's business in Cassomir.
Meanwhile, in the arcade, the indignation practically leaps from Earl Vernisant's face. Olivia watches her father's expression and wonders which incenses him more: being accosted by Chana, hearing her pour praises about his daughter like a rusty sieve, or countenancing that this is the ilk of company that his rebellious child has taken to keeping.
His mood is not much improved when others in the arcade also hail Lady Olivia with favor and cheer. When Copernia Vau approaches Earl Vernisant to compliment his daughter's knowledge of history, he seems ready to storm out of the senate building entirely.
.....
A new hum of excitement passes along the crowds as the call goes out: the Senate will now convene to discuss the evening's docket of matters, the primary of which is the long-awaited vote on primogeniture.
You join the many spectators vying for the best positions on the gallery to view the historic senate session. As you begin elegantly elbowing your way into place, you discover yourselves again in the presence of Malphene Trant.
However, in addition to her coterie of sycophantic swains - you can't even be sure if they're the same ones as before - she is now escorted by a bodyguard of sorts: a tall, gangly woman possessed of a boyish frame and indeterminate mixed heritage, appearing to be some blend of Ulfen and elven, suggested by her tapering yet crooked ears.
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Dark skinned, knobbly kneed, crooked and long all over, Greenly slouches in her poorly fitted costume, er, uniform. She hated performing for these nobles, but hey, it got her out of the house, and a job like this was a step closer to the Ulfen guard. With long slender fingers, she tweedles with the Trant pin on her collar and pushes her thick braid off her shoulder, when suddenly, she catches sight of a woman she was told to keep an eye out for. That drunk 40 year old b+*$% who insulted her client.
She straightens up, hand on her peacebound weapon. "Hey lady," she starts, tapping Malphene on the arm. "Are these the ones?" the young woman continues, nodding towards the party. "I mean, like, are these the people that Mr. Senator said, like, threatened you or some crap?" The dark skinned woman snorts and sticks a finger up her nose. "They don't look so tough. I bet you could have taken them yourself, miss. But don't worry," she pulls out a wad of mucus with an ungracious laugh, walking closer. "I'll protect you. I promise."
She flicks the booger in the direction of Martella's agents, sticking out her tongue and making an ugly face. Her eyes, rolled back presently, are particularly noteworthy: almond shaped like those of the elves, one ice blue and the other violet, with long sweeping lashes under perfect eyebrows. Her sneer offers a clear image of her straight and likewise perfect teeth. Clearly, despite her out of place behavior and apparent low status, this is a woman used to both comfort and luxury.
Amandine was elsewhere when her compatriots encountered Malphene Trant. She does not recognize the woman, or any of her coterie. The rather large, uniformed young woman does catch her attention. She might be a half-elf, which is notable to Amandine, but she's not completely sure. Her appearance is... off, not exactly deformed but strange enough for her to wonder if the woman has elven blood or it's just an impression her generally odd appearance creates.
The spindly woman seems very upset at them, or maybe someone directly behind us? But Amandine can't follow what she's mouthing on about. Her display is so over the top, Amandine does wonder if maybe she is a jester, maybe a particularly crass version of their own Tanglefoot?
But the woman drops no cues at all suggesting she is playing for laughs... Maybe the poor thing has some mental deficiency to go along with her unusual body? Maybe she's a jester in the sense of being laughed at? If so it is cruel.
In any case the vote is nearly at hand. Amandine carefully ignores the woman and works through the crowd to find a good vantage point.
She regards the scroll with interest before placing it back in the journal for safekeeping.
---
Photinè makes a noise of disgust as she regards Malphene Trant and her new bodyguard, and brushes a hand over her dress and hair to make sure the woman's bodily substances haven't found a home on her person.
"Garce morveux. Do the Trants just collect these brutes, or have they had to stoop to paying them?" she mutters to the others.
Then, gathering her skirt in one hand, she sashays toward Malphene's group with a smile on her face. "Miss Trant!" She exclaims, her voice dripping with feigned enthusiasm. "How lovely to see you again! Are you enjoying the evening so far?"
She is baiting the woman, and knows it, but can't imagine that anyone would dare to make a scene here in the middle of the senate, especially with so many influential people about.
'En oaf, ain't she Snips?'
Chana leans against the railing, for the moment turning away from the beginning of the senate proceedings below to take in the appearance of the hostile new woman and the return of Ms. Trant. She thinks towards her familiar, getting a bundle of agitated emotion in response.
People like this new woman were common enough on the streets, loud sorts that liked to throw their weight around, and without any kind of canniness to back it up. Heavies were usually the first to die when two gangs had a clash. Of course, this lady looked almost funny, rough enough in the way she spoke, but all dressed up in silly noble's clothes and makeup.
A -snerk- escapes Chana's mouth before she controls herself. She covers it by coughing (unconvincingly).
She murmurs in response to Photine "-maybe they grow them?" but lets the older woman take the lead in engaging Miss Trant.