"Apologies for not visiting sooner, my lord. Renovations at Stachys have finally slowed from their breakneck pace, and between that and familiarizing myself with my new neighbors things have been hectic indeed. Allow me to introduce Lady Faenia Jarlborn and Miss Valery Arlandt, newly arrived in the county and our guests at Betony Manor." Acutely aware of the letter folded up in the inside breast pocket of his coat, Marius completes the pleasantries of introduction and the seating of the party at the sumptuous table.
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Faenia bows deeply, but in a feminine way, and then inclines her head, and with a thicker than normal accent, adds to what Marius said, ”I have come from the Fog Peaks on my Father’s business - though what that business is - this remains to be seen, ja?”
She has something of a conspiratorial look, and raises an eyebrow, ”the Lord Marius has told me that you were a man of some importance? Yes? Well, I - I am trying just to live up to my father’s wishes. A burden… I suppose is the word. But I have heard your manage Meratt well. He has struggled to adjust - of course - he just wishes to be of service to Taldor, as all my people do.”
She is hesitant, for a moment, ”forgive me for being forward - it is just that I feel as if I could learn a good deal from Meratt. Perhaps then I could… well, live up to the Landgrave’s expectations…” She looks troubled, for a moment, pained, as if a shadow passed over her.
Still bustling about in the guise of Yanda, Barcos notices the party’s arrival.
”Good, glad they’ve made it.”
With the plan in motion, Barcos begins subtly looking for any particularly good escape routes for both himself and the party.
The palace servants are bustling in preparation for the visit, and making sure that everything goes well during the guests' stay. Now quite familiar with the layout of the palace, Barcos feels confident that he can navigate it with ease - although there is still the matter of the tower and several rooms on the upper floor, spaces where servants are not allowed and which remain a mystery as a consequence.
The atmosphere among the servants is a little tense, and even the guards are muttering among themselves. It seems that the rumours of the party's exploits have reached their ears, and more than one unflattering comparison is made with Count Lotheed - unflattering for the count, that is.
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Velvet takes in the splendor of the reception before her as well at the entrance, noting the perhaps-envy, perhaps sneer of Count Lotheed towards Marius with curiosity - and then she focused .
Bartelby was a good liar. He presented a (mostly) polite and stoic exterior that was hard to read into.
But she had lived and breathed lies and empty flattery her entire life and to her, he was just par for the course. His miniscule yet unmistakable placating gestures towards his neck region belied a nervous man - quite possibly afraid. The question was what that meant - what it would lead to next. A trap?
She recalled the description of the Count from the letter, how difficult it had been for either Rose or especially Lisa to charm him. If anything, the only thing known of him was that he seemed to appreciate intellectual discussions. She doubted any ploy revolving around attraction was going to work on him, especially with Gul starting at them like he hoped the look would politely nudge the group to fall over dead.
But if Faenia wished to try a submissive approach, she wouldn't stop her.
"Thank you for your offer of hospilatity on such short notice, my Lord," She does a polite bow, fitting of his station, upon Marius' introduction and puts up a good impersonation of warm smile."Unlike lady Faenia, I'm afraid I am simply a bastard daughter seeking refuge from the trouble in the capitol city. Though, when I found out you possesed one of the most grand libraries in perhaps the entire nation, I couldn't help to be excited. I can't deny the scholar in me is most interested in the writings and collections of such an esteemed arcane family - though of course I would hesitate to ask."
As such, she'd repeated multiple agreed upon keywords of warning between the group members, in turn being 'Afraid', 'Trouble' and 'Found Out' along with 'Perhaps' and 'Hesitate' as clarifying ones in as natural a conversation as possible. There was a good chance the Count suspected them, but hesitated to act outright.
She allows herself to be seated regardless, taking care to taste and scent the appetizers just slightly quicker than her compatriots, taking care to from then stick to small samples of each consequent dish. Calling upon hard-earned lessons and experiences from another life, she tried to recognize the various common poisons, but found none - and communicated such with a nod and compliments regarding the food so long as the conversation -whether or not it was all that pleasant- in the garden endured.
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Count Lotheed's gaze flicks to Faenia and Valerie as they are introduced. He has too much self-control to raise an eyebrow, but somehow the rest of his expression manages to convey polite consternation.
"Lady Jarlborn, welcome to Meratt. I am humbled by your assessment. But then, you are to inherit your father's estate? 'Burden' does seem the right word, but I shall do my best to impart my knowledge of governance."
He turns to Valerie, his demeanour rather colder than it had been with Faenia, and she gets the sudden insight that introducing herself as a bastard daughter has struck a sore spot in the count. After all, Martella herself was a bastard daughter, and Bartelby had never forgiven her for that. "Miss Arlandt, a pleasure. Is there a particular topic of scholarship you are interested in?"
The lunch proceeds as well as it could be expected, with Count Lotheed asking about their news - although he seems rather well-informed; while he affects surprise and even astonishment at some of the tales, they're not genuine. He shares a few tidbits of meaningless gossip about the other nobles in turn, making empty conversation while seemingly assessing them.
After the meal, he offers a tour of the gardens, which is extensive and takes several hours. He does not offer a tour of the palace itself, and Faenia's suggested request to see the library is ignored. At all times, the seneschal is only a couple of steps behind him. Dinner is not in the grand ballroom, like for he Jubilee, but in a smaller dining room on the ground floor. While the count is infallibly polite and gracious as a host, there is an undeniable reserve and watchfulness.
"Lady Jarlborn, welcome to Meratt. I am humbled by your assessment. But then, you are to inherit your father's estate? 'Burden' does seem the right word, but I shall do my best to impart my knowledge of governance."
She shakes her head, slightly, ”no, my Lord. I am not to inherit anything. But in my culture, I am expected to act as something of a steward while my father is gone. But I have no skill in this. I had been traveling here in the south when he asked me to survey other lords with skill, respectfully… erm, to see if I could ‘learn anything’.” She seems slightly ashamed and embarrassed.
She also looks embarrassed slightly, and adds, ”while I appreciate the kind words - I am neither a lady, nor a Jarlborn - merely Faenia. It would not be my place to elevate myself above my station, I think. But this country allowed my family so much already, it would be unfair to complain.” She bows to him, ”thank you for the offer - I shall listen with the ‘keen ears of the arctic fox’.”
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Count Lotheed smiles faintly. "Ah, yes, stewardship is a difficult and thankless undertaking. I commend you on your diligence to better yourself. And you said your father is away?" Bartelby continues making conversation with his guests, and Faenia can sense that he is beginning to take an interest in her - or rather, her father. He scrutinizes her as if trying to see what the ties are with the rest of the group, and she can almost see the cogs of his mind turning as he subtly probes her about the landgrave's political inclinations.
She hesitates a moment, ”back to the fog peaks, last time I saw him. We speak from time to time with magic - but he has matters to attend to and is quite busy. For all of his wealth and skill, he cannot invent more time than there is.” She looks ruefully towards the north, as if recalling something fondly.
She raises an eyebrow, ”in any event - as for his - what do you call it” she searches for the word, ”position? on the successor of Lord Stavian, the High Strategos, Lord Maxillar Pythareus makes a compelling case. The Landgrave knows him quite well, and respects his skill, but as you know - he remains neutral. The Guard have also not chosen - and I am sure I do not have to tell you why.” She tilts her head, knowingly.
She folds her arms, ”he is not much for this skullduggery and scheming but if all the senators and lords and such are keeping this to themselves, why not him?”
As the dinner winds its way down and goodnights are made, Marius retires to his guest chambers and catches a few hours' sleep--an old infantry habit that serves him better than pacing. Awakening not long after midnight, he peeks into the hall just in case guards have been posted, then quietly dresses and arms himself.
Preparations complete, he steps into the hall and greets the others with a nod. "To the tower, quick and quiet now. We'll avoid fighting if we can, and avoid killing if we can't. Let's move."
"Fair enough, Miss Faenia. And you must think me incredibly rude to talk politics when you've just arrived. Have you seen the peacocks?" Bartelby smoothly changes the topic, touring his guests through the extensive palace gardens.
The palace is quiet at this time of night, the servants asleep. A left down the corridor, past other guest rooms, the sauna and the public bath, then a right into the waiting room with its plush couches and armchairs. To the north, a double door leads into what Barcos discovered was a guardroom, defending the entrance to the tower.
Through the thick wood, muffled voices and the occasional clinking of glass can be heard.
Once the others signal readiness Marius quietly pads down the hall until the doors to the royal suite, which he quickly and professional scans for traps before waving the others forward to open the way.
velvet follows close behind, throwing a glance to the guard room. She was outwardly dressed in an evening gown, courtesy of the Sleeves of Many garments she wore. In reality it was her normal travel outfit. While the effect of appearing less harmful was rather marred by the crossbow hanging from her pack, she hoped there would still be some advance notice of anyone approaching and being able to improvise.
She moves forward when indicated, nodding at Marius before checking to see if it was open - and then lockpicking it to the best of her ability should it be needed.
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Rapping smartly upon the door, Marius waits for it to be answered before stepping into the guard room as though he were their commanding officer on a surprise inspection.
"Good evening, thank you. Apologies for the lateness of the hour, but momentous changes are afoot in Meratt County and I thought it best if you were informed directly." After a brief examination of the room like any readiness check, Marius nods as though satisfied and adopts an at-ease stance. "As you may or may not be aware, the Birdsong Palace and its grounds are the direct property of House Stavian. Effective immediately, the Crown Princess Eutropia Stavian is reasserting her family claim and will be taking up residence here quite soon. We are here to ascertain that all is safe and made ready for her arrival, at which point the County will be directly administered by House Stavian going forward. Count Lotheed will be informed of these changes presently."
He holds eye contact with the guards' commanding officer. "As for yourselves, your cooperation is appreciated but your presence is not required. You'll be paid out a sizeable bonus in recompense for the disruption to your schedules, and in all likelihood returned to your posts once the Crown Princess has settled in. Dismissed."
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Much to Marius's surprise, the three lounging in the guardroom and enjoying some rather fine brandy are no guards, but Titus Lotheed-Casava and his two hangers-on, Dame Carodd Hellebore and Syras Cockleburr, Esquire. Titus gazes insolently at Marius over the glass's rim before slowly setting it down and rising to his feet, right fist on his weapon belt.
"Oh, bravo, what a speech. I'm sure it would have fooled those stupid guards, too, if only they weren't sick, or at their dog's funeral or whatever silly excuses they've invented to not show up for work today. Very curious, that." He grins, his expression a mixture of anticipation and glee. "Instead I'm doing my cousin a favour and seeing to it that no... unauthorized persons enter the royal suite. So unless your last name is Stavian, Lord Erallan, I'm afraid it is your presence that is not required here." He brings his left hand near his mouth and addresses his friends in a stage whisper. "And even if it were Stavian, I don't give a fig's arse. That princess is all bark and no bite." He looks at Marius again, his nostrils flaring. "Although I do hope you make the stupid move here, I've been itching to teach you a lesson."
Syras Cockleburr grins at that, reaching for his own sword, but Dame Hellebore hesitates. "Titus, I don't know if this is a good idea." Titus barely spares her a scornful look before returning his attention to Marius. "Don't worry, I won't ask you to fight him. You can take out his lackeys, I see he's acquired some new ones. No loyalty among these people, I suppose."
Barcos gives a shrug, "If you're intent on a lesson being taught, could be worth assessing who'll teach who. His lackeys, as you call 'em, can put up a good fight as well."
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"Ah, Titus. Taking a break from shooting unarmed commoners, I see." He raises a calming hand to Barcos, though he's not displeased with the backup. Reaching into his coat, he produces the letter of denunciation. "Dame Hellebore is right, fighting us is a bad idea. This here is a letter of censure signed by every noble of Meratt County save the Count himself." He return the letter to his coat before anyone gets any stupid ideas. "Meratt has lanquished under the Lotheeds' negligent care for decades now--new leadership is needed, for the sake of the county and country alike. We even have the Duchess' blessing. Bartleby really doesn't have a leg to stand on--legally, politically, or morally--and that means you have even less than that, Titus. Surrender your weapon and be banished from the county, or we enforce House Stavian's claim by more direct means." He gives Dame Hellebore a significant glance. "There's nothing to gain by fighting us, and a great deal to be gained by cooperating."
When it becomes clear the door contains what is likely a group of partying guards, Velvet presses herself flat against the wall next to the door just before Marius opens it. She initially takes out her sap, resolving to take out the guards alive if at all possible as they'd done nothing wrong and were no major threat to their cause - potential allies even if the ploy worked.
But when she hears Titus - of all people - and his words of animosity, she blinks and ever so gently re-sleeves the sap to take out her crossbow. They still weren't entirely sure what the link was between Titus and the Iron Lash but she wasn't going to take *any* chances if it could be helped at all. Hopefully, Marius could convince all of them to stand down. If not, Titus was the one who went first.
...he was a horrible dancer, after all.
None of the three seem to notice Velvet in her shadowed corner.
"A stern letter, o-ho! And I see they've sent their armies to enforce it, too... oh wait, no they didn't." Syras laughs at that, which seems to boost Titus's swagger. "If you think to take this palace with just the three of you, then you're a bigger idiot than I expected - and I have very low expectations of you. I should probably offer you a chance to surrender, but I don't want to spoil the fun. I'll just say I did, and you refused."
With that, he draws his weapon, an Aldori dueling sword, and Syras draws his rapier.
"I should probably offer you a chance to surrender, but I don't want to spoil the fun. I'll just say I did, and you refused."
A shadow moves and an arrow flies into Titus before he so much as takes a single step!
Then it explodes.
"Pardon my manners; did I break your monologue? The conversation was dragging."
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The explosion briefly bathes the room into blinding light and the smell of smoke powder rises sharply as Titus is thrown back against the double doors behind him by the force of the blow. His fine coat, vest and shirt are now reduced to smoking tatters, and the fine chain underneath is blackened. The skin on his unprotected face, throat and hands is red and raw, and he looses a guttural cry of pain and surprise.
"There's more of them!" cries out Syras, advancing on Marius with his rapier drawn. He feints, getting around his opponent's guard and scoring a deep cut on the inside of Marius's arm.
"Damn it!" curses Titus, getting into stance with dueling sword in one hand, while with the other he's patting out the last embers on his incinerated clothes. His strikes are precise and controlled, despite the shock and pain he must be in.
Dame Carodd Hellebore watches wide-eyed, her hand hesitating over a slit in her dress, for the moment not joining the fray.
Titus -36 HP
He'd known that Titus was a skilled duelist, but Marius was less than pleased to have the point driven home quite so literally--and this Syras villain was no slouch either. Gritting his teeth against the paint, Koriana's Blade flashes free of its scabbard.
"Titus Lotheed-Casava," Marius' voice reverberates strangely, his eyes darkening to black like ink filling a pool. "You have been found wanting in Heaven's sight. Judgement comes."
Quietly, in a strange language, Faenia casts a spell on Velvet, making her more accurate with a blade and allowing her the opportunity to make someone else more accurate and dangerous as well.
"Marius!" Velvet calls out, seeing him take three hits in quick succession. Expecting him to fall over at any moment, a familiar tap on her back rouses her from momentary indecision and she re-finds her calm. "Thank you, Lotti."
Faded from view and drawing her rapier, she weaves in between the melee of the three swordsman only to thrust straight at Titus' nether regions! "How's *this* for low expectations?"
"...Oh. Is that it? Honestly, I *am* disappointed." She looks at Silas. "You have exactly one strike."
Barcos places a hand on Marius’ shoulder as his hand glows with healing light, ”Not time to go down yet, still got the good fight to fight.”
Marius retaliates with a devastating cut that rends Titus's armor and leaves him bleeding profusely from a chest wound. Barcos heals Marius, Faenia boosts her newfound allies and Lotti makes Velvet vanish with her magic, granting her the element of surprise again. Her strike easily finds its mark, dipping low and finding a vital point. Titus collapses in a growing pool of blood.
Dame Hellebore cries out and drops to her knees at his side, but she is clearly no healer. Her hands pat his still body desperately, in a panic, trying to staunch the blood. Syras blanches, swallows, looking from one determined face to another.
"Er, right. Let's... let's not be hasty, here." He swallows again, holding Velvet's gaze as he slowly and deliberately lets his rapier drop.
Marius: -29 HP
It happens very quickly, Titus falling and the resulting surrender. Even a casual glance tells her the man is either already dead or mere moments from it. Seeing Marius mostly all right - if possessed by a strange zeal just then- and not being entirely unsympathetic to Dame Hellebore, her anger fades. In order to keep options regarding Titus open for now, immediate action was needed.
"Your call. He tried to kill you twice. Mercy or an example? A hard choice, but it must be made right now." She mutters to Marius.
"What is he to you?" The Shelynite softly asks Dame Hellebore as she does her best to identify points requiring pressured binding and doing so with rapidly cut strips of the man's own cravat and cape.
"Mercy," Marius answers Velvet. He assists Velvet's first-aid work with his own Stabilize spell before applying a bit of healing to himself.
Turning to Syras, the inquisitor lets his expression harden as he kicks the rapier away. "Face down on the floor, Cockleburr. This is your final chance to do the smart thing--cooperate and you'll live. Give us any trouble and no one will save you." Assuming the man complies, Marius quickly binds his hands and feet before rising and turning back to Hellebore.
"I thank you for your forbearance, Dame, as does the Crown Princess. I hope we've made our honorable intentions clear, no one will come to harm this night unless they instigate the violence."
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"What is he to you?" The Shelynite softly asks Dame Hellebore.
"Childhood companion. A friend, I suppose. Mine and Syras's meal ticket, if you want to be cynical." answers Dame Carodd as she wipes her bloody hands on her skirts. "Thank you for sparing him, although I know he hasn't made that easy for you."
She watches Syras lie on the floor as his hands are bound and both him and Titus are relieved of their weapons. She slowly reaches into a fold of her dress with one hand, the other held up with the palm facing outward. "Here, as my gesture of good faith." She retrieves a wand and hands it to Marius.
"So, you are you really here on her authority? The princess, I mean. The count thought you were making a power play of your own."
Velvet searches Titus and Syras with quick, efficient moves. Aside from their weapons - Titus had a very fine Aldori dueling sword, and Syras a rapier, both magically enhanced - she finds a curative potion on Titus as well as his signet ring. His armour and cloak are also magical.
Accepting the wand with a nod of understanding, Marius tucks it into his coat pocket and gestures towards the door. "Quickly now, fast and direct. Velvet, you're on trap-clearing duty."
The door is not trapped, but it is most definitely locked. The thick wood is covered in filigreed gilded brass, which masks the sturdy-looking lock.
Informed of the rapier's magical quality, Velvet takes it and tucks it on the other side of her sword belt. "On it. Which of us should take the ring?" She asks as she takes out her tools and beging working on the lock with the exact same technique Rose once used in the sewers of Riddleport. She doesn't seem to get a proper grip the first time, but the second attempt goes much better, performed with obviously well-practised hands.
It takes several long minutes for Velvet to defeat the lock, this may well be one of the most - if not the most - difficult and complex lock she has ever attempted.
Finally, it gives way. Beyond it, the air is still and dusty, and the light from the guardroom glints off myriad places. An overstuffed, roughly triangularly shaped office that is fit for a king, with every surface and object an example of expert artistry and all but dripping with gold leaf. A large desk of dark, fragrant wood decorated with a pair of golden candlesticks fills most of the space, while carved cherubs dance among storm clouds all through the plaster moulding above.
Dame Hellebore peeks curiously through the door, letting out a low, impressed whistle.
Faenia is waiting and waiting watching carefully, prepared to help if she is needed.
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velvet wipes the sweat from her brow. "That... wasn't a normal lock, nor even a good or intricate one. That was Abadar's own personal avatar of grouchiness, sent to inflict greusome torment upon us poor agents of change. Well, I'll tip my hat to you, dear piece of metal. You put up a very good fight."
She then unceremoneously kicks it into the office, sliding over the floor in front of them as she waits to see if - or more like hoping - some intricate arcane trap would blow it to the tiniest possible smithereens.
As Velvet steps into the room, she notices that one of the cherubs is holding a wand - just as a bright blue electrical arc issues from it to strike her; clearly there is a trap here, and it was configured for people, not objects.
A quick spin and jump backwards saves her from the worst of the blast and she's left with a very painful and numb arm rather than something worse. "All right. That was my mistake. Clearly there's some advanced traps here and I *should* have gone with my immediate instinct to have good Syras walk in in front of us. He seems healthy enough and owes us quite a bit of pain."
The message was delivered through gritted teeth and whether or not she was joking, she holds back in the doorway for now.
The pain passes and the Vigilante takes a deep breath. "All right. A magical trap from a wand, based on proximity. But it does not react to objects. Thus..."
The dagger flies directly at the wand, hitting hit squarely and topping it from the grip of the statue.
The next dagger delivers what remains of Titus' ruined cravat to cover it. "There. That should do it."
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Once the wand is removed, Velvet is fairly certain that the trap is no longer functional.
After very carefully checking the northern door for traps, Velvet opens it into the next room. Bookshelves and paintings line the walls in this large space, where warm colours, plush carpeting and overstuffed furniture combine to give the feeling of coziness and comfort while the scent of tobacco hangs faintly in the air.
One of the large painting frames is empty. A mall plaque on the bottom reads "My Veleto, in loving memory. P."
Two doors stand closed on either side of the entrance, leading to other rooms west and east.
Walking a slow circuit of the room, Marius contemplates the plaque on the blank painting. He thinks about loss, and obsession, and wonders how much like the Duchess the trompe l'oeil really is. Then he shrugs and moves towards the doorways leading east and west.
"East first, I think."
To the east is an opulently appointed bathroom, all marble, porcelain and gilded pitchers. A large mirror in an ornate frame occupies most of the northern wall. A small rosewood cabinet contains scented oils in bottles of exquisitely cut crystal.
The western door opens into what appears to be a nursery, with two small beds and a soft blanket laid out on the floor, toys and wooden blocks scattered over it. Painted lions cavort along the walls, moving through simple patters. Ascending stairs curve against the western wall.
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Seeing Velvet still injured from her shocking encounter with the trap, Barcos produces a birch wand from a fold of his rags, "You're a bit hurt. Hold still."
He mutters a few incantations and with two precise movements of his wand, heals Velvet's remaining scorch marks.
"Here's hoping they didn't trap the playroom," Marius grimmaces at the thought and proceeds up the stairs.
Seeing movement under the farthest bed, Marius stops. Slowly, a boy of about seven or eight with pale skin and dark hair crawls from underneath the bed, looking up shyly at Marius.
"You're not auntie," he whispers, barely audible. "Have you come to play with me? Oh please, please, play with me! I haven't seen auntie in ages, and nobody else ever comes, I'm all alone."
Marius' breath catches as the child climbs out from under the bed, though he lowers the falcata against his better judgement. Watching the child warily, the nobleman shakes his head slightly. "I think I've met your auntie, she likes fancy dresses right? My name is Marius, what's yours? How long have you been alone here?"
"Yes, that's her. But she doesn't want to play with me." The boy sighs, and his sigh echoes off the stone walls oddly. Marius catches overlapping whispers and sighs at the edge of hearing as the boy steps closer.
"I'm Carr. Will you take me with you? It's awfully lonely here." His blue eyes are wide and beseeching.
"Carr," Marius nods in acknowledgement, while racking his brain for any references to a royal cousin or other figure of that name who might've been connected to the Birdsong Palace. His eyes flicker to take in the space around him as the susurration builds and then washes over him. His gaze settles back on the note-quite-child, his eyes holding resignation softening steely resolve.
"I'm sorry it's been so lonely, that can't have been easy for you. Could you tell me about what's upstairs, Carr?"
