War for the Crown #3 - The Twilight Child

Game Master Kittenmancer

Bartleby Time, Faenia is not talkin’ to the ghost.

Faenia rests her sword by the door and takes advantage of Bartleby’s invitation for a drink. She accepts the libation and downs it in one gulp, grimacing. She starts to talk to the Lotheed while the others are busy, and her accent shifts a little, to be less heavily Ulfen and more Taldan ”So - parents. I am lucky, both of mine seem to care about me - it doesn’t fix things when they set their expectations so high… but it helps at the margins.” She sighs and looks down into the glass before putting it down and looking out the window, ”do you think yours cared about you, or was it just - ‘expectations?” She gestures vaguely, ”did they treat you just like tools for themselves, extensions of themselves? I studied at the Kith - the Kithroden academy, sorry…” she takes a beat, not sure how much Bartleby knows about the bard academy, ”there were a lot of kids there who just joined because of their parents - their parents were actors, singers, painters - and the kids, they always felt small somehow.”

Notably, it is well known that the Landgrave was married at one point but his wife (or ex-wife, it isn’t clear) is not around the Fog Peaks. Nobody really in Taldan knows who or where she is. He doesn’t talk about it and he doesn’t like people asking questions.

Barcos seems equal parts intrigue and put off by the ghost. On one hand, it was a clear aberration in the natural order of things, but on the other hand, as far as undead went, ghosts were as close to natural as they got. Hell, some of the eldest druids ended up as ghosts to protect the forests they held dear.

Taking a page out of Faenia's book, he accompanies her to talk to Bartleby, "Parents are quite the subject, aren't they. Mine were..." He gestures to his shabby clothes. "Not well off. My mother was a ragpicker, working hard and sparing little time for much else. Not that I blamed her, it was hard to make ends meet. My old man seemed to think that coin acquired by honest means wasn't worth spending. He was a halway decent beggar, and a worse conman, though he spent much more time conning than begging. Most of the time, it seemed they could barely bring themselves to car what I was up to. Getting to know folks in the nobility though, more and more I think that they're lack of desire to chart my course was a blessing in disguise."

Bartelby takes a sip of his brandy and tilts his head, staring at a spot on the polished floor. "Did they care about me... I suppose they did, in their own way. My mother was rather concerned with appearances, so she pretended that my father's affair never happened, despite the... evidence." He clears his throat. "My father was a gifted administrator. He did a lot of what you have been doing - fixing the county's problems, improving the infrastructure - while also keeping up his own arcane studies and an active political life. So the expectations for my administrative career were indeed very high, and as for my arcane accomplishments... well, you have seen some of what my uncle has managed to achieve. While that particular field of study doesn't interest me particularly much, you have to admit that his is a rather fantastic level of mastery."

As Barcos joins the conversation, the count snorts. "I suppose I should count my blessings. At least I have led a very comfortable life and never suffered need like you must have. The flesh is sated, but the spirit can still yearn, and in finding no relief, wither." He shakes his head ruefully. "Listen to me, I am become poetic. Enough wallowing in self-pity. I gave up before really trying, I realize that now."

Bartelby takes a sip of his brandy and tilts his head, staring at a spot on the polished floor. "Did they care about me... I suppose they did, in their own way. My mother was rather concerned with appearances, so she pretended that my father's affair never happened, despite the... evidence." He clears his throat. "My father was a gifted administrator. He did a lot of what you have been doing - fixing the county's problems, improving the infrastructure - while also keeping up his own arcane studies and an active political life. So the expectations for my administrative career were indeed very high, and as for my arcane accomplishments... well, you have seen some of what my uncle has managed to achieve. While that particular field of study doesn't interest me particularly much, you have to admit that his is a rather fantastic level of mastery."

As Barcos joins the conversation, the count snorts. "I suppose I should count my blessings. At least I have led a very comfortable life and never suffered need like you must have. The flesh is sated, but the spirit can still yearn, and in finding no relief, wither." He shakes his head ruefully. "Listen to me, I am become poetic. Enough wallowing in self-pity. I gave up before really trying, I realize that now."

Faenia shakes her head, ”it’s hard. I don’t now how the landgrave does it - he glances at people and they fall in line. Maybe they’re afraid of him - he is quite kind, of course, so this is… poorly founded. I like to think they are afraid of disappointing him.” She looks out the window, ”did you know the other nobles elevated him, I’m sure you heard…, to Senator because they wanted his land to fall to ruin?” She looks back at Bartleby, and leans against the wall slightly, then gestures, ”these people - I told him, ‘why are you even considering working for these people - they all support pytherius’ and he said ‘this is how it works for Ulfen. We are blessed to have what we have.’” She glances at Barcos, ”his parents were … serfs - did you know this?”

She mulls her thoughts for a moment, ”even if we do not have a revolution - this country is dying. When people who set up stable mining, timber, resin and grain trade routes get punished… there is sickness in Taldor, Bartleby.” She opens her hands, ”there are myriad examples. The old ways do not work - magic has advanced. Andoran grows, year over year, while we bicker. Our promise is like fruit, unpicked, rotting on the vine.” She pours herself another drink, ”I do not know if Eutropia will fix everything. I do not expect her to. It is impossible. But she may be the only way this does not get worse.” She downs it suddenly, and shudders. ”This is good. Thank you, sincerely, for standing down… again. It is…” she thinks carefully, ”it shows character, you know? I just wanted to let you know.”

She will keep talking to Bartleby, and speak much less, largely asking him about his life, his relationship with Martella, his regrets, and what he thinks he can do to make up for it. Shell mention that she had a sibling, who died fighting, and they could not bring him back - his soul had passed on. She’s obviously sad about this.

Basically, therapist plus extremely subtle manipulation (only through stories, that are true but possibly embellished) towards thinking positively about Eutropia and Martella. The primary goal is to help him - the secondary goal should not interfere with the primary. Let me know if any skills are appropriate.

Bartelby swirls the drink in his glass, nodding. "Your father sounds like an admirable man." He downs the glass in one motion and sets it down. "I have much to think about, it seems. Thank you for giving me a different perspective."

As the topic turns to Martella, he rubs his forehead. "I used to feel that her very existence was an insult to my mother, but now I see that she had no choice in being born. No, the blame lies entirely with my father, and I have wronged my half-sister by how I have been treating her. But at least I have a chance to make amends. I'm sorry for your loss."

The rest of the night passes in thoughtful conversation as Bartelby opens up more, sharing childhood memories from the Palace of Birdsong. His view of the future is a mix of wariness and hope, and he seems almost energized at the idea of a challenge like helping to bring prosperity to Taldor again. While the social causes that Eutropia cares about do not interest him, the comparison with Andoran seems to hit a sore spot - he would see that righted, if only out of competitiveness.

time, 1=evening, 2=night: 1d2 ⇒ 2

As Barcos joins the conversation, the count snorts. "I suppose I should count my blessings. At least I have led a very comfortable life and never suffered need like you must have. The flesh is sated, but the spirit can still yearn, and in finding no relief, wither." He shakes his head ruefully. "Listen to me, I am become poetic. Enough wallowing in self-pity. I gave up before really trying, I realize that now."

The man shrugs, "No such thing as the end of things, really. Hell, even what you're given when you're born, in the end it comes down to what you can make of it. Not everyone can make what they deserve to, and that should be righted, but when you've got the means, I'd hazard a guess that there's never a time you can't turn things around. It's all a part of the endless cycles of the world. You made a good choice today, and you'll find peace and new meaning because of it."

Palace of Birdsong; Satrday, 3 Sarenith 4718

In the week and a half that follow the successful takeover of the Palace of Birdsong, most of the time goes into taking inventory of everything in the palace and meeting with the local nobles to update them of the situation. Bartelby and Gul have given their word not to try to run away or do mischief, but even so they are watched around the clock by Konstiantina, Lisa (who seems to take great pleasure in having Bartelby in her power), or whoever else is free.

There are some concerns from the Archbanker of Abadar, Lady Paril, regarding the legality of the events and also the future of funding for the town of Lotheedar, but she is mollified with promises that the princess or her representative will be here soon to clear up matters.

On the afternoon of the ninth day since the party infiltrated and gained control of the Palace of Birdsong, a carriage draws up in the driveway, the Stavian coat of arms painted on its doors. Martella emerges first, holding out her hand to help Eutropia step down, after which she puts her fists in the small of her back and stretches out the kinks from the long travel. Princess Eutropia stands still for a moment, taking in the gardens and the building, no doubt familiar sights from childhood summers spent here.

The two then procced inside, greeted by the servants and house guards who bow deeply. Martella beelines towards the office - formerly Bartelby's - while sending staff to gather all her agents to meet her there. As they enter, they find her standing next to the wall, fists on hips and nose almost touching the family portrait.

"Hmph. Whoever covered me up did a poor job of it. No hunting dog is that large, perspective tricks or no." She turns around, watches everyone for a long moment, then bows deeply from the waist. As she straightens, she claps her hands, a grin spreading across her features. "Well! I almost couldn't believe it when I read your report. You got my half-brother to stand down peacefully, what an achievement! I almost said I could not have handled this better myself, but the truth is that I probably would have handled it worse, given the... personal connections." She moves to the desk, glancing behind her through the tall windows. "The princess is taking a walk through the gardens, but she will join us shortly. Until then, tell me all the juicy details. And," she adds belatedly, "how are you all doing? Is pastoral life to your liking?"

Martella shifts her gaze to Faenia, standing at the back near the door. "Ah, and I see that you have found new allies. Mmm... Landgrave Jarlbjorn's daughter if I'm not mistaken? I have had some correspondence with your father. I am glad to see you here. What are your thoughts of our little endeavour so far?"

Barcos gives a sly smile to Martella, "Lady Lotheed, good to see you once again. Pastoral life's not bad, I miss the hustle and bustle of Oppara at times, the song of the city's life like a siren in my ear, but I'll tell ya, I do not miss the smell."

Faenia keeps checking on Bartleby and Gul as they are being confined, paying close attention to any perceived mistreatment their captors find themselves receiving. Having no relationship with Lisa, she has no compunctions against trying to put a stop to abuse should anything escalate.

When word comes that the heiress would be joining them soon, Faenia grows reserved, and spends much time alone in the small, barren servants quarters near the kitchen that she claimed. On the day of the arrival, it becomes apparent why - the young woman is clothed well, and is well-scrubbed and clean, her hair wound carefully - a contrast between something of her more rough-and-tumble, practical appearance. But though she wears her heavier armor, and keeps her ancestral sword clipped to her back, she wears regalia - almost a doublet, over her chest, with the colors of her house. Never before did anyone see her display such a thing openly and brazenly - Crossed Axes in front of a grey mountain on a blue field. Though gauntleted, the large woman’s fingers moves with some grace as she straightens out folds and wrinkles, and until the honored guests step out of their transport. She bows in Eutropia’s presence, the form impeccable, not a hair out of place, and then holds her head high, standing at attention, with her hands behind her back.

When Martella speaks to her, she relaxes somewhat, and inclines her head, her tone takes on more of the Taldan accent, though with carefully placed sounds - rich with the diphthongs and emphases that would mark her as being foreign, ”you are not mistaken, my lady.” She inhales, as if giving herself time to recalling and collect something she had thought about at length. ”He would have been circumspect, or I hope he would have. He is a very honest man… but they passed his test.” She smiles at Marius slightly, obviously referring to the party, ”for the most part.”

Her attention turns and her eyes widen slightly as she makes a knowing glance towards Eutropia. ”I am to discuss the other matters with the Princess - alone if possible, at her earliest convenience.” She hesitates, ”I hope he prepared you both for that request, if not, forgive me for being forward.”

She explains, ” In our home country - we have the … Tingmeet - elections - for some matters. While we are not in the north, we have kept their traditions - and my father believes assurances are needed in order to secure the necessary votes.” She sighs ”and I would tend to agree, as distasteful as I find such… horse-trading to be. The lessons of the Kith linger long in one’s mind.” she smiles slightly. ”My old teachers would have me insinuate this over days of conversation - but there’s a reason I never became a bard.”

Does Eutropia have any bodyguards amongst her entourage?

Dressed in his best, Marius greets the Crown Princess with full formality and welcomes here home to Birdsong Palace. He would never presume to give her a tour, but he does accompany her at a respectful distance to answer any questions she might have--at least, until Martella calls him away for debriefing.

"...how are you all doing? Is pastoral life to your liking?"

"More than I expected. It is...very gratifying, to build something healthy and prosperous and see that reflected in the people around you. I regret that Stachys was allowed to go to seed in the first place, but I find the work of restoring it to be greatly satisfying. I hope to repeat the trick across all of Taldor before we're through."

"...but they passed his test.” She smiles at Marius slightly, obviously referring to the party, ”for the most part.”

Marius offers an eyebrow raised in amused curiosity, but doesn't otherwise respond.

"Martella, I know you've already read the report, but I wish to reiterate that I find the information we've uncovered about Duke Panivar Lotheed to be very concerning. A powerful wizard with cause for a grudge against us would be bad enough, but he may not be merely a man, and these experiments on recreating the departed prince's soul is alarming in the extreme. There is also the matter of his...wife. I strongly suggest she be sent away from the palace, as she set off Lady Mokei's paladin senses."

Lotti refrains from mentioning the “juicy details” of how many of the area’s inhabitants died of starvation, homelessness, and violence and instead pushes her latest tea trolley (newly requisitioned from the palace’s kitchens) next to the desk. “Oh, the country air does wonders for one’s health,” she answers pleasantly. “Sugar?”

Wobblekins yowls woefully from the desk, large yellow eyes imploring the noblewoman - anyone, really - to take pity on a cat who has never been loved in his entire life.

@Marius: Martella and Eutropia did not arrive with bodyguards, save forthe carriage driver whom you remember to be also Martella' bodyguard and assistant.

Martella smiles at Barcos's comment. "The docks on a summer day? No, thank you."

She nods to Faenia. "Of course, the princess will meet with you as soon as she has rested a bit. Perhaps tonight after supper? And I actually appreciate your forwardness, saves us both a lot of time."

To Marius, she replies. "We haven't seen much of the county on our way in, but I understand that you have brought about marked improvements. I am looking forward to see them with my own eyes, but work first." She exhales, not quite a sigh, drumming her fingers on the desktop. "I... haven't told the princess everything about what you have discovered here. She still mourns her brother. I will monitor Duke Lotheed very closely though, and update you on developments. As for his other... creation, I have some ideas there. Don't worry, I'll take care of it."

She reaches out a hand to scratch Wobblekins between the ears. "I am very grateful that you have solved the issues here without bloodshed for the most part. And that Night Swan girl is an interesting character, I am glad you were able to capture her. The county should be able to breathe a little easier now, and I share your hope, Lord Erallan, of seeing this replicated across Taldor." She glances out the window again, where Eutropia is returning from her garden walk accompanied by Martella's bodyguard and two of the palace guards.

"Well, we have a lot of work to do, so I'll let you all go. Thank you again, and I believe Eutropia wants to thank you in person as well." She pauses for any last questions before sitting down at the desk and starting to sort through the papers, letters and ledgers stacked there for her attention.

Barcos nods appreciatively to Lotti, "Yes please. I've never had tea this fancy, I believe. I'll do the sugar myself though, no need to go to extra trouble."

Upon hearing Martella's suggestion they go see Eutropia, he gives an incredulous look to her, "Hold a moment, you're tellin' me we're meeting the real, actual princess herself? Bloody hell, if I was a man of less moral fiber I could...well I could make a killing just selling the ghost of a royal handshake back home. Damn, if I knew this was happening I'd 've prepared a speech or something. And, gah, where's the Baron run off to, I hope he remembers that trick..."

He trails off into mumbling about this and that, ending as he takes a sip of the tea Lotti brought in.

The below assumes Rose went to back to meet Martella after the Rose/Marius scene and that it had a neutral or positive ending.

Raesilia Talbot - Rose to her friends - lingers behind Martella in the older woman's entourage, silently offering a nod and warm smile to Faenia and Barcos during their introductions. Dressed in an experimental fusion of elven-patterned and jeweled leatherworking with Opparan Court fashion , the pretty owner of the newly-expanded Thread Rare was no doubt an expert in advertising her store's craftsmanship. "If I may, I would like to thank the two of you as well, Lady Jarlborn and Barcos," The blonde tailor and merchant says. "I am Raesilia Talbot, daughter of Duke Talbot. While I'm afriad hopefully more extensive introductions have to wait, you have my heartfelt gratitude for your help in capturing both the Night Swan and the palace. I'm happy that Marius - i mean, Lord Erallan - had such good allies to take care of him in my absence."

If the young woman should have been bothered by that slip of familiarity, she did a very good job of not giving a damn. Instead, she gave an even warmer smile to both him and Lotti (and, should they be present, Lisa and Konstiantina) before focusing on what was truly important - petting Wobblekins and getting him a bowl of milk en-route to the gardens.

Faenia bows to Rose, ”it is a pleasure to meet you, miss. But before you get the wrong idea, I am not of the gentry. My father is barely nobility. While kind, I would prefer it if you avoided that honorific. I am just Faenia, unless something remarkable happens to change Taldan law.”

She seems apologetic, ”I appreciate the respect, truly, but my father barely accepted the title of ‘Jarl’. It makes us … uncomfortable. We believe respect comes from deeds, not title, and I would not want others to get the wrong impression about me.” She seems somehow firm, but also an element of mild frustration has crept into her voice, as if she’s tired of repeating a script. It doesn’t seem directed towards Rose, but instead to the situation.

She adds, ”this is one of many reasons I prefer to avoid people knowing my background when I travel. I expect Lady Martella and I have something in common in this regard, though Ms. Lotheed has a much stronger claim to a title than I do.” She smiles slightly.

The noble chuckles at the skald's frankness. "Your modesty does you credit, Faenia. Personally, I agree with you. And with how you directly apprehended a dangerous criminal and then took control of an entire prefecture with just four others in an almost bloodless manner, I believe you deserve such a title far more than most." A familiar hint of frustration creeps into her kindness, though this one was also not directed at her. "Of course, I am well aware my views are often rediculed or looked down on. Usually both," She smiles wryly. "But that is something I hope to change. Please call me Rose - my own family are merchants and simply bought and married their way into nobility. It feels disingenuous to me to demand anyone's respect over that."

She almost said more, of how she wished more of Taldor held to Faenia's people's ways with positions of leadership having to be earned rather than given. It seemed like a much more informal, a much more real and fair system. A meritocracy, she believed it was called. Would that have solved Taldor decadency issues and its decline?

But no - not with Martella right next to her. To proclaim such was blasphemy to the normal social order, and one admonishment of 'holding one's cards close to their chest' was enough.

One day, perhaps, they could discuss such a thing and weigh it against Marius' proposed gouvernment - in private.

Dinner is a cozy affair in the library rather than in one of the larger entertaining spaces, and the princess has to be all but dragged to her seat by Martella as she gets lost in gazing at the antiques on display and reminiscing.

Eutropia looks more tired than when they had last seen her, if such a thing were possible. She looks like she lost some weight as well, but someone has adjusted her gowns with an expert hand so they still fit her perfectly. The meal itself passes in pleasant chit-chat and conversation, Martella bringing the last of the social gossip from Oppara and carefully steering away from more serious topics. The food is all the princess's favourite dishes from her childhood - wild mushrooms in a creamy white sauce, a chicken meatball soup thick with vegetables cut very small, a sweet and sour stew of lamb and quince, flaky pie with sweet cottage cheese filling, and for dessert bowls of rice boiled in sweetened milk and flavoured with cinnamon, cloves and vanilla.

After dinner, they retreat to the parlour with cups of tea or glasses of wine or spirits. Princess Eutropia carries an embossed leather folder stuffed with papers that she sets down on a side table. Martella also brings a few packages wrapped in thick paper that seem to contain fabric, placing one each in everyone's lap save herself and Eutropia.

"I am very grateful to you all, for everything that you have done. Having spoken to Count Lotheed, I have hopes that I can bring him over to our side, in time. He remains a self-interested man and there are things he must answer for still, so it will be a challenging journey. For now, though," the princess withdraws a few papers from her folder, "here are legal papers granting you ownership of the former Betony estate, to use as you please. We wrote them as a joint ownership with all of your names listed, although of course you can sell your share or bequeath it - whatever you like."

She hands out the papers, folding her hands in her lap. "For the matter of more material rewards, you are free to claim any items from this palace, save for the antiques in the library and the spellbooks in the arcane laboratory on this floor. Anything that you do not claim, Martella and I will likely sell and keep part of the proceeds to fund your future missions." She hesitates, looking at everyone in turn. "That is, if you are still willing to help me."

Loot: Martella gifts everyone with a cloak of protection +2.

Rose tilts her head slightly at Eutropia's hesitation - why was she unsure of their loyalty? Or was she instead unsure of herself? Did the princess somehow know or suspect she had maninested doubts as to whether the older woman was truly strong enough to handle the wasteful decadency that was so prevalent among the nobility, which seemed to underlie so many of the country's problems?

...Was that unfair? To mentally compare her to an idealized image of someone chosen to rule by everyone rather than be born into the position? Would that person not by definition be better? Although, It couldn't be easy having to deal with the aftermath of the Senate massacre, and who knew what she'd been doing these last months in keeping the stability...

"Of course," Rose confidently says anyway. No matter what her personal thoughts on the matter were and whether or not those were justified, the short-term stability of the country had to come first. "If the political map you sent us a month ago is still up to date, then we should form as much of a unified front as we can and try to take whatever action is needed to stop the nation from falling apart. You haven't steered us wrong yet, and as the rightful heir - at least, in my eyes - I have no doubt you are in a better position than us to judge what has to be done." She isn't sure whether she was supposed to offer Eutropia an encouraging smile but did her best at it anyway.

It doesn't take her long to decide what to do with her part of the mansion. "As a Talbot, until primogeniture is officially repealed nation-wide, it's best if I'm not in any part an owner of this mansion. Perhaps, legally, the other owners could stop father or one of his representatives from claiming 'my' part to do who-knows-what if such an event were to occur. But I'm not willing to risk that. I will instead bequeath my share to Sepsinia Crabbe. She has been through a lot and deserves something nice, I feel. Also, I hope such a gesture will contribute to continued good relations between Stachys and its neighbors in our absense."

That, and she just liked her honorary younger sister. The only other consideration was to instead give it to Marius but that seemed a bit superfluous with how close they already were and he already having his own share.

When he meets the princess, Barcos makes sure to instruct Baron Barksley to do the trick that he taught him. It takes some cajoling, but eventually the dog gives a deep bow, to which Barcos gives a smile that's equal parts wry and proud. It must be noted, he himself does not bow.

Barcos nods gratefully to Princess Eutropia, "I am honored, your Highness, but I can't accept. My lot is not to be amongst the nobility, and never will be. I'll find some peasant families who are in need around here, have my share parceled and given to them. Free of charge, taxation, the whole shebang."

He takes a deep breath as he takes a bite of his food while passing one down to Baron Barksley, "I've got a question, Princess. I can't say I know too much about your aims, so if I'm to provide what aid I can, I'd at least like some assurances that...ah, hard to phrase it. You seem invested in repealing primogeniture, which of course is a noble aim. The only people that stand to gain from that are the nobility. If I am to help your cause, I would ask that you extend your attention past just the nobility. I am aware that a pauper making requests of a princess is so untoward as to be straight out of a fairy tale, but in Taldor's long, long history, I would be hard pressed to find any example of a person of my station having a leisurely dinner with someone of yours. More than just the nobility must benefit from your reforms. The just inheritance of title matters to me some, but I care far, far more deeply for those who have nothing to inherit in the first place, and my aid is contingent on those people getting something, anything, to improve their lot."

Faenia accepts the package briefly, but sets it aside. Earlier, she was careful when they entered the room, and eats silently, nodding along to other discussions but adding little. Any discussion about her is deflected and redirected to other topics, gently.

People notices that she’s periodically watching the exits, and even earlier she was subtly questioning Eutropia’s guards about their security procedures. When Martella noticed, Faenia had spoken to her alone, and this seemingly settled the matter, but it didn’t settle Faenia - who seemed restless through the evening.

Upon setting aside the gift, she comments ”I… hmmm” quietly ”thank you, your Grace.” When Barcos comments, she nods along, but there remains tension in her affect, only adding carefully, ”for what it is worth - the Landgrave tends to agree with Barcos - though I admit, it is not high on our priority list - the people of Taldor should not be forgotten. They are the sinew and bone of Taldor. Without them - we would have a little of a country to fight for.”

Princess Eutropia watches Barcos and Faenia for a moment, then sets down her teacup, sitting up straighter. "I believe that we are on the same page. Most people look at the glory days of Taldor as the time when we ruled over half of continent - but that is Pythareus's ambition, not mine. For me, a glorious nation is one where everyone prospers and is safe, one that undertakes great works of infrastructure, not military conquest. Taldor is decaying because of greed; we depleted our own resources through reckless exploitation, and the greed of the nobles and Grand Princes has led to greater inequality and neglect." She spreads her hands. "I cannot fix greed. But I can try to make the system fairer. A start would be to have tradespeople, labourers and farmers on the Senate."

Martella's eyes widen at that, and she snorts. "Oh, that will send the traditionalists into an apoplectic fit." Eutropia smiles slightly. "It will be difficult to achieve, yes. but I believe not impossible. Besides, the best time to implement sweeping reforms is when a new ruler takes power." She returns her attention to Barcos. "It heartens me that you ask this, Barcos. I have read many times that those who have little are often the most generous, and now I see an example of that. It gives me hope that there are still people like you, who work to improve others' lot and ask little or nothing for themselves." She nods at Rose, Lotti, Faenia and Marius, including them in that assessment.

"What you have all achieved in Stachys and the Meratt county may seem miraculous at first glance, but I believe it is what happens when clever and kind people apply themselves in finding solutions to problems, even if those problems do not concern them personally. It gives me strength to continue our fight, because I know it is the right thing to do for the people of Taldor, and I believe we can win." She takes a deep breath, looking everyone in the eye in turn. "Thank you."

Releasing her breath, she smooths her skirts and stands, looking at Faenia. "Now, I believe you and I have matters to discuss. Let us retire to the office." She nods to the rest of the group. "I wish you all a pleasant rest of the evening, and we will speak again tomorrow."

The office

Princess Eutropia enters the office, holding the door for Faenia and then closing it behind her. She moves to sit behind the desk, briefly stopping to glance at the Lotheed family portrait and shake her head, then gestures for Faenia to sit down.

Faenia nods, and follows the princess, after leaving the small bundle in her chair. She slips into the office after Eutropia, but before sitting down, anxiously looks around the room - she had already checked most of Satchys over the previous days, but seemed a little extra cautious. ”Forgive me, Your Highness - this is sensitive. Well, there is nothing else to be done…”” She bows courteously and slips into the chair after making sure the door is closed, and that nobody is obviously in the hall.

Nobody invisible, etc in the room? I hope.

”So - the matters at hand.” She looks down and smooths out a fold in the cloth on her leg, then straightens up. ”the Landgrave Ogvai … Jarlborn would formally endorse you, and lend his financial and military resources to your cause. He believes you are the best hope for Taldor, for many reasons.” She breathes in steadily, then exhales ”further, he has the most influence over the other Ulfen, specifically the royal guard. They have a long history in Taldor - I am sure you know it - but until Stavian, they had successfully protected the royal family. But their failure here stemmed from much of the same atrophy and stagnation that afflicts the rest of the country. The Landgrave is working on reform - he is cleverer than people give him credit for - but he hates politics and is bad at them.” She smiles slightly, ”that is why I was sent to the Kith. I like politics, and I am … good at them. Or at least, good enough. What is this building to…” She slows her speech down, and continues, ”we both would like me to protect you, personally. I have trained a little with the guard, I know how to fight, but I also know other things, like magic and the names of most of the nobility, their children, what they like to eat, their birthdays, magic, monsters, and more. I trained to be a bard at the Kith, if you get my meaning. A handmaiden and bodyguard, who will protect you and advise you.”

She hesitates, ”we must end male-only primogeniture to do this, but once my father provides the votes for this, he wants to quit being a senator. He hates it. He wants to tend to the people, and the land, and fight giants. I’m trying to get him to negotiate with some giants… but he likes fighting them. This is his second condition - to leave him alone. The last condition is… well. It would be best if I passed you a slip of paper, and a cipher. The code is easy enough to follow - I modeled it after your personality. This request is the most important, but we are only telling you - you will be the fourth person in the world to learn. By merely telling you he is placing an immense amount of trust in you, Your Grace.” Her voice shakes slightly, ”after you read it, give it back please, and I will burn the ashes and eat them.” She says this matter-of-factly ”please.”

Eutropia watches Faenia carefully while she speaks. "I notice that you said 'would', not 'will'. Very well. I am honoured by his trust. Your training sounds impressive, I would be honoured to have you defend and advise me. The Taldor I envision should be a home for all, not just Taldans. Gods know we have made ourselves at home in plenty of places where we didn't belong." She gives a little quirk of her lips. "The second condition is also acceptable, although I would not wish to lose his perspective. Perhaps he can suggest a suitable replacement."

When Faenia hands her the paper, the princess raises an eyebrow in surprise, but takes it, unfolds it and reads it. She pauses to glance at Faenia as she reads, then returns her gaze to the paper. She reads it once more, then hands it back, steepling her hands on the desk. "This... will be more difficult. It will take time, if it happens at all, but I promise that I will at least try. Would that satisfy you and your father?"

Faenia accepts the paper, and quickly folds it, and retrieves a small bowl from a pocket. She places the paper inside, and with a small bit of flint and tinder, lights the paper on fire, which burns quickly. She looks up at the princess. "We know. But we cannot fix things if we do not try." She blows on the fire to accelerate it, then retrieves a small amount of water, and extinguishes the fire. Pouring it into the bowl, she swirls it briefly, before gulping it down. She grimaces, "bitter. But the paper at least is a pressed, treated tea-leaf, so not entirely unpleasant." She retrieves the last flakes with a finger, and apologetically, licks them off, "I promise you that I have been trained in courtly etiquette, despite what I just did." Satisfied, she returns the bowl to her pocket.

She leans forward a little, "what I offer now, to you, is from me. Devotion. Until my dying breath. And without any conditions. I would like for us to be friends, but my job, as it would be - would be to protect you and any children you might have. This is unwavering. An ulfen who swears this oath does not ask for conditions - this is a bond of blood. I would be your skald, and I would follow you to hell should you need me to." Her eyes shine, as she rolls up her sleeve, revealing a tattoo, "I hope you understand that there was a time in my life when I was very angry. I have grown past that time, but not the ideals. My oath to you is unconditional - but ... " she rolls the sleeve down, "I swore another oath to a higher power, long ago. This binds my soul."

She looks out the window for a moment, "there is a line that Queens and Kings - they should not cross." She thinks and then continues, quietly "while my loyalty is unconditional, I would ask that you never cross that line and put yourself in a position to put my loyalty at odds with my faith."

Knowledge religion: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25

It only takes a glance for the princess to glean the meaning of the tattoo, and she nods. "Faenia, thank you for the trust that you place in me, and for your devotion. I swear to strive to be worthy of that devotion always. I trust that you will tell me, should I stray." Her language and tone take a more formal and solemn quality. "And I shall be very mindful of that line."

She inclines her head, "and so I swear the devotion to you." She stands, and pushes the chair back, and in a low voice, speaks in Skald, "Jeg sverger ved den blodige rosen, mine forfedre, åndene i mange land, og ved min far og mor."

She looks around, "when we finish these matters of succession, you and I should prick our hands and bind me to you in loyalty with blood, publically. It is an old tradition, but not all tradition should not be forgotten. There is power in such an action within the Ulfen - it would ensure their loyalty."

She frowns slightly, "Stavian should never have relaxed those rules. I am told that he did not want to 'sully' himself, and did not want to hurt himself, but ... " she trails off, "it is no matter. I do not wish to take more of your time. Thank you, your Highness." She bows, "I will send word to my father of your agreement. What would you have him do?"

Princess Eutropia places a hand lightly on the hilt of her rapier, a reminder of her reputation as a skilled duelist. "I am not afraid of a little prick, and I recognize the power that blood carries - and not just for the Ulfen."

She thinks for a moment on Faenia's question. "If we would position his forces in the Fog Peaks to the east, close to Yanmas - there might be an opportunity there soon."

Faenia bows again, "it shall be done. May the best days of Taldor be before us." She moves to leave, and she adds only, "thank you, Your Highness."

Marius speaks little at the dinner with the princess, save to offer a pleased smile and nod at Barcos' and Faenia's contributions. House Erallan had been in Eutropia's camp for years, its sons and daughters were all at her disposal and she knew it. He does accept the ownership share of the Betony Estate with a gracious bow--truly, he had long looked forward to contributing his piece to the revitalization of Taldor, but the depth of feeling seeing Stachys restored had inspired in him still caught him off guard. He found himself unable to seriously countenance giving it up. As dinner adjourns he formally shakes Barcos hand to welcome him to their ranks now that it was official, and at the first opportunity snags Raesilia for a long walk.

+ + + + +

"Lady Jarlborn," he calls in greeting, catching Faenia in the hall in a rare ebb moment the following day. "Just the person I was hoping to see! I trust your meeting with the Crown Princess went well. I had the opportunity to tell Goodman Barcos last night, but I wanted to welcome you to, well, our little group. It seems we'll be working closely together to further our collective interest--and, well, I have a gift for you." He reaches into his coat, withdrawing a small golden ring, the interior polished to a smooth shine of a lighter shade than its pristine exterior.

"This is a little something we picked up during our explorations. It's a diplomat's delight, enchanted to make sweet words sweeter and a silver tongue brighter. I think of all of us, you're one of the best equipped to make effective use of its gifts. And if you're still cautious of openly declaring yourself your father's daughter, well, let us just say it can help with that as well." He grins, flipping the ring like a coin and catching it before proffering it to the skald. "Welcome to the team."

Reflex: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14

Faenia clumsily catches it, but not without some difficulty. She curses, quietly, ”sorry. Oh, goodness.” She looks down at the ring, and up at Marius, ”thank you. I’m touched. I hope it wasn’t a sacrifice - I feel a little like an… interloper.” She glances vaguely in the direction of where she thinks Eutropia is, and says ”I will be cautious about revealing that knowledge of my family for some time - until certain plans are in motion, but I made the decision to join my family to Eutropia’s cause.”

She seems like she’s trying to decide what to say, taking a pause, ”the.. Queen, in my mind I suppose… I will eventually become her bodyguard and formally join the Ulfen Guard to do so. She granted the boon that I requested, and I swore an oath to her.” She holds up the ring, ”if this will help see her seated on the throne, all the better. So I will follow your lead in the … team, but my loyalty is to Eutropia above all.”

She chews over the word ‘team’, ”I apologize for my obliqueness earlier, and my outburst. It was a test. The Landgrave wanted to see how you would handle someone challenging you.” She smiles mischievously, ”I admit I channeled real emotions - that is what the best, or those to aspire to be the best, actors do. As I told the Queen, there was a time in my life when I was much angrier than I am now. It is easy to access that rage.” She seems slightly embarrassed, ”anyway, I can explain more of my background, should you need to know for planning purposes. I do not much like planning - I usually figure things out as they come, but I wish to defer to you, as the leader.”

She adds, ”be aware - my father’s resources are not available for many reasons, not least of which is that he has to spend much time developing a military bulwark against Pythareus, and maneuvering the Ulfen Guard to back Eutropia formally.”

Marius' grin grows a touch wider, his high spirits quite unassailable with Rose back safely. "A test? Glad to see I passed, and no apology necessary. And not to worry, Raesilia Talbot's love of planning is a thing to behold, her contingencies have contingencies, ha." He does not seem surprised or bothered by the knowledge that Jarlborn's resources aren't being made available to them. "There's a proper tool for every job, and I cannot think of anyone better suited to lobby for Eutropia to the Ulfen Guard than your father. We will make do with our own capabilities no matter the task assigned to us next, I have no doubt. Meratt County is only the beginning!"

As he often does, Barcos is out in the evening, wandering the countryside with Baron Barksley by his side. In part, it is to hone his connection to the nature that exists outside the cities, the feeling of soft grass beneath his feet, the rushing of streams, the glow of the moon and stars and heavens above. Yet his evening wanderings bear with them a more practical purpose.

At each peasant house he stops by, he makes sure to knock on the door, to pay them a visit and to listen to their concerns, their troubles, anything they may wish to share. He helps how he can, and often it is quite a bit. Few common concerns cannot be solved or at least lessened by his magic, he’s found.

An occurrence at one house, though, is odd. As with many, the house has a gaggle of children alongside their parents, so Barcos brings the Baron in to keep them company while he helps relieve their pregnant mother’s morning sickness. Baron Barksley seemed rather intent on pushing one of the youngsters towards Barcos. He waved the child away a few times, already preoccupied, but on the third time he paused his healing. Taking a moment to talk to the child, he came to learn that she was feeling sick, the early stages of whooping cough that could be terribly dangerous for her whole family. Something was happening with the Baron. He’d been a smart dog before, but this was new. Entirely new.

On his ramble back to the manor, Barcos knelt down, looking into Baron Barksley’s amber eyes and felt….something. A glint of recognition, of intelligence that far surpassed simple animal cunning. He felt, too, a jolt of energy. While before, they had shared the bond of friendship between man and dog, now it was something altogether different. A mystic linking, woven in the threads of the song of all wild things.

He had much to think abou, much to do.

Lotti nods graciously as the princess finishes her speech. When the younger woman’s eyes meet hers, she holds them with an unflinching stare.

“Your Majesty is too kind. I have done little to deserve such praise and reward. I have endured no hardships here, built no houses here, knelt in no fields torn apart by polished hooves chasing my husband and prayed to no gods that I would not have to choose which of my children would die of starvation so those in a faraway palace might feast and dance and make merry into the wee hours of the morning.” Her voice is as flat and emotionless as her eyes.

“If anything, I have merely not gotten in the way of those who have done the work. Surely the barest minimum should elicit a similar reward - as should having given one’s everything. Any portion of this estate that would be given to me will instead be placed in the trust of Abadar’s faithful, to be invested in the community as they see fit. The profits of this investment shall be used by the people of Stachys to continue growing what they have managed, despite overwhelming odds, to plant here.”

Eutropia nods at Lotti. "As you wish." She doesn't flinch from the arcanist's vivid imagery - if anything, her features seems to firm in resolve.

================================

Over the next few days, Martella and Eutropia spend a lot of time going over the archives, papers and accounts of both the palace and the Lotheed family. Martella is visibly concerned by the documents discovered in the secret compartment inside the office, and seems regretful that she didn't manage to meet the ghost of her uncle.

Envoys, nobles and artisans begin visiting the Palace of Birdsong, the former to have meetings with Eutropia, the latter to begin work on making the palace a more suitable place as the princess's residence and base of operations. Every now and then, messengers arrive as well, from Oppara and elsewhere, and afterwards the two women cloister themselves in the office for hours.

It is after the arrival of one such messenger that Martella gathers everyone in the parlour again, a crease of concern drawing a line between her brows. A platter of honey cakes and a steaming teapot are waiting one one of the side tables, together with cups for everyone, a dish of water for Baron Barksley and a saucer of cream for Wobblekins.

Martella gestures for everyone to take a seat and partake of the refreshments, although she herself remains standing and pacing in front of the floor to ceiling windows facing the driveway and the gardens. "I hope you have all enjoyed a well-deserved rest. I would offer you more than tea and cakes, but I have been giving the serving staff a lot of days off in light of recent events, and we've been a bit short-handed." She turns on one heel to face everyone, her heavy skirt flaring with the movement. "Let me ask you: how much do you know about Yanmass? If it isn't much, I have a few books you can read on your way, because that is your next destination. The city has been neutral up until now, but commands considerable wealth and access to exclusive trade goods, as it is the first stop in Taldor for Keleshite merchant caravans. Its support would be invaluable, and the princess and Pythareus have both sent delegations to win an alliance with the Mercantile Council that runs the city." The crease of concern deepens. "We have just got word that our agent, Sir Meir Dratavis, has gone missing. His last correspondence mentioned troubling recent events." She begins to tick items off one by one on her fingers. "Bandit raids. Cult activity. Missing soldiers. He was working alongside Pythareus's representative, Earl Yander Merkondus, to resolve the problems, but I haven't heard anything since and I suspect foul play. Your mission is to find our agent, or else to continue his work of convincing Yanmass to formally back Eutropia." She stops speaking, reaching for a cup of tea as she awaits questions.

Faenia nods in thanks at Marius, ”yes,I appreciate it. Thank you again, Maris, for your patience.” With that, she seems to disappear from Birdsong much of the time. It appears that she sees herself something of an independent contractor, and has some errands to attend to.

In time it becomes clear that she’s communicating with the Fog Peaks somehow, and has received some supplies - which she uses to set in reserve for Gul and Bartleby. She seems to be trying to make up for the things that they lost when they forfeited it to Eutropia, and eventually, once some recompense is made, she lets them know. A few magic items, some decent quality weapons and armor.

She keeps Martella appraised of their disposition all the while.

**************

When Faenia starts to listen to Martella’s concerns, she asks the Lady Lotheed to wait a moment, then retrieves a notebook and works to write notes linguistics: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (18) + 11 = 29 looking up only occasionally. A glance over her shoulder makes it clear she’s writing in some shorthand which is doubly confusing since it is written in an odd language - seemingly a mix of skald, and another language, with bits of a cypher thrown in.

At the end of the request, she looks down at her notes, and when the others have had a chance to ask a question or two, just asks ”this - Earl Yander. Enemy? Turnable? Do we keep him alive to keep peace with Pytherus? You make it sound like you do not suspect him to be behind Dratavis’ disappearance.”

"We met Earl Merkondus comparatively recently, he was present here at the gala. His capabilities aren't known to me, but he plays his cards close to his chest. If he's connected to the disappearance, it'll be through a layer or two of catspaws." He makes some notes of his own in the pocketbook he retrieved from his coat, frowning thoughtfully down at the page.

"Bandits, deserters, and cults--oh my. Has there been any sign of activity from the Qadirans, overt or otherwise? They're surely watching the proceedings with great interest and I'm keen to know if they've expressed any, hmm, preferred outcome in the succession struggle."

Martella gestures with an open hand at Marius while looking at Faenia. "Quite so. The Merkondus family operates in sea trade. They're landed in Moda prefecture, but Yander works heavily in Oppara. I've had the dubious pleasure of working with him in the past, and he is charming, insightful, and ruthlessly efficient. He's the sort of man you watch very carefully, only to be struck down by a carriage you never saw coming." She lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. "I do not doubt he has his price, but I doubt that we can afford to pay it at this time - now do I think it particularly wise to employ such a self-interested agent. He may well be responsible for the disappearance of our agent, but like Lord Erallan points out it will be difficult to discover if so, and even more difficult to prove."

She nods to Marius. "We have received no envoy from the Qadirans, but they are undoubtedly watching. A Pythareus victory would most likely mean war for them, so I can venture a guess as to where their preferences lie. Communication with them is difficult at the moment, as Pythareus controls the southern regions of Taldor, but perhaps there is an opportunity for contact in Yanmass."

Martella sets down her tea cup, turning to look out the window. "There is... one other matter. If you were wondering why Eutropia is not present at this briefing - well, this is why." She turns around to watch everyone before continuing. "The cult that Sir Dratavis mentioned, the Cult of the Twilight Child... they claim to worship a resurrected Prince Carrius. Attempts to resurrect Eutropia's younger brother shortly after his death failed, and while it is possible for a powerful spellcaster to raise the dead after so long, it still strikes me as suspicious that a potential claimant to the throne has just happened to appear - especially in light of what you have discovered of Panivar's experiments here. Eutropia hasn't yet heard these rumors, and I'd like them investigated quickly and quietly."

Faenia's brow furrows, "Lady Martella, why can we not tell the Princess? I am - " she catches herself, "are you sure she would want to have this information hidden from her?" She looks at the others, questioningly.

Martella sighs. "No, I am not sure. I want to shield her, I suppose. If the claims are not true, the last thing she needs is to relive the loss of her brother. If they are true, well... let's cross that bridge when we get to it."

"That cult seems...concerning, to say the very least. I can understand why you'd rather not spill to the princess about it until we can learn more about them. Best not to give her the wrong intel about them, especially when uncanny familial phenomena comes into play. We'll see what we can find out, I swear it."

Faenia frowns, "I do not like this."

She turns back to Marella, "I will do as you ask - but I intend to tell her of the matter as soon as possible when we return, or if we do not find out what happened quickly. I swore an oath to her - not to you or the others here, with all due respect."

She inclines her head, "I have a few other questions, but I will let the others speak." She sits back in her chair and seems to be thinking.

belt of giant strength roll, high good (>25): 1d100 ⇒ 45