Alysandra Janus's page

:: Amavin, Lyda, Sylvia ::
:: Hereafter, The Royals ::
Princess Sarra gives a soft 'oooo' of delight, reaching up to carefully pet Gwaihir, who unabashedly tilts his head and gives a little squawk. This interaction distracts her for long enough for the side conversation to take part ...

Alysandra gives a nod and a smile of greeting to Amavin, then a half-shrug to Lyda. "Not all of us are like that," she replies sotto voce to Lyda in self-defense, her lip twitching upwards in reaction to Lyda's new nickname for Sylvia. The ebb and flow of the party, and in particular of the little group, means that Zámoždom the Clergyman and his swordlord compatriots are somewhat shifted to the side. He, however, says with a droll sort of condescension, "A fine bird indeed. How influential you must be, to be able to get him into this party."

"He is a fine bird," agrees Sarra, then continues with, "Yes, we're going. Father called together the entire household, Toby and me and all the servants and that, told us all what was going on, and offered to release from service any of those who didn't want to come along. There were a few who left, but almost everyone came with. I don't have any of those sorts of skills," she adds in regards to Sylvia's question regarding spell and blade. Gesturing towards her minder, she adds, "Not like ... umm ..."

"Sergeant Shena Sedrin," says a new voice, a powerful upper bass. Zámoždom Duchovný is the first to recognize the identity of the speaker and respond, dropping into a quick, respectful bow; at a slight gesture, so do his duelists, the female among them dipping into a curtsey. All of them hold the courtesy. For her part, Alysandra notices and reacts almost as fast as the professional politico; unlike them, the curtsey she dips is actually rather shallow, an abbreviated acknowledgement instead of a sycophantic abasement. The bodyguard does nothing of the sort; that's not what she's here for.

King Chalm gives a brief smile to the Sarenite and his cohorts (as well as anyone else who gives a deep courtesy) and says, "I hope you don't do that every time I show up; we'd get nothing done. Well, you'll get used to me." One hand on his daughter's shoulder, he states, "Sarra has a noblewoman's training - horse, target archery, and most importantly, keeping the house and its accounts. I expect her to be invaluable, working hand-in-hand with Oskar Vorwilde as we simultaneously build both household and kingdom."

At the king's word, Zámoždom and company recover from their courtesies.

:: Lyda ::

Alysandra gives a twist of a smile, then finishes off her cup, filching a rag to dry it out and put it mouth-down. "Well, it wasn't for your political acumen or savvy with double-speak that you were chosen, Lyda, I can tell you that. Chalm's a military man; he expects, he prefers straight talk and honest opinions, even - especially - when those opinions don't align with his own, because he's a good commander and he knows he doesn't know everything. He also knows he's a commander, not a ruler, which means he knows he'll have to do something he hates doing - listen to a lot of people. But when this all starts to settle a bit, I'd guess by midsummer, harvest-time at the latest, we'll know what's what and who's who - the right people amongst the two hundred leaders and top aides amongst the three thousand or so people who are to be going, to be listening to in regards to what. Who's honest, who slants things, who panders, who shoots straight, who's sloppy, who doesn't cut corners. The thinkers, the go-getters, the explorers, the builders, the problem solvers, the troubleshooters -- and the trouble-makers." Alysandra shrugs. "Be who you are, and the king will see it, recognize it, and try to use it in a way that will be good for the kingdom and fall within your god's desires. And if you have a problem with what he wants to do, come out and say so. Don't let it get to the point you're concerned about."

The gleam in her eyes matches your own. "And since that's the plan ... sounds like a good one. Unfortunately, more for me to do tonight. I'll see you at the party tomorrow evening, I trust?" Her smile is a little wry, as if she can tell you're not the 'dress up for court' kind of gal.

:: Lyda ::
No spells being cast or inscribed upon scrolls, only copying - a half-dozen scribes crammed into the amount of space two would normally use, copying out the sort of thing that, well, as you admitted - lost you entirely in regards to the legalistic mumbo-jumbo wordplay that was part of the latter portion of the Red Table Square announcement. And the wine isn't bad, it's just not 'the good stuff' by any stretch of the imagination. Serviceable.

Alysandra gives a soft 'mmmm' of thought, though she smiles at your admission that you're not equipped for this sort of battle. "First, it won't be like here in Restov or, thank the gods, New Stetven, where there's a hundred different nobles demanding something or other, most of them impossible and all of them at odds with what the other nobles want. Chalm is going to listen to us. If you have a problem, go to him; he picked you and your people because he sees a need for you, and he sees how you can both serve his vision and your gods' trust. Tell him your issue, and tell him what you'd prefer. Look at the long view, work with him, and be willing to compromise, because believe me, while he's a hard negotiator, he has a very strong sense of right and wrong. I'm pretty sure he won't completely screw any of us over without a truly outstanding reason, and it just might be that if we can take a step back from ourselves, we might be able to not only see the reason, but agree with what needs to be done."

Finishing off the wine in her cup, she unplugs the bottle and pours another dose. "You have your weapons, though - certain sorts of arrows for certain prey, a knife compared to a dagger compared to a sword or a spear depending on what's best for the situation. Words," and she gestures with her cup towards the scribes, "are the same, just on a different battlefield. All those words I said basically mean the same thing - but like you already know, each one has a different attitude, a subtly different meaning, and the selection of one over another can mean an entire realm worth of politicking. Literally a realm," she adds.

"Unfortunately, I'm going along with, and I doubt I'll be in a position to help anyone learn who isn't seriously interested in the task. And I'll certainly recommend to the king that we make sure there's a ... hm. Call it a 'common man' version, to help cut down on the confusion. As for the verbiage of the announcement ..." She looks down into her wine for a few moments, then says, "Did I say that Chalm has a very strong sense of right and wrong??"

:: Lyda ::

A few of the teamsters present - there's fifteen or twenty here at the moment, but notably very few horses - look a little wary at Lyda's clearly otherworldly origins, but they're all human. An odd thing, of the others, there's a dozen or more that have some very similar faces - a family resemblance - but their racial makeup runs from half-elf through human to half-orc. "I can see," says the red-hired half-elf as she leads you through the closely-packed chairs, tables, and glowing braziers, "that you're used to - or at least thinking of - a more formal, rigid structure. Trust me when I say that politics isn't anywhere near that clear-cut, and that's what this'll be eventually, politics. In any case, (here we are)" and she pauses to open up a door for you, one which reveals a tackroom that has clearly seen less-crowded days, filled as it is with chests and people performing arcane legibility things to parchment, "yes, there's an out for you. Have a seat. Wine? It isn't good wine, but it's wine. Sorry, where was I?"

She gives you a quick sideways grin as she pours red into a small horn cup, and another for you if you say yes. Passing the latter over and taking a sip from hers, she resumes. "Yes, your oaths are constructed so as to permit you to refuse the king's commands, or the laws of the land - once. If there is a decree with which you cannot abide, if His Majesty gives you a direction that violates your beliefs so utterly that you simply cannot in good conscience follow it, you go to the king, inform him that you cannot obey his law or his order, and you resign your title. Or abdicate, surrender, abjure, relinquish - whatever we decide the right word is. Hm. I'm beginning to like relinquish; what do you think?"

:: Lyda ::
Almost right after you ask about 'Żonka', it pops into your head that it's a particularly polite way of addressing someone, a 'lady by courtesy' term that a couple of people have said to you from time to time. "No, my name's Alysandra," replies the female as her destination becomes clarified as being the stables. "Alysandra Janus. I'm with the IB, the International Businessmen; we've been retained by King Kowalskiy to take care of the household's primary transportation needs - among other things."

Pulling open one of the stable doors, a visible gout of warm, moist air billows out from the inside; she goes in and, presuming you follow, leads you through a maze of wagons packed so tightly into the stable's sizeable passage you can barely get through there; occasionally ducking under a wagon or three is a necessity. "So for the moment, I live here - at least until we finally get out onto the road. More to the point, I'm the king's legal advice, so if you have a question about the oath ..." The two of you finally break free of the tightly-packed wagons, to enter what amounts to temporary living quarters for thirty-odd people. Drawing back her hood, the red-haired woman reveals the mildly-pointed ear and human cast to her features that help indicate her half-elven race. "I'm the one you'd want to ask."

Does that really matter, though? And it's no consolation to the slain. As long as it happens out of view of the city - which means near or past the location of the secret 3AM meeting - it won't matter much if a bunch of civilians disappear either 'into the Stolen Lands' or 'on their way into the Stolen Lands'. In any case. Jovich/Jasrella might have Christian's followers retreat into the city for a backup plan, and perhaps stick with Alysandra until after the meeting with Max - if Max decides to 'take the meeting' at all, that is.

A hundred more years, and it still might be. The only reason Tiananmen happened was mass communication (pagers); the only reason it became so well-known was mass communication (international news transmissions). But we're not here to talk about modern politics.

Ishana, in general I agree with you - which is why Alysandra said what she did, and why she's staying behind. (It's also why I've been so irate over the 'it took you 5 hours to pack up' bit, but that seems to have been ignored by the rest of the players.) However, if you have only 300 monks on foot 'clogging the road', it honestly would be faster for the pursuing troops to bypass them; even knights on horseback could do that at a slow canter along the verge, and the more the monks spread out to try to clog that, the sooner the Issian troops would actually get past them; all it would take is a curve of the road, or just a handful of monks knocked down/aside.

So while a massacre is possible, it'd only be likely should Maximillian and his forces return a) without the treasury AND b) frustrated instead of molified. I'm hoping that staying behind will forestall the entire thing, but I'm also expecting that if my diplomacy fails, Alysandra and anyone with her will be killed out of hand.

It's just the probable realistic consequence of the situation the GM has forced us into. And at this point, I'm good with that.

Frowining, Alysandra shakes her head slightly, then sighs. "I'd think they'd carry some amount of food with them," she admits. "Ghent always insisted on ten days for horses and people for the Businessmen; we've got twenty at the moment, but I can't imagine a flying column going out without two or three days worth of hardtack, jerky, and grain." Stepping away from the table as it's finally broken down, she looks across through the various IBmen she can see and, spotting the one she wants, gestures the dwarf archer in their midst to come over. "Monks ... will only slow them down for the ten minutes it takes to gallop past them. Or if they're really irritated, the fifteen minutes it takes to cut their way through them." She looks over at the girl and adds, "I'd rather not see your people get killed, but it isn't up to me; you make your own decisions."

To Freiya she says, "Get my things off Ghent's wagon for me, will you? And Coal's chairs and table, I can use those too." The dwarf nods silently, turns, then pauses as Alysandra starts speaking again.

"What I can do," she states, "is to provide for some amount of delay myself. I'll stay here and try to talk his ear off, if not talk him out of giving chase entirely." At this, Freiya hesitates, then touches her on the sleeve to get her attention; when Aly turns, the dwarf female taps herself on the breastbone, to Alysandra's apparent surprise. "Really? Only if you're sure."

Freiya gives a brief smile, then turns away once more to go retrieve Alysandra's gear. "Okay, Freiya and I are going to stay here and try to see if we can't talk ol' Max out of trying to catch the princess here. If anyone else wants to stick around, you're welcome, but only a couple or three other - mounted - people. Her Highness and the Captain will need help on the other end, too, especially if I manage to piss Max off."

Only if he were inside the city itself would it be useful to us, alas - and even then only if it were 'blatantly obvious' we had nothing to do with it. ;)

The IB will hustle the wagons along as best they can, but the furthest they'll get is 6 miles out, and will be caught by horse after 3 hours at most. The Cenobitic Monks ... honestly should have been on their way at 8:00, because they're an austere order with little to carry. At this point they'd be 3 x 3 = 9 miles out, but even leaving now they'll keep up just fine with the wagons.

Unless there's a lot of horse-bound carrying capacity, I don't think we'll be able to get the treasury significantly out of the way. We were told that it takes "2 big heavy slow wagons with a lot of goods and gold, or 2 small light fast ones with very little gold." Either way, it's between 2000 and 8000 lbs of wagon-bound goods and gold, so we're limited to wagon speed there. While we could, for example, split up the carrying between a large number of individuals (300 Cenobitic monks carrying an extra 20 lbs each = 6000 lbs), we've also been told that it would take most of a day to split it up, so that's out.

As a result, Alysandra will stay with a handful of people - Freiya and whomever else volunteers to play in-place rear-guard with her, preferably no more than 3 others (mounted people) - then set up her vented pavilion again, kick back, and wait for the General. While it would be nice to regenerate a 2nd level spell, I don't think anyone can do that for me; at least I saved the Master of Rhetoric ability's 1/day no-time Take 20. ;) So the General can come to the Courser's camp (because hey, palisade) where we'll be sitting and sipping some wine, and can offer him a nice chill glass. (Thank the Gods for the Tengu drinking jug!!)

Alysandra, with a roll of her eyes and a glance around, notices the reaction Rade has to the General's name. While she can place him in the family, she doesn't really know his reputation - but Rade's reaction is enough of a cue for her to go on. "My apologies to you for your lack of discretion" - by which she means the ability to decide what to do in a particular situation, should it be not what their superiors believe it to be, though her patience is clearly wearing a bit thin - "and my apologies to your master for the additional effort he may have to go through, but we are only obeying the orders of our liege lord, who is, as you might imagine, significantly more important to our future health, happiness, and prosperity than his cousins, whether Regent or General, might be. Perhaps, if you race back to the General's headquarters, you might give him word in time that he and some few of his men might advance to speak with us without unduly straining his communications with the forces under his command. But his concerns are not ours."

Alysandra is pretty confident of almost everyone else's attitude towards this demand; except for Garess, she'd guess most of the rest would say 'screw you, we're leaving'. Which is about what she's going to say, just not so nastily. She walks out to face the one of them that dismounts and approaches, while the last of the things are packed and the first of the wagons begin to move out; behind her, the dwarf female Freiya Fjar-Bana-Högg watches with quiet wariness.

"Sir," she says coolly but courteously, "Her Highness Rade Surtova, Master Anando Verisisi, and such other diverse individuals as accompany His Majesty Rupert the First, King of Sloboda, are not subject to the orders of the Regent of the Dragonscale Throne, Noleski Surtova. They were, by the Regent's own decree, exempted from his command and we, by dint of being his servants, allies, and entourage, are equally exempted from decrees, laws, regulations, and assorted other issues declared from the Dragonscale Throne and/or by its regent - such exemption being recognized by all civilized nations and individuals.

"Now," she continues, "while I agree that anyone who attacks you might well be labeled a brigand, one might wonder at your threats to declare those who don't comply with your - entirely improper - order to be traitors, and those who disagree more strenuously to be brigands and to be executed immediately. One might think it wise to, perhaps, take you into custody until such time as your offensive and aggravating threats can be taken up with the Surtova Regent in a more diplomatic manner. However, we are not one to start a ruckus needlessly, so we shall continue to do that which our king has instructed us to do - and that is to depart.

"Now, should you at some time in the future have a rightful and legal request to make of His Majesty, I am certain he will be glad to listen, should he find he has the time to spare from assembling his new domain. Until that time, however, we request that you depart forthwith and cease annoying us with your bluster and noise."

Thief. ;) The Battle of Maldon isn't one I would consider to be inspirational, though the Drake short story 'As Our Strength Lessens' is great. Perhaps the March of Cambreadth ... ;)

Leave, maybe? Flying whatever flag has been prepared for Sloboda, and failing that, Rupert Surtova's banner? It'd help to know what point in time we're at, since we were all believing we were leaving in the morning. I know the IB was given instructions when Aly left to pack up and be ready to depart; that packing up would have taken at most 45m (time to take down a pavilion), and the travel time to and from the site 3 miles away is roughly 20 minutes, which means they've been ready - and would have had the entire camp broken down and loaded, with the exceptions of whatever royal space would have been deliberately left out, presumably the pavilion in which they now are as well as the 'treasury pavilion' - since Garess got back. And the treasury tent would have started to be broken down as soon as he came over to our side. And the other camps were given orders to break down well before the interview with the mayor, so THEY should be ready to go too. If it weren't for the Restov people, we'd be an hour gone ... :P

"Lord-Mayor -" if they'd been alone, she would have pulled the personal-name gambit ("Ioseph - can I call you Ioseph?"), but with the retinue of six with him, she daren't cut at his authority over them in that manner "- they can only stop us if they want to expose their back to you. If you were as paranoid as Noleski Surtova, would you want to put a city to your rear that is as famed as Restov is for training very combat-capable individuals? I wouldn't. If we retreat into the city, Noleski has his case for war, and will immediately place Restov under siege; is the city ready for that?

"It is your decision -" and here she looks at the other six Restov leaders who are present "- the decision of all of you - whether or not to try to force us to your heel and begin a war you are not yet ready for, to let us go and hope we get away, or to do a single minor thing that any concerned Free City might do should they see an army marching towards their gate and subtly help us get away. The decision is yours - but I," and here she turns back to Ioseph, to meet his gaze intently, "do indeed hope you help us out. Whatever your decision, I suggest we all move outside the pavilion - I believe they're ready to take it down, which means we must be no more than ten minutes from departure."

"Depends on where we are. I have, um, "connections" that Sir Axhammer and others might not approve of. I can get us safely out as long as we aren't trapped to begin with."

Alysandra gives a slight quirk of a smile. "Fortunately, the lawbringers - especially Axhammer, who is not, after all, one of us - are not here. But your recommendation is noted - Ishana, your presence would be wel-"

As you ready to finish the meeting, the guards appear again.

"Two dozen riders from Restov approach!"
Some minutes afterwards Lord-Mayor Ioseph Sellenius appears, together with half dozen Restov nobles and guild masters, and 20 soldiers, all wearing a black ribbon on their right arm.

Alysandra's eyebrows lift slightly at the news - "The mountain comes to the prophet," she murmurs - and the sight of the black armbands. Well, she thinks, this was what we wanted, so ... "Porablum," she suggests, "how about if you shift a chair to the side - you know, semi-discrete sort of thing - and start playing some quiet court music for our background?" She knows as well as the other bard that that'll give perfect cover for inspirational performances.

As Sellenius and various nobles and guild representatives arrive, she moves forward to take the lead with the basic and straightforward courtesies. Once those are out of the way, she continues. "Lord Mayor Sellenius, while it is and shall always be a pleasure to receive you, might we inquire as to the reason for your unexpected visit?"

"We heard of the assassination of the late King Rupert Surtova, and came to give our respects to him and her daughter. We also want to invite her majesty to a special ceremony in the city, pledge our support for the time she want to continue her father's work, and offer our vault to store the resources she has for the task in the city, as to protect it from thieves."

With nary a glance at Rade, Stefan, or pretty much any of the others, Alysandra nods understanding. "We are reliably informed that His Majesty the King is not dead, but certainly we thank you for your support." 'We' in this instance is a mightily flexible thing; it could mean Rade as Queen, it could be meant for the missing Rupert, or it could mean for the gathered seconds-in-command.

If tell Rupert is not dead, he will answer. "We heard from Lord Axhammer Rocknose, the only survivor from the attack, that his majesty and all of the other lords that pledged their support to him were dead. He consulted the oracles in the city, and they all confirm his majesty, and all of the other of his missing followers, are not reachable, and are not in this world anymore. But we hope he is fine, and will come back, and we offer our protection, in the city, until the time of their return."

"I wouldn't really call Lord Axhammer a reliable witness though..."

Alysandra carefully does not step on Ishana's entry into the discussion, but waits until she's done. She definitely would not have revealed the source of their information, but crap, what's done is done. "Ah," comes Alysandra's dry response. "Master Rocknose. Well. The ... Hellknight," with subtle emphasis on 'Hell', "is either misinformed, mistaken, or misleading; I cannot speak for his motives. He, however - as well as Restov's oracles - is incorrect. Therefore, while we appreciate your desire to honor his memory, such a ceremony is, if not inappropriate, at least unneeded." Which should cleanly sidestep the 'issue' as to where to hold the stupid thing.

"However, as both Master Verisisi and Captain Garess,"[/b] she gestures to each in turn, indicating not only their survival but their very presence, "have informed us of the King's desires in the matter of the first actions to be taken in the formation of his kingdom, it is our intention, with the approval of Her Highness Rade Surtova," and she gives a dip of a curtsey to Rade, "to move ahead with these plans. As you can see outside," and another gesture indicates the mostly-taken-down camp, "though we have respected your messengers' request to not leave, which was clearly made in order to give you time to be informed and then confer upon us the honor of your presence, we are finalizing the preparations to do so. We do indeed thank you for your offer of protection for both Princess Rade and the Slobodan treasury" -- because naming it as a possession of another nation applies another subtle diplomatic pressure -- "but we intend to depart within the hour. Though our speed may be limited, we have expectations of making Nivakta's Crossing by nightfall, there to consult with those locals and determine our route for the next day."

No need to inform them of plans already made, after all.

"Our problem," says Alysandra, "is getting out far enough that a long supply chain becomes a problem for them. The wagons are easily caught by calvary; no matter our actions, calvary would easily pin us in place for whatever foot soldiery comes after. So ..."[/b] She shrugs, then suggests to Garess, "You might make plans to move Her Highness," (since Rupert is alive, Rade shouldn't be hailed as 'Queen' or 'Her/Your Majesty') "and the treasury to the Coursers' camp if a Restov troop comes pounding down the road with lances lowered. Meanwhile, the IB and all will get the place packed up." She looks around at everyone else and says, "If you weren't already doing it, I suggest you do the same."

Considering Ishana's offer, she glances at Stefan, and asks, "If they turn hostile, do you know a way for us to get out of the city without being seen?" If the answer is yes, Ishana needn't come; if the answer is no, then she'd be glad of the assist.

And with at least basic destination plans made - Nivatka's Crossing being the first goal - she gives orders to the IB to finish up packing and getting the place ready to move (with luck, the pavilion everyone is in is the only and last thing that has to be taken down and packed), and heads into Restov with Stefan and, possibly, Ishana.

Off we go?

"Kept you around means he valued you. And if they valued and trusted him, that means that they'll at least talk to you - and, I hope, anyone you bring with." Alysandra looks out the tent entrance, then sighs. "He's going to be a lecherous greaseball again, though. I hate dealing with them. Give me a straightforward business deal instead of politicians ..."

"International Businessmen, or IB, is the preferential way to refer to us," Alysandra corrects Jasrella absently. "You know, no matter where we go, we're not going to succeed in leaving unless we can basically persuade the Powers-That-Be in Restov that we're either more trouble than we're worth, or that it's otherwise in their best interests to see us off without interference." She frowns, hesitates, then looks up from the map. "I think it might be a good idea to tie that issue off early. If Stefan can get me in to see ... well, whomever it would be a good idea to see, I'd presume the Mayor, but perhaps there's a noble or two with critical influence? Anyhow, should we go try to convince them otherwise before they even get started? I suspect I could talk the Mayor into - or out of - almost anything, just now."

The 'conceal the treasury' idea was when we were needing to make a run for it. If Stefan has persuaded the Rostlanders to leave us be, scattering it becomes counterproductive.

"Stefan's right - taking the fort permanently is definitely a cause for war, " Alysandra finally weighs in, "but using it for a night or three isn't; you can bet that if we go that way, by the time we get down there there's going to be someone inside, a small bandit group or whatnot, who will have to be removed." She's eyeing the map, shaking her head and trying to think tactically, strategically, and politically all at once, and two of those are things she is, to be frank, not good at.

Hearing from Anando Verisisi how the king was thinking helps, though; the rest is just thinking like a carter. "How about if ... a day to Nivakta's Crossing, where maybe we can hire on a few additional hunters and trappers to serve as scouts and guides." Standing by the map, she starts marking off distances using her fore- and middle fingers. "We stay on the north side of the Shrike, because crossing one river is better than crossing two, and it's another day to Fort Serenko, where we can stop to finish shaking things down for a day or two - not a permanent stay, but making sure we've figured out what works on the road, what needs to be switched around, and switching them around. We do a last go-round of the horses and wagons - tack, shoes, reinforce anything on the wagons that's looking weak - and then when we leave, keep following the river. A day to Crooked Falls, a day to Shrike Falls, then one more day down the river and we pause for a day. Send scouts out to here," and she indicates the 'hairpin turn' in the river where the Stag Kingdom, the Kobold Land, and the Greenbelt meet, "rest and recover and fix up, and then we can either head overland to that point, or else if we can figure a way to use the river, we go downriver to that point.

"I don't know much about forting up - I'm the first to admit I'm not much of a carter - but there the river protects our back from major attacks. Fortify the point as our base, take the Stag Kingdom, run the kobolds into the dragon forest, and ally with - or negotiate absorption of - the Greenlands. If we manage just that part, I'm sure Oleg Leveton and his seven sons would jump at the chance, one way or the other."

When Level 20 Mythic 10 Coalhouse shows up from his travels in Wonderland, THEN we can fight :)

Hey, now - Coal doesn't mind a fight, but he doesn't want to fight. Besides, I've only plotted him out to L20/M6 ... ;)

I am under the assumption that all of the wanderers are currently with axhammer until stated otherwise.

Bachu sees Jasrella looking at the crater and goes and stands next to her and uses his detect evil on the crater.

When that is done he hurries back to the camp.

And Aolis/Sacha are being AFKPC'd ...

Rade Surtova is going back to camp, as everybody except Axhammer and his people.

... so Axhammer, Burfoot, their sixteen followers and ten hirelings are there alone.

Alysandra looks at Ghent, and Ghent shrugs, spreading his hands. "With solid knowledge," he apologizes, spreading his hands, "which one is the better plan becomes six to five and pick 'em. The Old Man always says that the best lie is one you yourself never tell, though."

"Just enough truth," Alysandra agrees, musing, trying to figure between trying clumsily to scatter the treasury despite Verisisi's warning and Garess's probable reluctance, or ... and a flicker of lightning sparks in her eyes. "New plan," she says, her head coming up. "We tell the truth - but only a certain amount. Stefan - sorry about the name thing, I didn't see you there - anyhow, talk to the two from Restov, like Ishana says. Let them know that the king and the others ..." She hesitates, hunting for the right word, then concludes with, "... left early. Which is true, Coalhouse left at two-thirty this morning. If they ask if they're alive, feel free to scoff and say of course your boss is alive. Stick to the absolute facts, don't let them try to push you into lying. If they ask where they are right now, tell them you don't know - because you wouldn't know exactly where they are, of course. If they ask what we're going to do, why --" She looks over at Garess, then Verisisi, then Ishana, Porablum, Hareth, Jasrella, and - finally - Rade. She smiles and says, "Tell them we're going ahead with leaving today, as per the king's plan. In any case, try to convince them, as subtly as you can, that no, something forceful on their part would only get a lot of people killed. And though Ishana might be right about someone else coming with you ... having someone else there for backup, whether that's physical, magical, or social, isn't a bad idea."

She looks at Ghent, who gives a crooked grin, then turns to Jocasta and says to her, "Get it all packed, as per arrangements." Turning back to Ghent, then glancing at Stefan, she asks, "Presume they don't take that as an answer. Can we slow them down? Delay them somehow?"

"Not so far as I know," replies Ghent. "Best bet would be for the gates to get screwed with when they're in the closed position, or capable of being closed. Mess up the mechanicals, and it's out of service for hours, at least."

Alysandra sighs. "Well ... we might have to talk our way out of this one. Hate to get into it here, though."

"Why the hell are they coming here for the other ones?" mutters Alysandra under her breath. She looks at Garess. "Decision time. This is the best chance to start the ball rolling - bring them in under guard, I can have the Businessmen raise a bit of fuss to make it clear that it's for their protection. Put them into a tent, the Royal pavilion or something, as guests; Master Verisisi, I'm sure you know somewhere. Do the whole courtesy thing, wine, a bit of food so early in the morning, send an underbutler or something to do it. Let them know after they're in the tent, that they'll be seen as soon as the current meeting is over. We split the treasury now, Lord Garess sends for his select riders to get ready, and then these riders from Restov are right there to be an audience for Lord Garess to kick all the rest of you out. You can have a brusque meeting, some nasty exchanges, do some verbal nose-punching, tell them it's none of their damn business, then after ten or fifteen minutes you throw them out. Better, give orders to throw them out. While they're being ushered out, you and your riders hightail it out of here, and we still in the camp can interfere with their departure for a couple of minutes. That'll give you and the chasers from the various groups a head start, and keep these two as inadvertent witnesses. THEN they go rushing back, and a pursuit gets organized, all that stuff."

Alysandra shakes her head. "Lord Garess, you are being premature with your intent to return the treasury to the Regent on the Dragonscale Throne; you have no proof, no body, nothing but an explosion and the lack of the king's presence. You simply do not know that King Rupert is dead. Give us time to find out, and cooperate with us during that time. Correct me if I'm wrong, but as I understand it, you want the treasure to be, by preference, in King Rupert's hands and being distributed as he desires it, or else returned to Regent Noleski. As things are, if you and we don't help each other, the Free City will take the treasury - yes, over your dead body - inside two days, if not two hours. Work with us for two weeks - I'd prefer two months, but I suspect there's no way you'd give us that long - anyhow, work with us for two weeks.

"Either King Rupert and our best friends and family," she gestures to herself, the others from the Businessmen, and the cohorts assembled in the pavilion, "will return, or we'll have a far greater likelihood of having proof that they're actually dead. Or, as Porablum says, after two weeks you may see that young Rade has the makings of a queen as good or better than her father as king, and we may well be on our way to making good on the original expedition - and would you not prefer to fulfill the spirit of your orders, of protecting the crown as a new kingdom is established in the Stolen Lands, or the letter of it and return to Lord Noleski even though such a kingdom is being successfully created? I've heard he's a stickler, but I also know he likes ... results."

"As for keeping a hold of the treasury itself, well ..." She frowns for a moment, considering that, and as she does, Ghent Maston, a man of about forty years, steps up behind her and says a few quiet words to her.

"You do?" she asks, and he nods. "Well, hell, let's hear it."

*facepalm* Hordes don't usually get diplomacy done, but on the other hand, this might devolve into intimidation ...

On the way, Alysandra is going to be casting Honeyed Tongue (50 minutes, roll twice for Diplomacy checks to improve attitude) and Seducer's Eyes (50 minutes, +2 to all CHA-based skill checks vs. those who could be sexually attracted to her) on herself, as well as having Sociable active.

Alysandra eases to the front. "You mistake the Queen's words. While that was framed as a polite request, it was in the nature of instructions. Nor does Garess possess the authority to deny the camp to either its mistress," and here she gestures with one hand to Rade Surtova, "or to members of it," and she gestures with the other hand to indicate herself and the other six International Businessmen who are with or have just rejoined her, "without the express direction of the mistress of the camp unless, she being present, he should feel that her life is in danger. Since the Queen is here, and you are preventing her from entering her domain, your guard captain is coming very, very close to lèse-majesté, the penalty for which is to grow six inches shorter - on the top end."

"So what we're going to do," and here she gives a broad gesture of her arm to indicate not only Rade and herself, but also the dozen or more very survival-competent individuals present, who outnumber the guards present by at least two-to-one (and probably more), is to enter our home, however temporary a home it may be, and speak with Kresten about achieving his short-term goals as well as our long-term ones. All you have to do is to make certain that peole who are not authorised by the mistress of the camp - that would be the Queen, here," and she indicates Rade once again with an open-handed gesture and a slight bow, "are not allowed entrance, and to ensure that people she authorizes are permitted entrance."

Persuasion Roll #1: 1d20 + 24 ⇒ (10) + 24 = 34
Persuasion Roll #2: 1d20 + 24 ⇒ (3) + 24 = 27

Obviously, I'll use the better of those two. If and only if the guard tries to bluster with 'we don't obey you, we obey King Noleski Surtova', Alysandra will get out the verbal thumbscrews and saya the following.

"That may well be, but you're not in Noleski's camp, are you? And Noleski isn't here to back you up, is he? Lay down your weapons and you'll be released when we leave; resist, and pray to whatever god you expect to be seeing shortly."

Intimidation: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (18) + 10 = 28

Steven Tomato!!

*eyes Marching Chant* Combine a pikestaff (or multiple ones) that does that, along with a lord's banner of swiftness flying from it ... horses have 50' move, so 10 miles per hour to be hustling but 'earning' only walking fatigue ... then the LBoS allowing them to march for well over 8 hours in a day ... and you have an army that can go from one end of a kingdom to the other overnight AND fight a battle at the end of the march.

"Whether I'm completely right is ... well, not entirely likely, let's say," Alysandra says with a grim smile, "but I think I'm less wrong than I could be." Thumping her leg slightly with her fist, she adds, "Everyone, Garess could be on his way inside five minutes if he really wanted to get only the most valuable things out of the camp. We need to be able to talk to him or head him off now. Can we all agree that we're behind Rade on this? And if we are, we need to move, because everyone else will be. Hareth? The rest of you militant sorts?"

She then adds, "We need information, and I need to get word into my people. Can anyone perform a Sending on my behalf?" Glancing at the document, she frowns, then steps back to it to take a closer look. "And ... what was his name. Does anyone remember the name of the Lebeda fencer's second? Steven Tomato, or something like that, wasn't it? Merus Lebeda's name is on this, so Master Tomato should be made aware." She hesitates, then looks apologetically over at Anando Verisisi. "My apologies, Master Verisisi, but how quickly could you make a copy of this, that we might send it with someone to Master Tomato-whatever to show it to him?"

"Anando, don't. Not yet. We may be our leaders' heirs - though technically, Jocasta is Coalhouse's heir - but leaping to sign is a bad idea. It's morally and ethically and legally ... shaky, at best. We wait a minimum of two weeks. However, reminding Garess," Alysandra notes, "even if the reminding is done magically, that the goods that he is currently assembling to take back to Issia were a gift to Rupert from his cousin Noleski would not be ... a misuse, I think. Remind him that since Rade is Rupert's heir, and since she wants to continue to create Sloboda, the goal Noleski wants may well still take place - since, I would presume, he hasn't seen this document."

"Possession is nine-tenths of the law," says Alysandra drily, "and we do not currently have possession; Kresten Garess does. My brother says the most parts a successful plan can have is three, and to plan for maximum complication is a fool's errand. Persuade him, eliminate his options, and going into the Stolen Lands - Sloboda-to-be - becomes his must-choose selection." She hesitates, and adds, "Persuasion is still our best choice, but we have to get into the camp. And all of us being ready to move is, I imagine, pretty important too."

Alysandra rubs her thigh with one finger. "I think political appointments - prime minister and the like - should perhaps wait until we're clear of Restov and Rostland. That said, your Highness," she addresses the queen-presumptive, "Master Verisisi, it might indeed be best to establish some sort of chain of command."

Ghent shrugs. "Hour, hour and a half? Two at the most. Patricia, Zeb, and the twins had orders to get everyone to start breaking down and loading up the back end. Probably not done, but should be close. Even so, most of what's necessary would be the front end." Meaning, of course, the royal portion of the encampments. Guards can handle their own stuff, but the royal pavilions and such would still need to be taken down and stowed.

Aly frowns, scratching at an itch on the inner fold of one ear. "Discount the most problematical of the royal luxuries."

That earns another shrug from Ghent. "Half hour, maybe? I'd have to see what's necessary to be sure, but forty-five minutes at the most."

Alysandra considers the information, then nods. "Take Caleb and Jocasta, see if you can't find a vantage to look inside, see what needs to be done. Make a plan for it - necessaries first."

Ghent nods and, corralling the two, goes out.

Once she has a chance to look at the document, Alysandra frowns. "Half?" she mutters to herself. "Two-thirds would be better." Looking up, she glances around at the assembled seconds-in-command, then straightens up. "I recommend," she emphasizes, "that everyone begin to break camp. I am entirely behind this document," she says, tapping it before letting whomever else study it, "and since all of our leaders - even yours," she says directly to the Khavortorov quartet, "have signed their names to it, I think it'd be best for us to follow through on their intentions."

"One of the best ways of making someone make the decision you want is to leave them no other option. If we block his other options, leave him one way out, the way we want him to go - obviously we don't have to block the way into the city, he wouldn't take that if his life depended on it - then he'll take it. Once he gets moving on the road, I think we can make it obvious we need to talk ..."

She looks out of the pavilion and towards the royal encampment. "If only I could talk to him," she says, thinking for a moment. "I think ... I think I need to get a message to the IB members inside. Between a distraction inside and perhaps some assistance from you out here, I can slip inside, then go find a way to talk to him. I shouldn't be looked at twice, since I'm part of the encampment ..."

Since #2, #1 doesn't matter, and #3 (the 'passive-aggressive' within-earshot-of-the-queen) is entirely part of the point. While Porablum may not care about appearances, when you're dealing with politics appearances do indeed matter. Going to any camp but her own will appear to be a forced move. If you're concerned about her safety, then join her camp, help Alysandra persuade the other 10 at-large forces to join the queen's camp, adn then fortify the place. Instead of 4/5 forces in an established pallisade, there'll be 12 of them, some of which will be able to assemble a pallisade in no time at all.

As for the #3 part, stating this within the queen's hearing, my apologies if it seemed that it was targeted at Porablum; it was not. It was meant for the queen-presumtive - she's a political innocent, and she desperately needs a high-speed education and someone who can teach her. Kresten Garess won't be it, and while Anando Verisisi might be such an adept, I doubt that he actually is. While Porablum looks to be Rade's best friend, Alysandra is arguably the best to teach her politics.

As Porablum talks with Queen-Presumptive Rade, Alysandra looks about for Anando Verisisi, finally moving to speak with him. "Master Verisisi, we never did manage to find out what the king's intentions were to be. Would you be so kind as to enlighten us?"

Were any of my questions/intentions going to be addressed, or since I didn't post immediately and ICly in regards to the question yesterday about people allowing Garess to ride off that nothing in my OOC post above is going to be answered/reflected in anything? I guess I'm wondering if we have to post ICly in order to have our questions / actions have any effect.

She will also ask Alysandra to have the International Businessmen get Rade's belongings and King Rupert's from the King's camp and move them to the Coursers camp, since Kesten leading his guards away means the camp will no longer be safe for her.

If Jasrella and Hareth are okay with it, she will also extend an invitation to the IB camp to merge with the Coursers camp.

Alysandra will counter by suggesting that instead of the Queen-Presumptive be seen to be succumbing to control by one party or another, the Coursers instead come to reinforce the King's encampment. "Because you don't make a queen join you," she makes sure to say within earshot of Rade, "YOU make sure you join her." The International Businessmen will not acquiesce to moving the the royal baggage or its train to the Coursers' camp.

Seriously - join her, don't drag her off to your camp, otherwise you're doing the same thing that Axhammer was going to try to do. He may not have MEANT it to be that, but like Coalhouse's warning of 'I'm a stupid paladin' inevitability, that's how it would be SEEN to be.

Alysandra gives a wry smile and, having used her sleeves of many garments along the way to make her clothes appear to be a riding outfit of the wealthy sort (and one to flatter her form and coloration), she watches and listens to the interactions until Jasrella sends the elf back up the road; the ... assertiveness of the Rocknose pair causes her some disquiet, but she conceals it by dismounting.

What has her especially concerned is the split between Garess and Verisisi, and since Rade Surtova and Porablum are both there, the latter having wanted to speak with her, that's not a bad place to be. "I personally believe," she interjects smoothly, "that the missing are alive; Coalhouse is a tough nut to crack, and since I presume by the presence of so many of us that all the top members of our groups were here, it would have been a vicious fight - which doesn't seem to be displayed by the surroundings, or the fact that we didn't hear all the bangs and booms and caterwauling that usually accompanies a battle. However, if we could be informed of the instructions you two are speaking about, we might better be able to make an informed decision about the best way to move forward." Her gaze turns to Garess, as he seems to be the one who intends to go shooting off, and if that can be nipped in the bud, well, all the better. "Captain Garess, would you be willing to go first?"

Sorry, I meant the exchange between Porablum and Rade Surtova.
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (20) + 11 = 31

Standing amongst the onlookers watching the duel, Alysandra shakes her head and says to Porablum (presuming the two are still together), "Are they really moving as fast as they can? I'm not an expert myself, but Coalhouse is at least twice as quick in his workouts - and strikes three times as fast in combat."

Hmmm. Is Alysandra there for that exchange? And Alysandra will stick around for The Duel, it being so popular a thing. ;)

During and after the dinner, Alysandra continues to make contacts with the Restov contingent, particularly the merchants; she, of course, is looking to make cartage plans for trade into (and out of!) the new kingdom. People will be needing things, people will be wanting things, resupply will be necessary, treasure found will be spent, and Alysandra does her best to make a point of reminding the merchants about such things - and about how having someone with a dozen wagons willing to move things around can only help. She's not out to actually draw up contracts - can't do that at a diplomatic dinner - but instead is out to put into their minds the benefits of working and associating with the International Businessmen.

"Mylady, I seriously doubt you can be seen as one of the "commons". And most of the people in this place would like me to be far away. North, if possibly, not south."

"Your Majesty," replies Alysandra, "the current company most certainly sees me as such, as will most nobility. It is not, for me, something to be ashamed of. As for the current company ..." She shrus elegantly. "The start of things is not the end of things."

"Now, if you excuse me, I think dinner is going to start."

"Of course, Your Majesty." She dips into another deep curtsey until the king turns and takes at least a couple steps away.

Just as a note, not an excuse, is easier for me when the cohort's actions are under their own alias.

Actually, everything WAS under Alysandra's alias - it was Coalhouse's actions that were under hers. (Though that was really just a 'repeat' of what he'd been doing before ...)

His majesty Rupert Surtova, breaking protocol, takes Alysandra's arm and helps her stand.

"Please stand, I am still not comfortable with all this ceremony and pomp."

Nonetheless aware of the etiquette, and keeping alert for movement by the king, Alysandra manages to catch his move towards her and rise before he can commit what would still essentially be a faux pas - he might have been made king, but he's still walking a fine, fine line between needing to make the locals not want to kill him on the spot (tough job) and needing to make sure he receives the courtesies of the royalty he's become. "It will be up to you to determine how much of it you accept in the new lands, Your Majesty," replies the half-elf woman, "but for now cetain courtesies are expected - especially from one of the commons. Always difficult trying to figure out how the vast majority of your people view you." Although she knows that this is probably not the best place to lobby for a form of government different than what Brevoy possesses, she seriously considers it; she isn't likely to have the king's attention all that often.

I take it the king is ignoring Alysandra?

Lord-Mayor Ioseph Sellenius seems to be lost in Alysandra's eyes.

"Of course my dear. I thank you for your kind words towards my city. Well, you must know we are VERY proud of our heritage, and won't let foreigners try and take over it, and our lands. But let's talk about more charming things... are you married?"

With a light laugh, Alysandra demurrs. "My Lord, my father would never give me permission to marry one of Restov - and I do not yet possess the wherewithal to defy him. And so, at least for the nonce, I am married to my job. If our endeavours result in success - great success, hopefully - perhaps we might revisit such a question in the future ... ? Alas, now I must go, for my brother - who is indeed a harsh taskmaster - is indicating he wishes my presence. I hope to see you again tomorrow - we shall speak to the king as soon as may be arranged, and send a messenger to you with what times are available to us, so that you may choose which is most convenient for you and make arrangements." With that - and taking back her hand as firmly as may be required - she drops into another deep curtsey before easing away to rejoin Coalhouse.

Coalhouse, for his turn, didn't make any such indication, but if there's one thing Alysandra knows how to do, it's how to get away from smarmy lecherous politicians. Still mildly irrtated over the overly-offensive Aldori's snickering laughter (and wouldn't he have been surprised with a broken nose or arm delivered right then), Coalhouse is still looking for Anando Verisisi.

Alysandra links her arm with her brother, and the two converse as they stroll; with black amusement, Aly notices the encounter between Lebeda and 'Lord' Christian on the one hand, and the Khavortorov brothers on the other, and steers Coalhouse close enough to catch an earful; Midnight, of course, how melodramatic. Spotting the king emerge from his converence with Amavin Zephyra, Alysandra asks a question; Coalhouse looks over, then shakes his head, suggesting something back. She nods, and the two part once more, Coalhouse to again hunt down the halfling Verisisi.

Aly, of course, knows how to approach royalty - which is to say, you see which way they're going, and position yourself so they'll encounter you naturally. And that's exactly what she does, dropping into a deep curtsey as the king nears - and holds it until the king acknowledges her and gives her permission to rise, which is the proper way to do such things....

Restov's Lord-Mayor Ioseph Sellenius' eyes widen and a smile shows in his lips when Alysandra talks to him. He proceeds to ignore a couple swordlords talking to them and kiss the Helf-Elf hand.

"A pleasure to meet you, mylady. A real pleasure."
Alysandra has seen that effect before. She is "his type".

Bloody sacred -- of course I am, she fumes silently, not a hint of her inner irritation showing on Alysandra's face. Have to play with that, but if this little weasel thinks he can get under my skirt ... y'know, I wonder what would happen if Jocasta could swap in just before he tries something serious. That'd be amusing. The mental image causes her to smile a bit more genuinely, which can only be an asset.

"But of course we need to prevent some of the animosity of some of Restov's citizen to permeate to your group, which is only doing their business. I will personally talk to them, and maybe set up a meeting between you and me. And some chosen people, of course. Tomorrow maybe? Well, may I inquire what is your opinion on our city and their people?"

"We would be delighted to speak with a ... useful ... representational group of your influential merchants and nobles, my Lord Mayor," says the attractive half-elf, not saying that by 'we' she means 'Coalhouse and I'; if that isn't understood, then that's the Mayor's failure. "The scheduling for the movement of the baggage train would have to be examined, but I'm sure we can find an hour or two to spare to discuss items of interest. As for your city, it has a delightful charm which I have never experienced in any other, and its people retain a distinct and visible pride in their heritage." Which, in the language of diplomatic courtesy, means that the place is hopelessly provincial (as compared to cosmopolitan) and its people insular and belligerant. She hasn't forgotten the thugs looking to club Quentin and Lida just for doing their jobs.

Given a new task, Alysandra returns to the shark-infested waters of the room with verve and delight. Oh, she's a little better in the boardroom than in the ballroom, but one must confess that the margin of difference is slim - and she's excellent in both, which is one of the many reasons Coalhouse values her so highly. Her main targets are the Restov nobility - specifically those who have mercantile interests, especially if those interests are to the south, if she can only recall who exactly they are.

Her first stop, naturally, is to personally greet the Lord Mayor, instead of just a distant curtsey - though that personal greeting is not devoid of such a courtesy, which immediately follows her approach and the words, "My Lord Mayor of Restov," spoken in her exquisite voice. The deep curtsey is precisely tuned to his social rank as well as tonight's position as host, and she rises from it ready to either offer her hand to him should he have his hand out to her, or simply to speak.

"Permit me to introduce myself. I am Alysandra Janus, of the International Businessmen. It is the wish of both myself and my brother, Coalhouse Porter, that through ties of trade we can make the new lands into a valued partner of Restov and Rostland, one which would desire only prosperity and self-determination for its northern neighbor. We have, after all, taken the contract of ensuring the safe movement of King Rupert's baggage train in light of this wish, and despite the ... clear displeasure that doing so has incurred for us in these climes - though it is, after all, only a single contract." A gesture of her hand indicates the room and its Restov nobility, currently treating her and her sibling as so much manure on the bottom of their collective boots.

That had been the intent, yes.

Christian just laughs a deep rolling laugh that is just loud enough for the guest in the immediate vicinity to hear. Crass..., I have been accused of doing things in many different ways...but Crass? You tilted into a conversation with that line..really..Crass

Continuing to shake his head and still laughing
You are so cute when you try to be cheeky
His smile is genuine and sincere.

Alysandra's smile is polite, but it's clear she knows the utter, monstrous magnitude of the insult Christian has just offered her. Were she a noble, there would be blood on the floor already but, as a commoner, she will have to settle for metaphoric blood, and so her own attitude and vocal leanings are that of the protocol mistress, striving to instruct a boorish young student lacking in tact and grace. "Lord Christian, you were crass; you even stated you had no intention of trying to be diplomatic. I merely sought to diffuse the tension caused by you poinarding Master Lebeda with such an uncouth, gruesome question. As for the rest, well, I am certain that such words will be most welcomed by someone of your own social experience; might I recommend my brother, Coalhouse?"

Good gentles..as she has stated this is Alysandra Janus. Porter's second. They followed our illustrious King from way up north. To be chosen to handle his Majesties baggage gives you an idea as to how connected they are.

"It is always encouraging to hear someone show understanding of the facts of the matter, even if they have the need to talk it out to be able to do so," she agrees with Christian in a tone that lacks only the hand movement to be patting a particularly slow student on the head as a reward.

Still smiling, Christian turns towards his two original guest.

Gentlemen, I can not speak for you but she has asked for a moment of your time. I beg of your time as well, to continue our conversation for just a wee bit more...please. Perhaps the three of us can continue this over those delicious crab beignets. Christian points to an area on the other side of the room.

"Don't be silly, you supercilious man, I wouldn't dare think of depriving you of either your opportunity to pummel Master Lebeda about the head and shoulders so gauchely or the only grace you've possessed tonight by taking your lady from your side. Lady Domas; Master Lebeda; Master Tomanescu." She gives each a courteous bow of her head as she names them, then gives Christian a sympathetic smile, pats him on the shoulder, and glides off into the crowd.

Perhaps Coalhouse's choice of subtlety is in order to contrast with his flame-haired half-sister. Although her skin bears the mark of a worker - meaning it lacks the paleness of a lady who has no need to work - the light tan of her skin appears to be even across what skin one can see. Her gown reflects her scintilating eyes in a ripple of emerald, from the portrait neckline that displays her exquisite neck and collarbones down to the bust-to-hips sculpting of the basque bodice, the cap sleeves which show off leanly-muscled arms to the floor-length pleated gown under which flicker a hint of scarlet shoes to match her hair. She sports a similar 'IB' as her half-brother, hers a gold-inlayed-emerald fibula, though her other jewelry is as rich but understated as his - small emeralds in her ears, thin gold hoops around her wrists, an 'IB' signet ring all but matching Coalhouse's, and an impossibly thin elf-wrought necklace in gold bearing a single ruby.

Unlike her half-brother, and though Alysandra does not have quite the scintillating beauty or aura of power that Amavin Zephyra possesses, this is a battlefield familiar to her. With every move perfectly right, a courtesy as she approaches, a 'delighted to make your acquaintance, Lord X' as she eases past, she approaches Ignatius. "Sir Ignatius, a pleasure to see you again, and so soon. If you would be willing, might my brother have a word with yourself and a select pair of others?" Should he indeed be willing, she draws him over to the corner of the room wherein stands the tall [for a gnome] Axhammer Rocknose, timing their approach so as to match that of Coalhouse and, should he be accompanied, Azrael.

Then curtseying to the four gentlemen (or rather, three gentlemen and a brother), she eases back into the social combat, soon approaching Merus Lebeda and Stefan Tomanescu; she arrives in time to hear Christian's blunt query. "Why, Lord Christian, what a most crass way of asking. I am certain Masters Lebeda and Tomanescu have nothing but the most honorable intentions in regards to the people of Restov, Restov herself, and the Stolen Lands. Master Lebeda," she says, turning towards him and dipping an elegant curtsey, "allow me to introduce myself. Alysandra Janus, of the International Businessmen, contracted to move the baggage train of His Royal Majesty, King Rupert Surtova. Might I trouble you for a moment or two of your time, should you find yourself at loose ends?"

Heh. Well, your compatriots are having a little meeting, if you want to pro forma poke your head in. And then you can make little 'nods thoughtfully' and 'leans back and considers what X says' posts for the next while. ;)