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After a long delay, the Twins return to the ballroom. The female Twin is adjusting her sleeves, her male partner marching behind her.
"Dear brother, we missed the entrance of the Grand Prince!" the female Twin exclaims, aghast. "Your Grace, forgive our rudeness. We were engrossed in a most stimulating game." She curtsies, then takes his hand and kisses his signet ring.
The male Twin bows stiffly to the Grand Prince, as if in armor. "Sister, it is rude to fawn over royalty," he states, "There are other guests who joined us after the game began as well. We should be as considerate to them."
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With the intermission of the games and the socializing between the players. The Wintery Drake, begins to play tunes more suited to dancing. With a clawed hand he directs the Orchestra and mingles the gentle work of his Lyre into the whimsical notes of a mid range song, not to fast, not to slow... enticing the ball to dance.
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"Thus far, the Society, the organization that binds many of us, has largely stayed away from Taldan business. But we as individuals, with our accumulated wealth, talent, and skill, can obviously do plenty, and we can likely employ utilize our influence with the Society to employ its resources. We all speak of support for the Princess, but what can we do? What sort of ideas or plans have you, my worthy guests, thought of or put into place?"
The Samurai quaffs yet another glass of wine, though seems no worse the wear for his hearty imbibing. He waves at the Snow Princess' question. "One helps Taldor by reminding the Inner Sea of our place and reclaiming it!," he roars. "Once, we have stood upon the backs of the devil-worshippers and anarchic firebrands that pollute the air with their nonsense. Once, we stood as their betters through force of arms and right of rule. Through such great victories again, we shall return to being the pillar of Golarion, the light of Avistan - the divided nations shall again gather willingly under our banner to be a part of the new Age of Destiny that our glory will create!"
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The Samurai quaffs yet another glass of wine, though seems no worse the wear for his hearty imbibing. He waves at the Snow Princess' question. "One helps Taldor by reminding the Inner Sea of our place and reclaiming it!," he roars. "Once, we have stood upon the backs of the devil-worshippers and anarchic firebrands that pollute the air with their nonsense. Once, we stood as their betters through force of arms and right of rule. Through such great victories again, we shall return to being the pillar of Golarion, the light of Avistan - the divided nations shall again gather willingly under our banner to be a part of the new Age of Destiny that our glory will create!"
Sipping her own wine, the female Twin listens attentively to the Midnight Samurai's speech. After swirling the wine in her glass for a few moments, she responds.
"Your speech might play well on the battlefield, but I hope Taldor's politicians are wise enough to discard such a militaristic course as the fool's gold it is. Was not it the Even-Tongued Conquest, carried out by a Taldan governor, that led to the Empire's splintering? Surely, repeating the same failed plan again and again is the definition of madness."
The white-clad woman locks eyes with her Twin, and he continues the narrative.
"To rise again as a glorious power, Taldor must learn from its errors. It must engage in a painful self-examination to identify its failures and purge its weakness. While her armies were mighty, Taldor never saw the might of the spoken word until Aspex the Even-Tongued carved himself half the empire without so much as drawing his sword. Military might will win you riches, but an empire demands more."
The two Twins continue to stare only at each other as the female Twin proceeds.
"Taldor must see the error of her ways and embrace what made the Cheliax of old great. She cannot rule through guile and trade; Qadira is the Gateway to the East, and Cheliax controls entry to Tien lands through Corentyn and the Arch of Aroden. No, Taldor might win much through strength of arms but the days where her military might was unmatched are gone. Andoran, Cheliax, and the Keleshites that back Qadira all boast stronger armies and Osirion can call on its terrible elemental allies to bolster its formidable forces. Taldor must instead win the minds of those she rules embracing diplomacy and her status as the oldest nation in Avistan in order to rise again. Taldor will never again be Queen of the Inner Sea, but by her pedigree, wisdom, and silver tongue she might be the power behind all other thrones."
The Twins finally break their gaze, as the male Twin finishes his sister's thought:
"But this will only happen if Taldor's elite purge themselves of the follies of the past, set aside their warmongerng ways, and emulate the practices of her lost colonies who have embraced the future while she sat and dwelt upon her glorious past."
"AHA! I believe I've found you out, Princess." The Prince says, ever playful in his tone. "Is this a party, or a political rally?"
"A rally?" the Princess playfully asks. "Of course not, Your Majesty. If this were a rally, I would have made a rousing speech rather than merely ask a question."
She seems to think of something important. "I do have one question, though. Perhaps our mutual friend could acquire one of those Andoren printing presses for me? I am certain that I would find good use for one in the future."
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The Kuthona Rat notices the return of the Twins and pales a little beneath his mask. After breathing deeply for a moment to steady his resolve, he steps behind the entry doors.
"But this will only happen if Taldor's elite purge themselves of the follies of the past, set aside their warmongerng ways, and emulate the practices of her lost colonies who have embraced the future while she sat and dwelt upon her glorious past."
"Follies?" the hostess asks, visibly enjoying the Twins' speech. She thinks for a moment before cracking a smile. "That is one quality of the Society. Its members are certainly exposed to all the corners of the world, and all of its greatest practices."
"And speaking of the corners of the world, what would your opinion be of any Taldan show of force in the Worldwound?" she asks.
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"And speaking of the corners of the world, what would your opinion be of any Taldan show of force in the Worldwound?" she asks.
"The Worldwound is precisely the show of force we need! It's a certain kind of fool that would presume that a display of force need be brought to bear against those we would gather behind us, as though we would salt the fields we wished to sow," the Samurai says with an unsubtle look at the Twins. "To whisper in their ears without having the strength to draw them near enough for whispers to be heard? Bah!" The Samurai's lip draws into a sneer. "The Even-Tongued Conquest did not win an empire, it broke one. To speak of our grandeur with empty words is as much a folly as to march into their lands without allies or a war chest. No, these fractured lands need a threat - the Worldwound - and a leader to rally behind - our princess, leading the greatest party of heroes that the world has seen for to slay the demonic hordes. The nations of the Inner Sea will no more listen to the nation that stayed home to bandy politics when demons came than they will listen to an empire who only swashes it's bucklers and calls for the old tales. We have the might to make new tales, to inspire as we ambitious few are - so let us go forth and make those tales!"
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The masked twins stare blankly at the Midnight Samurai for a moment before the female Twin turns to her brother and speaks.
"Brother, you see why decadent Taldor falls? Its intellectuals swill wine and dismiss their greatest defeats while the 'lost colony' to the south embraces progress and the 'lost colony' to the west monetizes their vast natural resource wealth." Throughout her speech, the female Twin's voice slowly rises.
"It is their great weakness, sister, and why the Lady Morilla swims upriver," her brother replies slowly, his tone kept carefully neutral, "The Even-Tongued Conquest itself was as much seizing an opportunity created by Taldor's foolish military belligerence abroad as it was brilliant military and diplomatic maneuvering by then-Governor Aspix. Perhaps if Taldor spent more time speaking with her neighbors and less time speaking to them, she would understand why saber-rattling is a wasted diplomatic exercise?"
The Twins turn in unison to face their host, and the male Twin addresses her question. "A show of military might in the Worldwound would do much for Taldor's standing in the world. Any action for the good of more than just the Taldan nobility will grow Taldor's political capital abroad and strengthen her position at the bargaining table with her neighbors. I would concern myself less with the value of the expedition, which is clear, and more with how that political capital is spent after it is accrued. There is little use dwelling on the aftermath of failure; if the Worldwound breaks Queen Galfrey's line, there will be no nations left for Taldor to conquer."
The Masked Cat does her best to look interested and thoughtful during the discussion of Princess Eutropia, and the Taldan forces dispatched to the Worldwound. She nods occasionally when she feels someone has made a good point, such as the female twin emphasizing "silver-tongued diplomacy". Particularly insightful party-goers might guess that her silence betrays a lack of detailed knowledge about Taldan politics.
Occasionally she speaks quietly with Lord Tiger, comments like, "Isn't that a bit silly that she can't inherit the throne because she's a woman? Certainly other countries have had queens and they're not, on average, any better or worse than kings. I don't see why it's such a big deal . . ."
"It is their great weakness, sister, and why the Lady Morilla swims upriver," her brother replies slowly, his tone kept carefully neutral, "The Even-Tongued Conquest itself was as much seizing an opportunity created by Taldor's foolish military belligerence abroad as it was brilliant military and diplomatic maneuvering by then-Governor Aspix....
The hostess nods before adding a comment. "Seizing an opportunity, the two of you are certainly correct about that. It was so brilliant that, if my memory serves, the man who wielded the knife received his own holiday."
She has some more of the wine before continuing. "I am not certain of the effectiveness of Lady Morilla's grand gesture. Should the Empire muster its forces, or should it rely on, as the Twins advise, the spoken word? Is it perhaps time to let Andoran take on the mantle of valiant protector? Or Cheliax? I am no strategist, thus my need to inquire."
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"It is their great weakness, sister, and why the Lady Morilla swims upriver," her brother replies slowly, his tone kept carefully neutral, "The Even-Tongued Conquest itself was as much seizing an opportunity created by Taldor's foolish military belligerence abroad as it was brilliant military and diplomatic maneuvering by then-Governor Aspix....The hostess nods before adding a comment. "Seizing an opportunity, the two of you are certainly correct about that. It was so brilliant that, if my memory serves, the man who wielded the knife received his own holiday."
She has some more of the wine before continuing. "I am not certain of the effectiveness of Lady Morilla's grand gesture. Should the Empire muster its forces, or should it rely on, as the Twins advise, the spoken word? Is it perhaps time to let Andoran take on the mantle of valiant protector? Or Cheliax? I am no strategist, thus my need to inquire."
The Grand Prince thinks for a moment, and then chuckles toward the snow princess. "I find the alternatives to our quest rather bleak, don't you? Who are the nations with the power and the resource to take up the sword? Qadira? Only a fool would put any faith into that crusade. The Qadirans are the ultimate capitalists. They value money over all else, and as soon as the financial gain ran out, Avistan would quickly find itself vulnerable. The Chelaxians? I shudder to think about a world living under their "order" and "justice," if the things I've seen and read are true. The Andorans? HAH! Those fools actually think that the uneducated rabble should govern themselves. The chaos is many orders of magnitude above worrisome.
"No, while it may be expensive, and UNDOUBTEDLY a risky maneuver, I believe our expedition to fight the abyss and bolster Mendev's forces is the right move. The consequences for taking a second seat on this, I think, are much too dire."
Stavian then directs his attention to the female twin, "I thank you for your kind greetings, my lady." Leaning in close and whispering, "I hope you are not injured." Stavian turns to the male twin, "Quite right, you are. I thank you, for I'd not want my ego inflated overmuch at this lively, and ... controversial party."
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"My lady, please forgive my dismissive treatment of you, for a moment I had been perturbed by your taunt, forgetting that this is a masquerade, and thinking your words to be honest." Stavian then returns to his light demeanor and boyish smile. "I believe your exemplary disguise and superb acting skill has outwitted me!"
The Merchant turns her attention to the Grand Prince.
"It's easy to outwit a fool like you! Hah, if you stopped convincing your nobility to pay for "public works", they could be using that money to become even richer through trade. Some of them don't even have solid gold tea sets. It is a travesty. And you would have more money too if you only invested in trade. Why not monopolize trade and then mark up the prices within Taldor by charging huge external tariffs? You would make stupendous profits off of your people. Who cares about them anyway? You are the one in charge, act like it. By the time they all go broke...give me a minute, I lost my train of thought, but I know this is a good idea, and you can trust me on that."
"See, I outwitted you again!"
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The Merchant returns to her parchment, and beings taking notes as each of you speaks. She makes no attempt to hide what she is writing--it would be more accurate to say that she is "accidentally" showing it to her fellow guests.
"Now it is time to raise our banner so that everyone will flock to it like sheep because of our inherent superiority. Once we 'prove' it,
Twins:
"Wallow in Taldor's mistakes and then talk to everyone. Convince them all of Taldor's inherent superiority. Something something diplomacy. Something something colonies. The rest is indecipherable--whoever gave the twins a thesaurus was being quite rude. The rat makes more sense."
Princess:
"Taldor is planning to import a huge shipment of printing presses from Andoran. Tell Aaqir that demand for printing presses is about to increase."
Rat:
"Muttering to himself in the corner. Seems to have a phobia of twins. Ask the twins what that is called."
Stavian:
"Last time he spoke, he said he was a fool. And now he says only a fool would trust Qadira to handle the Worldwound. So that means he thinks that Qadira should handle it. Ha, only if their is enough money in it. Some Dawnflower cultists may join. I do admire their dedication. Oh, damn, I missed the rest of the Prince's point. Well, at least I know he is relying on Qadira."
Winter Drake:
"If this drake wanted to give us a better sense of being in Taldor, he'd perform something from a Taldan opera."
She writes a few bars of music. I can't spoiler in spoiler, so I'll just say,
Perform DC 10:
It is an excerpt from a drinking song that has been popular in Taldan taverns lately.
"Work your charms on the maidens fair
who dance around the firelight
Pray your eyes aren't so liquor crossed
y'work your charms on the hounds all night"
The Masked Cat thoughtfully directs her attention from Prince Stavian, to The Merchant, and back The Prince. "It is true that the Qadirans are highly motivated by the chance to turn a profit - that's where the diplomacy part comes in. You need only point out to them that, should the demons of the Worldwound overrun the lands, the forces of evil refuse to pay full price, and they are forever breaking things and trying to return them for credit." She gives a nervous smile, as if unsure how her jest will be received.
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The Kuthona Rat finishes meandering his way through the orchestra, much to the percussionists' relief, finally making it to the far side of the room.
From there he continues circling around the circumference of the room, idly dragging his fingers along the walls' wooden embellishments while paying particular attention to any candle sconces. As he meanders along, he eventually starts rambling to himself in an almost ponderous manner:
"So, which one of these light stick holders is the lever? It's got to be one of them because this is a ballroom. Since there aren't any balls as far as I've seen... then that means they must be in one of those secret door things like in the stories. It can't be a ball room without balls. I mean it is round, sort of I guess, but it is not really all that ball shaped. But I'm not a wizard so, I can't fix that. But I am good at opening stuff, and closing stuff, and falling, and healing, and making friends, and undying people, and petting kittens..."
"But I haven't ever been all that good at finding things. I did find that hole once though. That was when I realized that I was good at falling. Thirty something feet was it? I lost count. I couldn't move my feet fast enough to measure the hole. So where is the lever to make the room not just a room anymore? Maybe I can't find it cause it is invisible. Darn they made the door invisible, and the opener too. Darn."
He stops for a moment as he stumbles over the remains of the chair. He stares for a moment as though uncomprehending before returning his attention to the wall. After several seconds he nods knowingly.
"Now this explains why I couldn't see through the invisible secret doors, they attacked this thing -whatever it was- and then they became uninvisible again. Clever doors, very clever. But now I know where you hid because you got injured during your assault I see. Now to figure out how to open you Mister Door because my Mom told me I could not bring the big box of keys."
His rambling quiets as he starts to pick at the indentations of where the chair had struck the wall.
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The Winter Drake looks down from its lofty perch and seems to eye the Merchant. The strings of the Lyre do not falter one bit, but it is clear the creature is not pleased by something which the merchant has done. With a sharp exhale the Drake blows a coating of icy ethereal snow down upon the Merchant, as before it melts before touching her.
A tiny pen seems to fly from the Drake after the display, and inks on the notes she is writing and then reviewing.
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The Merchant turns her attention to the Grand Prince.
"It's easy to outwit a fool like you! Hah, if you stopped convincing your nobility to pay for "public works", they could be using that money to become even richer through trade. Some of them don't even have solid gold tea sets. It is a travesty. And you would have more money too if you only invested in trade. Why not monopolize trade and then mark up the prices within Taldor by charging huge external tariffs? You would make stupendous profits off of your people. Who cares about them anyway? You are the one in charge, act like it. By the time they all go broke...give me a minute, I lost my train of thought, but I know this is a good idea, and you can trust me on that."
"See, I outwitted you again!"
Stavian nods to the Masked Cat, "Many of my sincerest thanks for your attempts to the lighten the mood, Lady Cat. It is good to know that I am in the blessed company of those with manners ... for the most part."
Turning to the Winter Drake and raising his glass, "Your measurement of mood and timing have only enhanced a performance that has no peer in my recent memory. Anyone who would think otherwise has no taste or decorum."
When the Grand Prince turns to the Merchant, it is with concerted effort. "My public works create plenty of trade domestically. Many craftsman were contracted to build Stavian's Hold, and in following that, many unskilled laborers were hired to do the physical work. Anyone involved with the project has more money to spend, which will bolster trade and increase raw taxes. I'm so sorry to hear that Qadira was not able to burrow in and take all of the profits from my country's improvements.
"As to the wealth of my nobility, look around, Merchant. We have no want for gold and jewels. The finest materials are all around you."
"You make interesting points about my being in charge. You are correct, madam. I am. I am the Grand Prince of Taldor. A ruler, but a steward. It is my responsibility to look after the needs of the people, for if they starve, freeze, or die of pestilence, then I should find myself without a throne of substance, or worse, without a head. I believe you stumbled upon the fatal flaw of your economics, and proved my point about the world wound excursion: 'By the time they all go broke...' If I were to bleed my countrymen dry, I would be King Nothing, for that's what Taldor would be. Nothing -- with my empty and useless ivory tower sitting on top of it. A strong nation flush with resources and currency make for a strong ruler."
"The only person you have outwitted this time, is yourself."
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The Merchant turns to the Grand Prince, and speaks in a haughty voice:
Qadira does not burrow in to countries; we are not a worm! We are a hawk, who will swoop down and peacefully deal with you, if you are fortunate enough to warrant our attention. You speak of wealth that is not gold or jewels, but is people...that sounds like some sappy moralizing story that adults tell to children, the better to shape them into gullible slaves who are easily parted with their money.
Her tone becomes petty and whiny, and she scrunches up her nose:
If you were to bleed them dry, then...fine, fine. You win this time.
Keep your shiny jewels and your shiny throne. I hope you stub your pinky toe on your bedframe. Which undoubtedly is not made of solid gold. HARRUMPH!"
With that, she gets up from the table and walks away in a huff, pausing every few steps to turn around and "harrumph" at the Grand Prince while shooting him the stinkeye.
The Snow Princess lets out an entertained laugh at the display of rivalry before her. "It appears that the concept of people as more than just sources of wealth was too much for our Qadiran friend."
The Masked Cat thoughtfully directs her attention from Prince Stavian, to The Merchant, and back The Prince. "It is true that the Qadirans are highly motivated by the chance to turn a profit - that's where the diplomacy part comes in. You need only point out to them that, should the demons of the Worldwound overrun the lands, the forces of evil refuse to pay full price, and they are forever breaking things and trying to return them for credit."
She fans herself for a moment as she considers the Masked Cat's words. "I sense that the Qadirans would only be susceptible to such an argument if they were truly the last hope for Golarion," she replies. "They would likely not lift a finger before every other nation is fully committed, even the Nidalese and Mwangi. Unless, of course, they offer to sell supplies to the front line and call that 'assistance.' The best response here is to simply ignore them, and rely on suppliers who are committed rather than merchants who are not. No blood, no profit. It is only fair, am I correct?"
Clever doors, very clever.
After a moment of prodding at the wall, that particular panel responds to the Rat's pressure, as if there may be a hidden alcove here.
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The Merchant turns to the Grand Prince, and speaks in a haughty voice:
Qadira does not burrow in to countries; we are not a worm! We are a hawk, who will swoop down and peacefully deal with you, if you are fortunate enough to warrant our attention. You speak of wealth that is not gold or jewels, but is people...that sounds like some sappy moralizing story that adults tell to children, the better to shape them into gullible slaves who are easily parted with their money.
Her tone becomes petty and whiny, and she scrunches up her nose:
If you were to bleed them dry, then...fine, fine. You win this time.
Keep your shiny jewels and your shiny throne. I hope you stub your pinky toe on your bedframe. Which undoubtedly is not made of solid gold. HARRUMPH!"With that, she gets up from the table and walks away in a huff, pausing every few steps to turn around and "harrumph" at the Grand Prince while shooting him the stinkeye.
The Grand Prince is very amused at this point, his playful tone becoming just the smallest bit mocking, "Oh come, Merchant, we are all friends here! Besides, I've only won the first round! I do so wish to see you swoop down and peacefully deal with me!"
Stavian watches her walk away, perhaps just a fraction of a moment past appropriate, but quickly collects himself, turning to the Midnight Samurai, with a chuckle, "My ... if Qadirans are this prone to giving up, perhaps I've been too timid with my military?"
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The Midnight Samurai gives a terse smile as Stavian addresses him. "Of course, my lord," he says with some effort to sound calm and collected. He bows low and excuses himself, heading towards the door with his fists clenched.
His temper grows more and more visible as he exits the hall, searching for his herald. "Stewart! Stewart! You're never around when I need you!"
Entangled in a coat closet with one of the serving girls, Stewart hears the bellowing of his master. "Oh no," he whispers under his breath. "We need to stay very quiet. Maybe he'll go away if he can't fi-"
The ill-fated herald is unceremoniously hauled out of the closet by his bombastic master.
"You wouldn't believe the sorts out there. One person is masquerading as a Qadiran serpent, would you believe? They're questioning the wisdom of Morilla's crusade! As though there were some better way to remind the world of the glory of our nation!" He makes a gesture as though this were unfathomable. "I'd sent you to scout this place out, hadn't I? To make sure they seemed the Right Sort?" A questioning eyebrow scoots out from under the facemask.
"Well, um... yes sir..."
"Well um Stewart they are most certainly not acting like the Right Sort! Where did you get the idea that this party would be filled with the high society of Taldor?" The Samurai's face grows red.
"I told you, Sir, they turned me away at the gate, saying I didn't have an invitation. I didn't see anything but a posh house," the herald says sulkily. "You started nattering about 'discernment' and then made me go buy your Tien get-up all the way cross town."
"Discernment is a fine quality in a noble house but it's not the only trait to base your judgement on, Stewart!," snaps the Samurai, clearly missing both the herald's point and veiled criticism. "Gods, this party couldn't be less patriotic if it were held by Galtans. At least the man dressed as Stavian seems to have some idea of what is to be expected from the finest of Taldor." He stares for a brooding moment at the empty glass he's been carrying for a little while.
The servant girl, finally having overcome both her momentary paralysis and state of dishabille, attempts to slip away unnoticed. "Ah, perfect," the Samurai says, catching sight of her through his own shallow introspection. "The servers in there can't keep up with me. I'll designate you to be my personal wine wench. Do it well and perhaps you'll receive a noble boon for yourself." He hands her the empty glass, tips her a roguish wink and gooses her. Both servants' faces flush red, one from anger, one from embarrassment.
"But sir, I'm a house maid...," the harassed maid begins to feebly protest, but the herald cuts her off. "Save your breath, he's really rather obstinate." Stealing a quick peck, Stewart chases after his master.
A few minutes later, the Samurai returns without the wine glass and begins to circulate around the room again. His herald has returned and stands by a side door, shifting from foot to foot impatiently.
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The Kuthona Rat fiddles with the damage panel for a while, picking out shards of wood and stone embedded in the point of impact. He then reaches into the hole and feels something metallic. Grasping it, he gets his fist stuck as he tries to pull out of the slowly widening hole.
"This is not what I thought a grapple was, I thought it was something like a green apple and people had just gotten tired of saying green. Weird. This also explains why the captain had mentioned something about wrist links when I asked him about what grapples were and what flavor they were. Grrr- ouch! My wrist is linked now. Ugh."
He scowls at the small smear of red on the edge of the hole in the wall where he chafed his wrist raw.
"This grapple doesn't taste good. It made my hand weep. How was I supposed to avoid eating grapples again? Secret password something or other. Hmm..."
He ceases his struggles as he attempts to recall the words he's supposed to recite whenever he, or one of his troops, try to eat grapples.
"Library Cookbook? Living Quarter? Libelous Comment? Oh, right. ♫∟ſß≡╔Δ♀ſ₪の €۞ɯɯΔ₪⊅♪!"
With an audible metallic "click", he finally frees his hand. As he does so, he unwittingly triggers the opener for the hidden alcove. He peers inside as his wrist heals itself.
Nearly right behind the Samurai comes one of the house staff, dressed in a white sheer gossamer costume akin to that of a faerie. She seems to almost tiptoe over to the Samurai in order to hand him a full wine glass.
As she steps away, she spots the Kuthona Rat, and walks over to the now-opened secret panel, wondering what the Rat has discovered. Beyond the panel is a small shelf. The shelf is empty, but there is a faint lingering smell; discerning noses may detect that some sort of rice wine was once stored here.
Stavian watches her walk away, perhaps just a fraction of a moment past appropriate, but quickly collects himself, turning to the Midnight Samurai, with a chuckle, "My ... if Qadirans are this prone to giving up, perhaps I've been too timid with my military?"
The hostess lets out a gentle laugh. "Though the scene is humorous, it leads me to consider a question. If Taldor were to commit its military to the Worldwound, would that not leave the south open to a Qadiran invasion?" she wonders. "How can we both be fully committed to the northern conflict while guaranteeing that the south will be unmolested?"
She turns to the Midnight Samurai after he re-enters. "Noble protector of lord and land, what would be your response to this dilemma?" she asks.
The servant, unsure of whether her behavior is entirely appropriate, approaches the Kuthona Rat as he peers inside the hostess's wall.
"Sir," she delicately says to him. "...What are you doing there?"
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The Kuthona Rat peers curiously into the alcove before beginning to crouch within and start feeling around the inside for anything of interest.
The Winter Faerie's question comes about a minute into the Rat's search. He answers slowly as he continues his search.
"I'm looking at this secret passage I found and I am trying to find the second secret door. That is because you see, the first one doesn't seem to go anywhere. It only goed into a spot that smells like the sucky water that mom said dad drank when they first met. I've got to be careful though. The first door tried to bite me, but it didn't do very well. Hopefully, this one doesn't bite too."
He finally looks back at the servant,
and is wholly convinced by her costume.
"Oh, I'm sorry Miss Faeriefolk. Is this yours? If it is, then I'm sorry, I did not mean to trespass. Could you tell me where this way goes though? I won't tell anyone and I'll be sure to keep it a secret if you want me to. I'm good at keeping secrets, usually because I forget them and then don't talk about them and then forget them. Why does it smell like sucky water in there though? Is it because it goes to your secret garden glen place? If it does, then can I see it?"
His rapid string of questions finally slows as he realizes he hasn't given you time for a response. Nonetheless, his opportunity of getting to meet a Fae has his rapt, eager attention.
The Masked Cat tries to move quietly to a spot where she can observe The Kuthona Rat, and the secret alcove he has found. When The Winter Drake tries to influence The Rat, she watches them both carefully to see the effect.
The servant seems surprised when she peers inside the newly-revealed secret place. "It's not mine, that's for sure..." she says, while examining it with wide-eyed curiosity. "I've never seen this before."
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The Kuthona Rat moves to further his investigation, but stops suddenly as the Winter Drake's beginning chords catch his ear. "I know this song, they used to play it whenever mom performed on stage at the soup store," he says as he stands and begins to hastily make his way back to the tables near the orchestra where he takes a seat at the closest one to the performer.
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From the corner of the room, the Merchant casts the same spell several times in a row.
Once she has finished, the Merchant approaches the Dark Lady. She bows, then addresses her.
"Excuse me, my lady, but I couldn't help but notice your strikingly beautiful features. Why, the jewels that adorn you must be worth tens of thousands of gold pieces. You are fortunate that today, I have brought with me some of my most exquisite pieces, for your pleasure."
The merchant pulls out a "gold and sapphire" tiara, and a matching pair of earrings. The "sapphires" are a dull, opaque blue, and the "gold" is a sickly yellow. They look more like children's toys than costume jewelry.
*The Dark Lady scoffs at these treasures.*
"How dare you attempt to deceive us with your petty parlor tricks? This is worse than the time Karzoug tried to pay his share of the reparations to Bakrakhan with crystalline vessels conjured through major creation and a variety of expensive jewelry made out of failed servants via polymorph any object."
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The hostess lets out a gentle laugh. "Though the scene is humorous, it leads me to consider a question. If Taldor were to commit its military to the Worldwound, would that not leave the south open to a Qadiran invasion?" she wonders. "How can we both be fully committed to the northern conflict while guaranteeing that the south will be unmolested?"
She turns to the Midnight Samurai after he re-enters. "Noble protector of lord and land, what would be your response to this dilemma?" she asks.
The Samurai furrows his brow at the question. "Why, none." He looks a trifle confused. "Should we march through the heart of the Worldwound and destroy it on our way to the dwarf castle that the Society seeks there, our names and the names of our allies will be those of living legends. I doubt that even the most craven jackal-jumping satrap would lead an attack against us, especially when the other nations of the Inner Sea look upon us with such honor. Any attacker must ask himself whether he can match the fury of the Abyss... and I'm sure they will recognize themselves as wanting in that regard."
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*The Dark Lady scoffs at these treasures.*
"How dare you attempt to deceive us with your petty parlor tricks? This is worse than the time Karzoug tried to pay his share of the reparations to Bakrakhan with crystalline vessels conjured through major creation and a variety of expensive jewelry made out of failed servants via polymorph any object."
The female Twin titters a bit as the Dark Lady speaks. "Jewelry made out of failed servants? For amusement's sake alone, that should be worth something." Her brother stiffens, appearing less than amused, but is quickly distracted by the Midnight Samurai's assessment of the Worldwound.
"Have you ever seen the Worldwound? Fought a true demon? A real one, not one of the yipping hounds that some petty conjurors believe they control. We have. We have seen entire commands slaughtered without so much as a word; simply a look, then death."
His sister, finally having recovered from her amusement at earring servants, manages to control her voice long enough to continue her twin's comments.
"Indeed. A unit drained of water, reduced to armor and dust. Soldiers flailing uselessly up at a giant beast, their weapons unable to penetrate its tough hide while it sweeps them aside with but a word. These aren't even the most foul of the creatures; merely the ones we have seen."
As his twin appears ready to ramble further on the finer points of demonology, the male Twin interjects, "No army alone can overcome the Pit, not even Taldor's. Should you throw your armies at the Worldwound, should you march singing to your doom, no Satrap worth his or her title would dare not invade Taldor; there would be no army left to protect her."
The female Twin picks up the argument again. "Thus we say again, send not your armies into the Rift. Taldor can be a mighty power broker again, but better that others do the lifting. Andoran eyes are turned ever south to Cheliax, blinded to their motherland. Molthune, Nirmathas, and the shattered remains of Isger fear the infernal lash and clamor for a protector. Lastwall, Ustalav, and Mendev are full of crusaders ready to die on a demon's spear. The armies of Avistan are ready to march, awaiting only a command. Taldor's voice can be the one to order them all to war, saving her own soldiers for what comes after."
The hostess considers both the Samurai's and the Twin's points for a moment. "It appears," she responds, gently waving her white ladies' fan as she speaks, "that the fundamental problem is one of victory. If Taldor emerges victorious from the Worldwound, then there are many benefits to success. If Taldor is defeated, then we will likely be invaded by a Satrap."
She seems to search for a solution. "The benefits of success are uncertain, while the costs of failure are real. That is a powerful reason for Taldor to hold back. If only there were tangible benefits to be realized, or if there were a way to guarantee a lower cost. If Qadira were to participate alongside the Empire, or if Qadira were to be meaningfully punished for not participating, that would be lovely. Perhaps the Society could assist in this regard?"
The Masked Cat seems intrigued by the idea of cooperation between Taldor and Qadira, and breaks from her character as she replies to The Snow Princess. "Could we not reach out to the Qadiran Pathfinders? I know I've had to work with them in the field. They've saved my life a couple of times, I've saved some of theirs. If you've got that bond of past cooperation, then they're less likely to come on with the attitude of I hate Taldor because my family back twenty generations has always hated Taldor. I know it makes me re-think my attitude, knowing that there's some decent Qadirans, who have bailed me out of trouble."
"I don't think, if push came to shove, the Pathfinder Society could hold back the entire Satrapy, but it's a good place to start talking about cooperation. It's right there in the motto, and there's some that take it seriously, even amongst the Qadirans."
She adds quietly, presumably speaking to herself, "Oh, who would have guessed that I'd be involved in this sort of discussion when I first walked into the Grand Lodge?"
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The merchant recoils from the Dark Lady's fury, and runs to hide behind the masked cat. She takes a deep breath, and begins to speak.
"My lady feline, I believe I heard you mention the Society's spirit of cooperation, and how it may influence my Qadiran fellows. It is of course true that my people work together with others in the Society, in the spirit of mutual gain. However, our illustrious empire is a far grander being than any one individual, and therefore requires a far grander incentive in order to act. You must simply ask yourself one question:
What can Taldor, or others, offer to Qadira, and the Padishah empire as a whole, to make further involvement profitable? Supplying arms to the front lines of a war that drags on is a steady source of profit. But troops? Armies cost time and money to train, and a soldier who dies can no longer generate a profit of any kind. Perhaps an appeal to faith in the destructive flames of the Sun would gain traction."
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The Samurai slowly clenches and unclenches his fist, restraining his emotions. "To send an army of vassals without the proper support is folly, yes," he says almost calmly, though a quiver of anger remains in his voice. "That would be like scheduling a new recruit's Confirmation inside Jormundun. What our princess proposes and intends is a joint effort, drawn from those who still possess some noble spine within their backs, from those who wish to be a part of the most heroic endeavor since The Shining Crusade beat back the Whispering Tyrant. We don't want soldiers en masse - we seek heroes, the sort that can stare down one of your demons and drown out their deadly words with their battle cries. We would guard against the Southern Empire? Fine - leave our guards. While you would stand behind the lines and bark orders, those of us who recall what heroes the Empire had shall remind the others of what it takes to defeat a foe as deadly as the Abyss - strength and the power of will to wield it."
He gives a contemptuous laugh at the merchant's line of reasoning. "Perhaps you would do good to remember what your profits cannot buy rather than be concerned by how to achieve those profits. Many was a kingdom that sat upon a gilded throne that is now buried deep in the tombs we plumb, and few are the heroes mighty enough that we remember their names as ages go on. And if we, the best and boldest that the Age of Lost Omens have to offer, fall in the Worldwound, do you truly believe that your riches will dissuade the demons?" The Samurai shakes his head. "If the Abyss possesses all the power our twins fear, then our only recourse is the combined might of our Sociey and allies, led by those of us with the might to do so. And who better than those in this very room?"
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The Samurai slowly clenches and unclenches his fist, restraining his emotions. "To send an army of vassals without the proper support is folly, yes," he says almost calmly, though a quiver of anger remains in his voice. "That would be like scheduling a new recruit's Confirmation inside Jormundun. What our princess proposes and intends is a joint effort, drawn from those who still possess some noble spine within their backs, from those who wish to be a part of the most heroic endeavor since The Shining Crusade beat back the Whispering Tyrant. We don't want soldiers en masse - we seek heroes, the sort that can stare down one of your demons and drown out their deadly words with their battle cries. We would guard against the Southern Empire? Fine - leave our guards. While you would stand behind the lines and bark orders, those of us who recall what heroes the Empire had shall remind the others of what it takes to defeat a foe as deadly as the Abyss - strength and the power of will to wield it."
The male Twin cocks his head to the Midnight Samurai, his once flat voice rising heatedly as he speaks. "Are you mad, or merely drunk? This is no rally before the masses; there are no gullible fools here. Your words are empty and meaningless. The Shining Crusade was a war, and several armies were required to fight it. So too were the crusades that held the Worldwound in check. A half-dozen grave robbers won't close the Worldwound; that nonsense is the stuff of campfire tales. Closing the Worldwound will require an army," he continues, gesturing expansively with one arm, "One larger than any single nation can field, and most of those who march will die abroad. Drunkenly invoking mythic heroes to be your salvation is sheer lunacy and unbecoming of a leader." As he speaks the robed and masked man quivers with some restrained emotion.
Meanwhile, his female counterpart has become distracted by the antics of the Kuthroda Rat, so enraptured by his efforts at investigating the wall that she has failed entirely to mask her interest. Her partner's rising voice and gestures catch her attention, though, and she turns to lay a hand on his shoulder, leaning close to whisper in his ear.
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The male Twin cocks his head to the Midnight Samurai, his once flat voice rising heatedly as he speaks. "Are you mad, or merely drunk? This is no rally before the masses; there are no gullible fools here. Your words are empty and meaningless. The Shining Crusade was a war, and several armies were required to fight it. So too were the crusades that held the Worldwound in check. A half-dozen grave robbers won't close the Worldwound; that nonsense is the stuff of campfire tales. Closing the Worldwound will require an army," he continues, gesturing expansively with one arm, "One larger than any single nation can field, and most of those who march will die abroad. Drunkenly invoking mythic heroes to be your salvation is sheer lunacy and unbecoming of a leader." As he speaks the robed and masked man quivers with some restrained emotion.
Meanwhile, his female counterpart has become distracted by the antics of the Kuthroda Rat, so enraptured by his...
The Prince looks amused at both the inspirational chest beating of the the Samurai, and the now hotly perturbed Chelaxian twin. "I suppose now, that the most interesting questions from your argument remain." Stavian takes a long gulp of wine, wipes his face daintily, as his royal station requires, and continues. "How large a force could the Pathfinders field? And, if asked or negotiated with, would they field it? I, and I'm sure many of you, might find that since the society has agents from across the inner sea, their example might spur or inspire their member nations to action. Prestige and glory should also be considered as valuable commodities to any nation looking to wield the most influence. I'm sure there is a great deal of prestige and glory to be had in winning a war on the Abyssal invasion."
Closing the Worldwound will require an army," he (the male twin) continues, gesturing expansively with one arm, "One larger than any single nation can field, and most of those who march will die abroad. Drunkenly invoking mythic heroes to be your salvation is sheer lunacy and unbecoming of a leader."
The Masked Cat continues to speak out of character, "You are absolutely right! This task requires an army, and many will die in the fighting. However, you are not likely to get many recruits, from any nation, if you ask who wants to march to almost certain death. The common soldier needs an inspiration. Tell the men it is dangerous, and they may die, but there's a chance that they might achieve something glorious. They might be the next Midnight Samurai!"
After pausing briefly for emphasis, she continues, "And if we can convince some of our Qadiran brethren from the Society that this is a worthy cause, then they might serve as a similar inspiration to their people. There will be some cold calculators, who will not move unless their profit is sure, but there will be others who are motivated to follow their heroes. If the example of Trade Prince Melchior of Katheer, who slew a demon in Sarenrae's name, inspires a troop of Kellish soldier's to march bravely towards the battle, then that is a success.
"In order to properly put this plan into action, we need two things. First, the doers of great deeds - the best and bravest Taldoran Pathfinders must be seen in action, winning battles and leading by example. We must also give our fellow Pathfinders, from across Golarion, a chance to showcase their own particular talents. Second, the spreaders of tales - we must make sure that these heroes are known far and wide. If you wish to portray Taldor in the best light, tell of them leading the charge, but let each land hear of its own heroes contributing to the fight. Though I have the visage of a tigress, I am not a strong warrior, but I can spread the tales of those who are. And if I might embellish the story just a little, I am not writing a history text, but trying to inspire the multitudes to face a grave threat.". The Cat pauses for breath, considering that she might have said as much in one outburst than she has said up to this point at the party.
"That sounds like a wonderful idea," the Snow Princess speaks in reply. "However, simply spreading reputations, as effective as it can be, does have a limit. A good reputation will not exactly speed any army's progress across the hostile territories between Taldor and Mendev. We would need something more tangible to assist this army as well." She seems to think for a moment, the gentle waving of her fan adding to the sight.
"Oh, yes," she resumes, having found the idea she was looking for. "The Pathfinders make heavy use of the Hao Jin Tapestry to move themselves back and forth from Absalom. It could be used to move this army as well! That would greatly reduce the provisions required to support this army on its way to the Worldwound, as well as make supplying them with arms simple as well!"
The Princess smiles. "And if there are any problems at our southern border, the Qadirans would know that our army could be upon them within hours. Between the good reputation the Masked Cat wishes to promote and the Hao Jin Tapestry, our chances are greatly improved. The Society wants to solve the matter of the Worldwound, so they would be glad to make use of the Tapestry to that end, I would assume?"
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The Samurai wears a somewhat smug grin as the party conversation turns in his favor. The flattery of the Cat makes his chest puff up even more, against the odds of possibility. His grin splits into a full smile at the Snow Princess' suggestion. "What fine tactical acumen," he says, giving the Princess an approving nod before turning back to the assembled guests. "The best the Society has to offer in wits, the best Taldor has of generous hosting, and the best Avistan has in beauty - To the Snow Princess!" He raises a glass high in toast. "I'm certain that the Decemvirate themselves would have no choice acquiesce to such a fine idea coming from the mind of such a fine Pathfinder."