The Playground: Whispers of Taelarys IC

[DJDeMiko]

3rd of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
Noon
Lord's Arena - Jameson's Office
Jameson

Jameson shook hands with Mikado and bade him goodbye. As the door shut his smile went from polite friendship to one of thoughtful concern. He waited a few minutes to ensure the man was out of the office and called Ms. Twill in . . . . .


*see backwards a few posts for his reaction*

4th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
Noon
Lord's Arena - Jameson's Office
Jameson

Jameson drums his fingers on the desk for a few moments looking this strange woman in the eyes . . . yes he thought, woman was more accurate, not a child despite her body and apparent age.

He allowed his face to take on a trusting look, one he would use for a friend that he wanted to help. Allright, he said, I will offer you information on a case by case basis. You can repay me by working odd jobs and with whatever information you might have that I would be interesting. We will negotiate rates each time. However, do not expect all that you seek at once, I would like to work with you first, but I want to make sure there is something in it for me.

Before giving her a chance to reply, Jameson flipped a small switch on the side of his desk and the door to his office opened almost immediately as two guards attempted to push through together.

Jameson raises his hand Men, it is fine, please I just wanted Ms. Twill. Ask her to bring in the file marked os1b

Ms. Twill popped in a moment later with a few sheets of parchment and Jameson waved them all back out.

He places the parchment on the desk in between himself and the young woman.

This is every publicly known member of Ostrim, guard, employee or slave and their current residence. As I said, public, all of this information you could find yourself, but it would take you weeks if not months to learn it all. It is our starting point, tell me what you will and we will decide a price for you to work off. He allows his voice to grow darker for a moment as he finishes but mark me girl, if you are thinking to play with me . . . . He trailed off and looked to her response.

OOC

Spoiler

Show

She and I are talking about this deal behind the scenes, so no rolling needed unless she wants to challenge him.

[Swordslinger]

5th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
Morning
Darran Manor
Amandre NIghtheaven

Amandre stood motionless next to the door leading to the office of the head of House Darran “…cargo…new markets… Ikoku” a heated conversation was going on inside and a word here and there slipped through the door. The door was open and a man in his 30s wearing very nice but casual clothing left, he stopped, turned his head and looked at Amandre with contempt. “Ah, my father’s dog. He wants to see you. I hear you finally sorted out that little thief issue, took you long enough” as Amandre walked past the man he offered a simple polite greeting “My Lord” but did not else respond to his taunts. The man looked annoyed for a brief moment before he walked off. Banyn d’Darran had been the head of the house for the last 30 years ever since the last one; Banyn’s father had been executed for participating in the Crimson Coup. Banyn was writing something and barely glanced up at him as Amandre walked up to the desk. “There is a Ikoku ship down in the harbor, go down there and scout it out, you might have to get on board later. Here is the location.” Banyn stopped writing long enough to pass Amandre a paper note; Amandre looked at it for a moment before placing it down at the desk. “You will know which ship it is when you see it… now off you go” Amandre nodded “Yes, my Lord” and walked out of the office.

[Nefarion Xid]

4th of Bargenholt, Near Sundown, Fortress of the Rose
The Foyer: Claye and Anselme

Anselme lowers his eye, apparently recalling the events that had led him to be tossed into the river. "One presumes I was pushed. My memory isn't as... secure as I should like. Perhaps I hit my head. All the same, the old faculties are still... faculting." He gave the briefest of smiles, which is as much to say that he hoped you'd pardon the neologism.

Catching on to the game, he added, "You heard about me drifting down the... ah. Mmm... well these things do happen. Don't tell me you've never been unceremoniously tossed off of something? You mean to say it's not some sort of local greeting?"

He smiled against to himself, as if bemused by his own antics or else his ludicrous predicament. "I do a great many things, Miss. Kilnmyr. I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific."

One could nearly hear the gears rattling away in his brain while he processed the name Kilnmyr. He was, perhaps, too polite to inquire further about the name, if it proved familiar. Conjecturing that your ancestor had sold his soul wasn't the stuff of polite conversation, certainly.

[the_druid_droid]

6th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
Noon
House Levant
Tarin

Tarin sat at his desk, a tight rictus that could just pass for a polite smile locked on his face. He had been sitting at the desk, wearing the same expression for almost an hour as Jareth Falan ir Levant, a relatively low-ranking Sorcerer of the House, had complained to him about his recent brush with death.

Apparently, the man had been ambushed in the early morning, and an arrow bearing the familiar message of the Bronze Crusader had lodged itself in his chest during a brief long-range scuffle. Despite the wound, Jareth had managed to make it to Levant’s hospital, and as soon as the last healing spell had been cast and he’d recovered enough to walk, the Sorcerer had sought out the Inquisition.

“...any further to the left and it would’ve gone straight through my heart!” At the exclamation, Tarin found himself lamenting the Bronze Crusader’s lapse in accuracy. Jareth Falan had provided no useful information regarding the Crusader, who’d attacked from hiding before darting away, and instead had chosen to waste the Inquisitor’s valuable time with a rambling, barely-cogent critique of the Inquisition’s methods and the current state of Taelaryian society as a whole.

At last, as the hands of the antique clock in Tarin’s office swept toward noon, the Sorcerer began to wrap up his monologue, and Tarin was quick to reassure his guest that all necessary steps would be taken to bring the mysterious Crusader to justice. At that moment, the Inquisitor would have said almost anything to hasten Jareth’s departure, but reassurances seemed the least likely to lead to further complaining. When the Sorcerer stood to leave, Tarin was perhaps too quick in rising to see him out, but once he had, the gray-haired Grand Inquisitor breathed a long sigh of relief.

On days like these, he really hated being an administrator.

7th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
Afternoon
House Levant
Tarin

When Tarin returned to his office after attending to his official business for the day, he had been surprised to see a cream-white envelope lying on his desk. Picking it up, the Grand Inquisitor saw that his name was written on one side in a flowing script, while the other side bore the familiar seal of House d’Milverton.

Opening the letter, Tarin was slightly relieved to see that it contained only an invitation. As he read through the formally-worded document, a small laugh escaped his lips; Davis d’Lupil, the man he’d interrogated only the day before, had been sentenced already, and Jameson had won the contract to showcase his execution. The Inquisitor strongly suspected that Jameson had also been the one to notify the authorities of the nobleman’s crimes in the first place, and he might even have been the one to suggest House Levant as a means of obtaining a confession.

In any case, Davis’ trial by combat promised to provide an excellent spectacle, and Tarin quickly composed his RSVP. He couldn’t miss the opportunity to give Davis one last smug smile and wave as he was marched out into the arena, after all.

[TheDarkDM]

4th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
Early Afternoon
The Indigo

As they entered the carriage, Ghedim helped Claye aboard before slouching into one of the overstuffed leather seats. Reaching into a black felt pouch, he pulled out a pinch of dried flowers, so deeply blue they were almost black. Tapping the ashes in his pipe out the window, he refilled it with the flowers, lighting them in a sulfurous flare of green flame. Drawing in a deep breath, he blew out a blue cloud before responding to Claye's question.

"I hope you don't mind if I smoke? To answer your question, I've been in Taelarys for three years now. You might think me young to be acting as a diplomat, but my predecessor suffered an unfortunate accident while visiting home, and most of our elder statesmen were involved in delicate matters at home, so I was given the honor. I find Taelarys a fascinating city, so full of life in one instant, so hostile and cold the next. But I'm far more interested in your view of the city, Madame Kilnmyr. Your ancestry makes you a native of the city, yet you have spent so much time abroad I can only imagine your own opinions of Taelarys to be much more complex than mine."

Ghedim continued to speak of Taelarys and lands abroad until they'd left Exentia street and had entered the Vale. Turning down a shadowy side street, the carriage clattered over the cobbles before finally stopping in an alley that allowed in only the faintest traces of the midday sunlight. As Ghedim helped Claye down from the carriage, she saw an intricately carved door recessed in the side of one of the buildings, the words "The Indigo" embossed across it in mother of pearl. Ghedim knocked on the door, and it immediately swung open with a whisper, revealing a diaphanous curtain of perfumed silk within. Pushing it aside, Ghedim led Claye into a small, smoky waiting room where a half-dozen people were lounging on satin setees. Their dress and demeanor marked them as nobles, and though they spared Claye a sideways glance they quickly returned to their whispered conversations. Ghedim spared a moment to breathe deeply of the perfumed air before coughing.

"Excuse me, may we have a table?"

Immediately, a woman appeared from what must have been a secret door in a swirl of silk. Her dress was several steps south of scandalous for Taelarys, but Claye recognized it as fairly typical of Rhetizian high society. A luminescent smile was on her lips, and she and Ghedim shared an oddly familiar glance.

"Ah, Ghedim! How good of you to come back to us. And with a lady, no less. Would you like your usual table?"

"If you please, Arienne. And with a bottle of honey wine, if you please."

"Of course, sir. Would you expect anything less?"

With a chuckle and a shake of his head, Ghedim extended a hand to Claye and led her through another silken curtain, through yet another secret door into what appeared to be the main dining area. Circular tables bordered a rectangular hardwood dance floor, while a grand staircase led to a balcony that circled the entire room. Ghedim led Claye up that staircase, through a final set of curtains, behind which waited a circular table of black lacquer, a pair of chairs, and a bottle of amber honey wine chilling in a bucket. Ghedim pulled out a chair for Claye before taking his own seat and pulling a menu out from a clever slit in the table.

"So, Madame Kilnmyr, what is your pleasure?"

Story Element 5/7

Spoiler

Show

The Indigo

[Kasanip]

5th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
Noon
Lord's Arena - Jameson's Office
Eris

Eris paused to consider Jameson's proposal, and accepted. She froze a moment as the guards entered. For one moment, she thought he had betrayed her, but relaxed and smoothed her hair as Ms. Twill entered.

When Jameson put the document on the table, Eris stared at it intensely. This was the start. It was so close, and only the beginning. She had to be patient. She had to be smart. Eris struggled to look at Jameson again. But he knew.

And with this, she had her own bargain to uphold. So Eris stood up, and bowed, touching her palm and fist together as a symbol of humility. For Jameson, he might know it as a Sorcerer's sign, though her style looked different than the current one.

"Thank you." She said first. "I am certain it will be profitable for you and me.

The first information I offer then, is this. Your list is incomplete. My name is Eris ir Ostrim. Of proof of my heritage, I will show you this."

She paused to adjust her belt and clothes, and turned around to show her back to Jameson. She hesitated, and then pulled the strings open, to show her back. There on her shoulder blade, there was a faint scar shaped like the seal of Ostrim. She spoke while allowing Jameson to study the seal.
"Perhaps you know of the bond-mates of sorcerers. This is the proof I am of House Ostrim. This was the mark of my bond, though it is faded and scarred from burning. That is because I was separated from my bond-mate, and there is only one way to do that."
She fixed her clothes and returned to stand and face Jameson again.
"There are reasons of course, and they involve a long story. But I will tell that story also, in exchange for more information."
A faint smile came to her face as she bowed again.
"If you would, please call me Eris. I suppose the servant girls have no last names here, and that is acceptable to me. I'll do what work you ask of me without complaint, I promise. Don't worry, you have purchased the best servant you could have." She suppressed a laugh and showed a coy smile.
"And...what should I call you? Do you prefer Sir, My Lord, Master, or something else?"

[Mono Vertigo]

5th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
Late Morning
Exentia Street, The White Goblet
Eiko

Some people loved punctuality. Eiko wasn't one of these people. Some others were fashionably early to meetings. She wasn't such a person either, she was more of a drunkenly early kind of woman.
As could be attested from the two empty bottles on her table near the front door.
At irregular intervals in her soft haze, she would turn her head in direction of the door, wondering what kind of man would want to meet her, a complete stranger. Such a man might not exist. At any rate, she ensured that if he would not come at the White Goblet, her time would not have been completely wasted, thanks to the company of almost-decently-priced beer.

[DJDeMiko]

5th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
Noon
Lord's Arena - Jameson's Office
Jameson

Jameson kept his face from showing any of his surprise. The claim Eris was making was bizarre at best . . . but if true could mean some very interesting things.

Jameson, face still hiding, Sir or Lord d'Milverton would be best in public. For now you may call me Jameson in private. The claim you are making is a very dangerous one . . . but I think you know that. Please do tell me more.

[Jade_Tarem]

4th of Bargenholt, The Indigo, Early Afternoon
Claye and Ghedim

Claye was, financially, more secure than she'd ever been in her life, and still couldn't afford to come here on her own. It would suffice to say that she had never been in such a fancy establishment before, with the exception of dashing through one in the city of Alashire while evading pursuit.

Fortunately, she can at least read the menu, but having never had any of the dishes before, chooses completely at random. After making her selection, she thinks back to Ghedim's question. He had made a fair point - she had been all over, and she had spent enough time listening to Mistress Pathric that she had a fair overview of the city's problems.

"My opinion on the empire?" Claye echoes. An objective observer might note that her diction was cleaner in Ghedim's language than hers. "Well, there's no objective measurement for the quality of a nation. They can only be judged by comparing them to other nations." She hesitates, then decides to go for it. "So I'll start with Rhetiz. In Rhetiz, you've got a curious dynamic going. It's the only nation I've been to where the nobles are in more danger than the commoners - yes, I know about the Shadow War. I don't know who did what and when, but I do know that it exists." Claye shakes her head and gets back on topic. "So you've got this nation known for the skill of its politicians and the skill of its assassins, and the two keep one another in check - except the twist is that the politicians and the assassins are the same people."

"And then there's everyone else. Oh sure, there are other class divisions, but the nobles provide all of them with the bare minimum necessary to keep people happy - prosperity and stability. Everyone knows about the shadow war, even if no one talks about it, and they know why and how the crime rates are so low. On top of that, as long as you stay out of trouble and work hard, you can get rewarded for that. There are poor and homeless - there's always poor and homeless, but they've still got a chance to move into the commoner group. The citizens are kept under control with contentment - even if it's achieved by knifing people on rooftops - and hope, coupled with beatings for those who break the law."

"Then we come back to Taelar. On the surface, it looks like it's superior to Rhetiz in every way. It has a bigger army, greater access to and control of magical talent, more land, more money, no official shadow war, a genuinely divine bloodline on the throne, and a higher basic level of technology." Claye's eyes narrow. "But any machinist will tell you that having more of everything doesn't mean you've built a superior product - it has to be balanced, and it has to be able to support its own weight. Taelar isn't in balance, and sooner or later it won't be able to support itself."

She begins listing points off on her fingers. "I don't want to sound like a pretentious accountant, but the distribution of wealth in Taelar is... insane. To say that the lion's share goes to the upper crust is understating it by half. Plus, there's not necessarily any hope for those at the bottom of society here. So on the one hand you've got children in the slums who have worked every day from age four, and you've got nobles over the age of thirty who haven't worked a day in their lives. Hope, contentment, prosperity, are not offered to the people of Taelarys - only the beatings. All they have is stability, but that means that anything that disrupts that stability has twice the impact that it would in, say, Rhetiz. And the stability is half illusion anyway, since the crime rate is much higher. The typical noble lifestyle doesn't help." Claye gestures around the Indigo. "But Rhetiz can get away with it. See, the commoners in Rhetiz know that the nobles do pay a price for the lifestyle - while they get to have fancy meals and clothes, they also have to live with poison and snipers. It means that they're not superior to the commoners in every way, and you'd better believe that it helps. To give another example, out in Lodaria, the nobles frequently partner up with dragons - and that's the core of their defense force! The nobility does a disproportionate amount of the fighting, and sure, they're better equipped for it than any commoner would be, but it's still their blood being spilled. Plus, punishments for criminal activities are twice as bad for nobles as for everyone else. The Lodarians love it. Here? There's no such thing. The nobility puts up a facade of perfection, and that gets old quick."

"Speaking of nobles, they may not have a shadow war, but they do plot and scheme and die - just less efficiently. They have magic, but the magic is fading as the iron grip of the four houses chokes it out. They have technology, but the technology is regulated by the nobles that are afraid of it, and it isn't available universally in any case. They have a huge army, but the army is funded by money that could better be spent elsewhere. They have big tracts of land, but the land has to be defended, which means a bigger army and more money spent on maintaining it. And while the Imperial Bloodline may be divine, it's not as divine as it used to be." She talks a bit faster, now that she has a rhythm going. "Saying that is a crime, of course, as is trying to alter the system in any way, or breaking free of your current status without the approval of someone in power. Are you a sorcerer? Better join one of the Four Houses quick. Are you a slave? You'll always be a slave, barring impossibly good luck. Are you a commoner with a job? Hang on to that job, and hope that you can keep up with taxes and tolerate being spat on by the nobles. Are you a commoner without a job? Now you're a slave, congratulations!"

Claye takes a deep breath. "So while in a place like Rhetiz, or Lodaria, or many other places, you can improve your station with enough hard work and planning, here there are only four ways to beat the system - become an artisan of some kind, become a servant - which is like a slave but with slightly more dignity, become a criminal, or die. And all of those problems are getting worse, not better. So the short version of my 'opinion' on Taelar is that it's collapsing under its own weight. It may not happen tomorrow. It may not happen in my lifetime, but if something fundamental doesn't change, the end is coming." She blinks. "You're a pretty good listener, you know that? But you're the ambassador - what do *you* think of Taelar?"

4th of Bargenholt, Sundown, Fortress of the Rose
Claye and Anselme

When Anselme makes his comment about being thrown off of things, Claye laughs. "More times than I'd care t' admit."

When he's done, Claye shrugs. "Ah was makin' conversation." If he doesn't offer anything else, Claye eventually asks, "So what's a nice facultin' man like you want with the Blue Lions?"

5th of Bargenholt, Claye-Potts Machinery, Noon
Claye, Potts, and Kyranis

Claye pops out of the back. "Ah'm here! What can Ah do for yeh?"

[Lady Serpentine]

5th of Bargenholt, Claye-Potts Machinery, Noon
Claye, Potts, and Kyranis

Kyranis looks up from the machinery he was examining.


"I came to inquire about the price of a mechanical guardian, if you sell such things."

[Xondoure]

4th of Bargenholt
Dawn
Tower of Tramontae

“You will infiltrate the sorcerous houses and report all relevant information to me. That is any information that could affect house Tramontae or weaken the position of the other sorcerous houses. You will do this silently and without attention, along with any and all other tasks I set to you.”

Malharus’ eyes seemed to bore their way through the boy and into the creature within.

“Is that understood?”

“Yes.”

“Since the death of their Arch Magister house Ostrim has begun to cave upon itself, fighting amongst themselves like dogs fighting over scraps, do not concern yourself heavily with their affairs.
House Ponentir is starting to gain power once more, however there is a man among them Michael Nicephorus ir Ponentir son of the former Arch Magister. He is a brat by all accounts, but one who has grown up nursing his families’ wounds. You will aid his cause, for the more the house can be divided the easier it will be to ignore it.
The real threat is house Levant. Their grand inquisitor Tarin Ardalion is a dangerous man and underneath him the inquisitors of Levant have become a powerful and far reaching force. You will watch him closely for anything he knows that we do not is a blow we can barely afford.”

The watcher understood, and the boy obeyed.

“Yes.”

“Your duty is not over outside of the sorcerous houses, the Bronze Crusader threatens the stability of the upperclass and seems to have a greater agenda against the sorcerous houses. Direct his efforts against the other houses if you can, reveal him if you cannot.
Lastly a ship has arrived from Ikoku. A dangerous journey for a small trading vessel, and only worth making if the cargo was of significant value. The cargo, or the passengers that is. And if the rumors are true hidden pockets may hold bliss, a valuable resource if trade were to become more permanent, the man that controlled such a trade would have great power at greater risk, unless he were to seek protection. You will discover this foreign vessel's secrets and report them to me.”

“Yes.”

“As it should be. You will report to me upon the closing of each day when summoned, and will return at any time should information be too important or too time dependent to waste.”

“Yes.”

Malharus smiled the same cold smile that never reached his eyes.

“Yes indeed.”

[Kasanip]

5th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
Noon
Lord's Arena - Jameson's Office
Eris

Eris nodded, her smile still on her face. She looked at Jameson carefully, though now hiding behind her smile, there was admiration.

He is not surprised, or does not show it. I must be very careful in this place. Maybe he is trying to make me worry my information is not valuable enough. She thought. But she knew it was.

"I understand, Jameson." Her smile became a serious one and she crossed her arms.
"I understand danger. I also know that I need time to study the information you are giving me. You will learn the full story before the end of our deal."
Her smile returned.
"But it is lunchtime, and I am sure there are other things you must concern yourself with."
She stood and stretched, and then turned it into a polite bow.
"If you would just direct me to a place I can stay, or whomever I shall report to for work, I will go. I am sure you can send for me when it is next convenient to continue our work.

Or shall I bring you lunch?" She asked.

[TheDarkDM]

4th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
Early Afternoon
The Indigo

Seeing Claye considering the menu, Ghedim noticed her look of consternation. Clearing his throat, he leaned forwards slightly.

"Might I suggest the Ortolan? This time of year, they should just be coming into prime season."

Then, he sat back as Claye launched into her analysis of Taelarys. Leaning back into his seat, he swirled his wine glass, the liquid taking on the same hue as his eyes in the light cast by the Indigo's purple-paned lanterns. When Claye finished, he took a deep sip from his glass before responding.

"Your analysis is impressive, Madame Kilnmyr, but I think you have overlooked one crucial element. If you will allow a simile, the dance of nations is very much like a masquerade ball in Rhetiz, with every country hiding their intent behind a gilded mask. Taelarys has the most decadent mask, the largest retinue, but it is nevertheless the monster at the masquerade. No matter how elaborate the mask of civility and wealth, it is but a frail facade concealing a ravenous beast with few goals beyond its own survival. I agree that the empire cannot sustain itself indefinitely, but before it falls it will return to the old ways, and it will attempt to consume any nation it can to maintain its decadent life for another century, another decade, another year. And as you have so aptly pointed out, Taelar has the military, magical, and technological might to succeed. Thus, it is my duty to assure that when the time comes for another nation to be sacrificed to the gluttonous hunger of Taelar, Rhetiz is seen as too good a friend or too potent a potential nuisance to bother."

It seemed as though Ghedim was about to say more, but came a slight knock from behind the curtain. Turning his gaze from Claye's eyes for the first time since they'd sat, Ghedim bade the server enter, and another scantily clad woman edged through the silk.

"I believe I shall have the Ortolan, my dear. And you, Madame Kilnmyr?"

After they'd given their order, Ghedim turned the whole of his attention back towards Claye.

"I must say, Madame Kilnmyr, you fascinate me. I am not ignorant to the privilege I have been born into, and I cannot truly imagine what your life must have been like. How you've emerged from your trials and tribulations without a battery of psychoses is beyond me, and that you are as charmingly astute as you are fills me with admiration. Tell me - how did you manage it?"

[DJDeMiko]

1st of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
Noon
The home and private quarters of Davis d'Lupil
Jameson

Jameson enters through a back entrance, wearing dark clothes with a deep cloak hiding his face.

Davis, clearly in his drink, looks at Jameson with a snarl and says, What is it Milverton, I have better things to do than have clandestine meetings with you.

Showing nothing on his face, Jameson pulls the hood of the cloak back, It is d'Milverton, I am a lord as well d'Lupil. You seemed well aware of that when you took that loan last year.

Pfah, you minor houses don't count, street trash dressing up in finery, calling themselves royalty. Davis made a scoffing noise. As to your loan, I gave you that money back.

Jameson, forwning, D'Lupil . . . losing the money in my casino and spending it on my escorts is not the same as paying back the loan or the interest you owe on it.

Consider it a lesson learned in who your betters are then boy, now get out of my house.

d'Lupil, I am afraid I must insist, it was a large sum of money and I require it repaid as was agreed. I do not want to take this to the authorities.

D'lupil begins laughing Authorities, minor house skum. I am one of the d'Lupils! I eat worms like you for breakfast. Try to take it to the authorities, I will take you into the high courts for besmirching my name. I will drag your activities out in front of the court. By the end of the whole thing, you might have gotten your pithy loan back, but I will have ruined your name, your business and made you the laughing stock of the cit.

Jameson allows anger to show on his face, Davis, I am not a man to be trifled with.

Davis takes a step closer to Jameson, his face inches away, the smell of mead on his breath. Do you know what you are, skum. You are nothing, a blip on this cities grand history. My friends and I laugh at you, we tell tales of how I have taken your money, you are a laughing stock. The great Lord Leach in his little castle thinking he runs the city. The power that my friends and I hold. The real power of the city, laughing as you play king. It's disgusting and its about time you realize just how powerless you are.

Jameson takes a step back, pulls the hood of his cloak up and simply says Thank you for your time d'Lupil, I look forward to seeing you again soon. In fact, in about a weeks time I will be throwing a party and I would love for you to attend. With that he turns and walks out.



5th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
Noon
Lord's Arena - Jameson's Office
Jameson

Jameson stands as Eris does. Let Ms. Twill know that I have hired you and to find something useful for you to do. If you need lodging there are servants quarters, but if you would like a private room it will cost a little, but its a fair rate. As to meals, all employees get one free meal per day, I can't vouch to it being the tastiest, but if you require something better you can get a discount at The Copper Blade or Silver Knife.

[DJDeMiko]

6th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
Afternoon
City at Large

Darting in and out of the throngs of people, scampering around carriages, a legion of young boys and girl run carrying heavy sacks full of paper.

“Extra, Extra!” they call out, straining their small voices. “Read all about it! Lord Davis d’Lupil to die in Lord’s Arena.”

The city is already aflame with the news, that and more. For the only thing that travels faster than news in this city, is rumor. The juicier and the more disturbing the faster.

“Well, I heard that when they founds him,” a dirty man says to a somehow dirtier man he walks with, “that’s he had chillun’s bodies draped around his bedroom so he could sleep with their dead eyes watching.”

Two other gentlemen, far cleaner, sip brandy while awaiting their meals at The Golden Dagger. “Don’t be absurd Francis, I hear Lord d’Milverton is only inviting Nobles and members of his special club, there is no way you will be able to get a ticket to a party that the empower himself would attend.”

In a darker corner of the city, a man with a nose that suggests not just that it has been broken, but that broken is its normal state of being, looks over a few rough looking men. “See here fellas, with all them people at Lord’s Arena, you gotta guess that Jameson’s gonna have more guards protectin the emporer and other fancy types. An I hear Jameson’s got him a lovely safe in his office full of gems and secrets.”

Too many rumors to count spread through the city. Jameson is the truly guilty party, Davis was caught on purpose so he can assassinate all the nobles, etc. etc.

One though, one above all others persists. One rumor passes through every corner, every office, every ear. Its form shifts, its wording changes, but the meaning is always the same. Something huge is going to happen, something amazing and horrible, something that if you miss, that if you don’t see, that you will regret, that all your friends will talk about and that you shall dream of having seen. The city hungers for it, for the excitement, for the blood of this nobleman.

Excitement it shall have.

Blood it shall have.

[VonDoom]

5th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
Late Morning
Exentia Street, The White Goblet
Mikado

As the tengu was busy drinking, the barely familiar man from the day before walked up to her table. He was more or less on time, perhaps five minutes off on either side -- he hadn't actually checked the precise time they had met yesterday. The Ikoku native was looking friendly enough, a confident smile playing on his lips as he stepped up to Eiko.

He was looking more composed than yesterday, more well rested. Though still gaunt and clearly underfed, he was certainly looking a bit more healthy and less like he might keel over at any moment from exhaustion. The man was also distinctly less wet than the last time they had met, which was a plus.

"Good morning," he offered, holding out his hand. While he wasn't sure if it was a custom the local Tengu shared, it was certainly popular in the region itself. He'd take his chances. "I see I piqued your interest."

4th of Bargenholt, AoT
Afternoon
Clockwork Griffin
Mikado

"I'm certain there is," Mikado replied to the inventor. He briefly knocked on the desk, examining its structure with a curious expression on his face, before looking up to meet de Forza's gaze. "I'm purchasing some property in this city soon -- I'm still weighing my options, but I intend to stay in Taelarys."

"I'll want the place upgraded to modern steam technology standards," he continued, "security, comforts, the works. My funds aren't unlimited, of course, but aside from a few specific requests I might have you'd have more or less free reign to design and incorporate whatever you might find useful; technology past, present and new."

Mikado chuckled briefly, adding. "I'm of the opinion inventors work their best when you let their genius roam free."

[ForzaFiori]

4th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
The Clockwork Griffin
Afternoon
Xavier de Forza

"I would be honored to take the job. When you purchase the property, I'll need to see it to be able to properly design however. Same with any buildings, though blueprints could work in a pinch. Standards for a large scale project like this is 5 marks a day, plus parts. If you want it done quicker than one person can, I can vouch for several mechanists, though you'd need to work out a payment plan with them on their own." Xavier tells the man. He tries to hide his excitement at ANOTHER great sale this soon.

[VonDoom]

5th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
Late Morning
Lord’s Arena – Jameson’s Office

Two days after Jameson's fateful meeting with Mikado, a boy would arrive with a letter addressed to the Lord Jameson d'Milverton. On a first inspection, the writing looked extremely elaborate and clear, if stylized in a rather strange manner. It looked almost like a work of art and might actually have been drawn with a slim brush rather than a pen if the edges were any indication.

Dear friend,

allow me to once again thank you for your kindness as a host two days prior, to one who was but a stranger. As I am very interested in meeting with the local high society, I also thank you once more for your invitation to the event three days hence.

I have since had some time to consider our discussion, and decided to accept your generous offer. As it seems a unique opportunity, I request your assistance in acquiring the final choice; perhaps, as you put it, decadent, but it shall serve me with that very attribute. You need not be discrete about my interest. Indeed, experience tells me that some small daring and scandal can serve one well to be made a popular topic amongst nobility. And considering events-to-come, purchasing such holdings even before your grand show should count as a bold move, should it not?

Your friend,

The final two words were followed by a number of illegible symbols, presumably in the writing style and language of Ikoku. As it was missing any other mention of the writer's name, it was a simple conclusion to assume these the proper, native way to write 'Tatsudoshi-no-Mikado'.


4th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
The Clockwork Griffin
Afternoon
Mikado

"Of course. You'll have full access." The foreigner looked satisfied with that response, nodding briefly. "A reasonable price," he offered in reply, though a thin smile formed on his lips as he continued. "For a normal project. Yes, to start with, that should be fine. But as I said, I'm willing to give you a lot of creative freedom -- once I've confirmed that you are the man for the job, we'll talk again about this arrangement."

Mikado folded his hands together behind his back, studying the inventor before him. "I'm sure we can find a better one, for both of us. I am looking for a profitable trade to invest in, after all."

The man inclined his head briefly, as if he had just remembered something, before an apologetic look crossed over his face. "For now, you'll have to excuse me, though -- I'll have the details sent to your shop once my new residence is ready."

He bowed with a flourish, then abruptly turned towards the door. He had no intention of allowing Xavier to ask any further questions, rather deciding to let his words, and the potential idea of a proper investment sink in to do the work for him.

[the_druid_droid]

6th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
Late Afternoon
House Levant
Tarin

Again Tarin sat behind the desk in his office, but this time he found the company much more to his taste. Across from him, the fading light of afternoon illuminated a familiar gray cloak as Revin leaned forward in quiet conference with the Grand Inquisitor.

“As you requested, we looked into the matter of the Ikokuian ship that docked recently. With the help of a few marks in the right places, we’ve discovered that the mysterious stranger who pays with gems calls himself Mikado. Nothing’s turned up regarding his background from the usual channels, so it looks like this really is his first time in Taelarys.”

At this news, the Inquisitor sat back for a moment, wearing a thoughtful look. “And the ship itself? Have you been able to determine anything about its cargo?”

“I’ve been poking around the docks for a few days, but the sailors are so sick it’s hard to learn much from them. Hopefully I’ll get a chance to take a closer look once customs clears everything and they open up official trade.” Revin frowned sourly as he spoke; the spy did not enjoy having only incremental progress to report.

“Good. Do your best to get on board as soon as possible; contraband aside, it might have a few pretty baubles to amuse the nobles.” A note of derision appeared in Tarin’s voice at the mention of the nobility, and his expression hardened. “Speaking of which, have you begun your pursuit of this Bronze Crusader yet?”

“The search is being mobilized as we speak. We visited the site of the attack, and there’s a passage to the Undercity close by; it’s almost certain that’s where he fled.”

“It’s a pity you have such a large area to search. Still, your men have rooted out a number of Defiant strongholds down there, so I trust you will be up to the challenge. It goes without saying that I don’t want to deal with more foolish nobles getting shot and wasting my time.” Tarin paused for a moment, a glimmer of anger in his eyes. “If it weren’t for the Arch Magister’s very specific orders to play nice with House nobility until the bad blood from Fawkes settles, I would be sorely tempted to call Jareth in and finish what the Crusader started.”

Revin smiled at the Inquisitor’s insinuation; in truth, he had very little love for the nobility, even though he served them through Tarin. Of course, that may have been the reason he was hired as a House spy in the first place; often the most dangerous enemies were the ones under your own roof. “Is there any further business you would have me attend to, my lord?”

“Just see to the usual, along with these recent developments. With any luck, things in the city will escalate, and I’ll be able to acquire some new toys soon.” With another dark smirk, the Grand Inquisitor dismissed his spy, and let his mind wander from the events of the day toward the upcoming execution. He was starting to get excited.

[Jade_Tarem]

4th of Bargenholt, Early Afternoon, The Indigo

Claye nods when Ghedim makes his correction concerning Taelar. "That's one way of putting it. But there's a downside of being the beast at the ball. If everyone knows that you're a step and a half away from consuming them, then they start preparing for the eventuality. As you yourself said, your job is to ensure that Rhetiz is too friendly or too inconvenient to attack, and I can't imagine that there isn't some equivalent of you in every other country bordering the Empire. Whoever the Empire targets next may not need to win the ensuing conflict - they may be able to cripple Taelar just by fighting long enough."

When it's time to order, Claye changes her decision when she finally spots something she's had before - once, out in eastern Lodaria. "I'll have the Chateaubriand. Cooked... to medium, please."

With their orders placed, Claye listens to Ghedim's next question. He really was a charming man; she could see how he had become an ambassador despite his age - and his maneuver in her shop had shown how he had kept the position, she reminded herself.

She scratches the back of her head and grins. "Well, who's to say that I don't have a battery of psychoses? Mostly, I just kept following my Grandfather's trail until it disappeared, so I returned here and started over - I managed to catch the eye of Mirrim Pathric, and here I am."

5th of Bargenholt, Noon, Claye-Potts Machinery

"That depends on the complexity, quality, and firepower that yeh want for your 'mechanical guardian.' It also depends on what you're tryin' t' protect. Do yeh have a design or a schematic?"

5th of Bargenholt, Sundown, Outside The Knight's Bard

Potts looked dubious, to say the least. "We're going to get mugged."

"We're not gonna get mugged." Claye lit her pipe and rolled her eyes.

"How do you know? This has got to be the worst part of the Empire. It's the armpit of Taelarys, the sinkhole of common decency, the grime singularity!"

Claye blinked. "Well, if yeh keep that up, Ah suppose we will." She grabbed his shirt for emphasis. "I know yeh came from a 'good' family, so listen up. When we go in there, there's gonna be all sorts of people, drawn by the Bard's reputation for gossip an' really good spirits. So yeh can't judge by appearances. Some of 'em are gonna be cutthroats, others are gonna belong t' street gangs, some are gonna be regular folks that like hangin' out in places like this, and some might even be guards or nobles in disguise. The only thing they have in common is that they're there for drinks, news, an' maybe a song or two - an' the occasional fight. They start fights with anyone who won't leave 'em alone or are makin' a scene." She let the shirt go. "So just keep any opinions yeh've got to yourself, be polite, an' don't start anything, an' you'll be fine. Or turn around an' go home right now."

Inside...

Claye and Potts finally settled in at a table in the corner. "Why are we here again?"

"Info on the Bronze Crusader. He operates near this section of the city, or at least close enough that the rumors get here quickly. Now we wait, listen, an' relax."

[Lady Serpentine]

5th of Bargenholt, Noon, Claye-Potts Machinery

"No, I'm afraid I don't. Despite my interest in technology, I'm not qualified to design something like that. As far as the other points, I'm trying to protect a person, I'd like as much firepower as can be put in, as much complexity as needed to make good decisions about who's a friend and who's not, and the best quality."

[Kasanip]

5th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
Noon
Lord's Arena - Jameson's Office
Eris

"Thank you, Lord di Milverton. The servants quarters are acceptable. It is useful to listen to the talk of servants to learn information, as you know." She shrugged casually and collected the documents, hiding them in her clothes. Her precise accent again clashed. Saying 'di' and not 'd' was a strange precise saying. Maybe the sorcerers valued precision? Or maybe she was making a joke of him? Or maybe it was another clue to the mysterious girl.
"Excuse me." She said politely.
And Eris exited from the room.

5th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
Afternoon
Lord's Arena
Eris

Meeting and explaining to Ms. Twill that Eris had become hired was not difficult, and soon Eris was following one of the chief servants on a tour of the building. Eris listened and made herself learn all of the names and locations. Then she was shown the servants quarters and her place to sleep.
It was small, but so was she. A small advantage of her age. The tour ended and she changed clothes to the colors of the uniform the servants wore. The chief servant put her to work cleaning and running messages to the other staff, and Eris quickly learned the names of the other servants and hierarchy.

There was a lot of time for thinking when doing chores, and Eris used that time well.
She had a list of the names and places of the house Ostrim sorcerers. And it was clear immediately there was no current Arch Magister. A very interesting development. She would have to find one of these sorcerers of Ostrim, and then she could plan her infiltration, and quickly. If there was a deciding for the Arch Magister, there would be struggle in the houses. Perfect. Jameson's information in the future would help her decide her target.

[DJDeMiko]

6th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
Early Morning
Lord’s Arena – Jameson’s Office
Jameson

Jameson walks around the room speaking quickly, hands gesturing as he speaks while Ms. Twill writes furiously.

Mikado, a splendid decision, you can move in this afternoon, d’Lupil’s staff has all been let go or moved to other households. Have taken the liberty of temporarily hiring a groundskeeper who is waiting with keys and tiding up the house. Please find enclosed invitation, yadda yadda pleasantries. Clean it up, use my normal friendly tone, but make sure its polite. Have one of the boys bring it over.

Jameson ends his pacing looking out his window over the Arena, no fights are taking place now and the stands are empty, he can see the sun in the distance.

How are the invitations coming along?

They are set to go out tomorrow morning Jameson, but we have already received a number of acceptances already.

Jameson smirked. Good, if everything goes as planned this should not only get our sales into a profitable point but show my power. Too many people knew that d’Lupil had stiffed me on that loan. If I didn’t act, it would have made people think I was week.

My lord, I would never speak ill of your decision, but isn’t this a bit extreme. The 100 sovereigns he owed would only be enough to keep us afloat for an extra month. For that you had him arrested, stripped of his nobledom, his wealth, his family, his servants and friends. On top of that he is going to be executed brutally in public while thousands cheer him on and his former family and friends watch . . . .

Without turning from the window.

Actually, with interest it was 147 sovereigns. And yes, it was extreme, that is the point. A man slights me 100 sovereigns and mocks me to the major noble houses. The next thing people know, he is arrested and tried. Killed in the arena, the very home of the man he mocked. On top of that his home is now to be sold to someone before his body is cold and I’m letting it be known, confidentially, that I am helping broker the deal. A slight insult to me and a man’s life is ruined. Imagine what they think I will do if someone did more than just slightly insult me.

Jamesons face remained impassive, almost sadly unemotional throughout the speech, but at the end Ms. Twill sees a slight smile twitch the corner of his mouth. She knew her lord’s tastes where sometimes dark, but even this caused a small shiver to pass through her.

Please make sure all the arrangements for the event are in order and on time. Draft a letter to Xavier making sure the machines are on time, its going to be a hot day and we can’t let Darston sweat.


7th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
Nearing Midnight
Davis Lupil's Cell


Pitch black, a darkness that he had never known. No candles, no lights. His detention cell sealed off completely. All he had to keep him company where the whispers.

No family . . . . . no . . . . friends . . . you have . . . only ussss The sound was awful, like 100 people speaking at once in whispers, but with a mixture of fear, pain and joy in their voices.

He moaned. no, my true brothers will come for me, the other cult members will save me. They will not let me die this way.

you . . . would . . . have let . . . othersssss, the ones . . . you call . . brothers . . rot here . . . why won't they

Deep down he knew it was true. He would have let them die, he would not have risked his money or his dreams of power to save them.

He moaned again. This conversation had been going in circls for hours.

[COLOR="rgb(255, 140, 0)"]Give me the power then![/COLOR] he cried out [COLOR="rgb(255, 140, 0)"]please I beg of you, save me, I will give you anything you want. Virgins, children, gold jewels. Just tell me what you want and I will sacrifice it too you.[/COLOR]

The whispering voices made the sound of a laugh.

Your soul . . . your body . . . your everything

He shook his head, whispering as he could feel them pushing against his mind. Not that, not while there was still . . . hope.

[Mono Vertigo]

5th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
Late Morning
Exentia Street, The White Goblet
Eiko

“Oh, there you are.”
The Tengu shook hands. That was one custom they shared, apparently. “Of course you did. I had the same effect on you, somehow, and that's not an effect I have on people I don't beat up.” Was that too much information already? Who cared? She sat down again and scratched her chin contemplatively. “So, why did you ask me to meet you, sir?”
Despite her slight but obvious alcoholic haze, she was quite attentive.

[DJDeMiko]

You are cordially invited to:
Join his highness Darston VI, Carrier of Law, Savior of Paltensa, Warrior of Light
and
Lord Augustus d'Milverton
at
The Diamond Club of Lord's Arena
for an afternoon of music, food, entertainment and the execution of former lord Davis Lupil
Please bring this invitation with you to speed up entrance. Due to space limitations, please bring no more than 3 guests, including any personal attendants.
Festivites will begin at 1:30 p.m. on the 8th of Bargenholt, 3817 Aot with the Maine even beginning promptly at 2:30 p.m.
Food and beverages will be served and attendees are invited to join us in the dining area of Diamond Club for a reasonably priced dinner by famed chef Harbot Nolton.

[Nefarion Xid]

4th of Bargenholt, Sundown, Fortress of the Rose: Foyer
Claye and Anselme

At first, Anselme wasn't quite sure if Claye had said falutin' or facultin'. He was in the habit of making up words and his own creations had a funny way of slipping past his ears when next they were uttered. Catching on a second later, his left eyebrow shot up (it was possible the one over his bad eye wasn't capable of expressing emotion) and he chuckled, "Ah! Em... forthwith, finding fault for fetid, fen-ish fashion and feeling froggy footwear ****ing uncomfortable, found I friend to freely furnish and feed one "faculting" foreigner for forwardness re: falling, fearing fiendish foes affaire."

Anselme folded his arms behind his back and rocked on his heels as if there was nothing unusual about a suspected mob boss buying him new clothes and offering him room and board. Politely, he didn't pry into what brought Claye here, so he was at least genial (if mad or just dumb).

6th of Bargenholt, A bit before Noon
Exentia Street

Without fail, Anselme arrived at the precise spot where he'd been pulled from the river two days prior and patiently awaited the arrival of Mikado, as bidden. He leaned lazily against the railing between the street and the water, hands deep in his jacket pockets, amusing himself with people-watching to pass the time.

[Lady Serpentine]

7th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
Mid-Morning
Tower of Ostrim, Kyranis m'Kybrae's Quarters
Kyranis and Liella

"So, it says we can bring up to three people, including myself. You're going, of course, but should we bring a third?"

"No. I know what you're thinking, and it's far too risky."

"No-one would need to know who it was."

"Yes, but there are going to be nobles from almost every House, most likely including hers."

"Still, we could invite her as a guest, and then meet her there. It's not as though I'm saying we should bring her to the place from her Tower."

Liella shakes her head.

"It's still too dangerous. She'd be killed if they found out. It would be a simple enough matter to have her executed, given that we would already be at the arena."

Kyranis stands up from his seat on the bed, and begins rummaging through his desk.

"You're right. But in that case, we're still left with the question of whether we want to invite a third person."

"Good question. If we do, Mayna m'Tarnol would help solidify our position, if we made a good impression, but so would Tera m'Shal, or Aerna m'Tymbrel, and all of them are pleasant enough."

Kyranis pulls a fountain pen from his desk, and sits down to begin writing.

"The m'Tymbrel bloodline is probably the most powerful, but I don't like some of their views. Inviting Aerna, and getting their backing, would be seen as endorsing them. The m'Tarnols have been trying to get one of their bloodline as Arch-Magister for years. Mayna would promise support, then stab me in the back when I got close. I don't know much about the m'Shals in general, though, or Tera in specific, but she sounds like our best option."

"I'll try to find out more."

"Good."

Kyranis sets aside the sheet of paper he had been writing on, and takes another. After a short time, he hands it to Liella.

"Take this. I want it clear to everyone that I regard an insult or harm to you as being to myself, and they will be repaid in kind."

[hi-mi-tsu]

4th of Bargenholt, Afternoon
Fortress of the Rose, The Vale
Raina and Anselme

The trip back to the Fortress was uneventful, a fact for which Raina was grateful. She didn't need gawkers or hangers-on wondering about the strange man she was bringing with her, gossiping about him and if he was in trouble or a criminal. She just wanted to get him off the street and ask a few questions.

A swift discussion with the guard that had taken off assured her that, yes, there was stew and bread and wine to be had; the woman's shoulders relaxed, just slightly, and she even managed another faint almost-smile.

"If you'd like to get changed, there is a small antechamber here"--she gestured--"that will afford you privacy; after you've gotten dressed, food will be provided so you may eat during our chat. Does that sound acceptable?"

"Yes, yes, fine. Eh... Bradford, you'll let me borrow a shirt and trousers for now, right? I'd like to have a proper bath before I change into my new things. Oh don't look at me like that, she'll compensate you!" An accusatory look passed between Raina and her guardsman. "Fine. I'll talk to that clerk girl at Haversham's for you."

In short order Anselme emerged wearing his borrowed apparel and with freshly combed hair. He joined Raina at the dinner table while still fluffing out his newly tied ponytail. The scent of clove wafted across the space between them as he fell into his seat and surveyed the food. Tapping his fingertips together and pursing his lips he asked after a brief silence, "Grace etcetera?"

Raina inclined her head, a little. "If you choose to say grace, be my guest. I believe in a different set of morals." She broke bread with the man, but her own plate was different; while she didn't stop her Lions from consuming meat, she herself did not partake, and had a vegetable soup instead.

"Let's start with the easy things. My name is Raina. What's yours?"

He rolled his eyes subtly at the mention of morals. "The Powers care little about what we say, particularly before meals."

Reclining in his seat, he took his glass of wine and sipped it experimentally before continuing. In truth, he was starving, but thought it poor decorum to attack his meal right away. "You may call me Anselme," he repeated for the nth time that day.

"Anselme. An interesting name. And where are you from?" A carefully-measured spoonful of soup, eyes that never left Anselme's face.

"The rumors are that you were pushed off a balcony and fell into the river. But that doesn't tell me who you are."

Anselme's voice was dark, but brassy. Some men have a smokey voice, his was something more like mist. He drank from his goblet once again before tearing off a meager chunk of bread and chewing it a few times more than seemed necessary, pausing for contemplation before answering, "I've been occupied for some time and only just recently returned to the city. I lived here, before."

Another morsel. "In truth, I do not recall what happened immediately before I found myself falling." He swallowed. His one perfect eye regarded Raina calmly; there was no hint of deception in his words.

"...Really..." That was an interesting tidbit. He used to live here, and he got pushed off a balcony but had no memory of why? Or of even being on the balcony itself?

"Perhaps the fall has addled your mind, a bit. When did you live here, before?"

"Not far from here. I am familiar with the Vale... you're a new addition. I should ask you how you came by your position. But, I can guess... and I would be right. I... dislike sharing the position of smartest-person-in-the-room." He flashed a wicked grin at her before sampling the soup.

Raina's eyebrow rose; charming he might be, debonair and even handsome, but there was only so much of the "rakish rogue" mentality that she could handle before growing thoroughly disgusted. Not that she would be cruel! She was nothing if not civil, and she liked this character on a base level. But she was a firm believer in not putting up with any nonsense.

"...All right then." Ignore the comment about sharing "smartest person in the room"...being as she was not currently suffering from a lack of memory--though it was interesting that he had a clear grasp on language despite not remembering right before the fall, and remembered his past but little of recent events--she moved on.

"Do you have any plans, now that you've survived this fall? Is it possible that you have enemies, someone who may be coming after you after learning that you didn't die?"

“Plans? Hmm, insomuch as one does. Yes, I have some people to see in the city. As for enemies… well, none who are currently losing any sleep.” Hard to believe a man like Anselme would simply fly under the radar as it were.
He scratched his temple and reclined in his chair, his meal forgotten for now. “Do you make a habit of showing such hospitality and interest for just anyone who gets dredged from that darling water feature?”

"Not in the slightest." Raina's voice was dry, as she took another bite of soup. "But being as I am usually the one doing the throwing, I must admit that I was interested in a man who caused such a stir. Morseo when you showed up in my district. And if someone truly did throw you off a balcony"--she gave him a look--"I cannot believe they would not be interested in ensuring your demise."

“There’s the rub; you’re concerned about someone in your neighborhood engaging in the unorganized sort of crime eh? Mmm… to be fair I think it was a bit down-river from the Vale. Out of your, eh, jurisdiction.” He chanced another mouthful in between dangerous thoughts and quickly continued, wagging his cleaned spoon towards Raina. “I only said that it would be a good explanation for what happened. I never definitively said I was pushed, nor do I have a reason to suspect anyone would push me.”

Raina's eyes darkened, narrowing as she looked at the man. "My 'jurisdiction' involves anything I choose it to involve. You made yourself my business when you came into my Vale. And whether or not you were pushed..."

She paused, eyes going calculating. "I would dearly love to know how else you would suddenly be plummeting from the sky, into the river."

Anselme locked his good eye on Raina simply to keep it from rolling. Whether or not he was intimidated was hardly the point; she was perfectly capable of having him killed, laughing or not. After a moment he chose to focus on his wineglass. And a moment later he’d downed the contents. “Ms. Nessiel, if I recounted for you the events that lead to me falling in that river, I believe firmly that you’d throw me out of your manor suspecting me to be a damned liar.”

"And I believe that you know next to nothing about me, and making such an assumption is both idiotic and insulting." Raina's voice was cool, but her eyes flickered. "After watching my entire family put to death in fire and agony by strange things that I cannot explain, you will find I have a notoriously open mind about odd phenomena. Besides, I hate to inform you, but you are not the most interesting story of the hour, nor the most unusual. There is supposedly a man made entirely of metal murdering noblemen and Blood guards."

“Wonderful! Well, I hope we’ll all have brunch together then once you’ve located him. Hmm… condolences for your family though, I know exactly what that feels like.” For the entire evening there had been a light of mischief in his one, perfect eye. It wasn’t there now. He'd suddenly grown very somber and sincere.

"...Stay here." Those expressive eyes flickered again, and she almost couldn't believe the words when they came out of her mouth.

"Or at least...make this the place you return to at night." A sigh. "I am not a cruel woman, no matter what those who transgress against me would have you believe. I would rather you be here, where we can provide for your safety, than wandering the streets. ...There is enough death and decay in this wretched place without adding a strange, amusing man to the ranks."

Anselme’s gaze went to his glass. He suddenly wished it were full so he could busy himself for a moment. Instead, he stared for a moment at the speck of drink at the bottom before answering, “A man of my persuasion is disinclined to turn down such an offer of hospitality. Very well, Miss Nessiel. And eh… what would you have me to do to… earn my keep? I’m rubbish with a rapier, just so you know.”

Raina smiled, thinly. "I'm sure we can come up with something for you to do, Anselme. And, sometime soon, I would greatly enjoy hearing the actual tale of what happened to you."

“I hope one day to be so inclined to share it. Cheers.” He finally smiled in earnest and hoisted his empty glass in her direction, bad luck or not.


4th of Bargenholt, Sundown
The Foyer, Fortress of the Rose
Claye, Anselme, Raina

"Don't harass the guests, Anselme." Raina had been handling the new scheduling, substituting in the "alternates" for certain guard members--the alternate positions were useful, as they allowed all of her guards to get breaks every month or so--when she'd been informed that Anselme had accosted someone in the foyer. Sighing, she'd stepped out, glancing over at the woman; Raina recognized her as a machinist, though the name currently escaped her.

"My apologies, madam. I am Raina Nessiel, how may I assist you?" She did so hope it wasn't another minor complaint; she really didn't have time for that right now...

[Jade_Tarem]

4th of Bargenholt, Sundown, Fortress of the Rose
Claye, Anselme, Raina

Claye blinks at the man's wordplay. "Fortune favors foolish fair folks, for sure." She pauses. "Dammit, now yeh've got me doin' it."

When Raina steps out, Claye feels a mix of relief and disappointment. Meeting Anselme had been... an experience to say the least. "Claye Kilnmyr, Miss, at yer service. Ah'm here representin' the Machinist's Guild, an' we wondered if the Blue Lions might have information on the Bronze Crusader that popped up. Specifically, we want t' know if it's actually a homunculus or an imitator, and where he might've been sighted." Claye pauses, and her face scrunches up as though she's trying to remember something. "Oh! An' we'll pay for the information, of course."

5th of Bargenholt, Noon, Claye-Potts Machinery
Claye and Kyranis

Claye drums her fingers on the counter. "Alright. In that case it depends on what yeh wanna pay, and how long you're willin' to wait. Up front, Ah can offer yeh some pretty good traps, and an assortment of nonlethal gadgets that even the untrained can use for defense. If yeh want a permanent guardian, then yeh'll need t' apply to the Guild itself for a homunculus, an' then wait a bit for its completion. Ah'd be happy to build it for yeh, but it'll cost quite a bit. They aren't made cheaply or quickly."

She gives him a frank stare. "But for friend-or-foe identification? Yeh'll probably do best with a bodyguard - a human one."

6th of Bargenholt, after Midnight, Knight's Bard Tavern

Potts stared at the spectacle in disbelief. "This is keeping a low profile?" His voice, however was drowned out.

Claye hadn't meant to hang around the inn quite this long, but so far nothing had been said of the Bronze Crusader, so she kept ordering drinks whenever the innkeeper gave her a sour look. She'd kept the number down so far, but she was beginning to feel the effects.

Not that this was entirely a bad thing. She had started more than half the bar on a rousing improvised drinking song, where each line was made up by the next person around the room. It was a game her grandfather had taught her when she'd turned eighteen, right before he'd disappeared.

"Ooooooohhhhhh Aye dee dai dee dai dee dai dee dai dee dai dee dai!"
"I see him every day now!"
"I haven't missed him once!"
"He still thinks I'm a baron."
"He always was a dunce!"
"I hope he goes away soon."
"An' I won't see him then."
"I might get my wish here tonight..."

The door flew open and a man burst through. "The crusader's at it again!"

The Knight's Bard dissolved into laughter while the messenger blinked in confusion. "I'm serious!"

The laughter began to die down. "Who'd he kill this time?" Someone called from the back.

"He shot a mage on the edge of the district!"

"But did he kill him?"

"I don't know, the mage isn't in good shape."

The patrons went back to their private conversations, fueled by the news. Claye quickly got up and managed to make her way over to the young man. "Ah will pay you three marks just to take me there."

"Three marks? You've got a deal, lady." Claye nodded and slung her pack over her shoulder, following him outside. They hadn't gone far before Potts caught up. "Hey! What about me?"

"Stay here or go home Potts, it's your choice."

"What if I want to go with you?"

"That's too bad. If you want to spar against homunculi, do it at the Guild."

Potts hesitated, and then turned and made his way back to the Ex.

6th of Bargenholt, Well after midnight, Near house Levant

Claye thanked the anonymous man and sent him away with his three marks. Finding a secluded spot, she opened her pack and changed. When she re-emerged, she looked more like a ninja than a machinist. Her dark brown clothing was looser, although not so loose that it could be easily grabbed in a fight. A matching dark brown cloth was wrapped around the bottom half of her head and neck, disguising her features below the eyes. Her tool belt had lost those tools that weren't related to infiltration, becoming much lighter - and was partly hidden by the hooded cloak she now wore. Her boots were altered enough that footprints would no longer match, and her gloves had been swapped for jet-black bracers.

This was the battle mage regalia of House Kilnmyr, minus the proper cloak - prancing around with the Kilnmyr seal draped around her shoulders was hardly the way to remain anonymous.

She quickly surveyed the area. The Bronze Crusader was one heavy machine, so finding his footprints had been fairly straightforward - they were the heaviest footprints nearby. They hadn't gone far before he'd reached a section of street that would no longer show them, but Claye had a hunch that he'd want to go underground as soon as possible. Following from that logic, she'd moved in the direction of the footprints to the nearest Undercity access, and dropped in, where she had found more of the extra-heavy prints. Grinning, she set off into the darkness...

[TheDarkDM]

4th of Bargenholt, 3817 AoT
Early Afternoon
The Indigo

Ghedim grinned at Claye's response, and laughed outright at her talk of psychoses. In doing so, he revealed teeth that were both abnormally white and sharp. He was of fine stock, plainly, a bloodline that stretched back centuries. Putting down his wine glass, he leaned forward with a predatory smile that was at the same time conspiratorial.

"While what you say may be true, should Taelarys make a particularly bad choice in their invasion, I don't think you'll find many nations willing to step up as sacrificial lamb."

Bringing his elbows down, Ghedim wove his fingers together and leaned his chin against them.

"I must admit, I've not had the full tale of your travels. I'd heard you were pursuing your grandfather, but that is where the specifics of my knowledge ends. What happened to necessitate this pursuit?"