[Empire 8] The Coronation of Nathan L'Othaire

[Aerin]

The great Doomweaver Thalus had arrived a full week before the sprawling events.

1. "It is true that New Kildora has been a proud sister of the Masquerade for centuries, but that relationship is one of equals. Your demands for control over my rule and outright vassalage of my state are grossly inappropriate, and you belittle the accomplishments of all who live under the Masquerade with your ill-considered insults. Due to the long history between our regimes, I am willing to forgive New Kildora this slight.

But I cannot and will not forgive you. Leave. Now.

Or be prepared to suffer the Masquerade's hospitality indefinitely."

The toddler-occupying entity makes a gesture to his guards, who move in to flank the Iron Monarch and encircle Doomweaver Thalus's entourage. Some reach for their back masks, ready to channel their very souls in defense of their Savior while most reach for mundane weapons and armaments.

Alexandre Margaux, head priest of the Black Tower, for the first time tonight allows an emotion to cross his countenance as he eagerly steps between the Savior and the threat. A fervent, almost feverish light enters his eyes as he makes his existence useful to the object of his worship.

3. The priests generally mill around and try to stop the Sorcerers without resorting to violence. This is so outside the realm of what they expected that the response is generally bafflement? At the very least, it seems like the ritual takes an obscene amount of set-up time and won't be completing any time soon.

[Tychris1]

Thalus looked over at the guards, the priests, and the throng of thralls that lurked behind. His eyes squinted, the skin roiling almost as his gaze settled once more on the Iron Monarch.

“No.”

He smiled and closed his eyes.

“I will leave when I am ready. If that means extending my stay, well, we shall see about that.” The Head Doomweaver dropped his hand and turned away from their majesty, brushing past Alexandre without paying him any mind.

[Aerin]

Thalus looked over at the guards, the priests, and the throng of thralls that lurked behind.

Brushing past Margaux was the elderly white-haired Doomweaver's biggest mistake, alongside leaving the midst of the throng of thralls.

As Thalus passes, Margaux smacks the elaborate headdress off of the elder man's head. The overly-elaborate, weighted serpentine form drags the Doomweaver off-balance as it begins to fall, ripping out a chunk of white hair. Margaux continues to move fluidly, using the Doomweaver's lack of stability to shove the man forward onto his knees while pinning both of the caster's hands behind his back.

As the CLANG of the headdress hitting the floor rings out across the ballroom, the Doomweaver is forced into a kneel before the Iron Monarch. (He is still taller.) Margaux takes off his black cloak and wraps it over the Doomweaver's head.

"This is the proper level of deference when in the presence of the ruler of the Iron Masquerade," the Iron Monarch states patiently, as if talking to a small child.

"I remember the days, centuries ago, when the Sorcerers of New Kildora were among my most-feared enemies. It almost saddens me to see what you have been reduced to."

Addressing Margaux, "High Priest, lead this imbecile to his new quarters. Make sure he is unharmed; I have a use for him yet."

Taking advantage of the sudden dead silence in the ballroom, the Iron Monarch raises his voice, "With the large amount of more sensible foreign diplomats attending this splendid occasion, I've prepared a high table for us to address a few pressing matters of international policy. If I may direct your attention the front of the ballroom, you'll find a proposal regarding the spread of dust hardening techniques and a proposal regarding adequate preparations for defense against interplanetary invasion."

"For the rest of my guests, please, continue to dance and enjoy the banquet."

He gestures, and the increasingly worried-looking musicians begin to play as if their lives depend on it.

[OOC: The two proposals are as follows. You can choose whether or not to sign or propose alterations of your own.

1. No trading Dust Hardening to any nation or Organization with a capital not on Veehra.

2. Should any Veehran territory or Veehran moon be invaded by a force originating from outside of Veehra's orbit, all signatories pledge aid in defense.]

---

The High Lord returns the wink.

"Compliment taken," the Iron Monarch manages to get out, after straining to keep up with the High Lord's rhythm.

"I, also, delight in finding yourself to be a like-minded individual. It bodes well for future dealings between the Masquerade and his Imperial Majesty."

---

Oskar jots down notes throughout the priest's elaboration, internally satisfied that the priest is willing to admit that he has no idea what he's talking about.

"Raw magical energy." The priest answers, smiling. He's clearly pleased that Oskar is still taking notes, listening, and appears eager to learn. He provides no further details.

---

Todd 35348 is delighted to have found the one person at this party who can hold up their end of a real conversation, as opposed to diplomacy or etiquette or whatever other nonsense the kind of people who throw these parties like to talk about.

Warming to their subject, the High Lady continues.

"It's not instantaneous, but it is drastic. With enough distance and duration, the result is always fatality of the subject.

This is the topic of research that my lab has been attempting to resolve, in fact! It's been slow progress these past decades due to lack of test subjects, but since we recently partnered with the Black Tower," she nods towards Margaux, "we've been making some real headway."

When Lady Petra gestures towards her for input on the benefits of bottling one's soul, she'll volunteer, "Religious and cultural reasons are the most common reason why the majority of Masque undertake the endeavor, but there are a fair few arcanically-minded individuals who simply want the easily accessible magical power source."

---

Ira stands behind John, eyeing the priests with a polite look of intimidation as if daring them to try anything.

The Iron Monarch smiles a canned smile back at the looming King, and responds in a similar low voice, "I will not pretend to be anything other than what I am."

Then, much louder. "Please, excuse me, High King. The night is young, and there are many others who would like to similarly congratulate me upon this eve of my coronation. Enjoy the banquet, and safe travels back to the Highlands of Ishtanos."

He takes his leave.

---

"Ah of course," Mayweather replies.

"Your Mirage is lucky to have such a talented and devoted servant," the Monarch muses with a thoughtful expression.

"A servant which surely has other important matters to attend to at this diplomatic event! Please, enjoy the banquet and the dancing! Let us both mingle with the other guests and show off our powerful masks."

[The_Snark]

"I can respect that.", Yaki says after a pregnant pause. "I must apologize; at a glance I thought you and yours were displaced Greenlanders, but there is more than meets the eye. To our people all things move in cycles - loops, even - I am no Priestess, but the mystics of Kildora may offer insight I lack."

"A fair suggestion. We count a number of scientists and engineers among our number, but none of us are well-versed in the arcane sciences. We have heard tales of the sorcerers of Kildora, of course, but their reputation is not welcoming to strangers... especially not strangers begging aid. Perhaps you might introduce us, or offer counsel on what they might ask in exchange for their wisdom."

Spoiler

Show

Warming to their subject, the High Lady continues. "Well, of course, immortality is the traditional benefit of the long-distance version, though it remains controversial whether it is a true immortality, one of what we call the Noble Eternities. There is also, of course, the resistance to soul-based attacks that travel via the body- very common in some times and places. There are occasional medical reasons for it- certain surgeries are more easily performed on both soul and body when the two are separated. And, of course, there are religious and cultural reasons, but I expect this fellow would be the expert on those." They gesture vaguely to the priest.

Spoiler

Show

"It's not instantaneous, but it is drastic. With enough distance and duration, the result is always fatality of the subject.

This is the topic of research that my lab has been attempting to resolve, in fact! It's been slow progress these past decades due to lack of test subjects, but since we recently partnered with the Black Tower," she nods towards Margaux, "we've been making some real headway."

When Lady Petra gestures towards her for input on the benefits of bottling one's soul, she'll volunteer, "Religious and cultural reasons are the most common reason why the majority of Masque undertake the endeavor, but there are a fair few arcanically-minded individuals who simply want the easily accessible magical power source."

Todd 35348 is consistently ranked in the bottom 10th percentile when polling for Most Punchable Todd. Demonstrating why, he heroically refrains from offering the first three suggestions that pop into his head. He's an engineer who first heard of the soul linkage problem five minutes ago; he's not likely to have any insights this woman hasn't already thought of in the course of decades of study. Not until he's had at least a month to catch up on the relevant literature, anyway. Instead, he asks, "Does your lab publish papers, or make the research available on the InterPlaNet somewhere? I'd love to get a look at what you've tried."

[MappyPK]

Taking advantage of the sudden dead silence in the ballroom, the Iron Monarch raises his voice, "With the large amount of more sensible foreign diplomats attending this splendid occasion, I've prepared a high table for us to address a few pressing matters of international policy. If I may direct your attention the front of the ballroom, you'll find a proposal regarding the spread of dust hardening techniques and a proposal regarding adequate preparations for defense against interplanetary invasion."

"For the rest of my guests, please, continue to dance and enjoy the banquet."

He gestures, and the increasingly worried-looking musicians begin to play as if their lives depend on it.

[OOC: The two proposals are as follows. You can choose whether or not to sign or propose alterations of your own.

1. No trading Dust Hardening to any nation or Organization with a capital not on Veehra.

2. Should any Veehran territory or Veehran moon be invaded by a force originating from outside of Veehra's orbit, all signatories pledge aid in defense.]

The God-King lightly rubs along a few of the luscious locks of his mane, not dissimilar to a human stroking their chin while deep in thought. "This... dust hardening you speak of. I don't quite understand it, but I can tell it is important to your people. The secret is safe with us." He nods, then walks up to the podium and signs this proposal. Before commenting on the second, he steps back and listens in on the discussion.

[farothel]

The two proposals are as follows. You can choose whether or not to sign or propose alterations of your own.

1. No trading Dust Hardening to any nation or Organization with a capital not on Veehra.

2. Should any Veehran territory or Veehran moon be invaded by a force originating from outside of Veehra's orbit, all signatories pledge aid in defense.

While the Bafatis want the treaty to be a bit more than this, it's something they can get behind and then in a second round they might be able to get a better connection. So after a quick call to the capital, the Duke's brother agrees to the counter proposal.

[moossabi]

Spoiler: The priest

Show

"Raw magical energy." The priest answers, smiling. He's clearly pleased that Oskar is still taking notes, listening, and appears eager to learn. He provides no further details.

Displaying no change of expression at the vacuous answer, Oskar simply scrawls further notes into his journal: firm hegemony - will not or can not tell more (latter suggests greater power of monarch) and Aether same as umbrella 'magic', Masquerade/Veehran linguistic counterpart. Clapping the journal closed, Oskar now has all the baseline knowledge necessary to engage with his true objective. "Thank you for your time, erudite one. You are a credit to your liege." Any hint of mockery is masked beneath a perfect shroud of dignity, well-situated upon such a marred visage.

The Fiorid removes his spectacles as he turns away, rubbing off a small stain with a handkerchief before easing them back into place, slit eyes scanning the crowd for a hint of the diminutive monarch. As if to cater to his will, a sudden crash drew all eyes to the precise location of his would-be interlocutor.

Spoiler: The Monarch deals with the Doomweaver

Show

Brushing past Margaux was the elderly white-haired Doomweaver's biggest mistake, alongside leaving the midst of the throng of thralls.

As Thalus passes, Margaux smacks the elaborate headdress off of the elder man's head. The overly-elaborate, weighted serpentine form drags the Doomweaver off-balance as it begins to fall, ripping out a chunk of white hair. Margaux continues to move fluidly, using the Doomweaver's lack of stability to shove the man forward onto his knees while pinning both of the caster's hands behind his back.

As the CLANG of the headdress hitting the floor rings out across the ballroom, the Doomweaver is forced into a kneel before the Iron Monarch. (He is still taller.) Margaux takes off his black cloak and wraps it over the Doomweaver's head.

"This is the proper level of deference when in the presence of the ruler of the Iron Masquerade," the Iron Monarch states patiently, as if talking to a small child.

"I remember the days, centuries ago, when the Sorcerers of New Kildora were among my most-feared enemies. It almost saddens me to see what you have been reduced to."

Addressing Margaux, "High Priest, lead this imbecile to his new quarters. Make sure he is unharmed; I have a use for him yet."

Taking advantage of the sudden dead silence in the ballroom, the Iron Monarch raises his voice, "With the large amount of more sensible foreign diplomats attending this splendid occasion, I've prepared a high table for us to address a few pressing matters of international policy. If I may direct your attention the front of the ballroom, you'll find a proposal regarding the spread of dust hardening techniques and a proposal regarding adequate preparations for defense against interplanetary invasion."

"For the rest of my guests, please, continue to dance and enjoy the banquet."

He gestures, and the increasingly worried-looking musicians begin to play as if their lives depend on it.

[OOC: The two proposals are as follows. You can choose whether or not to sign or propose alterations of your own.

1. No trading Dust Hardening to any nation or Organization with a capital not on Veehra.

2. Should any Veehran territory or Veehran moon be invaded by a force originating from outside of Veehra's orbit, all signatories pledge aid in defense.]

Oskar dei Fiori sticks to the sidelines throughout this entire affair, tuning out the conversation of regionalism to listen for another gunshot. Even over the buzzing din of renewed conversation, he would have heard it; its absence begets a vicious smirk from the reptilian elf. A savvy ruler ought use all potential resources at their disposal; this coronation had been an excellent showing thus far. Were the Doomweaver even slightly less of a pretentious man, he might have suspected the entire affair to have been staged, but the Iron Monarch would not debase itself by constructing so bombastic a figure to be its foil.

When the opportunity presents itself, Oskar glides up alongside the Monarch, offering a respectful bow akin to the others that he had observed throughout this event. "I must commend you for your success today, Iron Monarch. You have proven beyond doubt that I was correct to undertake the lengthy journey to Veehra, and that yours will continue to be a career to keep track of. My name is Oskar, a humble scion of Sansar's Firoid bloodline." He moves to withdraw his journal from its pocket. "Loathe as I am to squander the valuable time of one such as you, my intellectual curiosity would be greatly satiated by a few short questions..."

OOC note: As the round's close is imminent it would be wrong to go fully in-depth with this conversation, so instead I have decided to list out a basic series of questions. Oskar will ask each one after the answer to the previous has been given (if given the go-ahead on his original request), opting not to challenge any vague or unsatisfying answers out of respect for the Iron Monarch's power.

1. He flips to a page of his journal and circles something out of view before making eye contact to ask his first question. "Why not seize a host possessing an intact soul? What would happen if you did so?"
2. Scrawling avidly, his next question is asked without looking up from the page. "Why remain tethered to one dynasty of hosts instead of prioritizing the most valuable candidate?"
3. Next, he glances to the priests. "How far do you wish to spread your religious doctrine? Or, for that matter, the boundaries of your state?"
4. Finally, a hint of a chuckle escapes through lips which have twisted into a devilish grin. "Oh, also, on a less intellectual note, I've just thought of a way to toy with an elder brother of mine. Though I am not here in an official capacity and ultimate discretion is in the hands of my state's Chancellor, I am greatly interested in advocating for our state to invest in your hematite reserves. Would you have any interest in supporting- or at least condoning- such an undertaking?"