[WFRP] The Bloody Crown XIII

[RossN]

Jarla

Jarla smirked at Elsa's description of Nuri. "Maybe I'll have to hire her myself to honour Adelbert's birthday." It wasn't entirely clear whether this was a joke or not.

Elsa's confession was met with a laugh. "Clearly we women of the Empire are not to be trusted! Your secret is safe with me 'Beatrix', but my point was more that while I might end up stealing Irene Sforza's tiara, or her husband's principality I have no desire to plunge the reaches into war."

At Elsa's suggestion they start the trek back she nodded and tugged at Countess' reins.

[-Sentinel-]

"Hmm, well. Doesn't take much to start a war around here. So be careful."

She spurred Bastard to a light trot. She had talked enough and now wanted to go a bit faster.

Spoiler: OOC

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I'm ready for the update, I think.

[TheSummoner]

Sieghard

"As I said, things have been busy in the south." Sieghard replied. "I should have the place ready for you by the third. Meet me there that morning, and we can make everything official."

The conversation quickly turned to coin and soon they arrived at a price of 2,100 crowns. He was pleasantly surprised he had managed to haggle her higher than what Ludo had estimated the building was worth.

"I do have an offer that could make the deal better for you, if you're interested," he said. "You'll do more with the house than I ever could, but that doesn't mean I don't have use for it. If you'd be willing to set aside a room - private and reserved for me when I need it, I can shave a bit off the price in return. Of course, I'd also expect you to keep as quiet as Pietro about my coming and going."

Spoiler

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How about 2,075 if she agrees to the other condition?

[LCP]

Ludo

The two priests had been listening closely, but Hieronymus looked confused as Ludo came to his conclusion. "...In the box?" he said, squinting at the box in Ludo's hands. "Is she, ah... very small?"

---

Sieghard

"A private room? In perpetuity?" said Filomena. She raised her eyebrows, but her eyes looked amused. "Rooms are revenue, Sieghard. If you want me to keep it vacant, that's money out of my pocket every night."

She paused for a while in thought, idly tapping one of her fingers. "Four crowns a month, to hold the room," she said at last. "That's a very favourable rate. And as for keeping quiet," she added with a razor-thin smile, "you can rest assured that we treat all our clients with the utmost discretion."

[TheSummoner]

Sieghard

"I trust that you do, it is the nature of your business," Sieghard replied. Seeing that he had caught her interest, he threw out a comment he knew would only make her more curious. "Still, it never hurts to have assurance. I wouldn't want word reaching the Prince's wife."

"Month by month it is, then." He explained the hidden trap door in the cellar. "I'll have need of the room on the ninth, once whatever the Prince has planned is finished. My guest had some ideas of her own, so she might pay you a visit before then."

[LeSwordfish]

Ludo
"She is... all that remains of her is her skull," Ludo said. "The other undead were keeping her prisoner and they... damaged her. She speaks Classical. Her name is Meskhenet."

OOC

Spoiler

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I'm on a train today, but let me forestall at least one round of posting by saying that unless Hieronymous and Cesar start talking about how she has to be destroyed or something, Ludo will open the box and introduce Meskhenet.

[LCP]

Sieghard

"I trust that you do, it is the nature of your business," Sieghard replied. Seeing that he had caught her interest, he threw out a comment he knew would only make her more curious. "Still, it never hurts to have assurance. I wouldn't want word reaching the Prince's wife."

"Ah, I see why you'd be concerned," said Filomena, completely deadpan. "La Principessa and I are very close. I'll try not to mention it to her at breakfast."

She rapped her knuckles on the table. "Festag, then. I'll have my people ready to take possession. I trust you'll have the place properly cleaned out. Once I have the key, you'll have your gold."

---

Ludo

Hieronymus leaned in as Ludo opened the box, wide-eyed and expectant. He waited for a few moments for something to happen, but Meskhenet's skull showed no signs of life.

"Were you hoping we could inter her - " Cezar began to ask - but then jumped back with a start as the witchlights in her eye-sockets kindled into life. Hieronymus didn't flinch, instead looking fascinated.

<Can you understand me?> he asked, in loud, slow Classical. There was a long wait for the reply.

<Where... have I... been taken?>

<You are in the high temple of Savonne,> said Hieronymus. <My name is Hieronymus. I am one of the priests here.>

Another long silence reigned.

<The temple... of Psaphon...> whispered Meskhenet. <Will you... take me out of this box? I would like... to see...>

Hieronymus looked to Ludo, not certain whether he should touch the ancient skull himself. When she had been lifted out, Meskhenet let out a low hiss that might have been a sigh.

<It has changed... so much...> she said. <But it is still... the same.> The lights in her eye-sockets drifted back towards Hieronymus. <Do they allow... men... to serve Asaph now?>

Hieronymus looked blank. <I am a servant of Verena, Goddess of Wisdom> he said. <Asaph is not a name I have heard.>

"I'm sorry, revered father - what are we doing here?" said Cezar, cutting abruptly in. His face was grey and grave. "Herr Stubbs, you know I have the greatest respect for your, um, efforts... but this is one of the undead. More than that, one that you say committed acts of necromancy in life." He paused, letting the words sink in. "Have you brought it here to be destroyed?"

[LeSwordfish]

Ludo
"When we've spoken," Ludo said, "She's referred towhat happened to her and her people - she did this to an entire fortress's worth - as a curse. Destroying her might be a kindness, if something could be done for her people as well. She believes a spell cast using the book of Nagash is unbreakable. I wasn't so sure."

[LCP]

Ludo

"Returning the undead to rest is certainly the province of the cult of Morr," said Hieronymus, looking to Cezar. "But an entire fortress full of them... I don't believe I've ever heard of such an act of faith." He scratched his chin. "I believe during the Sylvanian wars of the Empire, there was a Grand Theogonist who tried to unbind the army of the von Carsteins... but even then, not with faith alone, but a litany from the Liber Mortis."

"I know the prayers to consecrate a body or a burial site," said Cezar, "but I would not be so arrogant as to think myself capable of so much more. Until Mother Raqiyah passed beyond the gate I was only a village priest." He looked down at his feet. "I wish she were still with us."

[LCP]

Urgrim

The revels under the Rock had gone on late into the night. In the slightly hungover quiet of the morning that followed, Urgrim found enough time alone to open the waxed canvas case and read the letter that Grunda had brought back from Barak Varr.

Spoiler: Urgrim’s Letter

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Dear Urgrim,

It’s good to hear from you. We hadn’t heard here that you’d taken to the ranging rather than the umgi music. I’ve told your father and he agrees that ranging is a respectable trade. Your great aunt Fimbula was a ranger in the Storm Wardens, though I believe she retired on account of her leg. I’m sure you could speak to her if you wished to find work closer to home, though it’s very creditable that you are helping our cousins in the east.

I’d not heard the name of Dwimmulson until I met your messenger, but I have found them in the records of the port. They used to come here more often when the trade routes still ran to Karak Drazh. It’s good to hear that they are still there, though the danger sounds great.

Things are much the same here as they ever were. There was an accident with an ironclad at the Sea Gate, and your father is supervising the repair of the quay, which is bringing great pride to the clan (though the poor captain has gone to Grimnir’s temple to take the oath). Othrun Lunrunsdotr was asking after you last week, and I’m sure she would be pleased to see you again as well. I always thought she was a sound young woman. They say she is doing very well for herself at the shipmasters’ guild.

Please write to let us know if you receive this letter, and that you are still safe and healthy. And know that there will always be a bed and a warm hearth for you here if you choose to return.
- Dagmar.

---

Festag, 3rd Ulriczeit

Turfing out the occupants of the Greenapple house caused a fair deal of wailing and gnashing of teeth. Sieghard had brought along a handful of the Thorns in case of trouble, but he didn’t need them - he was an intimidating enough figure to begin with, and Filomena had brought along some men who looked like hired muscle of her own. Pietro was among them.

“Please, sir,” said one of the women being turned out. In one hand she had the coins Sieghard had given her to find new accommodation; in the other, she held onto a small sack of belongings. A small boy clung to her leg, hiding from Sieghard behind her as if he were hiding from a wolf. “We don’t have anywhere else to go.” She clutched the coins tightly in her closed hand. “I know you gave us money but… there’s no work, and the days are getting colder.”


Still, out they went. When the last of the residents had been turned out, and the house had been swept clean of the few odds and ends they had left behind, two of Filomena’s men brought forward a heavy iron-bound box, which they dropped with a thud at Sieghard’s feet.

“Your money,” said Filomena. “There’s more where it came from too, if you can clear those other buildings out. How long do you think that might take?”

---

Konigstag, 9th Ulriczeit

As the week wore on, more and more people had been arriving for the ball. Sieghard had seen a carriage-full of elders from the Vale arriving by the south gate, Steffan Sussman among them. A large riverboat had brought the guilders of Putbad, the abbot of the Azrillite monastery and Leona Groz. The only person missing from among all the great and good of the Reaches - in his own estimation at least - was Odo Stubbs. Ludo knew that Last Water was too far for Sforza’s messengers to have reached in time for his father to have attended, but at the same time, he was sure that the idea of there having been a Grand Occasion that he couldn’t attend would eat away at Odo like an ulcer.

On the afternoon of Konigstag, the walls of the great hall had been hung with banners, and a forest of candles were standing ready for the lighting. The smell of roasting meat was wafting from the kitchens, the servants of Sforza’s household scurrying this way and that in frantic preparation for the arrival of their guests.

Jarla was making her own preparations in her room, when one of Irene’s handmaids summoned her to her mistress’ chambers. There, she found the principessa trying on a new gown in front of a floor-length mirror. It was made from lustrous blue-green satin, with a deep Bretonnian neckline and a bodice of black and gold brocade. The colours were very like the dress she had had made up for Jarla - though Jarla suspected the cost was in a different league altogether.

“Ah Jarla, there you are. What do you think,” she said, “too much?” She turned to look at herself side-on. “Or not enough?”

Turning at last to look at Jarla, she beckoned her closer. “You know tonight’s the night for landing your fish,” she said. “Or at least for inspecting the stocks. Come and find me after the first dance, and I’ll make the introductions.” She looked Jarla up and down, seeming satisfied with the tailor’s work. “Though really I think they’ll make themselves.”

[-Sentinel-]

Elsa spent most of her week catching up on Tatiana's magical training, which she had not had much opportunity to attend to lately. She also asked her apprentice if she wanted to come to the Prince's feast, but assured her that she was under no obligation to, as the hated Irene Sforza would be there as well. Tatiana would not have forgotten the sneering contempt Irene had heaped upon her in the basement in Manann's Keep.

"If you do want to come, I'll get you some nice clothes. If you don't... well, you can spend some time with your new horse. Better company than Lady Sforza, that's for sure."

Her new winter gown, dark slate-grey in color and with brown fur around the neck, was ready on the 7th. It was elegant without being excessively ornate or flashy, and designed to be taken off quickly in an emergency. And it included a deep pocket for Khalida. Fun as it might be to spring the snake on Irene when she least expected it, a scared noblewoman was not worth a dead familiar, so Elsa mentally vetoed that plan early on.

One day I'll see fear in your eyes, Irene. One day.

Spoiler: OOC

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I've got nothing planned for the 9th before the ball.

[LeSwordfish]

Ludo, 2nd
Ludo nodded sombrely. "But do you think it could be done for this... this woman alone?"

Ludo, 9th
Ludo had spent the week, largely, enjoying a well-earned rest, developing a routine of a late morning stroll through the city, a pie for lunch, and spending the afternoon training with the Thorns - "marching" out to a patch of scrubland outside the city, practicing gunfire with their new rifles on the same old straw targets as before, and returning for a drink in the evenings. The marching had crept later in the day over the week, as the drinking left it's mark, but Ludo felt no particular need to correct

The thorns had taken to their weaponry like ducks to water, largely, and thanks to Steffan's careful instruction, nobody had lost more than an eyebrow yet - although the first time Ludo had fired his rifle, he'd been knocked clean off his feet. There were a few fewer guns than soldiers, and so some were instead taking the opportunity to continue crossbow drills. Rike had demurred from the rifle duels, citing her injured hand, but something in her tone of voice had indicated to Ludo that, perhaps, the memory of her friends being gunned down by these same weapons was too fresh: he had resolved not to push it, and she had spent the week sat on a rock by the edge of the group, watching with detached interest and bantering gently with Ingwald, who had been her squad leader until Nath.

As the day of the ball approached, he took the chance to pull Hanna, Ingwald, and Gustaf aside. "Seems to me that any celebration of the vampire's death should include the people who did the actual work to take him down," he offered. "How clean do you think you could get your uniforms by the ninth?"

OOC

Spoiler

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Unless they refuse, Ludo wants to get Ingwald, Hanna, and Gustaf invitations to the ball, probably by speaking to whoever is organising it below Irene's level - her handmaidens? idk i dont go to balls, lockdown you know - and trying first to persuade them that the command echelons of the Thorns is five people rather than just two, and then secondly trying to charm them into making an exception. If it's a handmaiden perhaps offer to introduce her to some strapping young soldier boys, that kind of thing. (1d100)[14] Charm vs 92, re-roll (1d100)[59]

[TheSummoner]

Sieghard - 3rd Kaldezeit

"I'll see to it that you aren't stuck out in the cold," Sieghard told the woman. He kept his expression stern, but he realized that it might mean paying for more than just one month's rent. "What do you mean that there's no work? What skills do you have?" he asked. "I'll help how I can, but you'll need to find some means to provide for yourselves. I'm one man - I can't keep everyone housed forever."

~

"When the people in them can be dealt with," Sieghard replied to Filomena. "There are far more in the warehouses than there were in here and I won't have them dying in the streets come winter." He showed her the inside of the building and scratched Sighrd onto the paperwork in the closest imitation of what Ludo had shown him that he could manage.

---

Accompanied by the same men who he had brought with when he had sold the Greenapple house, Sieghard spent much of the next few days speaking to the people who had lost their homes to the fire, learning what he could about their situation. He assured them that the Prince would hear their plight, though in truth he had his doubts Sforza would care. Some were willing to cling to what little hope Sieghard was able to offer. Others were more skeptical, but had resigned themselves to their current circumstances. At one point, he had lost his temper with a man who was more belligerent than most and reminded him that he was the only one offering them any help at all and could easily walk away. While speaking to those in the warehouses, he made it clear that he wasn't going to permit uncovered flame and that anyone who objected could trade places with the men stuck with the Thorns' old tents.

On the 7th, he spoke briefly with Al-Makir about trying to find work and relief for the homeless. He knew that if there was any chance of the Prince himself listening, it would have to wait until after the upcoming celebrations.

---

9th Kaldezeit

I look ridiculous, Sieghard thought as he examined himself in his new clothes. The outfit fit quite well, but he was still uncomfortable and while he liked that the color was similar to the Thorns' uniforms, it was far finer than anything he had ever worn. He couldn't help but find it rather ostentatious.

Spoiler

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100xp spent on Read/Write. Sieghard is now barely literate enough to scrawl something that, with some squinting, might be interpreted as his own name.

Rolled haggle for the clothes in the OOC thread and got 3 DoS. I'm assuming 35gc based on the roll and 10% per DoS, but if needing it in about a week brings the price up, let me know. The outfit includes a hat because Sieghard wants everyone to know his role in killing Nahorek and everyone knows that if you kill a dangerous monster, you get a nice hat.

[RossN]

Jarla

Being a princess's confidante/companion/lady-in-waiting was not the hardest job Jarla had ever had and Irene made for a far livelier person to live with than Heinrich but it had it's share of exhaustions and struggles. Every day Jarla was paying court to the principessa and every day required different strengths; how to flatter without seeming like a mindless toady, how to weigh when was the time to discuss gossip and when was the time to turn to more serious matters, how to dress appropriately, what perfume or eyeshadow would see one of Irene's graceful eyebrow's inch aloft in disapproval...

Jarla remembered her travelling player days, in some ways the happiest era of her life. She'd played a variety of roles and sometimes when called upon to act for her audience of one she felt like she was channelling the loyal and faithful Ingrid in The Desolate Prisoner of Karak Kadrin or the doomed Celine in Barbenoire: The Bastard of Bretonnia (though at least unlike with Celine she was not required to compensate for a Bretonnian accent you could fry frogs with with an exceptionally tight bodice.)

Her feelings were hard to put into words. On the one hand that cold anger over Adelbert still burned within her. On the other hand... well she wanted Irene's approval, her praise. The woman was so glamorous, and could be so witty and compelling in close quarters. It was impossible to have just one feeling towards her.

In the lead up to the ball Jarla had spent her 'free time' exploring something of Savonne. She had paid visits to the temple to lay flowers on Adelbert's grave, had inquired after jewellry and had ridden Countess to give her horse some needed exercise. She had once or twice approached Elsa about letting Tatiana join her for the ride; as a horse lover herself Jarla found the young apprentice's connection with beasts intriguing and rather liked the girl.

---

Jarla had made haste to answer her mistress's summons and not for the first time was at once appalled and impressed at how striking Irene could look.

"My lady," she said clapping her hands together in visible delight. "You look radiant! Simply everyone will be talking about you. I can already hear the jealous gossips starting now."

Moving closer she found herself smiling at Irene's comment. "Thank you my lady, I owe it to your taste - and your tailor." She glanced around, largely to add drama and said: "Is there anyone particular her highness would rather not talk too tonight? I can pre-emptively strike up a conversation with them so as to avoid any po-faced burger who might dribble on your shoes or attempt assassination by boring you to death."

[LCP]

Ludo, 2nd Ulriczeit

“We could… break up the bones and give them a consecrated burial,” said Cezar. “But you said yourself, Herr Stubbs, this woman committed a heinous act of necromancy.” He shook his head. “Morr will not take her. Her soul will wander in the Grey Vaults before his Gate.”

Hieronymus bit his lip. “I believe the good brother is doctrinally correct,” he said. “More than that, we still have the book to deal with ourselves. If she read from it - used it, even - she may be the best source we have on how it can be contained. It would seem a little premature to, ah, banish her.”

Cezar looked concerned. “She is one of the undead,” he said. “It is our duty.”

“In a narrow sense, yes,” said Hieronymus. “But in a broader sense, if it helps us combat the greater blasphemy… well, we must think of the greater good, must we not?”

---

Sieghard, 3rd Ulriczeit

"What do you mean that there's no work? What skills do you have?" he asked.

The woman looked a little frightened to be put on the spot. “Uh, working the land,” she said. “Sowing, reaping, working a plough…”

When the people in them can be dealt with," Sieghard replied to Filomena. "There are far more in the warehouses than there were in here and I won't have them dying in the streets come winter."

“Aren’t you Shallya’s own saint?” said Filomena, the hint of a smile on her tight lips. She looked over to where her men were throwing open the windows of the house to let it air. “Well, as I said before - when you’re ready to sell, I’ll be waiting. But not forever.” She folded up the deed and turned away. “I’m sure there are other people in Savonne with property I can use.”

---

Jarla, 9th Ulriczeit

“I think I can handle myself on that account,” said Irene. She turned away from the mirror with a sigh. “Though I suppose Holt will be there, boring everyone with how terribly important it all was. You met her on your trip south, yes?” She touched Jarla’s arm lightly with her hand. “My condolences.”

[-Sentinel-]

9th Ulriczeit


Walking down the stairs from her room in her new fur-lined gown, Elsa salivated at the smell of roasting meat, but seriously wondered if Sforza had an inkling of the situation in the Reaches, even in the most abstract numbers-in-a-ledger sense. For someone who had campaigned for years in deserts and wastelands, he did not seem too good at managing resources. Perhaps he was so used to pillaging and taking tributes from the vanquished that he simply did not know what to do once he ran out of towns to conquer.

We'll need a serious chat about this before the common people decide to roast and eat us.

But that could wait until another day. The next council meeting, maybe. Tonight the taste of Prince Sforza and his wife for conspicuous consumption had to be indulged, hopefully for the last time until spring. And Elsa had to admit... she could definitely get used to this sort of life. Was material comfort not the whole point of building a civilization?

[LeSwordfish]

Ludo, 2nd
"You can see that this is a complicated doctrinal issue." Ludo said. "If I may, father Hieronymous, I'd like to render her into your care. As a... a relic, or a primary source, however you wish to see her. It seems irresponsible for me to take her back to Painford, and you would know much better than me how to question her."

[RossN]

Jarla, 9th Kaldezeit

Jarla felt her cheeks flush at Irene's light touch on her arm and the word 'condolences' coming from this woman. Her head swirled with confused feeling but she managed with an effort to show the complexity of emotions on her face.

"I met her your highness. She is... a peculiar woman under any circumstances," Jarla said, expression thoughtful as she tried to find the right line. "Then again she is from Altdorf and all that fog probably softens the brain."

She smirked. "I played a sorceress once on the stage once. And two or three princesses. I can certainly say that meeting them in real life has given me cause to re-evaluate my performances, and in your case your highness, I intend that as a compliment."

[TheSummoner]

Sieghard - 3rd Kaldezeit

“Aren’t you Shallya’s own saint?” said Filomena, the hint of a smile on her tight lips.

"Nothing of the sort," Sieghard replied. "If letting them squat in a drafty warehouse keeps them from burning down the rest of the city, it's a small enough price to pay."

---

9th Kaldezeit

Sieghard sighed, put on his new hat, and made his way to the ballroom. More than a little self-conscious, he glanced around the room, trying to find someone he knew among the guests. He spotted Jarla first and acknowledged her with a nod, but decided not to approach her while she was at Irene's side. When he noticed Burhan, he walked over to join him. "See that man with the black beard? Over there speaking with the Countess. He's the head of the Cooper's guild," Sieghard told him, trying to subtly indicate who he was talking about. "And the younger man with them is one of her cousins. Not the guildmaster himself, but he has some influence among the wheelwrights. We'll wait until they've had a chance to have a few drinks and then I'll introduce you."

[LCP]

Ludo, 2nd Ulriczeit

Cezar’s frown deepened. “We cannot keep one of the undead in the house of Morr,” he said, to Hieronymus as much as to Ludo. “It’s out of the question.”

“Yes,” said Hieronymus, stroking his beard. “That is very true. We’ll have to keep her somewhere else.” That solution didn’t seem to have struck Cezar, who looked caught off-balance. “My house, perhaps. I have a little library there.”

“That… forgive me, father, but I must follow my god here. This is not some… rare book we are talking about. Her existence is a blasphemy against the word of Morr. A blasphemy we have it in our power to end.”

Hieronymus put a soothing hand on the younger priest’s shoulder. “I understand, brother,” he said. “But if Herr Stubbs’ story is true - and he has never given us reason not to trust him - then there are hundreds of other blasphemies still walking the Mere. Not to mention the one buried under the keep. Her knowledge might help us put all those to right. If we destroy her, that knowledge dies with her. Knowledge that might now exist nowhere else in this world.”

He patted Cezar’s shoulder. “Destroying that would be just as much a blasphemy against Verena as preserving it is against Morr. I hope the Lord of Dreams will yield to his wife on this occasion - at least, until everything this ancient knows can be transcribed. In the meantime, we’ll make an offering, and have the initiates say orisons for our sins.”

Cezar still looked disgruntled, but seemed to yield to Hieronymus’ judgement. Hieronymus turned back to Ludo.

“Thank you for bringing this to us, Herr Stubbs. You can trust she will be safe in our keeping.”

---

Sieghard, 3rd Ulriczeit

Filomena paused for a moment, then turned back towards Sieghard. “That’s the face you want to put on it? Keeping order for his highness,” she said. “I have been following him for a lot longer than you, Sieghard. Trust me, he won’t thank you.”

Her advice given, she headed back towards the house. “It looks like I have plenty of work to do,” she said. “We’ll see you next week, yes?”

---

Jarla, 9th Ulriczeit

"You'd better," said Irene, shooting Jarla a look of mock warning. "You're right, though. I hadn't thought of it that way. A sorceress ought to have some style."

She gave an exasperated roll of her eyes, and did her best to calm herself. "Go on, you should finish getting ready. I'll see you in the great hall."

---

The Victory Ball

Konigstag evening saw Ludo and the three Thorns joining the steady stream of Savonne’s well-to-do heading into the keep. The Thorns had washed their uniforms and starched their collars, but they still seemed more than a little nervous to join such distinguished company. Gustaf in particular was sweating profusely. By all accounts he had been something of a poacher before he joined the army; perhaps it was natural that he had an aversion to mingling with the landed gentry.

Inside, a crowd was gathering in the great hall, lit by glittering constellations of candles. The main part of the floor had been cleared for dancing, while the smell of food wafted tantalisingly from some of the neighbouring rooms. Ludo could make out Hieronymus in his white robes, and Rinn Elmendrin at the head of a small Dwimmulson delegation near the head of the hall. Skorgrund was with her; he had brought the book.

Trumpets sounded in the gallery, and the loud hubbub of voices died away. Every head turned as a troop of Iron Company men formed up in front of the door, heralding the arrival of their hosts. Resplendent in a tunic of black and gold under a sable-trimmed cape, the Prince struck almost as dazzling a figure as his wife.

“My friends,” he said, addressing the crowd from about a pike’s length away. “My subjects. My people. Three months ago, I promised you peace.” He looked across the sea of silent faces, taking in their rapt attention. “That peace was broken by the monster who called himself Nahorek the Jackal. He blighted our crops, attacked our temple, and tried to raise his own stronghold against us in the wasteland.”

A servant came hurrying forwards, holding an iron-bound box. When it was opened, it revealed the two halves of Nahorek’s onyx mask, resting on a velvet cushion. Sforza took one of the halves and held it high for all to see.

“I have brought you here to tell you this: the Jackal is dead!”

Taking their cue, the ball-goers broke into cheers. At first they were rather scattered and ragged. It took the Iron Company men joining in to instil some volume.

“Struck down by our own soldiers!” said Sforza, gesturing emphatically to Sieghard through the crowd - though he did not summon him forward. “This is the promise I made to you when I assumed the crown. No matter who comes against us, man or monster - as long as a Sforza sits on the throne of Savonne, you will be protected.”

This time the cheers seemed a little more heartfelt. Sforza held up his hands for quiet.

“We all know it will be a hard winter ahead. The wounds this creature dealt us will take time to heal. But this shows that we are strong, together. And none stronger than our allies from the Rock.” Now he gestured open-handed to Rinn Elmendrin. “It was their weapon that returned the beast to the grave. It is my great pleasure to return it now to their keeping.”

Elmendrin came forward, and another servant brought out the spearhead, wrapped in a silk cloth. She received it with a simple bow of her head.

“Clan Dwimmulson thanks you, Prince Sforza,” she said. “It gives us joy to see the work of our ancestors returned.”

Sforza bowed back, not quite as low. He clapped his hands together. “And now!” he said, continuing in the same oratory tone. “You have not come here for long speeches. So please, dance, drink - and let us celebrate a victory hard earned!”

This time the Iron Company didn’t wait for the cheering to start - instead, they started stamping their feet and chanting their ruler’s name. The crowd joined in with a will, and the Prince stood with a broad smile on his face, drinking it in. He took Irene’s arm and gestured up to the gallery, where the musicians began to play.

“Bloody umgi,” Urgrim heard Skorgrund grumble, making no effort to keep his voice down. “All flash.”

~

The first dance was a bourrée, long lines of dancers weaving up and down the hall in a stately fashion. Those who weren’t dancing gathered around the edges, or congregated in the side-rooms where food and drink were being served.

Jarla could not get hold of Irene after the first dance, or even the second - the principessa’s attention appeared too occupied, or perhaps she was just enjoying herself too much to remember. After the third dance, however, she found the Sforzas at last emerging from the intricate whirl of dancers.

“Ah, Jarla!” said Irene, catching her eye across the hall. She beckoned to her across the hall. “Come here. Have you met Giovanni?”

A tall, square-shouldered Tilean met her gaze with a cocky smile and what he probably thought was a dashing twinkle in his eye. “Giovanni, this is Jarla Schreiber,” said Irene. “The heroine of the hour, you know.”

Sforza knitted his brows for a moment before he caught onto what his wife was doing. “Ah, yes,” he said, clearing his throat. “Signora Schreiber carried our message into the Jackal’s jaws.”

“Myrmidia be praised that you returned unharmed, signora,” said Carraciolo, giving a deep bow. “It would have been a crime as monstrous as any of his others if that beast had scarred such a pretty face.”

“Giovanni, I told you you had to behave,” said Irene. She turned back to Jarla. “Giovanni is Muzio’s longest-standing officer. And what is it now... lord of the north?”

“Lord-lieutenant, your highness - and very grateful I am too,” said Carraciolo. He thumped a closed fist over his heart. “But always a brother of the Iron Company first.”

The Prince put an arm around his lieutenant’s shoulder, saying something in Tilean that made them both break out in laughter. “Come on!” said Sforza. “If I’m paying for all this, I want a drink!”

Spoiler: Mingling With the Sforzas

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OOC: Rather than write the whole evening out in prose, I’m going to summarise here Jarla’s first impressions of each of the people Irene introduces her to, and what Irene says about them in a private aside. You can choose which you want to roleplay further interactions with, if any.

Giovanni Carraciolo
First Impressions: Obviously taken by Jarla’s looks, but not so interested in her as a person. Seems to see himself as a charmer/ladies’ man, but his manners are a bit more common than the Sforzas’ - his brand of smooth talk would be better suited to chatting up more impressionable young women. Still he’s not bad-looking, and has a very powerful position.
Irene’s Take: Giovanni’s a brute, but he’s our brute. I’m sure he wouldn’t treat you poorly, if Muzio and I made it clear.

Esteban Valdes
First Impressions: Valdes’ manners are more refined than Carraciolo’s, but he’s also stiffer and more formal. He treats Jarla with chivalry and respect, remembering her role at Nath, but it’s a bit difficult to strike up a conversation with him. His position as Lord-Lieutenant of the South is probably the second most powerful after Carraciolo’s, but more remote from court.
Irene’s Take: A real officer, from a good family, but a bit of a romantic. You know how the Estalians are. I think for a while he was pining over a Magrittan girl. Holt’s monster tore her throat out, though, so you should be in the clear.

Abdul Al-Makir
First Impressions: Abdul is significantly older than Carraciolo or Valdes, but he’s friendly, chatty and polite. He’s very happy to swap stories and hear about Jarla’s adventures on the road - but you suspect he’d be that way with almost anybody. As Lord Treasurer he wields a lot of influence, but doesn’t have any lands.
Irene’s Take: You know, I’ve never got the measure of that old daemon. Muzio picked him up from one of the nomad tribes, when he was working for the Emir. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen him with a woman.

Steffan Sussman
First Impressions: As in Manann’s Keep, Sussman is very solicitous towards Jarla, without being quite as blatant as Carraciolo. He’s very impressed to hear about her role in Nahorek’s defeat, and thanks her profusely on behalf of Manann’s Keep. His position is a lot less powerful/prestigious than the others - but the Vale is supposed to be rich.
Irene’s Take: He helped us with the mad old fish that was in Manann’s Keep before Muzio. Clever, for someone of his breeding. You ought to be careful of that, Jarla. It’s no good marrying a man who’s cleverer than you.

“Of course,” Irene said, as she whisked Jarla away through the crowd with her head whirling with introductions, “our Warden of the Thornwood should be somewhere around here, too. So common his family don’t even have a name, but that doesn’t worry some people. Oh Holt, I didn’t see you there.” Jarla felt the temperature of the conversation drop several degrees. “I love your dress. Where did you get it?”

~

"See that man with the black beard? Over there speaking with the Countess. He's the head of the Cooper's guild," Sieghard told him, trying to subtly indicate who he was talking about. "And the younger man with them is one of her cousins. Not the guildmaster himself, but he has some influence among the wheelwrights. We'll wait until they've had a chance to have a few drinks and then I'll introduce you."

Straightening his jerkin and smoothing back his hair, Burhan followed Sieghard over to where Leona Groz was standing once the moment was right. As he came closer, Sieghard saw the man he had taken for Tobar was not, in fact, Tobar - though there was a strong resemblance in his thick black hair and beard, this man was a fair bit younger, and lacked the old guildmaster’s round belly.

“Sieghard,” said Leona, looking up at the two of them approached. “Did I take the Prince’s meaning right? You were there at the death?”

[-Sentinel-]

“Of course,” Irene said, as she whisked Jarla away through the crowd with her head whirling with introductions, “our Warden of the Thornwood should be somewhere around here, too. So common his family don’t even have a name, but that doesn’t worry some people. Oh Holt, I didn’t see you there.” Jarla felt the temperature of the conversation drop several degrees. “I love your dress. Where did you get it?”

Elsa put on a brittle smile. Good thing she had chosen to remain sober until she was out of the ballroom. She would let nothing spoil her night, not even having to be polite to Adelbert's murderess.

"Thank you, principessa, you know how much I value your opinion. I have Jérémie to thank for my dress." There were not many fine clothiers in Savonne, so giving Jérémie Mercier's full name would only give the impression that Elsa did not shop for luxury goods very often. Which, granted, would be the correct impression. "I know it's on the plain side compared to yours... I made my order late and poor Jérémie was in a bit of a rush. I haven't had the luxury of ample leisure time in Savonne this past month," she said, her lips curling into a subtle sneer.

She turned to Jarla, her manner still formal; it would not serve Jarla's interests for Elsa to act too familiar towards her in Irene's presence. "And you, lady Schreiber... I am told you are looking for an eligible bachelor? Moving up in the world, I see. And deservedly, too. Some of your potential suitors have already witnessed your courage firsthand. Take my advice, you want a husband who knows that a woman like you belongs in the thick of things, not locked away in a boudoir to keep her out of trouble. You're only young once."

[TheSummoner]

Sieghard

"Not only was I there, I was the one who struck the final blow that brought the vampire down," Sieghard replied, already feeling more in his element. "The high priestess and the beast's other victims will rest easier now that he's gone." He glanced towards the man he could only assume was guildmaster Tobar's son and offered a handshake."I'm Sieghard and this is my friend Burhan. He proved quite helpful back during the siege of Alvarran. It was his boats that carried the Prince's supplies the first leg of the journey up the Azril"

Spoiler

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Filomena paused for a moment, then turned back towards Sieghard. “That’s the face you want to put on it? Keeping order for his highness,” she said. “I have been following him for a lot longer than you, Sieghard. Trust me, he won’t thank you.”

Ain't that the truth

[RossN]

Jarla

The great hall of Savonne keep would never give Countess Emmanuelle von Liebowitz any sleepless nights but as Jarla glided into the makeshift ballroom in her new dress and shoes she was impressed. Evidently the staff had worked wonders. The Imperial woman had been a little nervous about appearing in a dress of such similar colour to Irene's but the sheer quality and beauty of the clothes washed those fears away and blue-green was rather her colour, given her pale complexion, copper hair and grey blue eyes. She'd arranged her hair in fashionable ringlets to better frame her face and her eyes and tightened her own bodice just so to suggest the shape of her chest without giving some of the older gentlemen convulsions.

She had curtsied before the royals and taken part in the early dances, pleased to see her skill had not deserted her. Later she'd have to mingle with some of the great and good beyond just those Irene introduced her too. It was time to make her mark in public life.

"Incantato, Signor Carraciolo," Jarla said upon her introduction to the lord of the north, offering her hand for him to kiss. Irene had certainly been apt with her description of the man, he did seem a powerful brute and Jarla's blue-grey eyes widened slightly as she took in the physique she suspected was more at home in armour than anywhere else. Carraciolo was probably not the most sophisticated in the bedchamber but she'd be lying if she said there wasn't an attraction to muscles and sheer power and his immense... status.

Valdes was on some level more interesting with his courtly ways and dignity and Jarla did find beards rather dashing. Still the man seemed to have walls around him, a reserve not simply due to his collected nature. "I fear I know little of your homeland my lord," she said, trying to make inroads, "though I hear it is beautiful and famed for the gallantry of her diestros. I am practiced in fencing myself, and know it takes grace, skill and dedication."

After Irene's aside Jarla began to feel she had more of a grasp on the man, and felt sorry for him. She didn't quite share Irene's feelings about things being 'clear' however - a dead lover could be far more problematic an opponent than a living one...

There was a genuine pleasure in conversing with Abdul Al-Makir, that garrulous individual but she also found him difficult to read. In some ways he seemed almost the opposite of Carraciolo. The towering Tilean would be a fun tumble but she had a difficulty imaging more with him, while the Arabyan seemed far more pleasant company... but she wasn't sure if he was even interested in women. Still, at least she wouldn't go poor if she chose him. "Tell me more of your country Abdul," she purred. "I know so little of it's ways."

Steffan Sussman of course she already knew, and there did seem a little bit of a spark there. Where she struggled in conversation with the dour Valdes and talking beyond direct flirting with Carraciolo Sussman had polish and wit she warmed too. "It is a pleasure to see you again Steffan," she said, truthfully. "I hope the Vale fares well."

As Irene drew her aside after the meeting with Sussman Jarla laughed lightly and winked at her mistress/best friend/enemy. "I have to admit I like a man with something in his head and not just his codpiece, but thank you for the warning your highness."

Jarla reflected that Sussman and possibly Al-Makir did perhaps have more brains than she did, but she liked to think she was cleverer than Giovanni Carraciolo.

Jarla accepted dances from all the gentlemen who offered, feeling it best to get to know them a little better on the ballroom floor.

She did not have much time to think on this further when Irene was whisking her away to that strained encounter with Elsa Holt. Jarla stood next to her mistress feeling desperately uncomfortable as battle commenced.

"Thank you Signora," she replied to Elsa's comment directed directly at her. Looking to shift the subject and hoping to avoid a bloodbath between princess and wizardess she followed that up with: "Have you tried the wine? I believe it is exquisite."

[LCP]

Jarla found Valdes much more forthcoming on the subject of fencing than he'd seemed at first, and Al-Makir happy to regale her with stories about the wonders of Araby. Sussman thanked her for her interest in the affairs of the Vale and assured her she'd be welcome to visit again. Only with Carraciolo did she find no easy foothold for conversation, perhaps in part due to the presence of the Prince. The two old soldiers seemed to share some private jokes that left her feeling very much the outsider.

Still, the real limit to her time with these men was Irene. While she was very happy to make her gracious introductions, one couldn't keep a queen waiting on the sidelines, and so Jarla found herself pulled around the great hall like a comet orbiting the sun. No doubt there would be time to continue the more interesting conversations later, when the principessa had found something else to distract her.

"Have you tried the wine? I believe it is exquisite."

"It's acceptable," Irene corrected her. "How adorable, though, Holt, that you know the name of your tailor." She gave a brittle smile. "I suppose that's what they call the common touch."

Looking through the crowd, Jarla could see that the Prince had spotted the encounter, and was disentangling himself from a conversation with Hieronymus and the dwarfs with a concerned look on his face. Irene seemed somehow to have noticed it too, though Jarla could have sworn she hadn't broken eye contact with Elsa since the wizard had begun speaking.

"I'm sorry Holt, I believe Muzio wants me," she said. "Come along Jarla - the next dance will be starting soon."

Practically towing Jarla away, she murmured under her breath: "I do believe that's the most hideous dress I've ever seen."

OOC:

Spoiler

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Irene's going to continue gliding around Irene-ing it up, but if you want Jarla to detach from her and go do her own thing feel free to cut to that!

~

The men with Leona took turns to shake Sieghard and Burhan's hands, murmuring variations on "pleasure to meet you" one after the other. Seeing that no-one was volunteering their names, Leona took it upon herself to make the introductions.

"Uh, this is Uto," she said, indicating the young, black-haired man. "And this is Maximilian and Jorg. Commander Sieghard is an officer in the Prince's army."

The three guilders seemed much more interested in Sieghard than in Burhan. "So there really was a vampire?" said Jorg, the oldest and roundest of the three. "I hardly believed it before we received the invitations. Nahorek, you know... that was something my old nursemaid used to talk about when I was a boy. Putting witchroot over your door, and leaving a bowl of cream out for the Jackal on the first night you have a newborn in the house. All that sort of thing."

"The murder of the High Priestess was real enough," said Maximilian. "Didn't you hear about that?"

"Oh yes, of course," said Jorg, "but you know, killings are one thing... an actual honest-to-Morr blood-drinking monster is quite another! I thought there was some northern fellow involved - Jon of the Jackal?"

[-Sentinel-]

"How adorable, though, Holt, that you know the name of your tailor." She gave a brittle smile. "I suppose that's what they call the common touch."

Elsa gave a curt nod of acknowledgement. Was 'common' truly the most biting insult Irene could come up with? That must have worked well in Tobaro high society, but this was not Tobaro, and nor was this society particularly high; three out of six 'lords' in this room had likely dug a few latrines in their time and were not ashamed of it.

"I just find it wise to be polite to those you depend upon," she said, idly wondering just how many servants' spit Irene had ingested with her meals over the years.

Disappointed by the lack of effect of her earlier jabs at Irene's sidelining, Elsa considered going for the throat by directly asking what in the world had happened to Doctor Bianco, but before she could find a way to work it into the conversation, Sforza's approach made her back down. She parted ways with Irene and walked over to Sieghard, Burhan and the Putbad people, not striking up conversation immediately but ready to answer any questions they might have about the events of Nath.

[RossN]

Jarla

Jarla smirked at her mistress's comment about Elsa's dress. "Perhaps she's bewitched it so it appears stylish to the weak willed?"

Truthfully Jarla rather liked Elsa's style even if she herself tended to favour blues and greens but she wasn't being paid to have alternate opinions on Irene's rivals so she had to summon her inner bitch for these conspiratorial whispers. Maybe it was like being in Nuln again...

Jarla waited until Irene was actually distracted enough by her husband to break away gracefully and move fill her glass of wine. She had a full dance card and now that she was momentarily outside Irene's direct orbit she was wondering who would be the first to ask her to twirl around the dance floor (or she suspected in Carraciolo's case look to slip away for a discrete tumble.) She made certain to flutter her eyelashes appropriately.

While she waited for one of the gentlemen to make his move Jarla glided over to Hireonymous and curtsied before the venerable high priest. "How are you enjoying festivities Father?" The young woman had to fight off an amused smile at his presence here. She had taken a liking to the old codger, despite her theological preference for Ranald, but he hardly seemed the sort for a party.

[TheSummoner]

Sieghard

"That's the name folk around the city started calling him," Sieghard said. "The man's real name was Klammenberg. The Dwimmulsons' records say the vampire was an ancient evil that had already been slain once long ago. Klammenberg revived him and with him when they attacked the temple. He's as dead as his master now, though. After they fled the city, they parted ways and my men hunted him down."

He smiled at Elsa as she approached. "Ah, Elsa, let me introduce you. Jorg, Uto, and Maximilian," he said gesturing to each man in turn. "Elsa here is the Prince's wizard. I faced Nahorek three times, and each time she was there fighting by my side. The third, he had hidden himself away in some cursed ruins and set the dead to building a tower for him. We launched stones at him and drew him out, and when he came..." He made a gesture like raising and firing an imaginary crossbow. "Even filled with quarrels, he was as tough as he was ugly. And he was an ugly bastard, wasn't he?" he added, glancing towards Burhan and Elsa.

[-Sentinel-]

Elsa nodded. "Very tall and thin like a crane. I mostly remember his claws..." She peeled back the sleeve of her gown to show the parallel scars on her arm. "That was on our first confrontation. It's only thanks to the Shallyans that I still have this arm."

She accepted a cup of wine from a passing servant. "It was his magical power that was most formidable, though. I think even my order's patriarch, the famous Thyrus Gormann, would have had a hard time against him."


OOC

Spoiler

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Sieghard actually faced Nahorek and his minions 4 times (counting the attack on the temple, during which Elsa was at the Shallyans' hospital).

[LCP]

While she waited for one of the gentlemen to make his move Jarla glided over to Hireonymous and curtsied before the venerable high priest. "How are you enjoying festivities Father?"

“Oh - Fraulein Schreiber!” said Hieronymus, turning to Jarla in surprise. “Well, I suppose, passably well.” He looked around at the dancers and musicians. “Though I must confess, when I pictured the vampire’s defeat… this was not what I had in mind.”

Somehow the old priest seemed a little sharper than he had been when she met him at the temple, his gaze a little more penetrating. “I saw you passing by with the principessa, he said, pleasantly. “Your brother would have been pleased to see you making friends in such high places.”

~

"It was his magical power that was most formidable, though. I think even my order's patriarch, the famous Thyrus Gormann, would have had a hard time against him."

“Then may the gods preserve us from such creatures,” said Maximilian, looking away from Elsa’s scars with a shudder.

Uto nodded. “The war was bad enough,” he said. “The Reaches can do without its old monsters rising up to join the new ones.”

Clearing his throat, Burhan leaned forwards. “My friend Sieghard mentioned that you gentlemen might have some, uh, contacts upriver of the falls?” he asked.

“You’ll want to talk to Jorg” said Maximilian. Jorg stepped forwards, and the two fell into earnest conversation. Up in the gallery, the musicians struck up a new tune.

“Ah,” said Uto, looking up. “This is one of my favourites. Lady Groz, would you care to dance?”

“Why not?” said Leona with a smile, and they headed towards the assembling dancers.

~

In the centre of the dancing, Jarla was showing off her skill without the least atom of false modesty. The dance involved repeated changes of partners, growing more frequent as the music grew more lively, and, with the notable exception of Al-Makir, she passed one by one through all the gentlemen to whom she’d been introduced. The Arabyan seemed not to be taking part in the dancing - perhaps it wasn’t his style.

Steffan Sussman seemed hardly able to keep up with her, though he gamely did his best. Valdes was better matched, and complimented her grace while exhibiting some flawless footwork of his own. Carraciolo now gave her his full and undivided attention, no longer seeming to treat her as a pretty diversion.

The music changed, and Carraciolo moved on, his eyes lingering on her as he took the hand of the woman who was next in line. Jarla found herself dancing with a black-bearded young man in the attire of a merchant or guilder. She didn’t know his name, but he had a handsome set to his face.

OOC:

Spoiler

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The ball scene can go on as long as you guys want to keep it going, or conclude as soon as you want to wrap it up. Don’t hesitate to cut forward in time to later in the evening/conversations with other NPCs if that’s what you want to do.

[-Sentinel-]

Elsa was not much of a dancer, but nevertheless made an effort to dance with a few men in the room. The time for being the aloof magister was behind her; now was the time to seem approachable and put the court in court wizard. She used the opportunity to try to charm some of the Putbad merchants while name-dropping Suzana. Let them know that Suzana had a partner in the Prince's own court, and perhaps her business would improve.

Spoiler

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Charm 54 (64 if Etiquette applies): (d100)[50]
Fortune: (d100)[41]

When she had the chance, Elsa took a minute of Hieronymus's time to inquire: "Can you make something of the scroll I sent you? Even with the vampire dead, having someone in the Reaches who can read Nehekharan may prove useful."

She also asked Carraciolo—briefly distracting him from Jarla—about the situation in the Raven Hills. She preferred to ask these things here and now than at a council meeting; if the matter were brought up in front of Sforza, Elsa wouldn't put it past him to start planning a winter campaign, just to taste victory again as he had in Nath.

"Do we know who now rules in Morr's Seat? Are they likely to be trouble?"

Lastly she paid her respects to Lady Groz. "You're well rid of Falkenwald," she said. "He already had a reputation as a backstabbing opportunist, and there was always something a bit off about his associate Gunda. Why my employer trusted them with your safety is beyond me. I trust young Eberhard is well?"