Chapter 52: Vital Interests
Multitasking always puts your nerves at ease. You sweep up the lightest looking pitcher of wine on the table, two glasses, and invite Brother Fergant to drink with you. There's a happy reminder in the back of your mind that you
completely control your resistance to poison. Simply willing yourself from the outset of the night to have a high tolerance to liquor
should keep you from missing anything going on in the great hall, while allowing yourself to still loosen up a little.
While you nurse a demonically delicious white wine, Brother Fergant's mustache takes to the edge of his glass. He seems completely at ease standing by your side, so you simply make a discreet gesture towards the rest of the room. You make a serious effort to maintain eye contact, with your gaze flitting back to him each and every time he speaks in reply.
"I could use the company, Brother Fergant. Why don't you tell me a thing or two about our guests this evening?"
An almost invisible nod is made towards the leftmost side of the room, closest to where you're seated. The finest clothing and most exorbitant jewelry adorns half a dozen men and women, all gathered around a display of fruit. They're taking turns dipping wedges into cheese and some exotic, deep brown mixture. Laughter fills the air.
Your priest kneels slightly beside you, speaking right in your ear. The increased scent of wine is dizzying. "The handling of money is of ever-increasing importance to the city of gold, Father Anscham. Please forgive my presumption, but given your lengthy absence, and my unfamiliarity with your own tutelage—"
"You can speak freely, as always, Brother Fergant." The wine really is excellent. You're too stuffed to chug it, and actually take your time with a beverage for once. A little more nerves unwind themselves from your shoulders and neck. Settling deeper into your chair feels divine.
"Yes, well. The production of coin is exclusively handled by our allies in Calunoth, as you're well aware." You nod in agreement. "Our bankers here in Eadric primarily process the trade of currency. That which is pilfered from the ruins, brought in from outside our borders, older coinage, and whatever is handed down from age to age. Due to the lack of natural metals here in Corcaea, their coin reserves also can supply producers of our most vital interests in times of turmoil. Blacksmiths, and the like. Armorers. Weapon-smiths." He frowns to himself, taking a sip from his wine glass. "Which, naturally, has elevated their importance even further in days of late."
"That there," you note, glancing to Brother Fergant, then back to a gentleman with slicked-back black hair, a healthy tan, and the finest pocket watch you've ever seen. "The gentleman who's wearing silver. That is a kingly gift. His allegiance is to the crown...?"
"An astute observation, Father Anscham. Cavendish is the family name. He answers to Ser Quincy, I believe. A friend to several allies of King Magnus—" You discreetly sip at your wine. Lady Laravald mentioned Cavendish by name this afternoon, cautioning you about their greed. "—though his family is renown for their efforts in supporting the reconstruction of the surrounding countryside, and aiding relief efforts here within the city's walls. It is thanks to them that the city of shields has maintained its quarries." Briefly, he notes, "Percival Vanderholf is another upstart here this evening. That ruddy-faced gentleman with the yellow waistcoat, right over there."
"I see him." The banker is nowhere near as broad as you are, but looks well-fed. His family must have excelled even through the hardship that's plagued Corcaea this last year.
"I suspect he will want to speak with you, as his family is set to be overtaken by the Cavendish business."
You nod a little to your priest and to the mandolin on stage. Refilling your glass, you note you're still at double the pace of Brother Fergant, and make a note to slow down even further. Restraint may not be familiar to you as of late, but it's something you have ample practice with in public.
Brother Fergant actually does drag the empty chair at Harvey's side over to you. Sitting just to the side, he tilts his glass to the other tables closest to your location. "Our stone-workers are the lifeblood of our city. Their work is incredibly expensive, dangerous, and invaluable. Given how vast Eadric is, it is impossible to station quarries adjacent to every location that requires them, but you know well enough that their veins can
not be cut off no matter
where they lie. Archibald Briarhurst, Alistair Landsfelled, and the Carmichael sisters are all at odds, and all are here to lay claim to a number of quarries affected by your..." He searches for a delicate way to phrase something, then knocks back the rest of his drink. "Fuck it. The massacre, Father Anscham."
Harvey can't help but snort next to the two of you, but keeps his comments to himself. You give an appreciative glance to your knight, before scanning across the tables directly before you. With your nose to your glass, leaning back as far as you comfortably can, you almost could pass for looking relaxed.
Your citizens directly ahead look anything but. High-pitched laughter, false smiles, and catty remarks carry over the music on the air. It's a cacophony of back-handed compliments and thinly veiled threats between the five masons. You pick out Archibald's family insignia (a shield encompassed by thorns) embroidered into the right sleeve, alongside another emblem you're unfamiliar with. He must have strong allegiances with another power here in the city who's secure enough to not be here today. There's also Alistair's signet ring (which you can't completely make out from this distance, but that Lady Laravald told you is known in many circles throughout Eadric), and the Carmichael sisters are decked out in a dazzling array of gemstones (that were likely mined by their own people).
"You and Father Pevrel removed the heads of countless industries from our city in a matter of minutes. Everyone has been scrambling to fill in the gaps, to keep their operations running, and to not be too affected by the sudden loss of dozens of leaders across all of Eadric. It is necessary for replacements to arise. You could certainly
delegate things equally, but I would strongly suggest you take precautions to not upset the wrong individuals. It may be wise to hear out your people, and to judge the merits of denying some requests you are given. This is to say nothing of the guilds that these people control. The interests of thousands are being represented here tonight."
You refill Brother Fergant's glass. "Thank you for the counsel. Please go on."
"The rest of these individuals are not vying to fill in the gaps you and Father Pevrel created, but rather, they are here to unseat those who still have a foothold in your most secure industries. Many families are too old and too influential to be toppled, no matter who was at their head previously." A discreet gesture is made towards the middle of the room, to the left. "One such man looking to change the order of things is Vane Leoncoeur." Brother Fergant uses an odd accent on the man's last name. You try not to make a face at it, settling on more to drink. "He's faithful to the theocracy. Some would say to a fault. He's also helped to organize hundreds of the individuals who provided temporary guard in the last few days. I have heard none of your personal guard speak of him, but he is talked about quite frequently outside of Daybreak Citadel's walls."
You look to a balding man who might as well be carved from marble, politely sitting off to the side of three nobles. He may have come alone. The sword that he carries is emblazoned with deep red symbols that smack of the Church of Flesh, though you can't quite discern them from your distance. It's mostly covered by a short cape, and the rest of the table he's adjacent to.
"Vane has no family or titles to call his own. His zealotry— pardon the expression, Father Anscham—"
"Brother Fergant. Honesty is our creed, is it not?"
"Yes. My apologies." You're given a broad smile, and a half-empty glass is raised. "It's a pleasure to serve with you, Father."
The red-faced gentleman is likely already getting tipsy. You try not to laugh. "Likewise. What else about this Mr. Leoncoeur?"
"Ah, yes. The man is known to go after his enemies with enough zeal to make the Church of Vengeance proud. He has worked phenomenally with Father Pevrel's men, though has come under fire from more, well, merciful individuals here in the city."
"What has he done, precisely?"
"It is poor dinner conversation—"
You make a point of stabbing a nearby slab of meat, take a huge bite, and grin to your priest. "Try me."
You had almost forgotten how full you still were, but happily work through the bite of roasted deer while Brother Fergant frowns to himself. It's as good a sign as any to wean off the wine.
"Well. He was responsible for
skewering several cultists alive— alongside Father Pevrel's men— on the Night of Embers. That is what you're calling that night, is it not?"
"It is."
"An appropriate name." The darker tone to Brother Fergant's voice persists. "He volunteered to go on four expeditions into the tunnels beneath Eadric, and was seen beheading his enemies after their death. I heard rumor that he skins them if he has the time, then leaves the removed flesh in another location from the main body."
"Why?"
"As a warning. More often than not, he leaves a trail from one to the other. May Mercy be with any who have followed it."
"I see." You casually swallow another mouthful of meat at the tail-end of Brother Fergant's report. It's likely going to look like you're actually showing some restraint at the meal by pushing the rest of your plate away from you, which suits your painfully full stomach just fine.
"Are you alright, Father Anscham?" A questioning look goes to your half-full wine glass, the mildly nauseous look on your face, and the way you're discreetly letting out your belt.
You nod noncommittally, and gesture as little as you can ahead. The tables across from Vane are packed with men who boast bodies befitting of the Gods. They're surrounded by women, and are easily the loudest group present. "What of them?"
"Fletchers, bowmakers, and archers." Brother Fergant's voice takes on a haughtier tone. "They're heralded by most common men as the real fighting forces of Corcaea.
To think that one could hold a feathered stick higher than the name of Mercy? It's preposterous."
You try to not look too amused. "Who might think themselves more capable than my clergymen?"
Your priest seems to seriously appreciate the sentiment, and waves a hand in the general direction of the two broadest blonde men. Their waists are tapered almost to a point, but their backs are nearly as wide as your own. There's no doubt in your mind that they could draw back a bow with enough force to give a demon a run for its money.
"Ferdinand Guiseppe and Stanley Lovell. Both of them are
not nobles, but were raised from birth to defend them. Close allies to the King, despite their attitudes. I would mind yourself around them, Father. They have yet to speak out against Inertia—"
"Have they openly supported them?"
Surprise and dismay discolors Brother Fergant's features. "No. But their silence is just as damning, if you ask me."
"I did. Thank you." You lean back a little further, beginning to thoroughly enjoy yourself. A little wave of your hand towards the back of the room gets the attention of several people. You realize that your every move is being watched like a hawk, stop the motions, and just quietly ask, "what of the rest?"
The elderly man squints. "Transport to the back left. They wanted easier access to the door at the rear, in the event that they wanted to check on the carriages later this evening. Lenoire Mamidou Milleaux provided
all of the transport for tonight's guests, and wished for you to know that you have her family's support. She lost her mother at the hearing. Mrs. Milleaux was known as an
open supporter of Inertia in some circles."
"Which circles?" You lean over a little, refilling both wine glasses with a much lighter pitcher. It doesn't escape your notice that Walter and Harriet's own conversation has paused for a moment.
Brother Fergant leans in even closer towards you, speaking lowly enough that no one else can hear. "None of them that would have
openly allied with Inertia themselves, you understand. Most traitors and scum of that sort are too careful to be found out. But I've heard that Clarisse Biggod—" A nod is made across the room, towards a busty brunette in one of the most stunning fuchsia gowns you've ever seen. "—that
her mother used to hold meetings with
Lenoire's deceased mother. Their families are allied, as Ms. Clarisse now controls the production of a great many merchant's goods across the city. With the Milleaux's moving so much of their product, it makes sense for them to host events such as this with as many people as they could. You know. Where such conversations may take place. But whether or not Clarisse is involved in this affair— or if she merely spread word of Mrs. Milleaux's unfortunate heresy to
help Clarisse take her new, comfortable seat of influence— is uncertain."
"Why would Clarisse be here this evening, if she's so comfortable...?"
Brother Fergant's frown could curdle milk. "I believe she may wish to dispel the rumors circulating around her and her family, that they are all still allied with Inertia."
You sigh deeply, and sip a little more at your glass.
The blush across your face probably isn't going anywhere, as you stare down a stunning blonde at the furthest end of the room. Her curls are done up around her shoulders in a way that's reminding you all too much of Mercy. "Who's she? The one in the blue dress, near the stuffed deer by the front door?"
"Catherine Goguenard. Her family is also heavily involved in trade and production of goods. While the Biggod's handle exotic materials and finer goods, the Goguenard's specialize in mundane manufacturing, and imports from the capital. She's directly involved with the royal family, and may have settled down here to escape from her own scandal in Calunoth."
You don't recall Lady Laravald mentioning any of her sisters being here. You're not normally a gossip, but you seriously want to make something of tonight, resolved to get involved in your city's politics (to start), and figure it couldn't hurt to lean in a little closer.
Brother Fergant whispers to you, "she was said to have helped a pair of incestuous twins escape from King Magnus' castle just a few years past."
You almost spit out your drink, cough, and wheeze, trying with every fiber of your being to not let on that you also helped the two incestuous lovers get out from under King Magnus' nose. They're two members of your blasphemous congregation, and you've nearly died on at least three occasions to protect Starlight and Stardust with everything you have.
"Father Anscham...?" You're pat firmly on the back. "I know, I know, it's alarming. Lady Catherine's allegiance with these perverted traitors has followed her well from the capital to here, yet she has done quite well for herself. I have no idea what motive she could have had for enabling these two to run, but I suspect her business here tonight may be to find some way for you to pardon her."
You know full well that Stardust— King Magnus' idealistic son, known to most as Ser Allan Douglas— actively sought to kill his father in order to retake the throne. He wants to bring about an end to the war raging on Corcaea's borders. Starlight— more commonly known as Lady Edith Douglas— risked life and limb to support Stardust in his ventures. Any ally to them supports betraying your King.
You do like the King, but you also love your children. Helping Starlight and Stardust to hide to the deep south— in the Church of Dream, with Father Wilhelm's help to grant them asylum— is not something you can breathe to another soul about. Talking to
anyone about their situation is out of the question, but this could also be someone who's a direct threat to the theocracy.
"You have garnered quite the reputation, Father Anscham. Your compassion is renown far and wide. I presume that our guest here tonight—" A stiff look is given to Candace. "—is further evidence of your piety. It is commendable. If I'm to be honest, Father, I could not bring myself to do the same in your position."
You're a little tipsy, manage to stop coughing, and wrap Brother Fergant into a half-hug with just one arm. "Your service to the Church of Mercy is deserving of
just as much praise."
He awkwardly returns the half-hug with a pat on your back, and you both part.
"If I may make a suggestion, Father?"
"Please."
"You asked for my honesty, but please, forgive the impropriety." A weary, patient look meets you at eye-level only. "Not that you do not look, well, the best I have ever seen you—"
"Thank you."
"Yes. Well. To minimize the amount of heckling or disparaging remarks given to you this evening, I would suggest you minimize how much time you spend with others during the feast. No one may have the gall to say anything to your face, but backhanded remarks and cutting looks can be just as cruel as words openly spoken— if not more so."
>
A,
B, and
C are mutually exclusive.
>Since the sub-categories under A and B are identical, they may be combined if it makes sense to do so.
>Otherwise, majority vote will decide.
>
A] You seriously are fine, can handle yourself, and will keep your temper in check. Go out and meet a few of these people. You have a particularly strong interest in...
>1] Ser Quincy Cavendish. Banker. Set to take over most of the coin trade in Eadric.
>2] Percival Vanderholf. Banker. Opposed to the Cavendish family's success, seeking to diversify banking in Eadric.
>3] Archibald Briarhurst. Mason. Strongly allied with a secure, powerful family in Eadric.
>4] Alistair Landsfelled. Mason. Influential and popular among the people.
>5] The Carmichael sisters. Masons. Obscenely wealthy, traders of gemstones.
>6] Vane Leoncoeur. Killer. Vying for leading the protection of your people, potentially as captain of the guard.
>7] Ferdinand Guiseppe and Stanley Lovell. Bowmen. Silent about their affiliation— or lack thereof— with Inertia.
>8] Lenoire Mamidou Milleaux. Wheelwright. Member of an influential and wealthy family, possibly thanks to her mother supporting Inertia.
>9] Clarisse Biggod. Merchant. Close allies with the Milleaux family, handles exotic materials and finer goods.
>10] Catherine Goguenard. Merchant. Ally of Starlight and Stardust, handles mundane goods and imports from the capital.
>
B] You are sick and tired of being given shit about your weight, and can handle yourself. If anyone gives you a hard time, you'll match them jab for jab. Go out on the floor of the great hall to meet...
>1] Ser Quincy Cavendish. Banker. Set to take over most of the coin trade in Eadric.
>2] Percival Vanderholf. Banker. Opposed to the Cavendish family's success, seeking to diversify banking in Eadric.
>3] Archibald Briarhurst. Mason. Strongly allied with a secure, powerful family in Eadric.
>4] Alistair Landsfelled. Mason. Influential and popular among the people.
>5] The Carmichael sisters. Masons. Obscenely wealthy, traders of gemstones.
>6] Vane Leoncoeur. Killer. Vying for leading the protection of your people, potentially as captain of the guard.
>7] Ferdinand Guiseppe and Stanley Lovell. Bowmen. Silent about their affiliation— or lack thereof— with Inertia.
>8] Lenoire Mamidou Milleaux. Wheelwright. Member of an influential and wealthy family, possibly thanks to her mother supporting Inertia.
>9] Clarisse Biggod. Merchant. Close allies with the Milleaux family, handles exotic materials and finer goods.
>10] Catherine Goguenard. Merchant. Ally of Starlight and Stardust, handles mundane goods and imports from the capital.
>
C] You don't have the patience for childish remarks and gossip right now. Besides, you can talk with your guests more during the dance. Heed Brother Fergant's advice, and spend the remainder of the feast with your friends and allies.
>1] Make sure that Harvey is doing okay. He's risked his life for you countless times in the last few weeks alone, and could probably REALLY use tonight to unwind with a buddy.
>2] You're extremely grateful towards Brother Fergant for everything he's done. Get to know him better! Maybe you could both talk about Father Edmund?
>3] Don't interrupt Walter's and Harriet's work, but thank them again for coming tonight, and see if they can involve you in their discussion.
>4] Stick to your guns, and give Candace some extra attention. Now is as good a time as any to talk about her plans for the future.
>
D] Write-in (anything else you might want to add to bolster any of these prompts).
