A Spark of Truth, a Glint of Lies
Thirtieth Day of the First Month 294 AC
At least the beds were soft. Hermetia had no idea who had the thought of making bedding out of silk, water, and sorcery, but she liked to believe they died old, honored, and rich. They certainly deserved it. Anything that could get her back to unwind after a whole day of dealing with the madness that passed for Vialesk politics was worth its weight in true silver. It was like someone had taken a look at the elected Voices in the King's constitution and decided to make each of them a princeling.
Rule by whoever promised the mob the most and the loudest. She shivered slightly though it was not cold in the chamber. The young sorceress' reflection looked back at her distorted in walls of polished mother of pearl. Almost as warped as those tritons' vision of the realm whose emissary she was. The trouble, Hermetia soon discovered, ran deeper than supposedly convincing young tritons to die against insurmountable odds.
"Azirah," she called out without raising her voice, knowing the fury's sharp ears would be more than enough to hear her through the gilded door. "You have some experience with tyrants, right?" she added as the door opened soundlessly.
"One might say that, yes," the black armored warrior replied dryly.
"Do I look like the agent of a tyrant?" Hermetia added exasperated. "Is there something about me that just screams 'tempter of innocents into the service of cruel masters'?"
"I cannot say your manner or wardrobe is quite that eloquent, no," came the reply. "Though dressing less formally will likely help with some of the more egalitarian of the city's denizens."
The young mage turned over and set her face in her palms looking up at the fury. "I'm practically wearing a lounging robe and slippers. What do they expect me to do, walk into those meetings naked as the day I was born?"
In other company it might have been taken for an invitation, but Hermetia's few youthful attempts at taking women to bed had revealed that it was a bit like a lukewarm bath to her. It did the job well enough, but not something she cared to make a habit of.
Also she is a literal devil. That could be surprisingly hard to keep in mind when someone has spent as long guarding one's back.
A deliberate clearing of the Erinyes throat returned Hermetia's thoughts from where they had been wandering. "The tritons do not traditionally wear any ornamentation beyond those of spiritual or personal significance. Even your more restrained accouterments..."
"Bullshit they don't," Hermetia interjected. "Every last one of them was wearing a talisman against possession and charm. Not that it's a bad thing, but I don't see how they come off trying to shame others for not wearing sackcloth when they carry around that much silver."
"All of them were wearing silvered wards?" Azirah asked, the conversation falling to mind speech.
"How odd, according the preliminary financial estimates the ones you met with this morning, the Still Waves, should not have that sort of resources. There might be money to be traced if they are not as used to hiding their finances as the others."
"So you think they were given wards so I couldn't charm them with magic?" the sorceress frowned. "Whoever our true adversary is doesn't think much of my wit if they anticipated something so blatant."
At first the fury did not answer, but her next words were not ones Hermetia had expected, though perhaps she should have.
"Unless the wards have an intentional hidden flaw that opens them to enchantment or the mind arts, making them little more than dust to throw in our eyes."
Hermetia smiled. "I know a way we can test that..."
Hermetia has found evidence of irregular finances and what might be an enchanter's shell game in some of the triton groups opposing her. What does she do?
[] Keep digging into the finances
[] Inform the Vialesk authorities
[] Back off and observe
[] Write in
OOC: Hopefully it comes across that Hermetia is not really attracted to her bodyguard ,she is just comfortable with her to a degree that is usually seen in lovers. Just a minor character note in the middle of the political intrigue. Not yet edited.
