[X] Go. (Will cost 1 Month, will answer the request of the Minister of the Interior, ???)
You huff, and call everyone in for a meeting that night. Well, this certainly was an opportunity, and you weren't going to pass it up. When your motley crew assembles, you let them know that the King was holding a ball. Everyone of note was invited, and that meant your group had to pack up and jaunt off to the capital in a month. Code of conduct was to be noble formal.
Kerrie stiffened, smile evaporating from her cheeks, as she settled into her polite mask of neutrality. Tekla audibly groaned, already tired and exasperated by the imposition of social mores that he had all but flounced out of when he was younger. Ophelia started quietly panicking about being a peasant girl being called before a literal audience of dukes and kings - and of course, Cormag was busy trying to soothe her and help her sort out what to do and what to wear. After all, in his view the nobility weren't so different that the same customs would not apply - the trappings of nobility were only a coat over the same inner truth, which you understood to be his views on spiritual power as well, one you happened to disagree with him about.
You insisted that the spiritual world was too fragmented for the theological reasoning of multiple larger conceptual spirits expressing themselves through multiple facets to hold water - Cormag countered that the world was too ordered for the unity of conceptual spirits to not exist, and as far as you could tell it was going to be one of those things you would be trading arguments over well into both of your old ages. You supposed this mirrored your view on the people in this kingdom - but then, that was probably treading on ground to dangerous to even think, considering where you ordered peasants, nobles, and kings.
Well, best to get on with the preparations. Never waste a perfectly good trip, in your view.
You step out in the middle of the night, when it's Cormag's turn to show Ophelia how to do a night watch. You don't doubt that the whole thing will be distracting, and on the best of days Cormag could never hope to catch your movements anyway. Besides, it was good to be outside the wagon, which you noted was more expensive than you thought wagon rides ought to be - perhaps it was simply wartime need, but it still niggled at you.
Regardless, you had a very pointed message to leave to the local tax collector, after you had seen the ransacked churches - gods above and spirits below, you had seen plenty of greedy and plenty of stupid, but attempting to rob the very spirits themselves while simultaneously paying the Crown in tainted silver to enrich themselves was just about the worst of the lot, and you intended to see a swift justice done.
Well, actually, you intended to leave your target alive but fully cognizant of the fact that one of the spiritually-aligned champions had seen what she had wrought and left her with a message.
But...that report about brigands seemed to float itself before your eyes now, even as you carried the slumped body of the tax collector on your back to the church she had ordered ransacked, you wondered.
Those brigands seemed to be targeting nobles and tax collectors specifically, rather than preying upon the common people - many merchants had chosen to reroute around the clearly dangerous province, but those that were too desperate or foolish to plunge through seems to have mostly made it through.
Hmph. Something to consider after this case and ball was well and fully wrapped up, you expect, as you carefully put back the looted artifacts and leave her slumped in the pew. With a gesture of your wand, you invoke a still rune in the air, with a line balancing atop three triangles and a crown above that.
She would get the message, when she came to.
Considering the letter, you decide that you want to get the meeting with the Minister of the Interior dealt with first, find out what exactly he wants from the Finance Ministry's agent.
Minister of the Interior Lilianne Cecille, however, is not pleased to see you - but it is in that subtle noble way, the flash in the eyes before the rest of the face is smiles and the body language is welcoming you into a room where she sets her desk above a human of normal height sitting in a chair, let alone you.
"Ah, Agueda, I'm glad you could answer my request," she says. "Please, make yourself feel welcome."
You bow and sweep your forelimb in an approximation of a bow, even as your eyes dance with barely concealed contempt for each other. You quickly hop into one of the chairs, still needing to stand at attention in order to pull yourself above the desk.
"I will gladly do so," you say, tilting your head just a few degrees. "How could I refuse a request of a fellow agent of the Crown asking so politely?"
Her smile tightened for only an instant, but your eyes catch it.
"Naturally," she said, "it's only right to treat you with the respect you're due."
Hmph. Another poorly-disguised insult. You were starting to regret allowing this woman to believe she had power over you.
"Of course, then, surely you would not mind if I treat you with the same courtesy?"
She simply quirked her eyebrow, and pretended as though you had said nothing.
"I suppose it is customary to offer civil guests tea," she says, breezily changing the discussion. The scent hits your nostrils, and you control the urge to instinctively flinch back from the obnoxiously pungent scent. "I happen to have a lovely supplier of lemon chamomile tea," she says, worded so carefully had you not known better you would have thought it was unintentional.
"Of course," you amicably say. "I would be more than happy to sample your hospitality."
She smirks, and she thinks she has her victory.
"No, no, I insist," she emphasizes, pouring out one cup for you and one cup for her.
"Very well," you say. Before you can regret it, in one motion you pick up the cup, swill it, and choke the drink down your throat before the smell and the pungency can violently react with your sense of smell and taste. "It was delicious," you baldly lie.
"Truly?" she said, believing you in pain. You were, but you weren't going to let her win. "I suppose this must be one of the exceptional qualities I have heard you possessed."
"I would welcome the opportunity to give you some personal demonstrations, if you would prefer, " you mirthlessly rejoinder.
"Very funny," she coldly says, "but I must firmly decline the attempt on my honor. In the interests of the business which I called you here for, I need someone with a great deal of discretion and the ability to go unnoticed at this reception."
You don't miss how she continues to emphasize her control over you as she lays out her requirements - most likely to spy on some VIPs.
"This reception is a large event, with dignitaries all over the kingdom coming to pay respects. Crucially, there are foreign dignitaries here as well. I want you to watch over them, to listen in on their conversations, and report back to me. I expect that you understand the precarious position your...people are in, and will perform your duties accordingly," she dismissively said. "Are we clear, Agueda?"
You wryly smile.
"I will perform my duty to the Crown as requested," you coldly retort.
She blinked, and scoffed for just a moment.
"Very well, then. I won't hold you from your...proclivities any longer."
You bow, and slowly leave the room.
At the boundary of between "too late for lunch" and "too early for dinner", the delegates are called into the hall and the streets. Your delegation, made up of nonhumans and peasant stock besides, are naturally relegated to the back of the hall near one of the side doors, very much only one or two people away from being outside the door entirely despite being an esteemed Duke family guest.
But that suits your own party just fine. Cormag finds the low regard comforting, while Tekla sees it as a grand excuse to treat the trappings of nobility with all the lack of care it deserves. Ophelia is harder to initially get a read on - you remembered the awkward incident where you had to tell Ophelia-Oskaria in no uncertain terms that it would be a bad idea to introduce herself to this hall, and risk upstaging the actual main event - but you feel like she too is more comfortable in obscurity, to say nothing of Kerrie herself.
And for you, it lets you observe the entire crowd without being noticed yourself.
You note the fine embroidery, the youth of the remaining nobles as their fathers and brothers have been spent in the Crusade. You note the large gathering of wives and women, here for much the same reason. Then you look at the delegations assigned seating, and you note how many of those were cooling on the idea of King Julius' continued reign, and you huff quietly.
The trumpets sound, and everyone snaps to attention. First through are the noble heroes, the ones important enough to not be part of the seated nobles but rather the processional nobles as their own group altogether. Those faces quickly give way to less familiar, but foreign faces all the same. You categorize them by reputation - one has the braided grey hair, military uniform, and aura intimidating enough to have to be none other than the new leader of the coalition, the legendarily undefeated Rusmysian general Ioann Kirilov, while the other possesses the red spear that supposedly always wounds its target. You're sure that should his name come up, it would be important - but for now, it is not.
Finally, the most important members of the delegation arrive. First to appear is Antonin Perrier - reasonable, for he is the vanguard, the King's Pillar - and then the King follows him, flanked on either side by adventurers of stature and aura only comparable to the pressure Antonin and Kirilov seemed to ooze. You did not know their names, but you knew the woman to the left marched in dress whites with a ceremonial musket hoisted over her shoulder, while the tanned man to the right wore green vestments over his armor and sheathed an overly large battleaxe to his back.
Behind the King is none other than the name you've heard whispered for hours, the Emir Valois who had single-handedly brought a Dragon to its knees. You feel the shift in the air, as though all the room weighs his unadorned form and expression save the sheathed blade upon his waist. The response, in one instant's evaluation and dismissal. The air that he seemed to carry with him had a weight that the others seemed to lack, just that subtle difference that you could simultaneously detect and could not.
Finally, one last one you had not recognized.
A knight with golden hair and blue-green eyes like the ocean followed behind them, dressed in full plate harness that seemed embroidered with living fire. It must be a testament to the magical power of the wielder to run such a thing continuously, and the control enough to keep it a mere hairs-breadth from their own skin. You're almost tempted to dismiss her, when you realize that she does not seem as casually powerful as the other leaders of the delegation, but you realize that such a thing would be unwise - and besides, you have made it a habit to automatically commit to memory the vast majority of the faces you see.
The rest of the ceremony, once the lead players have been assembled, feels almost perfunctory - the standard prayers, the rote deliverance of the news of the war, and the undoubtedly embellished story of the final confrontation with the Dragon in the final months of summer.
For great valor in battle, apparently, the group handpicked by Antonin Perrier as the King's Pillar would be formally inducted as the elite unit of adventurers, the King's Four Pillars, the ones who would uphold his rule the most. The leader would naturally fall to the previous leader of the group, Antonin Perrier. Ludivine Renault, the musket wielder, and Ludovic Chartier, the axe-wielder would be elevated to the position of being one of the King's Four Pillars, and receive special honors.
However, the most important honor would be reserved for the man who had slain the Dragon in single combat - the invincible Emir Valois, who would receive the recognition as first among the Pillars for his meritorious service.
Finally, one last matter remained - the knight in the red armor, who had thus been unnamed.
Emir Valois simply turned around, and even the King took a backstage to the display.
The knight in red silently walked up to the dais, red lightning crackling off of the armor.
Heavily, the knight took a knee, as Emir Valois drew his sword. The armor slammed into the ground, as if the red knight had brought low by the weight.
The drawn sword comes down upon the left sword of the knight.
"Do you so swear, that you shall adopt my responsibilities as your own?"
"Yes," the knight says.
The blade descends upon the left.
"Do you so swear, that you shall adopt my alliances and cherish my friends as your own?"
"Yes," the knight says.
The blade rises again.
And then when it descends again upon the knight's crown, the crowd audibly gasps.
"Then, do you so swear to take up my name?"
The silence stretches on.
"Yes," the knight finally says.
"Then, I adopt you as my own, Tara Valois," Emir Valois orders. "Let all who object raise their voices now, so that I may better lower them," he decrees, and you feel mortal terror for brief moment. Before the reassuring thought that he did not mean you briefly finds its way into your mind. The silence ringing throughout the audience hall rings as his endorsement.
"Very well. Rise, Tara Valois, and take up your position as my heir," he stiffly recites, bringing his sword to the sheathe. When Tara stands up in full, the sword slides back into the sheathe to audible relief, and Emir moves in to embrace his new heir.
Applause rains down from the halls, and is magnified when the King, pale of face and yet beaming like he was twenty years younger, declares the ceremony to be lifted, and the feast to begin.
This has been a deeply strange series of events, apparently. Emir Valois has always had somewhat of a reputation for a loner, but to then turn around and adopt a knight in distinctive red armor that no one has seen before literally every noble in the kingdom is perplexing, to say the least. It is the most common talk in this reception, and you suspect it will be for a quite a while after that.
This grand reception will last three days - and in each you will be able to interact with or deal with three people. The rest must go to preparations or interactions with people who want something vapid from you - and many do want something as foolish as wondering what your price for betraying the Crown is. Many of these prompts are simply that - prompts. Should you not choose them (with a few key exceptions), they will not happen.
Choose 3.
[] Emir Valois
Something about this man bothers you, and when you advanced towards him, he decided to make contact as well, inviting you to a walk.
[] Antonin Perrier
You decide to go connect with the King's Pillar that you know better, and he seemed to be friendly to your approach. Maybe you can catch up on the events of the past years.
[] Countess Natalia
It's been a year, and you were quite impressed with her work the last time you visited her province - you'd like to know how she's doing now.
[] Ophelia
You wonder how she is adapting to the pressures of the reception - perhaps it would be best to check in on her.
[] The Meeting
Ioann Kirilov, the red spear-wielder, and other foreign dignitaries are meeting together. Find out what they're talking about. Intrigue: 30 or Stewardship: 27.
[] Lilliane Cecille
Quite aside from your professional loathing of this woman, she made quite a few attempts to distance herself from the King. Find out why. Intrigue: 29.
[] The Spirits
You know there are spirits here, some of them quite powerful - perhaps this is an opportunity to secure a tentative agreement? Piety: 28.
[] The Nobles
There is also a vast collection of nobles here, and where there's nobles, there's gossip and blackmail to be found. Intrigue: 20.
[] The Learned
Among the notables called up to this reception include many learned but not noble citizens, a source of wealth and legal information in their own right - and it certainly would help to discuss things. Diplomacy: 20.
[] Besim Rosenberg
You spot one Besim Rosenberg at this assembly, and worse, you think he's spotted you too. Ugh. Best to deal with this interaction as efficiently as possible. Diplomacy: 35.
[] Lucilius Sarkozy
He eyes you with an undisguised contempt, but you have something more valuable - ironclad proof of his crimes. You have the chance to cut him a deal in order to make sure that the Crown still gets paid - without ruinous expenses, legal or otherwise. Diplomacy: 24.
