Marca Estrella: A Game of Chivalry in the Time of Archengines

[Star Anise]

[X] Take him to the practice square and have an impromptu sword practice.

 

[Cetashwayo]

It's like- here's my thinking. We don't know much about this guy. We don't know if he's a super-manipulative bastard since we know so little. He could be genuinely interested in a 'stuffy business venture' involving the parents, or he could be doing some sort of Nefarious Plot (tm). If he is, do we really want to embarrass the guy right now in case we win? It's such an odd thing, out of the blue, and comes off as aggressive, immature, and confrontational on our part.

On the other hand, if he is a good guy and we do this, we're also embarrassing him and our family name. It seems like the 'go-to' option but I don't know about it. I'll have to side with Lurker here.

However, we could also like a total pushover if we just flatter him.

[X] Angering him is pointless, but you shouldn't let him walk over you. Be witty, show him who you are.

With that in mind, I'll actually switch to wit!

 

[Crilltic]

[X] Angering him is pointless, but you shouldn't let him walk over you. Be witty, show him who you are.

 

[TranscientLurker]

[X] Angering him is pointless, but you shouldn't let him walk over you. Be witty, show him who you are.

 

[Exhack]

​

[X] Angering him is pointless, but you shouldn't let him walk over you. Be witty, show him who you are.

You lead Balduino down the path. "Your garden really is lovely." He comments, pausing by a bed of orchids, their bed a careful thing of veined machinery. "Do you tend it?"

Is that what he takes you for? Some country maiden with no interest more adventuring than gardening? Does that explain his seeming disinterest in actually talking to you? What have your parents been telling him?

"No, it's my mother's work." You look over the orchids. "I can only appreciate the results. Let me show you my garden." You turn him and gesture through the trees to the forest of wrecks and the long cypress groves. "Out there, that is mine."

He blinks, then smiles down at you. "Shall we go see it then?"

You look down at your outfit, its thin slippers are totally inappropriate for running around out there, but this is a challenge, and you must accept. "We should stay in the trees. It's quite hot at this time of the day."

"A walk will work up an appetite." He looks around. The wind has dropped, and the cypress trees shield from the worst of the dust. "You must spend an awful amount of time out in the desert."

You put your chin up and grin impertinently. "It's not as bad as you think."

"Oh?" His interest seems piqued.

"When the suns aren't too high and there's a breeze going, the air is nice. It helps to pitch a tent over digsites." You explain, your fingers drifting down to your sword belt. You thumb the raw leather idly, finding it just a bit hard to look up at him as the suns briefly frame his handsome face with their glow. His jawline is rather nicely defined, his chin jutting out in a way that you don't find displeasing, even with the grey smudge of a beard starting to grow back in. The splotchy coloring of his hair is almost mocking age, the gold riddling his hair resting about temples in particular in the same way as grey touches the hair of a much older man. You manage to keep your attention on his words nonetheless.

"You get your hands dirty?" He glances over again and smiles, his intonation ambiguous as to whether he approves or not. His smile is slightly asymmetrical from old injuries, a touch slack and biased towards his lower-right but it really only makes him seem that much more roguish.

"As much as I need to. I'm not so pretentious as to claim that labor makes people nobler, but those fine manicured hands could use a little time at a dig." You extend a hand to him, turning it over. "Not to bad is it?" You look over his hands, his nails gleam red. His hands are water-fat and well-manicured, but you can feel a distinctive pattern of calluses on the undersides of his fingers. The fingers are warm and slightly swollen, a little bruised. "I like yours as well."

"Oh, these? I'm amused." He puts his hand on yours "The lacquer is actually to protect my nails from cracking. The zither is a demanding instrument. As is pugilism."

That explains the bruising. Suddenly the musculature you thought was the product of an idly rich man doing excessive calisthenics and playing with his sword are slightly more impressive. "The fist is an instrument?"

"I'm rather dedicated to it. My knuckles are a little raw from sparring this morning, so I'm at your mercy for the moment." His mouth tilts into a grin, and he crackles the knuckles of his free hand by squeezing it into a fist to emphasize. There's a glimmer of silver among his pearly whites, another hint that he's not quite as immaculate or effortlessly good-looking as appearances might have suggested. "And I'm sure you already know it's important for every hidalgo to practice fighting arts outside of the helm of his archengine. Your instincts will be wrong if you go inside without knowledge of how to move your body in its own defense."

You nod affirmatively, softly pressing your fingers into the red skin between two knuckles, not quite trying to hurt him but wondering if he'd even react. "I know that very well. My parents are good teachers."

"And what do they teach you?" You get a little wince out of him, and earn a snort as he squeezes back. He's not trying to hurt you, but his grip is rather tight and just uncomfortable enough that you relent.

"How to react to overt attacks," you look down and poke his hand. "Subtle ones, too."

"Like?" He asks nonchalantly with a single word, making it ambiguous as to which he genuinely wanted to hear about. Possibly both. While it was technically a counter-attack, you'd hardly consider him innocent at this stage.

You raise your shoulders and put a hand at your hip, managing to grin right back at him before looking ahead to the shaded seating area in the corner of the courtyard and leading him along there. "That barb about getting my hands dirty. The metaphor about fists was a nice deflection, though."

"Metatextual, aren't we? You know in the court people who spoil the game like that are ostracized." You both make your way to the seating area, at the edge of the square where your morning practice sessions take place. A small fountain in the shape of a cherub holding a bundle of laurels and a trumpet drips water into a small reflecting pool, keeping the air there fresh and not overwhelmingly dry. You sit at the circular table, cut of the same marble as the square but still covered in streaks of pink and grey, in the little round chairs paired to it.

He does the same and takes your other hand as he sits. "They're all dreadful people and breaking them of the illusion that their word games are meaningful is cruelty."

"But are we in the court, my dear Count di Gano?" You smile, looking up at him even as you sit. He's still a few inches taller like this.

"We are not." His smile continues for a moment before his brow furrows in thought. His expression turns at once a little serious, and genuinely interested. "But hmm, tell me then. What expectations do you have of this marriage?"

"My husband to be is handsome, respected, wealthy. That he's also a duelist of some renown is cake, but I do worry that he doesn't know how to respect his wife and might trivialize her pursuits." You squirm your hands away from him and count on your fingers, counting one apiece for the first three points, two for the third and then subtract it all and ball your fist at your gripe, for emphasis.

His expression darkens a little and he looks not displeased, but at least a bit more sober. "I took those quite seriously, I'll have you know. Both times."

"Both times? I think this is the first time we've spoken at length."

"I was married once, before. You were probably a little young to remember." He blanches a little and releases one of your hands to rub the bridge of his nose. He's… embarrassed? You find your cheeks flushing and heart thumping just a little quicker, in sympathy. "And I suppose no one would have told you."

Hearing that your husband to-be has had a wife before is a bit of a shock, to say the least. Count di Gano is well-known, and you'd have thought a first wife was mentioned, unless this was all in early chapter in his life before his inheritance. You're not cowed by the prospect though, and almost comforted by the notion it means he's that much less likely to blunder through the events of your wedding (and the night).

Curiosity overcomes you, and you press the issue while you think you can get more out of him. After a split-second to reflect, you open your mouth again. "Goodness, I've never heard of this before! I'm not terribly worried about how I might measure up to your first wife, but I should like to know more of her. What was she like?"

"You remind me a little of her. She was beautiful and strong, but too clever by half when it came to people. I thought it was a charming trait." He smiles slightly. "She love to paint. I gave your parents one of her older ones as a gift- the still life of sunflowers."

Your eyes blink in recognition, as you immediately recall a work of that description in the estate. "That was her?! I love that picture. Mother had it displayed in the mezzanine."

"I'm glad you do. Do you paint?"

How do you answer?

[ ] I have other hobbies. I like to dance, collect trinkets and old weapons, fence and wrestle and drive when I'm allowed. (Talk to him about the hobbies you think he shares.)
[ ] I've taken lessons since the family's fortunes are so weighed on artifact restoration. I'm very dedicated to it, you know. (Talk about your side of the family business.)
[ ] I rather like painting. Can I show you some of my work? (Talk about your artistic side.)
[ ] Actually… (Write-in.)

And how do you intend to continue?

[ ] Hurry back to eat. You're hungry and the staff always finish meals early.
[ ] Linger in the garden until it's time to eat.
[ ] Show him the mezzanine where the painting is hanging.
[ ] Tell him a bit about yourself. You can't let him reminisce too much about his first wife or he'll get fixated.

 

[LucidProp]

[X] I've taken lessons since the family's fortunes are so weighed on artifact restoration. I'm very dedicated to it, you know. (Talk about your side of the family business.)

[X] Linger in the garden until it's time to eat.

Better not attempt to match up to his former wife.

 

[Lokar]

[X] I've taken lessons since the family's fortunes are so weighed on artifact restoration. I'm very dedicated to it, you know. (Talk about your side of the family business.)

[X] Linger in the garden until it's time to eat.

 

[Ford Prefect]

[X] I've taken lessons since the family's fortunes are so weighed on artifact restoration. I'm very dedicated to it, you know. (Talk about your side of the family business.)
[X] Linger in the garden until it's time to eat.

 

[Sirrocco]

[X] I've taken lessons since the family's fortunes are so weighed on artifact restoration. I'm very dedicated to it, you know. (Talk about your side of the family business.)
[X] Linger in the garden until it's time to eat.

Okay. Liking this guy a bit more. Still moderately concerned that he might be up to somethign shady, but the fact that he appears to be able to take our competence in stride and consider it a good thing is a plus

 

[veekie]

[X] I have other hobbies. I like to dance, collect trinkets and old weapons, fence and wrestle and drive when I'm allowed. (Talk to him about the hobbies you think he shares.)
[X] Linger in the garden until it's time to eat.

 

[BunBun299]

[X] I have other hobbies. I like to dance, collect trinkets and old weapons, fence and wrestle and drive when I'm allowed. (Talk to him about the hobbies you think he shares.)

[X] Hurry back to eat. You're hungry and the staff always finish meals early.

 

[Star Anise]

[X] I've taken lessons since the family's fortunes are so weighed on artifact restoration. I'm very dedicated to it, you know. (Talk about your side of the family business.)
[X] Linger in the garden until it's time to eat.

 

[Cetashwayo]

[X] I've taken lessons since the family's fortunes are so weighed on artifact restoration. I'm very dedicated to it, you know. (Talk about your side of the family business.)
[X] Linger in the garden until it's time to eat.

 

[Ridiculously Average Guy]

[X] I've taken lessons since the family's fortunes are so weighed on artifact restoration. I'm very dedicated to it, you know. (Talk about your side of the family business.)
[X] Linger in the garden until it's time to eat.

It draws him closer with the painting, but doesn't focus on it giving her different good points to focus on (rather than those of his dead wife).

 

[Exhack]

​

[X] I've taken lessons since the family's fortunes are so weighed on artifact restoration. I'm very dedicated to it, you know. (Talk about your side of the family business.)
[X] Linger in the garden until it's time to eat.

"I wouldn't say I have a particular talent for it, but I've taken some lessons. So much of the family's fortunes are wrapped up in buying and selling artifacts, and paint is a real part of that. Paint preserves what is, and its an important part of what was."

You think of the bright blue you saw around the frame in the desert.

"Do you have any pieces I can see?"

"I, well of course." You blush a little. You don't actually like showing people your paintings. If they praise them it feels fake, while if they don't, you feel injured. Still, it wouldn't hurt. "I store most of them in the summer house down here…" You lead him off.

"You don't hang them in the house?"

"My mother wanted to, but I think it would be too vain." You sniff. "I'm really not that good."

The summer house is in one of the greenest parts of the garden, hexagonal and cosy, the air inside is a little warm at this time of day, but not so much as to be unpleasant with the door and window open. On the walls are your pieces. You tend to draw them in pencil or charcoal first, then fill them in thick oil and acrylic paints. The delicate lines of your small brush and the straight and even color of your work with the painting knife are all in evidence.

There's some true to life images, of archengines you laboriously sketched out of heraldry manuals and history books and reassembled with your imagination, insipid still lives of whatever was for breakfast that morning in garish colors. A few people as well, but your portraiture is amateurish at best. A single tasteful nude of a comely young woman in profile carrying a banner of a long-extinct kingdom you saw on an old plaque, walking alone through burning fields- of which Aina has forbidden you from revealing exactly who was the model. Sometimes you do landscapes as well, of olive green fields and sturdy old archengines, hidalgos in uniform and other figures standing among them with banners flying.

Your favorite is a reconstruction of the sad old wreck of the Geskleithron from the fields awhile north of the estates, a ship so large that it is mistaken for a mountain range and entire caravansaries are operated from the small lakes that form deep inside the collapsed hull as a result of trapped rainwater. In your imagination, the deformation of thousands of years of rain and wind is redressed, centuries of looting undone. It floats proudly through the void in the backdrop of the system's twin stars, clad in the glossy black metal that has long since been stripped away with the hundred brilliant solar sails you imaged it must have used to fly extended from towers no longer collapsed. An archengine from your imagination, clad in cerulean and amber, stands near the prow as figurehead and defender

"Hmm." He leans close, considering. "These are excellent." He looks up at a picture of twinned archengines standing in the desert amid desolation, each an arm to a towering banner pole set between them, almost reaching to touch it before thinking better. "It makes me feel... lonely."

You're not sure how to respond to that. Having a handsome older man have a positive reaction to your art is great, but on the other hand the bittersweet smile on his face makes your reaction all the more complicated. In a few minutes maybe you'll be able to acknowledge how much you're enjoying it.

You wrap your arms around his waist from behind, leaning your entire self into the width and height of his back. "You don't need to be alone anymore. We can have more than... just an arranged marriage."

"I would like that." He turns in your embrace, lifts your face and gives you a tender kiss. His hands slip around your shoulders, tongue exploring your mouth. He tastes like brandy. You can feel your heart beating in your chest, and his beating against you through the thin fabric of his shirt. "I think I would…"

In the distance, the lunch bell begins to ring insistently. Balduino sighs, and his eyes shutter slightly, as if he remembers to be serious. "Alas, I suppose we must go back to the house."

"I suppose we must," you sigh. "If we don't, then the cook will send someone to seek us out."

"Certainly, that would interrupt any brief thrills to be had by lingering."

You blush, and he chuckles. Deciding that this is too much like letting him get the upper hand, you kiss him again. You're more getting used to it now. "Well, that means we do have until they find us."

He sighs, then gives your shoulders a squeeze. "Alas, we will eventually need to go, so why delay?" He smiles. "We can always come back after lunch.

"I guess the food will only spoil." You sigh, then link arms with him and walk up the hill. "You're the first person I've ever really shown my paintings to. I mean, people have seen the repainting I've done on artifacts, but no more than that."

"They're very fine. How much do you know about your family's business in general?"

"I try to keep at least a working knowledge of all aspects of it."

"I must admit, the economics of artifact hunting have always fascinated me, from a strictly layman's perspective. My family is in agricultural land, we own most of this world's grain supply around the eastern aquifers."

"Well, the thing to remember about scrap hunting is that everything sells, it's just how long it takes and at what price. The problem is it's really hard to tell what'll sell next. The most ridiculous things will sell, ancient chairs for instance. So many people on the Capital want chairs from a thousand years ago." You watch as birds flit through the trees above. "The really exciting things like archengine parts or ancient artillery pieces are of course a reliable seller, but they're rare. Everyone's constantly looking for those so you rarely get a find."

He nods along as you fill out more of the details. Lunch is set out on the veranda under an awning. Balduino pulls your chair out first then sits down opposite you as one of the servant's pours him a glass of wine. Asparagus in oil & vinegar is the starter. You settle down to the serious business of eating a really nice lunch, all cool foods to fight off the heat. The cook has really excelled herself today in the seasoning of the cool soup, and the fresh, plump bread buns (the only hot element present) served along with the preserved meats are especially tasty and filling.

You've finished the dessert course, and are sitting, replete, when there's a beeping from Balduino's coat. With a sigh he pulls out his watch comm, stares at the screen for a moment then frowns and puts it back. "Damn." He reaches over the table and catches your hand. "It appears I shall be leaving earlier than I planned My Dear. I hope you can forgive me."

You feel yourself fume, then sigh and give his hand a squeeze. "This mysterious business of yours?"

"Quite, but when we next meet, I shall tell you exactly what it is." He leans over, kisses you and gets up to leave. You watch him walk down to his car and speed off, feeling yourself pout. You really didn't want him to go just then. Even worse, you see the Grifon pulling into the monolithic shape of the wheeled engine-bearer, docking the worn, straight lato and buckler into slots before hunching over into disembarking stance. You're not sure why but you're in an especially bad mood with your parents right now. Perhaps it's because they kept you from someone you think you may just have fallen in love with for so long.

Still, you approach the archengine as it kneels and the cabin opens, unfurling stirruped cables that the two of them ride down to the ground.

"Welcome home." You do your best to hide your annoyance, but your mother sees through you.

"Thank you Mireia, did your date with the Count go well?" Her voice says she thinks it didn't.

"Well, actually, it went great." You kick a stone. "It's just we were interrupted. He had to leave right after lunch."

"Well, I'm sure we can arrange something for tomorrow. I believe the Count will be on planet for a while now. Tell me, how was Puerto Poco? Did you have your photograph taken?"

"Ah, well, the Don was still there, so no. I saw Miranda, and I bought some new clothes and I found something in the desert. . ." you perk, then your voice trails off at your parents appalled.

"The Don is still here?" Your mother says. Your Father walks away around the Grifon, pulling out his pocket watch, you hear him speaking into it.

"Yes. He has the flu. He isn't going to depart till he's better, Mother…"

[ ] "What's Wrong?"
[ ] "What exactly is going on?"
[ ] "What have you done?"
[ ] "Is this something to do with Balduino?"

Moreover, you still have half a day left after this conversation. Barring some sudden calamity, what are your plans for the afternoon? Multiple options can be taken but too many will be stressful and may result in failures.

[ ] Oversee restoration of the archengine you found.
[ ] Research heraldry in the family library to uncover the name and identity of the archengine.
[ ] Paint a little. You're in the mood.
[ ] Ask mother to help you calibrate the spezzante, an excuse to be able to practice in the Grifon.
[ ] Ask father to practice fencing with you.
[ ] Ask Aina and the maids to draw you a bath and spend the afternoon lazing to calm down.
[ ] Return to Puerto Poco with Aina and go shopping to get your mind off things.

 

[veekie]

[X] "Is this something to do with Balduino?"

[X] Oversee restoration of the archengine you found.
[X] Research heraldry in the family library to uncover the name and identity of the archengine.

 

[Lokar]

[X] "What's Wrong?"
[X] Oversee restoration of the archengine you found.
[X] Research heraldry in the family library to uncover the name and identity of the archengine.

 

[Sirrocco]

[x] "What exactly is going on?"

If we ask what's wrong, we'll get blown off. I can pretty much guarantee it... and we've had (and are getting) enough clues that something is amiss that it's not unreasonable to press a bit. They hear that the Don is still on-planet... and are appalled? Pushing at this level may not get us much, but it will probably get us *something*.

Pushing to the "What have you done" level, though... that's probably too far. It backs them into a corner, it's inherently insulting, and it could get ugly.

[x] Oversee restoration of the archengine you found.

From a completely OOC standpoint, I have a feeling we may need a second archengine pretty soon.

 

[Ford Prefect]

[X] "What exactly is going on?"
[X] Oversee restoration of the archengine you found.

While I'd like to get the spezzante working properly at the same time we found the protagonist robot so I want to get that working.

 

[Sirrocco]

[X] "What exactly is going on?"
[X] Oversee restoration of the archengine you found.

While I'd like to get the spezzante working properly at the same time we found the protagonist robot so I want to get that working.

Click to shrink...

...and if we wait on the install, we might wind up installing the spezzante in our robot, rather than mom and dad's.

Of course, if Mom and Dad really are betraying the Don, it may turn out that it would have been good to provide them with the spezzante sooner rather than later, but that's their problem for not confiding in us earlier.

 

[LucidProp]

[X] "What exactly is going on?"
[X] Oversee restoration of the archengine you found.

 

[Cetashwayo]

"We can always come back after lunch. <--- no quote end

Quote begin--> "I guess the food will only spoil." You sigh, then link arms with him and walk up the hill. "You're the first person I've ever really shown my paintings too. I mean, people have seen the repainting I've done on artifacts, but no more than that."

Click to shrink...

This is a thing I see some writers do but I never actually learnt about this myself. Is this a thing you can do- Balduino is speaking, you don't close his quote, then you switch to Mareia speaking with another quote? Or is that just a mistake. I really don't know.

Like, say for a different random example with the same person talking

Honor Harrington's devious treecat launched into exposition in a conference room. "I am talking right now for a long time. To break up the paragraph, but still continue talking, I do this.

"As you can see, I am still talking- and the previous quote has not been closed. I will now finish talking. I am done now." The treecat's eyes were molten fire like Jupiter in heat.

Click to shrink...

A bit of an odd tangent but w/e.

"You're the first person I've ever really shown my paintings too.

Click to shrink...

Should be to, here.

Your favorite is a reconstruction of the sad old wreck of the Geskleithron from the fields awhile north of the estates, a ship so large that it is mistaken for a mountain range and entire caravansaries are operated from the small lakes that form deep inside the collapsed hull as a result of trapped rainwater

Click to shrink...

Holy hell, that's a big ship. Are there any ships we saw earlier that were this big?! That thing must be kilometers long. Like fucking gigantic.

Also, I see your northern ship named after the North Wind ;p

With a sigh he pulls out his watch comm

Click to shrink...

Is this an old artifact or schizo tech?

"I must admit, the economics of artifact hunting have always fascinated me, from a strictly layman's perspective. My family is in agricultural land, we own most of this world's grain supply around the eastern aquifers."

Click to shrink...

I find this little tidbit interesting. Your family is really aiming high here. I become more concerned by the day about the "business". How did they manage to get this marriage? Just what did your parents do?

Perhaps it's because they kept you from someone you think you may just have fallen in love with for so long.

Click to shrink...

Huh, that was fast. How'd Mareia fall for him so fast here? Hmm.

[X] "What exactly is going on?"
[X] Oversee restoration of the archengine you found.

[INTERNAL SUSPICION INTENSIFIES]

 

[BiopunkOtrera]

(Probably my fault, I actually wrote most of this update)

 

[Star Anise]

[X] "What exactly is going on?"
[X] Oversee restoration of the archengine you found.

 

[Ford Prefect]

This is a thing I see some writers do but I never actually learnt about this myself. Is this a thing you can do- Balduino is speaking, you don't close his quote, then you switch to Mareia speaking with another quote? Or is that just a mistake. I really don't know.

Click to shrink...

It's just a mistake here. It's allowed when it's the same person talking across multiple paragraphs but I don't know why and I couldn't begin to tell you the rules on it.