14th of Culminations through 19th of Culminations, in the fifth year of the reign of House Redwater, on Alshain Magna and Al Niyat
Marcus Laurent, staring at the desk-screen in blind panic, knew that he did not, in fact, cause the crash. That whether or not he was there, the crash had far more significant causes than a barely-noticed change of who the head of a still-small-and-growing House's Mercantile section was. That didn't stop the blame coming to him from all sides--and from inside himself.
It couldn't be a coincidence, could it, that Vincent left and things fell apart? Sure, Vincent hadn't been pleasant to work with, but most of the people were used to him, and Marcus sometimes felt as if he were made of knives, cutting and cutting everyone around him. How had Salamah trusted him, why had he trusted him? Didn't Salamah know that Marcus would be crushed by this!
He slumped in the comfy seat of the interplanetary transport that was taking him to Al Niyat for an emergency meeting.
Several minor local parties had been revealed as double-dealing and corrupt and that, combined with a scandal involving a false plague scare. And there was the simple fact that the boom that had started five months before was entirely unsustainable. Hundreds of thousands were out of work already. And it was going to get worse long before it got better. The prosperity had led to rising prices, and dozens of unions across the planet had gone on strike at the beginning of Culminations, demanding a cost-of-living adjustment to match the growing economy. And then, just as suddenly, even their current pay wouldn't be afforded. That would be a few hundred thousand more, probably. Then there were the riots, and the disasterous interview with Senator Herrin, who had been her usual charming self.
And then there was that eruption...
It was a mess, and looking down at the notes, at the way the profits had dropped through the floor, he knew there were no simple solutions.
*****
"We can still save it," said the Chairman of the Al Niyat Art Institute, "And we can also save the Narcotics division," he said, nodding at his colleague, "If we just cut a few things here and there...the contracts for next year are already submitted for finalization...there's nothing the shippers and workers could do to stop us from cutting their benefits, a bit, and they'd still have their jobs..."
Marcus, who had been having this conversation for the past four hours, groaned and said, "No. We close down the art institute, we let everyone go with full benefits and a months salary and--"
When Salamah made decisions like that, everyone started nodding in agreement or acceptance. Here, they all started yelling at once. The conference room was filled with twenty people, and suddenly nineteen of them were yelling at the bewildered twentieth man, or thrusting holo-plans in his face, filled with ideas of how to make it all work without having to really change anything. It washed over him as he trembled, seeming to shrink in his seat.
Finally, after a dozen more minutes he shook his head, "We are closing down the Narcotics trade, but not the facility. The Al-Niyat art institute is also going down, and if anyone doesn't like it, they can quit!"
He hadn't expected anyone to actually quit, let alone half of the directors, leaving him alone with eight other resentful men and women. "What are we going to replace all of that lost revenue with?" The Narcotics trade had been making a slim profit, unlike the art industry.
Marcus felt ill. Not only had he lost half of the planet's top people, but his brother had relied on the art institute as a funnel for pieces into his soon-to-be opened Museum, and the name of the Institute had already been printed up--with fully three-dimensional advertising--in all of the programs for the opening ceremonies, only twenty-one days off. It sounded like a lot of time, but it wasn't, really. "We're..." he trailed off, groaning. He hated hard work, but at this point, nothing but it was going to salvage a damn thing. "Get me everything you have on the current economy, and all the records from all the trades we've made on Al Niyat and I'll...I'll figure something out," he said without much confidence.
*******
24th of Culminations through the 26th of Culminations, in the 5th year of the reign of Yale Redwater, Al Niyat
Marcus had forgotten how good booze tasted. It wasn't of any recognizable vintage, but he hoped it would fortify him for the (luckily one-way) message he was going to send Salamah. Since it would taken a few hours to go through the transmission queue and get there, that would give him an excuse to avoid hearing a reply right away, especially since he was already tipsy by the time he pushed play.
He outlined his situation hotly, annoyance clear in his voice, and summarized all that he'd learned: a damn lot of information, inferences and ideas, but most of it useless, and then moved to get out of the way the most important matter in order to get to what he was really looking forward to...yelling at Salamah from a safe distance with no way for the Duke to reply back...at least not yet.
He'd determined that some, but not all, of the money might be made up in a slightly off-kilter field. Luxury items and goods. It wasn't what one would expect considering the crash, but those who had emerged untouched suddenly wanted to show it off, and Laurent Trading could be the supplier to all the companies and groups whose target demographic was out-of-touch-rich-idiots. The profits wouldn't be amazing, but they'd keep what remained of the Al Niyat business afloat.
"But," he said, chugging some more, spilling it all over his already-dirty shirt, his eyes as red as a gaping wound, "I shouldn't have to do this shit, you asshole! I shouldn't be here in this..."
He ranted on and on for a full hour, ending it with, "And I'm not sorry, and I hate you, and I would have been better off if you had just left me back on Canopus!"
Four hours later, almost sober, and having had to be bailed out--after punching a bystander in the head--by one of his subordinates, he was starting to regret what he'd said. He checked to see whether there was a response.
The next day passed, no response.
And then on the twenty-sixth the message was, "I have received your communication," Salamah said without a hint of emotion one way or another, "Note you will not be allowed back into the compound drunk. Have a good trip."
Angrily, Marcus reached for the hooch.
***********
24th of Culminations through the 26th of Culminations, in the fifth year of the reign of House Redwater, Alshain Magna
Salamah stared at the wall, and reached for the wine, taking a carefully small sip. He wanted to fire back with angry words, or...or something, and the fact that this was his first hot instinct meant it was no doubt the wrong reaction.
So he took out the date Marcus had sent, and began to marvel. A thousand implications, ideas, suggestions, not all of them good, and none of them huge on their own, leapt into life. The mining industry on Al Niyat had been battered horribly by the crash, even though, already, there were signs that the economy was beginning to pick itself up. He could scoop. up facilities on the cheap, use easy-bought data to all but find directions to untapped and somewhat undiscovered veins. There was wealth in that volcanic world.
And the fact that Al Niyat wasn't actually having a love affair with its Senator might be just a brief problem, nothing important, or it could be a way in. And the decision to switch to luxuries had been an inspired one, really.
And yet that rant, and the way...
He called his wife, and she picked up. Her smile faded into nothing at his face, and Salamah said, bluntly, "Marcus is cracking and breaking. If he is torn to pieces by this," he promised, "There will be consequences. Dire ones." He checked that the connection is secure, "I am fully willing to destroy any cancerous, harmful entity that is tearing my family apart. I will not hold back, and I have long learned that mercy is a strength best cultivated by the well-bred." He looked deep into where her eyes would be, his face hard and without the least semblance of mercy.
She had suddenly realized that not only would he go through with it, he wouldn't hesitate for a moment. She cut the connection with a nod, looking sick, and drained.
And then he spent a long time trying to figure out what to say.
In the end, he couldn't find the words, so simply said.
"I have received your communication," and here he had to fight to keep the tears, the shouts, the emotion from his face. He could hardly stand it. "Note you will not be allowed back into the compound drunk. Have a good trip." He couldn't find any other words and, in desperation, he shut it off, tried again a dozen more times, and each was worst than the last. Finally, realizing he'd already stalled for two days, he sent off the first, and put his head in his hands.
Cast:
Marcus Laurent, 38: The alcoholic brother of Salamah Laurent, suddenly thrust into a role he was entirely unprepared for, Head of the Mercantile arm of the Laurent family.
Salamah Laurent, 50: A man who loves his brother, and cannot say it, hates his wife, and will not say it, and despises fools, and should not say it.
Jamilla Laurent, 57: Salamah's wife. Her well meaning attempt to help Marcus seems to have gone wrong, as evidenced by her realisation that she is married to a man who would murder her if her accidents, however intentional, led to Marcus' self-destruction.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Saturday, July 6, 2013
Pilgrim's Progress
13th of Culminations, in the 5th year of the Reign of Yale Redwater, Alshain Magna
Salamah had given Vincent a truly staggering amount of latitude in deveoloping the trading businesses, and that included facilities. Vincent had an entire wing of the expanded 'womb' his to control as lord-and-master.
For some reason known only to him, he preferred it practically frozen. Salamah had on short sleeves, and it was a stretch of his acting abilities to pretend he wasn't entirely miserable. His body was unaugmented, and it was only his will that kept him from shivering. He moved with a purpose, past peons scurrying to-and-fro, going about their business. They moved out of the way, as a minnow keeps away from the sharks. And like a shark, Salamah was not interested in taking a bite out of such meagre prey.
He pressed his palm against the door scanner, and stepped into a clean, sleek room containing half-a-dozen people in star-patterned Sathraist robes, and at their center playing with the incredibly expensive computer-table (it could hold the equivilent of a million books worth of data easily, record conversations, analyze patterns, it was wasted on Vincent, perhaps, but useful) was the Head of Mercantile himself. He looked less rumpled than usual, and he seemed to have even bathed. How had Salamah known that it was that damn Sathraism, again?
His eyes though, looked as weary as Salamah felt. "Hello, your Grace," he said, distractedly.
"You requested to speak to me?" Salamah asked carefully, his voice level. It wasn't a request, but a demand, worded as rudely as possible--but he knew that Vincent wouldn't understand this.
"Yes, yes. I figured you'd need to pick someone," Vincent said, pressing something and sending up a holographic picture of Chara for a moment. Chara, the heart of Sathraism, where the Great Nexu of the Void was, Chara, a crime ridden, hot, dry world where 1/3rd of its population practiced Sathraism. The perfect world for a religion of the stars to come into being, perhaps, Salamah had thought with cynicism, because there was nothing worth looking at on the planet, so why not the stars?
"Pick someone for what?"
"To temporarily replace me. I'm going on a Pilgrimage, it's part of continuing up the ranks..."
"You just became a Captain," Salamah said, his pulse pounding, resisting yelling, "And you have work to do. You can't leave, not now, not for..."
"Four months at least, probably more..."
Salamah stared at him, "I'll disown you..."
"You can't and won't, Your Grace. Your wife told me so in a conversation we had via hologram" he said earnestly. "Now, you should pick someone to replace me. And a transport..."
**********
"You lying..." he growled, his face entirely without pretense, "You lying...how dare you?!" He was yelling into the hologram, talking to his wife as if she was there...except if she was there the temptation for attempted murder would have been even stronger.
"What is it dear?"
"You know! You talked to Vincent and suddenly he feels it is okay to run off and do his bullshit religion thing," he was so angry he wasn't even being polite about it. He had nothing against Sathraism in particular, except that it was a religion, and he had no time for those. "Suddenly he wants me to put Marcus in control, just as we'll finally opening up Al Niyat! And you helped him...again! Explain yourself."
She looked at him, seeming almost pleased by his reaction, "Marcus needs this."
"So this is about Marcus, not about the business?"
"It is about both. Marcus might be sometimes lazy, and not Prince-charming, but he has more ability than you give him credit for, and he's sharp and bright."
"And a horrible alcoholic that has only stayed sober for a year because we don't give him the chance to change that."
"He deserves a chance. I think the responsiblity will be good for him."
"It will crush him," Salamah stated.
Jamilla stared at him for a long time before smiling, "You really do love him."
"Yes, he is family," Salamah said impatiently.
"No, not like that. If a random cousin showed up, you'd treat them well, maybe even love them...but you've known Marcus for decades, you all but raised him, if my sources are correct...you need to stop coddling him: he had too long of a childhood, and suddenly he was eighteen and he had to marry and become an adult."
"It will crush him," Salamah repeated. "He won't be able to stand it and I will not have my brother self-destructing again. I can't lose him," he finally admitted, "Not now, not after we've gone so far. Not like I lost Aaqilah." He felt raw, vulnerable, and tired, and more than anything he wanted her to stop, to stop pressing, and stop knowing him.
He wanted her to know nothing about him, and yet here she was...
"You didn't lose her. She lost herself. She made her choices, and they ended the way they ended. It was her fault, and you should stop blaming yourself."
"She was right," Salamah said quietly, "When she accused me of being a coward unable to stand up for what I belived she was...then...right." It was painful, and he stopped, pausing and saying, "He can't handle it."
"If he can't handle it, then he never will. Marcus will do fine, it's not as if he has to start up a whole new business. There is a stable core of business, and there is a lot of room for expansion in Al Niyat, he'll be fine."
And so Salamah lost, and Vincent left, and Marcus became Head of Mercantile.
Four days later, the economy of Al Niyat collapsed in the span of hours.
Cast
Vincent Laurent, 38: A Captain of the Faith of Sathraism, he is going on a long pilgrimage of meditation and contemplation, leaving everyone else to desperately scramble to deal with his sudden departure. There is a reason his faith has to do with stars, and not other people, or basic courtesy.
Duke Salamah Laurent, 50: A man who cannot save anyone, no matter how hard he tries.
Jamilla Laurent, 57: Salamah's hated wife, who knows him far too well for his own comfort.
Marcus Laurent, 39: Salamah's kid brother, raised by Salamah since Marcus was only one, he is a (not at all recovering) Alcoholic who lies around the house all day serving no function except to exist as Salamah's brother, and a reminder of his past.
Salamah had given Vincent a truly staggering amount of latitude in deveoloping the trading businesses, and that included facilities. Vincent had an entire wing of the expanded 'womb' his to control as lord-and-master.
For some reason known only to him, he preferred it practically frozen. Salamah had on short sleeves, and it was a stretch of his acting abilities to pretend he wasn't entirely miserable. His body was unaugmented, and it was only his will that kept him from shivering. He moved with a purpose, past peons scurrying to-and-fro, going about their business. They moved out of the way, as a minnow keeps away from the sharks. And like a shark, Salamah was not interested in taking a bite out of such meagre prey.
He pressed his palm against the door scanner, and stepped into a clean, sleek room containing half-a-dozen people in star-patterned Sathraist robes, and at their center playing with the incredibly expensive computer-table (it could hold the equivilent of a million books worth of data easily, record conversations, analyze patterns, it was wasted on Vincent, perhaps, but useful) was the Head of Mercantile himself. He looked less rumpled than usual, and he seemed to have even bathed. How had Salamah known that it was that damn Sathraism, again?
His eyes though, looked as weary as Salamah felt. "Hello, your Grace," he said, distractedly.
"You requested to speak to me?" Salamah asked carefully, his voice level. It wasn't a request, but a demand, worded as rudely as possible--but he knew that Vincent wouldn't understand this.
"Yes, yes. I figured you'd need to pick someone," Vincent said, pressing something and sending up a holographic picture of Chara for a moment. Chara, the heart of Sathraism, where the Great Nexu of the Void was, Chara, a crime ridden, hot, dry world where 1/3rd of its population practiced Sathraism. The perfect world for a religion of the stars to come into being, perhaps, Salamah had thought with cynicism, because there was nothing worth looking at on the planet, so why not the stars?
"Pick someone for what?"
"To temporarily replace me. I'm going on a Pilgrimage, it's part of continuing up the ranks..."
"You just became a Captain," Salamah said, his pulse pounding, resisting yelling, "And you have work to do. You can't leave, not now, not for..."
"Four months at least, probably more..."
Salamah stared at him, "I'll disown you..."
"You can't and won't, Your Grace. Your wife told me so in a conversation we had via hologram" he said earnestly. "Now, you should pick someone to replace me. And a transport..."
**********
"You lying..." he growled, his face entirely without pretense, "You lying...how dare you?!" He was yelling into the hologram, talking to his wife as if she was there...except if she was there the temptation for attempted murder would have been even stronger.
"What is it dear?"
"You know! You talked to Vincent and suddenly he feels it is okay to run off and do his bullshit religion thing," he was so angry he wasn't even being polite about it. He had nothing against Sathraism in particular, except that it was a religion, and he had no time for those. "Suddenly he wants me to put Marcus in control, just as we'll finally opening up Al Niyat! And you helped him...again! Explain yourself."
She looked at him, seeming almost pleased by his reaction, "Marcus needs this."
"So this is about Marcus, not about the business?"
"It is about both. Marcus might be sometimes lazy, and not Prince-charming, but he has more ability than you give him credit for, and he's sharp and bright."
"And a horrible alcoholic that has only stayed sober for a year because we don't give him the chance to change that."
"He deserves a chance. I think the responsiblity will be good for him."
"It will crush him," Salamah stated.
Jamilla stared at him for a long time before smiling, "You really do love him."
"Yes, he is family," Salamah said impatiently.
"No, not like that. If a random cousin showed up, you'd treat them well, maybe even love them...but you've known Marcus for decades, you all but raised him, if my sources are correct...you need to stop coddling him: he had too long of a childhood, and suddenly he was eighteen and he had to marry and become an adult."
"It will crush him," Salamah repeated. "He won't be able to stand it and I will not have my brother self-destructing again. I can't lose him," he finally admitted, "Not now, not after we've gone so far. Not like I lost Aaqilah." He felt raw, vulnerable, and tired, and more than anything he wanted her to stop, to stop pressing, and stop knowing him.
He wanted her to know nothing about him, and yet here she was...
"You didn't lose her. She lost herself. She made her choices, and they ended the way they ended. It was her fault, and you should stop blaming yourself."
"She was right," Salamah said quietly, "When she accused me of being a coward unable to stand up for what I belived she was...then...right." It was painful, and he stopped, pausing and saying, "He can't handle it."
"If he can't handle it, then he never will. Marcus will do fine, it's not as if he has to start up a whole new business. There is a stable core of business, and there is a lot of room for expansion in Al Niyat, he'll be fine."
And so Salamah lost, and Vincent left, and Marcus became Head of Mercantile.
Four days later, the economy of Al Niyat collapsed in the span of hours.
Cast
Vincent Laurent, 38: A Captain of the Faith of Sathraism, he is going on a long pilgrimage of meditation and contemplation, leaving everyone else to desperately scramble to deal with his sudden departure. There is a reason his faith has to do with stars, and not other people, or basic courtesy.
Duke Salamah Laurent, 50: A man who cannot save anyone, no matter how hard he tries.
Jamilla Laurent, 57: Salamah's hated wife, who knows him far too well for his own comfort.
Marcus Laurent, 39: Salamah's kid brother, raised by Salamah since Marcus was only one, he is a (not at all recovering) Alcoholic who lies around the house all day serving no function except to exist as Salamah's brother, and a reminder of his past.
Friday, July 5, 2013
Art Work
11th of Culminations in the 5th Year of the Reign of Yale Redwater, on Circe
Anything can feel like work if one does it long enough. When Salamah had come up with the bright idea of creating an Art Gallery open to anyone, that taught all sorts of lessons, and was state of the art...when that idea had come up, it was during a particularly whimsical moment. He had been playing with his son...
****
Omar's eyes had a liquid intensity to them that was, he felt, the best combination of parental traits. He was a small, thin, lovely boy, currently drawing a picture on the Picture-Pad, a rather expensive bit of whimsy, but one he was entirely worthy of. Salamah smiled, sitting next to the boy, his clothes mussed up from a tussle and a chase. Salamah had been it.
His smile was entirely without pretense and artifice, and he looked at the boy and for a moment he felt a sudden connection to all boys. He hadn't had a Picture-Pad...he loved and appreciated art, but even had he possessed the talents to be the next great artist, no miner's son was going to have the time for that...so, was there value in such opportunities.
And he needed a reputation. Ideas began to form, and though he tried not to be, he was a bit distant with his son over the next hour. He'd have to make that up.
****
Some things had even begun to seem to be falling in place on their own. Vincent, whose profits were projected to be fourteen-thousand Solars by the end of the month, had recently opened a brisk, if somewhat marginal art-trade between Pollux and Al Niyat. Besides his own purchases, he was able to filter out the best pieces for his gallery. Choosing was difficult, but it was managable. Buying all the pieces felt so very decadent. By the time he was ready to start choosing the pieces to try to string them together into a bunch of themes, he had spent more Solars than he had ever, prior to becoming a Noble, ever had at one time, and without even coming close to bankrupting him.
But when it came time to choose how to lay out the gallery with his wife, who would also be on the Board of Directors (a total of five people) to help ensure control. Plus, of course, it would give his wife something to do. And Jamilla, like Salamah, was said to have a very good taste in art.
Naively, optimistically, he had figured they would be done within a few days at the most. And then all that would be left would be to prepare for the opening day which, symbolically, was going to be the 1st of Origins, though the facility would be fully done some time before that.
****
As the second week of working on it was only hours away, they bickered. Sure, they both had complex and interesting tastes in artwork, but they were very different. Salamah's was more wacky, esoteric, off the cuff, things he liked, many of which--the dancing, the games, the interactive installations--were not what Jamilla, with a far more refined, traditional taste. And wasn't afraid to press it.
"One holographic display of far-northern Ritual Dance is more than enough. It'll already fill up an entire room..."
"I could put it in the same room, and have them alternate," he suggested as a compromise.
"Acceptable, though, really, it's not the best..."
"The numbers were ran, some of this stuff is really popular. What are we going to do as far as the paintings go? You picked far too many..."
"Not enough, I'd say," she said, all of her love for him buried beneath her desire to make the gallery exactly what she wanted. "If only we hadn't been outbid for..."
"It was crud and you know it, a third rate work by a second-rate artist," he said, his lack of sleep--he hadn't slept in days--finally breaking his resolve to politeness.
****
In the end, it had not only taken a full month, but he had been forced by a call from Vincent, claiming important news to announce, to continue his work through proxies and vid-screens, allowing her to have more influence on it than he did. What he thought at the time, was that Vincent better have a good reason for drawing him away from this.
As it turned out, Art was a lot of work.
Cast
Duke Salamah Laurent, age 50: Duke of House Laurent, and a lover of funny, eclectic, off-the-wall art. His tastes were honed over many years on his own.
Jamilla Laurent, age 57: Her tastes are refined and polished, cleaned up and created by her parents, teachers, and so on like one might polish a diamond.
Anything can feel like work if one does it long enough. When Salamah had come up with the bright idea of creating an Art Gallery open to anyone, that taught all sorts of lessons, and was state of the art...when that idea had come up, it was during a particularly whimsical moment. He had been playing with his son...
****
Omar's eyes had a liquid intensity to them that was, he felt, the best combination of parental traits. He was a small, thin, lovely boy, currently drawing a picture on the Picture-Pad, a rather expensive bit of whimsy, but one he was entirely worthy of. Salamah smiled, sitting next to the boy, his clothes mussed up from a tussle and a chase. Salamah had been it.
His smile was entirely without pretense and artifice, and he looked at the boy and for a moment he felt a sudden connection to all boys. He hadn't had a Picture-Pad...he loved and appreciated art, but even had he possessed the talents to be the next great artist, no miner's son was going to have the time for that...so, was there value in such opportunities.
And he needed a reputation. Ideas began to form, and though he tried not to be, he was a bit distant with his son over the next hour. He'd have to make that up.
****
Some things had even begun to seem to be falling in place on their own. Vincent, whose profits were projected to be fourteen-thousand Solars by the end of the month, had recently opened a brisk, if somewhat marginal art-trade between Pollux and Al Niyat. Besides his own purchases, he was able to filter out the best pieces for his gallery. Choosing was difficult, but it was managable. Buying all the pieces felt so very decadent. By the time he was ready to start choosing the pieces to try to string them together into a bunch of themes, he had spent more Solars than he had ever, prior to becoming a Noble, ever had at one time, and without even coming close to bankrupting him.
But when it came time to choose how to lay out the gallery with his wife, who would also be on the Board of Directors (a total of five people) to help ensure control. Plus, of course, it would give his wife something to do. And Jamilla, like Salamah, was said to have a very good taste in art.
Naively, optimistically, he had figured they would be done within a few days at the most. And then all that would be left would be to prepare for the opening day which, symbolically, was going to be the 1st of Origins, though the facility would be fully done some time before that.
****
As the second week of working on it was only hours away, they bickered. Sure, they both had complex and interesting tastes in artwork, but they were very different. Salamah's was more wacky, esoteric, off the cuff, things he liked, many of which--the dancing, the games, the interactive installations--were not what Jamilla, with a far more refined, traditional taste. And wasn't afraid to press it.
"One holographic display of far-northern Ritual Dance is more than enough. It'll already fill up an entire room..."
"I could put it in the same room, and have them alternate," he suggested as a compromise.
"Acceptable, though, really, it's not the best..."
"The numbers were ran, some of this stuff is really popular. What are we going to do as far as the paintings go? You picked far too many..."
"Not enough, I'd say," she said, all of her love for him buried beneath her desire to make the gallery exactly what she wanted. "If only we hadn't been outbid for..."
"It was crud and you know it, a third rate work by a second-rate artist," he said, his lack of sleep--he hadn't slept in days--finally breaking his resolve to politeness.
****
In the end, it had not only taken a full month, but he had been forced by a call from Vincent, claiming important news to announce, to continue his work through proxies and vid-screens, allowing her to have more influence on it than he did. What he thought at the time, was that Vincent better have a good reason for drawing him away from this.
As it turned out, Art was a lot of work.
Cast
Duke Salamah Laurent, age 50: Duke of House Laurent, and a lover of funny, eclectic, off-the-wall art. His tastes were honed over many years on his own.
Jamilla Laurent, age 57: Her tastes are refined and polished, cleaned up and created by her parents, teachers, and so on like one might polish a diamond.
Wednesday, July 3, 2013
Twenty Thousand Days Under the Lash
Late Resolve in the 5th year of the Reign of Yale Redwater, On Alshain Magna
His birthday had come and gone without him realizing until days afterwards. By all standards, it was even a significant day. He was fifty years old, and that was supposed to mean something. He felt no different, no older, no weaker than he was before, or perhaps he was deluding himself on that point.
Twenty thousand days he had spent in this Galaxy, and the celebration of the completion of a 400-day cycle of them did not seem all that important. Perhaps it was because of all of those milestones that were supposed to be associated with ages, he had experienced none of them. He had walked and talked some time before the designated ages, had never believed that girls had a made-up infectious disease transmitted through contact, had barely noticed puberty amid the roil of a thousand problems, had sex not at sixteen, or eighteen, but at thirteen. Voted far before he was of age, drank before then too, ran a business, emancipated himself, murdered people long before one was allowed to join an army and do it, went to college and finished it in a headlong rush. He hadn't gone through a mid-life crisis, unless it was waiting to sneak up on him, and he was gongn to live to be a hundred.
He had seen no need to celebrate, because one day hardly added anything to the pain, the suffering, the triumph of his days piled upon another until he thought their tail would become unmanagable, as if he were a bride at a too-formal wedding, dragging around a dress train far too long to move with.
And so, with great finality he had refused all celebrations and drank a glass of the best port, and done nothing else.
He didn't know whether he wondered, or merely dreaded, where tomorrow would find him.
Salamah went to sleep early that night, too tired of being awake to stay up.
His birthday had come and gone without him realizing until days afterwards. By all standards, it was even a significant day. He was fifty years old, and that was supposed to mean something. He felt no different, no older, no weaker than he was before, or perhaps he was deluding himself on that point.
Twenty thousand days he had spent in this Galaxy, and the celebration of the completion of a 400-day cycle of them did not seem all that important. Perhaps it was because of all of those milestones that were supposed to be associated with ages, he had experienced none of them. He had walked and talked some time before the designated ages, had never believed that girls had a made-up infectious disease transmitted through contact, had barely noticed puberty amid the roil of a thousand problems, had sex not at sixteen, or eighteen, but at thirteen. Voted far before he was of age, drank before then too, ran a business, emancipated himself, murdered people long before one was allowed to join an army and do it, went to college and finished it in a headlong rush. He hadn't gone through a mid-life crisis, unless it was waiting to sneak up on him, and he was gongn to live to be a hundred.
He had seen no need to celebrate, because one day hardly added anything to the pain, the suffering, the triumph of his days piled upon another until he thought their tail would become unmanagable, as if he were a bride at a too-formal wedding, dragging around a dress train far too long to move with.
And so, with great finality he had refused all celebrations and drank a glass of the best port, and done nothing else.
He didn't know whether he wondered, or merely dreaded, where tomorrow would find him.
Salamah went to sleep early that night, too tired of being awake to stay up.
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Troubled Waters
19th of Resolve, in the 5th year of the Reign of Yale Redwater, Alshain Magna
Jamilla Laurent looked at her husband, settling into her grav-chair as he ate his eggs in silence, a slight smile tugging against his lips. Jamilla had fallen in love with Salamah a dozen times, and she figured that smile had been a part of every single one of them. She loved her husband, wildly, madly, and that smile, a bit smug, but also confident, and (mostly) unplanned, it was one of the things she loved about him.
Of course, to love was not to claim perfection, and on her worst days she began to see how, when faced with the world, Marcus had crawled into a bottle. On her worst days she loved him the way he loved most of his family: out of a sort of resigned acceptance that this was the way things were, and that no matter how he feels about them he also loves them. On other days, of course, loving him was far easier, far less painful.
What she didn't understand is why he didn't love her back--or, why, when she sat down and allowed herself the rare opportunity of telling herself the truth, that was the conclusion she came to. Many days, of course, she could delude herself long enough to love him as a being with few faults, if any.
But he was so closed off, beneath his charm. His childhood, his family, his sister, his home-planet, she had learned to negotiate a mine-field of topics that would cause him to close up, to retreat behind formalities.
And she knew he had cheated not all that long ago. What else could explain the surprise visit to Circe, could explain the messages her spies had carefully reconstructed about a meeting with "Charlie." She wondered what such a woman had that she didn't--because, not to be too vain, she was intelligent, well-bred, had a first-class education and, by the standardized definitions, she was beautiful. Was it her pale skin, was there some feature he didn't like, or some part of her personality that repelled him?
Jamilla understood that love was a complex thing, that often one had no choice in that matter, and she could even accept with a tearing heart that he didn't love her. What baffled her was that he wasn't even attracted to her, at least, he didn't seem to be all that often. In the heat of the moment, perhaps she told herself that the sex meant lust, or pretended to believe the lust might be a symptom of love, but as often enough she allowed herself to be distracted and played with by her desire for Salamah's body not because she was a fool, but because she was desperate and lonely and loved him and wanted him even if it wasn't the way she wanted to want him.
All of this was the context by which she decided, that blustery and cold--did Alshain Magna not have a blustery, cold day, not that it mattered, enmeshed as they were in their womb of a home--morning, to ask him, "Honey, what are you doing?"
He looked up and said, "Attempting to check all the available men of the right bloodline. I have had enough of Audrey, and at this point I'd marry her to a homeless bum...if he'd treat her right," he amended, since he didn't want to wish misery on any of his family. "Perhaps one of my courtier friends..."
"No! She is to marry into Nobility, or not at all," Jamilla insisted, "Trust me, I know them, those so called former friends of yours, and they are like sharks, they'll latch onto her, destroy you, and benefit nobody."
"They'd just marry her and discard her for her name, her position..." she trailed off, Salamah looking at her bizarrely, as if he was confused. He touched her shoulder, and she found she was nearly crying. Crying because was he really all that different from them, then, was he?
After a moment, he stood, and, after leaning in to speak some words to her ears only, left, unable to bear it. She stared at the data-sheet.
He had whispered, ever so quietly, "I don't want to despise you, I didn't mean..."
Sometimes the right words just wouldn't come.
Jamilla Laurent looked at her husband, settling into her grav-chair as he ate his eggs in silence, a slight smile tugging against his lips. Jamilla had fallen in love with Salamah a dozen times, and she figured that smile had been a part of every single one of them. She loved her husband, wildly, madly, and that smile, a bit smug, but also confident, and (mostly) unplanned, it was one of the things she loved about him.
Of course, to love was not to claim perfection, and on her worst days she began to see how, when faced with the world, Marcus had crawled into a bottle. On her worst days she loved him the way he loved most of his family: out of a sort of resigned acceptance that this was the way things were, and that no matter how he feels about them he also loves them. On other days, of course, loving him was far easier, far less painful.
What she didn't understand is why he didn't love her back--or, why, when she sat down and allowed herself the rare opportunity of telling herself the truth, that was the conclusion she came to. Many days, of course, she could delude herself long enough to love him as a being with few faults, if any.
But he was so closed off, beneath his charm. His childhood, his family, his sister, his home-planet, she had learned to negotiate a mine-field of topics that would cause him to close up, to retreat behind formalities.
And she knew he had cheated not all that long ago. What else could explain the surprise visit to Circe, could explain the messages her spies had carefully reconstructed about a meeting with "Charlie." She wondered what such a woman had that she didn't--because, not to be too vain, she was intelligent, well-bred, had a first-class education and, by the standardized definitions, she was beautiful. Was it her pale skin, was there some feature he didn't like, or some part of her personality that repelled him?
Jamilla understood that love was a complex thing, that often one had no choice in that matter, and she could even accept with a tearing heart that he didn't love her. What baffled her was that he wasn't even attracted to her, at least, he didn't seem to be all that often. In the heat of the moment, perhaps she told herself that the sex meant lust, or pretended to believe the lust might be a symptom of love, but as often enough she allowed herself to be distracted and played with by her desire for Salamah's body not because she was a fool, but because she was desperate and lonely and loved him and wanted him even if it wasn't the way she wanted to want him.
All of this was the context by which she decided, that blustery and cold--did Alshain Magna not have a blustery, cold day, not that it mattered, enmeshed as they were in their womb of a home--morning, to ask him, "Honey, what are you doing?"
He looked up and said, "Attempting to check all the available men of the right bloodline. I have had enough of Audrey, and at this point I'd marry her to a homeless bum...if he'd treat her right," he amended, since he didn't want to wish misery on any of his family. "Perhaps one of my courtier friends..."
"No! She is to marry into Nobility, or not at all," Jamilla insisted, "Trust me, I know them, those so called former friends of yours, and they are like sharks, they'll latch onto her, destroy you, and benefit nobody."
"They'd just marry her and discard her for her name, her position..." she trailed off, Salamah looking at her bizarrely, as if he was confused. He touched her shoulder, and she found she was nearly crying. Crying because was he really all that different from them, then, was he?
After a moment, he stood, and, after leaning in to speak some words to her ears only, left, unable to bear it. She stared at the data-sheet.
He had whispered, ever so quietly, "I don't want to despise you, I didn't mean..."
Sometimes the right words just wouldn't come.
Monday, June 24, 2013
Visualize Your Future Wealth Potential
25th of Faith, in the 5th Year of the Reign of Yale Redwater, back on Alshain Magna
It was a remarkable human capacity, the ability for individual happiness to pop like soap bubbles. Just a few weeks before he had been among the Houses of the Galaxy, eyes aimed at the next election, at power, and despite some problems it had gone more well than ill, and he now had two new allies, though these were bonds that could be strengthened.
He had a niece, perhaps he could find a marriage for her...and he was making more money. There were a million paths open to her now, if only she could use them. If only he didn't have to deal with bullshit. He looked up, his smile pleasant at Vincent, as unkempt as ever, and asking HIM for money. He had a thousand things he could spend the 25,000 Solars on, let alone the profits the mines were starting to bring in. Even if it didn't take money to make more money, he could donate it to a thousand causes he would view more worthy than the religion of 'Sathraism.'
"So, uh, Your Grace, what do you say?"
"Why," Salamah said in his even voice, "Do you not spend your own money?"
"What do you mean."
Salamah smiled and said, "If you can think of a profitable business-plan in whatever field you wish, I will give you the money, incorporate you under me, and allow you to put a certain portion towards your religious...goals."
It was that simple. Either Vincent backed down, and at least that was done with, or he made Salamah a lot of money and was actually useful, after all.
Vincent seemed sobered but said, "I think there are some bulk-trades that might make some profits...not a massive amount, the southern area, it's..." he shook his head, "I-I'll do it," he coughed on the table and said, "Ugh...sorry, been feeling off, think I caught a bug. But..." his eyes alit and for a moment he was almost compelling, "A chance to see the stars, the galaxy, and make money to help Sathraism. I might even start some Missions."
"Missions?"
"To spread the word, but only if this only works out!"
Salamah stared at him. He smelled like he had forgotten to bathe. Vincent did that sometimes. Well, what could he say, "If you get me the proposal, I'll look through it, and sign it."
He was as good as his word, and so was Vincent. Like his cousin or not, they were family, and Vincent was a smart man--when he wasn't pissing everyone off.
Cast:
Duke Salamah Laurent, age 49: The exasperated if polite head of the Laurent family, his ethos of "family first" is often frustrated by his dislike of so many members of his family, though he'd never show it, he's too socially cued-in.
Vincent Laurent, age 37: The enthusiastic, often unwashed, somewhat unattractive Cousin of Salamah, he found the Faith of Sathraism and has tried to convert everyone he's met to it--and failed. He is now the head of Mercantile.
It was a remarkable human capacity, the ability for individual happiness to pop like soap bubbles. Just a few weeks before he had been among the Houses of the Galaxy, eyes aimed at the next election, at power, and despite some problems it had gone more well than ill, and he now had two new allies, though these were bonds that could be strengthened.
He had a niece, perhaps he could find a marriage for her...and he was making more money. There were a million paths open to her now, if only she could use them. If only he didn't have to deal with bullshit. He looked up, his smile pleasant at Vincent, as unkempt as ever, and asking HIM for money. He had a thousand things he could spend the 25,000 Solars on, let alone the profits the mines were starting to bring in. Even if it didn't take money to make more money, he could donate it to a thousand causes he would view more worthy than the religion of 'Sathraism.'
"So, uh, Your Grace, what do you say?"
"Why," Salamah said in his even voice, "Do you not spend your own money?"
"What do you mean."
Salamah smiled and said, "If you can think of a profitable business-plan in whatever field you wish, I will give you the money, incorporate you under me, and allow you to put a certain portion towards your religious...goals."
It was that simple. Either Vincent backed down, and at least that was done with, or he made Salamah a lot of money and was actually useful, after all.
Vincent seemed sobered but said, "I think there are some bulk-trades that might make some profits...not a massive amount, the southern area, it's..." he shook his head, "I-I'll do it," he coughed on the table and said, "Ugh...sorry, been feeling off, think I caught a bug. But..." his eyes alit and for a moment he was almost compelling, "A chance to see the stars, the galaxy, and make money to help Sathraism. I might even start some Missions."
"Missions?"
"To spread the word, but only if this only works out!"
Salamah stared at him. He smelled like he had forgotten to bathe. Vincent did that sometimes. Well, what could he say, "If you get me the proposal, I'll look through it, and sign it."
He was as good as his word, and so was Vincent. Like his cousin or not, they were family, and Vincent was a smart man--when he wasn't pissing everyone off.
Cast:
Duke Salamah Laurent, age 49: The exasperated if polite head of the Laurent family, his ethos of "family first" is often frustrated by his dislike of so many members of his family, though he'd never show it, he's too socially cued-in.
Vincent Laurent, age 37: The enthusiastic, often unwashed, somewhat unattractive Cousin of Salamah, he found the Faith of Sathraism and has tried to convert everyone he's met to it--and failed. He is now the head of Mercantile.
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Frustration
With the events of the last while, the Forum RP has been pushed to the back of everyone's minds, meaning it won't advance. In the spirit of desperately wanting to move on, I might soon start posting the stuff I have afterwards on an every-two-day schedule.
Monday, June 3, 2013
RP Logs, Paying Respects, Part X
Laurent
Jamilla looked pleasently surprised. "Perhaps you would like to talk to al-Saffah, to confirm we are all on the same page. And I can tell my husband of our plans." Salamah was in charge, but at the moment she was calling the shots by default. "If you would follow me?" she asked, hoping Selina would agree.
ser Noche
Nora stood by the tables of food, occasionally picking up small snacks as she watched the young nobles mingle with each other. It was livelier than most of the recent announced parties and festivities, and she was glad for it. She smiled, and let the proceedings unfold.
However, after a little time, a servant quietly slipped in through the door from the hallway, and walked up to her with some urgency in his stride. He whispered something in her ear, and for a moment a paleness came over her face. She nodded, and whispered something back. The man walked out of the room again, off to Gods knew where, and Nora resumed her friendly smile. She calmly walked over to one of the lush seats and sat down, arranging her skirts slightly to fall neatly alongside her legs.
Sternseher
Selina would only nod and follow along, pursing her lips as she considered the third party in their group. She'd not had much of a chance to interact with al-Saffah, but hopefully she could get a good impression of him shortly.
As she made her way by, she smiled politely over to Nora, nodding to her once more. It was a lovely function after all, even if it wasn't the sort of thing she typically indulged in.
Laurent
alamah was about to reply to Bundar when he saw his wife approach, followed by the Sternsehers. Confused, he pulled his wife aside and they talked. At first, for all that they were far enough from the others that words couldn't make out, he seemed angry and incredulous that she had usurped his authority. Slowly, though, this transformed into curiosity, and then interest and finally he nodded and said, "Your Highness, may I introduce you to her Grace, Selina Sternseher? Perhaps you two might get acquainted, and talk over an idea that they have hatched.
Introductions done, he left--not even realizing the absence of Marcus--and went over to the food table. There were several reasons for this. First, that he was hungry and the food looked good. Second, that he was polite, and just as importantly, really, it would give him cause to compliment Lady ser Noche. He ate in a well-mannered way, savoring the food and then, when done, he made his way to Nora ser Noche.
He gave another one of his flawless bows and said, "I thank you for your hospitality and food. It was simply exquisite. I myself wish to give you a gift myself, one less solid than that from Sternseher, but quite important, I would think. It is something of a delicate gift, and it might be preferrable for me to confer it in private."
"Although," he added, "I can present it here should you wish so."
ser Noche
Jamilla looked pleasently surprised. "Perhaps you would like to talk to al-Saffah, to confirm we are all on the same page. And I can tell my husband of our plans." Salamah was in charge, but at the moment she was calling the shots by default. "If you would follow me?" she asked, hoping Selina would agree.
ser Noche
Nora stood by the tables of food, occasionally picking up small snacks as she watched the young nobles mingle with each other. It was livelier than most of the recent announced parties and festivities, and she was glad for it. She smiled, and let the proceedings unfold.
However, after a little time, a servant quietly slipped in through the door from the hallway, and walked up to her with some urgency in his stride. He whispered something in her ear, and for a moment a paleness came over her face. She nodded, and whispered something back. The man walked out of the room again, off to Gods knew where, and Nora resumed her friendly smile. She calmly walked over to one of the lush seats and sat down, arranging her skirts slightly to fall neatly alongside her legs.
Sternseher
Selina would only nod and follow along, pursing her lips as she considered the third party in their group. She'd not had much of a chance to interact with al-Saffah, but hopefully she could get a good impression of him shortly.
As she made her way by, she smiled politely over to Nora, nodding to her once more. It was a lovely function after all, even if it wasn't the sort of thing she typically indulged in.
Laurent
alamah was about to reply to Bundar when he saw his wife approach, followed by the Sternsehers. Confused, he pulled his wife aside and they talked. At first, for all that they were far enough from the others that words couldn't make out, he seemed angry and incredulous that she had usurped his authority. Slowly, though, this transformed into curiosity, and then interest and finally he nodded and said, "Your Highness, may I introduce you to her Grace, Selina Sternseher? Perhaps you two might get acquainted, and talk over an idea that they have hatched.
Introductions done, he left--not even realizing the absence of Marcus--and went over to the food table. There were several reasons for this. First, that he was hungry and the food looked good. Second, that he was polite, and just as importantly, really, it would give him cause to compliment Lady ser Noche. He ate in a well-mannered way, savoring the food and then, when done, he made his way to Nora ser Noche.
He gave another one of his flawless bows and said, "I thank you for your hospitality and food. It was simply exquisite. I myself wish to give you a gift myself, one less solid than that from Sternseher, but quite important, I would think. It is something of a delicate gift, and it might be preferrable for me to confer it in private."
"Although," he added, "I can present it here should you wish so."
ser Noche
| "Thank you, I do hope everybody is enjoying themselves. We don't get a lot of visitors here," she said with a small curtsy in return. As he spoke about a gift, Nora nodded. "If you would prefer a private conversation, might I suggest we retreat to the annex room? We can talk privately there, the walls are sound-proofed." She gestured to the far wall, where a door stood slightly open towards another room in similar decoration, with a slightly thicker carpet in dark red plush. | ||||
Laurent
"That sounds like an excellent idea," he said, and with a bow he led the way. Now, he would have been more careful around a rival, would have at least had said rival lead the way in first, but, really, if ser Noche wanted him dead, it didn't have to lure him into a backroom. It could, just as easily, infuse the air with neurotoxins whose cures everyone who Nora ser Noche desired to live could be discreetly slipped, and then it would be a simple and tragic illness.
In other words, the ser Noches were rich and powerful enough that worrying about stepping into a room first was the least of his worries.
And, of course, a distant second in his reasoning was the fact that he thought he had reason to trust Lady Nora ser Noche.
A very distant third as he walked--he glanced back to see that she was following--was that he trusted her.
Once they were in the room, he turned, closed the door, and waited for Lady Nora to get settled.
In other words, the ser Noches were rich and powerful enough that worrying about stepping into a room first was the least of his worries.
And, of course, a distant second in his reasoning was the fact that he thought he had reason to trust Lady Nora ser Noche.
A very distant third as he walked--he glanced back to see that she was following--was that he trusted her.
Once they were in the room, he turned, closed the door, and waited for Lady Nora to get settled.
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
RP Logs, Paying Respects, Part IX: Salamah and Bundar
((Now, those who have access to the RP Forum will note these next two Parts don't happen as they did in the forum. There were two different conversations going on, alternating against each other, and so I basically pulled them apart, and edited them (mostly to take out the 'Meanwhiles' I used to give it some order) for consumption here.))
Laurent
Salamah saw that Jamilla was going off, and wished her the best of luck with Marcus, and whatever she wanted to do. He had matters of importance to see to. He moved over to Bundar and Qaribah and said, "Pardon me, would you like to go to the gardens, I have a few things which it might be helpful to speak of." He smiled and said, "You may bring your daughter, of course." He smiled and said, "I believe there are things that may be done to mutual advantage, especially since we are alreaday here, Your Highness," which was the proper phrasing for an Emir.
al Saffah
Laurent
Salamah began to walk towards the small gardens, pretty sure Bundar was following. And Qaribah. He had seen how she watched everything and said nothing. It was not a style Salamah employed--he often preferred to jump into the action--but it was not the way of someone who was just there as an accessory. "We are all here for our own reasons. Did you ever wonder why I, the farthest one from this planet, came here?" He would sit gracefully on a rock, "House ser Noche gave me a subsidy of a certain amount of money, such that I had to thank them. Can you gues
s how many Solars I was guarenteed every month, by account-transfer?" He smiled politely, waiting for Bundar to guess.
al Saffah
Laurent
"Twenty-five thousand Solars a month, for a year." Salamah smiled, knowing what Bundar's reaction could be, "Some of that could be transferred to you, and I could speak to Lady Nora ser Noche about obtaining your own Subsidy. But this wouldn't be a gift. Instead...it would be a mark of a mutual agreement. The elections are not all that long from now, over a year, sure, but time can pass quite quickly. When the time comes, perhaps we could act together, and vote together...it'd give our decision more weight if it was done together. Two votes instead of one..."
al Saffah
Laurent
"My Subsidy for your Highness might be, perhaps, 5000 Solars a month, until such time as ser Noche grants you the Subsidy, and as a sign that I am working on obtaining it?" he suggested with a smile. "So, if ser Noche was willing to eventually follow through on the Subisdy, would that be enough for you to agree to now vote with me--or rather, vote in temporary concord with me, if my vote changes we would have to talk on that..." he realized he was talking too fast, and slowed down. "Vote with me for ser Noche? That I might take this deal to her as an offer..."
al Saffah
Laurent
Salamah saw that Jamilla was going off, and wished her the best of luck with Marcus, and whatever she wanted to do. He had matters of importance to see to. He moved over to Bundar and Qaribah and said, "Pardon me, would you like to go to the gardens, I have a few things which it might be helpful to speak of." He smiled and said, "You may bring your daughter, of course." He smiled and said, "I believe there are things that may be done to mutual advantage, especially since we are alreaday here, Your Highness," which was the proper phrasing for an Emir.
al Saffah
| "Of couse, Your Grace." Bundar returns the courtesy with an easy smile. He doesn't even have to ask for this not to be strictly a conversation between the pair of them... though Qaribah is more concerned, even if it doesn't show on her face. The possibility that Salamah may have figured out that her father will need her to hand for a discussion like this, and why, is a worrying one- a known weakness is a very bad thing. "I'm listening." Salamah had his undivided interest at right about the moment he said 'mutual advantage.' |
Salamah began to walk towards the small gardens, pretty sure Bundar was following. And Qaribah. He had seen how she watched everything and said nothing. It was not a style Salamah employed--he often preferred to jump into the action--but it was not the way of someone who was just there as an accessory. "We are all here for our own reasons. Did you ever wonder why I, the farthest one from this planet, came here?" He would sit gracefully on a rock, "House ser Noche gave me a subsidy of a certain amount of money, such that I had to thank them. Can you gues
s how many Solars I was guarenteed every month, by account-transfer?" He smiled politely, waiting for Bundar to guess.
al Saffah
| "Hmm... for such a journey, it would have to be a gift of some considerable weight," Bundar muses. Such a subsidy is a priceless boon for any young, up and coming noble house. They will eventually reach the same destination without the subsidy, of course, but the extra funds will ensure that it all happens that much faster. "Some... fifteen, twenty thousand Solars, perhaps? Twenty-five, possibly, at a stretch." One thing he does have an understanding of is money and finance- his education ensured that much, at least. |
"Twenty-five thousand Solars a month, for a year." Salamah smiled, knowing what Bundar's reaction could be, "Some of that could be transferred to you, and I could speak to Lady Nora ser Noche about obtaining your own Subsidy. But this wouldn't be a gift. Instead...it would be a mark of a mutual agreement. The elections are not all that long from now, over a year, sure, but time can pass quite quickly. When the time comes, perhaps we could act together, and vote together...it'd give our decision more weight if it was done together. Two votes instead of one..."
al Saffah
| "No wonder you came to thank them in person," Bundar says, almost wonderingly. With that amount of money in play, the expense of the journey is almost trivial by comparison. "Hmm, yes... and every house, of course, has an equal vote..." And the winner will be most grateful to the houses that supported them in their victory- all that remains is to hope that the house they support does, in fact, end up being the house that wins. "That would... be a most agreeable arrangement, Your Grace." Well, of course it would. It involves al Saffah reaping a share of the benefits Laurent is already enjoying. | ||||
"My Subsidy for your Highness might be, perhaps, 5000 Solars a month, until such time as ser Noche grants you the Subsidy, and as a sign that I am working on obtaining it?" he suggested with a smile. "So, if ser Noche was willing to eventually follow through on the Subisdy, would that be enough for you to agree to now vote with me--or rather, vote in temporary concord with me, if my vote changes we would have to talk on that..." he realized he was talking too fast, and slowed down. "Vote with me for ser Noche? That I might take this deal to her as an offer..."
al Saffah
| Even 5,000 Solars a month is a welcome boon for a house that's still in it's early days. "I would be most grateful," Bundar says with a smile, and means it too. "The matter of the election had been on my mind when I first planned this visit. For these terms? Certainly- when the time comes, I will vote alongside you, for ser Noche to take the Imperial throne." And if ser Noche does indeed hold such Imperial ambitions for the next election, how could they possibly refuse? Every vote counts, after all. |
Monday, May 27, 2013
RP Logs, Paying Respects, Part VIII: Gifts
((Continued Directly from part VII. The formatting is a bit better, but still wonky.))
Laurent
Sternseher
al Saffah
ser Noche
They arrived at an open door, double-winged and made out of a dark mahogany wood, that entered into a sizable room. It too, was carpeted, but it was set with plush furniture in dark, warm colours with gold embroidery, a hearth in a wall crackling merrily with a fire, and on the opposite wall a glass screen looked out over a garden flanked by grey stone walls of the building. A small pond with shrubs and a tree or two around it graced the garden. In front of the glass screen were several tables laden with food, some exotic, some simple, but of great diversity and colours. An fourth table was against the far wall, set with several glasses and a deftly arranged set of drinks in hand-crafted stained glass bottles. A few servants stood by, ready to wait on the guests.
"Please, have a seat. You are welcome to help yourself to some food, or ask the servants to do so. If you'd like anything specific, just ask. If it's not here we can have it made for you immediately."
Laurent
| There were ages for strength, and there were ages for wisdom. A leader could be doomed merely by rising in the wrong time, and not being able to make the time their own. So Salamah wasn't too bothered, and was reassured by the wisdom. Waiting long enough to be appropriate he nodded as well, "Oh, of course. Your planet is quite beautiful, Lady ser Noche," he complimented, earnestly, though even had it been a dung-heap he might have said the same words. Besides that, he was cheered by her words. They made it sound as if she might be quite open to House Laurent expanding its--at this point miniscule--power and influence upon the galaxy. He stepped forward, still somewhat facing her, as Marcus smiled politely at her and slipped on ahead--rather against Salamah's plans--in the hopes of snagging some alcohol before Salamah could figure out a way to stop him. Which left the Patriarch torn. If he asked Lady ser Noche for help in this matter, keeping Marcus sober, he'd be admitting a weakness that could be exploited. But if he left Marcus be...Marcus was an angry, violent, abusive, cruel drunk, and it'd get out anyways, but much worse... Jamilla cut the knot, curtesying to Lady ser Noche and moving on ahead, in the hopes of intercepting Marcus herself, while Salamah interacted with the Head of House ser Noche. | ||||
| "Your welcome is accepted most graciously, My Lady." Offering an additional slight nod, she watched as two of Salamah's group split off, and she much expected others to do the same. Now, however, was an ideal time to put forth another sign of respect. She could have allowed the third minor house gathered the chance to move in first, or even opened to Salamah for further hobnobbing as seemed more appropriate to his sort of noble, but she preferred to get this sort of thing out of the way. Not because she dreaded it, but because punctuality was often looked upon well in a setting where things could go unsaid for years before coming out or being brought up. "It's a lovely planet... certainly more attractive than Diphda." She smiled a little bit as she said this, amusement in her voice and humor shining in her eyes. That only lasted a short moment though before she held her arms out to her side, her brother-in-law stepping forward. "Nagi and I would like to present you with a gift. I'm sure your security staff will want to scan it before you open it, but rest assured that it's nothing more than a book. A collection of Myrillian Mythology..." The ancient homeworld of ser Noche wasn't exactly a secret, yet such books were somewhat hard to come by. "My husband used some of his connections with other bookstores, book suppliers, and libraries around the sector to find it. I hope your family can find some enjoyment and reflection from it." | ||||
| "Thank you, Lady ser Noche," Bundar says with a bow of his head. "It was rather welcome- much has been said of the splendor of Taishijan, and I have greatly anticipated seeing it in person." The Emir's eyes follow Duke Laurent's brother curiously, and then the Duke's wife as she follows after him. What's going on there, hmm? Later, in private, Qaribah will mention that she suspects the Duke's brother may be an alcoholic, probably embarrassingly so- her role here is, after all, to pick up on what her less sharp-minded father might miss. |
| "I am sure that it is merely a book, and it is a wonderful gift, Duchess Sternseher. Thank you very much." Nora smiled warmly, despite knowing that her own house published such books and distributed them. If it was such a rarity, then the intention was a much greater gift than the object itself. And who knew, maybe it would be an actual original. "Shall we go inside? I've had some food and drink prepared for us, and a comfortable room to have conversation." She nodded back to the greetings, and entered the hall, indicating the seven to follow her. They passed through several hallways, then through a high hall, tiled in slabs of black marble, with ser Noche banners hanging between the columned sides. A large stone throne sat in the cneter, but it was unoccupied. People occasionally walked along the sides of the room from one door to another. The group crossed the hall and entered yet another hallway by a door in a wall behind the throne, and suddenly the air of the building changed. There was plush red carpeting everywhere, a deep burgundy hue, and wood paneling along the walls. warm lights lit everything from above, and occasionally a window peeked into a shadowed inner courtyard. |
They arrived at an open door, double-winged and made out of a dark mahogany wood, that entered into a sizable room. It too, was carpeted, but it was set with plush furniture in dark, warm colours with gold embroidery, a hearth in a wall crackling merrily with a fire, and on the opposite wall a glass screen looked out over a garden flanked by grey stone walls of the building. A small pond with shrubs and a tree or two around it graced the garden. In front of the glass screen were several tables laden with food, some exotic, some simple, but of great diversity and colours. An fourth table was against the far wall, set with several glasses and a deftly arranged set of drinks in hand-crafted stained glass bottles. A few servants stood by, ready to wait on the guests.
"Please, have a seat. You are welcome to help yourself to some food, or ask the servants to do so. If you'd like anything specific, just ask. If it's not here we can have it made for you immediately."
Saturday, May 25, 2013
RP Logs, Paying Respects, Part 7: Dis-Embarkment
((Continued from Part VI. And sorry for the formatting, and the lateness. I genuinely could not get this thing to work in any reasonable manner.))
ser Noche
The craft set down in the courtyard, which was paved with irregular slabs of white marble, without a sound except a light puff of displaced air. The guide stepped out of the vehicle, and bowed to the guests.
"Please, we have arrived. If you would disembark?" Behind her the main gates opened, large filigreed steel doors darkened with (recreated) age, and a small retinue of the Shadowknight guard stepped out, long lances held at their sides. Their black cloaks billowed around them, but instead of combat armour underneath they wore loose clothes in purple with a sparkling silver sash that negated all of their advantage in dark environments.
The guard stepped to the sides of the entrance, and center stage stood Nora ser Noche, Lady of the House, dressed in a simple grey dress with a deep purple overcoat falling loosely around her. She greeted the guests with a smile.
Laurent
ser Noche
| As Salamah made his last comment, the hovershuttle made the last descent towards a dark-grey stone surface, the courtyard of a rock-carved fortress with occasional purplish-hued bands tracing through it in steep diagonal layers. The courtyard was surrounded by a traditional crenellated wall, now topped not by guards but by the occasional sensor array for security. Banners draped over the wall both inside and out, long black strips with the silver crescent over a purpur and ebony diagonal band. The craft descended between the walls, reducing the view of the sky a little. On the other side of the courtyard was the first tier of the fortress, rising steeply along with the original rock surface it was carved from, with tall forbidding walls with slitted windows on the first tier, and ever loftier structures going up. At some point in the distance it shifted to new construction with tiled roofs and plastered walls. The entire thing breathed an air of old knighthood - though it got contrasted a bit with several more modern installations sticking out of the tiers every now and then: occasional antennae, a large greenhouse a few tiers above, and even a large steel and glass skyscraper peeking out above a ridge in the rock. |
The craft set down in the courtyard, which was paved with irregular slabs of white marble, without a sound except a light puff of displaced air. The guide stepped out of the vehicle, and bowed to the guests.
"Please, we have arrived. If you would disembark?" Behind her the main gates opened, large filigreed steel doors darkened with (recreated) age, and a small retinue of the Shadowknight guard stepped out, long lances held at their sides. Their black cloaks billowed around them, but instead of combat armour underneath they wore loose clothes in purple with a sparkling silver sash that negated all of their advantage in dark environments.
The guard stepped to the sides of the entrance, and center stage stood Nora ser Noche, Lady of the House, dressed in a simple grey dress with a deep purple overcoat falling loosely around her. She greeted the guests with a smile.
Laurent
| This was the excellence of power, Salamah thought, his mind harkening back to essays he had once read in dusty rooms. That someone could make something like this and, when war and fire destroyed it, simply remake it, that a family could survive so much…that was what it was to be a House. Power, power that Salamah had only begun to taste. Though he had spent his youth doing far more worrying than eating, if this was what power could bring…he allowed none of these thoughts, which slid in and out of each other. The marbling, Salamah observed with the eye of someone who had once studied the topic, was lovely. His eyes lingered over the Shadowknights. Deadly, no doubt, but he had no need for violence, not now. In the past he had been driven to violence, or even chosen it as a first reaction, but he was a different man now. His smile widened a bit. Even their knights were as much a display of power and beauty as anything. Salamah Laurent stepped out of the craft and looked upon Lady Nora ser Noche. Old, yes, but long ago the Patriarch had learned that ambition had no expiration date. It was quite a tasteful attire, but there was grace in her every movement, grace to match, and maybe even surpass, him. He returned her smile and bowed. Not so low as to be subservient, nor so shallow as to be disrespectful. A perfect bow that smoothly flowed into standing. He wished to address her, but he wanted to wait to see what the protocol was in that respect. Sternseher Selina took Salamah's lead somewhat graciously, for while she was no slouch when it came to the mental department, nor was she lacking in ambition. It was obvious to her at least that Salamah was the sort who relished his power and position, and being seen as a leader among his peers filled him with pride. The Duchess of House Sternseher was in no position to change that viewpoint. Nodding one last time to the wife of the little group's charismatic 'leader', she stood and exited the wagon. Chikanaga was quick to follow her lead, flashing one last dazzling smile to their tour guide before tugging his jacket once and slipping up along behind his sister-in-law, holding back roughly half a pace. She came to a halt beside Salamah, giving some distance for his family to join him, and dropped into a well-practiced curtsey. She had no such confusion about what came next, because someone was bound to introduce them. They were Nobles, after all. al Saffah
Laurent
ser Noche
| |||||||||||||||||||||
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
RP Logs, Paying Respects, part VI, Idle Chatter.
((Continued directly from part V.))
Al Saffah
"Do not worry about it," Bundar says quietly to Salamah, with an idle wave of his hand, as if brushing away the issue. "No offense was taken." That there will be an election at the end of the year hasn't escaped his notice, either, although his thinking doesn't extend as far as the Duke's- as far as he's concerned, it will be beneficial to his house to back the winning party- and House ser Noche does, in his estimation at least, have a good chance of being that winning party. He looks out at the rock spires, out to sea, picturing the size of the crater that must've existed before it was filled in. All in all, it seems remarkable that there's even a city here at all right now, if that was the scale of the damage.
Laurent
It was all a balancing act. The lesser Noble houses didn't have people focusing that much strength on their complete and total destruction, but they had not even a fraction of the resources even the smallest House could bring to bear. He had known enough men and women who lost everything during the Triumvirate and, for a few, after it...the fact that the average House didn't give them more than a passing thought didn't stop the missiles, did not truly do as much.
It was a marvel though, what technology could do. He had heard the ser Noches were advanced, and this just seemed more proof.
The Triumvirate...he had neither publically come out for or against it during that time: not that he could have been anything more than a tick on the Triumvirate's ankle, to be crushed off-hand if he had gone against them, and would have been of little use if he'd sided with them...but still, there were some courtiers and lesser noble houses who had picked which side they thought would win.
He had not approved of the sort of ideas Goman had possessed...but he had stayed carefully neutral. He smiled at Bundar, his eyes moving towards the third party. Three really was an elegant number, wasn't it? Salamah knew he shouldn't plan for things that he wasn't sure would come to pass: an alliance, working with the ser Noches, becoming rich...all of those were possibilities alone.
“I am glad to hear it.” As they rode along, Salamah asked, “May I ask what field you have taken up as your own?” What 'Sphere' in other words, in the strange lingo that old Houses used.
Al Saffah
"We al Saffahs have been merchants for a long time," Bundar replies amiably. "Just, until recently, we never traded off-planet. But now... I suppose there are certain expectations of a noble house, hmm? Along with all the new opportunities!" He chuckles, looking out across the sea, towards the horizon. "I only plan on things getting better, from here. More planets... we have a new trading post here on Algol, now." He cants his head on one side, curiously. "What about yourself?"
Laurent
"I am nothing more than a humble courtier turned miner," and if someone believed that, there were many things that could be sold to such a fool, "Though I might get into trading..."
He frowned thoughtfully. There was a market, perhaps. It would be something to think about.
"I don't have anything near here...the costs would be a bit restrictive." Salamah shrugged and looked back to the head of Sternseher, "May I ask what your interest is?"
Sternseher
Happy to leave the conversations to the others, Selina crossed her arms and settled a bit more comfortably into her wagon, enjoying the view with a very slight smile on her face. Her brother-in-law, on the other hand, did his utmost to 'covertly' flirt with the driver and woman giving the tour whenever she wasn't occupied with her duties of explaining where they were. Nagi was rather charismatic though, and despite his shameful display, those around him would likely find him an affable and pleasant person, if a touch full of himself.
It also served as a distraction, giving Selina the chance to listen in on the other conversations, her lips pursing ever so slightly as she heard the colorful 'truth' that Salamah told about his origins.
Laurent
Jamilla, for her part, noticed Selina's lack of engagement and decided to remedy that. She likely knew that Selina was keeping aloof for very specific reasons, but she was quite smart, and far more loyal to her husband than he was to her, and so she smiled and asked, "May I sit here?" she asked, getting ready to shift from her seat to the one next to Selina. Her smile was so polite as to be forbidding. Forbidding of what? Well, saying no, for one.
ser Noche
The hovershuttle started a gradual descent towards the carved stone walls of Taishijan below, turning in a slow arc to grant the best view possible to its occupants. The guide smiled serenely and occasionally provided a tidbit if prompted, but otherwise mostly left the occupants to their conversation. It would be a little longer before the castle was reached - a minute or two at the most.
Sternseher
Turning to look at the other woman, the Duchess offered a smile in return and nodded. It certainly wasn't the gracious, elegantly practiced and faked smile that Salamah or his cohorts could pull off, but it seemed to have at least a hint of genuine feeling behind it.
"Certainly... I hope you don't mind my saying so, but your family has a lovely transport craft. What House produced the vessel? I noticed their insignia beneath your own."
Laurent
"Artis. They do good work don't they. My husband made a deal with them...mutually beneficial. He could get you in contact with them," Jamilla suggested, "Much could be done by my husband to aid you."
Her smile was quite genuine, but it was clear that, at the same time, she was making her own plans...plans remarkably similar to those that Salamah held for Bundar...
Sternseher
Her smile faded a little and she folded her hands in her lap, looking at the woman and addressing her far more directly than most noble-born people would be accustomed to. Someone who had 'learned' the game might even be a bit thrown off by it, but it was likely they'd be able to get their footing back quickly enough.
"You're insinuating that we might be in a position to form an alliance with one another, yes? That's certainly something I've considered. As the leader of House Sternseher, it is my duty to push us forward as best I can in this new age of prosperity and growth we've reached. We're currently one of the largest agricultural markets in the region, and we're in the process of building that up even further..."
Allowing the woman a chance to take it all in for a moment, she then went on. "Obviously the three houses represented in this wagon are of little importance in the grand scheme of things... but together that wouldn't be quite so, would it?"
Al Saffah
Humble courtier turned miner? Bundar may not be strictly able to discern what the actual truth is, but he has been taught to take nothing at face value- and, bluntly, to leave the guesswork and the details to someone smarter than he. Although he isn't the only one listening to Selina's words, and Qaribah, although she says nothing of it, abruptly comes to the conclusion that Salamah himself had, shortly before. There is indeed an election coming- and, while their three houses are of little importance by themselves, combined as a voting block? They might well be worth notice, and a possible factor that could swing the election.
Laurent
Jamilla smiled, nodded, having gotten her point across.
Salamah, for his part, glanced out of their transportation. He turned to Bundar and said, "Well, I believe we are about to arrive."
Al Saffah
"Do not worry about it," Bundar says quietly to Salamah, with an idle wave of his hand, as if brushing away the issue. "No offense was taken." That there will be an election at the end of the year hasn't escaped his notice, either, although his thinking doesn't extend as far as the Duke's- as far as he's concerned, it will be beneficial to his house to back the winning party- and House ser Noche does, in his estimation at least, have a good chance of being that winning party. He looks out at the rock spires, out to sea, picturing the size of the crater that must've existed before it was filled in. All in all, it seems remarkable that there's even a city here at all right now, if that was the scale of the damage.
Laurent
It was all a balancing act. The lesser Noble houses didn't have people focusing that much strength on their complete and total destruction, but they had not even a fraction of the resources even the smallest House could bring to bear. He had known enough men and women who lost everything during the Triumvirate and, for a few, after it...the fact that the average House didn't give them more than a passing thought didn't stop the missiles, did not truly do as much.
It was a marvel though, what technology could do. He had heard the ser Noches were advanced, and this just seemed more proof.
The Triumvirate...he had neither publically come out for or against it during that time: not that he could have been anything more than a tick on the Triumvirate's ankle, to be crushed off-hand if he had gone against them, and would have been of little use if he'd sided with them...but still, there were some courtiers and lesser noble houses who had picked which side they thought would win.
He had not approved of the sort of ideas Goman had possessed...but he had stayed carefully neutral. He smiled at Bundar, his eyes moving towards the third party. Three really was an elegant number, wasn't it? Salamah knew he shouldn't plan for things that he wasn't sure would come to pass: an alliance, working with the ser Noches, becoming rich...all of those were possibilities alone.
“I am glad to hear it.” As they rode along, Salamah asked, “May I ask what field you have taken up as your own?” What 'Sphere' in other words, in the strange lingo that old Houses used.
Al Saffah
"We al Saffahs have been merchants for a long time," Bundar replies amiably. "Just, until recently, we never traded off-planet. But now... I suppose there are certain expectations of a noble house, hmm? Along with all the new opportunities!" He chuckles, looking out across the sea, towards the horizon. "I only plan on things getting better, from here. More planets... we have a new trading post here on Algol, now." He cants his head on one side, curiously. "What about yourself?"
Laurent
"I am nothing more than a humble courtier turned miner," and if someone believed that, there were many things that could be sold to such a fool, "Though I might get into trading..."
He frowned thoughtfully. There was a market, perhaps. It would be something to think about.
"I don't have anything near here...the costs would be a bit restrictive." Salamah shrugged and looked back to the head of Sternseher, "May I ask what your interest is?"
Sternseher
Happy to leave the conversations to the others, Selina crossed her arms and settled a bit more comfortably into her wagon, enjoying the view with a very slight smile on her face. Her brother-in-law, on the other hand, did his utmost to 'covertly' flirt with the driver and woman giving the tour whenever she wasn't occupied with her duties of explaining where they were. Nagi was rather charismatic though, and despite his shameful display, those around him would likely find him an affable and pleasant person, if a touch full of himself.
It also served as a distraction, giving Selina the chance to listen in on the other conversations, her lips pursing ever so slightly as she heard the colorful 'truth' that Salamah told about his origins.
Laurent
Jamilla, for her part, noticed Selina's lack of engagement and decided to remedy that. She likely knew that Selina was keeping aloof for very specific reasons, but she was quite smart, and far more loyal to her husband than he was to her, and so she smiled and asked, "May I sit here?" she asked, getting ready to shift from her seat to the one next to Selina. Her smile was so polite as to be forbidding. Forbidding of what? Well, saying no, for one.
ser Noche
The hovershuttle started a gradual descent towards the carved stone walls of Taishijan below, turning in a slow arc to grant the best view possible to its occupants. The guide smiled serenely and occasionally provided a tidbit if prompted, but otherwise mostly left the occupants to their conversation. It would be a little longer before the castle was reached - a minute or two at the most.
Sternseher
Turning to look at the other woman, the Duchess offered a smile in return and nodded. It certainly wasn't the gracious, elegantly practiced and faked smile that Salamah or his cohorts could pull off, but it seemed to have at least a hint of genuine feeling behind it.
"Certainly... I hope you don't mind my saying so, but your family has a lovely transport craft. What House produced the vessel? I noticed their insignia beneath your own."
Laurent
"Artis. They do good work don't they. My husband made a deal with them...mutually beneficial. He could get you in contact with them," Jamilla suggested, "Much could be done by my husband to aid you."
Her smile was quite genuine, but it was clear that, at the same time, she was making her own plans...plans remarkably similar to those that Salamah held for Bundar...
Sternseher
Her smile faded a little and she folded her hands in her lap, looking at the woman and addressing her far more directly than most noble-born people would be accustomed to. Someone who had 'learned' the game might even be a bit thrown off by it, but it was likely they'd be able to get their footing back quickly enough.
"You're insinuating that we might be in a position to form an alliance with one another, yes? That's certainly something I've considered. As the leader of House Sternseher, it is my duty to push us forward as best I can in this new age of prosperity and growth we've reached. We're currently one of the largest agricultural markets in the region, and we're in the process of building that up even further..."
Allowing the woman a chance to take it all in for a moment, she then went on. "Obviously the three houses represented in this wagon are of little importance in the grand scheme of things... but together that wouldn't be quite so, would it?"
Al Saffah
Humble courtier turned miner? Bundar may not be strictly able to discern what the actual truth is, but he has been taught to take nothing at face value- and, bluntly, to leave the guesswork and the details to someone smarter than he. Although he isn't the only one listening to Selina's words, and Qaribah, although she says nothing of it, abruptly comes to the conclusion that Salamah himself had, shortly before. There is indeed an election coming- and, while their three houses are of little importance by themselves, combined as a voting block? They might well be worth notice, and a possible factor that could swing the election.
Laurent
Jamilla smiled, nodded, having gotten her point across.
Salamah, for his part, glanced out of their transportation. He turned to Bundar and said, "Well, I believe we are about to arrive."
Monday, May 20, 2013
RP Logs: Paying Respects, part V: ser Noche
ser Noche
The late morning suns shone down on Algol, and the spire with the landing pad provided a spectacular view across the rocky precipice it towered over, and out over the seas with their particular purply hue. There's a bit of wind, and the water ripples slightly across the panorama, with larger crests in the distance. Occasional crags jut out from the water in dark-grey solemnity.
Below, the carved stone of Taishijan, the ancestral fortress of the ser Noches, reflected the bright light of the blue and green sun with a dull glow, and below that the outlines of the shore of the capital city Saberai were visible. The waves rolled in on a sandy-pebbly beach, which from up here seemed a creamy gray colour. The water itself turned to a vivid jade colour as the ground below it rose to meet the waterline.
From the nave of the spire, a door opens, and a young woman in a simple but stylish dress of black and white walks towards the group, followed by a small hovering wagon with an open top, fitted with purple-upholstered seats.
"Welcome to Taishijan, noble sers and lasies." She made a deep bow to the assembled group. "I hope you have not waited undue long, there was a little delay over the access protocol for the Oculus.
"May I inquire, is this the full size of the group going down to Taishijan, or are we awaiting more visitors? If there are three or more people coming I will call a larger shuttle, it only seats eight."
Taishijan art: http://inwiki.wikispot.org/Algol_%28Capricorn%29?action=Files&do=view&target=Taishijan.jpg
Laurent
Salamah considered the matter. His whole family had come, which was both an advantage: they were there and not elsewhere, bothering him, but at the same time, including them would be troublesome.
He allowed none of his indecision to be shown as he said, "My wife and brother will be here presently, but the rest can wait in the ship. That is three for our party, so if each of the others only has the people before us, we can go momentarily," he suggested.
He tapped his wrist, and from the ship came first his wife, her hair long, silky and blonde, showing none of her fifty-five years, in a dress of green and gold. Her skin is as pale as Salamah's is a dark bronze She approaches, her every movement as graceful as Salamah's, and she, unlike him, allows some of her wonder to show as she looks upon Taishijan.
Salamah, well, there was nothing quite so impressive that he'd ever seen, and that included Azha. He had lived there for a while, and found it far less impressive than this sight. "Will Marcus be joining us."
"I do think so..." and out stepped Marcus, in perfectly proper Noble clothing, sure, but with none of the style or flair of the others. It hits very few grace notes even if it avoids the general pitfall of over-extravegence. His hair is dark, like his brother's, and his skin is a half-shade darker than Salmah's. His eyes are a slightly hazy brown, and while he hasn't given in to fat, there is, already--and he is Salamah's kid brother--signs of inactivity. He smiles pleasantly at all involved and said, "Greetings, all..." he glanced around, and there is a hungriness in the look of his eyes, a desperation. Salamah's smile faltered a bit, but only for a second.
"We are all assembled, then?"
Sternseher
Duchess Selina seemed far less bothered by Salamah's need to 'lead' the group of nobles, simply folding her hands in front of herself and nodding in agreement to his question. Nagi (Chikanaga) stepped in close and whispered something into her ear, and she smiled and glanced away from the young woman leading the 'carriage' and took a moment to look out at the city below them. It truly was a beautiful sight, and she took in a deep breath and forced herself to remember that, at the moment, she was breathing a completely different world's air.
Her brother-in-law shared in her enjoyment before she turned to the young woman again and bowed her head politely to someone who was, in all likelihood, no more than a commoner worker. "I'd like to extend House Sternseher's thanks for the prompt and warm greeting, as well as the offer of transportation."
Selina looked to the other newcomers as they hurried on out in their own time, Nagi's eyes lighting up a little bit at he saw Salamah's wife. Hopefully the flirt wouldn't cause his sister-in-law any problems!
Al Saffah
Bundar takes a few moments to drink in the spectacular view spread out around the landing pad- so much different to anything back home! Sheratan seems a little quaint and backward by comparison. "Yes, yes, this is all on my side." He turns to approach the wagon, giving Salamah's wife a courteous nod, Qaribah in tow. It had been agreed beforehand that it was best for her to stay in her father's shadow as much as is practical- it wouldn't do for anybody else to figure out that she's there as as essential aide more than anything else.
Laurent
Salamah, of course, saw through it. Sort of. He could hardly from his limited data draw the exact conclusion, but he was a very smart man, a genius in fact, and quite socially adept. That Bundar had brought only one person implied trust, that the person was his daughter suggested that, quite possibly, it was deserved. He valued family, after all, a minor miracle considering he hated most of his that was still living...and loved them still. And the way they acted, the way she kept in the shadows...she had seem relationships like that before.
He and his family piled into the vehicle after Bundar. He sat next to Bundar while a movement of his head had Marcus near the back, and Jamilla, his wife, near where Qaribah was sitting, behind Salamah and Bundar.
With luck his wife could talk to her and Marcus could continue his months-long streak, though he doubted it with a sinking feeling.
But for the moment, he had his own goal. He sat down easily next to Bundar and turned, smiling, radiating sincerity as he said, “I am sorry if I gave the wrong impression when speaking to the Duchess. I did not mean any disrespect that came from it.”
Shockingly, so much that he almost allowed it to show on his face...he wasn't lying. Not entirely, at least. Within his sincere look was a small nugget of real sincerity, absolutely indistinguishable from his cleverly made fake deposits. He was actually slightly sorry, at least partially because his mind was already beginning to form a few ideas.
Part of them would have to include a closer relationship between the three parties...and perhaps a discussion or two with Lady Ser Noche. While he waited for the reply he recalled, with the sort of headlong giddiness he always felt (but never showed) when an idea was coming together in the mind, that this was the fifth year of the reign of House Redwater and that, if all went as it should, there would be another election before too long...
Sternseher
Taking a keen interest in the 'driver' of the hover-wagon, Selina's brother-in-law would take the closest seat possible he could to her, trying to engage in some friendly banter and chatting. The Duchess herself didn't seem to mind if he occupied himself with the help for a bit, and settled in the far back where she would have a greater chance of being alone. She wasn't unaware of the fact that this might make her seem rude, but she wasn't the type to constantly keep playing the charade most nobles did.
This wasn't to say she was cold, or didn't try to be friendly and polite, but there was only so much she could take. More than that, she had a lot on her mind, and so she enjoyed the view while mulling over a dozen different thoughts after she was comfortably settled and ready for their ride to begin.
Laurent
Her closest company was Marcus, who was, fortunately enough, not the sort to engage her in any banter. On the other hand, he fully had the power to annoy her a bit. He cleared his throat and politely asked up to the driver, "Excuse me," he was not a boor, though next to his brother he had none of his charm, "Will there be a reception, with...drinks?"
Jamilla cut in and said, "Non-alcoholic, of course. Salamah and Marcus are not the sort to get drunk," and her voice on saying Marcus became this very subtle thing. It was quite clear that she was passing on a message to the driver. The message, if the driver had any grasp of social subtleties, was 'Marcus and alcohol do not mix.'
ser Noche
As the group piled into the eight-seater overwagon, the woman stepped in last and sat down. The machine lifted off the ground silently and slid away from the tall spire. The antigravity unit made it feel as if the open shuttle was hardly moving at all, and only the slightly increased breeze betrayed to motion.
"We will descend momentarily to the older section of Taishijan, where the residences are. We hava a reception prepared, where the Lady ser Noche will meet up with you. You may decide whether you wish to discuss matters with the Lady privately or at the reception, either is fine. Lady Nora is always happy to see emerging clan leaders who pay interest to the goings-on in Capricorn, and she was happy to hear of your arrival.
"In the meanwhile, I am allowed to give you a short tour of the greater Saberai area, if you would like it. We are currently flying above the major structures of Taishijan, the ancestral fortress of the ser Noches. The original structure was carved from the rock formation into the structure at the base, and later expanded with structures in and atop the rock. Sadly, the current-day state is not the original, even though it resembles it in minute detail.
"If you look below, you will see a large hollow in this particular formation, which is partially natural, but it has been enlarged to fit more construction for the capital city, Saberai. What you can see here is actually only a small part of the city as most of it is underground. This has proved a good thing, because in the recent war with the now deposed Triumvirate, the forces of the Canaigh warfleet laid waste to Algol, and the area where we are flying now was reduced to a wide crater. It was a sad day, but we are glad of our technological progress, and we can proudly say that we have been able to use matter reconstruction technology to refill the entire crater left by the nuclear bombing."
The woman smiles brightly, and waves a hand over the surrounding area - not merely the humongous rock facade, but also indicating several of the rocky spires out into the ocean. From her indication, the area affected was immense, several tens of kilometers in diameter.
New cast: House ser Noche is an incredibly powerful House who opposed the Imperial Administration and the tyranny of House Goman. Their current Head, Lady ser Noche, was the runner up in the last Imperial Election, getting three votes to Yale Redwater's seven...a new election is approaching (or, by the time this is published, has passed, actually.)
The late morning suns shone down on Algol, and the spire with the landing pad provided a spectacular view across the rocky precipice it towered over, and out over the seas with their particular purply hue. There's a bit of wind, and the water ripples slightly across the panorama, with larger crests in the distance. Occasional crags jut out from the water in dark-grey solemnity.
Below, the carved stone of Taishijan, the ancestral fortress of the ser Noches, reflected the bright light of the blue and green sun with a dull glow, and below that the outlines of the shore of the capital city Saberai were visible. The waves rolled in on a sandy-pebbly beach, which from up here seemed a creamy gray colour. The water itself turned to a vivid jade colour as the ground below it rose to meet the waterline.
From the nave of the spire, a door opens, and a young woman in a simple but stylish dress of black and white walks towards the group, followed by a small hovering wagon with an open top, fitted with purple-upholstered seats.
"Welcome to Taishijan, noble sers and lasies." She made a deep bow to the assembled group. "I hope you have not waited undue long, there was a little delay over the access protocol for the Oculus.
"May I inquire, is this the full size of the group going down to Taishijan, or are we awaiting more visitors? If there are three or more people coming I will call a larger shuttle, it only seats eight."
Taishijan art: http://inwiki.wikispot.org/Algol_%28Capricorn%29?action=Files&do=view&target=Taishijan.jpg
Laurent
Salamah considered the matter. His whole family had come, which was both an advantage: they were there and not elsewhere, bothering him, but at the same time, including them would be troublesome.
He allowed none of his indecision to be shown as he said, "My wife and brother will be here presently, but the rest can wait in the ship. That is three for our party, so if each of the others only has the people before us, we can go momentarily," he suggested.
He tapped his wrist, and from the ship came first his wife, her hair long, silky and blonde, showing none of her fifty-five years, in a dress of green and gold. Her skin is as pale as Salamah's is a dark bronze She approaches, her every movement as graceful as Salamah's, and she, unlike him, allows some of her wonder to show as she looks upon Taishijan.
Salamah, well, there was nothing quite so impressive that he'd ever seen, and that included Azha. He had lived there for a while, and found it far less impressive than this sight. "Will Marcus be joining us."
"I do think so..." and out stepped Marcus, in perfectly proper Noble clothing, sure, but with none of the style or flair of the others. It hits very few grace notes even if it avoids the general pitfall of over-extravegence. His hair is dark, like his brother's, and his skin is a half-shade darker than Salmah's. His eyes are a slightly hazy brown, and while he hasn't given in to fat, there is, already--and he is Salamah's kid brother--signs of inactivity. He smiles pleasantly at all involved and said, "Greetings, all..." he glanced around, and there is a hungriness in the look of his eyes, a desperation. Salamah's smile faltered a bit, but only for a second.
"We are all assembled, then?"
Sternseher
Duchess Selina seemed far less bothered by Salamah's need to 'lead' the group of nobles, simply folding her hands in front of herself and nodding in agreement to his question. Nagi (Chikanaga) stepped in close and whispered something into her ear, and she smiled and glanced away from the young woman leading the 'carriage' and took a moment to look out at the city below them. It truly was a beautiful sight, and she took in a deep breath and forced herself to remember that, at the moment, she was breathing a completely different world's air.
Her brother-in-law shared in her enjoyment before she turned to the young woman again and bowed her head politely to someone who was, in all likelihood, no more than a commoner worker. "I'd like to extend House Sternseher's thanks for the prompt and warm greeting, as well as the offer of transportation."
Selina looked to the other newcomers as they hurried on out in their own time, Nagi's eyes lighting up a little bit at he saw Salamah's wife. Hopefully the flirt wouldn't cause his sister-in-law any problems!
Al Saffah
Bundar takes a few moments to drink in the spectacular view spread out around the landing pad- so much different to anything back home! Sheratan seems a little quaint and backward by comparison. "Yes, yes, this is all on my side." He turns to approach the wagon, giving Salamah's wife a courteous nod, Qaribah in tow. It had been agreed beforehand that it was best for her to stay in her father's shadow as much as is practical- it wouldn't do for anybody else to figure out that she's there as as essential aide more than anything else.
Laurent
Salamah, of course, saw through it. Sort of. He could hardly from his limited data draw the exact conclusion, but he was a very smart man, a genius in fact, and quite socially adept. That Bundar had brought only one person implied trust, that the person was his daughter suggested that, quite possibly, it was deserved. He valued family, after all, a minor miracle considering he hated most of his that was still living...and loved them still. And the way they acted, the way she kept in the shadows...she had seem relationships like that before.
He and his family piled into the vehicle after Bundar. He sat next to Bundar while a movement of his head had Marcus near the back, and Jamilla, his wife, near where Qaribah was sitting, behind Salamah and Bundar.
With luck his wife could talk to her and Marcus could continue his months-long streak, though he doubted it with a sinking feeling.
But for the moment, he had his own goal. He sat down easily next to Bundar and turned, smiling, radiating sincerity as he said, “I am sorry if I gave the wrong impression when speaking to the Duchess. I did not mean any disrespect that came from it.”
Shockingly, so much that he almost allowed it to show on his face...he wasn't lying. Not entirely, at least. Within his sincere look was a small nugget of real sincerity, absolutely indistinguishable from his cleverly made fake deposits. He was actually slightly sorry, at least partially because his mind was already beginning to form a few ideas.
Part of them would have to include a closer relationship between the three parties...and perhaps a discussion or two with Lady Ser Noche. While he waited for the reply he recalled, with the sort of headlong giddiness he always felt (but never showed) when an idea was coming together in the mind, that this was the fifth year of the reign of House Redwater and that, if all went as it should, there would be another election before too long...
Sternseher
Taking a keen interest in the 'driver' of the hover-wagon, Selina's brother-in-law would take the closest seat possible he could to her, trying to engage in some friendly banter and chatting. The Duchess herself didn't seem to mind if he occupied himself with the help for a bit, and settled in the far back where she would have a greater chance of being alone. She wasn't unaware of the fact that this might make her seem rude, but she wasn't the type to constantly keep playing the charade most nobles did.
This wasn't to say she was cold, or didn't try to be friendly and polite, but there was only so much she could take. More than that, she had a lot on her mind, and so she enjoyed the view while mulling over a dozen different thoughts after she was comfortably settled and ready for their ride to begin.
Laurent
Her closest company was Marcus, who was, fortunately enough, not the sort to engage her in any banter. On the other hand, he fully had the power to annoy her a bit. He cleared his throat and politely asked up to the driver, "Excuse me," he was not a boor, though next to his brother he had none of his charm, "Will there be a reception, with...drinks?"
Jamilla cut in and said, "Non-alcoholic, of course. Salamah and Marcus are not the sort to get drunk," and her voice on saying Marcus became this very subtle thing. It was quite clear that she was passing on a message to the driver. The message, if the driver had any grasp of social subtleties, was 'Marcus and alcohol do not mix.'
ser Noche
As the group piled into the eight-seater overwagon, the woman stepped in last and sat down. The machine lifted off the ground silently and slid away from the tall spire. The antigravity unit made it feel as if the open shuttle was hardly moving at all, and only the slightly increased breeze betrayed to motion.
"We will descend momentarily to the older section of Taishijan, where the residences are. We hava a reception prepared, where the Lady ser Noche will meet up with you. You may decide whether you wish to discuss matters with the Lady privately or at the reception, either is fine. Lady Nora is always happy to see emerging clan leaders who pay interest to the goings-on in Capricorn, and she was happy to hear of your arrival.
"In the meanwhile, I am allowed to give you a short tour of the greater Saberai area, if you would like it. We are currently flying above the major structures of Taishijan, the ancestral fortress of the ser Noches. The original structure was carved from the rock formation into the structure at the base, and later expanded with structures in and atop the rock. Sadly, the current-day state is not the original, even though it resembles it in minute detail.
"If you look below, you will see a large hollow in this particular formation, which is partially natural, but it has been enlarged to fit more construction for the capital city, Saberai. What you can see here is actually only a small part of the city as most of it is underground. This has proved a good thing, because in the recent war with the now deposed Triumvirate, the forces of the Canaigh warfleet laid waste to Algol, and the area where we are flying now was reduced to a wide crater. It was a sad day, but we are glad of our technological progress, and we can proudly say that we have been able to use matter reconstruction technology to refill the entire crater left by the nuclear bombing."
The woman smiles brightly, and waves a hand over the surrounding area - not merely the humongous rock facade, but also indicating several of the rocky spires out into the ocean. From her indication, the area affected was immense, several tens of kilometers in diameter.
New cast: House ser Noche is an incredibly powerful House who opposed the Imperial Administration and the tyranny of House Goman. Their current Head, Lady ser Noche, was the runner up in the last Imperial Election, getting three votes to Yale Redwater's seven...a new election is approaching (or, by the time this is published, has passed, actually.)
Saturday, May 18, 2013
RP logs, Paying Respects, part IV: Third Party
((Continued directly from Part III))
House Sternseher
Out of all the other visitors, it was the newcomer (and-for the time being-the latest to arrive) that was closest. The planet Diphda was one of Algol’s ‘close neighbors’, being only a scant couple hundred light years away. Pulling into a smooth parking orbit, the vessel in question was shaped somewhat like that of a clam. While previously a light, armored cargo ship, it had since been redesigned.
The aft half of each part of the cargo bay has been split in two, leaving less than half the typical cargo space, but adding on one larger crew quarters to fit nobility and a private kitchen, dining, and recreational area. The paint job would also match their crest for the ship (red, black, and hold), and while it's been well-maintained and kept in good repair, it was obviously a somewhat older model. Some of the weapons have also been removed in favor of things like extra decoys and jammers, for few respectable Noble houses would be running around toting all the guns they could find!
Once the ship had settled properly into its holding restraints, a large hatch opening a set of stairs and rails quickly pushing out rather than a docking tube. One of the ship's crew, likely the security officer, stepped out for a moment and surveyed the port before disappearing inside.
Two other figures soon emerged, making their way down the automated gantry supported steps. The first was a woman, still relatively young with long brown hair, pale skin, and a pair of grey-blue eyes hidden behind a set of old-fashioned spectacles. She wore a long gown, the corset being the only 'enhancement' to her figure, with colors designed to match that of her house. Somewhat small, she seemed to wear only minimal make-up, and a single ring on her right hand for jewelry.
The man behind her was quite a bit different. With an olive complexion and dark black hair swept short and almost untidily back, he was a foot taller than her and dressed in shades of black, grey, and purple. He had more defined cheekbones than her softer face did, and an air of energy about him that was almost infectious. Pausing at the bottom of the steps, the two turned to one another to converse quietly, well within view of the other gathering nobles.
((References - The ship: http://breandan-ociarrai.deviantart.com/art/Dark-Nova-Sparrowhawk-Deckpla-169866132
Duchess Selina: http://safebooru.org/index.php?page=post&s=view&id=870155
Her dress: http://the-zombie-cat.deviantart.com/art/Blood-Elven-Noble-Colored-Sketch-Commission-338000017
And her cousin 'Nagi', the gentleman standing: http://lelia.deviantart.com/art/Commision-Abel-and-Costea-178412537 ))
Al Saffah
Qaribah clearly has enough control over herself that her countenance doesn't flicker, leaving Salamah only able to guess at what lies beneath it. "Indeed," Bundar says with a more open smile- if what wrinkles he had acquired didn't hint at it enough, the Emir would seem to be a man of good humor. "I can understand entirely. We only recently celebrated my own son's first year." He chuckles, shaking his head at the thought. "I would imagine that any formal function he attended would soon be rendered.... somewhat less than decorous."
He glances off to the side, Qaribah's gaze following his, the new arrivals having drawn his attention. "Hmm... I don't believe I recognize those colors," he says, thoughtfully, but not loudly enough to carry to the new arrivals- the remark is hardly an insult but some nobles can be notoriously touchy.
"Quite a coincidence," Qaribah comments, quietly. "Three noble houses landing at the same spaceport, within minutes of one another. Were I reading of these events in a work of fiction, I would think them quite contrived."
Laurent
Salamah glanced at the other pair and asked, "Contrived by who, though? It is not chance, but it is," he assured her, even as he began to plan to turn these events to his favor,"Coincidence. No doubt the other House has as good of a reason as we do. Speaking of, perhaps you would care to join me in greeting them?"
He asked, glancing over at the other family. The woman was clearly in charge, mid thirties, and the man was her...husband? No, that didn't seem to fit. Relative, then? They didn't look it, but it could be an 'in law' or it could be just a trick of genetics. Although, in some noble families, Salamah allowed himself to think as he slowly and confidently strode towards the other House, whether backed by the other two or not, the two were...not so different.
Al Saffah
Well, why not? "Certainly, your Grace," Bundar says, and follows Salamah- well, that is, he moves towards the newcomers, quickening his step a little so that he's walking beside the Duke rather than following behind him- a small distinction, but an important one.
Laurent
Salamah smiles at the pair and says, "Good morning, I am Duke Salamah Laurent, and this is Emir Bundar Al Saffah, and it seems the both of us are here to pay respects to the Lady Ser Noche." He smiled winningly, though he had, looking at the pair, decided that she was not seducable, and that to try would make him look far too condescendingly, no lust in that smile. "And we were wondering," and by using 'we' he, in a very polite way, took control of the situation, "What brings you here."
Sternseher
The two had been seen speaking to one another in somewhat hushed voices, the woman gently tugging and adjusting her dress here and there as the man gestured with one hand while the other hand clutched what appeared to be a small rectangular package. He was the first to notice others approaching, glancing over and blinking once before his mouth formed into an almost infectious grin, which took a gentle swat to one arm from the elegantly dressed woman to tame into something somewhat more presentable for an occasion as this.
"I am Duchess Selina Sternseher." the woman responded with in a calm and somewhat distant tone, not entirely taking Salamah's bait entirely as her eyes moved from one man to the other. "The ruffian beside me is my brother-in-law, Chikanaga Sternseher, my brother-in-law."
"It's a pleasure to meet you both! Despite my lacking a regal upbringing as my dutiful sister-in-law will so gladly point out at every social event, I think you'll find I've been 'in the family' long enough to be on my best behavior." His darker eyes lit up with mischief, but before he could continue on, Selina let out a soft sigh and then gave her own smile. It was a somewhat tired expression, but it showed off that she wasn't some grump, for the smile lines along the sides of her mouth and eyes were more apparent when she did.
"As to why we're here, I thought it prudent to pay my respects to Lady Ser Noche as well. My House has begun construction of our first agricultural facility here, and since the journey wasn't far, I thought it prudent to drop in and take care of a few administrative details while I'm on planet."
She paused before looking to them both again. "It would seem that, since we're already all here, it might be best if we all went together."
Al Saffah
"Emir Bundar Al Saffah is quite capable of introducing himself," Bundar says with an aside glance to Salamah, although his smile doesn't slip for even a second- not even a hint of anything other than good humor in his tone. "But thank you, nonetheless." Then he bows formally, though not terribly gracefully. "A pleasure, your Grace. What fortune it is, hmm? That the three of us should be standing here today in common purpose."
New Cast:
House Sternseher:
House Sternseher
Out of all the other visitors, it was the newcomer (and-for the time being-the latest to arrive) that was closest. The planet Diphda was one of Algol’s ‘close neighbors’, being only a scant couple hundred light years away. Pulling into a smooth parking orbit, the vessel in question was shaped somewhat like that of a clam. While previously a light, armored cargo ship, it had since been redesigned.
The aft half of each part of the cargo bay has been split in two, leaving less than half the typical cargo space, but adding on one larger crew quarters to fit nobility and a private kitchen, dining, and recreational area. The paint job would also match their crest for the ship (red, black, and hold), and while it's been well-maintained and kept in good repair, it was obviously a somewhat older model. Some of the weapons have also been removed in favor of things like extra decoys and jammers, for few respectable Noble houses would be running around toting all the guns they could find!
Once the ship had settled properly into its holding restraints, a large hatch opening a set of stairs and rails quickly pushing out rather than a docking tube. One of the ship's crew, likely the security officer, stepped out for a moment and surveyed the port before disappearing inside.
Two other figures soon emerged, making their way down the automated gantry supported steps. The first was a woman, still relatively young with long brown hair, pale skin, and a pair of grey-blue eyes hidden behind a set of old-fashioned spectacles. She wore a long gown, the corset being the only 'enhancement' to her figure, with colors designed to match that of her house. Somewhat small, she seemed to wear only minimal make-up, and a single ring on her right hand for jewelry.
The man behind her was quite a bit different. With an olive complexion and dark black hair swept short and almost untidily back, he was a foot taller than her and dressed in shades of black, grey, and purple. He had more defined cheekbones than her softer face did, and an air of energy about him that was almost infectious. Pausing at the bottom of the steps, the two turned to one another to converse quietly, well within view of the other gathering nobles.
((References - The ship: http://breandan-ociarrai.deviantart.com/art/Dark-Nova-Sparrowhawk-Deckpla-169866132
Duchess Selina: http://safebooru.org/index.php?page=post&s=view&id=870155
Her dress: http://the-zombie-cat.deviantart.com/art/Blood-Elven-Noble-Colored-Sketch-Commission-338000017
And her cousin 'Nagi', the gentleman standing: http://lelia.deviantart.com/art/Commision-Abel-and-Costea-178412537 ))
Al Saffah
Qaribah clearly has enough control over herself that her countenance doesn't flicker, leaving Salamah only able to guess at what lies beneath it. "Indeed," Bundar says with a more open smile- if what wrinkles he had acquired didn't hint at it enough, the Emir would seem to be a man of good humor. "I can understand entirely. We only recently celebrated my own son's first year." He chuckles, shaking his head at the thought. "I would imagine that any formal function he attended would soon be rendered.... somewhat less than decorous."
He glances off to the side, Qaribah's gaze following his, the new arrivals having drawn his attention. "Hmm... I don't believe I recognize those colors," he says, thoughtfully, but not loudly enough to carry to the new arrivals- the remark is hardly an insult but some nobles can be notoriously touchy.
"Quite a coincidence," Qaribah comments, quietly. "Three noble houses landing at the same spaceport, within minutes of one another. Were I reading of these events in a work of fiction, I would think them quite contrived."
Laurent
Salamah glanced at the other pair and asked, "Contrived by who, though? It is not chance, but it is," he assured her, even as he began to plan to turn these events to his favor,"Coincidence. No doubt the other House has as good of a reason as we do. Speaking of, perhaps you would care to join me in greeting them?"
He asked, glancing over at the other family. The woman was clearly in charge, mid thirties, and the man was her...husband? No, that didn't seem to fit. Relative, then? They didn't look it, but it could be an 'in law' or it could be just a trick of genetics. Although, in some noble families, Salamah allowed himself to think as he slowly and confidently strode towards the other House, whether backed by the other two or not, the two were...not so different.
Al Saffah
Well, why not? "Certainly, your Grace," Bundar says, and follows Salamah- well, that is, he moves towards the newcomers, quickening his step a little so that he's walking beside the Duke rather than following behind him- a small distinction, but an important one.
Laurent
Salamah smiles at the pair and says, "Good morning, I am Duke Salamah Laurent, and this is Emir Bundar Al Saffah, and it seems the both of us are here to pay respects to the Lady Ser Noche." He smiled winningly, though he had, looking at the pair, decided that she was not seducable, and that to try would make him look far too condescendingly, no lust in that smile. "And we were wondering," and by using 'we' he, in a very polite way, took control of the situation, "What brings you here."
Sternseher
The two had been seen speaking to one another in somewhat hushed voices, the woman gently tugging and adjusting her dress here and there as the man gestured with one hand while the other hand clutched what appeared to be a small rectangular package. He was the first to notice others approaching, glancing over and blinking once before his mouth formed into an almost infectious grin, which took a gentle swat to one arm from the elegantly dressed woman to tame into something somewhat more presentable for an occasion as this.
"I am Duchess Selina Sternseher." the woman responded with in a calm and somewhat distant tone, not entirely taking Salamah's bait entirely as her eyes moved from one man to the other. "The ruffian beside me is my brother-in-law, Chikanaga Sternseher, my brother-in-law."
"It's a pleasure to meet you both! Despite my lacking a regal upbringing as my dutiful sister-in-law will so gladly point out at every social event, I think you'll find I've been 'in the family' long enough to be on my best behavior." His darker eyes lit up with mischief, but before he could continue on, Selina let out a soft sigh and then gave her own smile. It was a somewhat tired expression, but it showed off that she wasn't some grump, for the smile lines along the sides of her mouth and eyes were more apparent when she did.
"As to why we're here, I thought it prudent to pay my respects to Lady Ser Noche as well. My House has begun construction of our first agricultural facility here, and since the journey wasn't far, I thought it prudent to drop in and take care of a few administrative details while I'm on planet."
She paused before looking to them both again. "It would seem that, since we're already all here, it might be best if we all went together."
Al Saffah
"Emir Bundar Al Saffah is quite capable of introducing himself," Bundar says with an aside glance to Salamah, although his smile doesn't slip for even a second- not even a hint of anything other than good humor in his tone. "But thank you, nonetheless." Then he bows formally, though not terribly gracefully. "A pleasure, your Grace. What fortune it is, hmm? That the three of us should be standing here today in common purpose."
New Cast:
House Sternseher:
| Duchess Selina Sternseher - House Leader - 38 years old. | |||||||||||
| An idle, ordinary intellectual. She is a poor duellist and an accomplished administrator. | |||||||||||
Head of Agriculture.
|
Thursday, May 16, 2013
RP logs, Paying Respects, part III: Introductions
((Continued from Part II))
7th of Faith, still
Laurent
Salamah's features are handsome, if angular, his skin a dark bronzed color, his eyes as green as a healthy tree. His clothing included a deep red shirt, tight fit, trimmed with golden cloth, with slightly flashy cuffs. He wears long dark-blue pants, fine material which has a shade that quite compliiments the red, with the gold tying the colors together. His outfit ends in dark green shoes, or perhaps they are black, it is dark enough in colors to be either. All in all, he doesn't look like a man who is only two years younger than Bundar, especially not with his longish, silky looking black hair.
He gave a charming, even sincere-looking smile and began to walk towards Bundar, "Hail," Salamah said, "I am Duke Salamah of House Laurent."
Al Saffah
Bundar smiles amiably back- dullard he may be, but he is a dullard who has been taught etiquette. "Greetings to you, Duke Salamah Laurent," he says with a slight bow. "I am Bundar Al Saffah, Emir of House Al Saffah of Sheratan. Have you travelled far?" Another very minor noble house might be potential competition, but could also be a valuable friend. At present he's relying on Qaribah to inform him of her impression later, much as he would with Bushra.
Laurent
Quite far, Honorable Emir. Though one can say that I have done much travelling, recently. Some months ago I took up residence on Alshain Magna, which does not have as much unfrozen water on the whole planet as is evident around us now."
"I have come to discuss something with the House Ser Noche. A private matter, I'm sure you will understand." He was watching Bundar's reaction, and apparently got enough out of it to say, perceptively, "It seems you too are here to see the Lady Ser Noche."
"Might I be so intemporate as to return the question: have you travelled far?" He asked Bundar, but he also had half an eye on Qaribah, as if they were the only two people to come--and that might or might not be so--that would mean she was important, smart...or that he didn't trust her to be left alone. At the moment he didn't have enough evidence to come to a conclusion, so he held any judgements.
Al Saffah
Bundar nods understandingly- private matters are private matters, after all. "Indeed, indeed," she says in response to Salamah's deduction. "And, not greatly. Sheratan is a mere few sectors away from Algol- I do not think I can be faulted for seeking to pay my respects to a most esteemed neighbor, mmm?" Nobody else seems to be emerging from the Al Saffah ship, for now at least. "But ah, I forget my manners! May I present my eldest child, Qaribah." Qaribah, for her part, bows her head slightly, smiling warmly, with every bit as much apparent sincerity as Salamah.
Laurent
Is it a horrible thing that Salamah does not, for a second, think the smile could be genuine? Doesn't even assign it a probability. Likely yes, but quite understandable, really.
He made a slight gesture with his right hand, and turned it into a sweeping bow as his surveillance devices on his wife activated. Ah, she was still getting everything together.
"I am charmed and delighted to meet you, Qaribah," he said, as he finished his sweeping, flourishing--but not low enough to be anything more than that of a Head of a Noble House to the...honored daughter of another.
His smile changed slightly, to add a bit more masculine charm to the smile he gave Qaribah, just to see her reaction, before his smile, and his gaze, shifted back to Bundar, "It is a joy to have children, Honorable Emir, is it not? Especially children as charming and lovely as her. I myself have a son, though he is only two, and not quite yet fit, let us say," he said, his smile growing slightly humorous, "To greet Nobles of other Houses."
7th of Faith, still
Laurent
Salamah's features are handsome, if angular, his skin a dark bronzed color, his eyes as green as a healthy tree. His clothing included a deep red shirt, tight fit, trimmed with golden cloth, with slightly flashy cuffs. He wears long dark-blue pants, fine material which has a shade that quite compliiments the red, with the gold tying the colors together. His outfit ends in dark green shoes, or perhaps they are black, it is dark enough in colors to be either. All in all, he doesn't look like a man who is only two years younger than Bundar, especially not with his longish, silky looking black hair.
He gave a charming, even sincere-looking smile and began to walk towards Bundar, "Hail," Salamah said, "I am Duke Salamah of House Laurent."
Al Saffah
Bundar smiles amiably back- dullard he may be, but he is a dullard who has been taught etiquette. "Greetings to you, Duke Salamah Laurent," he says with a slight bow. "I am Bundar Al Saffah, Emir of House Al Saffah of Sheratan. Have you travelled far?" Another very minor noble house might be potential competition, but could also be a valuable friend. At present he's relying on Qaribah to inform him of her impression later, much as he would with Bushra.
Laurent
Quite far, Honorable Emir. Though one can say that I have done much travelling, recently. Some months ago I took up residence on Alshain Magna, which does not have as much unfrozen water on the whole planet as is evident around us now."
"I have come to discuss something with the House Ser Noche. A private matter, I'm sure you will understand." He was watching Bundar's reaction, and apparently got enough out of it to say, perceptively, "It seems you too are here to see the Lady Ser Noche."
"Might I be so intemporate as to return the question: have you travelled far?" He asked Bundar, but he also had half an eye on Qaribah, as if they were the only two people to come--and that might or might not be so--that would mean she was important, smart...or that he didn't trust her to be left alone. At the moment he didn't have enough evidence to come to a conclusion, so he held any judgements.
Al Saffah
Bundar nods understandingly- private matters are private matters, after all. "Indeed, indeed," she says in response to Salamah's deduction. "And, not greatly. Sheratan is a mere few sectors away from Algol- I do not think I can be faulted for seeking to pay my respects to a most esteemed neighbor, mmm?" Nobody else seems to be emerging from the Al Saffah ship, for now at least. "But ah, I forget my manners! May I present my eldest child, Qaribah." Qaribah, for her part, bows her head slightly, smiling warmly, with every bit as much apparent sincerity as Salamah.
Laurent
Is it a horrible thing that Salamah does not, for a second, think the smile could be genuine? Doesn't even assign it a probability. Likely yes, but quite understandable, really.
He made a slight gesture with his right hand, and turned it into a sweeping bow as his surveillance devices on his wife activated. Ah, she was still getting everything together.
"I am charmed and delighted to meet you, Qaribah," he said, as he finished his sweeping, flourishing--but not low enough to be anything more than that of a Head of a Noble House to the...honored daughter of another.
His smile changed slightly, to add a bit more masculine charm to the smile he gave Qaribah, just to see her reaction, before his smile, and his gaze, shifted back to Bundar, "It is a joy to have children, Honorable Emir, is it not? Especially children as charming and lovely as her. I myself have a son, though he is only two, and not quite yet fit, let us say," he said, his smile growing slightly humorous, "To greet Nobles of other Houses."
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