Session 101 - The Eldest Daughter
The carriage pulls to a stop. The twin chocobos at the head of the carriage, clad in crimson and silver bardings, shift their weight as they hold position, but these chocobos are far too well-trained to misbehave.
Down a secluded hallway, Yves Mjrwin regales Millicent Albarea with the tale of the tense negotiation with the rogue Guardian Force Diabolos, the mighty serpent coiled around the airship writing its screed across the deep purple skies as the brave shadowseer stands against the otherworldly force, though there are a thesis’s worth of footnotes repeatedly interjected into the story. Isa told Yves something about the Albarea family and how they relate to the Oslers, but Yves is telling the story now, once he clarifies the nature of the wings’ membranes.
The driver holds the door open.
With a drink in hand and a dubious smile on his face, Bast listens to Nils and Kjier Osler share their findings on impractical applications of bluespirit ore, especially how it relates to setting people on fire when they are too far away for conventional flammability tests. Weaving other elements in seems both difficult and unusual dinner conversation, but the Osler family is certainly unusual. The captain’s practiced eye cannot help but appraise the value of everything around him, the numbers settling in between ‘unreasonable’ and ‘unjustifiable.’
A silver heeled boot steps down onto the unrolled carpet, before the hem of the ball gown swishes down over it.
Without his sketchbook, Orrey Alyon is adrift in the sea of high society. He watches the one-armed warrior, Baron Claussell, depart. In just a few sentences, Claussell showed he knew who Orrey was, who Orrey was with, where Orrey was from, and that he knew more about what was going on than Orrey did. A trail of cigar smoke connects the artist to the warrior, if only for the moment.
The gown is a rich crimson, cascading down her frame, shifting abruptly to white at the knees, curving up at the ankles to showcase the luxurious boots, a statement of implacable power, then sweeping down behind her to almost brush the ground. The shoulders and sides are accented with a flair of silver, the lines drawn in to accent the cut of the craftmanship in the dress as much as the shape of the woman wearing it, though there is no mistaking the fact that the sparkling lines are meant to call to mind pauldrons. White gloves start at the elbow, one swirl of red curling down the arm like a dancing flame that dies before it reaches the back of her hand, and the glove leaves her first and fourth fingers bare — the better attention to draw to the centuries-old rings she wears.
Linnet Leveche finishes recovering her composure by the food, trying not to smile overmuch at the back of the mad journalist Wedge. A friendly face in a thicket of spears is never unwelcome, though usually it is Linnet filling that role for everyone else. Enough time has passed for her to track down the rest of the group, but the commotion at the ornate entryway is perhaps more intriguing in the moment.
Doors open for her.
Her reputation precedes her.
The spotlight awaits her.
Isaline Osler stands at attention, looking at a woman that may as well be a mountain and a hurricane in one, though no muscle twitches to betray anything in the younger Osler’s mind. The weight of the Osler name pushes down on her in the presence of the matriarch, but the pressure brings nothing new with it. She opens her mouth to say her piece.
“Lady Myrta Osler!”
It is time.
**
Isa falls into step behind her mother, as they are joined by a man in his middle years with a sandy-blonde beard and a woodsman's build. Compared to her sister she may well be invisible, but she does not seem troubled by this.
Orrey walks over to stand nearer to Isa, sipping at his drink as he can't help but compare the two Oslers.
"--which meant that there wasn't a practical way to analyze the body structure afterward from the smaller attackers, though I have since asked--" Yves breaks off at that distant announcement, because at least this name he remembers. "--oh! I need to go be, uh, proper, or something like it, for a few moments. But if you're interested, I can certainly talk more about the chemical composition theories I have based on some later tests, afterwards." As he explains, he's already heading back toward that central room, still rather pleased with himself for not having caused scandal, offense, or furor anywhere at this party yet. Yes. He is definitely acing this.
(Linnet falls in behind Bast and Yves and restrains the twin urges to shut Yves up and to press him for juicy details.)
Bast looks over at the announcement and murmurs a quiet "Shall we?" over the pyromaniac Oslers' explanation of the brisance of powdered bluespirit, making his way closer to Isa.
Lady Myrta Osler lets the applause last two seconds longer than 'gracious' and into 'expected,' but then she smiles, broad and welcoming. "On behalf of the House of Osler, allow me to bid you all welcome to our celebration. It gladdens me greatly to see so many of you here." She gives a slender young man with silver-gray hair dipped in green accents, a man that is younger than any of the party and a good deal younger than Lady Myrta, a special nod of notice. "Do not be overconcerned with decorum and status for the rest of the evening, please; we wish to speak to any and all of you." She claps her hands twice, and the band resumes playing.
Greetings given, she sweeps over to Her Grace for a very warm (for Cardia) greeting, gently taking her hands and drawing in for the suggestion of a hug. "Thank you, Mother," she says. "It is a delight to see you again." Isa leans slightly towards her father, so as not to impose on her mother. "I should introduce my crew," she murmurs to him, "when Myr has a free moment."
As the head and heir of the Osler family converse, Andrin Osler angles down closer to his younger daughter. "Yes," he agrees. "She has asked after you in her letters. She will be glad to see how you have been."
"I've been having adventures," Isa says drily, before turning towards her sister with a nod and a smile. After exchanging a similar greeting with her father, returning his playful jab about busy schedules with a sly smile and a mention of towering ledgers, Myrta turns her attention to Isa.
Yves, remembering various discussions before the party--he took notes, but it doesn't seem like the best time to consult the notebook in question--drifts toward Isa, aiming for a distance where he can safely be ignored or introduced as the Tactical Officer deems fit. Because he doesn't know much about high society parties, but he's pretty sure they require tactics. Probably strategy. Possibly even logistics, though they seem to outsource those to staff.
Myrta reaches out and clasps both of Isa's hands inside of her own. "It has been too long, Isaline," she says with all apparent honesty. "Please, tell me how you have been and what you have been doing during your time away from Cardia." She sweeps her gaze across the party, mirroring how Count Osler took their measure in an instant on their first meeting. "These must be your new friends. I trust you have been treated well during your time under Osler hospitality?"
"Myrta," Isa says without rancor. "My fellow officers of the Starfall. And my friends, yes."
"The Starfall," Myrta says, presenting the blank for the second half of the explanatory sentence.
"Our ship. It's an antique, but it gets the job done."
Yves, showing valor and restraint under challenging conditions, does not qualify, expand upon, argue with, or in any way raise a peep about the description of the most beautiful piece of engineering (with serious ethical problems, but probably most engineering has that, right?) that he has ever had the privilege to know as an 'antique'.
"I should very much like to see it," Myrta says. "Though do not take that as any sort of obligation, of course," she adds as a carefully-crafted afterthought.
Isa's smile does not waver. "It's your birthday, sister. How could we deny you?"
"I must go speak with Varun first, but if you would indulge your sister on her birthday, Isaline, I would greatly appreciate it. Please, relax and enjoy yourself. All of you," she says to the group at large. "I will come by to see you again shortly."
Yves attempts to look relaxed and enjoyable. Enjoying? Enjoyment...adjacent? Like he's having a good time at this party. In a proper but slightly foreign way. Mostly he just stands there.
"It would be our pleasure." Bast smiles, temporarily free of the Osler uncles, and watches Myrta's retreating back with only a faint hint of tension around his mouth.
Orrey nods to Isa and her sister in acknowledgement and then joins the rest of the crew. "Meet anyone interesting?"
Isa looks around at the party crowd. "I hope so. Plenty of interesting guests tonight."
"A one handed fellow with a two handed sword seemed to know an awful lot about me. And us." Orrey watches Isa for her response.
Isa blinks, at that, and gives her father a glance. "Baron Claussel is here?"
"I ran into that, uh, hm, an interesting woman who I might have met before, though I think it might not have been me, and..." Yves gives up on attempting to explain who he means. "She was much more interested in some of my observations on the metaphysical properties of summoned creatures who are really subsets of the summoner rather than distinct entities in their own right than I would have expected. I may need to write up some of the details to send to her later."
"That's quite a specific interest. Found a fellow researcher, I take it?" Bast asks without a hint of sarcasm. "That Varun that Myrta mentioned, I'm surprised he's here, considering his Traditional leanings." Orrey muses as he takes another sip of his wine and checks his watch.
"He is indeed," Andrin Osler says. "Your mother extended the invitation."
"No," Yves says slowly to Bast, "I don't think so, but maybe she just hasn't found a reason to start really digging into the journals yet. Everyone has to start somewhere."
Isa's eyebrow lifts. "Well that is interesting."
"You are thinking about moving in that direction? Sorry if I'm a bit indirect. I'm just not quite so used to Cardian politics, where you all talk about things so openly." Orrey says, betraying his Saronian shadow politics background and a slight prejudice towards Cardians.
Linnet catches Isa's eye, shrugs, and goes back to her Thinking Look, moving a finger slightly to outline where everyone fits in this vast and complicated web.
Yves fishes out a small discreet notebook. He dressed for a fancy party, so he's only brought one very small one. "Maybe I should give her some citations that should be reasonably accessible for a new enthusiast, in case we don't have a chance to talk again later. Just a moment..." He wanders back in the direction where he last saw Millicent, trying to remember the best journals for this sort of thing, and which of them are available in--oh, well, she's rich, surely she can get a subscription if she wants one.
Isa shrugs to Orrey. "I thought about joining his company at one point. I should go see how he's doing."
"Nils seems to be doing better since our last meeting." Bast tips his head in the direction of the Viscount and his husband, presently deep in conversation with another guest.
Andrin Osler sighs, after Isa's mention of interesting party invitees. Andrin Osler would prefer things be less interesting, but Andrin Osler always prefers things be a little less interesting. If the viera boy had fewer piercings, that would be less interesting, for instance.
Baron Claussell is currently sharing stories with a fairly large group of men and women of similar age, though none of them can hold a candle to his physical conditioning.
Yves does persist in being somewhat interesting (despite occasional efforts to the contrary) and with much jewelry (which is on purpose). "So," Andrin Osler says gruffly into the silence. He looks down at Bast. One does not marry into the Osler family without taking on some of their traits and learning a few of their skills.
"You are my daughter's captain."
"Guilty." Bast nods with a faint smile.
"Not at the moment, you're not. If you'd just wear the hat, someday you'd make a truly captainly impression." Linnet winks at him. "Bast here is the tactical genius behind keeping our ship actually flying. Your daughter does most of the battle-side planning. Between the two of them, we generally come out on top."
"We try not to lean on her skills overmuch, but when the need arises, she has been..." Bast thinks for a moment. "Unstoppable."
The slightly raised eyebrows Isa's father directs at her say "co-captain?" with the beginnings of pride.
"We did try to make Isa captain. She flat-out refused. So we don't use the title." Linnet gives Lord Osler a not-quite-wink of "you know how it really is."
"Baron," Isa says, presenting herself to Claussell without quite standing at attention.
"Isa Osler," Baron Claussell says, resting his hand on his hip. "I wondered what it would take to get you back in Cardia. Just an invitation you couldn't refuse, eh?"
"It's my sister's birthday," Isa points out, "how could I stay away? Enjoying your evening?"
"I am. Your mother brings out the good drinks for these occasions." He nods to the last of the assembled group to depart, leaving just he and Isa speaking. "Heard you found good work chasing down Guardian Forces."
Isa collects a drink of her own from a passing server, and takes a swallow. "Strange hours, low pay, incredible danger. It's a living."
"One you're happy with?" he asks.
Isa covers a moment's thought with another swallow of her drink. "It's an opportunity to put my skills to use," she finally says, "they don't mind that I didn't finish my time at the Academy."
"But you do," Baron Claussell does not say. Instead, he rolls his cigar between his fingers thoughtfully. "When your tour of duty is over," he says, "you'd be welcome in the Palatinate Gospel." He grins. "Anyone who's braved the Howling Eye is welcome in our little family."
Linnet gives him a one-eyebrowed suspicious glare behind his back.
Isa coughs. "You're well informed," she says.
"Yep." He chews on the cigar for a moment as he pulls out a tin, then slips the cigar inside it and back into his jacket. "Your mother wants to speak to me, so unfortunately we'll have to pick this up later. Take care of yourself, Osler."
Isa nods. "You too," she says, and sets to looking around the party.
"What is this?" Millicent Albarea asks Yves, holding a small piece of paper in her hands but not looking at it.
"I thought you might want to know more about some of what we were discussing earlier," Yves says, a bit shyly, "since you seemed interested. I used the standard Mechanon citation style, so it should be easy to find everything on the list. Just if you happened to feel like it. I know not everyone really wants to get deeply into..." He makes a little offhand gesture with one hand. "Well. Chemistry. And so forth."
Millicent looks at the paper, and then at Yves. And then the paper, and then Yves. And then again the paper, and then once again at Yves.
Yves' gaze is full of sincerity and barely restrained enthusiasm for more about metaphysical magitech chemistry field research.
"I don't know how you can pull off dangerous, sexy, and adorable, but!" she squeaks. "For you, Yves Mjrwin? I will read these books. What I don't understand I'm sure you can tell me. And..." she reaches out and brushes her fingers along his arm as she walks past him back into the party, "what you don't understand, I'm sure I can show you."
"I look forward to it," Yves says to Millicent, "whenever we're next able to meet," and with a spring in his step, he returns toward Isa and his friends in turn.
Bast falls in by Isa's side as the conversation breaks up. "My Cardian politics are a little rusty, but the Palatinate Gospel sounds...unusual?"
Isa looks at Bast, shrugs. "Chasseurs love to give themselves names like that. It's a reputation thing. Unlikely to forget them, hm?"
Linnet back-translates. "...hunter? I only know that word from a sauce. Something to do with either scouts or cavalry, and based on that name I'm guessing it's not scouts?"
"Mercenaries," Isa explains. "Since Cardia isn't trying to conquer Ducorde, all us soldiers have to do something with our time."
"The crown has control of the national fleets, and each house maintains their own, but there's still a lot of people out there well-trained in violence and looking for ways to put that training to use." Isa smiles a bit. "Better than banditry, hm?"
"Um. Probably?" (Linnet has no informed opinion on this.)
“Isn’t war just banditry between nations instead of individuals?” Orrey asks innocently.
"...Orrey, you were doing so well," Linnet mutters through her teeth.
Orrey shrugs. “Truth is important to acknowledge. War is brutal, but sometimes necessary. Or so it seems in the histories.”
Isa nods to Orrey. "You're not wrong there. The necessity of banditry is debatable though."
Lady Myrta Osler approaches. "Isaline, if now is a good time?" she suggests, indicating that of course it is.
Orrey murmurs to Linnet behind his drink, “She manages to command even when asking politely?”
"It's a talent," Linnet murmurs back.
“Impressive.” Orrey blushes slightly, probably from the drink.
Isa nods to her sister. "We were discussing the moral foundations of war, but we can always pick it up later. Can I introduce you?"
"By all means."
Yves is by now back with the others, looking as if he is, in fact, enjoying this party. Rather more than he expected.
Isa squares her shoulders, and counts off. "Lady Myrta, may I present the command staff of the Starfall. Orrey Alyon, Linnet Leveche, Yves Mjrwin, and our Captain, Bast." To her crew, "My sister, heir to her house, Lady Myrta Osler."
“Happy Birthday, my Lady.” Orrey attempts something like a bow, spoiled a bit by holding the glass of wine and having his little sketchbook fall out of his pocket. “Pleased…” he grabs his book in his other hand as he rises, only not spilling due to having drained most of the cup, “to meet you.”
Yves bobs a polite nod to Myrta as well. "It's been such a fascinating experience here!" he says, still full of joy and sincerity at this unexpectedly non-terrible fancy party.
Myrta chuckles lightly at Orrey's slight stumbling over himself. "And I, you," she says to him.
"I am delighted to hear that you have had such a wonderful time with us here, Yves Mjrwin," she replies.
Linnet makes an elegant leg and sweeps a not-too-deep curtsy. "Our deepest congratulations on the occasion, Lady Myrta, and our happiest thanks for the invitation. We may be a bit dazzled, but your sister has been an excellent guide."
"It has been a pleasure to host you, Linnet Leveche. I only wish I could have spent more time with you to better get to know you," Myrta says with a sly smile.
Bast, hands behind his back, offers a slight bow. "Thank you for having us. Osler hospitality and such a happy occasion? Our fortunes are looking up indeed."
"The working crew is on shore leave, so we'll be here for a few days," Isa points out. "Plenty of time to talk."
Bast, Myrta favors with a brilliant smile and a small nod.
"I wouldn't take up too much of your time. An antique sailing the skies, though? I simply cannot keep the idea from my thoughts. A short tour is all the present I would ever request."
"And one that we will gladly arrange, though it is some distance from here just now. Perhaps in the next couple of days?" Bast glances at Isa.
Isa nods. "If you'd like to come with us to retrieve the rest of our crew, we can show you around then. But having your officers show up for shore leave is bad for morale, so please forgive the delay."
"Of course," she says. "I should like that very much. Oh, Isaline," she says, partway through turning back to the party. "Did Mother make her request of you?" Isa nods. "She did. We didn't get a chance to discuss it yet."
"Terribly sorry it happened on this day of all days. I hoped it would just be a pleasant visit for all, but there is always work to be done," she says. "If you will excuse me, though, I have yet to give my regards to Baron Claussell, after he came all the way."
"Of course," Isa says. "Happy birthday, Myr."
Something in the façade cracks. "Thank you, Is."
Down a secluded hallway, Yves Mjrwin regales Millicent Albarea with the tale of the tense negotiation with the rogue Guardian Force Diabolos, the mighty serpent coiled around the airship writing its screed across the deep purple skies as the brave shadowseer stands against the otherworldly force, though there are a thesis’s worth of footnotes repeatedly interjected into the story. Isa told Yves something about the Albarea family and how they relate to the Oslers, but Yves is telling the story now, once he clarifies the nature of the wings’ membranes.
The driver holds the door open.
With a drink in hand and a dubious smile on his face, Bast listens to Nils and Kjier Osler share their findings on impractical applications of bluespirit ore, especially how it relates to setting people on fire when they are too far away for conventional flammability tests. Weaving other elements in seems both difficult and unusual dinner conversation, but the Osler family is certainly unusual. The captain’s practiced eye cannot help but appraise the value of everything around him, the numbers settling in between ‘unreasonable’ and ‘unjustifiable.’
A silver heeled boot steps down onto the unrolled carpet, before the hem of the ball gown swishes down over it.
Without his sketchbook, Orrey Alyon is adrift in the sea of high society. He watches the one-armed warrior, Baron Claussell, depart. In just a few sentences, Claussell showed he knew who Orrey was, who Orrey was with, where Orrey was from, and that he knew more about what was going on than Orrey did. A trail of cigar smoke connects the artist to the warrior, if only for the moment.
The gown is a rich crimson, cascading down her frame, shifting abruptly to white at the knees, curving up at the ankles to showcase the luxurious boots, a statement of implacable power, then sweeping down behind her to almost brush the ground. The shoulders and sides are accented with a flair of silver, the lines drawn in to accent the cut of the craftmanship in the dress as much as the shape of the woman wearing it, though there is no mistaking the fact that the sparkling lines are meant to call to mind pauldrons. White gloves start at the elbow, one swirl of red curling down the arm like a dancing flame that dies before it reaches the back of her hand, and the glove leaves her first and fourth fingers bare — the better attention to draw to the centuries-old rings she wears.
Linnet Leveche finishes recovering her composure by the food, trying not to smile overmuch at the back of the mad journalist Wedge. A friendly face in a thicket of spears is never unwelcome, though usually it is Linnet filling that role for everyone else. Enough time has passed for her to track down the rest of the group, but the commotion at the ornate entryway is perhaps more intriguing in the moment.
Doors open for her.
Her reputation precedes her.
The spotlight awaits her.
Isaline Osler stands at attention, looking at a woman that may as well be a mountain and a hurricane in one, though no muscle twitches to betray anything in the younger Osler’s mind. The weight of the Osler name pushes down on her in the presence of the matriarch, but the pressure brings nothing new with it. She opens her mouth to say her piece.
“Lady Myrta Osler!”
It is time.
**
Isa falls into step behind her mother, as they are joined by a man in his middle years with a sandy-blonde beard and a woodsman's build. Compared to her sister she may well be invisible, but she does not seem troubled by this.
Orrey walks over to stand nearer to Isa, sipping at his drink as he can't help but compare the two Oslers.
"--which meant that there wasn't a practical way to analyze the body structure afterward from the smaller attackers, though I have since asked--" Yves breaks off at that distant announcement, because at least this name he remembers. "--oh! I need to go be, uh, proper, or something like it, for a few moments. But if you're interested, I can certainly talk more about the chemical composition theories I have based on some later tests, afterwards." As he explains, he's already heading back toward that central room, still rather pleased with himself for not having caused scandal, offense, or furor anywhere at this party yet. Yes. He is definitely acing this.
(Linnet falls in behind Bast and Yves and restrains the twin urges to shut Yves up and to press him for juicy details.)
Bast looks over at the announcement and murmurs a quiet "Shall we?" over the pyromaniac Oslers' explanation of the brisance of powdered bluespirit, making his way closer to Isa.
Lady Myrta Osler lets the applause last two seconds longer than 'gracious' and into 'expected,' but then she smiles, broad and welcoming. "On behalf of the House of Osler, allow me to bid you all welcome to our celebration. It gladdens me greatly to see so many of you here." She gives a slender young man with silver-gray hair dipped in green accents, a man that is younger than any of the party and a good deal younger than Lady Myrta, a special nod of notice. "Do not be overconcerned with decorum and status for the rest of the evening, please; we wish to speak to any and all of you." She claps her hands twice, and the band resumes playing.
Greetings given, she sweeps over to Her Grace for a very warm (for Cardia) greeting, gently taking her hands and drawing in for the suggestion of a hug. "Thank you, Mother," she says. "It is a delight to see you again." Isa leans slightly towards her father, so as not to impose on her mother. "I should introduce my crew," she murmurs to him, "when Myr has a free moment."
As the head and heir of the Osler family converse, Andrin Osler angles down closer to his younger daughter. "Yes," he agrees. "She has asked after you in her letters. She will be glad to see how you have been."
"I've been having adventures," Isa says drily, before turning towards her sister with a nod and a smile. After exchanging a similar greeting with her father, returning his playful jab about busy schedules with a sly smile and a mention of towering ledgers, Myrta turns her attention to Isa.
Yves, remembering various discussions before the party--he took notes, but it doesn't seem like the best time to consult the notebook in question--drifts toward Isa, aiming for a distance where he can safely be ignored or introduced as the Tactical Officer deems fit. Because he doesn't know much about high society parties, but he's pretty sure they require tactics. Probably strategy. Possibly even logistics, though they seem to outsource those to staff.
Myrta reaches out and clasps both of Isa's hands inside of her own. "It has been too long, Isaline," she says with all apparent honesty. "Please, tell me how you have been and what you have been doing during your time away from Cardia." She sweeps her gaze across the party, mirroring how Count Osler took their measure in an instant on their first meeting. "These must be your new friends. I trust you have been treated well during your time under Osler hospitality?"
"Myrta," Isa says without rancor. "My fellow officers of the Starfall. And my friends, yes."
"The Starfall," Myrta says, presenting the blank for the second half of the explanatory sentence.
"Our ship. It's an antique, but it gets the job done."
Yves, showing valor and restraint under challenging conditions, does not qualify, expand upon, argue with, or in any way raise a peep about the description of the most beautiful piece of engineering (with serious ethical problems, but probably most engineering has that, right?) that he has ever had the privilege to know as an 'antique'.
"I should very much like to see it," Myrta says. "Though do not take that as any sort of obligation, of course," she adds as a carefully-crafted afterthought.
Isa's smile does not waver. "It's your birthday, sister. How could we deny you?"
"I must go speak with Varun first, but if you would indulge your sister on her birthday, Isaline, I would greatly appreciate it. Please, relax and enjoy yourself. All of you," she says to the group at large. "I will come by to see you again shortly."
Yves attempts to look relaxed and enjoyable. Enjoying? Enjoyment...adjacent? Like he's having a good time at this party. In a proper but slightly foreign way. Mostly he just stands there.
"It would be our pleasure." Bast smiles, temporarily free of the Osler uncles, and watches Myrta's retreating back with only a faint hint of tension around his mouth.
Orrey nods to Isa and her sister in acknowledgement and then joins the rest of the crew. "Meet anyone interesting?"
Isa looks around at the party crowd. "I hope so. Plenty of interesting guests tonight."
"A one handed fellow with a two handed sword seemed to know an awful lot about me. And us." Orrey watches Isa for her response.
Isa blinks, at that, and gives her father a glance. "Baron Claussel is here?"
"I ran into that, uh, hm, an interesting woman who I might have met before, though I think it might not have been me, and..." Yves gives up on attempting to explain who he means. "She was much more interested in some of my observations on the metaphysical properties of summoned creatures who are really subsets of the summoner rather than distinct entities in their own right than I would have expected. I may need to write up some of the details to send to her later."
"That's quite a specific interest. Found a fellow researcher, I take it?" Bast asks without a hint of sarcasm. "That Varun that Myrta mentioned, I'm surprised he's here, considering his Traditional leanings." Orrey muses as he takes another sip of his wine and checks his watch.
"He is indeed," Andrin Osler says. "Your mother extended the invitation."
"No," Yves says slowly to Bast, "I don't think so, but maybe she just hasn't found a reason to start really digging into the journals yet. Everyone has to start somewhere."
Isa's eyebrow lifts. "Well that is interesting."
"You are thinking about moving in that direction? Sorry if I'm a bit indirect. I'm just not quite so used to Cardian politics, where you all talk about things so openly." Orrey says, betraying his Saronian shadow politics background and a slight prejudice towards Cardians.
Linnet catches Isa's eye, shrugs, and goes back to her Thinking Look, moving a finger slightly to outline where everyone fits in this vast and complicated web.
Yves fishes out a small discreet notebook. He dressed for a fancy party, so he's only brought one very small one. "Maybe I should give her some citations that should be reasonably accessible for a new enthusiast, in case we don't have a chance to talk again later. Just a moment..." He wanders back in the direction where he last saw Millicent, trying to remember the best journals for this sort of thing, and which of them are available in--oh, well, she's rich, surely she can get a subscription if she wants one.
Isa shrugs to Orrey. "I thought about joining his company at one point. I should go see how he's doing."
"Nils seems to be doing better since our last meeting." Bast tips his head in the direction of the Viscount and his husband, presently deep in conversation with another guest.
Andrin Osler sighs, after Isa's mention of interesting party invitees. Andrin Osler would prefer things be less interesting, but Andrin Osler always prefers things be a little less interesting. If the viera boy had fewer piercings, that would be less interesting, for instance.
Baron Claussell is currently sharing stories with a fairly large group of men and women of similar age, though none of them can hold a candle to his physical conditioning.
Yves does persist in being somewhat interesting (despite occasional efforts to the contrary) and with much jewelry (which is on purpose). "So," Andrin Osler says gruffly into the silence. He looks down at Bast. One does not marry into the Osler family without taking on some of their traits and learning a few of their skills.
"You are my daughter's captain."
"Guilty." Bast nods with a faint smile.
"Not at the moment, you're not. If you'd just wear the hat, someday you'd make a truly captainly impression." Linnet winks at him. "Bast here is the tactical genius behind keeping our ship actually flying. Your daughter does most of the battle-side planning. Between the two of them, we generally come out on top."
"We try not to lean on her skills overmuch, but when the need arises, she has been..." Bast thinks for a moment. "Unstoppable."
The slightly raised eyebrows Isa's father directs at her say "co-captain?" with the beginnings of pride.
"We did try to make Isa captain. She flat-out refused. So we don't use the title." Linnet gives Lord Osler a not-quite-wink of "you know how it really is."
"Baron," Isa says, presenting herself to Claussell without quite standing at attention.
"Isa Osler," Baron Claussell says, resting his hand on his hip. "I wondered what it would take to get you back in Cardia. Just an invitation you couldn't refuse, eh?"
"It's my sister's birthday," Isa points out, "how could I stay away? Enjoying your evening?"
"I am. Your mother brings out the good drinks for these occasions." He nods to the last of the assembled group to depart, leaving just he and Isa speaking. "Heard you found good work chasing down Guardian Forces."
Isa collects a drink of her own from a passing server, and takes a swallow. "Strange hours, low pay, incredible danger. It's a living."
"One you're happy with?" he asks.
Isa covers a moment's thought with another swallow of her drink. "It's an opportunity to put my skills to use," she finally says, "they don't mind that I didn't finish my time at the Academy."
"But you do," Baron Claussell does not say. Instead, he rolls his cigar between his fingers thoughtfully. "When your tour of duty is over," he says, "you'd be welcome in the Palatinate Gospel." He grins. "Anyone who's braved the Howling Eye is welcome in our little family."
Linnet gives him a one-eyebrowed suspicious glare behind his back.
Isa coughs. "You're well informed," she says.
"Yep." He chews on the cigar for a moment as he pulls out a tin, then slips the cigar inside it and back into his jacket. "Your mother wants to speak to me, so unfortunately we'll have to pick this up later. Take care of yourself, Osler."
Isa nods. "You too," she says, and sets to looking around the party.
"What is this?" Millicent Albarea asks Yves, holding a small piece of paper in her hands but not looking at it.
"I thought you might want to know more about some of what we were discussing earlier," Yves says, a bit shyly, "since you seemed interested. I used the standard Mechanon citation style, so it should be easy to find everything on the list. Just if you happened to feel like it. I know not everyone really wants to get deeply into..." He makes a little offhand gesture with one hand. "Well. Chemistry. And so forth."
Millicent looks at the paper, and then at Yves. And then the paper, and then Yves. And then again the paper, and then once again at Yves.
Yves' gaze is full of sincerity and barely restrained enthusiasm for more about metaphysical magitech chemistry field research.
"I don't know how you can pull off dangerous, sexy, and adorable, but!" she squeaks. "For you, Yves Mjrwin? I will read these books. What I don't understand I'm sure you can tell me. And..." she reaches out and brushes her fingers along his arm as she walks past him back into the party, "what you don't understand, I'm sure I can show you."
"I look forward to it," Yves says to Millicent, "whenever we're next able to meet," and with a spring in his step, he returns toward Isa and his friends in turn.
Bast falls in by Isa's side as the conversation breaks up. "My Cardian politics are a little rusty, but the Palatinate Gospel sounds...unusual?"
Isa looks at Bast, shrugs. "Chasseurs love to give themselves names like that. It's a reputation thing. Unlikely to forget them, hm?"
Linnet back-translates. "...hunter? I only know that word from a sauce. Something to do with either scouts or cavalry, and based on that name I'm guessing it's not scouts?"
"Mercenaries," Isa explains. "Since Cardia isn't trying to conquer Ducorde, all us soldiers have to do something with our time."
"The crown has control of the national fleets, and each house maintains their own, but there's still a lot of people out there well-trained in violence and looking for ways to put that training to use." Isa smiles a bit. "Better than banditry, hm?"
"Um. Probably?" (Linnet has no informed opinion on this.)
“Isn’t war just banditry between nations instead of individuals?” Orrey asks innocently.
"...Orrey, you were doing so well," Linnet mutters through her teeth.
Orrey shrugs. “Truth is important to acknowledge. War is brutal, but sometimes necessary. Or so it seems in the histories.”
Isa nods to Orrey. "You're not wrong there. The necessity of banditry is debatable though."
Lady Myrta Osler approaches. "Isaline, if now is a good time?" she suggests, indicating that of course it is.
Orrey murmurs to Linnet behind his drink, “She manages to command even when asking politely?”
"It's a talent," Linnet murmurs back.
“Impressive.” Orrey blushes slightly, probably from the drink.
Isa nods to her sister. "We were discussing the moral foundations of war, but we can always pick it up later. Can I introduce you?"
"By all means."
Yves is by now back with the others, looking as if he is, in fact, enjoying this party. Rather more than he expected.
Isa squares her shoulders, and counts off. "Lady Myrta, may I present the command staff of the Starfall. Orrey Alyon, Linnet Leveche, Yves Mjrwin, and our Captain, Bast." To her crew, "My sister, heir to her house, Lady Myrta Osler."
“Happy Birthday, my Lady.” Orrey attempts something like a bow, spoiled a bit by holding the glass of wine and having his little sketchbook fall out of his pocket. “Pleased…” he grabs his book in his other hand as he rises, only not spilling due to having drained most of the cup, “to meet you.”
Yves bobs a polite nod to Myrta as well. "It's been such a fascinating experience here!" he says, still full of joy and sincerity at this unexpectedly non-terrible fancy party.
Myrta chuckles lightly at Orrey's slight stumbling over himself. "And I, you," she says to him.
"I am delighted to hear that you have had such a wonderful time with us here, Yves Mjrwin," she replies.
Linnet makes an elegant leg and sweeps a not-too-deep curtsy. "Our deepest congratulations on the occasion, Lady Myrta, and our happiest thanks for the invitation. We may be a bit dazzled, but your sister has been an excellent guide."
"It has been a pleasure to host you, Linnet Leveche. I only wish I could have spent more time with you to better get to know you," Myrta says with a sly smile.
Bast, hands behind his back, offers a slight bow. "Thank you for having us. Osler hospitality and such a happy occasion? Our fortunes are looking up indeed."
"The working crew is on shore leave, so we'll be here for a few days," Isa points out. "Plenty of time to talk."
Bast, Myrta favors with a brilliant smile and a small nod.
"I wouldn't take up too much of your time. An antique sailing the skies, though? I simply cannot keep the idea from my thoughts. A short tour is all the present I would ever request."
"And one that we will gladly arrange, though it is some distance from here just now. Perhaps in the next couple of days?" Bast glances at Isa.
Isa nods. "If you'd like to come with us to retrieve the rest of our crew, we can show you around then. But having your officers show up for shore leave is bad for morale, so please forgive the delay."
"Of course," she says. "I should like that very much. Oh, Isaline," she says, partway through turning back to the party. "Did Mother make her request of you?" Isa nods. "She did. We didn't get a chance to discuss it yet."
"Terribly sorry it happened on this day of all days. I hoped it would just be a pleasant visit for all, but there is always work to be done," she says. "If you will excuse me, though, I have yet to give my regards to Baron Claussell, after he came all the way."
"Of course," Isa says. "Happy birthday, Myr."
Something in the façade cracks. "Thank you, Is."
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