Session 52 - Hospitality You Can Count On

Previously, Across the Horizon...
With the fighting in Uhja over, the party set about fixing that by having a lot more.
Perilune stood trial before Isa, Bast, Yves, Orrey, and to a much lesser extent Linnet, tasked with explaining herself as to why every time the party had encountered her, they had been attacked, first by the wisp of a shadow that would become Cinnabar, and then by a much greater threat, the dragon Midgardsormr.
Perilune answered their questions as best as she appeared to be able, speaking of Master Roche, her mentor, who tasked her with finding the stars in the sky as an Astrologian. In the end, the party decided to bring her aboard the Starfall, with plans to get more information from her and, hopefully, avoid becoming the target of any more fallen stars.
They also added three new crew members before leaving Uhja; Natron Rensa, Barea Jidoor, and Ryna Jidoor, all offering their services to aid the party for as long as they would be able.
Upon boarding the ship, though, a fight between Perilune and Apocynthion nearly broke out, both throwing incredibly harsh words and violent accusations at the other, the demure Perilune and the carefree Apocynthion both behaving entirely unlike themselves in the heat of the moment.
Apocynthion assured the captain he would cause no trouble during their mission, though at its conclusion he adamantly requested an audience to settle this matter.
The mission, then, returned to the forefront of the ship's itinerary, with the matter of the AZYS connection to Highwind Research Laboratory as yet unknown, due to the occupation of Osler territory, and when it comes to settling Osler family matters, one needs but contact the head of the Osler family, which means that one member of the party must undertake a most dangerous mission...
**
Not everywhere in Cardia is covered in snow this time of year. Sometimes, it is merely very cold and white, and it would be best if the snow would fall just to overwhelm the brown.
In the absence of color, it falls to travelers to add their own.
The village of Platzhalter, Isa told everyone, served as the home for the Osler family when they would entertain travelers, retire to the country for rest and recuperation, or unleash the children when they were younger upon fields and trees instead of windows and furniture. A quaint little village that mostly existed by accident yet came to thrive, the Osler Estate took up the dragon's share of the land, with a community springing up around it to ensure that everyone's needs were met.
Did those needs include a traveling troupe of bards and actors, storytellers and impressionists, descending upon the good people of Cardia to sing songs and tell tales of legends past?
If so, grand.
If not, Isa reasoned, at least she would be at the estate before anything too terrible happened.
We join our heroes, astride their rented chocobos, on the approach to the third set of gates leading to the current home of the Osler family on this late afternoon of the 25th day of Kuganepo...
"This is... so much... more romantic... and adventurous... in the books..." Yves huffs, having /still/ not figured out exactly how to sit comfortably on a large, moving bird.
Isa seems well-practiced, but enthusiastic, in her riding. "At least these are recreational mounts. War Chocobos are obnoxious."
Yves's chocobo, a sturdy yellow bird with a fan of dancing tailfeathers and a clever glint in its eye, is named Bokoblin, according to the friendly stablemaster who gave Yves a discount, and Bokoblin is prancing up the path.
Linnet has been rehearsing snippets of what sounds like several different shows for the entire trip. It's very difficult to tell what she's trying to put on, but whatever it might be, at least she's enthusiastic. (Fight call was quickly abandoned after she demonstrated no ability to balance on the back of a moving chocobo while wielding a rapier.)
Bast has mostly remained quiet during the ride, not obviously in trouble and focused on keeping it that way. He does venture a "Any idea what kind of reception we're heading into?" to Isa's back.
"This is... on me..." Yves says woefully. "I took drafting for my elective--oof--instead of riding lessons. When I had the chance."
Isa shakes her head. "I couldn't guess under the best of circumstances. Hopefully we can get the information we need to plan our next steps and leave quickly. If we're unlucky, it will be extremely tense. Depends on who all is staying at the estate."
"...sharp looks tense or..." Yves winces at a particularly lively step. "...drawn weapons tense?"
"...so you're saying, probably the stirring ballads rather than the comic ones," Linnet says.
"It won't come to physical violence," Isa says, leaving the options for verbal and emotional still on the table.
The third gate approaches quickly, wrought iron bars shaped into spearpoints at the top, stylized to cross at the entrance.
Ominously, Linnet starts humming "The Impossible Dream" as the chocobos slow their approach.
Isa takes a deep, fortifying breath, and looks ahead at the gate. "Welcome, I guess, to my home."
Yves contemplates the potential varieties of violence available ahead, and appears to decide it's better than riding a chocobo for much longer. "...it looks very...traditional," he says carefully.
"Oh yes. We're a very traditional family."
The gate is unlatched, welcoming any visitors to the Osler home with the understanding that there are never any visitors so no one would never actually need to be welcomed. A young woman -- perhaps 16 -- dashes up as they approach the gate, bowing low as she comes to a respectably elegant stop. "Hello, travelers, and welcome to the Osler Estate," she says, just a hint of anxiety hiding in her voice.
Isa swings down from her mount, holding the reins. "Good morning, Leoni. Will you inform her Grace that I've arrived? She is not expecting me."
Three blinks and a deeper bow. "L-Lady Isa! Yes, absolutely. I will have Denam come for your chocobos as well. Frances will show you inside."
Anxiety exits, stage right, and shortly thereafter someone who could charitably be described as "scrubby" appears to take the birds, cooing gently to them as he leads them back toward the stables.
Isa hands over her reins, and nods to the others to follow suit. "They're from the village stables, but we will be returning with them," she explains to the groom.
"Of course, Lady Isa. I will be sure to take care of them in the meantime, water and greens, plus a spot of grooming," he replies.
"Thank you, Denam."
Yves gives Bokoblin an apologetic pat as he staggers away from the Bird Event. "It's not you, it's me," he whispers to the chocobo.
The Osler Estate is grander than the Valles Estate, possibly the only point of comparison the less noble of the party has for names with capital letters and proper names. It is also very well-maintained, with a fleet of servants moving about, though one has to focus to see them; they are used to keeping out of sight and out of mind. A fine set of fountains, seemingly a requirement for displaying riches and name recognition. Good windows, too.
All of the servants wear the same well-tailored style of predominantly gray uniform, long sleeves and crisp hats.
All of them save one.
If the idea is for servants not to stand out, he must not be one, since he is at least six-foot-nine, with a body like a trapezoid and three feet of light brown braids cascading over his bare shoulders. Tan pants, black tank top two shades darker than his skin, his arms holding at least eighty pounds of gardening equipment with seemingly no difficulty, and a lovely crown of pink peonies on top of his head.
He stops in front of the party, smiles cheerfully, and adjusts his burden to shift it more to one arm. "Hello! Has someone come by to help you already?"
"...yes?" Yves says, blinking up.
Isa tilts her head. "I was expecting Frances. Have you taken up gardening, Owen?"
"Well, great! They run a tight ship around here. I can get these over to the gardeners, then. Wheelbarrow broke down, and there's a shortage on ore, so -- wait, Isa? It's--" he pauses, then manages to get everything under his left arm, shifting his balance over to the right to equal it out. His veins are like cords. "--great to see you, how are you? How long has it been?" One petal of his flower crown drifts down onto the path.
"Last summer, I believe." Isa touches the bun holding her artificially dark hair. "I've been traveling. These are my friends."
"Your friends look amazing. I love the new color! I would have walked right past you and not recognized you, and I would have been so embarrassed! Oh -- I'm gonna be even more embarrassed if I drop this stuff. And then I need to take these peonies inside for your mother, and then it's dinnertime for Tara and Gwen. Tell your mom I said hello!" Owen then walks toward the greenhouse, having forgotten to carry the boxes with both hands, having forgotten to realize it's supposed to be hard.
"...I thought your family were supposed to be scary?" Linnet half-whispers, retracting her wide-eyed stare.
Isa says, "He's not family, he's one of the bo...men from the village."
"Frances," Isa says, nodding. "Sorry for the lack of notice. Is my mother free?"
"She will meet you in the Situation Room," Frances says apologetically.
Yves silently mouths Situation Room to himself.
Linnet has returned to a state of wide-eyed staring and hiding behind Yves. But, y'know, subtly.
Isa loses whatever trace of a smile was starting to form. "I see. Thank you, Frances. I know the way, if you don't mind."
Frances bows.
Bast starts paying more attention to the route through the manor, in case of a Situation arising.
The entrance to the Situation Room is on the western wing of the main building, on the second of three floors. The room itself, however, takes up all three stories, with the south being nothing but windows, gazing out on the entirety of Ducorde beyond the mountains and vast forests, and the north being three stories of detailed map showing the entirety of Ducorde, with the Oslers in between the picture and the picturesque.
Her Grace, the Twenty-Fourth Count Osler, stands between the two, her eyes on the map to her right, her back to the door, a severe blue gown highlighting her height and her shape, reminding everyone present of nothing so much as the traditional Osler spear.
"You may enter," comes her command, without turning around.
Isa holds her hand to her side, indicating that the others can follow but should wait by the door, and takes three steps in. "Your Grace," she says formally. "I apologize for not sending word ahead of my arrival."
Count Osler's eyes flick about in less than a second and then settle on Isa. "No doubt you have your reasons," she says, in such a manner that indicates that the next two sentences are very important ones.
Isa decides on brevity. "I've been to Highwind," is all she says.
"Who are they?" Count Osler asks, eyes measuring Linnet, Yves, Bast, and Orrey inside of half a second.
"Trusted friends," Isa replies, condensing maximum possible meaning.
Yves attempts to look simultaneously trusted, friendly, traditional, and inconspicuous.
Count Osler rests her hands together, fingers all touching at the very tips. "We are aware of the situation at Highwind," she says.
"Kjier has information that we need. He is currently unavailable, but I did not want to disrupt any plans already in process."
"It is well in hand," she says. "What information do you need from him?"
"I chanced across some of his business in Machanon; it's important to me to know if it's his business, Highwind's business, or Osler's business."
"My inclinations for that other way might be construed as indelicate, Your Grace." Isa's eloquence can often be used as an indirect measurement of her frustration. "I would not want to be indelicate."
"You have excelled at avoiding indelicate situations since the summer, Isaline," Count Osler says curtly. "Your efforts have been noted."
Bast knows better than to add his voice to this exchange, but his eyebrows twitch upwards and take several seconds to come back down.
Isa takes a deep breath, and her words have the timbre of excruciatingly careful selection. "I am aware that subtlety was Myrta's curriculum and not mine. However, I am here. And I would be useful, by your leave."
Yves is attempting to fade into the wallpaper, which is difficult to do when a lop-eared viera wearing, as it were, many pieces of flair.
"What would you have me do for your aid, Isaline?" Count Osler asks, turning the full weight of Osler responsibility on her daughter.
From behind, without the benefit of a concealing braid, Isa's shoulders can be seen pulling together, straightening her posture into iron. "If the best way that I can serve Osler is to leave again, I will. If I am to be a vagabond or chasseur to stay clear of matters well in hand, so be it. But if Osler needs me then there is no price, no demand, no exchange that needs to be made. I am aware of my duty and stand ready, Your Grace."
Count Osler measures Isa with her eyes, and then casts her glance aside, out the window, as she thinks.
Her brow furrows.
"...is he taking the crystalware out to the falcons?" she asks very quietly, almost bewildered.
"I'm sorry?" Isa asks, apparently unaware of this particular code phrase.
Count Osler gives Isa the first motherly look she's seen all day, a bit of are-you-kidding-me behind the nobility, as Isa can then see Owen Moda wheeling a serving cart with four place settings on top, game meat cooked and cut, en route to the aviary.
Yves is sufficiently distracted by this sight that he forgets to be anxious for several seconds straight.
Even Linnet's scratching her head at this one.
"He said it was Tara and Gwen's dinner....are there new birds?" Formality is fleeing fast in the face of a well-meaning himbo.
"Yes," comes the equally functional reply. "I merely said they were on a special diet."
"And he's determined to make it special for them."
"Water in champagne flutes, I see."
"He's going to spoil them." Isa says.
She remembers herself after another moment, standing closer to Isa now in their perplexed observation of a very kind man who has forgotten to take off the flower crown. "The matter is well in hand. Your sister is in the capital working. You have been valuable not in your absence, Isaline, but there has been value in your absence."
Isa nods. "The information Kjier has is important, and time is pressing. With your leave, I'd like to show my friends to the guest suites so can discuss it without troubling you. Unless you would care to have me introduce them, first."
"The boy is Orrey Alyon, the son of a printer in Saron who became an understated central figure in their current distraction," she says. "Please, introduce the others."
Isa's eyebrow lifts slightly in acknowledgement of her mother's information. "Linnet Leveche and Yves Mrjwin, scholars of Machanon both. Bast, a Machinist of the Triad. We met by chance on a train to Caerwyn, and have found our association pleasant and beneficial." She turns to the others. "I have the honor of introducing Elina, Count Osler. My mother," she adds, unnecessarily.
"Your Grace." Bast does not attempt any courtesy more complicated than a slight bow.
Linnet presses her hands together and bows deeply, flicking her braid to keep the end off the carpet.
Yves bobs his head anxiously.
Count Osler smiles the blank pleasantries of one who knows that they very rarely have to be the one that is charmed or honored. A servant flickers in and out of attention by the entrance (unnoticed by everyone but Bast, who makes it a priority to notice such things), and the Count turns back to Isa. "A prior engagement. 8:30, here." A beat. "You have kept up your training. Good." Then she is gone.
"...I'm not entirely sure if that went well." Bast quietly remarks once the party have the room to themselves.
Isa sags like someone has cut her down from the gallows. "There was one piece of good news in all of that. My sister isn't here. Let's go somewhere less...official."
Linnet straightens back up and glances around for any further people around whom talking is not supposed to happen.
"At least we haven't been kicked out this time," Yves says, with tentative optimism.
"Nobody's handed us any dead relatives and nobody's trying to get us to steal anything yet, so we're a step up," Linnet replies very quietly.
Isa leads the group out of the Situation Room, through the halls of the estate. The layout is confusing, maze-like...easily defensible. But their path ends at a comfortable suite of rooms decorated with dark, polished wood, leather upholstery, and more than one animal head. The sitting area already has a fire going, and the sideboard is stocked with decanters, from which Isa pours an enthusiastic three fingers of liquor. "That...could have gone worse," she finally says.
"So I take it that was a 'no' on any cooperation regarding getting information out of your uncle." Linnet perches tentatively on the edge of a chair.
Yves surveys the animal heads, and then follows Isa to the decanters. "At least there doesn't seem to be a code language involving dishes after all?"
Isa takes a swallow, then shakes her head. "It was a 'no' on running off to free him and my cousin with cannons a-blaze. Anything else may still be negotiable."
"Oh. What if it's just the one cannon?" Linnet asks.
"We might need more than one cannon to do it," Yves says, pouring himself a drink. He gestures with the decanter to the others, to see if anyone else needs something bracing.
Bast looks up from a fond contemplation of the deep amber liquid in his glass. "What was the distinction on the 'value in your absence' supposed to be?"
Isa drains her glass, sets it down to be refilled. "Yes," she begins, and then performs her second miracle of the day. "I need to apologize to you all. When my mother and I talk, there are...complexities. I'm sorry I couldn't have been clearer, but there is a way things are done between us. She was saying that there are aspects of her plans that include me being out of sight. I don't know what, yet, but I can make some guesses."
"Isa, there's 'complex' and then there's psychological warfare," mutters Linnet. She's given up on the chair and has flopped back on the plush carpet, trying to make sense of the intricately molded ceiling. "So. Are we working with your mother or around your mother, to free your uncle or assist your uncle or avoid your uncle?"
Yves delivers a glass with just a splash of liquid happiness in it to Linnet, in case she wants some company on the carpet.
"That's what we need to talk about. If trying to rescue my uncle by force will interfere with whatever actions she's taking against Albarea, I can't do it. If I can get her to agree to some other way, then we can work that angle. Or, I - we, if you'll agree - can lend our aid to resolve the whole Albarea mess more quickly. Or, and this is really the last resort, we ask her about AZYS directly. My concern there is that if Kjier was acting on his own, she'll be angry with him. And if he was acting on her order, I don't know if she'll answer me."
"We are at your disposal, Isa, and we are reasonably good at keeping our mouths shut until pointed at a problem," Linnet says. She glances at her friends, from the floor. "Sort of. Situationally."
"...getting better at it," Yves says, awkwardly. He has a gulp of his drink, and coughs. "I'm no narc."
"What do you suppose the odds of her being involved are?" Bast takes a long sip of his drink. "Or of Kjier's troubles being connected to what we found? I don't have a clear idea of how much...trouble there is sloshing around in Cardia these days, or how much to expect in the future."
Isa sighs, and pours another drink. "It's...well, to be honest, it's not great. The King is young, and most of the Counts are old, and that's a problem. It'll settle down in a few years, as long as no one is too rash or too stubborn, but if Albarea thinks that this means they can push into our holdings, it means the even if the King hasn't given permission, she hasn't said anything against it. That's...bad."
"The sort of bad that a prudent family might want to stock up on...unconventional weapons for?" Bast ventures.
"That would be very bad. There's never been war between the Houses," Isa says. A student of Cardian history might wonder what exactly she defines as "war" because they have definitely shot at each other from time to time in the past. Yves, who actually paid attention in one history class, though probably not more than one, blinks a few times. "...but do you think /your/ House would do that? Or... would your mother?"
"I don't think she would let someone else take what is ours," Isa answers.
"But then there's Highwind." Bast drains the rest of his drink.
"It's a provocation, certainly. But Nils is still there, plausibly still in control. If we sent forces in, we would be seen as the aggressive party." Isa thinks around a swallow of liquor. "I wonder if she'd be interested in baiting them into doing something overt."
(Linnet has rolled over to peek over Orrey's shoulder at his drawing of Owen and offer compliments.)
But this gets her attention. "...overt, as in shooting, or overt, as in politics?"
"Something we could justifiably respond to," Isa says, leaving all options open.
"Mm. And Kjier is officially - visiting, and does not warrant a rescue?" Bast says.
"Exactly. But if, say, a troupe of traveling actors passed by, and he was on their ship when they left?"
"Might be a minor scandal." Bast cracks a smile. "But probably worth it, I'd guess."
"Who /hasn't/ dreamed of running away to join a troupe of traveling actors?" asks Yves, sounding like someone who has, in fact, never dreamed of such, but heard others like that sort of thing.
"Ah, but if they decided to pursue that ship, perhaps into Osler lands, why that would be a deliberate provocation," Isa says.
"And that's..." Yves has a gulp of his drink. "......gooood?"
"It's useful," Isa corrects.
"Okay, but is it... uh... what's the word..." Yves thinks. "....morally suspect?"
Isa gives this thought. "In this milieu...no."
"Oh, well, then," Yves says, relieved, "I'm all for it."
"Excellent choice of word that none of us know what it means." Linnet raises a hand. "Don't tell me. I think we're better off not knowing."
"Useful enough to shift the King out of this royal neutrality Albarea's enjoying right now?" Bast asks. "Because if not, this seems like it could roll downhill fast."
"That'd be the goal. Or sway enough of the other houses over to our side that she can see the wind blowing." Isa polishes off her second glass, looks at it. "Well. What do you all say we get some lunch and then I'll show you the grounds until tonight's meeting."
"Are all of the rest of your family as...statuesque as your mother?" Linnet pauses, reevaluates her word choice, then shakes her head. "Not what I meant. Do the rest of your family make everyone feel like they need to be still as statues and just as expressionless? I'm sorry, Isa, I didn't mean to be rude. That was a hell of an introduction, though, so if all of your people are like your mom, I need to warm up my statue face."
"Does lunch come on a tray for guests the way it does for the birds?" Yves asks.
"My sister is in the city, so that's lucky for us. If my father's around, he's more personable. Apart from the four of us, you're not likely to find anyone else. Nils and Kjier live at Highwind, and my other uncle is an officer who doesn't come home much. The other branches all have their own homes."
"Is it, um, acceptable to engage anyone else in conversation?" Linnet asks.
"Most of the household staff is working, so it's best not to interrupt. The senior staff is usually fine with a word or two; they won't hesitate to let you know if they have duties more pressing than conversation."
Bast takes another look at the decanters, plainly interested in a closer acquaintance, then sets his glass down. "It's your house, we'll follow your lead." He nods to Isa, more relaxed than he's been at any point since the party got off the ship. "Lead on."
"Just not on the chocobos, please. I don't think any of us are sober enough for that right now." (Including Linnet, who is still completely sober, just Count-Osler-blitzed.)
End session.