BrieanneWilliamANightOnTheTownIIBrieanne William a Night on the Town IIThe carriage lurches and changes direction, but it does in remarkably short order come to an alley with a low grey stone structure a few feet down, a public urinal. Neil flings open the door and points "Hurry, milord Prince." Right down there." "I will aid you, milord" Czeller says, jumping out and offering William a hand.William half falls out of the carriage, landing heavily on the lieutenant, already fumbling with his clothing. As Czeller half carries him towards the urinal William leans on him, his head resting on his shoulder. "Take care, Lieutenant," he whispers. "Kowal will kill you if he thinks you likely to interfere with his plans for me. You need to play this carefully." "Milord!" Czeller just manages to muffle his own cry of surprise. "You are...unaffected by the drugs and beer." he says, continuing the shuffle to the urinal. "You are, ah, playing possum with the two lords?" he says. He pauses a beat, letting them reach the urinal. "What is the plan, milord? Escape?" "After all the work I have gone to to get them to this point, Lieutenant? Hardly." William fakes stumbling and almost falling as they reach the urinal, then laughs loudly enough for them to hear him back at the carriage. "There is treachery here, against the Lord Mayor and against your realm. I intend to get to the bottom of it. I need you to act the part of a conflicted young officer, slowly being swayed by the nobles into joining them against me. That makes you an ace up my sleeve when things get tight. Can you do that, Horace? I ask much of you, I know." The use of his first name seems to sober him, for he sobers his expression fully at that point in William's answer. "That's why you left your friends there, to listen and keep abreast of what they are saying." the officer replies. "You have been trying to determine the full nature of their treason." His eyes widen slightly. "And you wish me to be falsely swayed by their actions." He takes a short, sharp breath. "Yes, milord." Lt. Czeller finally says. "Yes, I can feign being swayed by their honeyed poison. It is fortunate that you spoke to me, milord." he adds. "I had thought to confront them with more than words." "I know," William replies dryly. He attends to the business that brought them to the facility, continuing to speak. "And that is the reason for this little deviation from our course. I could tell that you were about to get yourself killed protecting me. Admirable, my friend, but not yet necessary. Now that we have saved your life for the moment, let us continue with our true business." "Ja" Czeller replies in agreement. He swings around wildly, almost falling, appearing to catch himself at the last minute. Leaning on Czeller, he starts making his way back to the carriage, trousers only half buttoned up, loudly singing an improbable song about the romantic rivalry between a cavalry officer and his steed over the love of a lusty centauress. The progress back to the carriage is stopped three quarters of the way there. Czeller feigns tripping, enough to stop the forward motion of William for the moment. He points at the pool of shadows at the far side of the carriage. A nearby gaslight shows the distinctly shape of the shadow of the carriage, and also that there is a distortion of that shadow, as if someone or something invisible was within it. There is a faint but detectable scent of recent magic with a distinct Pattern tang to it. A nearby gaslight shows the distinctly shape of the shadow of the carriage, and also that there is a distortion of that shadow, as if someone or something invisible was within it. There is a faint but detectable scent of recent magic with a distinct Pattern tang to it. William's eyes slide to that area, then a smile crosses his face. "Not to worry," he whispers to Czeller. "An ally." "The Princess?" Czeller whispers. He then shuts up, going down to one knee, studying the shadow. His whisper slips even lower then, too low for even the lieutenant to make out what he's saying. Unheard by Czeller, the conversation with Brieanne proceeds. Hmmmm..... Brieanne considered what she heard and turned to William across the way her voice the faintest whisper, as much thought as something truly heard with the ear. "The one breaks bad but reluctantly, the other is fully employed. Shall I grace their presence with my company?" \William's song ends as he continues to approach the carriage, leaning heavily on the young officer. In a whisper only a touch above a sub-vocalization he replies, "I shall leave the exact timing of your coming to you, huntress. I am hoping that we might be able to tease a little more information out of them through subterfuge, before resorting to harsher methods." "I can do both." There was no giggle, but her tone was bright and if they had been face to face he knew she would have. "I shall skulk along and pick my moment. Perhaps I shall cause a bit of a scene, or I shall storm this Red House of theirs with all the flamboyance our family is famous for." She seemed entertained by the entrance she imagined. "They have talismans allowing communication with their employer," Williams warns her quietly. "Those will have to be dealt with. And we have a probable current location for that employer; the mansion up the river that I mentioned to you previously." "I shall find a place between here and there to make my entrace, because I am not being introduced at a latrine...." she commented. "The talismans can be easily dealt with. The men too should you say the word." "Come on, Lieutenant," William says loudly and with a touch of annoyance in his voice. "You move too slow." He waltzes towards the carriage, spinning drunkenly as he sings, "Too slow, too slow, we've places to go, come on, come on, we're headed..." he hits the side of the carriage and bounces off it, almost falls, and continues in a slightly puzzled voice, "...not for home? That rhymes, don't it?" The carriage door, opposite Brieanne, swings open. "Come back in, Prince" comes the voice of Neil. "We've places yet to go tonight. I'm sure that you aren't quite ready to go back to the Castle. Think of your reputation!" William peers into the open carriage and holds out an arm, grabbing for and just missing the side of the open door. "Don' wanna go back to the Castle yet," he mutters stubbornly. "You said there were women." "We didn't think that you wanted to." Neil said. "We will bring you to the women, milord Prince." "And what of you?" Neil looks at the young officer. "I..." Czeller swallows. "I want to go as well. I have...my doubts about the Prince, now" He gives William a slightly forced and overacted look of disdain. "Good lad" Neil says. "Let's get his highness in and about the rest of the evening." "Hmm" Emmet says. "Well, let us be about our destination. The Red House, and women it is. The Prince has commanded it!" The enthusiasm in Emmet's voice is not completely there, either, to William's ears. The carriage soon starts rolling along. William's companions appear to be fast asleep, passed out drunk. The smell of too much strong drink is on their whiskers. Once he has been bundled into the carriage William collapses against a wall, occasionally muttering, grumbling, or chuckling. He never says anything comprehensible. Having his face pressed up against the window allows him to open one eye, away from everyone else in the carriage, and carefully memorize their route. The progress is a slow one, allowing Brieanne no difficulty in following and keeping track of the carriage as she will. Not quite into the tenderloin the carriage is headed, the street that the carriage turns onto is far too well kept for that. It's also clear that the street's business is in matters of the flesh, rather than a street of coopers, or weaponsmiths, or farriers. The Red House proves to be the largest of the buildings on the street, toward the head of the street. It is also on the up slope from the rest of the street's establishments, giving it the position to "overlook" the other establishments the carriage passes, such as The Lily, the Sign of the Three Hands, and the Roseblack. There are some who ply the trade on the street itself, but these are all toward the bottom of the street and Neil and Emmet pay them and their blandishments no mind. No, with a low wall, and a front yard, the Red House, whose color looks a little garish in the night's lanterns, is definitely an establishment of a different caliber. Brieanne slipped through the crowd with as much ease as an eel through reeds. The slightest space seemed to afford her passage and the people seemed to pay her no more attention than the breeze. She glanced at the carriage now and then, keeping to the shadows, but as the street turned seedier William caught the occasional distraction, the look on her face as she passed one remarkably endowed lady... as if the princess had not been away that woman came in such proportion. She cast a displeased look the carriages direction, made note of what the "Red House" most certainly was, and leaped ahead gracefully to beat the carriage there. Brieanne finds that the Red House, for a House of Ill Repute, is the best in breed, if Brieanne could imagine to call it such a thing. There are even a pair of guards at the gate in the wall that the carriage carrying her cousin, companions, and captors roll toward. Its a perfunctory picket, Brieanne could get past the guards with little effort when she so chooses. William's deception lets him see Neil lean out the door and dicker with the guards, and the carriage resumes its course, taking the road up to the building. A dark skinned chatelaine, comes out to greet the carriage. Neil exits the carriage to speak with her, leaving William inside. "I am sorry" Emmet says to William. "You probably are too far gone to hear this anyway, like your companions. But I am...sorry. My companion is far too closer bound to whom we serve." "Boy, still your tongue, and you will still live this night." he adds to the young officer. "Eh?" William stirs sluggishly, lifting his head and staring around blearily. "We've stopped.Where are?" "We are at the Red House, milord Prince." Emmet replies. "You asked for women, in addition to the wine and song, and now you shall have it." "women!" Valric starts up 'awake' suddenly. "Women!" William confirms in a delighted, if somewhat slurred, voice. Brieanne slipped past the guards with the carriage, almost skipping along with the horses. When it stopped again she moved back to the carriage, staying safely out of mortal sight. She paid careful attention to Neil, listening for any attempt he might make to contact his employers, and when he left the carriage she edged closer, listening. *We will be introducing me when they attempt to move you from the carriage I think, because there simply is no way I would otherwise have business here.* Brieanne sounded slightly miffed, but only very slightly. *Or we can wait until some moment when someone is in actual danger, but I think I might enjoy playing my horror at finding myself here.* "I'll leave it to you, dear huntress," William subvocalizes. "Self amusement is always a valid reason for an action." "I think your companions should remain here." Emmet says. "They might not be in a state to...enjoy matters. I am sure the young officer here is escort enough for you?" "Come!" Neil says, returning to the carriage, the chatelaine trailing a few steps behind. "Let us introduce the Prince!" "Eh?" William says. He pokes Valric. "Women!" he says in an insistent voice. *Wait for it....* Brieanne's soft whisper sounded at William's ear. She waited until they'd managed to get him to the door. *Trump call.... now!" He felt a buzzing, though it didn't match a Trump precisely, but it proved to be only a short warning before there was a delicate hand in his. She appeared in a burst of light that also didn't precisely match a Trump aura. In an apparently unfortunate miscalculation, she stepped out even with William, who was still a step off the ground as he left the carriage. She dropped, stumbling in surprise and pulling William the rest of the way back before both of them fell into Neil. The exchange punctuated a surprised, slightly distressed exclamation on Brieanne's part. The amount of cursing and surprise from Neil is enough to waken the dead, entangled as he is in William and Brieanne. The dark haired woman standing in front of this scene looks mildly distressed for a moment but then puts a mask on immediately. She dances back a pace and watches the scene carefully, saying nothing. "Milord Prince?" Emmet from the carriage inquires timidly. "Who, what is this?" "M' cousin," William slurs. "Princesh Brieanne. Needed quick eshcape from somewhere." He peers at her, letting Neil hold him up. "Why'd ya call, Bri?" he asks. "In trouble?" "William!" She managed to pronounce every letter in his name in the sort of spoiled whine one might expect from a princess as she straightened herself out. "Well clearly not all things go as planned, and you, sir, should mind your mouth." She turned to give Neil a sharp aristocratic stare of disapproval. Her gaze wavered as she surveyed the building, and the woman, behind him. "William...?" She turned back to her cousin, her irritation with her arrival apparently set aside for other concerns, but her attention wavered again as she regarded him, confusion giving way to mirth. "Oh dear. You're positively marinated." She giggled, one hand covering her mouth briefly before she stepped forward and somewhat pointlessly fixed his collar. Neil, disentangling himself, from matters, regards Brieanne. "Princess Brieanne, the daughter of the Lord of Arden?" he says, blinking his eyes. "I am." Brieanne agreed brightly. "This is...unexpected." Neil replies. "You know, that is the second time I've heard that today." Her smile didn't waver, being quite pleased with herself. "I do *not* need this trouble in my establishment." the dark haired woman says. "Take all of this and go, before my business is disrupted." she adds in a tone of dismissal. She turns on her heel and starts walking back toward the building. "Why does she think I'm trouble?" The slight hint of whine was back, accented by a faint pout. "And what business?" She looked around as if she couldn't possibly imagine where she was. "Women business," William answers. "*Friendly* women!" Brieanne took a moment to think about that and then blushed. "And you brought me here?" The question ended with an indignant whine as she looked around, clearly displeased. "Hey" comes a voice from within the carriage. Kiathas. "Is that Princess Shannon?" "No, wrong hair color I think." comes another voice. Valric. "Neil, might it not be better to return to the Castle?" Emmet says. "We might even leave the Prince and his companions to the care of the Princess." "Hey!" William exclaims. "Ish early yet! We're shtill partying!" "Oh... I wouldn't want to interupt." Brieanne assured them, though she cast a doubtful look back at the red building. "Though I don't think I'm going to allow you to simply leave them with me." She told Neil, glancing up at Emmet. "You got him this way, You tend to him." But she reached out and affectionately ruffled William's hair. "Continuing matters would be...inappropriate, milord Neil." Emmet says. "This establishment would not suit the Princess." The head and shoulders of a young man dressed in the uniform of a Begman officer pokes his head out of the carriage and looks at Brieanne, surprised. "Oh! I thought you were Princess Shannon." He lowers his gaze. "I am Lieutenant Czeller. The Prince asked me along." He pauses a beat. "I'm...I'm sorry I allowed William to become so intoxicated." he says to her. Neil, in the meantime, briefly looks disgusted. "Well, really darling, what could you have done?" She waved a dismissive hand. "And I shall forgive you for thinking me Shannon if you can find a way to salvage the night. Because that really would be best, don't you think?" The gaze was merry when she turned from the young officer to Neil. "I mean, of all the possible unexpected twists, am I really so bad?" If she'd been a cartoon character her eyelashes would have fluttered dramatically, but instead she simply gazed up at Neil with wide blue eyes. "Huh?" William looks confused, as if all the rapid conversation around him has left him somewhat dizzy. "Certainly, our plans to come here have come to naught." Emmet says. "This is not a place suitable for a Princess." "That we can agree on." Neil brushes his shoulders and looking at the Princess. "So what do we do?" "Perhaps a place more suited to our unexpected company?" Lt. Czeller suggests. "Well said! More wine!" drunkenly comes a voice from inside the carriage. Valric. "Perhaps a place where the Prince might...might become more sobered, first?" Czeller carefully picks his word as if stepping along a field full of patches of mud. "A coffeehouse?" Emmet looks at the Princess. "If you are intent on joining us, Lady Princess, would that suit?" "Coffehouse?" William says in a questioning tone, swaying slightly. "Bohemians poets? Artists and their models? Rebellioush daughters of the gentry looking for dangerous romance?" He nods vigorously. "Well, I think that decides it." Brieanne almost giggled. "A coffeehouse would be lovely." She waited for Neil and Emmet to assist William back into the carriage, and then waited for their hand to help her, as well. "I suppose..." Neil says doubtfully. But within a couple of minutes, William has been returned to the carriage, and Neil adds Brieanne in boarding the carriage as well. Now, with the addition of Brieanne, the interior of the carriage is a little more snug but not quite overcrowded. Valric nudges Kiathas, both of them looking alert, as Brieanne enters. Neil lingers out of the carriage for a few moments more, speaking with the driver before boarding the carriage. A tap on the roof and the carriage soon is turning away from the house of ill repute and back onto the streets of the port city. Neil and Emmet exchange the occasional glance but neither say a word. The former looks like he is bottling fury, the latter seems to be pensive and morose. Brieanne wiggled her hips into place, settling herself between the men, occasionally leaning across to look out the window. She chattered about inconsequential things with the young officer, often including Emmet and sometimes Neil as well, as if she were unaware or unconcerned by the color of his mood. A few turns of phrase were mild pokes in Williams direction, as if she were trusting his state of mind to spare her repercussions, but she spoke in soft polite tones, so perhaps he didn't fully hear her. William hums quietly to himself, occasionally giggling. as they drive. William's two companions lapse back into a stupor that is clear, to Brieanne, an act. The Sign of the Five Cups turns out to be a large, brash coffeehouse as colorful as any rathskeller or bar in the city, with bright mage lights casting light out of the frosted panes of the building out onto the street in a yellow aura. The sounds of laughter and conversation also are pouring out onto the street like spilled ink. Carriages are taking turns dropping off or picking up passengers in a line ahead of the carriage William and Brieanne are in. "We're here" Emmet says. "Where?" William asks. He peers out a window in the opposite direction. "The Coffeehouse promised to the Princess." Neil says, with barely disguised patience. "How splendid. It looks like quite a dashing place William, you should be quite at home." [Brieanne] leaned forward across Emmet again to get a better look out the window. By the standards of other watering holes, both of the alcoholic and non-alcoholic variety, the Sign of the Five Cups does appear to be relatively high class. At least, from Brieanne's view, it certainly is. And with quick efficiency, the carriage comes to the front of the line. Emmet opens the door and heads out, perhaps a bit in unseeming haste. A line of carriages now stretches behind the carriage containing William, Brieanne and company. "We'll...we'lll stay here." Valric says. "Want to sleep." "Per choice to Dream." Kiathas says. He points a finger and stabs at Lt. Czeller. "You take care of the Prince and the Princess." Emmet gulps. "Come out, now." Emmet calls from the street. "The coffee is hot, the conversation is grand, and perhaps some coffee will do all five of us good." "Perhaps" Neil allows. "Royalty first, of course." "Thank you." Brieanne replied brightly and bounced from the carriage with easy grace, though perhaps not in the most lady-like fashion. "William, darling," she called back. "Do exit with a bit more grace this time." She laughed, playfully nudging Emmet toward the coach to help him. William slips on the steps of the carriage as he leaves it, and manages to somehow twist in such a way that Emmet in unable to catch him. He lands heavily on his hands. "Oof!" he exclaims, shaking his head. He staggers back to his feet, palming the four decorative pins he picked up when he was on the ground, pins that look rather like doorways if they aren't examined too closely. "Buffo..." Neil catches the word in mid stride. "Bother, I am sorry milord Prince." "Sorry, milord." Emmet says, aiding William in getting up. It appears that he is not immediately aware of the theft. "William, really." Brieanne tsked, teasing him. Inside, the coffeehouse is dominated by a variety of tables, ranging from circular ones with three or four chairs, to a pair of large u-shaped tables that that could hold a score of patrons, each. "There" Neil points to one of the tables. He looks at the Lieutenant. "Evict the inhabitants and set us up there." He pauses. "I'll make sure we get the very best of service from the place for our custom." "This way?" Czeller suggests to William, Brieanne and Emmet. "Oh!" William says, his expression brightening. "Do you want me to walk that way? Do you? Please ask me to walk that way!" He bounces slightly on his feet, swaying as he does so. "They do darling. Walk that way." But she waited, as if to watch, giving Emmet a little nudge as if to suggest that he help. Emmet gets the hint from Brieanne's elbow. "If I could walk that way," William says triumphantly, pointing at Neil, "I'd have to have a stick up my butt!" He nearly collapses in laughter. "Come, Prince." he suggests." Czeller moves head of William, Brieanne, and the Begman noble. He speaks with sharp gesticulations of his arms to the people at the time, pointing at William and Brieanne. Both Amberites get skeptical looks. Emmet, however, is recognized by one of the young women, who curtsies obsequiously to William and Emmet The rest of the party at the time give at least sketchy bows before they move out as a pack, although one of the more roguish looking young men lingers long enough to give Brieanne a long, lingering look. Brieanne returned the long gaze, amused and perhaps a bit predatory. "Now, we'll sit down and get some coffee into you, milord Prince." Emmet says, not quite manhandling in his efforts to get William into a chair. For his part, Czeller regards Brieanne, and pulls out a chair for her. In the background, Neil is talking with the proprietor, and a buzz of activity from behind the coffee bar has been set in motion. "Coffee with brandy?" William asks hopefully as he sprawls in his chair. His hands brush lightly over Emmet's clothing as the nobleman helps him sit, and the change of the false insignia for the real ones is made. Brieanne drifted along in the wake of the group, watching after Neil and paying sideways attention to his conversation. She perched at the edge of a chair, still looking amused. Neil occasionally makes indications in the direction of William and his group but mainly, in a gesticulating manner, continues to speak to the proprietors of the coffeehouse. "I think, cousin dear, that you might just forego the brandy..." She made a show of fixing her hair, and then looked around waiting for service. "No brandy then," William says sadly. He leans forward and pats Brieanne on the arm. "You always take sush good care of me, coz," he says in a maudlin voice. He grips her hand in a gesture of emotion, coincidentally passing her two false insignia and darting a quick flick of his eyes towards Neil, before settling back in his chair. "I do try." Brieanne assured him, brushing his hair back with one hand, leaning in a bit and smiling. "He's one of my favorites." She remarked to Emmet, making eye contact and distracting the man while the insignia disappeared. "Poor Neil, however, does seem a bit put out by my arrival..." She pouted slightly, gaze turning to the man in question. Emmet shows little sign of the twin deceptions, or he seems unperturbed by them if he did, and is a good actor to boot. The Begman officer, however is a different matter. He takes note of the interactions Brieanne makes, especially with William. His notes turn into a stare, a long enough one that he looks away, red-faced and apologetic. "My apologies. I did not wish to stare. It is rude." he says to Brieanne. "The beauty of the Princesses of Amber is something that has inspired poets in Begma and beyond." "But doubtless you have heard enough of that for a mortal lifetime." Lt. Czeller adds, "If I were to attempt it, you might consider me as drunkenly addled as the Prince, or his companions, sleeping in the carriage outside." He shoots a sympathetic look at William. "No doubt." Emmet murmurs. Brieanne listened, smiling softly, looking vaguely satisfied. "Oh.. I've heard it before," she purred, "but it never hurts to hear it again. However..." she held up a cautionary finger, "if you try poetry now, he'll insist on joining." She dropped her voice down, as if William wasn't supposed to hear, and winced slightly at how she imagined that might go. One of the staff, a young woman in white and black, swings over. "His Highness is preparing an order for all." the dark haired woman in ringed curls says. "But perhaps something individual and specific in he meantime might be to your fancy?" she asks. "Tea, please. Lots of lemon." Brieanne answered promptly. "Certainly" she says with a smile. "Mit oodles of schlag, beautiful," William says with a smile. "Err...?" she looks helplessly at Brieanne, Emmet and Czeller. "I am afraid I don't understand." "The Prince appreciates your attention for our custom." Lt. Czeller says. "That is all. I want for nothing until the coffee comes." "I see..." she says. Emmet shakes his head and waves her off. She does come back a couple of minutes later, accompanied by Neil at last, and a small train of carafes of coffee, and what appear to be some sort of pastries, powdered sugar dough of some kind. The carafes and cups are set down on the big table, and Brieanne has her tea brought to her as well. "Good imported coffee from wherever the King of Kashfa gets it to sell to us." Neil says. "The coffeehouse says its the best quality. Something called Hualalai Premium." He pauses a beat and starts pouring a cup. "Its a pity it can't grow anywhere near here in the Golden Circle and we have no clue where Kashfa imports it from." "Hualalalalailai," William says. "Hualalalalailailalalailai." He snorts and grabs a couple of pastries, which he begins to juggle, badly. "Can you do nothing to help him?" Neil says, mostly to Brieanne, but the exasperated sigh in his voice is unmistakable and universal. William's bad juggling is bad enough that Emmet is able to intercept one of the pastries, and place it on the table. He pours a cup of the coffee. "Milord Prince, if I might suggest. Drink at least a couple of cups. I think your royal cousin might approve." he gives a glance at Brieanne. "Oh, I do approve." Brieanne nodded, smiling sweetly while she tended to her tea. The young officer for his part has poured a cup for himself, and is watching Neil and Emmet keenly, giving only lip service attention to William's antics. William sighs, then grins and nods. "Yes, mama," he says to Emmet. He lifts his cup, spilling only a little bit, and sips at it. "Is good!" he says in a slightly surprised tone. "No doubt you could find better in shadow." Emmet says. "You probably can find places in the universe where coffee just grows on bushes, ready for the harvesting and brewing." William grins at him. "People are always saying things like that," he says. He finishes off his coffee and waves the cup at the serving girl. "Don't worry darling," she set aside her tea cup to have a quiet word with Neil, fussing over him as William's show continued. "Whatever he's had, it will wear off soon enough and then he shall have to live with my knowledge. She giggled, soothing Neil with a hand on his arm and needlessly fixing his lapel in much the same fashion she had tended to William.. with the side affect of swapping the insignia for the one William had given her. The switcheroo seems to go off without a hitch. Neil seems more entranced by Brieanne's fussing to actually notice the change over. "In the meantime, I'm quite entertained." She set herself more correctly in her chair, took a sip of tea and looked to William. "Not at all the evening anticipated, but I've few regrets." "No, this was not the way I envisioned the evening." Neil says, keeping his gaze on Brieanne. "The Unexpected Princess and the Inebriated Prince" sounds like something for the theatre." "Quite" Emmet agrees. He gives William a speculative look. "It does," Brieanne agreed, "and if you repeat the idea, he may try to oblige us at some point." William desn't seem to notice, waiting for a refill of his coffee. "Allow me" Lt. Czeller picks up on it immediately. He gives a private smile for William and Brieanne as he does so. "Perhaps" Neil says, keeping the gaze on Brieanne. "As his highness the Prince recovers with the aid of this excellent coffee, you might tell us how you came to call upon him and join our evening endeavors." "Well, it's not nearly so dramatic as you might think, and had I known just how it would go, I might have made a different choice." Brieanne laughed. "Would it surprise you terribly to hear that I was following the trail of a rather dastardly man? Unfortunately, that didn't go as planned, which is probably less surprising." She laughed again, shaking her head and retrieving her tea. "Not dramatic?" Neil says. "A Prim and proper Princess of Amber chasing after a dastardly man?" He clucks his tongue. "I would say that none save the late Princess Deirdre would be so inclined and capable as to go chasing after a miscreant, weapon in hand." "Surely" Neil says. "You might tell us who would rise the ire of a beautiful and capable Princess that he would pursue him for misdeed? If for no other reason than to shun him from polite society, or to learn from his example not to raise your hackles?" William busies himself adding lots of sugar and a little bit of cream to his coffee, then stirring vigorously. A not insignificant fraction ends up on the table. Brieanne waved his care away with a careless gesture, her hand briefly resting on his arm. "I'm really a very simple girl... Never hurt the men I love, and I shall have no reason to be vexed." She propped elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand. "See, I'm sure you're perfectly safe." "Perhaps, milady Princess." Neil says. He pauses a beat "That depends on whether you, ah, have strong filial affection for Prince William, and whether you consider his state of inebriation injury that requires response." Emmet laughs, a little high pitched and a little nervously and stares at William with concern spreading across his face like the sun's light spreading across the sea at dawn. "My brother in the nobility is joking of course." Emmet says to Brieanne. "Injury to Prince William requiring the Vengeance of the Princess of Arden upon my brother noble and I is not necessary." "Right?" He asks, looking between William and Brieanne. Neil for his part seems to be holding back a grimace of disgust and not entirely succeeding. "Oh... I'm sure you've done no lasting harm." Brieanne purred, gazing at William indulgently. "Though if you had, that would be problematic." She admitted. "He is one of my favorites." William stares into his coffee cup and swirls it around. "Beginning to be bored," he says gloomily. "Sobering up can be boring, milord Prince." Emmet says. "Aw.. we don't want that.' Brieanne frowned in concern. "Where were you before the house of ill repute where I found you? Surely you had some manner of entertaining him? Music? Conversation? It really is too early in the night to be going home, even if he does need a little propping to walk straight." She gazed earnestly at Neil, waiting for him to supply a solution. "The good Prince and the rest of us, including his inebriated companions." Neil makes a head motion in the direction of the door. "had previously visited a Rathskellar. That seemed to suit the Prince's tastes and interest, perhaps *too* well. We had thought that pleasures of the flesh might suit after drinking, games, and music." "It would be gauche to repeat such things again." Neil adds. "Would it not?" He continues to look at Brieanne. "A little more coffee, however, and perhaps something might be done. I am sure we can find a venue with...music?" he looks at William hopefully. William looks around. "Did anyone bring my lute?" he asks. "I ca' play you somethin'." "When you're more your old self I am certain we can get you one." Brieanne reached over and patted William's arm, but she promptly turned back to Neil. "So, I had my little moment, what about you? How do you keep yourself busy and entertained?" "I am a noble of the Begman city of Erkus." Neil says. "I keep myself busy by seeing to it that the Lord Mayor has my support, as well as the Prime Minister of course." he says, with more than a touch of defensiveness in his voice. "Such matters are a large part of my time, and so I value what free time I possess." "The Prince" he doesn't look at William "has the taste of a common man, but to be truthful, I often have somewhat more refined tastes in entertainment that would bore a man of such vigor as Prince William." "I should think that the Opera would not be a suitable place to decamp to." Neil says. "What my brother noble means." Emmet adds hastily . "We wouldn't want to *bore* the Prince. Or you, for that matter, milady Princess. The Princess of Arden is not known for gentle pursuits." "Perhaps retiring back to the Mayor's Alcazar for an early night might in fact be the best option after all." Neil says. "I am sure in the morning his lordship would be delighted to have you presented to him, Princess Brieanne." he says. "It is more than passing rare to have *three* royals of Amber here." "Gotta get rest," William agrees with a nod. "Omphalasoseses to fight." He waves one arm around in a vaguely martial fashion. "Hmm.. yes... the Omphalos..." Brieanne sounded almost put out, as if she were tired of hearing about them. Neil noticeably stiffens briefly at the second mention of the Omphalos. "I will most certainly join you in the morning... but I've never been to an opera. In lieu of retiring early, that sounds interesting. Perhaps after we see William safely back to where he belongs?" "Yes, let us bring the Prince back where he belongs." Neil says rapidly, the words tumbling over each other like dominoes. The Prince's companions are already sleeping in the carriage and will need to rest in real beds as well. Then, perhaps, if the Princess is willing, the night will still be young." "Perhaps" Emmet says, doubtfully. Neil gets up. "I will settle the bill, and we shall go." "Opera," William says is a disdainful voice. "Lots of people shouting." He seems to be winding down, and his eyes keep slipping closed. "Shouldn't let th' Princess run off wi'out me," he mumbles. His eyes open again. "Emmet, you'll take care o' her, right?" "I'm sure he'll do just fine. And if he doesn't, I'm a big girl who knows how to turn men into rabbits." She winked at Emmet, smiling sweetly as she soothed William. Neil takes his time paying the bill, seemingly relieved to have a moment's peace away from William and Brieanne. Emmet, for his part, speaks a little loudly in response. "Rabbits? The story I heard, milady princess was not of a man turned into a rabbit, but rather into a stag. Hunted with hounds. Hungry hounds." "True..." Brieanne leaned her elbow on the table again, propping her chin in her hand and smiling, "but it could be said that I gave them opportunity to run." "A sporting chance." Emmet says. He gives off another shudder, but then steels himself as he turns from her to William. He looks at William. "I promise I will give the Princess no cause to turn me into a stag, rabbit or anyone else. As far as my brother noble..." he casts an unhappy, thoughtful glance back in the direction of Neil and then a more appraising look in Brieanne's direction. Brieanne's smile grew slightly, the look in her eyes knowing and almost eager, as if agreeing to whatever it was Emmet was thinking. Neil finally returns. "To the Alcazar, and then the Opera." he says grandly. Without suggesting it, Emmet moves to William's side. "This way, milord Prince?" Brieanne stood up, hooked her arm through Neil's and gazed serenely at William and Emmet, waiting patiently. "Eh?" William looks up at Emmet and frowns. "What?" he asks. "We are taking you and your companions back to the Castle. The Princesse" the final e a Begman affectation that comes out in his speech. "agrees that you should return to the Castle and get some badly needed rest. Now, will you come along." "Agreed" Neil says. "I do thank you, milord Prince of Amber, for a most entertaining evening. But now it is coming to an end." He gives a glance at Brieanne and then at William. "We shall have to do this again some day." William sighs. "Oh, vewwy well," he says. "I' we must." He pushes himself off from the table, wobbles a little, and then starts to wobble off in the wrong direction. Brieanne hooked her arm through Neil's, watching as Emmet retrieves William and waits to be led out to the carriage. In short order, with Emmet doing his best to keep William pointed in the right direction, and with Neil firmly kept on course by Brieanne, the quintet, led by the Begman officer manage to get out of the coffeehouse and to the waiting carriage without much more difficulty. As if anticipating trouble, Emmet asks for the Lieutenant's help in bundling William back into the carriage. The snores from Valric and Kiathas only sound *slightly* exaggerated and fake to William's and Brieanne's ears, and the pair make a show of waking up at the commotion of their entry, and the start of the trip back to the Alcazar. William settles into the carriage grudgingly, murmuring something incomprehensible about wanting to be out hunting. Brieanne lightly shushes William, promising to take him hunting later as opportunity provides. The trip back to the Alcazar is a quiet one, from the perspective of the two Begman nobles. They say little to each other, William or Brieanne. Neil in particular has taken to massaging his temples and adding a sour disposition. Emmet's gaze keeps flicking between Brieanne and William, and Neil, as if expecting trouble to break out at any moment. Valric and Kiathas continue to play possum in their sleepiness. Both Brieanne and William catch them cracking an eye open enough to keep watch on the two nobles, especially Neil. Lt. Czeller remains as watchful as an owl. When the carriage finally reaches the front of the Alcazar on top of the hill that contains the mayor's palace, Neil's eagerness to be out of the carriage is more than a little beyond the bounds of protocol, dropping to the flagstones even before a servant can get a staircase ready. "Come, now, milord Prince." Neil says, extending his hand out and rubbing his ankle with his other hand "We are here." "Eh?" William appears to rouse from a doze, and peers out of the carriage. "Doesna look like a brothel," he says doubtfully. "William, darling, you already went there. We're back now." Brieanne replied .. honestly, patting his arm and then stepping down from the carriage. "The evening's festivities." Neil says, sharpness coming back into his voice. "are over, milord." "For just the Prince and his companions alone, of course." Emmet says, poking his head past William to look outside at Brieanne and Neil. The withering look Neil gives his fellow noble in return might melt lead. Emmet gently urges Kiathas and Valric awake, the former waking up in a startled shout, and the other a more subdued rousing. "Lieutenant." Neil says. "Do your duty and aid the Prince disembark." "Did you wish me to accompany the Princess?" he says in a low voice to William's ear even as he moves to help urge out of the carriage and onto the steps. William throws an arm around the lieutenant. "You're comin' with me," he says loudly. "I'm still plannin' ways to get tha' horse away from you. No gettin' outa my sight till then, boyo!" "Do take care of him for me." Brieanne addressed the Lieutenant, tousling William's hair affectionately and slipping the pilfered Door pin into William's pocket before returning to stand by Neil with a slight smile. "Um, yes." The Lieutenant says, allowing himself to be horse-collared without difficulty by William. In short order, he, William, Kiathas and Valric are all in front of the carriage at the Alcazar. "Thank you for your service, Lt. Czeller." Neil says. "Do see him to bed now, and give him my regards when he recovers." William begins staggering away from the carriage, half dragging Czeller with him. Kiathas and Valric follow,more or less, their weaving steps mostly in the same direction. Lt. Czeller continues to play at being dragooned into this drunken display, giving a few waves of reassurance to the guards on duty as William, his two male companions and the Begman officer get some room and distance away from the carriage. "How much longer must we continue this fantasia of being drunken buffoons?" Valric says. "Who says I was pretending?" Kiathas laughs in an outsized manner. "We keep wandering away like this until the carriage leaves," William says quietly, still weaving. "Then you two are going to find Devaine and Princess Shannon and tell them everything that happened. Czeller, you are gong with them. Once Shannon decides to inform the Lord Mayor of what is going on you can confirm what you have seen and heard. I will be following Brieanne and our two bad boys." "Are you going to take direct action against them, sir?" the Lieutenant asks, grabbing William in a show of keeping him somewhat on course. "I suspect" Valric says. "The question is if the Princess is going to wait for William before she dispenses her own brand of justice on the two nobles." Kiathas "Oh, I think the Princess, with her sense of exquisite timing, will wait for William to return before doing so. But only" he 'drunkenly' belches, loudly. "Only just" Behind them, the carriage horses are being tended to, in preparation of a quick departure. William chuckles. "I wouldn't dream of interfering with the Princess' fun," he says. "But I want to be there when she finishes playing with them. Or, rather, when she decides she's ready to change the game." The humor falls away from his voice is he continues, "I still think we might be able to salvage the one," he says. "He is not happy with the path he has gone down, but does not know how to leave it. We might be able to give him a chance." "Lord Walton" the Begman officer says, soberly. "He does seem far less enthusiastic about the matter than Lord Kowal does." "You should note" Valric matches the former belch of Kiathas with one of his own. "How it seemed that Neil seems to have an inkling he has stepped into a trap like in the forest Arden. Maybe a deadfall." (As per her thread) Brieanne, with a mental contact spell, reaches out to William. "Only a moment before we're off. Poor Neil is breaking a sweat but Emmet seems happier feeling for me. I do believe that if I had a ball, he'd fetch." She giggled. "Also, the pin he wears will activate the one you hold. You may listen or disconnect as it pleases you." "How very droll." Kiathas says, clearly unaware of the conversation with Brieanne. "Good luck, Guillaume." Valric adds. "Or it happy hunting?" William clips the pin onto his collar, near his ear, and smiles. "Both, I think," he says. He claps all three men on the shoulders, then takes off at a run, leaping to the walls of the palace and from there to a nearby roof, and he is off on his chase. "I hope this goes better than the time you and William wound up dangling..." the voice of Valric fades into the distance before William hears the rest of the story. The roofs of Begma are not completely dissimilar to his old haunts, and it is fortunate that unlike the mountain of Kolvir, there are plenty of houses and roofs to make his way down the hill in pursuit of the carriage. Given the relative stately passage of the carriage, the challenge is relatively minimal for William. Across a red tiled roof here, clamber down the next roof and make the jump there. William can and does exceed the speed and in face, will get to a key intersection a minute and a half before the carriage will, or can continue to dog the carriage, for as long as he desires. Williams listens to the conversation in the carriage, coming to him through the medium of the pin, as he leaps from building to building. For now he chooses not to accept the invitation the intersection offers, and merely continues to follow the carriage, instead of intercepting it. He makes certain he stays out of sight of the driver, and never presents a silhouette to anyone who might look out of a carriage window. The conversation between Brieanne, Neil and Emmet continues to be the soundtrack, as it where, to William's traversing of the coastal city and its roofs. Continuing to shadow the carriage takes only a bit of adjustment, and some maneuvering. It's relatively quiet and peaceful as William continues his journey across Tywin. The roofs are close together in this part of the city, giving him ample opportunity to make his way and keep pace. Further ahead, William can see in the distance the dome of the opera house. He can also see, perhaps to his surprise, he is not alone on his rooftop excursion. From a roof on a building on a street parallel to this one, a human shaped figure blots out the stars briefly as he (she?) leaps onto the roof that is next on William's high-sky crossing. William slows his pace, moving silently to the edge of the roof he is now on and flattening himself behind a chimney. He peers around it, tracking the person on the next roof. The person on the other roof, probably male judging from his build, is dressed in dark colors. He looks about, and gives a glance down at the street. He does, as it so happens, look in the direction of the roof William is on, and then starts up again, leaping to the next roof with speed and grace. The figure may not be explicitly following the carriage, but he is certainly taking the obvious set of roofs one might use to travel above and along the street that the carriage is traveling down. "Interesting," William thinks to himself. "Could just be a clever cat burglar, in which case good luck to him." But William is supicious of coincidences, and for the moment he's considering the man to be a probable hostile. He'll adjust his course to follow the man, watching closely and making sure to remain quiet and unseen, for as long as his course continues to follow the carriage. And indeed, it does. The burglar continues to maneuver down roofs, following the street with a dogged determination. the burglar continues pacing along, showing that they are certainly high fit for a mortal at least in managing to go up and down the roofs without a misstep or without seeming to tire. The clue for William comes as the carriage slows down, caught in a small knot of traffic as a bunch of carriages from streets feed into this one for the final stretch to the Opera House. The figure slows down as well, for the burglar would certainly have overshot and surpassed the carriage had his pace not changed. With this speed change in his fellow rooftop rider, William, can of course, as he will, close the distance on the other figure, if he so chooses. The figure's attentions are on nearly everything except what is behind him--the roofs ahead, the street, and the carriage appear to be the burglar's only interests. "The horses need to be watered, and then we will be off." he says. "By your leave, of course, Princess." Stable hands quickly see to the task, rubbing down the horses in the bargain. Neil seems uneasy by Brieanne's presence, his body language strongly and undeniably saying 'flight'. T The subconscious body language of Emmet, however, might better reflect the axiom. "Better to be at the right hand of the devil than in her path. Brieanne stepped to the side, leaving extra room for the stable hands and watching everyone. Finally she reached out to William. "Only a moment before we're off. Poor Neil is breaking a sweat but Emmet seems happier heeling nicely for me. I do believe that if I had a ball, he'd fetch." She giggled, winked at Emmet a feet away. Emmet returns the wink with a gamely nod of the head. "Also, the pin he wears will activate the one you hold. You may listen or disconnect as it pleases you." The horses soon taken care of, Neil nods. "To the opera, then." he says, with a sigh of resignation. He walks over to the door and offers Brieanne entry into it. He chooses a seat opposite her, leaving Emmet to sit next to her as the carriage turns and heads down the hill toward the city. "Now, we are shorn of your inebriated cousin and his men, this carriage almost feels too empty." Neil says in jest. "Nay" Emmet replies. "Perhaps the carriage is slightly large for our party, 'tis true, but are not nobles and those of royal families larger than life? And I would not speak too many disparaging words about Prince William, even if he drank to excess. While such men do not remember such words in the morning, their cousins often do. There is the matter of the other visiting Princess as well." "Yes" Neil says thoughtfully. He looks at Brieanne. "Unless of course, the Princess Brieanne has pointed opinions of her that will never leave this carriage." "Oh... I don't think we want those just yet, and I have so many. One does not live life in this family without gaining soap boxes to speak from at an early age and I took to my lessons well. But we're supposed to be having fun, and when it's a cousin I like, I indulge them terribly, so I have no ill to speak of William." "Oh, we were hoping you were going to speak ill of Princess Shannon." Neil says with just the slightest trace of malice. Brieanne glanced at Neil, her expression mirroring his as she smiled. "Your opinions on the Prince William appear to be crystal clear, given the nature and choice of your arrival." "Indubitably." Emmet replies. "The alliance between your wings of the Amber Royal Family is unexpected to find, Princess Brieanne. But it appears to be very real. Are you well inclined toward Prince William's sister as well?" "It would hardly do to favor the one while speaking ill of the other." Brieanne explained. "It would put William in such an uncomfortable place. As for surprises... I rather enjoy them. Shannon, for instance, always thinks she knows everything, and it's terrible fun to show her now and then, that she really doesn't." "See?!" Neil says triumphantly to Emmet, his tone positively crowing. He has relaxed somewhat from his previous fear. "This is precisely the sort of thing I hoped to hear. Not in the specific that the Princess Shannon can be shown up by her, mind, but the fact that such a relationship exists." His tone, though, suggests otherwise. "Such conflicts are at the heart of any and every family of noble or royal blood, I am convinced. it is refreshing to underscore that." "Your presence here, certainly, has been a surprise." Emmet allows. "And I wager that the Princess Shannon will be surprised when Prince William drunkenly and slovenly tells her that you *are* here. Is this not true, Princess?" The carriage makes a wide turn, heading down a boulevard. The dome of the opera house is visible even through the tall and leaning buildings that line the promenade. The buildings are close enough together that someone could navigate easily if they would, for example, decide to traverse the city of Tywin by rooftop, much easier than the City of Amber itself, in fact. "If she believes him, of course." Neil says. "Or if he manages to even remember in the morning." "What else might you tell us of your view of the Royal Family of Amber, lady Princess." Neil says, trying boldness to cover up his disquiet further. "Since we have at least a few minutes before we arrive at our destination. On time, too, looks like." he looks out the window and down the street. Brieanne can sense William's progress, still unmarked by the inhabitants.
"Oh, I'm not concerned with what William may, or may not tell Shannon.." Brieanne drawled, gazing at Neil with bright eyes and a cold, cunning smile. "But really, this sort of thing is hardly limited to noble families. All that changes is the value and scope of what is at stake. In lower families, they squabble over livestock, or who gets Grandma's heirloom tea set. The merchant families squabble of business rights or ships or trade routes. Nobles, over titles or land. Or it's women or bragging rights. Pride against pride no matter how poor because it's really all about power. Triumph over your chosen rival. The one you've stared at all your life. Or maybe it's a neighbor, instead of a cousin. An old schoolmate? Tell me, who has your rivalry? You being of noble birth, you cannot tell me that you have escaped your own hypothesis." Her gaze was unblinking, pinning Neil to his chosen topic of conversation. "I shouldn't think that the answer is going to be of much interest to a high Princess of Amber such as yourself. What is that expression?" Neil's voice cracks slightly under the gaze. "The doings of the greatest noble in shadow often is a pile of beans on the plate of the lowest Prince of Amber's plate." Emmet chuckles. "Maybe. But the question is fair, my fellow lord. I would answer it, if the Princess so asked. But she has asked you. You first, anyway." Unable to shake Brieanne's attention, Neil lets a few more moments of the carriage rolling along before he answers. Brieanne waited patiently, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "There are those who do not wield the power they have well, and those whose fiefdoms and inheritances are unworthy of them. My own inheritance is smaller than theirs, and yet my talent and ambition are far greater. I ask you, is this a state of affairs I should not change? The current Mayor, for instance. He has no heir. He is old and nearly infirm. I have watched him piss away this city since the War. And he laughs at his betters." "Even the Prime Minister wastes what he has been given." Neil's eyes gleam. "But to dare to dream to usurp the likes of *him* would attract Amber's attention, would it not?" "Indeed...." Brieanne purred. "We are often left with matters not to our tastes or ambitions. Although, in striving to change them, we sometimes over reach... But, as they say, great gains from great risks." She stared out the window a moment, watching the street with a sharp, thoughtful expression. Brieanne does see, before the slowing of the carriage, that a line of carriages also headed to the Opera House have for the moment slowed their progress if not to a crawl, at least to something less than the brisk pace set earlier. "But do tell, where is dear uncle Corwin in the midst of all this?" "Prince Corwin?" Neil looks at Emmet with a puzzled and baffled expression on his face. Emmet doesn't quite return the look, instead, he gives a slight nod of the head. "I believe my counterpart knows more of the Prince than I do." Neil says. "Don't you, milord?" he says to Emmet. Emmet nods and clears his throat. "He's not been about Amber and its regions much since the War of course, milady Princess. Surely you know that. I admit that I do not understand the business of the succession. I would have thought he, or perhaps the Prince Benedict, should succeed your grandfather. Does Prince Corwin not now reside in a realm of his own making, in deepest shadow, rarely to ever come this way?" "There are rumors to the contrary." Neil puts in. "But being closer to Amber, you would of course have heard them more freshly than I." (William) The clue for William comes as the carriage slows down, caught in a small knot of traffic as a bunch of carriages from streets feed into this one for the final stretch to the Opera House. The figure slows down as well, for the burglar would certainly have overshot and surpassed the carriage had his pace not changed. With this speed change in his fellow rooftop rider, William, can of course, as he will, close the distance on the other figure, if he so chooses. The figure's attentions are on nearly everything except what is behind him--the roofs ahead, the street, and the carriage appear to be the burglar's only interests. That decides William. With a sudden burst of speed he closes the gap between them, leaping upon the figure as soon as he is close enough, with the intention of taking his prey down quickly and as quietly as possible, hopefully ending up with his target face down on the roof with both arms gripped tightly and William's knee in the small of the target's back. William's quarry is mostly taken in by William's gambit. As they descend to the roof, he...no, she, twists, trying to escape William's clutches. The cat-burglar is strong, surprisingly strong, stronger than the usual for humans in the Golden Circle, and it takes a surprisingly amount of effort from William in order to subdue her. In the struggle, he caught an elbow to the jaws that nearly was good enough to get her to break free and run. Dressed in a stocking-type mask, and a body stocking, her female nature is now obvious now that William has her in a double hammerlock and pressed against the roof of some Inn. She does not cry or call out. "You've the better of me." she says. The telling thing, before she has said another word to William, is that the fabric of her outfit is definitely not wool, cotton or any other natural fiber William is familiar with. "So I do," William says quietly into her ear. He doesn't relax his hold in the slightest, and he's wary for any sign that she's about to try to escape. "So why don't you tell me who you are, and what you're about, and we can determine whether we're working at cross purposes, or whether we can end this meeting on a pleasant note." While he talks he quickly looks over what he can see of her garb and any equipment she carries, looking for any clues as to who she is and where she's from. Her equipment, besides the unusual clothing is pretty spartan. She has two daggers, one on her left ankle and one on her right hip. William can see that she has a small pouch built into her belt in the back, a fanny pack. Its tucked underneath her, pinned between her and the roof. "My name is Electra." she says in an impatient tone. "What I am about is getting away the longer you keep me here Prince William. Our mutual adversaries." She relaxes her ready-to-move stance slightly, but only slightly. "You may have resources that I do not in monitoring the occupants of the carriage." she admits. "However, I do not think at this time you are going to share them with me without good reason. I would not, in your place." she says. "And you do not recognize me." Electra adds. "because I have never been presented to King Random or his predecessors, and thus am not known as yet by the Court of Amber. I will not be so foolish as to believe that one or two of your cousins, aunts or uncles in the Court knows otherwise." "Are you going to allow me to stand up, if I give my word I will not run? My hopes were for an eventual meeting with you, but had not anticipated you taking to rooftops in pursuit of the traitor barons." "I accept your word," Williams says formally, releasing her and stepping back. She stands up, slowly, carefully, stretching as she does so. She moves slightly, keeping her profile out of immediately recognizable sight to observers. He glances ahead of them at the carriage slowly approaching the opera house, and makes sure he has his back to a chimney, and isn't outlined against the sky in case anyone glances in their direction. He frowns. "How rude," he says. "Lord Kowal is insulting Coral." He looks back at her with an appreciative gaze. "So then, my Lady Electra," he says, "I know why I am following our two bad boys. Why are you?" Electra looks dumbstruck at William's comment about Kowal, but quickly schools her face and relaxes as William continues his words. "I have reason to believe that the two nobles in question, especially Lord Kowal, are not only traitors to the city's mayor, but to the Prime Minister of Begma himself, treating with avaricious allies that I have learned is not from Begma or even the Golden Circle." "Why do you follow the carriage, Prince William of Amber, after you so recently exited it?" She relaxes her ready-to-move stance slightly, but only slightly. "You may have resources that I do not in monitoring the occupants of the carriage." she admits. "However, I do not think at this time you are going to share them with me without good reason. I would not, in your place." she says. "And you do not recognize me." Electra adds. "because I have never been presented to King Random or his predecessors, and thus am not known as yet by the Court of Amber. I will not be so foolish as to believe that one or two of your cousins, aunts or uncles in the Court knows otherwise." "Are you going to allow me to stand up, if I give my word I will not run? My hopes were for an eventual meeting with you, but had not anticipated you taking to rooftops in pursuit of the traitor barons." (Brieanne) "I shouldn't think that the answer is going to be of much interest to a high Princess of Amber such as yourself. What is that expression?" Neil's voice cracks slightly under the gaze. "The doings of the greatest noble in shadow often is a pile of beans on the plate of the lowest Prince of Amber's plate." Emmet chuckles. "Maybe. But the question is fair, my fellow lord. I would answer it, if the Princess so asked. But she has asked you. You first, anyway." Unable to shake Brieanne's attention, Neil lets a few more moments of the carriage rolling along before he answers. Brieanne waited patiently, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "There are those who do not wield the power they have well, and those whose fiefdoms and inheritances are unworthy of them. My own inheritance is smaller than theirs, and yet my talent and ambition are far greater. I ask you, is this a state of affairs I should not change? The current Mayor, for instance. He has no heir. He is old and nearly infirm. I have watched him piss away this city since the War. And he laughs at his betters." "Even the Prime Minister wastes what he has been given." Neil's eyes gleam. "But to dare to dream to usurp the likes of *him* would attract Amber's attention, would it not?" "Indeed...." Brieanne purred. "We are often left with matters not to our tastes or ambitions. Although, in striving to change them, we sometimes over reach... But, as they say, great gains from great risks." She stared out the window a moment, watching the street with a sharp, thoughtful expression. Brieanne does see, before the slowing of the carriage, that a line of carriages also headed to the Opera House have for the moment slowed their progress if not to a crawl, at least to something less than the brisk pace set earlier. "But do tell, where is dear uncle Corwin in the midst of all this?" "Prince Corwin?" Neil looks at Emmet with a puzzled and baffled expression on his face. Emmet doesn't quite return the look, instead, he gives a slight nod of the head. "I believe my counterpart knows more of the Prince than I do." Neil says. "Don't you, milord?" he says to Emmet. Emmet nods and clears his throat. "He's not been about Amber and its regions much since the War of course, milady Princess. Surely you know that. I admit that I do not understand the business of the succession. I would have thought he, or perhaps the Prince Benedict, should succeed your grandfather. Does Prince Corwin not now reside in a realm of his own making, in deepest shadow, rarely to ever come this way?" "There are rumors to the contrary." Neil puts in. "But being closer to Amber, you would of course have heard them more freshly than I." "Mmm..." Brieanne nodded. "He was always so interested in intrigue and getting his fingers into everyone's pies. It is difficult to imagine him forever absent, if that is how he choses to be." She pursed her lips, looking as if she disapproved and glanced at Neil. "I hear many rumors, but I rarely give them too much weight... but we're in a realm that does not readily lie for us, so perhaps you have heard something interesting?" Neil regards Brieanne. He gives a look at Emmet, who keeps his expression mild, bland, and singularly unhelpful. "The story I have heard, and surely a Princess like yourself would know more" Neil finally says. "is that Princess Deirdre is gravely injured but alive, and that Prince Corwin is overseeing her convalescence in the Castle." "You shouldn't believe everything our Ambassador tells you, Neil." Emmet comments. "If that were true, then the Princess here wouldn't be asking where Prince Corwin was. She'd just walk down the hall and knock on his door." "Interesting..." Brieanne pursed her lips again, a brief expression, curious instead of vexed. "And usually, rather than believing everything, it is often just a nugget that is true. The wheat from the chaff ..." "It is what I have heard" Neil shrugs. "Take it for what you will" "I still think you listen to Ferla Quist because you are trying to f..." Emmet stops mid-word, gives a glance at Brieanne thoughtfully and then looks at Neil "seeking to seduce her." "Patently false." Neil says. "It does beg the question of why the Princess is so interested in Prince Corwin. Does he owe you the payment of some large wager, perhaps? Why DO you seek news of him in particular?" Brieanne chuckled darkly. "My uncle has lived an adventurous life. He owes a great many people, even if he chooses not to see it that way. But perhaps I should have begun by asking who of my family might be present beside Shannon and William, because that is always of interest and more accuate than giving him undue importance. He simply has a reputation for being a frequent character when there is intrigue." "Ah, that is a more natural question." Neil says. He relaxes slightly. "To tell the truth Princess, it is uncommon in these last years for a single lord of Amber to come through Begma, and for two to arrive has caused quite a stir. For three to do so is unprecedented. More than that would be unusual, and yet..." he stops and looks at Emmet expectantly. "Well" Emmet clears his throat. "I had heard rumors of doings in the back country, with a number of members of the Royal Family of Amber. Some sort of nasty business with the Moonriders. It is said a couple of Amber Royal Family members gave them chase clear to Begma." "Including you" Emmet adds with a swallow of the throat. "That part of the rumor is clearly incorrect, since you are here. I thought it prudent not to mention it before." The carriage crawls forward toward the Opera House, carriages queuing up for the lords and ladies being unloaded. "Clearly" Neil says. "And there are always rumors of that cuckold of the Prime Minister running around. Coral." "She and I have not met." Brieanne shrugged. "And it would not be impossible to hunt in the morning, bathe dress and be presentable for dinner." Brieanne offered a crooked grin. "I am quite mobile." "Then you do admit to hunting Moonriders, then, milady Princess?" Neil asks. "Or at the very least, in the way that your family does, do not deny it?" Emmet laughs. "It is said that to enquire too closely of the prey of a Huntress is to tread on ground where one might become such quarry himself" It's clear to Brieanne that the thought of Neil being brought to chase by Brieanne is irresistible. "What?" Neil says, furrowing his eyebrows. He stops, as the carriage's stop and go motion brings it finally in front of the opera house. A linkman with a lantern as well as a doorman of the opera house approach the carriage to allow Brieanne and the two Begman nobles egress from the carriage. "Welcome to the Opera House." the doorman says. "Tonight's production, as you no doubt know, is of The Traveller in Black, by Johann Spring." He offers a hand toward Brieanne. (William) "Definitely traitors," William agrees with a nod. "But Emmet, I think, is salvageable. More drawn in and trapped, than actively treacherous. My trip with them was intended to give them a chance to incriminate themselves in front of the foolish drunken prince. Now, that part of the game is over." He regards her with interest. "Are you an agent of the Prime Minister, then? Kowal's masters are not merely enemies of Begma, they are enemies of Amber as well. And far more than that, as well." "Indeed." Electra says. "My research has lead into very disturbing intimations of what they are up to." She cocks her head. "If we are allies of convenience, or at the very least, with aligned interests, I should introduce myself properly, Prince William." She backs against a chimney, takes off the top of her body stocking, shakes out the blond curls of her head and regards William with a smile. (Casting call: Yvonne Strahovski) "I am the agent of, and also the daughter of, the former Queen of Begma. " She smiles. "I'm Coral's daughter." "Cousin" she adds, brightly. William laughs in delight and sweeps her a bow. "Oh, well done, Coral!" he says. "Cousin, your mother has done an excellent job of keeping you a secret. I had no idea at all that you existed, and I am pleased indeed to meet you." "The secret can no longer be kept." she replies. "Although I am not ready to be revealed to Random. Those who already know have remained thankfully silent." William lets the implied request that he not tell Random pass without comment. He sits down on the roof with his back against a chimney. "Our targets have entered the Opera House with my ... that is, with our cousin, Brieanne," he says. "So we have some little time to talk before the hunt resumes. Tell me, how fares your mother? Speaking with her was one of the more secret reasons for my current tour of the Golden Circle. And I have also recently learned that the Outsiders consider her a key to their conquest." "I can guess why they might think my mother is important to their plans and aims." Electra says, regarding and sizing up William. "Given their ultimate objectives of destruction of our universe, it makes sense they would seek to find and bind her." "And me, if they but knew." she adds. "I do not believe that my Mother knows of your intent to meet her." she continues. "I took note of the arrival of your flotilla in the harbour, of course. However, it was our understanding that you were being pushed out of Amber for the nonce because of your less than obedient demeanor." "At least, that is your cover." she says with a smile. "But you said that the Princess Brieanne is in the carriage, and not the Princess Shannon?" William nods. "Shannon had something else to attend to, and we arranged an 'accidental' meeting with Brieanne, which led to her going to the opera with them once they had returned the 'drunken wastrel.' I managed to get enough information from them to identify where I believe their Omphalos handler has set up, and to filch the devices they use to communicate with him or her. Now Brieanne is conducting her part of the fact finding mission. We'll decide what to do with them depending on what else we learn." "I see" Electra says. I had no inkling that the Princess Brieanne was involved at all in your operations. Neither did my mother." He regards her silently for a few long moments, then says, "We're at the 'how much do we trust each other' stage now. I've given you quite a bit, and considering the level of threat our universe is facing, I'm willing to give you more. But I need reciprocity." Electra sighs. "Very well." she says. "Especially since we will just get in each other's way if we do not cooperate. My mother, and I, have an innate and strong connection to the Jewel of Judgement, a connection that the Omphalos wish to exploit for their universe-ending aims. My mother is in the borderlands where Begma fades into Eregnor, and has been working on projects to better understand the powers and abilities that have been...grafted onto her, and gifted to me." William nods thoughtfully. "Recently, we noticed unusual power emanations from an old Manse just upriver from the city here. My mother sent me to investigate. I discovered our two nobles here going back and forth to the Manse, although it has nothing to do with their feudal estates, and so I resolved to start observing them and their doings. That is when I discovered on the grounds what I learned from a contact in the Amber Family is an Omphalos Door." There is also something unusual going on with the Mayor. I can see a tangle of enchantment and ensorcelement on him, clearly from the doing of the Omphalos-backing nobles." Electra adds. "What more did you wish to know?" she adds. "The Door on the manse confirms that it's where their handler is located, as I thought," William says. "We'll need to decide if we want to negate it or use it to attack them. As for the Lord Mayor, by now he should be free from the enchantment, although hopefully it has been done subtly enough that the Omphalos won't yet be aware of it. I'm fairly confidant we can get him to do whatever we need him to do, to revenge himself on the ones who were enchanting him. By the way, do not sit in either of the thrones in his throne room, the spells are subtle but powerful." "The Omphalos are not lacking in their use of magic." Electra says. "And I should think the Lord Mayor will be roused to action once free." Her tone takes on a delighted tone. William rubs his hands together and smiles in a predatory fashion. "Shannon should have reported back to Random by now, and we may have a Royal command on how to proceed. Are you primarily interested in gathering information, or do you want to be in on our counteract against these invaders?" "My mandate from my Mother was to observe and report their doings, and if an opportunity to kidnap them was possible, then to do so. Ideally, cousin, my plan was to wait for them to make another journey to the Manse, and intercept them en route, and take them to my mother for debriefing." "As long as your aims and the aims of King Random are to expunge the Omphalos influence from Begma entirely." Electra says. "My mother and I will aid you. We do not wish to ply the fish hook any longer, and want them removed from Begman soil." "You do understand" she adds "that my grandfather knows nothing about any of this, and my mother wants to keep it that way." she says. "Age and caution have slowed the Prime Minister and Coral wants to present him with a fait accompli. That isn't a problem, is it?" "Not at all," William says. "In fact, that ties in rather nicely with the reason I wanted to talk with your mother, which has nothing to do with the Omphalos. But we can return to that later. For now, the important point is that our two naughty boys spilled enough information in front of the drunk wastrel prince to easily convict them of treason, and a report on that is already making its way to the Lord Mayor. So there will be no difficulty to us picking them up at our leisure and taking them someplace private for a friendly little chat." "Then that is what we shall do" Electra says. "So, will we go and join the Princess at her destina...?" Electra stops speaking. And at this point, William gets the tell tale feel of a trump call contact. "You are being trumped" Electra says and then smiles slightly. "Mother tells me that I shouldn't reveal that I can do that." "Best you don't," William agrees with a smile. "But you can trust me." The smile is still on his face as he opens himself to the trump contact. "Who?" he asks. The contact reveals to be Shannon. Behind her in the background is Devaine, and William is pretty sure that Kiathas or Valric, probably both are just "out of frame" judging from the fist that is gently punched into Devaine's shoulder. "Cousin" Shannon says. "I didn't quite realize that you had time to work a date into your spying operation, especially traveling along rooftops." And then her eyes narrow in furrowed concentration as she first looks at Electra, and then quizzically back at William. "You should have greater faith in my abilities, Cousin," William answers easily. "For important matters I can alwasy find the time. Things are calm here. The boys have taken our cousin to the opera, and they're just settling down for the show. Plenty of time to make the pickup later, after they've been pumped for as much as we can get without ... persuasion. What's the situation there?" "I'll go with the good parts, and then the puzzle." Shannon says. "The Lord Mayor is doing well, whatever was done to him seems to be holding." Shannon says. "The new spell is an improvement, as far as I can tell, from the previous Omphalos one." "I also spoke to his Majesty the King." Shannon says. "I told him of our doings to date. He has given us approval to turn over the hornet's nest of that Manse and see what Omphalos fruit falls out of the tree." Her smile fades. "However, he is extremely confused." Shannon says. "I told him about Brieanne's arrival, trying to determine how much we can import her into our plans and doings. According to him, last he heard, Brieanne is currently convalescing in Arden following the appearance of Omphalos forces there. Julian and Brieanne's house, William, was burned down in the attack. She was injured in some way that Random didn't have details on, some sort of esoteric fashion, but he was firm and clear on that point." "She shouldn't be here." William nods. His expression is thoughtful, but not surprised. "What are your and your mother's current relations with Julian?" he asks. "This should be followed up. We need more information." "They have little in common." Shannon says. "I know Julian respects my mother far more than she reciprocates the sentiment" Shannon says. "It is a thorny little problem, isn't it? I think I'll set my brother to find out more and tell us what he discovers. He'll enjoy the puzzle." "Do that," William says with a decisive nod. "You still haven't told me who your friend is, William" Shannon adds. "Or were you expecting me to deduce her identity, or at least her role?" "She's a ... special agent. For Coral. Who is starting to take over some of her father's duties, which ties in nicely with our own plans. Don't spread that information around, Coral is playing things quiet." William smiles. "She's in town for the same reason we are, investigating who is behind the plot to subvert the Lord Mayor. We are going to coordinate on questioning our two prodigal lords once Bri is through with her own subtle questioning. Which I'm monitoring, by the way. Right now she's having a great deal of fun toying with them, and I think suggesting that she might not care if they're traitors, as long as they're amusing. I'm staying ready to move when she tires of the game. And then I think we will be moving on the Omphalos site up the river, possibly immediately, certainly within the next 24 hours." "Decisive action is going to be needed." Shannon says with a slightly absent-minded tone, with the same free tone she might use in describing the need for a new bookmark. "Regardless of the strange situation with Brieanne." She continues. "I was unaware that Coral had her own agents and resources, but it will make our dealings with Coral all the easier that you have made contact, to say nothing of our goals and plans in that regard seem to fit in with hers." Shannon says. "She looks almost too pretty for this sort of work. "Just do remember that seducing her for reasons outside of on-mission goals may be unwise." she says with a smile William grins. "I shall find a way to fit it in with our goals," he assures her. Then he abruptly sits up straighter. "All right, this is interesting. She's pushing them. We may move faster than I was anticipating." "Be careful with Brieanne, William" Shannon warns. "Whether she is our cousin, or someone or something else. She might be pretending to be on our side only to be following her own agenda. And that." she adds "holds true even if the facts are garbled and that is our cousin we've let loose in Begma." "Recall the conversation when she first appeared," William says to Shannon. "Go back over it in your head. You are saying nothing I have not already taken into consideration." Through the call, William sees Shannon nod in agreement.
"Still, I almost feel like you're outnumbered out there between that agent and Brieanne." Shannon says. "Are you sure you don't want to bring me through at an opportune moment? Or your triad of friends?" "Bide a moment," William says. He pauses, appearing to listen to something no one else can hear, then says, "More details are coming clear. It appears there is a larger conspiracy than we thought, both here and in the capitol, and a large part of the feeling behind it is opposition to the possibility of Coral taking her father's place. Nobles who fear their own influence decreasing under her rulership." He shakes his head. "I think I want you where you are, Shannon, in case of possible problems there. But have my comrades in readiness." "Then it is opportune we've come across it." Shannon says. "I wonder" she says idly in a moment of levity "If Pollux gets to deal with this sort of intrigue." She shakes her head at the idle thought "I'll find Kiathas, Devaine and Valric and we'll stay close to the Lord Mayor and await word from you. Or word to you if things get...interesting." "It's a plan," William says with a decisive nod. "Stay ready for contact." "Agreed. Shannon out." He waits for her to close the contact, then looks over at Electra. "I think we should relocate onto the roof of the opera house," he says. "And be ready for action. Any questions before we move?" "Only one." Electra replies. "Are we receiving reinforcements immediately, or are we waiting for greater trouble to do so? Other than that, you will have to catch me." With a mischievous smile, she limbers herself up, as if daring William to out do her to the Opera House. In the night, William can read her body language, and practically see her planning her trip down the rooftops toward their destination. And then with a blown kiss, she is off to the races. With a laugh William is on his feet and chasing after her. He is splitting his attention between keeping track of her, calculating a course to the top of the Opera House that takes advantage of his superior strength and his belief that he can jump further than she can to make it there before her, and assuring that he remains unseen to any watchers. Juggling all those concerns makes it more difficult, of course, which is just the way he wants it. In a flat out race between Electra and William, the strong advantage would be on William by any reasonable betting actor. He's bigger, presumably stronger, and presumably more experienced. The frisson of the additional difficulty in keeping himself unseen by all and sundry ramps up the difficulty by at least an order of magnitude, perhaps two, making the contest far more of a toss-up. William's strategy, to take the route with longer (and thusly fewer) leaps is put to the test, and the courses do diverge significantly as Electra does favor a route with shorter jumps. Her familiarity with the city does make up for it again, and William's near-misjudging of a jump, landing precipitously close to the edge slows him down a beat. He does make up the difference and pulls ahead, but she dogs his progress on her own route, threatening to overtake him if he should falter once more. However, William does not. In the end, William's final leap puts him on the roof of the baroque opera house a solid three seconds before Electra makes her own final jump, landing a meter away from him. "Victory is yours." Electra says with a bow. "I concede the win to you, Prince of Amber." (Brieanne) "Welcome to the Opera House." the doorman says. "Tonight's production, as you no doubt know, is of The Traveller in Black, by Johann Spring." He offers a hand toward Brieanne. "Thank you." Brieanne accepted the doorman's assistance and waited for her companions. When they had disembarked she slipped her arm through Neil's. Neil accepts Brieanne's arm with a slight bit of reluctance, the hesitancy probably only noticed by Brie. "Have you seen the production tonight? Will it fit with our talk of intrigue and hunting, or is it something all together different?" "I suppose Begman Opera is not well known outside the cities and the länder of Begma." Neil says. He gives a wave to the carriage, which moves ahead and away, allowing him, Brieanne and Emmet leave to move toward the entrance to the Opera. "I think the Princess will enjoy it." Emmet says. "I would not have said that before tonight." "We shall see." Neil says briskly. He smiles to Brieanne as they near the entrance. "It is a relatively new production, only ten years old. A chimerical story about a wandering wizard in a realm at the edge of Chaos, seeking to undo and stop the forces of disorder. The Traveller hunts malevolent entities, tricks a city into giving up worship of a false god, and more. I do think that fits in with our theme tonight, does it not? And now you see why I think this would be wasted on your wastrel cousin?" "Oh.. he might surprise you... We're like that, you know." She winked at him. "A traveller tricking a city into giving up their false god... " She leaned on Neil's arm only lightly, but stepping in close as if to make certain no one beside Emmet could possibly hear her. "I have heard it argued that those of my family are false gods to be thrown from our privileged position. Certainly, some of my elders have behaved in such a fashion, have they not? Storming around Reality doing as they see fit? Bending creatures to their will, making themselves things of legend with legions willing to die for them. I wonder what the writer would make of them if he felt free to." "There are those" Neil says "That would see things in that manner. You must understand, of course, that without support, works that decry the royal family of Amber are an, ah, dangerous topic, politically." "Perhaps in the barbarity of Kashfa are their tales and plays and books with such subject matter." Neil replies. "Where the pressure of treaty with Amber makes such thoughts less dangerous." "Isn't their King really one of the Amber Royal Family too, even if he isn't clasped to their bosom?" Emmet says. "Come to think of it..." Neil stops his conversation, handing a couple of ducats to the doorman and bringing Brieanne into the anteroom of the Opera House. Here, now, as opposed to his conspiratorial, closed body language outside, here, he pushes Emmet lightly away, and moves so that anyone, everyone can see Brieanne on his arm, and his arm alone.The body language is clear: Neil is trying to show off Brieanne as an ornament--HIS ornament. "There is a banned opera from Kashfa I've heard of that opposes the Royal Family of Amber: 'The Lion of Eregnor'." He pauses a beat. "The story of Dalt. Surely you know it, at least from the perspective of the Amber Royal Family." "Hmm... Dalt." She didn't quite smile, but it sounded as if she might. "He has such a tragic story." She moved with Neil, managing to give Emmet a secret, wry glance, reminding him that he was on the 'in' of something else and could enjoy the irony of the moment. Emmet smiles briefly, not long enough for Neil to catch the gesture. "Have you had the pleasure of viewing the play, or hearing it read?" She was genuinely curious, without concern that it spoke badly of her family. "Its a banned work to be sure." Neil says. "And I am if nothing but a loyal subject of the Kingdom..." Emmet coughs slightly at this. "Any road" Neil turns his head slightly to glare at Emmet. "I have heard a small section of the opera's libretto, of Dalt's aiding of King Rinaldo to retain his throne during a coup attempt. Nothing particularly controversial in that, is there, Princess?" "Not to me." She purred. "His story is not yet done" Neil continues. "even if his dreams seem to have been muted. I have heard his daughter walks in Amber now, even if he has not been seen in the Golden Circle in several years. Tales abound that one of the Amberite Royal Family finished him off, or that he has fled for other climes." "Either is possible." Brieanne shrugged. Neil nods and smiles to one of the doormen, and leads Brieanne through them and into the main space of the Opera House. Unerringly, he leads her up one of the staircases and to a box seat. There are a number of these, hanging like apples on a tree, overlooking the rest of the Opera House and of the stage itself. This box seat is large enough for a significant fraction of Brieanne's family, but is seemingly reserved only for the three of them. Brieanne took her seat, still linking her arm with Neil's and leaning close while she watched the other guests take their seat in the main gallery below. "Darling, do you know why my family is so well known for dodgy answers? Why we chose not to refute or deny? Why we redirect and distract, and answer questions with questions when we don't wish to supply answers? Why we go through all of that and only dare to lie when there is no room left to wiggle?" She gazed up at him impishly, leaning on his shoulder. Neil shakes his head, smiling. "I do not" "It's because we are all so very well versed in diversion and manipulation, that we are all very good at knowing when we are being lied to." She was smiling broadly, but with an element of patience. Like a teacher with a student who had fallen short of the mark, but would be given credit for effort. "And you, my dear, are no loyal subject." She chuckled now, watching him. His amused look turns at first crestfallen, and then nervous, and then a clear cold paleness to his features. He breaks away his gaze to look at Emmet, who keeps a look as placid as a still lake in Arden. He finds no solace there, and returns his look to Brieanne. "But you have amused me, and that is always a good thing," she noted as she gave a happy sigh and turned again to watch the milling of people below. Below the less wealthy patrons of the opera are finding their seats. This is not truly a common theater with groundlings and the more base of humanity, but those relegated to seats in the main body are more burghers and merchants and middle class city folk than the more rich and more noble who have obtained balcony areas such as Neil's. There is a soft sound of chatter, indistinguishable, coming from the people below. And in the same fashion as Brieanne, Neil and Emmet gaze upon those below, there are those who cast their eyes at the balconies to see who might be there in turn. The attention Brieanne gets is not unexpected and not inconsiderable. "And if I, ah, fail to amuse?"Neil finally asks. "What, then, Princess?" "Hmm..." Brieanne mused aloud, "I expect I will have to find ways to amuse myself then, won't I?" Her gaze slid sideways, head tilting so she could look up into his face. It was a coy expression, but her gaze when it met Neil's was direct and unblinking. "Now, we still seem to have a bit of time before the show begins." She turned back toward the theater crowd. "So, tell me, what lure did they use to reel you in? For you certainly couldn't have gone directly to them. Which leaves me to wonder how they found you.. was it a bar brawl where they found the young, discontent noble? I don't imagine it was a poetry reading... " "Do tell." She turned back to him, curious and seeming in good spirit, even if it wasn't an emotion he shared. "You should ask Lord Emmet here, milady Princess." Neil says indignantly. "He is the one who recruited me into disloyalty, as you put it. He has always been the one who has led me down the primrose path. And he sits there, unperturbed by your line of questions at me, as a man who stands behind the archer, and not in front of him. Question him, Princess." The word Princess is now no positive noun in his speech, " He knows better than I." To her arcanely augmented ear, Brieanne can feel the deceptions and lies radiating from Neil like a beacon. "That is a lie" Emmet snaps. His tone is genuinely angry. "You've talked me into this morass, Neil. It was you who brought me to the Manse up the river. You who already seemed to be all too cozy with that pair of foreigners who have taken residence there. Unicorn, Man, you're the one who read the formula from them to ensorcel the Mayor's chair. I've been dragged behind you like a defeated warrior's body behind a cart. Go peddle your lies to someone who would believe them." He looks at Brieanne. "Shh..." She reached over and patted Emmet's arm, though she never took her eyes off of Neil. "You should know that I cannot be distracted once I've decided I want something, and this is nothing more than an effort to call my bluff. You see, he thinks it cannot be possible for me to tell if he's lying, so he makes an effort to lie more passionately... but really, that is little more than beacons in the night. Flash!" Her hand lifted from Emmet's arm, fingers spreading out to trace imagined fireworks. "It's quite illuminating, but not at all what he was hoping for." Emmet settles down from Brieanne's words. She was still smiling as she shifted her weight back toward Neil. Walking her fingers up his arm, her other arm still linking snugly with his. "Now, darling, do try again. Curiosity has really got the best of me. I can imagine all sorts of perfectly plausible scenarios, but that's really not as much fun as hearing how it really went." Neil looks at the arm around his own, as if judging if he could escape Brieanne's grasp. He looks at Emmet, whose expression has returned to placidity. Neil returns his gaze to Brieanne. The look on his face is exactly the one of an animal who is realizing that the last step it took was into a tree spring noose trap, and is about to be snared. "The Prime Minister is a fool." Neil finally says. "With a daughter supposedly your relative, Princess. The Mayor is an even bigger fool, and sick to boot. What the Prime Minister intended to do is obvious. Install his daughter, now conveniently divorced from that king in Kashfa, as the next Lord Mayor, as an obvious stepping stone to succeeding him." "And thus Begma becomes part of the Kingdom of Amber." he adds. "No. A thousand times, no. I would do anything to keep Begma from being an Annex of the Kingdom of Amber, ruled by King Random by proxy. It would almost be better to have Rinaldo rule us. For at least the people of Begma would rebel against that. Coral they would welcome as a Queen." "When at this very Opera House I found the Theurgist of the Manse , or you might say, he found me, I knew that I had found the answer to my fears. And the source of my desires. And so our plans have been set in motion. We have been gathering allies, and strength. Here and in the Capital." "The rest of it, Emmet has explained. He has the right of it." "Now see, that wasn't so hard, was it?" She gave his arm a little pat. The gesture doesn't seem to reassure him. Instead, he looks like he has eaten a lemon. "And right here at the opera house! It would make for a story.. a story within a story. Audiences love that." She confided. "But, have you ever paused to wonder how he found you? How he knew that you were the one who wished the solution he could offer? How he knew to wrap his little web around you? Oh! And what is he called? Is something appropriately dark? We shall have to invent one if it's too terribly drab, good names are so important." "I do not know how he found me." Neil says. "Call it providence, call it luck for him to find one of the few nobles who would be sympathetic to his plans, and would not immediately turn him to Coral. He is a sorcerer, Princess Brieanne. Sorcerers rarely tell you their real names, for fear of it robbing their power or some other such nonsense." He shakes his head. "He called himself Lord Unravel. Invent a better one, he is unlikely to know or care you did." "Lord Unravel." Brieanne gave a small bark of a laugh, brows twisting in amusement. "Oh well he just thinks he's a witty one doesn't he? And, darling, I assure you, there was nothing lucky about it. We might be eccentric and have weird little things about names, but around people of power... providence isn't really what serves us, it's just what we make it look like." She favored him with a feral smile. "And he will most certainly know what I call him, because you are going to introduce me." Neil looks horrified at this prospect. She gave his arm another little pat and turned to look out at the rest of the audience for a moment. Emmet releases a held breath. Down below, nearly everyone has taken their seats, and the first strains of the orchestra warming up can be heard. The Opera is about to start. Neil does not say anything for a long moment. "I am?" he finally squeaks. "But...but if I do, he will kill me. Dead. Would it not be better for you, and those cousins of yours to go without me? Wouldn't that, err, um, make for better hunting?" The desire, and indeed, the need for flight is clear in Neil's eyes. He's looking for an exit strategy, and now. There is also a buzzing in Brieanne's head, as if someone were trying to trump her, but not quite managing it correctly. "Shh.... Darling, I assure you, I wouldn't let him do any such thing... while I'm standing there, at least. For now," she glanced at him, smiling sweetly. "You belong to me." Perhaps not unexpectedly, this does not quite reassure Neil, but he does clam up for the moment. He nods, once, and then makes a point, a visible point, of looking down at the stage. The overture to the Opera begins with a bright, lively number, although there are no performers on the stage and the curtain has not risen. [Brieanne] looked back at the stage, seeming engrossed with the music while she tried to capture the misfired Trump. Being unperturbed by Neil, or Emmet for that matter, pretending to concentrate on the music gives her the room and time to concentrate on the puzzle of the trump. It's like working on a complicated arcane puzzle or problem. With some cleverness, Brieanne solves the problem, subconsciously managing to attune it properly without quite knowing why it was misfiring, but solved nevertheless. The call resolves to be from Noys, Eric's daughter. "Brieanne?" she says with caution, confusion and care in her voice. The trump is still somewhat distorted, the image thus imperfect. The background, as far as Brieanne can make it out, is definitely not Amber or any shadow in the vicinity. Too much of an advanced looking shadow all around her. Its a bedroom of some sort, Noys sitting on the bed. A glass and steel city gleams outside the window over her left shoulder. (william) William's strategy, to take the route with longer (and thusly fewer) leaps is put to the test, and the courses do diverge significantly as Electra does favor a route with shorter jumps. Her familiarity with the city does make up for it again, and William's near-misjudging of a jump, landing precipitously close to the edge slows him down a beat. He does make up the difference and pulls ahead, but she dogs his progress on her own route, threatening to overtake him if he should falter once more. However, William does not. In the end, William's final leap puts him on the roof of the baroque opera house a solid three seconds before Electra makes her own final jump, landing a meter away from him. "Victory is yours." Electra says with a bow. "I concede the win to you, Prince of Amber." William returns the bow. "It was a near thing, my lady. Your skills match your beauty." In the night, William can see Electra blush, but not immediately answer. He looks around then, taking stock of their surroundings. "Let us find a good place to wait out the opera, where we are well situated to enter immediately if the situation calls for it, but also well placed to watch without being seen." The roof of the Opera House is fronted by a suite of statues facing outward to the streets around the square building. A couple of graduated terraces at the top of the Opera House, including the one William and Electra stand on, give the place a neo-classical baroque appearance and the building is one of the largest and most ornate buildings outside the Alcazar and the Mage School in the city. As such, there are several access points to the interior from here, given the meticulous work in keeping up its appearance. There is no sign of anyone on the various levels of the roof besides the pair at this time. "We can enter from the top" Electra says. "Or, if our quarry decides to flee Brieanne, get down in a hurry to the exits. Alternatively, we can get down to one of the outside balconies below us." she points down. "And be in a position to enter in a hurry." "You'll have warning with this link of yours, though, won't you?" she asks. William nods. "Still keeping track of thing." He frowns thoughtfully, then shakes his head and continues. "Let us stay on the roof," he says. "It gives us more options." "The roof it is." Electra says. "Its a bit late to try and crash the Opera, another option we might have." [William] looks over at Electra and smiles. "So, then, my lady," he says. "It seems we shall have some little time to wait. Tell me more of yourself. What do you do when you are not leaping about on rooftops on your mother's business?" "No, no" Electra wags her finger. "As much as you might like to, ah, pump me for information, Mother would be rather cross with me if I didn't get information from you as well. She isn't precisely a fixture at the Court of Amber, whereas you are. Or sometimes are." "But I will go first." she says. "I enjoy hiking, bicycling through shadow, watching historical epic dramas, reading romance novels, and eating spicy food. My turn offs are mushrooms, sweet potatoes, bad penmanship, people who ingest burned intoxicants and stimulants, snoring, and days of the week starting with the letter T" She stops, gauging William's reaction, trying not to smirk. William doesn't even try not to smirk as he replies, "I fear we may not be perfectly matched. I enjoy hiking through shadow while fouling the wheels of bicyclists on the hiking trail, being at the center of epics and romances, and spicy mushroom dishes. I've been known to indulge in a pipe from time to time, as well. My turn offs..." he frowns thoughtfully. "Well, I am a man, after all. There aren't that many." "Of course there aren't." she says, in a teasing tone. "And truth, be told, my mother has told me of your perceived reputation. And even if she did not, your archetype as the son of Princess Florimel precedes you." William grins boyishly. "But to truly answer your question in a far less flippant manner." Electra replies. "Besides climbing rooftops, I've been studying the Golden Circle and the sphere of shadows just beyond it. The ones I can reach by land, anyway. Many ship captains still believe women to be bad luck." "And Amber itself has been off limits for reasons I think you will appreciate. I also expect that traveling through Arden on bicycle might invite interest from Prince Julian's forces. I don't want my bike to be chewed on by Brieanne's hellhounds." "Now, your turn." she says, sizing him up. "You, William, are not known for extensive missions on behest of his Majesty, especially with a daughter of Fiona and a daughter of Julian." "Ah," William says, "Well, there was that duel with Triton, you know. Be a bit of an insult to Rebma if there wasn't some kind of punishment for that. So here I am, off on what is ostensibly a diplomatic tour. But, of course, everyone knows I'm no diplomat, and just along for the partying." He puts on a patently false look of innocent naivety. "And neither is the Princess Shannon a diplomat, from all reports." Electra replies. "She who would spend all of her time in libraries and museums than engage in the banter, cut and thrust of the words of Court. Most curious, then, that his Majesty King Random would do so patently an obvious falsehood." She shakes her head. "And then there is the mysterious arrival of your cousin Brieanne, who now interrogates Begman nobles." "If confusion is what you seek to sow by such gambits, Prince William, then you are succeeding. I suspect, regardless of why you are in Begma, that in the midst of this diplomatic endeavor you ostensibly lead, you are really checking all of the Golden Circle for activity from the Omphalos?" "They are certainly a matter of interest," William acknowledges. "I have only just begun my own investigations of the Golden Circle and neighboring shadows. What can you tell me about what you have seen in your travels through them?" "Most of the activity I've heard regarding the Omphalos has been in and around Amber" Electra begins. "Most, but not all." she clarifies. "I still haven't seen a Door except on the grounds of the Manse we're going to visit once the Opera is complete. Before that, I'd heard of strange sorcerers wandering around the Golden Circle. Mother mostly wanted me to observe and report and not get into trouble by engaging with any of them directly." "I listened to Mother." She regards William with a smirk. "Mostly." William chuckles. She exhales and continues. "And then there was that weird recent set of what I would swear were shadowstorms, even though we're so deep in the Golden Circle that I wouldn't have expected they could occur here. Not since the end of Patternfall, anyway. But it was in the wake of that storm that things have heated up at the Manse." "I suspect that is true elsewhere, as well." Electra says. "I hadn't heard of any marines or other military forces on your ships to deal with Omphalos outposts, William." she says pointedly, crossing one leg over another. "Or am I wrong?" "Not the mission," William says absently. "I'm information gathering, with authority to handle things as I see fit. Random's military efforts are separate and tangential to what I am currently doing. We've not brought military units along with us." He grins wolfishly. "In any case, anything that Shannon, myself, and my companions cannot handle would need a lot more than a company of marines to take out." He admires her crossed legs for a few seconds, then looks at her face once again. "Assuming that I do decide to take my information gathering self through that door, are you willing to come along? Or is that disobeying your mother a little too bluntly?" "I am not a golem or a homoculus that my mother has created, you know" she says with a blooming smile. Her eyes had watched William's, taking note of his interest. She shifts slightly against the wall, but maintains the pose. "If you were suggesting that we take a visit to my father, I think that obtaining forgiveness for that would be far more difficult than if I asked forgiveness for an incursion into Omphalosstan, or whatever they call their realm." "I have a strong mislike of invaders of my home world." Electra says, her tone turning to cold steel. "And hurting them on their home soil, even if that injury is only in gathering information to injure them with greater forces, has a most appealing sound to me, William." "Besides" she adds, her voice a purr. "I'm sure you could and would try to charm my mother into acceptance of it after the fact, now couldn't you?" William chuckles. "I was planning on charming her into political intrigue already, this is a minor thing compared to that." He gives her another roguish grin. "And I wasn't proposing speaking to your father until after I had settled things with your mother. Although he has an equally important role to play in what I have in mind." "My *father*, now?" Her stress is on the word father, stretching it out to three syllables. "I truly did not realize you were so well informed, cousin." Electra replies. "I suppose, given the likes of two sorceresses on your payroll, I should not be entirely surprised. And I admit that with talk of him, your mandate, such as it were, is much larger than I had anticipated." "My mother's goals and plans are quite clear in the main, but I suspect that if you intend to charm her into political intrigue that goes beyond the Invaders from Beyond, you are likely talking Succession Politics, aren't you?" William nods. "Details are classified, of course, but I'm looking at a way to settle the Eregnor problem." Electra exhales slightly, as if in relief. "The Eregnor Problem has been a problem for centuries, even millennia for good reason." she says. "Too many rival claims, too much bad blood, too much desire to have all of the loaf, rather than half of it." "Of course, you know" she says "Mother was to marry King Rinaldo as a way of handling that issue, amongst others. Unfortunately, that did not quite work out as planned. I won't press you on your classified details. Not that I am not intensely curious, but because any success on your part would be so surprising as to leave half the Golden Circle speechless and stunned in shock." "I take it Eregnor and Kashfa are the next stops on your expedition, once we deal with the problem at hand?" Electra says. "The exact next step, in fact, was to determine where your mother was, and go there. Both to discuss this matter, and to warn her that the Omphalos were searching for her, as part of their plot against the Pattern." He regards her with a speculative expression. "Which brings up the question, since your mother is keeping your existence a secret, which Pattern did you walk, and how did she manage it?" " Mother is not precisely hiding, mind you. I can lead you to my mother, that's certainly no problem." she says briskly. "She will certainly want to speak to you after we deal with the Manse, its inhabitants and what we find there, including any explorations through its Door." "But what makes you think I walked the Pattern, William?" she says, teasing with a smile. "Or are you using some trick taught to you by Aunt Fiona? Or cousin Lorius, perhaps?" (the Erkus Opera House is played by the Budapest Opera House) (Brieanne) The call resolves to be from Noys, Eric's daughter. "Brieanne?" she says with caution, confusion and care in her voice. The trump is still somewhat distorted, the image thus imperfect. The background, as far as Brieanne can make it out, is definitely not Amber or any shadow in the vicinity. Too much of an advanced looking shadow all around her. Its a bedroom of some sort, Noys sitting on the bed. A glass and steel city gleams outside the window over her left shoulder.
"I am, but how you are doing, now, that is why I've been trying to call you for a couple of days now, my time." Noys says. Her voice sounds a little distorted, just as her image continues to be. "I've been worried about you since what happened, and thought I could try and reach you myself." she says. "This is the first time I've managed to trump you even this well. I'm reluctant to disconnect it and try again; I may not reach you again." Brieanne looked concerned, and perhaps a wee bit confused, but in the dark it was too suble to be noteworthy and may simply have been a reaction to the going ons below. A scrutinzing look comes over her face. Although she doesn't speak, the mental connection between the pair (and the lack of defenses Noys is employing for the call) allows Brieanne a peek at her mental thoughts. *Brie's at an Opera House?* *Two nobles with her.* *Begmans by their colors and dress.* And then with delight. *The Opera House in Tyin!* "What are you doing in Begma, Brie?" Noys finally says. "Not your usual hunting grounds." *No...* Brieanne agreed, still keeping the contact purely mental on her side, *it is not, and I will confess to you that it is not where I expected to be, but I found William with Shannon and have lent them my assistance. This boy here has been somewhat treacherous and I am interogating him in my own special way. I think he would much rather be in someone else's hands.* She gave Neil's arm another pat, and the smile that went with the words was sly and a bit smug. Unsurprisingly, without context, Neil is not comforted by Brieanne's gesture, and still looks like he would love to be elsewhere. Anywhere. The amusement Noys feels comes through the contact, and washes away a fair amount of her apprehension and worry for Brie that Noys feels. Some of that still flavors the trump, but her relief is clear. Noys responds. "I do not envy your prey's eventual fate, although I confess to morbid curiosity as to exactly what you have in mind for him once his usefulness in giving up information has ended." "But, treachery, though?" She pauses a beat. "Does this have to do with the Enemy?" Brieanne cocked her head, pausing before she answered. *William did suggest such, and whoever they are, they are aiming for control of Begma. Given its proximity to Amber, it would be to their advantage.* "Ah, and here I thought you might be keeping tabs on someone *else*" Noys says, with a nod. "Not that isn't possible, too, given where you are. Control of Begma, however, would indeed be a prize for the Oompa..." she stops. "Now Lorius has *me* doing it." she says in amused self-reproach. The distortion of the call resolves, suddenly, the trump becomes crystal clear and perfect. "There!" Noys says with delight. "Better?"
To Brieanne's memory, Noys has always kept her full range of abilities and powers to be extremely private. Brieanne is probably one of the few people that have any idea what she can really do, really is capable of, and really has done. Noys' ability as a sorceress is not as great as Brie's--but she did not have the special training and teacher Brie did. She certainly learned some of her way around a sword, as her father would have approved. Noys' goals and interests are very much aligned with Brieanne's own, and has been working in her own sphere toward them. Brieanne doesn't explicitly remember Noys asking her, or anyone else about the art of Trumps--but given her interests and learning ability as given above, there are a number of people who might have taught her. Not *him*, of course, but there are other options.
Below, in the Opera, the first act of the Opera proceeds apace. After a brief prologue, The Traveller is declaiming that the world is wracked by the forces of disorder, and that he, in journeying to the Lake of Hali, will begin its cleansing. "How charming. Funny how righteous people sound in their diatribes..." Brieanne mused, tilting her head and offering a vague, thoughtful smile as she watched the scene on stage. "I seem to not understand" Neil murmurs. "The Traveller is the hero of this Opera. He is going to face the forces of Chaos, of Disorder, of those things that must not be. He is meant to be sympathized, empathized with. He represents himself as an Icon of Order." "I suspect" Emmet says "that the bombasity of the Traveller is definitely not suited to the Princess. Her patience for such self-important buffoons is at best, limited." "Maybe" Emmet says. Their voices are low enough, and the voices on stage loud enough that Brieanne can pay attention. The Traveller continues his monologue for a little bit longer, continuing to proclaim himself and paint himself as the person who will lead the charge. "His issue is that he is self-appointed and those sort always miss critical details." Brieanne commented to the men. "Hmm" Neil says. "Sometimes someone *must* act. That's the point." "He who leads the charge," Brieanne mused, "sometimes take the fall...." As the Prologue ends and the Opera curtain briefly closes to allow the change to the full meat of the first Act, Noys resumes her conversation. Its clear she was studying the Opera as well.
The contact holds for the moment, as the curtain to the first act raises, revealing a >> carboard village, and the Traveller entering into it. A painted scene in the background suggests the aforementioned Lake.
Noys gives a smile to Brieanne, and the contact ends. She studied the scene on stage, watching the actor stride through the make believe town. "So, how does the hero fare in this story?" She turned her full attention to Neil again. "Does it all come out the way he wishes it to be?" Neil laughs nervously. "Do you not wish to watch the remainder of the play and see it for yourself?" he asks. "I did not think it was the custom of Amber to be content with summaries and abbreviations of works of art, rather than experiencing them." "I think you're reading too much into the Princess' question, Neil." Emmet suggests, perhaps insincerely. "I've been reading into the words of the Princess a fair amount the last few hours." he says in a swallow. Brieanne's slight smile would be equally fitting on a viper, and she seemed pleased that they were taking things just the way she meant them with no extra prodding on her part. "If you do wish me to tell you the story..." Neil has the look of a man who realizes that an unhappy and most unavoidable appointment may be near. "The Traveller's efforts at first go very well, but it emerges that he creates a threat of his own making, in solving one problem, he created a larger one that lurks, unseen for the middle of the play. That will be the confrontation in the final act." "OH, it's all so YOU!" She giggled, patting his arm and looking back to the stage and the play still unfolding. "I'm sure it was all going so well for you too, but... you got into bed with the wrong people." She wrinkled her nose and gave him a look that was mildly scolding but somewhat sympathetic for the mistake. "And then we showed up and... well... things usually go sideways after that." On stage, the Traveller is exhorting the people not to worship the idol of a God the people have invented out of whole cloth. Its very much blood and thunder, somewhat ponderous. The seriousness of the opera is unmistakable, every monologue in the libretto declamatory, and the music matches the mood. Neil shakes his head. The unhappiness on his face grows into a frown. "No, the Opera is not about me. Not really." he says. He looks at Brieanne's hand not with comfort, but perhaps as if it were a serpent to be wary of. "The traveller's troubles of his own making will be overcome in the third act." he says. straightening his pose. "He will defeat his foe, and set to rights things as they should be, and should have been in the first place." "If you wish to apply the plot of the opera to me." Neil says, his tone serious. "It means that the introduction of you to Lord Unravel and the rest of my friends, as you label them, will not go well for you, Prince William milady Princess. Or this one, either." He gives Emmet a cold and harsh look. "Do not think I have not heard your words and seen your actions, brother noble. Or did you plan to go back to your lair after this Opera is done?" "I would be happy to accompany the Princess if she wishes it." Emmet says loyally. At the tone of his voice. the portion of Brieanne's mind working on the ideas for her spells has that facet click into place, now. It would work, just as the other portions of the planned spellcraft would. "I thought so." Neil says. (William) WWilliam matches her smile with one of his own. "Mere logic, dear cousin. I don't believe your Mother would let you travel the Golden Circle shadows on such dangerous tasks if you were dependent upon natural shadow paths, nor do I think she'd leave you so unarmed against the foes you face. And having taken some measure of you, I also don't believe that if you were left with such a disadvantage, you wouldn't have found a way to get to a Pattern on your own." He chuckles. "Let me know if I am misjudging you." She shakes her head. "Despite your propensity to get friends and enemies to underestimate you, William, I see that your perspicacity is not to be discounted." She nods thoughtfully for a moment, weighing matters. "I do have a Pattern Imprint, its true." she says. "However, revealing which one I have inscribed within me would be too compromising of someone Mother and I trust, you see." she says. "But it is useful to find a shadow world to practice certain skills without fear of lasting consequences. I do see, though, that I am going to have to improve my skills at Parkour." "A question I've for you." Electra cocks her head. "Although you put great pains to downplay both your swordsmanship, your ability at free running,and especially your arcane skills, I am curious where you learned the last. Are you a secret student of one the children of Clarissa?" "Saying I'm a 'student' of anyone is somewhat overstating it," William answers with a laugh. "I've picked up..." he frowns, and holds up a hand. "Bide a moment," he says. "Things look to be turning interesting with our wayward lorldings." Electra nods. "I'll make a guess that they've decided to make a break for it, or they have angered the Princess enough to provoke a response. The feudal lords of Begma, especially of the cities, can use words like weapons in salons, parlors, and opera houses." She watches William expectantly as William himself opens himself up to the precipitating exchange between Brieanne and Neil. "I think she's won Emmet over," William answers, head slightly tilted to one side. "But Neil is considering making a scene. On the other hand, he might have just realized the sort of fae power and nature he is facing." He grins ar Electra. "If Bri really gets going, the Lord Mayor may have to call in architects to design a new Opera House." "Architects?" Electra gives William a very surprised look. "You know, I had never heard or had knowledge that Princess Brieanne was so talented a sorceress, and certainly not one capable of widescale destruction. My sources suggest someone capable of rearranging paths in Arden and perhaps summoning creatures." "Should we now intervene, before things go to that state?" she asks, stepping away from the wall. "If Brieanne is as unpredictably fae as you suggest, she may decide to unleash her fury on a whim regardless if Neil backs down. "Come," William says, not answering her question. He runs across the rooftop of the great Opera House, until he is above the carriages awaiting noble patrons. His eyes pass over the gossiping drivers below him, looking for the one who had been driving their carriage earlier. Leaving the balcony for the surety of the roof, William and his cousin can make their way to the side of the Opera House where the line of carriages awaits like a gleaming set of black beetles in the moonlight. All of the drivers are out mingling and passing the time in various ways, waiting for the Opera to end. A few of them, laughing and talking. A pair, together, under a magelight, appear to be reading a broadsheet, something relatively new to Begma and Amber. The driver for Neil and Emmet's carriage, as it so happens, is in back of the carriage behind his, in a small knot of drivers playing some sort of dice game with octahedral eight sided dice. It looks to William's eye to be something akin to craps. The driver raises his hand in the air, ready to make another throw of the dice against the cobblestones. "It's called Nine-out" Electra says, as if anticipating William's question. William nods absently, eyes flickering over the drivers below, judging distances and approaches. "Here is my thought," he says as he watches the scene below him. "The driver is their man, I want him out of the way. But I also want that carriage. We could descend to the street, purchase the clothes of one of the local ladies of the night, and then you can get friendly with their driver, and ask him to take you back to the carriage." He grins. "Say you've never done it in a toff's coach before. I'll be waiting in the coach, we'll render the driver unconscious and I'll take his clothes, then drive around to the front when Bri starts our with our boys." He looks at Electra. "How does that sound?" "A streetwalker, really?" she says, amused. "Purchasing the clothes of one of the ladies of the night would be so gauche. And unclean. It would be easier simply to create such clothes, would it not? And far faster for our purposes." She begins weaving her hands, and in an act of creation, a rather revealing outfit manifests itself in Electra's hands within a minute or two. William watches her with appreciation. "I did not wish to presume upon your ability with conjuration," he says. "But I am impressed." Electra smiles. "So, thus impressed, you'll play the Black Davy to me, then?" she says, looking down and studying her clothes as she talks. "You look almost too clean for the part, William. But the driver will not be looking at you, then, will he?" William laughs. "I'd be surprised indeed if he does," he says. He swings off the roof and heads for a shadowed way down to street level. William manages to clamber down the Opera House in a zig-zag fashion, using quiet balconies and darkened eaves as a method to do so. Whatever way Electra uses, its not the way that William eventually decides upon, or its significantly different, or her skills kept her out of sight as much as William sought himself to be. Without incident he manages to gain the carriage, and seat himself in it with none the wiser. He has a few minutes to himself before he hears a girlish giggle, and a laugh from the coachman in response. Footsteps coming up the driver's side of the coach, the driver and, dressed for the part, Electra. The driver never does see it coming, once he opens the door to reveal William in the front seat and gets subdued by William and his new cousin's efforts. "We're both going to need to change." Electra observes. "I would rather not Brieanne's first impression of me to be defined so." The driver's clothes, to William's eye, will fit imperfectly, but well enough to not need immediate alteration. Mother and sister would never approve, though. (Brieanne) Brieanne favored Emmet with a smile and then turned back to Neil. "I don't believe in prophecy, and I have found that situations rarely turn out as planned or to anyone's total satisfaction, so we shall go in open to all possibilities." She smiled broadly, clearly not worried. "Your confidence, Princess, is that of many of the Amberites I've heard of" Neil says. "Of course, to an outsider, it seems that most of the Amberites are arrogant and self-confident, or else simpering, retiring, morose types that would blow away in a stiff wind, like, say, the daughter of Prince Eric or the son of Princess Deirdre." Neil moves the fingers of his right hand to toy with the door insignia that Brieanne replaced. He doesn't quite hide the look of consternation on his face as his fingers 'straighten' and play with it. The look on Emmet's face, unseen by Neil, is one of sudden enlightenment, and perhaps a bit of delight. His own fingers move to his lapel, brushing the replaced insignia with his fingers. Brieanne watched Neil with an air of cruel delight. He continues this toying for a few moments. When he looks at Brieanne, he finally reaches the enlightenment his brother noble has long since figured out. Or perhaps the look on Brieanne's face is what finally provides it for him. "Arrogant and self confident? Perhaps, but we know what we have survived and what we are capable of..... And be very careful how you speak of Noys, as dear as William may be to me, she is like a sister, and I will take exception to any insult hurled her way. He makes a moue of distaste at the mention of her name but doesn't say anything else. She gave Neil a hard stare and rose from her seat, her hand on his arm pulling him up. "And on that note, I think we shall be on our way." He rises with Brieanne, as does Emmet. Once all three are standing, Neil suddenly moves to pull away his arm from her grasp, not quite realizing or expecting Brieanne's strength. Neil's strength is more than mortal, that Brieanne understands straightaway. But is he as strong as she is? Hardly. His arm is still trapped in hers. "Is this how this play unfolds, Princess?" he says. "You uncouthly haul me off now to join William and we travel through the night to the Manse?" He looks at her. "The spectacle of you dragging me out of here will be remarked upon." he says. "For I shall resist you." He plants his feet. As if reading her mind, or anticipating her possible response, Emmet moves to stand behind and to Brieanne's left. Brieanne gave a soft, genuine laugh that made the dagger like gleam in her eyes all the more dangerous. "You do still amuse me." She patted the arm she still claimed. To any who looked up and might witness, her body language was that of a girl Neil might describe as a simpering little ninny. "But you really have no idea what sort of spectacle I might cause. The panic! The screams! Oh and how I would laugh, free to dance into the night in the wake of the havoc I let loose. Really, little would please me more." She hung on his arm, gazing up at him. Neil stares at Brieanne with narrowed eyes. "But, I am playing nicely for the moment and being a big picture person instead of indulging all my little impulses. Really, you should feel honored, I don't do it for just anyone, and here you are with the next best seat in the house." She seemed amused by her own humor, giggling. "And since I am playing nicely, I'm going to ignore your little snit. This bit of defiance becomes you, but if I wished, I could squish your righteous mind like a grape into wine and cartwheel you out of here on strings of my own making. .....which leads me to all sorts of other entertaining possibilities..." She paused, musing over the images that popped into her head. "I could likely amuse a great many people with that... Is it what I should do?" She cooed, looking up at Neil, as if it were really all up to him and all in his control. "Should I turn you into a puppet of a man? Strip you of your faculties and play the master?" The malice returned as she leaned in closer. "I think you might actually like it... some of it..." There was wicked promise in her smile, as if she did suddenly want him to do anything but cooperate. "Choose carefully, and quickly, I'm not known for patience, even when I'm being nice." She rested her other hand on his arm as well, fingers tapping lightly one after the other as if counting the time until she made the decision for him. His eyes drift down at Brieanne's fingers, as if they were a ticking clock for his decision. A moment or two passes, and then he looks at Brieanne again. "If you are looking for me to grovel, beg or plead, you will get no such thing." Neil says. "No such thing. I am not my milksop brother noble to so gamely submit to your suzerainty. But if you are willing to cause chaos and ruin on your mere whims, I cannot stop you." "However, might I say." he keeps his voice as clear as he can but its a clear struggle. "and perhaps I might appeal to your sense of gamesmanship, milady Princess. Surely, to do as it is said the brood of Clarissa the witch do, and strip my mind of reason, to rule over it, would be less than satisfying for one such as you? You still do wish me to lead you and the Prince to the Manse, do you not?" "Gamesmanship?" Brieanne laughed, the shake of her head causing her curls to bounce and sway. "You mistake me for someone else entirely..." She chastised him with a warning smile. "You also think I can't do both." She gave no additional warning. Mentally striking out with the speed and precision of a viper, she sunk her fangs deep into the frontal lobe and the primal hind brain, temporarily freezing him in place to give herself a moment to refine her control. It really wouldn't do for him to have a seizure and cause any sort of scene she didn't desire. Neil does have defenses, of a limited source, and a mind greater than that of the average shadow being, as many who live in the Golden Circle or close to Amber do. As it turns out, though, compared to the ferocious ability that Brieanne has by comparison, those defenses, while up and running, prove to be no match for Brieanne in her mood. He manages to get out a half strangled cry, sounding for all the world like the grunt of a buck, before Brieanne's control is solid enough to shut off his vocal chords. And given where she has grabbed his mind, Neil's awareness and intelligence are completely intact and functional, to his terror, even as his body is helpless. Given the music and pagentry going on below, Neil's outburst apparently has gone completely unremarked save by her companion. She can leisurely refine her control,or do even more, as she likes. The fear rising off of him, both physically and mentally are unmistakable. Behind her, Emmet remains quiet, and attentive. "There, there, darling.... all the drinking with William seems to have caught up with you." She gave his arm another little pat as she lurched his body stiffly toward the door. "Emmet, be a dear and take his other arm, we wouldn't want him falling." "Yes, Princess." Emmet says, moving to grab his other arm. "It does seem that my brother noble has had a little too much of the gift of the grape." She continued moving Neil along, the movements more fluid as she got comfortable with her role as puppet master, but not too fluid as she kept up the ruse of his drinking having finally got the better of him. The Opera goes on, and its participants unconcerned with Brieanne, Emmet and Neil as they make their way out of the box and into the passages of the Opera. It does take Brieanne some time to get used to physically manipulating Neil, but practice does indeed make for perfect. By the time they are moving toward the descent to the ground levels, Brieanne's control is to the point that she can make him move drunkenly on purpose. "He's aware of all this, isn't he?" Emmet asks in a low voice. "You didn't rob him of his mind and reason, only shunted it aside?" "Indeed." Brieanne smiled at Emmet, pleased with his deduction. "I do know where the Manse is." he adds. "Even if my brother noble is more well known and recognized there." "Oh... I think Neil will cooperate most splendidly... one way, or another." The sly gaze that met Neil's had a cruel edge, watching him struggle with the experience as they made their way out of the Opera House and out to the carriages. Brieanne's control over Neil is extremely effective, but involuntary muscles, such as eye reactions are still there. Brieanne can see Neil struggle with being turned into an automation, the fear of the loss of control, of identity. And through the link she has established to control his motor skills, his fear at her cruelty, present and possibly future, are obvious. Brieanne, Neil and Emmet get out of the Opera without real issue. The Opera is apparently popular enough so that there aren't many other nobles taking a very early exit, and a couple of staff members do veer in their direction. One look from Emmet is enough to dissuade would-be helpers from coming closer. Brieanne can tell, as well, this distresses Neil, his hopes for his plight to be recognized coming clear through the bond. Exiting the Opera House, Brieanne sees the familiar carriage is maneuvering out to come up to a stop at the parking station from its position amongst the other parked carriages. "An attentive driver is a blessing, would you not agree, Princess?" Emmet says. "I'm sure my brother noble here appreciates the prompt appearance of our carriage rather than suffering the shame of making a possible scene here outside with his drunkenness while waiting." Backlinks |
