TheCaerdroiaOperationSB: Kieran: The Caerdroia OperationKieran shakes Martin's hand. "Haven't met my uncle yet;" Kieran says. "Contrary to what some people believe, Lorius cannot hear every slight thrown his way." Fiona says briskly. "Small favors." Brandeigh smirks. "I think my brother would have contemplated Sororicide if he did." Not sure what to make of that, Kieran activates his HTD and calls up the trump of one his people left behind in the embassy in Caerdroia. Kieran looks at his family each in turn and says; "Gotta go." He focuses on the holo image, willing contact. "It's Kieran;" he says once contact has been made. "Extend your hand and bring me through." The agent does so, and Kieran disappears from the room in the telltale rainbow of a trump. He lands in one of the sitting rooms of the Scotan Embassy in Caerdroia. “That...didn’t look like Caerdroia” the agent says. “If I am not mistaken, you were back on Scota?” He pauses a moment. “Have our orders changed?” "It wasn't, you weren't, that was, and no, our orders are unchanged except our timeframe has been shortened;" Kieran says. "Anything to report here? Any more word from the safehouse?" "There is" Martel says. "Got a note from them about a half hour ago. Turns out that there is sudden interest in the area around the safehouse. More patrols than usual, even with this heightened area of security. They are certain the safehouse is still, since they've spotted the increase in patrols in the entirety of the Highfolds." "Someone is suspicious, but with very incomplete information." Martel says. "You said our timetable is accelerated, sir?" "Yes;" Kieran says. "The Erinnachen don't seem to like us Scotans much of late. Think we may have been compromised somehow during the last invasion attempt. I'm thinking it was the other way around." "Yes sir" Martel replies. He sighs and shrugs his shoulders. "I'll check in on the lads at the safehouse in a moment." Kieran looks at Martel and then nods his head. "We have another mission coming up very soon. One that will take us far from Keltia. So we, *I*, need to resolve this situation as quickly as possible." "We, sir?" Martel says after a moment. He pauses and then adds. "Yes sir. The lads and I will endeavor to complete the mission as quickly as we can. May I ask where we will be bound? And how many of us are you taking with you?" "This arms deal I'm working on the side, the reason for our people being at the safehouse;" Kieran says. "Turned out to be rather fortuitous as we may well have a need for as many as we can acquire." Martel nods. "As to where we're bound;" Kieran shrugs. "Not entirely sure beyond the fact that we will traveling far outside the borders of Keltia. And may not make it back this way for some time." "We would follow you to Annwn if we must." Martel says. "I would, any road." "I am looking for about a half dozen volunteers here, and there's about that many number I'll enlist on the way." He looks closely at Martel. "I need people who have the potential for psionics, if they haven't already been trained in it. I'll be training those who come with me and, then once we get to where we're going, we'll be in the business of recruiting and training underground fighters. Among other things. Not unlike what my mother did back during the war." "Spread the word among our people here, I think those here with me now, would serve well. If you should choose to remain behind, there will be no dishonor in that. Scota will still need people to serve her as well." "Yes sir." Martel says. "I will spread the word. I will not be the only one who would flock to the banner of the House of Scota in her need." Martel pauses a beat and then adds. "You said we go to recruit and train underground fighters. Do we go then to help a people under the heel of someone like." He pauses. "Someone like." he pauses again. "Someone like *Him*?" Martel finally spits out. Kieran shrugs his shoulders. "To that, I simply don't know at this time;" he says. "I have little intel on how our future enemies are organized. I know that they have conquered many realms; but as to their leadership..." His voice trails off. "There are those I can, and will, ask for detailed intel when we are ready to move on from here." Martel gives a nod. Kieran regards Martel for a long moment. "The core group I'm looking for will become my personal retainers Martel. I can not say when, or if, we will return to Scota, but I can promise you the opportunity to see places and things, and to meet beings far beyond your imagination. I have room for many more aboard my ship, so we may well bring more than us along. I will arrange it with my parents so that those who wish to return to Scota can do so with them." "You are looking for men, and women, who can leave their families, or do not have any to keep them thinking of home." Martel says after a brief pause. He taps his teeth with his left index finger. He then stops the gesture abruptly and snaps his head to attention. "If you are journeying to realms beyond imagining. To fight enemies who have conquered many realms, and are in need of their people being released from bondage, sir, then you need retainers, agents, people who know what that is like. Who know what it is to lose people to such tyranny. To know what it is to fight such tyranny. My honor as a Kelt would not permit me to do anything less." "I need all that and people who can keep a cool head and a sharp eye, no matter how hot the situation;" Kieran says. "Can you do that?" "Yes Sir" Martel replies. Confidently but not cocky. "I can." . Kieran holds out his right hand. "Then let me welcome you aboard. Formal investitures can wait till the core group is assembled I think. Now, who among those with us here, do you think will wish to serve me in the greater campaign?" Martel shakes Kieran hand. "My first duty" he nods. "Ormond, right off." Martel says. "He has a good head on his shoulders. "Not Bothwell, although he is certainly loyal enough. He's a new Dad, and was just expecting a short stint on the Throneworld, not a interdimensional expedition. Nessa has some of the best training with blades and pointy things you will find. Good for quiet work. Thomas, Caer and Eion, too would be your best bests for recruitment, sir." Thomas, as Kieran recalls, is running the Lennoxliss house and told him about the stakeout on them. Kieran nods his head. "Then I'll ask those five in the morning;" he says. "If Bothwell serves well here, I'll put in a word to get him a posting to where ever he and his family would like to be." "Yes Sir" Martel says. Kieran extends his senses out (Third Eye and Ear) once more to check things out in his suite and it's immediate surroundings. Outside of the suite, the business of the Scotan Embassy, such as it is in the evening, goes on unabated. A few conversations, like whispers, draw Kieran's senses, but the only interesting things being a conversation over the tangled love life of Elspeth Kouevr , and the outward grumblings of Timaeus Traynor ,a minor diplomat, over his endless and banal paperwork suggest that all is well and quiet for the moment. "Is there anything else then, Martel?" he asks. "No sir." Martel says. "Things proceed, and as you say, will accelerate our timetable. Our next destination is Court tomorrow?" "After an interview with our Ambassador here;" Kieran nods his head. "I'm pretty sure he's not been turned, but I still need to check." He grins mirthlessly. "But then Court aye, and time to stir things up a bit I think." "I am not sure the Ambassador is awake at this relatively late hour." Martel says wryly. "However I am certain the heir to the Mistress of Scots will fit into his schedule without any trouble first thing in the morning. Shall I arrange it now?" Martel asks. "As far as being turned, sir." Martel continues. "I, nor any of the other people here have had any intimations of that, as far as any of us have seen as yet." Kieran nods his head. "First thing in the morning will be fine;" Kieran says with a nod of his head. "Like I said, I don't think he's been turned, but I have to check. He can complain to the Mistress of Scots afterwards, for all the good it will do him, if he detects what I'm doing, afterwards. Then, I'll need him to brief me on the High Court; who's in favor and who's not, who's running the show, etc. And why Scotans are no longer trusted." Kieran's tone and expressions give the impression that he has a mission; one that may well cause him to step (stomp) on a few toes to get things cleared up. Martel nods his head with a few short bobbing motions. "The usual work of weeks or months of ingratiation and infiltration, accelerated. "The Ambassador may know if there are people of Scotan extraction at the Court who may provide information." Martel suggests. "Servants, guards, very minor nobility. They may have a first hand view of the Anti-Scotan prejudice and lack of trust, sir." Martel says. "And they might have a clue as to what really is going on." He turns to make a motion toward the door. "Is there anything else, sir?" Kieran shakes his head. "No, I'm for bed. Wake me if anything out of the ordinary happens." "Yes sir." Martel says, and departs. When Kieran does find sleep, his dreams are the usual fantasia of locales and adventures, nothing out of the ordinary. This goes on until his perceptions, psyche, and perhaps a bleed over of his mind magic ability allows him just enough lucidity to realize that there is a background figure, a background element in each and every dream: The Baroness She never interacts, never says a word, and in some cases doesn't even seem to be particularly real. And none of the dreams are *about* her. But like a succession of walk-on parts, she is there. Some of the puzzle pieces rotate and move about the board, Kieran thinks, perhaps resolving some of the picture, perhaps not. Kieran rises, quickly dresses and secures his weapons on his person. Sitting back on his bed, he drops into a meditative state and then sends out his senses (Third Eye & Ear) up, up, up in order to get a look at Caerdroia first. He's looking evidence of psychic trails or leashes leading from those who've been suborned and those working for the person or persons behind this all. He's trying get a look at the big picture as it were, and will scale things up as necessary up to viewing the whole of the realm of Keltia. The psychic trails, if there, should lead him back to the responsible party. The psychic trails are well disguised, well hidden from casual inspection or even not so casual inspection. Kieran starts to get a bit of a headache pushing his senses to find the connection, the trail he knows HAS to be there. And then, finally, he sees them. Very well disguised links, but links nevertheless Their mutual end point are is somewhere outside of Keltia, perhaps all the way to the Empire, certainly outside of the shadow itself. As far as where they are attached in Keltia, on Caerdroia itself, the three strongest links resolve to his probing. Two of them are in the Royal Palace, each attached to members of House Aiobhell. And the third is attached to the Scotan Ambassador making his toilet on the other side of the Embassy. Kieran fixes the locations/paths of the psychic trails in his mind, so that he can return to them as needed. Are the three links connected to each other or independent? The three links are distinctly different and even have slightly different resonances and appearances, as if the Baroness used slightly different techniques in each case. The one on the Ambassador has a far more personal touch, for lack of a better word. One of the two Aiobhells has a psychic odor of greed, the other something along the lines of fear or blackmail. Putting aside the physical actions of the Ambassador, Kieran settles down to study the link in detail. Defenses prepped to snap up at a moment's thought, Kieran spins out a filament or tendril of himself and concentrates on making it appear as neutral and nonthreatening as possible. He then slowly extends out towards the Ambassador's link seeking a spot to weave his thread into the warp and weave of the link, without setting off alarms and traps of course. Spinning out his own filament toward the link is relatively straightforward. This does not mean it is easy, quite the contrary. The psychic link is well defended, wrapped in tendrils of defenses that together form a braid of defense that requires a lot of attention and study to find a gap in. Such gaps must exist, for nothing is perfect, and Kieran does find a spot where he can insinuate himself that appears to be legitimate, having already discarded two possibilities that look *too* groomed and manufactured, obvious honey traps. What are Kieran's goals and desired outcomes for such a weave and weft of his own tendril into the link? Kieran intends on studying the link in order to determine who is on the other end. He suspects the Baroness, but until confirmed.. Also, he wants to study the nature of the link, what the weaver is doing with it, where does it terminate (in Keltia or beyond), ways to set the Ambassador loose from it while keeping him alive (if possible), ways of turning the link back on the weaver. That sort of thing. :) The origin of the link trails back, out of Keltia and into greater shadow. Its difficult to tell from this end, without shadow travel, to narrow it down further than that. It's well constructed enough to make determining that without giving the entire game away. A resonance could be set up to trace it back completely and accurately , but that would definitely alert whoever is on the far end of the intrusion. Kieran fixes the point the link (and presumably the other two as well) transition out of Keltia in his memory for possible later use. Loosening the Ambassador looks easy...too easy. There are definite "hooks" that have the psychic link fairly well embedded into him on this end that would have to be removed if alerting the far end of the link is not desired. These hooks and the link itself does not appear to be control, but rather observation and data collection. Letting the user of the far link to see through his eyes, hear through his ears. There appears to be no compulsion or active direction engaged in these at all, and Kieran is very sure he'd see that. The placement of the hooks are all in the senses, rather than higher brain functions. Kieran takes his time, studying the link and the hooks as he suspects the other two links are going to have a similar setup. What Kieran would like to do is this: loosen the hooks without removing them for the moment, imbed a set of false memories (say of a shadowy assassin drawing a pistol and shooting the Ambassador between the eyes, and the Ambassador's subsequent death), then work on restructuring the Ambassador's mental shields to hopefully resist further link attempts, and have then set a command phrase or geas in the Ambassador to have all this kick off when Kieran wants it to. Kieran doesn't want this to go off yet, not until he's had a chance to track down and work on the other two links. His hope is that whoever set the link will 'see' the false memories as the Ambassador's last moments and not try to reestablish a link in the future. It's a plan that can potentially work. For Kieran to do it, he'd have to work on the sensory neurons, since its their input that the link keys on. The Ambassador has to "see" the event, or the link has to believe that the Ambassador does or did. The hooks wouldn't trigger on just a buried memory. As far as that and all of this rearrangement of hooks and shields and memory implanting, Kieran can do it remotely, he's certainly good enough. However, it would be a slow and tedious process, a matter of hours of work. This process would go faster if he could meet the Ambassador in person and get eye contact, and it would be even better if prolonged skin contact was achievable. How long would it take if they were in direct contact? And has Kieran detected any sort of geas or 'programming' in the Ambassador should the two of them find themselves alone or direct contact? Eye contact would be a matter of three quarters of an hour to get it all done. Establish a neural connection through vision and hold the gaze through a conversation. Skin contact, if Kieran was prepped and ready to go, would take a few minutes. Both of these assume Kieran has his work mapped out and prepped in advance, otherwise it would take significantly longer. Kieran preps the steps in his mind, including the false memories, locking them away in portions of his mind until needed. Kieran sets about getting ready for the day while continuing to work on and refine his plans for the Ambassador. When Martel enters the rooms, Kieran asks him to go ahead and request a meeting with the Ambassador at his earliest convenience. Martel does come in, bright and early. He is able to, with some going back and forth between the secretary and Kieran, that the Ambassador would be happy to have a longer meeting in three hours, or a shorter meeting over breakfast, in short order. At the preference of the son of the Mistress of Scots, of course. Kieran prefers breakfast of course. He then preps a second set of false memories to cover what the Ambassador will 'recall' of the beginning of their breakfast. In short order, after Kieran gets the memories ready, he finds himself entering the private eating room of the Ambassador. The grey haired Ambassador Glenross shows his age and his origins, in the bit of girth he has gotten since his years with the Counterinsurgency, and simultaneously the somewhat martial bearing he still possesses, as well as the diagonal scar across his right cheek. A wound, incurred fighting Archdruid loyalists on Caerdroia itself. "I admit, milord." Ambassador Glenross says. "That I am a bit mystified by the sudden change in timetable. Your message last night suggested a later morning meeting today would be sufficient, and then your man Martel seemed insistent on a meeting sooner than expected." "Things are moving faster than I'd first anticipated, milord;" Kieran replies. He gestures toward the table, already laden with a variety of breakfast foods ranging from a bowl of porridge to rashers of bacon, black pudding, more standard sausage, and plenty of soda bread. As they turn towards the table, Kieran says; "Tell me of Caerdroia, milord;" and claps him on the shoulder. Let mental combat begin. Kieran pushes hard to get the upper hand and prevent Glennross from raising any alarms. He will push as hard as he needs to achieve mental dominance, but he doesn't want to permanently damage Glennross' mind, so Kieran will not be totally ruthless about his attacks. The Ambassador is surprised, greatly, by the unexpected and sudden assault. But he does have mental defenses and training (even if he has been suborned by the Baroness) and he uses them. It's a defensive strategy, playing a very closed game, trying to keep Kieran out of his mind. Kieran has to work harder than the guard back on Scota, but the outcome is really not so much as in doubt but rather a question of whether the Ambassador can hold him off long enough to raise alarm, one way or another. The choice comes down to a simple one as the moments pass. Is Kieran willing to risk real but temporary damage to the Ambassador's mind in order to ensure that no alarm goes out, or warning sent to the Baroness? He'll risk damaging the Ambasador's mind, rather than letting warning get out to the Baroness. Kieran's efforts, in the end, turn out better than he might have feared. He suspects after the fact that Fiona would have been perfect, but at least the damage that Kieran has caused will be not serious, and it will heal in time. Short term memory loss, perhaps a bit of temporary partial blindness, maybe a bit of deafness. Even with that in mind, however, the positive is that Kieran gets control of the Ambassador's mind, and no warning whatsoever gets out to the Baroness. He's in full control and can proceed as he likes. Kieran has Glennross walk over to the breakfast table and sit down in one of the chairs, maintaining contact at all times. Then he begins to work on his plan; loosening/removing the mental hooks, building the false memories of the Ambassador's assassination, implanting the geas/command to set everything off when Kieran is ready for it to happen, etc. Over the breakfast table, if not precisely over breakfast, Kieran can proceed apace. It would take a careful and sustained observer to note that Kieran and Ambassador Glenross are not touching their food or even talking, but the scene certainly looks domestic enough. In about the full time a working breakfast with the Ambassador would normally cover, perhaps a half hour in total, the memories are implanted in the sensory neurons, the mental hooks are loosened, the shield rebuilt and strengthened, and the geas is primed and made ready. Only the rumbling of the Ambassador's stomach, an involuntary reaction by the smell of food, is the only thing that winds up disturbing the proceedings. The Ambassador DOES set a good table, after all. Kieran figures he has a very few minutes to spare before underlings will definitely come knocking and try to get the Ambassador into the rest of the rhythm of his schedule and day. A gentle mental nudge from Kieran sets the Ambassador to eating his breakfast, and to ignore the fact that the food may no longer be at its optimal temperature. A suggestion that more coffee and perhaps a second course would be welcome is also planted for when the staff comes knocking. Kieran sits down to eat his own meal at that point; while simultaneously guiding Glennross into a conversation about the current politics of the Court (which the Ambassador will come to recall as having taken up the majority of the breakfast); and pouring over the information obtained from Glennross' mind. Kieran does get a run down, even in that short time, of a number of factions at Court. Typically, the factions break down to Throneworld versus Non-throneworld, but with the recent flowering of the Aiobhells, factions and politics are starting to reform and rejigger along those supporting or in contrast to that House. Its making for all sorts of reshufflings of Court politics, and the interest and delight he has in this is obvious. It is during this partly potemkin conversation about the current politics of the court that the press of underlings finally overwhelms the quiet space that Ambassador Glenross had carved out for talking with Kieran. "My pardons, milord." the functionary says to Kieran. He looks to the Ambassador. "I'm sorry, sir, but your meeting with the shipping magnate Cylus Brandenbell is due to occur in a few minutes. He is awaiting you in the anteroom to your office." From what Kieran had been able to glean, its a perfectly ordinary meeting, without any suspicious overtones or connotations. It simply seems that the schedule of the Ambassador has run up against Kieran's brief monopolization of his time, and other monopolizations. Kieran smiles briefly, giving the Ambassador a knowing look about having one's time scheduled out to the last minute. He puts his napkin on the table and stands up from his chair. "I thank you for seeing me this morning, milord, on such short notice;" Kieran says. "Shall I see you at Court then later on?" "I will be there in the afternoon session to be certain." The Ambassador says, extending his hand. "There are days I believe that it is a struggle and effort to get out of this building altogether. Until then, Kieran." After shaking Kieran's hand, he adds. "Oh, If you have any questions that cannot wait until then while I am there, I have a factotum whose entire job is to spend every minute while court is in session and many others at the Palace. Lady Wells is a skilled observer of people and etiquette, and if it wasn't so necessary to show up at Court, I'd cede that part of the job entirely to her." From Kieran's rifling of the Ambassador's mind, he considers her a protege, and possibly a replacement. Maybe even ambitious enough to try to actively displace him from the job, at least from his point of view. "I believe I will check in with Lady Wells;" Kieran says. "Until later then, milord." And with that, Kieran is off and out the door. Once outside the Ambassador's office, he will inquire as to where he might find Lady Wells this morning. A functionary is happy not only to tell Kieran she is preparing to departure for the Palace, but to take Kieran directly to the sitting room where she awaits her carriage. Lady Martha Imogen Wells is a short strawberry-blond haired woman a couple of decades younger than the Ambassador. She's dressed in a prim and proper dress perhaps a half inch longer than decorum might suggest at minimum. "Milord" she says, curtseying primly, and letting her brown eyes meet Kieran's . "I was just about to departure for the Palace as part of my regular duties. My sources tell me that you are here to represent the Mistress of Scots interests in a direct fashion there." Kieran smiles and waves a hand at her curtsey. "Please, we're not in Court; be at ease." He nods his head; "I am her son and here on a mission from her." "Very well, then." she amends. She pauses a beat. "Will you join me on the journey?" Kieran moves closer to the carriage and offers Lady Wells a hand. "Why not? It will give us a chance to talk about the Court." Kieran looks at her; is she one of the other two people affected like the Ambassador? She is, definitely, not one of the two people bound and tied. She has mental shields of the same sort of type that the Ambassador has, a little stronger in fact to a casual and non-probing inspection. "The Court's like a cell." Martha says, once both are in the carriage and on the way toward the palace. "All sorts of moving parts, sometimes in competition for resources, all working in the end toward the tune of the nucleus of our monarchs. The question I have for you, milord is, what organelle of the cell has brought you to the Palace. She pauses. "My Mother teaches biology. The terminology stays in my brain." "The Mistress of Scots;" Kieran begins by getting straight to the point. "Is not happy with the way the her realm and people are being treated by the rest of the Kelts in general, and the Erinnachen and the Aoibhells in particular. Especially since we Scotans are the ones that fended off the last invasion attempt by the Coranians. She has sent me to investigate and resolve the situation. So, if would please, tell me what is going on with the Throne and the Aoibhells." Martha swallows and nods. "Yes" she says, just pulling back the customary and ingrained honorific. Kieran smiles. "My analysis is that the Aiobhells have used the attempted invasion as a lever with which to move the Court, the Throne and Keltia." Martha says. "I hear the whispers, the innuendos, and the outright expressed fears coming from their direction. Against Scotans like ourselves. Against others, too. You have no doubt seen the increase in...soldiers and agents here on the Throneworld. And elsewhere, I am told." "Aye;" Kieran says grimly. "They have stationed soldiers in Kinloch Arnoch, and that should not be. The Aiobhells are building a base on the far side of Ruchdi and that should not be;" he says. "With their Throne so very new, and the scars of the Archdruid's reign so fresh, the King and Queen listen to the Aiobhells because they fear threats to Keltia from within and without. They do not wish a return to the dark times." "I may be wrong, Kieran." she says. "But I believe the Aiobhells are thus looking to make themselves the dominant family in Keltia, the Coranian invasion being their opportunity to do so." "That was my thought as well;" he says. "And if I may be engaged in further speculating, my lord." she continues. "I think the Aiobhells fear that your mother the Mistress of Scots might one day bid for the throne herself." "High King Arawn;" Kieran says firmly. "Has nothing to fear from my family. My mother was one his parents, Arthur and Gwenniver, staunchest and most loyal companions. And the House of Douglas is loyal to High King Arawn. That he should know, but perhaps he has forgotten, or been made to forget." Kieran pauses, his gaze thoughtful. "Who are his chief advisors and counselors these days? Especially the Erinnachen ones?" "If you will permit me a small correct, milord" Martha says. "I think it is a fear that the House of Douglas will succeed to the throne, rather than usurp the throne. All of Keltia has had enough of usurpers to last ten generations." Kieran represses a snort. To himself, he thinks; *If mother wanted the throne of the Ard-Righ, she'd be sitting on it already.* "But to answer your question, the Ard-Righ has a quartet of close-won advisors in these days. Three of them are from Erinna, as you might expect, two of those are Aiobells, Morric and Niall. The other Erinnachen is Sorcha Darnaway of Caerlaverock. The Darnaways have always been loyal allies to the banner of the Aiobells, especially during the reign of the Black Druid. The last is Slaine Cameron of Vannin." Kieran considers this for a moment. "Why do they fear that the House of Douglas will succeed to the throne? We are of the Righ-Domhna true, but we have made no moves, alliances, or marriages to bring us closer to High Kingship." "If I may speak freely, milord." Martha says. She waits for Kieran's assent before continuing. Kieran nods again. "Always Martha;" he adds. She swallows and nods. "I think it is the believed nature of the husband of the Mistress of Scots that strikes fear into their hearts. It is said that he is really of the same Danoine Sidhe as it is said that the mother of the Mistress of Scots is, and that for her to take the throne and rule it, with her husband, and, ah, you, would be a throne never to be relinquished in many mortal lifetimes."
"You approach the age where you might take the throne of Scota yourself." Martha continues. "Which you might hold for your Mother and Father were they to bid for and gain the throne of the Ard-Righ." Kieran does some quick math in his head. Brandeigh should be around 120-125 or so years old here, with the average lifespan being 160-175 with individuals known to have exceeded 200 with full command of themselves both physically and mentally. Given the rumors about Kieran's maternal grandmother, one could expect his mother, and by extension himself, living much longer true enough. Kieran, being 40, is fully old enough to marry without consent (though that would raise a stink him being royalty and all) and take the throne of Scota, or indeed the High-King's throne without a regent. "People do realize that I am Kin to the Dragon and all that entails, loyalty to the Crown, correct?" Kieran asks after a moment. The germ of a plan begins to take root in the back of his mind, his parents may not like it though. "How long have these rumors been circulating?" he asks. "Your loyalty to the Crown in that regard is not the issue, Kieran." Martha says. "That is the thing. What the Aiobhells have been stoking is the fear that House Douglas will be the next House to hold the throne, not that it seeks to supplant the current owner of the Throne of Scone." "They accuse House Douglas of what House Aiobhell itself seeks to do. And many listen." Kieran grunts at that. "If I had to make a guess, the rumors have slowly been building since Brandeigh Douglas became the Mistress of Scots and married your father." Martha continues. "Slowly, quietly, a case that has been built over time, until such questions became natural. And more importantly, so subtly so as not to draw undue notice of your Mother, Father or yourself. It has been the last several years, since you turned 33, that the questions have become more and more visible." "I'd like to disagree with your logic, Martha;" Kieran says after a moment. "But I can't." That he's unhappy about this is plainly evident. "Have these rumors and questions had a marked upturn in their frequency of late by any chance?" he asks in a civil tone. "Well, yes." Martha says. "Especially as the news of the abortive invasion has spread. As contradictory and confused as the logic to it may be, there are those who say that the Scotans aren't colluding with alien forces, but rather seeking to gain status and prominence by their defeat of them."
"But this has been a long time in coming, milord. And perhaps we might have to still our tongues now." she adds. The carriage has reached the outskirts of the grounds of the palace, approaching one of the entrances, guards smartly (and again in greater numbers than expected) on the watch. A carriage ahead of Kieran's is stopped at the gate, one of the guards leaning in and talking to an unseen passenger. Kieran grunts again. "This should be interesting;" he says under his breath while waiting their carriage's turn. The guards finally withdraw from the carriage, allowing the carriage ahead to proceed onto the grounds, and perforce, allowing the carriage with Kieran and Lady Wells to move ahead. The guards, at the ready, stop the carriage in the same spot as the last one and motion for a window or a door to be opened. "Good morning." Martha says cheerfully. "I am Lady Martha Imogen Wells. You know me, of course, as the representative and surrogate of the Scotan Ambassador. I am going to attend Court as per my usual schedule." "Who is this?" the guard says abruptly before she or Kieran can even speak. Martha turns her head toward Kieran, a slight smile of amusement on her face, turned away from the guard. Kieran returns Martha's look. A quick, faint matching smile appears on his face for her benefit alone. Kieran looks at the guard slowly, his eyes taking in all details of the guard's uniform, facial expressions and body language, etc. The guard appears to be native to the Throneworld based on appearance, skin tone, accent, and uniform. Definitely younger than Kieran. Maybe just old enough to be a royal guard, which would be 33. "I am Kieran Elharn Kerrigan Percival Barimen Webster Douglas; Fianna, Druid, Bard and Dragon Kin; Prince and Heir to the Throne of Scota; and a member of the Righ-domhna;" he says clearly and firmly. "Who are you?"
The guard listens to the recitation of titles. The realization of who and what he is dealing with takes a few moments to fully register on his face. He swallows thickly. "My name is Alistair Roger Leicht Stevenson, guard officer of the day and this watch." he says. "I was, ah, not apprised by the Scotan Embassy that you would be gracing us with your presence today." There is no accusatory tone in his words, although a eye does regard Lady Wells briefly as he says this. He pauses another beat. "Forgive me any perceived brusqueness or rudeness." Kieran slowly nods his head after a long moment of silence. "That is because the Scotan Embassy was given no instructions to announce my presence." Kieran says coolly. The guard gives a nod but does not dare to interrupt Kieran. "The Mistress of Scots has charged me with seeking an audience with the Ard-Righ. I should like an audience with the Ard-Righ at his earliest convienence;" he says while fixing his gaze on the hapless guard officer. The guard officer considers Kieran for a long moment, trying to return the fixed gaze. He does not manage to stare down Kieran, breaking his gaze as he turns to one of the other guards. "Nigel" he says. "See that the Heir to Scota is shown to a suitable place where he might await word from me regarding his Majesty's availability." He then looks at another guard. "Bradley. You will be the head of the gate until I return." Stevenson boards a gyroscopically balanced scooter and whisks himself away from Kieran and the front gate as quickly as decorum allows. Kieran maintains a neutral expression as the guard officer beats a hasty retreat. "Um, if the carriage would be so good as to follow me to the south wing of the Palace?" Nigel says awkwardly, moving to board a scooter of his own. Kieran turns to Martha. "Did your ladyship wish to depart here or the south wing?" he asks, ignoring Nigel for the moment. If Martha indicates she wants to get out here, Kieran steps out of the carriage and then extends a hand to assist her down. If she wishes to stay with Kieran, he waves Nigel on. "I do have business and people to call on before Court." Martha says. "If you do not mind, I will arrange transport to the main Halls instead. Presumably, milord, I will see you again soon." Kieran nods. "Count on it." To Martha, he says; "To borrow from an old saying; 'Mess with the lion, you get bit'." Martha allows Kieran to aid her in disembarking from the carriage. "Indeed." she says. With Martha out of the carriage, Nigel's escort through the grounds is not quite at a march, but the scooter in question clearly is capable of faster speed than the horse drawn carriage. Still, even given the leisurely pace, it is not too long before the winding road, after one fork, turns and ends at the South Entrance to the Palace. On the way, Kieran brings up Faithful Mind and preps a Helm spell, just in case. Awaiting the arrival of Kieran and his carriage here is a full troop of guards, several servants in the livery of the Ard-Righ, for the most part looking smartly. The pale look and heavy breathing on one or two of the guards suggests that the assemblage was made in haste. Kieran observes the guard on the approach, wondering if they're truly an honor guard, or a force meant to keep him from seeing the Ard-Righ. He sends his Third Eye & Ear out and up to take a look around the courtyard or entrance area for snipers or anyone taking a keen interest in observing his approach. From what Kieran can tell on the level of the guards, the honor guard is genuine. Their minds and to all appearances are concerned with making a good impression, rather than outright subterfuge. If there is something on those lines, its being conducted at a level and by a party not present. A bagpiper starts wailing the Clan song of the House of Douglas as the carriage approaches. Kieran smiles softly, wondering if the piper's gotten much practice with that tune of late. He waits for the carriage to stop and looks around to see if there is anyone to meet and/or announce him before exiting the carriage. All that pomp and circumstance stuff, don't you know.... By the time the carriage stops, there is someone to meet him, a dark haired man with much of the same complexion as Kieran himself. He doesn't look strictly Scotan, but there is likely Scotan ancestry in his background, judging from appearances. Kieran does a quick scan of the man. Is he one of the other two people controlled like the Ambassador? No, his mind appears to be clean. A footman opens the carriage door as the piper lets his tune die off. It might not be Kieran's imagination that he does so gratefully. It wasn't after all the most practiced rendition Kieran has heard. Kieran successfully suppresses a wince and a relieved sigh as the piper finishes. Does the piper wear a Bard badge of any sort? Yes, he does, but the badge of an apprentice rank in the Order of Bards, with no adornments or honors whatsoever. One of the guards impressed into herald duty, a bit haltingly, calls out in a loud voice. "On behalf of his Majesty the Ard-Righ, Lord Ciaran Byrne, Duke and Master of Caerlyr and trusted member of his Majesty's Privy council welcomes Kieran Elharn Kerrigan Percival Barimen Webster Douglas the rightful Prince and Heir to the Throne of Scota" The piper blasts a single note, this time on key. The name is familiar to Kieran, although he has not met the man before. Caerlyr is a relatively isolated dominion on the Throneworld, and while Byrne might be a member of the Privy Council, he is not an Aiobhell, and he is not a high member of that Council. He did do good work in the Counterinsurgency, though, from all accounts, his isolated domain a continual thorn in the Archdruid's foot. Kieran exits the coach and approaches Lord Byrne. "Milord Prince of Scota" Lord Byrne says, executing a bow. "It is a most unexpected pleasure to have you join us here on Caerdroia. It could be scarcely more unexpected or surprising if your lady Mother the Mistress of Scouts had come. How is she, by the way?" Kieran represses a snort. "My mother is well and continues to acquit her duties to Scota and Keltia with honor as always;" he says. "Have you met her before then, your Grace?" "I've only had the honor of the once." Lord Byrne says. "When she presented her choice of husband to the Ard-Righ." "I should like to hear that tale sometime, your Grace;" Kieran replies. The body language and the hand sign Byrne makes is interesting, too. He clearly was or is a member of the Fianna. For how else but can and does Kieran read the placement of the hand signs his fingers make as "Talk in Private" Off on the side, standing next to his scooter, Nigel watches the scene placidly. Kieran makes a small show of brushing something off his doublet with one hand as a distraction or attention focuser while signaling Byrne 'Agreed' and 'Your lead' with the other. "It would be an honor and a privilege to escort you to quarters prior to your meeting with his Majesty" Byrne says. "If you would follow me?" He then looks at the assembly party. "You are dismissed. The Prince of Scots is my responsibility." "If you would come with me, milord Prince of Scots?" Byrne says to Kieran " I believe his Majesty has already been informed of your arrival." Kieran bows slightly. "I'm at your service, milord Duke;" Kieran replies. "How was his Majesty this morning? Well, I trust?" Kieran asks in outwardly pleasant tone as they head off. Needless to say, Kieran's defenses are still up and he's surreptitiously scanning for assailants and ambushes. "Well enough." Lord Byrne says. "The health of his majesty is good, and the throne of Caerdroia is strong..." Kieran's defenses and heightened state of awareness give him a map of the people around him, in sight and without, as the Duke leads Kieran into the south entrance of the Palace. An entry hall, a couple of receiving rooms and drawing rooms later, the Duke halts his progress. He speaks to one of the servants who have been trailing Kieran and the Duke uncertainly. "See to it that the refreshments ordered are brought here." He pauses a beat. "Now." The servants scurry away, giving Kieran and the noble at least some privacy. Kieran's senses tell him that there are a couple of guards on various doors, but no one within hearing range. "Now" Lord Byrne says, keeping his voice low. "Now we can talk in some measure of security for a few moments." "Aye; that we can;" Kieran replies. "Before I guess at which problem brings you here suddenly, milord Prince, perhaps I should ask you directly, and then I will tell you of what I know." he says. "There are several problems;" Kieran begins. "But why don't you tell me what you know and what you perceive the problems to be first and I will decide what to say or not say in these halls." Kieran doesn't trust Byrne even though he may have known his mother. So he's playing it by ear and trying to get a better feel or read on Byrne. Byrne considers Kieran for a moment. "Very well" he says, biting his lip briefly. However, he continues without hesitation, looking directly at Kieran as he speaks. "I suspect the major problem that your unannounced arrival may be here to address is the anti-Scotan bent that the Throne and the Keltic body politic has taken as of late, only inflamed and fanned by the recent attack on Scota." His eyes now study Kieran carefully, watching his reactions to see if his words have hit home. Kieran nods his head. "That would be a good supposition;" he says. "Now add royal troops in Kinloch Arnoch and a base on the far side of Ruchdi, by the Aoibhells, and their maneuverings here and you have the list of things I will see resolved, milord Duke." "You have done very good work, milord Prince" Byrne replies. "Your deductions and information sources are excellent and accurate. House Aiobhell has decided to forestall the two strongest possible future claimants for the Righ-domhna, especially given the rumors about longevity. You and your mother." Kieran snorts and shakes his head. "I am not going to ask you to confirm or deny it, milord Prince, but you do see the problem don't you?" he says. "If you do have Sidhe blood and longevity, in time, you or the Mistress of Scots will have a chance at the Throne. And then there may be no other chances for any other save by accident or death, and perhaps not even then." Kieran nods his head. "That would be a good supposition;" he says. "Now add royal troops in Kinloch Arnoch and a base on the far side of Ruchdi, by the Aoibhells, and their maneuverings here and you have the list of things I will see resolved, milord Duke." "You have done very good work, milord Prince" Byrne replies. "Your deductions and information sources are excellent and accurate. House Aiobhell has decided to forestall the two strongest possible future claimants for the Righ-domhna, especially given the rumors about longevity. You and your mother." Kieran snorts and shakes his head. "I am not going to ask you to confirm or deny it, milord Prince, but you do see the problem don't you?" he says. "If you do have Sidhe blood and longevity, in time, you or the Mistress of Scots will have a chance at the Throne. And then there may be no other chances for any other save by accident or death, and perhaps not even then." Kieran nods his head. "The Aiobhells flame such fears and move to limit Scotan power, influence and reduce the chances of such an event. Naturally, I would be lying if this did not have the side effect of increasing their presence and strength that way." he finishes. "I wonder if they've considered the possibility that their actions to prevent the 'rise of the House of Douglas' as they fear;" Kieran says cooly; "may bring about the very thing they seek to stop." "That would be a hard geas, to be fated to create something you fought to escape or stop by any means necessary. Like the ancient Earth Greek story of Oedipus." Byrne says. He sighs then. "Neither my mother nor I have any desire to take the high throne. That said, I've no liking for the Aiobhells moving closer to it either. I understand that they've been pushing this of late. My sources indicate there may be an unknown person or force behind they're efforts. Have you seen any strangers or anyone new to Court of late?" "There are a lot more of then in Court the last few years." Byrne says, scratching the center of his chin. "Aiobhells, one and all, and for the most part ones we've seen before, or heard of by reputation anyway." Byrne says. "There is one, though, one of the minor noblewomen, that no one quite can place, although she's part of the Aiobhell line, or so its claimed. No one seems to quite remember seeing her or hearing about her before she showed up in Court, though." "Her name's Aeron ." Byrne says. "You'll have to point her out to me;" Kieran says though he suspects that may not actually be the case. As he continues to talk with Byrne, he sends his Third Eye & Ear up and out looking for the other two threads like the Ambassador's he needs to track down here. He wants to trace the threads down to the people they're attached to in order to get a visual reference and maybe a name if someone speaks it. "Just how many Aiobhells are at Court, anyroad?" Kieran asks. "And none of the other Houses or nobles have remarked upon all of this?" "Directly in Court, not as many as you think, although the Privy Council is lousy with them" Byrne replies. "Not too many more than members of other Houses are represented in Court. There is a paucity of Scotans, of course, but you knew that. So, while the others might remark, they remark subtly and carefully. No one wants to be singled out for negative attention. You understand this of course, milord Prince." "Just enough to form a solid block if not outright majority in the council, I take it?" Kieran asks. "And they're the ones then pushing for theincrease in the 'royal' presence throughout the realm, especial Scota, I presume as well?" Byrne gives a confirming nod. As it so happens, neither of the two threads run to this Aeron. Instead one of the control threads runs to Owen Aiobhell, military advisor to the Ard-righ and Privy Council member (the strain of greed) and the other to Kore Aiobhell, another Privy Council member. (the strain of fear). Kieran definitely has both names and visages memorized. The scar along the top right of Owen's face, for example. "Tell me of Owen and Kore Aiobhell, milord Duke;" Kieran says after focusing his gaze back on Byrne. "Two members of the aforementioned Privy Council, lord Prince." Byrne replies. "Kore runs in Owen's footsteps, if you take my meaning, and always votes as he does. Fairly wealthy, she has lots of space-based economic interests. Owen is a former war hero in the Counterinsurgency. He is a strong militarist, seeking the expansion of the military and the presence of the military. Owen's opinion is for a interventionism based foreign policy, and espouses a doctrine he calls "Preemptive Aggression". "Wonder if that's anything like 'Aggressive Negotiations';" Kieran wonders aloud. "Oddly, he also seeks to increase our covert observations of old Earth." Byrne. "I have no idea why." To Byrne, Kieran says; "Is that a recent thing then? The preemptive aggression thing and the surveillance of Old Earth?" "Aye, although I am only at best a pawn myself." Byrne says. "The King is the center of the Court, but he does not control the court. The King is a reluctant political animal, milord Prince. I would cultivate the non Aiobhells in Court, milord. Form a Combine, a Coalition." "And be proud of who and what you are." he adds. "Skulking will not, I think, work. You must play boldly, and large, to win." Kieran chuckles briefly at that. "Oh, aye;" he says; "I can be big and bold enough." Byrne pauses a beat to allow Kieran to respond. "And now, I must depart. I trust will see you there in due course?" Kieran nods his head. "Aye, that you will;" he says. "I need to make a few calls before Court. Can you direct me to a room where I might have some privacy? And then milord, should you encounter any nobles not part of or allied with the Aiobhells, perhaps you could send them my way?" Byrne smiles. "This room, in fact, was intended for such a purpose, and once I withdraw, the room is yours for the purpose of whatever ablutions you desire. Any of the guards or servants can direct you to where you need to go after you leave. He pauses a moment. "And I would be pleased to direct like minded individuals in your direction." "And" Byrne grins and nods. "Good luck, Kieran." Kieran nods his head. "Thanks, Ciaran." After Byrne departs, Kieran comms Martel via his HTD. "Martel, I'm at Court;" he says. "Gather up our folk at the Embassy and get over here. Bring my case with my Court gear." Kieran goes on to give directions as to where in the palace his is. "Yes, Sir." Martel agrees. After a moment, he continues. "You wish all of us to be present?" Martel asks by way of clarification. "What of our folk who are in the city keeping abreast of things. Should they be brought back to the Embassy and come with us as well?" "Is there trouble?" he adds. "Nay, not yet;" Kieran replies. Then smiles. "No the ones... running errands can continue to do so. I just want a bit of a retinue as it were for when I go to see the Ard-Righ and the games begin." "You wish to present yourself as befitting the heir to Scota." Martel gives this a long, deep thought and a nod. "Yes, milord. I will gather all of those at the Embassy, dress them as befits your station, gather your gear, and come to the Palace." "The Embassy staff might well notice our preparations" he adds. "Did you wish our departure to be a surprise, or blatantly known?" "Let them know;" Kieran says. "They very well may aid you yet. I'd pop back and do a formal processional thing, but I'm already here." "Understood" Martel says, nodding and waiting for Kieran to continue. "Break out the kilts, Martel, the Black Watch colors. Been at Court less than an hour and they've already gotten me Scots up;" Kieran adds in a brogue accent. "Call when you get close or if anyone tries to give you any guff." Martel chuckles. "Aye, sir. We'll do that and be there as soon as we can. If there is any difficulties, we'll call, but I nae will let them stop us. We'll be there to protect you." Kieran's slip into a full Scotan accent, it seems, especially given the mental connection that a trump provides, is absolutely contagious. Kieran smiles and nods his head. "See you in a bit then;" he says and closes the call. With a nod, Martel's image fades away. He then calls up the image of his mother and reaches out for contact. The call goes through without a hitch. "Kieran." Mother says, aloud. In the background, on a divan, Kieran can see Fiona lounging against one arm of it, regarding Percy sitting against the far end of the divan, with plenty of space between the pair. Percy lifts his head and nods. Fiona doesn't lift her head, but smiles slightly and resumes a quiet conversation with him. "What news?" Brandeigh prompts. "You're in one of the sitting rooms in the Palace, I expect. The Scotan Embassy isn't decorated with such a confused eye for pattern and color." Kieran nods his head. "Aye;" he says; "That's where I am." He goes on to relay to his mother all that he's discovered since he saw her last and his plans for the trio that have been compromised. "I'm pretty certain the Baroness is involved, if not behind it all;" he says. "I've the beginnings of a plan to stomp on her and the Aiobhells plans to dominate the privy council and the Ard-Righ." "Mmm." Brandeigh temporizes. "So you think this is all a political plan on her part to take control of this shadow by controlling Keltia." "This unfortunately sounds like you are the target more than your father or I." Brandeigh says. "Since you first encountered her, and have entangled your fate with her, and not in a good way. I fear if I intervened, she would withdraw herself entirely." "I DO assume you want a decisive confrontation with her?" Brandeigh asks Kieran. "Rather than her simply quitting the field?" "Aye;" Kieran replies; "I would like the matter between her and I resolved." Mother gives an understanding nod of the head. "But that may not be all of it;" he adds. "There is her master to consider as well, and his plans. Narek only knew who I really was and of this place after finding her new master. So we have to consider his plans as well. He or she, may be seeking to get to Old Earth and hope to pierce the veil between Shadows there; maybe head for Amber." "There is another thing;" he continues. "Who are you leaving in charge while we are all gone?" he asks. "The matter of who Narek's Master is, is a good one." Brandeigh replies. "It's unlikely to be Cyllene, herself, for one, but it is likely to be someone who knows here and would be inclined to employ a shadow or reflection of her. If that is who Narek really is, of course." "I can think of some alarming possibilities as to who would be behind her" Brandeigh continues. "Although the most alarming of them is already dealt with, according to your grandmother. But I do not think we will be so fortunate as to that." "Who then?" Kieran asks, referring to potential masters of Narek. "I suspect the hand of one of your great uncles or great aunts." Brandeigh says. "Someone real at the very least, and I know of no Chaosians who would have any desire to hunt you." "But what if they're not after me, but you or Dad?" Kieran asks. "And if it is Family, why would they want to come through Keltia? They have the Pattern, they can go anyway they want to get to Amber." Kieran pauses in thought for a moment. "Unless, of course;" he says; "they don't. Don't have Pattern that is." "The last point is what I've been thinking on." Mother says. "If it is Percy or myself, its a long way round to get to us, given that Narek made first contact with you, and not here. And the impression I get is that Narek has made this very personal. Granted, her handler may not be." "Well, I've been the only one of the three of us outside Keltia in a long while;" Keiran says. "Maybe whoever it is couldn't get to you directly and decided to go after the next best thing; me. Narek's been gunning for me ever since she betrayed me and we fought and she lost. She's learned something, some power since then. Her new master had to have taught her that power." He shrugs his shoulders. "Maybe while looking for me, this person sensed Narek's anger and a connection to me, and took advantage of the situation. We may never know." "We may never know the full story." Brandeigh agrees. "As far as leaving in charge of the Shadow" Brandeigh continues "your father and I have been discussing that." Brandeigh says. "All things considered, with Mother's assistance, we may simply attempt to freeze the shadow's time flow and rely on the defenses to hold meddlers at bay until we return from dealing with the Omphalos." Kieran tilts his head to one side in thought. "Will that work better than the last time, do you think? Freezing the shadow, I mean?" "The alternatives include your father or I remaining here to monitor things." Brandeigh says briskly. "I somehow suspect Uncle Benedict would take a dim view of such an excuse as to decline his invitation, don't you think?" "Probably not;" Kieran concedes. "But not having met him, I'm not in a position to say one way or the other." He takes a deep breath. "What I'm getting at is this; how attached to the throne are you Mom?" Kieran goes on to relate what he's learned from Lady Martha Wells and Duke Ciaran Byrne about how some Kelts fear the House of Douglas and it's 'Sidhe' blood one day assuming the high throne and never giving it up. "Rule Keltia?" Mother laughs once Kieran is finished relating what he has learned. "Why in the name of the Unicorn would I have any desire to rule Keltia? Mistress of Scots is enough for me as it is. As long as the shadow doesn't get screwed up because of action or inaction, and they leave me and mine alone, the occupant of the Throne of Scone is of little matter." Kieran nods his head. "Besides" she adds. "Now that you are leaving the nest, Percy and I are not bound to stay here on anything but a part-time basis. You've done more shadow travel than we have in recent years. I would like to see how my god-daughter is doing, for example, even if its only been days by their reckoning." "Well enough, Mom;" he says; "and I tend to agree. The point is, our fellow Kelts don't know we have no desire to rule over them." "May I make a suggestion?" he asks, but continues on without waiting for an answer. "Pick a relative, a Douglas, that you feel would make a good Master or Mistress of Scots and make them Regent while we all go off to answer Uncle Benedict's summons. Tell them we've learned of another Coranian force or something like that and that we're off to take the battle to them. I'm not if you are bringing people from Keltia or not on this; I'm only taking a handful. And they know up front that it will be a long time, if ever, before we come back. I'll deal with the Aiobhell faction and Narek here and then we can disappear into history." He smiles thinly. "Of course, we can come back to visit and check on things from time to time." "We would be back. One does not give up their homeland *that* easily." Brandeigh agrees. "Even before our unexpected exile, Amber was as much home as Keltia, but only as much. Keltia would not get rid of me that easily. And to a lesser extent, your father. The place has grown on him." pride shines in her voice. "I will take your suggestion under advisement. Once the matter at hand is rooted out, that is." Kieran nods his head. "That's all I can ask;" he agrees. "Keep me posted on your progress and I'll do likewise. I should break this off; my retinue should be arriving shortly." He sighs theatrically. "I must prepare for Court." "Aye, son" Brandeigh says maternally. "You do. Remember who and what you are, and you will do fine." she assures him. "If possible, an honor guard would highlight..." she stops as if she can read Kieran's mind, or at least knows her son. "Something tells me you have already thought of that." she says in satisfaction. Kieran grins and nods his head. "I will give your regards to your father, and I will call you soon." she adds. "Till then;" Kieran says and allows the call to fade. He then sends his Third Eye and Ear up and out to find and monitor the approach of his people. It's clear to Kieran, as he sends his senses out again, that his previous efforts and use of his extrasensory senses and magic have not gone completely unnoticed. Kieran remembers an old movie that his parents showed him, where a microwave oven was used as an impromptu and unexpected jamming device to elude efforts to track the protagonists** When Kieran sends out his Third Eye and Ear, within the walls of the palace, there is an attempt at jamming things at a psychic level. Finding where that jamming comes from would be possible but difficult. However, the jamming is weak enough that Kieran can overcome it, but it just takes additional effort to try and send his senses too deeply within the palace. Kieran takes note of this. Outside the palace, though, there is no such jamming whatsoever and Kieran is free to find out that Martel and the other men of his troupe are proceeding apace in a carriage to the palace, their arrival close (nearly close enough that if he wanted to meet the carriage at its arrival in the courtyard, he should depart now). Kieran departs the room and heads for the courtyard to meet his people. A few of the guards have been assembled in the courtyard by the time Kieran gets there. In the distance, he can see the carriage wending its way through the grounds, heading steadily for this entrance. "Lord Byrne thought that you might appreciate the welcome for your people, milord." one of the guards says to Kieran. "We were not apprised of any nobility within your party, but they are under your aegis, are they not?" "They are my sworn men;" Kieran confirms with a short nod of his head. The carriage makes it into the courtyard after only a couple of minutes of waiting, and the Palace guards look smart as Martel and the other Scotans emerge from the carriage. All bow to Kieran save Martel, who goes to one knee, symbolically on behalf of the men he commands. "Milord Prince. We have come as you requested." All of them, as Kieran asked, are dressed to the nines, with every button polished. Kieran glances quickly at each of his people in turn, then glances out of the corner of his eye at the Palace guards, mentally comparing them against each other. "Rise Martel;" Kieran commands. "Have the detail collect the gear and follow me inside to the chamber set aside for us. We have much to do before Court begins." With that, Kieran turns and heads back into the Palace, but at a slow enough rate for Martel and the others grab the gear and catch up to him. "Yes, milord Prince" he says, rising. His voice has just that extra bit of loudness so that Kieran's title and rank are reinforced to the guards watching the scene. Martel has trained the men well, they pick up their kit and the gear and manage to get into line behind Kieran just about when he expects them to do so, if not a little earlier. "The Ambassador sends his regards." Martel says, falling into step with Kieran. "He was surprised that his assistant, you, and all of us intend to be at Court today." "What must we do before that happens?" "Good;" Kieran says with some sincerity in his voice. "Then others should be surprised as well." He leads them back to the room he previously occupied. He sends his senses out once again in a tight search of the room and the outer perimeter of same while making hand signals for the team to search for listening devices as well. Like a well oiled machine, Martel's force starts searching the room high and low wordlessly. "Until Court begins;" he says calmly; "we continue to make our presence known and felt here. And with a bit of luck, perhaps we shall be greeting and entertaining other members of the Court as well." What members of his people are here besides Martel? "You wish us to see and be seen." Martel says nodding slowly. "Making a splash, as it were, with our presence. I take it the Ambassador's assistant, lady Wells, is in her quarters. Are we allowing her to act independently, or do you intend to incorporate her into your plans, milord Prince?" Besides Martel himself, Kieran has at his disposal 5 people: Ormond, Nessa, Caer and Eion, people Martel was already scouting for Kieran's force to bring to the Omphalos operation, Bothwell, also here, is an exception to that rule. And, Thomas, also one of his picks, is apparently still holding down matters at Lennoxliss. "Aye;" Kieran replies. "We also have Lord Byrne, the Duke of Caerlyr, working with us." Once the bug sweep has been completed, Kieran goes on to relay the information he's learned from Lady Wells and Lord Byrne. "So for now, we make ourselves seen and noticed, and we strive to strike alliances with those that will aid us against the Aiobhells in attempt to take the Privy Council from them and free the Ard-Righ." "Select a couple of your detail and post them outside the door, Martel;" Kieran says. "It's not that I distrust the royal guards, completely;" Kieran smiles grimly. "But they and the city in general have been snubbing Scotans for far too long. Time to throw it back at them." Kieran looks at all the guards; "Remain professional at all times. Should any attempt to taunt or provoke you, do not react. Report it to Martel or myself. I will deal with it in the appropriate manner. Any questions?" "Yes, milord." Nessa says, looking to Martel, who gives a nod for her to proceed, before she regards Kieran. "You wish two of us to guard this place at all times, to be a visible presence here for this place, and we are to remain professional and impassive." "What of the rest of us?" she asks. "Do you wish bodyguards in the same capacity. or wish the remainder of us to range out into the Palace?" "I picked Nessa for her intelligence and insight, milord." Martel says with satisfaction. "And, with all modesty, milord, I can outwrestle you as easily as I can a Sassenach." she says to Martel. Bothwell stifles a snort that suggests agreement. Kieran considers this for a moment or two. "You think to interact with the palace guards and staff then;" he says. "To gather more information that will be of use to us then?" "Indeed, yes, milord." Nessa says. She gives a brief look at Martel, who gives her a nod of encouragement. "You seek allies and sympathetic minded members of the nobles of Court. You'd have us as guards show the strength, power and honor of Scota. Those are strong and powerful tools. However, any palace, any castle, any place of power is more than appearance and its aristocrats, if I may be so bold. At the very least, we can gather information from others of our social rank, and at the most, influence it in a positive direction." "Scota has not only not been a full presence in the Palace here on the level of the aristocracy, but on other social rungs as well. To change perceptions and opinions of Scota will take a bottom-up approach as well as a top-down approach." "I, ah, study sociology and anthropology in my spare time, milord." she says. "Frankly, I wonder when Nessa sleeps." Martel comments. "I've heard rumors as to about that." Caer says, cocking her head. "Irrelevant, I think." "Yes. They Are Irrelevant." Nessa says in clear capitalization. Kieran nods slowly. "Pick whomever you wish to work with you, save for Martel;" Kieran says after another moment's consideration. "Find out what you can and then report back." "Aye, milord" Nessa says. She gives the remainder of Kieran's team a thoughtful look. [Kieran] looks at the entire group. "At the moment, I'm leaning towards bringing all of you with me to Court;" he says. "I've a few ways of telling if this chamber has been disturbed while we're away." He pauses, then; "Anyone else have anything to add? If so, speak up. I'm very informal most of the time, especially when we're not on display, so feel free to make comments, suggestions and the like." There are a few coughs and murmurs from the group, as if weighing the opportunity to speak frankly with Kieran and not yet ready to pull the trigger, but it is Bothwell who speaks first. "How far are we willing to go, milord?" Bothwell asks. "If you don't mind me saying, it almost sounds like we are being a Counterinsurgency again, in all but name, but with the target changed. Are we to use violence against the Aiobhell if no other recourse is possible?" Kieran considers this for a few moment before answering. "A good question, and one with no easy answer;" Kieran replies. "I'm not sure how far this will all go before its done. I think its possible to limit this to a small number of Aiobhells and their retainers, and that's what I'm shooting for. I certainly don't want a full-fledged civil war between us and them to erupt. I'm not yet certain that the whole of House Aiobhell is behind this operation of their's; and I'd really like to know what the Prince of Thomond knows about this." "Will there be violence?" Kieran shrugs his shoulders. "Aye, if nothing else works, I may just go about provoking them to challenge, or challenge them myself." "That is different." Martel says. "The rules of challenge are well known and well defined, and were the Aiobhells to break them, Keltia has far worse problems than a power-hungry group of Nobles. It would mean the fabric of our society is still in tatters after the rule of *him*." "Not naming him just gives him power, Martel." Nessa says. "Especially since he's dead." "Finding out what the Prince knows before we commit to violent action is wise." Ormond says. "I do have relatives in the Aiobhells, milord, a couple of generations back though. Back before space travel was so restricted during *his* rule." Nessa fumes quietly as Ormond continues. "Maybe I should be the one to chat up their guards and servants?" Backlinks |
