The #Broken_Dagger Forum

"Here. Stop." The voice that emanated from the carriage was firm yet not harsh. Perhaps he was saving any eventual harshness for someone more worthy of it than his driver. Perhaps, he was just in a relatively good mood... and why not? Things were proceeding apace. The only surprise so far was the quick involvement of this Guillaume, and even that had not been much of a surprise. Calomel had a wall to his name. So did Guillaume. A man of equal will, if not equal mindset?

The visiting nobleman was very much looking forward to this meeting. He had dealt with underlings and subordinates since his arrival in Myrken. It was yet to be seen if Guillaume would prove himself to be something more than common. One could hope. This was even true for one so jaded by life at the royal court.

Josef patiently waited for the carriage door to be opened by his driver before stepping out, with no little care for his footing. Myrken streets were, in general, hardly as well kept as what he was used to. Station Row proved to be an almost welcome exception. 15 Station Row, moreover, seemed to provide some level of personal amusement, especially the glasswork. "It is... wonderfully quaint how long it takes such styles to find their way out to the wilderness." A big fish in a small pond, then? Interesting. It was a shame this Councilor would almost certainly see himself as more than that, would almost certainly cling to some sense of local pride. "Ahhh," a brief sigh to himself. "No matter."

A few brisk steps took him to the door. Reinstadler was clad in his usual dark fineries with their silver inlay. Upon his side rested a bejewelled ceremony sword, beautiful to look at, but assuredly sharp nonetheless. The driver went towards the door, intending to knock in Josef's place. A raise of the nobleman's hand stopped him. At least some semblance of effort had been put into the creation of this building. He would show a modicum of appreciation by knocking himself.

Would the door open, immediately? Not soon after? Either way and irregardless of who answered, whether it be servant or Guillaume himself, the words would be the same, curt, firm, and without embellishment. "I am Graf Josef Reinstadler, here on royal business. Announce me."

There is an elegance to those buildings which line Station Row, alike in their tall contours; their dainty terraces and shuttered windows. The elaborate lines of their architecture hint at old wealth, but while design of this building nestled amongst them is harmonious with what surrounds, it does not quite conform, so that at first glance the flanking structures are almost curtains for the prize at their center.

Clearly, there has been some refurbishment of this purchased residence.

It is a servant who answers Reinstadler's beckons, and promptly so; he was expected at this hour, after all. Neatly clad in the Lothbury crimson and gold, this man bends at the waist in some small bow as he draws the door open, and a sweep of the hand admits him into a well-lit foyer of some size.

Pale light streams from those forward windows, their drapes drawn well back to accomodate the warmth of the day, but it is heightened by a scattering of small lanterns, each with their small and delicately-patterned panes of glass. There are plush seats to await a gentleman's leisure, a low table of some fine mahogany, polished to a high gloss. Long rugs carpet the flooring, and it is upon one of these that the servant is turning already. A lift of the chin allows him a long gaze towards the curling staircase at the foyer's edge --

"If you will accompany me, sir? My lord Councilor awaits you within his offices."

And he will await the man's pleasure before concluding that turn, will wait to be sure that he is trailed, before leading Reinstadler up this tall staircase.

There was the slightest bit of hesitation before the Graf entered the building. A large fish in a small pond indeed. It must rankle ever so much to be neighbors with this Guillaume, he who would upset the architectural balance of the entire street just to ensure that he stood out all the more. Such impressions would help to decide the mood of this meeting.

Reinstadler entered the house, cool eyes shifting to and fro. His well trained eyes judged the residence as his peers constantly judged his own back in Razasan and his estate not far outside. Surely, in Myrken, this is a building that awes. Yes, even for one so cosmopolitan and cultured as the young nobleman, this home began tosuffice, at least for the wilderness. It was a begrudging surprise. He was not impressed, exactly, but there was an element of respect, and certainly all the more interest.

The servant received the slightest of vocal assents for his trouble, and that was granted only because otherwise the man might not have moved at all. Reinstadler had better things to do than wait all day for a servant to turn. The man did move, of course, and Josef followed him up those stairs, his silent judgment of his surroundings never-ending.

It is a quiet accessory to office and to circumstance, this manservant. Might Reinstadler consider himself above idle conversation with such a creature? Then the two proceed in harmony, for the man is not forthcoming, performs his service with all the spirit and personality of a well-dressed shadow. It is a narrow corridor through which they proceed, the polished wood of its flooring bisected down its middle with long carpeting of subtle design, and several closed doors are passed before the guide pauses.

A touch of knuckles to the door; simply that, before he is pressing the thing gently open, and here is that sweep of the hand once more, to admit Reinstadler to a room's interior.

Below, the surrounds had been delicate with their opulency. Here, that aesthetic is countered by functionality: the several seats are well-upholstered and delicate with their design, set into an arrangement that pleases the eye; the tea-table near a glistening window is elaborate with scrollwork, inlaid with thin lines of opal at its corners. A heavy decanter of cut crystal is set there, a trio of glossy goblets set aside it, and upon the floor are rugs that welcome tired feet, soft with their weave. But the bookshelves which line the walls are crowded, and small instruments of eccentric design dot table-space here and there; a pile of pages upon the Councilor's own desk threatens disaster by simple fact of its height, and that collection of quills and small ink-pots near it exhibit the wear of purposeful use. It is a collaboration of two very separate worlds, and its effect is to transform the appearance of a very broad room, until it seems much smaller than it ought to be.

Of course, the armoured creature standing some space rear of the seated Councilor might also have something to do with that.

Ah, but the man himself: the immediate impression is one of sleek pale hair and patrician features, of mild and pale eyes, and the rich, cream tones of satin longcoat. At its tall collar, subtle designs slightly glitter -- and the moreso now, as he stands upon his guest's entrance. The smile is thin-lipped and genial. No hand is offered.

"Ah: Reinstadler. Do seat yourself. Do you take tea?"

And this with a tilt of one long-fingered hand towards the set of pretty porcelain that awaits at one corner of this wide desk. A hint of lace at that wrist, a hint of richness there. And had the man noticed upon entering?

That the doorframe is a rich, fine wood -- and that, far more importantly, the entirety of it is engraved with tiny and purposeful runes.

Josef walked up the stairs in silence. This servant seemed capable, at least. There was a level of real, ingrained dignity in the distance between master and servant. As this man was prompt, respectful, and dutiful, the Graf saw no reason to disrupt that. Idle smalltalk would not have been any sort of kindness. It would instead have been a deep disservice to both of them.

It mattered little. The servant was already out of Reinstadler's immediate thoughts as his well-trained eyes examined the office. He knew little about Guillaume, less so than other Councilors. What he did know about both the man and his past, recent and otherwise, meant that the armored figure's presence was no surprise at all. That was not to say that the bodyguard's sheer lack of height was not unsettling in itself, especially considering the relative size of the weapon he (he?... it was a he, no?) carried. Alone, that would cause those eyes to be drawn there first. Really, it was a rather gauche affront. Oh, there was the sense that the guard always stood there, that it was as much an accessory as the desk, but it reeked of either intimidation tactics or proof that the man was already intimidated, perhaps by life in general.

It meant that Guillaume's first real look at the young Graf would be of a man who was momentarily caught between a smirk and a sneer. Amusement won this brief battle, and Reinstadler sat down wearing something of a pleasant smile. Tea? It was something of a leap of faith that he would not be given some sort of misnamed muck... but why not? What was life without a little adventure? What was this if not an adventure out in the wilds of Myrken.

"Guillaume." There was an unspoken agreement, apparently, because Reinstadler did not offer his hand either. He would offer something, however. "I will say that your residence is something of an oasis in this sea of barbarism. Why, I would go so far to say that it rivals the urban dwellings of some of the lesser title-holders back in Razasan. And yes, tea would be... welcome." And, oh, why not? He would go further than this. He truly could not sit around all day on the off chance hope that the tea was not completely wretched. "... and I will say that your relatively prompt action has been duly noted. I was fully expecting to find the government in shambles once I learned the Governor was away." To act, of course, was not enough. Action had to be correct. It still remained to be seen whether this Councilor was going to do what was right and proper now that they were actually sitting across from one another.

"Ah, Razasan and her uncompromising adherence to structure; certainly she would suffer, were some element of it removed. Myrkentown differs, as was surely explained to you before your arrival, but this is your ... second day within our borders? What a bedlam we must seem."

There is amusement in the man's mild eyes, when he lifts a glance towards Reinstadler; amusement, and a wry quirk to the corner of his mouth with its subtle curve. This in the midst of arranging tea for both of them, and isn't this a marvel? That the stuff lightly steams still as he pours it from the teapot, tawny with its colour and sweet-scented.

"If only your stay allowed you time enough to acclimatise, but of course, Razasan surely anticipates your return already. Indeed, I must thank you for the time you've allotted to this very meeting; when we realised that Royal edicts were dispersed from the town square, we came to understand something of the ... urgency of your visit. Sugar? Clotted cream?"

It is a light smile that moves the Councilor's thin-lipped mouth, as he turns back about in his seat, and here is a teacup upon its dainty saucer, slid across the desktop towards this royal emmissary.

"So. I shall deliver your compliments to our builders, and not waste a moment more of your time upon such talk. I am told that you've secured lodgings of quality sufficient to your purposes, yes? An itinerary will be delivered its door by this evening; two hours before noon next, the Councilor Aloisius Treadwell may be expected there, the better to guide you personally upon the tour outlined.

"A familiarising will only better us all, hm? Myrkentown is possessed of her mm, eccentricities, but then my Lord Hawkesbury has likely appraised you of this fact in advance of your arrival, yes?"

Oh, that is what this is, then? High art? A symbol of the very uncertainty and chaos of Myrkentown? ...as if that was something to laud. Or perhaps Guillaume meant that Myrken was art in itself? Foolishness. Form, structure, and aesthetic beauty. All must exist for art to exist. If this overgrown grouping of hovels possessed any of the three, it was only through sheer, utterly invalidating, accident.

"Ahhh. Yes, of course." Such a response was expected. Local pride. Such a shame. Such a shame. A man such as this could have been directly useful. "So much... flexibility, especially in your government. How admirable... so many different Governors over the last few years. Why, it almost seems as if everyone is given a healthy attempt at the job." A hand was raised as if he wished to avoid some imagined offense, even as he looked at Guillaume squarely. "... almost everyone, that is." Reinstadler's voice was even, though perhaps a little bored, yet not without well-trained sympathy, if not for the man across for him, then for the land as a whole. He was succeeding quite well in keeping any obvious curtness absent. "Why, certainly the people do not suffer here as we might for the lack of stability.Think of all the new ideas generated by fluidity. The healthy and hearty rabble are aware of it, obviously. Wasn't it just last year around this time that they decided they were ready for.. ah, but we do have urgent business. No reason to dredge up past incidents when there is work to be done."

His tea was accepted without any modification. One from the capital got used to not putting lumps or liquids into one's tea, especially when proffered by another. One learned to enjoy the taste for what it was. Not accepting such things, especially from near strangers, was very good for one's health.

The Graf sipped at that tea as he listened. It was obvious where this Councilor was going, obvious that he possessed at least some quaint savvy, and that he thought himself even more clever by far. "I would be doing an unforgivable disservice to my duty if I were to leave before meeting the Governor. One of the edicts concerns him so directly, do you see?"

Treadwell? Guillaume though to pawn him off onto that... fine, then. "I am afraid that even so interesting a tour must wait until the edict that does not directly involve the Governor is fully met, unless the terms of the pardoning HAVE been realized? Also," that first word was spoken to stall any immediate reply from Giscard, "while I am naturally interested to know all of the Councilors, I am particularly looking forward to meeting Councilor Spier. My late mother's family are traders of some renown and I am rather certain that they have done business with Spier in the past. If am not mistaken, she might have even been a direct acquaintance of his. As she died when I was young, I do always so value such chances to learn of her. Such a meeting will be possible within the next two days, I take it?" It was said as if the answer could be taken for granted, as if it was the easiest thing in the world, as if Spier was present in Myrken and the issue of Karolinger was about to be resolved this very moment.

"Now then, tell me of the pardoning." His words were no longer pleasant or patient. Further distraction would be met poorly.

It is a fascinating encounter, and almost solely due to the fact that this is not the first emissary that the Crown has delivered to Myrken soil. This one is a finely-constructed beast: he chooses his words with deliberate care, he laces them with half-concealed disdain, textures them with an edge of occasional horror, subtle indignance --

One might almost imagine that he feels he has something to prove.

"Urgent business," Guillaume has echoed Reinstadler now, with some easy incline of his head. The matter of Treadwell's involvement is deferred with an elegant lift of his hand; he will not complicate it with words at this point. That Councilor will make his visit to Reinstadler's door regardless, and they will see what comes of that, they will see how forceful this man intends to be. For now..

"Of course, my lord will spend his time amongst us as he sees fit; if you would defer a familiarising with the region in favour of more personal matters -- well. We are all gentleman here, hm?" There is a mild ease to the contour of this smile. "Surely we understand how ... pressing such a desire must feel. You are welcome of course to make your petition to Spier's household; I do not doubt that they will be forthcoming.

"Of course, I cannot make such arrangements in your stead. I do not account for those hours our Councilors spend upon leisure."

Leaning back in his seat then, Guillaume sets the teacup aside for a time, there to steam prettily and undisturbed. Long fingers are a steeple beneath his chin, a compliment to a mouth caught into some musing line.

"This pardoning -- ah, how glad young Karolinger must have been to hear of this; the news has surely reached his ears already, yes? I dare say it's the talk of the town by now -- have you travelled in the care of guards, incidentally? If not, then an escort may be arranged, and I do advocate -- one gentleman to another -- in favour of this.

"The pardoning. I fear that Myrkentown's -- how did you describe it? Flexibility? Yes, yes. Or flexibility does suffer from certain limits still. A matter of documents, you understand, a matter of papers and their signing, without which we do not release a man from our barracks -- particularly a man of Karolinger's marvelous prowess, infamous deeds. In accordance with His Majesty's decree, we have begun upon this process. It is our hope that all will proceed promptly. Of course, you will receive notification directly, upon its completion."

So that is how it would be? "Ah, you misunderstand, Guillaume." He has had quite enough of calling this man by his title today. The Graf had not yet decided if Giscard was below the title or his title was below him. Either way, it did not seem to fit correctly. He took another sip of that somehow passable tea. Josef certainly did not seem fascinated with any of this. "Though such confusion is understandable, perhaps." Still, he could grant such merciful statements.

Elucidation, then. "A tour is certainly desirable, but I fear my time right now is particularly strained. To put it in the simplest terms, I mean to kill two birds with one stone. How was I to know that you could so easily enlist one Councilor and not assist with contacting another?" His words were now laced with the slightest bit of sympathy once again, and the sentiment was punctuated with a firm nod. "No matter. I shall call upon Spier after our meeting and will be sure to let you know of any particular... difficulties that might arise." He spoke as a man who seemed to expect just that, but that would consider it a true favor to pass along such information to so involved a party... and perhaps the better part of Myrken as well.

His eyes stay upon Giscard the whole time, and even as he continues to speak. There was almost a military precision about this young man, one that did not fade even as responded to the Councilor. "One would have to be quite the fool not to travel with men he trusted, especially here. I am well protected, thank you." His free hand slowly ran over one of the almost invisible scars upon the side of his face.

His hand returned to his side as he nodded, sympathetic once again. "Things take time, of course. That is fine. It will be oh, another twenty hours or so before I send my initial report back to the Court. That should be more than satisfactory, I take it? It IS only a matter of a few signatures." Truly, was this not the end of their business for today? Josef rose to his feet, placing the half-empty teacup nearby. He did not mean to linger. He had quite enough of this for now. His initial points were made and no, he did not come to Myrken to trade wits with some interim leader who thought he was larger than he was. It was just about time to be on his way. He had not lied about this: There WAS so much to be done.