[centre][h2]Lalrial, The Heartlands[/h2][/centre]

[hr]

	The Gilded Gourmet was one of the finest dining establishments in Lalrial, and a contender for one of the most noteable, most exquisitely staffed and decorated, and above all, most expensive restaurants in Ethica. The average denizen of the Phoenix City could not afford an entrée at the Gilded Gourmet, and indeed, would not have been allowed inside to even try and purchase themselves a meal. A troupe of the gendarmerie, in full uniform, kept watch at the entrance and throughout the restaurant’s halls, and both the building’s architecture and interior design—reminiscent of the golden mosaics and general opulence of the Palais du Peuple—were orchestrated to remind visitors of a city [i]far[/i] greater in class than the one in which the restaurant itself was situated. The Gilded Gourmet was a Veletian outpost, standing proud in the midst of the Imperial City. And like all of the rest of Violette, it was owned by House Gracieux.

	The Duchess of Violette gave a smile and a pert nod to the Gwethyn girl as she was admitted into one of the Gilded Gourmet’s private couple’s dining rooms, the gendarme flanking the entranceway opening the door for her to proceed inside. Within, she saw Victoria Gracieux, adorned in one of her signature violet dresses. Around the Duchess’ neck was the artefact of House Gracieux, a golden necklace with gemstones arranged to form the shapes and colours of flowers, the so-called ‘Gilded Bouquet’, after which the restaurant was named. She was sitting in a chair behind a table, and both were crafted most elegantly, from one exotic wood or another. At the other end of the table, closest to the door, was an empty chair, where Haldetrude was meant to sit.

Princess Haldetrude had travelled - as was custom with Gwethyn maidens - with a chaperone (in this case it was Lady Marienne di Ventilado, sister of Queen Eadrith) but she left her accompaniment outside as the gendarmes swung the door open. The meeting had been giving her much consternation during the trip from Harksmoor to Lalrial. Haldetrude was unsure about who outranked who in the equation - whether she, as a Princess, outranked a Duchess, or whether Victoria, as an Elector, outranked her, so upon her arrival into the room she gave a sort of half curtsey that attempted to satisfy both sides of the argument. 

The eighteen year old princess wore her hair down and brushed straight down her back, held in place with gold bands that were studded with tiny emeralds at various intervals. About her right wrist she wore a complex jewelled bracelet that swirled with delicate bands of silver midway up her forearm. Purposefully, all of her jewellery was of Veletian make, specifically from Artran, a city that exercised a virtual monopoly on Gwethyn aristocratic luxury. 

Haldetrude swept into the room with a sort of effortless elegance and grace, the result of many years of careful training by a dynastically conscious mother who was fully aware of the disarming capabilities of charm. “I thank you for your audience, Duchess Victoria,” She said, flashing a toothy smile. Though not particularly beautiful, there was a warmness and a purity that seemed to emanate from King Aethlar’s only sister.

The matriarch of House Gracieux was pleased at Haldetrude’s manner, though not surprised. The Caernavirs, and, in Victoria’s experience, the Gwethyn in general, were a people that placed spectacular emphasis on formality, and the regimentation of custom. Not unlike most of the rest of Ethica’s great houses, blood, especially noble blood, was of incredible importance to them. This practice was not foreign to Veletians, but was also not entirely grasped by them. In Violette, it was not blood that determined hierarchy, but gold. Victoria had felt superior to everyone she had ever met not because she considered her superiority to have descended from word of on high, but because she was fantastically wealthy. There was something egalitarian, she surmised, of thinking yourself as better than those you meet because of the contents of your coinpurse instead of your veins.

“And I thank you, Princess Haldetrude. It is splendid to meet someone with such excellent grasp of manner. I fear it has been mostly faux-barbarians who have arrived in this city of late. You are a breath of fresh air. Please, sit. How do you like your surroundings, Haldetrude?”

The Gwethyn princess found Victoria’s plain-speaking both amusing and somewhat disarming. Growing up in the royal court of Harksmoor, everything important had been left unsaid, and calling your northerly neighbours ‘faux-barbarians’ was the sort of thing that people like Haldetrude’s mother only ever implied. She took her seat obligingly, casting an eye around the room. It was as splendid and opulent as any piece of Veletian jewellery rendered large. It was said in Harksmoor that the Veletians wore their money like other people wore their socks, and it certainly seemed to be ringing true in the capital. 

“I enjoy the capital, in general,” Haldetrude said carefully. “I have not visited for very many years, and I fear that my occasion to be here during this particularly trying time is only so that my brother can attempt to make a wife of me to some second son of a paltry lord. I heard him talking of sending off our bastard sister to the north just the other day. As for the venue, I admire it greatly. The concept of fine dining has not yet taken hold in Gwethydd, and I fear for a maiden to dine out alone would be a scandal in Harksmoor,” She said with a small laugh. 

“I trust that you are at least somewhat aware of the purpose of my visit today,” Haldetrude said, tracing a finger over the lip of the table. Her aunt, Princess Alissera, had sent a missive in her distinctive spidery handwriting to Haldetrude when she was halfway to Lalrial by special rider. It was likely that she had also sent communications to the capital as well. The ‘Princess in the Tower’ was a ubiquitous figure in Gwethyn foreign affairs, after all, and her well-worded missives were almost enough to make up for the fact that no diplomat had ever seen or held a conversation with her in person. 

	“I am here representing King Aethlar,” She said with a nod, though her voice lifted somewhat when she reached the name of her brother. Everyone in the know knew that the King of the Gwethyns was an attractive, charming and well-educated man, and little else. On cue, she tapped the necklace that hung around her neck, which was a silver figure of a stag reared up on its hind legs. It was the sigil of the Queen Mother’s house of birth, the Cantaviri. 

Victoria laughed, her gaze listing downward for a moment to examine the sigil on Princess’ neck, before rising to meet her eyes. “If you were here to represent King Aethlar you would not have been allowed inside. I don’t have any interest in speaking to that flowery buffoon, and especially not in speaking to anyone who would willfully represent him. I believe the truth of the matter is that we are both wearing our loyalties around our necks.” Victoria took her necklace in hand, carefully lifting the largest and most central of the gemstone flowers, a violet, up for Haldetrude to see. 

“We are in a private venue, speaking to each other without observers. I have found that it requires an incredible amount of patience to feign tolerance for collective lies in the public sphere, and for that reason, I gift myself with forwardness in private, to save fake smiles and loathsome curtsies for when they are needed. I do not imagine that either of us requires practice in how to speak subtly, and as our interests are aligned, we needn’t bother.” A grin broke out on the Duchess’ face. “Of course, that isn’t to say we should be uncivil. Personally, I am quite fond of civility. It is what separates us from, among more troublesome others, the great unwashed.” Victoria’s fingers clasped on the table, and her grin withered. “You represent the Dowager’s Tower. The cabal of powerful women, centred around Queen Hiltruda, that is the true power in your kingdom. And you are not here as Aethlar’s liaison, but Hiltruda’s.”

Haldetrude nodded along slowly with the words. One corner of her mouth twitched slightly when she heard the king being referred to as a buffoon. “I believe the situation to be a good deal more intricate than that. My mother, like my brother, represents first and foremost the interests of the Kingdom of Gwethydd. I believe that our two nations have somewhat more in common than most would like to admit in that sense - the Caernavir do not leave diplomacy to chance. King Aethlar serves his own separate and yet essential function. He is the embodiment of our nation - a shining, charming, swaggering hero for our peasantfolk to be enamoured by. Neither he nor they need be aware that the intricacies of government are more complex than that. Nor,” Haldetrude said with a smirk. “...am I sure that they would understand,”

“It would not be my wish to be factionalist towards my own brother,” She cleared her throat. Her demure and girlish air was fading somewhat as she sunk her teeth into the meat of the conversation. “But you are right. I am here under the instructions of my mother first and foremost. The ‘cabal’, as you call it, that maintains stability in our nation. Someone like yourself can surely recognise the potential power that can come even as an ostensibly decorative consort. Even as an Empress, let’s say,” Haldetrude let her mouth linger on the sibilance of the last word for a moment, arching an eyebrow. 

“House Gracieux has been a great friend to our nation in the past,” Haldetrude paused, slightly unsure of the provenance of what she had been instructed to say next. “Queen Hiltruda bade me remind you how grateful we are of the last ‘great service’ that your father rendered unto the continued stability and moral health of Gwethydd,” There was an uncertain pause. “The kingdom is better for it.”

	Victoria spoke plainly, and arrived immediately at her point. Her eyes never left Haldetrude’s.  “The trouble with figureheads is when they stop being figureheads and begin to exercise power. The power, for instance, to elect an Emperor.”

“You have heard of our ‘triumphant’ entry into the city then,” Haldetrude conceded. “My brother swaggering at the side of Prince Jakinius like his aide-de-camp, and me and my bastard sister at his sides like baubles. It was almost embarrassing. But you are right - it has been a concern to the Caernavir that the King may exercise the… less fortunate… vote at the crucial moment. That is a prerogative endowed unto him at imperial leisure, however. We can do little except influence him to choose in the correct way,” 

“I think…” Victoria began, “that five years is a long enough reign. The possibility of King Aethlar VI casting the deciding vote for Jakinius is not only a grave prospect to myself, but also to the sane half of your family. He may be a puppet today, but with an Emperor whom he mistakenly interprets to be his close friend, and who relies on him for having become Emperor in the first place, he could begin to command a spectacular amount of power. At the very least, he would pretend that he was spectacularly powerful, and his pretenses would get in the way of the actual governance of your country.” Victoria assessed Haldetrude’s reactions to her words very carefully, taking note of each subtle gesture and every little flinch.

“There is a way to both remove Aethlar from power, replacing him with whichever new figurehead you and your compatriots choose, whilst at the same time ruining Jakinius’ chances at becoming Emperor. All without any need for a hunting accident,” The Duchess then adopted a more personal tone. “I needn’t remind you, of course, that this would also spare you and your poor sister from becoming the regretful brides of some horrible bastard of a lord that you’ve not even yet had the unfortunate ‘honour’ of meeting.” The Duchess of Sunvale sat upright in her chair, releasing a deep breath. She finished, “If I were in your shoes, that would be my foremost concern.”

Haldetrude’s face hardened somewhat as Victoria spoke. A vein popped in the soft white skin of her neck and a small blush rose to her cheeks. “My own interests are irrelevant. If my mother sees it advantageous to place me in the north that is where I will go - if she does not then Aethlar will be dissuaded from pursuing anything more meaningful. Eadgifu and Gaewin can be married off, because they remind her of that stain on our family that caused their birth,” She paused, sighing softly. “We can manage our own affairs quite adequately. I have no desire to see my brother dead,”

	“Nor,” Victoria interjected, “is it necessary for your brother to die. My ambition is not to kill him. Exactly the opposite. I wish for King Aethlar VI, who rode into town at Jakinius’ side and is a loud proponent of his rule, to be put under investigation for ordering a murder. I wish for him to be framed for the death of a supporter of my husband, to shame Jakinius’ supporters and engender sympathetic support, among nobles and peasants alike, for Ralltene. A side-effect of this would be that Aethlar would be unable to exercise his role as elector, and some other member of his house would have to vote for him. And if he were to be found guilty, of any related charge, even those that do not carry the penalty of execution, it would not be difficult to place someone new as the monarch of Gwethydd. He would be unfit to rule.”

	“My mother would never agree to defame an anointed Gwethyn monarch in that way. We would risk alienating the entire Gwethyn nobility. It would be a humiliation for my house,” Haldetrude spoke in a level, calculating way. She was obviously not as insulted by this suggestion as she had been by her mistaken belief that Victoria had insinuated the murder of her brother. “The Caernavir favour stability in this Empire. That is what has always engendered prosperity,” She rocked her head pensively from side to side. “Besides, what would we stand to gain from such a ritualistic humiliation? I am sorry to talk to tactlessly, but the semantics of this unprecedented move risk throwing the placid men of my kingdom into chaos. I am not sure I can sanction that,”

	“I also fear that my second brother, Lethlin, is wholly more politically minded than Aethlar. Furthermore, if he were to come to the throne, there is a possibility my bastard brother Gaewin could stake his own claim. Gwethydd has not experienced a civil war since the inception of the Ethican Empire. I would not have its first tumult rest on my young shoulders,” Haldetrude’s face was lined with doubt for a moment. “Is there no way to… remove Jakinius from this process? Peaceably, of course. I fear his presence in the capital erodes our northern borders with every moment,” 

	“I have only just offered you a chance to remove Jakinius from this process. As for the possibility of civil war or discontented nobles, it is often the case that overwhelming strength and a few chests of coin are enough to dissuade the former and the latter, respectively. It would be no more difficult a matter to maintain stability than it was when Duke Frank ensured Queen Hiltruda became the acting ruler of Gwethydd after she murdered her husband. It would be easier, now, even. The Veletian Marine is stronger, House Gracieux’s coffers are healthier. I can hardly see any downsides, really. Everything that both myself, Hiltruda and the young and beautiful Princess Haldetrude wish to prevent is prevented, and everything that we wish to occur occurs.”

	“I would need certain assurances. My brother must not be found guilty of anything heinous nor dishonourable,” Haldetrude paused again. “Queen Eadrith is pregnant. If she gives birth to a boy, then the succession will be in good order. If it is a girl, then things are more uncertain. You must allow me one more chance to actively probe the voting intentions of my brother, also, before I can agree to anything as drastic as this. Finally, I must ask how you hope to deal with the third contender for the throne. Your husband, I fear, is not quite popular enough to discount Allianna’s candidacy,” She finished resolutely. The cogs began to fall into place in her mind.

	The Duchess’ smile widened from cheek to cheek the moment Haldetrude began to speak of assurances. She nodded at her concerns, sympathetically, and when Allianna’s name escaped the Princess’ lips, she spoke up. “One matter at a time. We must ensure that Jakinius is not our next Emperor. Try to convince your brother against his northern hero. If he is as stubborn as I believe, then we may put our plan into place. Once that matter is dealt with, we may speak of Empress Allianna.” Victoria fingered the violet on her necklace, staring off away from the Princess. “Violette has stood proud for a long, long time, and on the back of business. It would be foolish of the city’s matriarch not to have her eggs in at least two baskets.”
	
	“I am sure King Aethlar can be convinced. And I am sure that, in this instance, the risks and sacrifices House Caernavir are willing to take will be remembered by our future Emperor, as has always been the case. We remain, as we always have been, the champions of stability. It is a venerable position, and one which comes with much tribulation. Recognition is always welcome,” Haldetrude said primly, folding her hands over each other in a business like fashion.

	“Recognition has a way of finding itself where it is most welcome,” finished Victoria, with a slight smirk. “When the right people are giving it out, at least.”


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[b][Collaboration between myself and [url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/users/themoatedgrange]TheMoatedGrange[/url].][/b]