Avatar of Syrenrei

Status

Recent Statuses

9 mos ago
Current Out of town until Thursday and the Wi-Fi is spotty. =(
1 like
1 yr ago
Been under the weather for the past couple days, posts tomorrow!
2 likes
1 yr ago
Unfortunately, there are people everywhere that like to shame others for their tastes with an air of false superiority, even in RP.
5 likes
1 yr ago
You would think, but there are so many people that make wild assumptions, and force you to create rules.
4 likes
1 yr ago
It's going to be one of those days, I can feel it. Hope everyone is having a more pleasant Friday the 13th!

Bio

About Me:
Just turned 40 (sadly), happily married with two sons. I've been role-playing since I was 14 years old, starting with AOL chatrooms and instant messenger (the dark days), before graduating to IRC, Gaia, RPNation, and then this website. When not roleplaying I am a GM of a raiding guild on Stormrage server, listen to Kpop, read books and manhwa, and binge on TV shows/movies when I am stressed (sci fi, fantasy, drama, Korean).

I'd love to get to know other RP folks, especially if you're my age!

What I like/want in RPs:
Romance (necessity, I respect not everyone likes it)
At least 2 paragraphs per post
Sci Fi, (High, Low, Urban) Fantasy, Futuristic, Supernatural, some modern or psuedo-historical
Someone who plays male characters
Plots that allow me not to have to write realistic melee action (but I love to read it!)
Characters 18+
Players 18+
Intrigue/mystery in a story
Cooperative world building

What I don't like:
Players under 18
Children or teenage characters
Western or prehistoric settings
Plots with only action
Almost all furry/anthro pairings
G-rated romance

Message me if you think we'd be good RP partners for each other! Please note I do require romance, though I certainly do NOT want that to be the summation of the story nor do I necessarily want it to be "fluffy." I also adore romances that have with characters with significant flaws and baggage, where there is conflict and disagreement, as there would be in real relationships. Some mundanes/players believe that all love stories develop "organically" in the story- but my real life experience has taught me you can have no chemistry with someone that would be great for you, all the chemistry in the world for someone you never thought you'd like, and romance is not 'organic' and predictable in practice. As a mundane/player we make the decision for romance because, quite frankly, we aren't the characters no matter how alive they might feel. They don't truly exist physically to have chemistry. If you feel differently we will not be a good fit for each other.

Additionally, I require players separate themselves from this characters. This should go without saying, but just because we write a romance together does not mean there are real feelings beneath. I am truly happily married. Please, please, please don't expect any fiction to translate into real life.

Most Recent Posts

Fingertips rapped thoughtfully on the table as she listened to Galt speak, her head tilted to the side as she listened intently. In many social situations she was careful to temper her stare as she had been told, admittedly most loudly by her brother, that when she was overly focused on a person or topic that her gaze was almost intimidatingly fierce. Silke had no desire to give such an impression and thus took pains to temper her countenance as best she was able. Sitting with the former thief, however, her mask slipped slightly as she concentrated internally on the the issue of the bandits and how best to utilize them to raise the newly christened count to a higher station.

Of course, his long explanation was leading her down the path to the conclusion that the bandits in the area were irrelevant. Surprisingly, he was so firm in his belief that he was eager to learn, and she knew that almost no one had any measure of excitement for mathematics and accounting. What few noblemen she knew had earnest passion for the subject had an entirely different disposition than Galt. Perhaps his skill with a sword and his considerable charms were a result of his upbringing (or lack thereof) rather than his natural inclinations, but she found that unlikely. Either he was deflecting away from discussing his former comrades or he was anxious about his new financial responsibilities. Silke didn't know him well enough to decipher which was the real impetus for his driving their conversation back towards bookkeeping.

"I'm sure you're familiar with the concept of pressing your advantage. Right now, in this moment, you have the advantage of being the hero whom everyone knows and is fascinated with. I'm aware of your objections to being painted as a hero, but it is something you can capitalize upon regardless," she elaborated, turning to glance out the window. It really was quite lovely outside in the palace. Though their location was relatively remote considering how busy the rest of the castle was, it was still lively, and she almost found herself lost watching people through the window.

"There's a variety of ways that lords climb the ranks so to speak. Many marry for power and influence through their new in-laws, an indirect route, but one that is highly successful and reaps rewards for the next generation. Others build their wealth through their cunning and wield it as a means to achieve recognition and prestige. Some are accomplished social adepts that trade in secrets, lies, and truths in equal measure, and can subtly manipulate the court to gain their clout. Each aristocrat presses their advantage, their strength, to achieve their goal."

Silke took a calculated pause to let Galt ruminate over those roads to success she had just laid bare. None of them seemed to suit him, at least not yet, and she wanted him to arrive at that same deduction. He didn't leap at her proposal to introduce him to eligible ladies, and was not enthused about wedding, he didn't have the experience and business acumen to delve deeply into how to benefit through investment and trade, and the fact he was shunning other company implied he didn't have the endurance for spending endless weeks attending every event and function where a peer might attend.

"So," she said, looking back towards him and lowering a head onto her palm. "I thought we might make you into more of a hero. You know how they move, how they think, how they fight, and between the two of us we're clever enough to come up with some plans that will make any conflict have minimal risks." Tapping one piece of blank parchment with her finger she continued more softly. "And it doesn't have to all be for glory. Any spoils, any rewards, we could use for something meaningful to you. I could teach you how to fund a home, a decent one, for children that need one, for example." Silke couldn't understand what his life was before now; she could sympathize, but not empathize. What she kept returning to, though, was how much more difficult everything was after her mother had passed, and how hellish it would have been if she didn't have the security of her father, brothers, and a stable home.
Silke greeted him with a smile, bordering on a mischievous grin, but she waited until her escort had deposited her box on the larger table in the room before she spoke. The servant that had accompanied her up to the higher floor seemed discrete enough; however, if there was one thing she had learned over her many years in the courts, it was to never presume privacy with others around. Her hair had been twisted and coiled on the crown of her head, though today it was not secured by jeweled combs, ribbons, or fanciful braids. Similarly, her clothing was more muted, yet appropriate for a visit to the castle. Rather than large, sweeping sleeves, hers laced up to her wrists, which was still fashionable and exponentially more practical for writing. The gown was a pleasant shade of blue and snug over her shoulders and waist, flaring at her hips into a full skirt.

"It's only fair you didn't know what to bring since I didn't give you a list," she told him, walking over to her box and opening it. She withdrew the blank ledger and the smaller book she had packed. Crossing the room in a few long, graceful strides, she handed him the blank ledger as she sat down opposite him. "This is a gift for you, but before you are too terribly excited by my generosity, it's to help you keep track of your finances. When my mother passed away, I found one she had kept of our family accounting, and it was indispensable in helping me learn and stay organized myself." She held up and opened the smaller book she had brought with her and thumbed through the pages, showing that each piece of parchment was covered in neatly inked notes and figures.

Silke leaned back in her chair and crossed one ankle over the other as she evaluated him for a moment silently. Galt had seemed hesitant to accept her proposal a few days prior, so she was a touch surprised that he was so eager and anxious. Perhaps he was the sort of man that needed to commit to a plan before he could truly invest himself. It was a welcome change, however, and she wasn't about to look a proverbial gift horse in the mouth.

"After we spoke it occurred to me we should start with one of the fundamentals that affects you the most at present. Your estate is still being finished, so you have a rare opportunity to master the basics before you're managing a new household. Don't get me wrong, the politics of the courts is equally important, as are riding lessons," she added with a hint of humor and sparkle of her eye, "but I imagine those can wait a little longer. Getting your new residence in order is also an excellent excuse to miss social obligations until you're ready. Not that you'll have any shortage of invitations," Silke mused aloud.

Since their parting the night they had met, she hadn't been able to avoid all the gossip circulating the newest eligible bachelor. Those who considered themselves her friends were cautious about expressing their interest in Galt. Silke had denied that she harbored any romantic affections for anyone in particular, but many ladies remained suspicious, and that had created its own stir. Daughters of barons, counts, and other prominent members of the nobility saw it as a chance to either compete against the 'darling' of the court. He could be aloof and distance for the first couple weeks of his appointment, but the women would not wait overly long, and soon they would pursue him with renewed vigor unless he tarnished his image in some way.

"There is something else that occurred to me when I was preparing to visit you today. You are now newly wealthy. As you saw when you rescued the duke, having wealth does make you a target. The bandits you saved the duke from- is there any chance that they will seek you out now, for revenge, or out of jealousy over what you've gained?" Silke lifted her eyes from the book in her hands to meet his gaze. She wasn't rude enough to outright accuse him of being part of the brigands; whether he was or not wasn't of any real importance to her. What she sought was information about what had become of them... a detail curiously omitted from the tales she had been told.
There was (in her mind) an unnecessary amount of time spent consoling her father and brother. Silke was astute enough to be aware of the reasons behind their probing questions. They were both exceedingly overprotective of her despite realizing she could take care of herself. She tolerated their anxiety because she knew that, though they never spoke of it, the loss of Countess Rosamund Kasper and Alistair Kasper had made them a touch paranoid about her health and safety. Both men were passively aware of the fact she shunned all romance, however, so they believed all her reassurances that she had no romantic intentions whatsoever. The gleam in her eye when she spoke of educating him on manners of politics, finance, and management was arguably her most persuasive argument that there would be no adoring gazes exchange. Vincent especially had a hard time imagining any of his friends being dazzled by her business acumen.

Instead of riding one of her horses to the palace, she had arranged for one of their estate's carriages to take her. The driver would have accommodation from the royal staff so long as she was visiting and the horses could be unhitched and refreshed while they waited. Besides the convenience of the carriage, it was a practical necessity, as she had packed two large tomes and one smaller book, a few scrolls, and had secured a blank ledger for him, all of which would be gifts of sorts to help propel him on his studies. These documents had been packed inside a small chest for transport.

She glanced out her window as she arrived and let out a soft sigh. For a few years now she had been driven towards this singular goal of creating a steadfast ally, someone who could stand tall and firm among the nobility, who would bolster all of them and be the support her family needed when she was gone. Now that he arrived in the form of Galt (or at least she hoped), she found herself both excited and strangely depressed. Once she tutored him and boosted him to a higher position, she'd lose her purpose. She would lose her anchoring passion and be adrift and alone, more than she already was, and that was a frightening thought.

As the carriage rolled to a stop, she pulled aside the curtain to glance into the courtyard, spotting a steward running up to greet them. Her driver stepped down from his seat, rapped on the door lightly, and opened it. "We've arrived, my lady." He reached over for the parcel with the books and scrolls and handed them to the nearest guard while the steward escorted Silke out of the carriage. Previously slumped shoulders had straightened, her apathetic expression was a flawless mask of congeniality, and she forced herself out of her melancholic disposition.

"Lady Kasper, is it good to see you looking well," the steward intoned as he began leading the way towards the 'Silver Tower' where Galt was waiting for her. It was a strange place to have an audience, but he had learned long ago that his opinion meant absolutely nothing to the aristocracy, and they would act however it pleased them. He was, however, curious about the pair. Rumors had only intensified in the last few days that the elusive Silke had been charmed by the roguishly handsome new count. That was, after all, what most of her peers would dream of- falling madly in love with an eligible bachelor that would return their affections.

"Even if it's been only three days, it's been too long," she replied with a large smile. "I can't imagine how taxing it must have been for the staff to clean up after the festivities," Silke empathized sincerely. "You'll have to teach me some of your secrets for how all of you move so quickly. When Vincent returns late at night from travel or a hunt that has run long, he's an absolute bear to tidy up after."

"Surely you don't clean yourself!" the steward replied in alarm, successfully diverted from his wild speculation from Silke and Galt. Their guard companion also seemed concerned gauging from his knitted brows.

"I do try," she answered with a cheeky grin, leaning a bit closer. "It's hard for me to sleep when I know he'll be returning that evening, and our staff are all such diligent workers. The least I can do is look after my fool of an elder brother now and again," she said with a wink.
Though she had made the comparison, it felt odd to hear him refer to her as a tutor aloud. As best as she could tell, Galt wasn't that much older than her, if he was at all. Silke was torn between two trains of thought when it came to age. On one hand, more years under one's belt typically added to experience and worldliness, and it was easier for two individuals of comparable age to find a common ground than if there was a large gap. On the other hand, the time one spent on the earth did not always coincide with maturity. There were noblemen and noblewomen with all the wisdom of a spoiled toddler and teenage peasants who were as cunning and sharp as someone twice their age, if not more. Regardless, it was quickly becoming apparent that teaching one of her peers would be stranger in practice had anticipated when she crafted her plan.

Wandering thoughts about their dynamic were stopped cold as he continued to praise her on how she'd be an excellent wife, upping his compliment to include that she'd even be a great queen. Silke felt a pang of guilt for receiving such undeserved flattery. There was nothing she could say or do to politely dispel the illusion. What she felt were admissions she could only shamefully acknowledge in her mind, never state aloud, and certainly never in the company others. She couldn't speak of how she lay awake at night remembering the way her father's face twisted in grief for weeks as she picked up the shattered pieces of their life. Her parents had been madly in love and thus the loss of her mother had been devastating. When her brother died, the knife in her heart twisted, and she was convinced she was cursed. It was superstitious paranoia, but the 'expendable' people in her family had died except for her, and she could not shake the conviction she was next.

"I'm sure you'll be a quick study," she reassured him as she regained her footing in the conversation. It was far from traditional for a woman to be handling the finances of an estate. Silke wasn't aware of any other woman of her stature doing so unless they were a widow without a son or a male relative to provide assistance. She counted herself fortunate that she had been allowed the latitude to learn accounting. Being poor at a subject was one thing, so long as it was tried, but willful ignorance was rather repugnant to her.

The request for honesty took her for surprise and she faltered. Her horse, sensing her uneasiness, stamped the ground as her hesitation grew into a silence after that singular word question. She had always prided herself on her social skills. Generally she could sense what people truly wanted and appeal to them in kind. They would claim they wanted honesty, as Galt had, yet very rarely were they prepared for it. The truth, without tempering, softening, or warping, could be unkind, unforgiving, and unpleasant. Transparency exposed beauty and ugliness without bias, and Silke was not to arrogant to believe that she could be counted among the former only.

"I can understand your trepidation given your background," she began slowly. Galt's offer was tempting. If she would ever think to indulge such a proposal it would be to someone so roguishly handsome and charming. "Just as you fear you would disappoint me, so must I disappoint you. It would be too much to ask anyone to trust a stranger is genuinely acting out of friendliness," Silke continued, "but on personal matters... I can not provide absolute honestly. We all wrestle with ourselves, and what I keep to myself will not be related to you or my helping you."

It was the best Silke could offer. She didn't have friends, not the type of friends Galt was surely talking about. Of all the ladies that followed her skirts through every event, none of them had heart-to-heart conversations with her, shared her burdens, or stayed with her when she was sick. They cared about one another- just not intimately. They sent presents to one another for birthdays, gave advice, and provided company, but she'd struggle to call a single one a confidant. When Alistair died, so had her closest relationship, and perhaps she had not ever recovered enough to allow herself the vulnerability necessary to be a true friend.
A smile alighted on her lips as Galt asserted only a fool or a madman would think she could be dissuaded. It wasn't exactly the enthusiastic endorsement she would have liked, but his characterization of her determination was nonetheless amusing. Silke did not intend to strong-arm her companion into accepting her offer; she was trying to be persuasive without being coercive. All too often she had experienced the latter with male members of the nobility. Once it became clear she was the woman pulling the strings of her household, and essentially the power behind her father's title, certain aristocrats had tried to brow beat her into heeding their advice and suggestions. She had not, of course, but it made her duly cautious not to catch herself exhibiting the same behavior.

Though concerns about whether she had pressured him into acceptance lingered at the edges of her mind, she couldn't help but giggle a little to herself at his fanciful imagining of how she'd help him climb to greatness. Truthfully he made it sound much more exciting than the reality. Still listening to him quietly, she reached over and helped him stop his horse as she checked her own. Without the sounds of their mares' hoof beats on the worn road, silence enveloped them, adding a gravitas to their conversation. Silke shifted in her saddle. Rationally she knew she was doing nothing the wrong. The stillness of the forest, the dark night, the fog, and their isolation made it feel almost taboo.

Galt's forthright comments about his future flirtations made her raise her brows. That, more than anything else he had said thus far, had been a surprise. Men didn't exactly volunteer that they weren't the marrying type. Commoners could remain unwed, but for a nobleman was unheard of, and any misgivings they had about entering into a holy union went unspoken. There was an obligation to take a wife and produce an heir. There were outliers, those who had only daughters, who lost their spouse, or were childless, but they hadn't simply shrugged off the responsibility itself without a pretense of trying to fulfill their duty. That he was also willing and able to discuss flirting left her momentarily speechless.

Closing her eyes to compose herself, she took a deep breath. A small puff of warm air formed as she exhaled slowly and turned to him, organizing her thoughts. "Perhaps it is best to think of me as your tutor. It is up to how you would prefer to facilitate our arrangement," she explained. "My goal is less to create an alliance so much as it to elevate you to a higher position. I'll help you learn about all the members of nobility, their biases and weaknesses, what political clout and power they wield, and how to best interact with them. I will give you advice, but it will ultimately be your choice whether you heed it. There is also the subject of your financial assets. You'll need some instruction on how to manage your estate." Silke paused a second to let everything sink in. There was more to be taught than she had outlined, yet she thought it best to start with the most important broad strokes, the ones that would be most pivotal to his success.

"As for your... romantic proclivities," she began. Silke had to stop and clear her throat as a blush colored her cheeks. Rarely someone was so attractive to her that she struggled to find a way to stave off their overtures. She knew she had to firmly lay out her boundaries, but she was conflicted, and had to fight herself on committing to stating them aloud. Galt was a more tempting prospect than he would ever realize. "Marriage is an expectation of lords, so I would not proclaim you're not the type. There are many lovely ladies of the court that would be truly blessed to have you as their husband," she told him sincerely.

Tilting her head back to the sky, she pondered her word choice for the millionth time. When she wasn't looking at him it was remarkably easier to divorce herself from the realization she was verbally resigning herself to loneliness, to not giving him a chance to be that dazzling, dashing, heroic, handsome man that the younger Silke dreamed of. "I am myself have an issue of... compatibility," she said more softly with a melancholy tone. "I am glad you value our friendship and you may speak however you like; I only wish for you to chase your own happiness."

"Ah," she exclaimed, recalling she hadn't answered what she stood to gain. "In return for my assistance, I only ask that in the future, should you be able, you use whatever power you gain to help my father and brother should they need it. They may never need it, but I worry about them incessantly," she said with a brilliant smile. It was apparent from the change in her voice that adored her family, speaking of them with warm affection.
One slender brow arched in amusement as he called her a 'complication.' Silke noted both the subtle and obvious flirtations interwoven in his response, though she was careful not to outwardly react. Galt was handsome and, paired with his heroic story of saving a duke from bandits, could have won over many women. Neither of those were what made him particularly dangerous to her. It was his wealth of charisma that would be her greatest challenge to gently rebuff. She liked what she had seen and heard from him thus far; he was direct, honest, witty, and humble. The newly appointed count was a man that deserved a woman that was still able to dream and hope for a future of marital bliss.

A wry smile twisted upon her lips at his assessment that she didn't seem to want anything of the nobles. He was both correct and incorrect. For the nobility, the vast majority of them assumed that she was secretly as selfish as they were, and was simply more adept at concealing her agenda than they were at uncovering it. They and Galt and were both wrong in very different ways. Silke did want something, just not for herself, and all of her manipulations were her orchestrations for the benefit of her father and brother. On a larger scale, they did impact her positively, though that was a side effect rather than the intention. One day she would be gone, her life at eternal rest, and she needed the peace of mind they would survive beyond.

"You're already playing in a great game," Silke asserted smoothly, unbothered by the fact he had refused her implied offer. "As the king's attention shifts off of you over in another fortnight or two, other men of the realm will increasingly invite you to dinners, hunts, and other such engagements. Nobility with riches and titles are almost engaged in form of politics. You could, of course, reject their social overtures and try to keep to yourself, but make no mistake, absolutely neutrality is not easily maintained. So long as you remain close to Valdemar, his unassailable duke title will protect you, though it will not be absolute." She didn't want to breed paranoia in her companion; however, she felt compelled to impart on him that being a count for the rest of his life wasn't as guaranteed as he might believe.

"You may also be required to turn a blind eye to those more like your seven-year-old self as well, and those in worse plights, to maintain that neutrality," she mused aloud casually. It was true she didn't understand the hardship he endured as a young child. Silke had been born into a loving family where all her needs and wants had been met. When her mother and second-eldest brother had died she learned how trauma could make one incredibly aware of similar suffering in others. She attended every funeral she went to and found herself hyper-aware of girls without maternal figures. She strongly suspected that Galt was the same way when he saw boys that reminded him of himself.

"You are still alive, are you not?" she then asked, without waiting for an answer. "Only the dead and buried are incapable of being taught. I suppose one could argue that an invalid also could not learn, but it's too late to be feigning stupidity, don't you think?" Silke teased.

Reaching over, she took hold of his reins with one hand, clicking her tongue to stop his mare as her own stood in place. She had an important point to make and she wanted to make absolutely certain he listened without the distraction of his horse. "We both know you didn't tell the whole story of the duke's rescue. Can you honestly tell me, and yourself, that escaping him with easier than saving just yourself? That in the moment you calculated for how Duke Valdemar would thank you, how the king would thank you, and that was your only motivation? I will concede I could be wrong, but I believe you acted on instinct," she said as her steady gaze locked onto his unflinchingly. "You took a risk. How many of your former friends would have done the same? How many of the men you met tonight?"

Silke released the reins and pushed a wisp of hair out of her face that had fallen across a cheek. She laughed lightly to herself with a hint of bitterness that bled through. "I assure you I am not what many men are looking for, though I thank you for thinking I am worthy of such attention. They want the idea of me, a wife because they have need, or a prize to be won in a challenge where all their friends have thus failed. If you think I am too severe, at the next social event ask any of them my favorite color, or flower, or constellation, or instrument, or hobby."

She was jaded before she was eligible for courtship and marriage. It became worse as time wore on. Men of lords, barons, counts, and dukes expected women to be enamored with the prestige of their upbringing, to be awed by the sheer consideration of someone of their status. Silke had been smitten with a few here and there that were handsome and charming like Galt, but her feelings usually faded as it became apparent any relationship would be her bending and yielding to their desires, and letting them make every decision without input.
The evening had proved to be quite productive and left Silke in good spirits by the time she was astride her mare. Admittedly she had drank more wine than she had eaten, which meant she would have quite the headache tomorrow if she didn't have an after-feast snack, but the business proposition from Count Schaude had bolstered her spirits after the spat with Vildraven. It was a shame neither her father nor her brother had any talent for diplomacy or negotiation. Her father was a brilliant, generous man, who was quite aware that he could be taken advantage of financially by manipulative persons, and so he had become relatively paranoid about engaging in new endeavors. By contrast, her brother was a shrewd man who understood the figures but did not possess the social graces to navigate more beneficial agreements. If it appeared too good to be true he dismissed it, and if if the numbers didn't rise to his high standards he dismissed it, without even attempting to broker a better trade.

Thoughts of precious stones, investments, and laborers were chased out of her mind as Galt cleared his throat, presumably to gain her attention. Silke had been leading the way and politely ignoring the poor horsemanship of her companion. It would have been more shocking if he was a skilled equestrian given his commoner background. Riding in her gown was a touch awkward, though it was a small price to pay for the freedom she enjoyed when it was her, a steed, and an empty road. She did did a cursory glance of her surroundings to ensure she knew where they were relative to her home.

The noblewoman reigned in her mare to slow its speed to a more comfortable trot when Galt started to speak and abruptly bolted ahead. Her horse seemed to be as confused as she was. They came to a brief stop before catching up to the newly christened count. Silke couldn't help but smile at his struggles. There was something decidedly refreshing about being in the presence of someone who was not a perfect veneer of composure. Much as she adored the courts in her own way, they could be taxing after a while, both emotionally and mentally. Here where the cool breeze stirred leaves in the trees, and where owls could be hooting a short distance away, it was easier to be human.

"I wouldn't be interested in any man who was won over by batting eyelashes and coy games," she said with amusement in her voice. "For your own sake, I do hope you're careful around the ladies. If you do anything more than have a nice conversation, their fathers will either hastily rush you to exchange vows, threaten your life, or both. One of my brothers, Alistair, came very close several times to being forced into a wedding," Silke added with a fond laugh at the memory.

Noticeably she didn't divulge anything regarding her romantic intentions. As much as she tried to be woman who was indifferent and distant to would-be suitors, she had feelings and wants when it came to affection; rather than act on them, however, she kept them suppressed. She noticed handsome men, such as Galt, as it would have been impossible to ignore them. Whenever an eligible bachelor (and some who were not) approached her that suited her ideals, her breath would catch in her throat and she would fight to bury the attraction. It wasn't always successful.

"As you know, titles are passed from father to son or, should he lack a son, to another male relative. To give credit where credit is due, there are many members of the nobility where there is some benefit to this system, or it at least doesn't create a sizeable issue. Heirs are groomed for the role and their peers, as well as the royalty, help hold fellow aristocrats accountable. That being said," she sighed, "there is definite room for improvement. I'm of the opinion that a new face or two could help effectuate certain changes. I also have personal reasons for wishing to forge strong allies where I see potential." Silke cast an appraising look at him, wondering not for the first time if he could be bolstered into a higher station than a count. More importantly, she considered whether he would reward her help and trust in the way she envisioned.

"I am intrigued to know how you find me impressive. Is it because I have the respect of Count Schaude or because of the extraordinary gossip the older duchesses enjoy spreading about me? A few years ago one dowager claimed my knowledge of commerce could only be explained through supernatural possession," she laughed.
The quip about a wise man elicited a singular, elegant raised brow from Silke. She wasn't quite certain if he was trying to flirt with her or not; honestly, the only consistent thing about men was how inconsistent they were with their overtures. More likely than not he was trying to sidestep the question with his considerable charm. There was no reason for him to have romantic interest in her: he had his choice of any number of excitable, curious, prettier younger ladies, and he wasn't competing with other nobleman to see who'd win a bet as to who could win her over. The fact his response hadn't been straightforward told her all she needed to know. Galt had a taste for more, although what precise ambition he held eluded her yet.

That he was not deterred by her jilted suitors was briefly fascinating- until he made a comparison to his life on the streets. Silke couldn't and wouldn't pretend she understood what it must be like to struggle to eat or be safe. That wasn't to say that she wasn't without her struggles. As a woman, she was a second class citizen in many ways, underestimated and passed over in favor of a man, and she had deep scars from the death of her mother and brother. While she didn't doubt he was cunning, he was ignorant of the cutthroat nature of the courts, and the stark contrast it had compared to other social circles. He was too cavalier about the threats all around him.

Silke gave no indication she heard Galt's words spoken into his cup. Valdemar interrupted before she could make any sort of reply and she somewhat relished the notion of leaving him hanging, wondering if he had scared her off with his glimpse of severity. Her countenance had been impassive, her eyes as clear and controlled as the rest of her, when he had lost his grin. Only an individual that valued themselves could be scared and, as someone who was apathetic to her future, she was difficult to frighten.

"Lady Silke, it is good to see you!" greeted a man in a slightly pompous tone as he approached their seats at the table. He was a handsome man just shy of his forties dressed in navy blue and burgundy, colors that were understated in the current environment. All of his perfectly coiffed hair was a pleasant hazelnut brown streaked with gray at the temples that only served to make him seem more refined. Galt may have taken care to remember Count Gregor Schaude in particular as he was the wealthiest of all the counts by a substantial margin. His family lineage had a reputation of creating shrewd, cunning men, who were ruthless when crossed. Rumors circulated that his grandfather and father had a habit of torturing any thieves caught on their lands.

It had been lamented by Count Schaude, in the presence of others, how cruel fate was that Lady Silke had not been born earlier or he later. He had wed years before she reached maturity and his sons had not begun puberty. The count had bemoaned his inability to bring Silke into his family. No one mistook his exclamations to mean he was in love with the younger woman; rather, he admired her silver tongue and business acumen and was deeply disappointed her genetics wouldn't contribute to future generations of Schaude.

"Count Schadue, may I introduce you to Count Harrowmark?" she said with a graceful gesture.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Count Schaude said to Galt with a small bow of the head. His flat, perfunctory tone and the small bow of his head were the bare minimum required by protocol. There was no malice from Count Schaude, he just did not care about any new nobleman unless there was something they could do for him, which Galt could not.

Turning back to Silke, Count Schaude smiled warmly, with as much professional affection as he showed anyone in the court. "May I borrow your company for a spell, Lady Silke? There is a business matter I intend to broach with Duke Deduan and your father, and it occurs to me I'd much benefit from your presence during those discussions." It was not the sort of conversation most women would be privy to and, if they were, they'd stand quietly and listen with idle minds. She was, however, quite astute in political and socioeconomic matters, and so she had been increasingly invited by more liberal aristocrats to partake, especially when her advice and help had proved advantageous.

For half a second Silke considered declining. If she were to depart Galt's company now, he'd be alone with Duke Valdemar and the king, without her knowledge or experience to smooth over any stumbles. Her mind flickered back to the confidence he had displayed when she had warned him about her previous would-be suitors. Since he was so certain of himself, she would let him sink, swim, or at least discover if he had any deficiencies. As the guest of honor, any mistakes he made would be overlooked for the most part, so it was his best opportunity to learn.

"Of course, Count Schaude. I'm sure Galt will manage spectacularly without me," she said. She hoped the other women of the court swarmed him with all their coy games, because he'd quickly find ladies would demand commitment for anything more than a kiss, if that. Silke had overheard her brother griping about how insufferable he found the teasing and flirting when nothing could be done without taking a wife. "Is this about that newly discovered gem mine?" she asked Count Schaude with a smile of her own.

"Ah, quick as always Lady Silke!" he grinned. "Your majesty, Duke Valdemar, Count Harrowmark," he added, bowing deeply before circling to Silke and taking her arm, leading her away with formal elegance.

"She's always been such an odd woman," an older lady a few seats down grumbled under her breath. Not everyone appreciated how Silke challenged the status quo.
"We all have our struggles," Silke said graciously towards Duke Valdemar in regards to his son, "and life lessons that must be taught to us several times over before we learn to honor the virtues." It was a truth that sounded a bit bizarre coming out of the lips of someone so young. Loss had aged her considerably. Without a mother, despite all the staff they had at their home, she had to step into the role of family matriarch. Much of the court had become gradually aware how much her steady hand guided Count Johann Kasper and Lord Vincent Kasper.

With the duke and king monetarily distracted, she leaned forward and spoke more quietly to Galt, allowing the ambient noise of the room to create a veil of privacy for them. "I'm curious what further ambition you have for yourself," she told the newly christened count. Her gaze was calm and steady as she studied him. Even if he elected not to answer, she hoped he might react, and through body language she might glean if he wished for more or if he was truly satisfied with his title, wanting nothing more. Silke wasn't absolutely confident she'd read him perfectly nor that he'd respond in a meaningful way; however, it was worth a try.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught more people staring at them. Not all of them were as obviously hostile as Vildraven, but it brought to mind she ought to warn Galt. It was a delicate topic to navigate. She was unwilling to delve into how many romantic overtures she had rejected outright. There were enough proud men that kept her refusal to herself that she was a court oddity without any negative connotation. If she were to allude to the true number, though, there was a chance she'd evolve from an endearing enigma to a troubled spinster. Silke had to thread the figurative needle as carefully as was possible.

"There's a confession I must make before we continue. Vildraven is not the only man I've rebuffed. Happy as I am to keep you company this evening and facilitate introductions to whomever you desire, my prolonged presence may make certain lords... displeased," she stated. Galt was a shrewd man. The hint ought to give him an inkling of what he was suggesting. If nothing else, it would make him more aware of the nature of the gazes upon his person, and why his peers may be less friendly than the ladies or older gentlemen of the aristocracy.

Royal staff stopped by their table to refill drinks. Silke had drained her wine and had another generous serving poured into her empty cup. For better or worse, she had learned to hold her liquor with her father and two elder brothers growing up. Her mother would have disapproved, but the combination of Silke's silver tongue, pragmatic approach to managing the Kasper family, and ability to men her age drink for drink had helped bridge a surprising amount of social divides.
The king's entrance did not draw her attention as much as perhaps it should have. She respected the man, and held his governance in high esteem, but she had seen him plenty of times before. Galt was comparatively much more interesting. He was an unknown quantity and she was keen to discern what rumors already circulating the court were based in truth and what were the result of wild speculation. There also little that the attention of their monarch could do for nor she for him; she was without ambition for higher status and he would not have granted it to her as a woman.

Having already resigned herself to a very short private conversation with Galt, Silke was disappointed but not surprised when they were interrupted by the king's summons, and was prepared to step back so the new count could present himself. The proffered arm, however, took her entirely by surprise. As a woman who prided herself on her powers of perception, she was ashamed to admit that she hadn't anticipated his reaction, and that his wish for her to accompany him was unexpected. Internally she cursed to herself. There was no opportunity to explain herself. If she rejected him at that moment, it would reflect badly on them both, but to accept could have far-reaching consequences personally and politically.

Silke hesitated. Taking his arm filled her with dread for the discussion they'd inevitably have later regarding their respective intentions. She didn't know how many times she had to gently refute a man's romantic overtures. Since being honest about her reasons was not an option, she would get to know a suitor long enough to find an excuse, one sturdy enough to dissuade further attempts, that she would then present as proof of incompatibility. Most titled lords had egos large enough to handle being turned away and she did not feel guilty for doing so. Arguably a lady telling them, 'No,' did them more good than harm. There were a few, though, that tugged at her heartstrings, genuinely distraught over what they believed was defects in their person.

They were greeted by the king, who said the same predictably pleasant things he always did, and Galt had the sense to bow when she curtsied. A smile was planted on her lips, face belying none of her inner turmoil. Out of the corner of her eye she could see less composed members of the court watching them. Older, more gossipy matrons were visibly smug in the knowledge that no one, not even the elusive Silke Kasper, could avoid potential matches. Her peers were besides themselves with glee at the exciting story of Count Harrowmark, a newcomer hero, making such an impression on their mysteriously unattached friend. It was the gaze of the younger gentleman, those who saw her as challenge to be conquered, or who were chafed at her rejections, that worried her. Fortunately, many men whom she had turned away had moved on and found their happiness, and some others never cared to make advances on her, but there were plenty that were glaring or barely concealing their contempt.

Galt asked if Silke could sit with him. If she hadn't been such an exemplary courtier, she would have either laughed, vomited, or fainted, hopefully not all at once. For half a second she fervently wished she could sink into the floor and disappear. It was equal parts amazing and terrifying that he unconsciously navigated from her from minor crisis to disaster, blissfully ignorant all the while, yet maintaining perfect precision for creating as much calamity as possible. Her arm stiffened against his as she tensed and braced herself for figurative impact.

Mentally a stream of very unladylike words described her feelings on the situation.

And then, because fortune itself must despise her with the intensity of a thousand suns, it came to bear that she was taking Vildraven's seat. The ducal son was not the sort that liked to share. Galt's appearance in his father's life in the form of a young, dashing savior, must have made him unsettled to say the least. As the eldest son, heir to a fortune and an enviable title, he had a rampaging sense of entitlement. Silke was confident that Vildraven would be wretchedly jealous of Galt for being so adored by the duke, having the praise of the king, and being touted as an icon of courage and selflessness.

As luck would have it, he was also someone whom Silke had rejected (twice since he did not take her first refusal seriously). She sucked in her breath as Vildraven's tantrum was cut off by the two men whose approval and affection he most craved, and their eyes met briefly before he retreated into the mass of well-dressed lords and ladies. It wasn't over. Everyone else might have considered the matter settled, but she knew Vildraven well enough to know that he would fight to the bitter end to take back what he believed had been stolen from him by Galt. Unfortunately, that included her, and there was nothing she could do to stop what had been started.

When they finally sat down at the table her stomach, which had lurched into her throat minutes earlier, had resettled. Silke recognized that Galt was not the best at small talk so she led the conversations with Valdemar and his majesty, all while managing not to seem as if she were doing so. For the duke she inquired about his recovery after his ordeal, congratulated him and his wife on a recent anniversary, and complimented on their taste in attire, admiring the duchess's exquisite jewelry. The king and she chatted about a hunt he held a fortnight ago and a couple pieces of artwork he had commissioned and placed in the royal gallery. She was going through the motions, smiling brilliantly, and being her charming self, and quietly trying to find a solution to her romantic predicament.

Picking up a piece of bread, Silke listened quietly as Galt was finally afforded an opportunity to answer her question from earlier. There was an intensity to her gaze and a sympathetic turn of her lips as he stumbled over his sentences. He was no master deceiver. The facts, as he presented them, didn't quite add up. As a man of poor, unremarkable background, there was no reason for the bandits to take him prisoner, and Galt failed to pro-actively insert rationale. Master manipulator that she was, she knew that for someone possessed of a sharp wit, this omission could damage him- it would be better to have a fabrication prepared if he came under a verbal interrogation. "Quite curious they'd tie you up," she remarked, leaning in, a playful twinkle in her eye conveying she'd caught the slip. "You may want to... polish that portion of your retelling before you recount it again," the noblewoman suggested.

As if on cue, that damnable Vildraven, who had been seated on the other side of her to preserve the seating arrangement to the best of the royal staff's ability, cleared his throat. He had not been eavesdropping since he didn't care about Galt. His interruption was merely to gain Silke's attention to aggressively reassert himself. Groaning under her breath (she was in close enough proximity to Galt he likely heard her), she leaned back in her chair and turned her head toward the insufferable ducal son, a more stiff smile plastered on her face than had been there a second prior.

"Lady Silke," he began, "I would be honored to be your escort for the rest of evening. Surely Count Galt had other ladies of the court he would like to meet after he's had a chance to dine." It sounded like a gracious gesture, advantageous to them both, but she wasn't naive enough to take the bait.

"How very generous of you, Lord Vildraven, but I must decline," she replied sweetly, though her eyes were as cold as ice. "I've already promised Count Galt to facilitate certain introductions." It was a bold-faced lie that she delivered with aplomb. There was no dip or flinch in her voice, her body language remained as still as when she was honest, and it was utterly indistinguishable to anyone other than herself and Galt as a falsehood. Silke realized she was taking a risk exposing her gift to her companion; however, being trapped with Vildraven as her escort was the least desirable outcome.

"How dare you-," he growled in a low tone that did not carry to the rest of the table.

"Careful," Silke chided cheerfully, "for my brother Vincent is watching, and I'd hate for him to misinterpret your actions as hostility. He has a short temper and is quite skilled with a blade," she added, feigning concern for his well-being so adeptly that Vildraven was unable to distinguish if she was sincerely worried about his health. "Why, he's looking over here right this moment," she said as she gave a small wave to her family.
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