Cedric
Bastien de Lysse
Maith Mansion

Bastien was not too overtly fond of being stared at. Perhaps he should have considered that, before wandering out into the streets after he had won a huge jousting tournament.

Originally, he wished to simply take a bath and rest in bed before the impeding, dark looming cloud of a large ball enveloped him. However, after he had taken his bath (in Maith mansion, thank the gods, not in a bustling bathhouse) and was glistening clean, donned in his airy white shirt and light brown pants, he turned to Claude with a frown.

"Pie," He said gravely.

Claude's dark eyebrows rose slightly, as his eyes flicked from Bastien, to the other side of the room, then back at Bastien. "Piiieeee," He repeated slowly, with a nod. It was clear he had no idea what Bastien was talking about.

"Yes." Bastien crossed his arms, a frustrated look on his face as he glared down at the floor. "I'm craving a pie."

"Ah. I thought-"

"I didn't ask what you thought." Bastien went over and grabbed a small, heavy coin pouch, tying it around his belt before putting on his boots. 

Claude seemed unbothered, even slightly amused, at Bastien's curt reply. His lips curled into a grin as he watched her employer prepare to depart. "You're serious about this. You're going out. For pie."

"Yes," Bastien said, narrowing his dark indigo eyes at the uniformed man. Claude knew how vicious Bastien's sweet tooth could be. "Do you have a problem with that?" 

Claude shrugged casually, a smile still on his lips. "I mean, you'll garner a lot of attention. Why not ask a servant to bring some pie to you? Maybe a pretty lady will bring it." He clicked his tongue twice, wiggling his eyebrows as he gave Bastien's arm a light nudge with his elbow. "Maybe you'd get a side of-"

His sentence was cut off as Bastien sharply cuffed the back of his head.

** **
"Aaaaah, that hurt~!" Claude said, though he didn't sound too bothered as he rubbed the back of his head. "The abuse I put up with for this job is unbelievable."

"Keep talking," Bastien said as he opened the door to his room. His eyes glittered dangerously. "There's plenty more where that came from. Stay here and watch my things."

As Bastien walked away, Claude watched. When the former disappeared out of view, the latter let out a faint whistle under his breath, a grin on his face. Those pants looked quite nice on Bastien.
———

Tonate Proper | The Shrouds

Bastien regretted going out about three minutes after he had left the Mansion. The streets were lively and bustling with people. Despite the numerous vendors selling foods, pastries, and the like, he had yet to find a pie. Eyes traveled him everywhere, and at least thirty people had asked him, "Are you the Raven Knight??" To which he gave a flat, "No."

"But ye look lik'im," The little girl said, the latest bother. She was cute in a scraggly way, her dark braids messy and unkempt. She licked her lips, showing off her two front missing teeth. "Yer hair be weird, like 'ims. An' yer asent."

"Yes, I get that a lot," Bastien said, his voice deadpan as he glanced around. Still no pie in sight. A blue cobalt dress caught his eye in the corner on his left. One of familiar color and style. *'That's odd.'* He looked back down at the little girl. "Have a good evening," He told her.

"Yea, okay," The little girl said, sounding like she didn't believe a word he said about not being the Raven Knight. She turned away, and Bastien looked around. The cobalt dress was nowhere in view.

With a sigh of defeat under his breath, he glanced both ways and then went left, heads turning to gaze at him. He ignored them. Perhaps there was pie in this direction. Though, now that wasn't the only thing currently on Bastien's mind.
Tom
Calypso Kolgrim 

Tonate Proper | The Shrouds


"300 golds"

"150," Stated Calypso firmly, not even looking up at the old woman.
"You keep getting lower!" Shouted in exasperation the merchant ." This is not how negotiation works lady!" Scolded the old woman pointing a fat finger at her face. Calypso expression didn't betray any emotion other than that of pure boredom "I'm just offering you to pay the actual value of your merch." Stated the terresolian lady while passing the soft fabric between her manicured fingers, pinching it between her thumb and forefinger, examining the green cloth with cautious onyx eyes.

A large smirk stretched the coral lips of the older woman" You know dear, you do not have to feel ashamed if you don't have the money to pay. " Purred her with a mischievous glim in her eyes" We can surely find a compromise..." Calypso felt her pride sting at that comment. 

" Your earrings for example! " Exclaimed her jovial, Calypso's hand flew to her left ear, covering the jewel, like if she was afraid that the merchant would rip it from her lobe " They will surely be more than enough to cover the cost of the fabric!" Smiled the woman, a smile that radiates greed and satisfaction in having pinned the younger woman. Calypso did her best to not frown, maintaining that bored and distant expression.

To speak in all honesty, Calypso had the money, but she also had limited resources. Most of the clothes and jewelry she owned were previous to her father's death, who had left her a small fortune, but she never touched it, leaving it for emergency... Or as a dowry. 
So she was left with the salary that lord De Lysse was paying her for day-to-day life. Which was by no means low but not enough to sustain too many luxuries, and Calypso had already had to make a big purchase in light of the ball. The purse was tight right now.
Marguerite
Catarina Tanner
The Mizzen, Tonate Proper

She nodded slightly at that, and after that, she fell silent. It was a bit of a strange silence, somewhat stilted and stiff in the sense that she was still uncomfortable with some of the things he had said. Typically, the two of them were constantly bickering and bantering, with many a sharp word slung between the two of them. Now it was quiet... Yet it was not the sort of silence where they were both waiting for the other to say something, so in that sense it was a comfortable silence. A silence that she didn't want to end.

The walk remained uneventful after that, and finally they arrived. Her heartrate quickened slightly as they approached the door, her hands getting a bit clammy and sweaty. She was, most certainly, out of her depth here.
Felicia
Cyprien de Lysse | The Mizzen

The king announced his guests would be return to the castle aboard a pleasure barge, and Cyprien thought it could not arrive a moment too soon. Bastien's grand reveal turned out to have the unpleasant consequence of drawing the attention of every highborn matron in Tonate. Now a swarm of cockatoos had gathered around Cyprien, pressuring him to arrange a meeting between Bastien and their daughters. As if.
The hier of House de Lysse was beyond their league. Tonate could a be magnificent city of rustic buildings and colored roads, but the Isles remained a distant backwater tucked in the very edge of the world. Besides, the puny dowries they offered were not even enough to purchase a cohort of mercenaries.

Thinking of soldiers and dowries made Cyprien recall his father in his later days. Old, sitting in his study, covered in a velvet blanket that the man later ordered to replace for one of his war banners. _"A man is not rich unless he can raise an army at his own expense," _ he used to say. Cyprien had interpreted it as an advice on the importance of wealth, but with every passing decade he was less and less confident of having learned the right lesson. The fortune of the Grey Hills for instance, had not proven enough to convince the populace to enlist. In the end, the House had to ressort ot forced conscription. By comparaison, John the Burgh didn't need a fortune to raise his legion, only that ever-present aura of fear that makes the regalia of tyrants.

No. The true test to his mettle would be in the upcoming ball. Negotiating with Caderyn and the King of Ibethiel, perhaps even Maith as well.

"Go fetch our present and bring it to the castle," He told one of the servants. "And be sure it gets there before the King's barge," He whispered him.
Harvey
Valkrin Farensun
Maíth Mansion, Tonate Proper 

Valkrin scanned the entrance to the manor, and ordered for the door guards to rotate out, keeping everyone fresh and ready. With the leaders of this many nations all together, he was sure he had his work cut out for him.

"I don't own anything fancier than this," He said, pointing at the dress uniform he was wearing, "But I did have the servants bring a few of your dresses. They're in my bedroom, in the barracks. I'll have a guardsman escort you there." Val called a guard over and tasked him with leading Catarina to the barracks.

"Now remember, you take orders from her, not the other way around." As the man confirmed that he understood, Valkrin shifted his gaze to Catarina. "Anyone gives you trouble, you come let me know immediately."
Rhonda
The Seneschal, Silas Asgarov
The Onset of the Ball, The Maith Mansion

The Seneschal had slipped away from the festival unseen. Through the maze of tunnels beneath the Mizzen, Silas had made his way through the bowels of Tonate Proper. Under the cover of complete darkness, he had felt his way along the cool stone walls of the catacombs, passageways, sewers, bathhouse cisterns, natural caves, ladders, winding staircases, and dusty footways that he and his most trusted confidants used to navigate the city in secret. 

From far underneath the kitchens of the Maith Mansion, within the rum and wine cellars, an empty barrel shifted from it's spot in the wall. It had not been touched in many years, and even the simple jostling knocked clouds of dust from its front. Once and then twice it shifted, before with a hard kick of his bright blue babouche it lurched from it's spot in the wall. The Seneschal shifted his way through the gap arms first, spindled fingers wrapping around the barrels to slowly hoist himself into the far flung reaches of the castle cellars. 

_If there is one thing I can count on,_ Silas thought, pushing the empty barrel back into its place, _it is the utter incompetence of my servants._ He turned the barrel clockwise until a series of clicks set it into place. He paused a moment and looked at his hands, still finely manicured after his underground excursion, not a speck of dirt under his nails. He dusted his hands off on his pants, and then with his clean hands, pat the dust from his thighs, smoothed out his longcoat and pants, cracked his knuckles, ran a hand through his long, dark hair, smoothed out his teeth with his tongue, and slid the back of his fingers down his chin and neck to check for any unruly facial hair.

"Perfect." The Seneschal smiled a wide and toothy grin, placing his hands on his lapels and tugging at them, unsheathing the parasol from the latches on his back and kicking open the door to the kitchen inferior. 

"WHY HAVE NONE OF YOU MOVED THE LIQUOR REQUIRED FOR OUR MAJESTY'S GRAND FESTIVITIES? I HAVE BEEN TO THE BACK OF OUR CELLAR TO DISCOVER, MUCH TO MY CHAGRIN, THAT NARY AN AGÉD BARREL HAS BEEN REMOVED! DO YOU ALL SEE FIT TO SERVE THE MENAGERIE OF KINGS AND DUCHESSES OUR NEWEST AND MOST NUBILE OF WINES?" 

Silas' staff, who had in no way been expecting for their master to return so early and from so orthodox a door, took a moment to register his entrance. 

"Have I..." Silas slowly began to clasp his hands, "Misspoken? Please, someone, if I have misspoken, please do speak up." 
"Yes Seneschal!" The all replied, setting about to remove the oldest barrels of rum and wine from the cellar. 

The Seneschal would kick open a number of unexpected doors in the time that the many guests rode the pleasure barge towards the Royal Estate.

He stopped off in the kitchen superior, to watch the preparation of the appetizers that would be set aside for the guests that evening. A large selection of fruit had been planned, to show off the natural bounty of the Isles. A copious amount of rambutan, mangosteen, lychee, a great variety of melons and mango, coconut, banana and twelve whole pineapples were to be cut, chilled within the ice boxes and set out for the guests within the gardens. A variety of imported cheeses, oysters, mushrooms, and freshly sliced raw fish would accompany them. 

Beyond the kitchen superior were the bakehouse and smokehouse, which to his surprise were moving with some spirit of efficiency. The bakers had already produced fifty sizable loaves of bread and when the Seneschal ordered the number doubled, they replied positively. The livestock they had imported from Cloverhold were been slaughtered beyond the sight of the guests. They had been able to bring the fowl and hog corpses in through the door, but the entrance to the smokehouse was not wide enough to accommodate the great horned cattle. The Seneschal ordered that fire pits be constructed and that they be roasted during the festivities, in time for the main course.

It was the other sort of animals that gave him more issues, however. The Keeper of the Royal Menagerie was hesitant to bring their animals to the festivities. The black and white striped horses they gave up readily, along with the large lizards, peacocks, yellow crested walking birds and a swarm of tinier walking birds, who were trained to clap for the many buckets of flying fish that the guests would use to feed them. Although Silas found the display charming, he was disappointed to find that they would not lend him the great cats he had requested. They would not lend the king their tigers nor their leopards or their great Amorothi lion. The elephant was apparently out of the question. They offered instead twelve snakecharmers and a caged black jaguar which as they put it: "Would not trample or maim your noble guests." Begrudgingly, Silas accepted the terms.

The bardic troupe that he had requested was more unruly than the animals. He had found them rutting in a well to do tavern in the Redwall District, drinking and howling like jackanapes. The one that was supposed to play the Creepy Skeleton Lord had been standing on a table, drinking from a frothing tanker and grabbing a hefty barmaid with his long pale fingers, pulling her into the table top. The Seneschal watched as the mummer tipped his head back and spilled the swill down his gullet, before the wench tripped and sent them both tumbling onto each other. It would have been humorous if not for his broken nose, which had bloomed so greatly that it showered everyone in a mist of crimson. Three drops of the fetid discharge had landed upon the back of his palm, and he had forced himself to act disgusted. In his mock-horror, the Seneschal had briefly revoked the contract with the caravan driver, but cooly reconsidered and proposed that they renegotiate their agreement, adding to the list that they remain sober until after their display and that the mummer for the Creepy Skeletal Lord be replaced with someone who was not bleeding profusely. When they produced his understudy, a boy no older than fifteen, Silas offered that they swap placed with the mummer for the Unruly and Rather Horny Brother. At risk of losing the contract, the playwright relented and ordered that they all must relearn their lines or risk exile by the King of the Isles.

Silas was standing in the Water Gardens when he spied the pleasure barge, His Sixteen Rings, sailing into harbor. Behind it was the royal flagship, the Leviathan Quay carried in the King and his court. The pleasure barge was kept out in the bay while the Quay docked in the marina, before also being brought into shore. From underneath the shade of his parasol, the Seneschal placed a thinly rolled cigarette between his lips and lit it with his finger. He sucked on it hard, and the paper peeled away so rapidly to reveal a column of smoking ash. It hung from the side of his mouth as he looked down at his assistant. 

"Have I been clear with you as to your aims with Lady Kolgrim tonight, my young Puckgordon?"
Cedric
Bastien de Lysse
Tonate Proper | The Shrouds

It took him roughly thirty seconds to once again locate the cerulean dress. Its wearer was at a cloth vendor, shifting a piece of green fabric between her fingers. The thin veil covering her face blurred her expression, but the greedy smirk on the old vendor's face made him stride over despite his better judgement. As he approached, the woman's pale eyes flicked over to glance at him before turning back to the cerulean woman, then she did a double take, her eyes growing wide.

"Are- Aren't you the..." The smug smile was wiped from the vendor's, now replaced with shock and curiosity. Bastien did his hardest not to show his irritation at how loud her voice was. "You're the man who won the joust, aren't you? De Leased?"

Though annoyance at the mispronunciation of his surname itched to be expressed, Bastien kept a neutral expression as he turned to Calypso, who was for some reason holding her left ear as if it was about to be swiped off. One of his dark eyebrow rose in silent questioning, before he turned back to gaze at the racks of fabric on display.

"Hmm..." He reached over to feel the one Calypso was grasping, his long fingers close to hers. A tsk escaped his lips. The quality, while nicer than others, was mediocre. As was the color. Red would be nicer, he thought. A deep, blood-red color. Though he didn't say anything directly, he gave Calypso a look that clearly stated he was unimpressed with the choices.

"Come with me," He said, taking a step back from the booth and merchant with her mouth still agape. He extended his arm, bending it so that she could place her arm in his. He was tempted to scold her, for being outside with no supervision and no guards: the perfect target for thieves or ruffians. However, remembering that his sole purpose for venturing out was for pie, he kept his mouth shut and simply looked down at her, arm still extended.
John
Puckgordon Snæch
The Maith Mansion

"Yes, sir." Came a simple reply. After his little bout of panic from losing a tooth, Puck was practically calmed by the stress of the Festival, and all its little working gears and cogs. It gave him something else to pay attention to. On the way around as the Seneschal's shadow, he had picked his little snake back up, letting it sit comfortably around his neck. It never did tighten, or panic and strike. In fact, he was nearly mistaken for a snake charmer until Silas had put a hand on his shoulder and guided him away from the little circus. 

The little iridescent serpent slithered around Puck's ear as he stood slightly behind Silas, watching the sea. 

"Take her out to the gardens and show her 'round. Perhaps even go shooting." He repeated, his eyes remaining trained on the soft waves glimmering in the setting sun.

"I don't know why it ought to be me. Shouldn't there be someone... Uh. Taller? With all his teeth?" 

Puck was, actually, quite a pretty boy. Part of that was the reason everyone was always taken aback by his ferocity. He did happen to be self-conscious, though.
Tom
Calypso Kolgrim 

Tonate Proper | The Shrouds


While holding the fabric Calypso's mind was tracing a meticulous plan on how to get that fabric at a lower price. It was dishonest, and it was low, but it also would save her a lot of money witch, in the end, overshadowed all the moral cons, not that she would have listened to them anyway. So armed with her best cutthroat smile Calypso prepared to shoot her shot.

*"You are the one the man who wan the Joust!*"

"Eh?" Was all that she could utter before turning around and, yep, there he was. Bastien was standing right behind her, towering over both of the women, as eyes examined the merch on display, silent exempt for the low humming. His face was grave and unreadable as always, but Calypso could see a trace of judgment as he lifted his eyes on her. "M-my lord? " Stuttered Calypso, the iridescent blue veil pressed against her features as she looked up at him. She opened her mouth to say something else but got interrupted again as Bastien lifted his bent arm towards her and his words felt more like a command than a request. 

The terresolian lady offered him a puzzled look, "I-" Started her turning her head to look at the merchant who was still starting at Lord De Lysse as if Saris themselves had manifested in front of her, which brought a small smirk on her lips. *Not so cocky anymore uh?* Calypso turned around offering the nobleman a smile and a shrug " I suppose I do not really have a choice on the matter do I?" Remarked her, polite but cutting while wrapping her arm around the one that was being offered to her "Lead the way my Lord. " Before departing, Calypso shoot one last glance at the woman behind the stand, her earrings jingled with the movement, as she offered a venomous smile to the woman"Best of luck with your business madam. You'll need it. " And turned around following after Bastien, head high and pride restored. 

"For your information, I had everything under control."
Rhonda
The Seneschal Silas Asgarov
The Water Gardens, the Maith Mansion

"You are the perfect person, Puckgordon. And if you're ever to learn to be a competent Lord, which is what your father sent you to become, then you will have to learn how to comport yourself around nobility. I've known many lords to not have a full set of teeth, and they are respected just the same. The King has three golden teeth, and more if you count the ones he's stolen over the years." The Seneschal removed the cigarette from his mouth to chuckle. He kept it so still in his hand that the ash did not crumble from it's base.

"Besides, unlike the rest of my staff, you have a genuine desire to please me." He gently set the cigarette back between his lips. "Do make sure you actually enjoy yourself tonight. There will be a variety of activities to undertake. I hear there will even be a melee. I thought that after a long day of running around, watching pleasantries and horseback riding you might actually want to see someone get their head caved in." 

"I know I do," He muttered under his breath.
John
Puckgordon
The Water Gardens, The Maith Mansion

Now, out of anyone in the world, Puck did in fact want to impress and please Silas the most, but he still couldn't hold back a somewhat disrespectful scoff at a few of the things Silas had said. He crossed his arms, tilting his head back to watch the clouds traipse across the tropical sky.

*My father didn't send me here to be a Lord. He sent me here to be rid of me.*

He didn't think it out loud, but he was assuredly thinking of it. It would be an insult to the King if it was announced to him. To this day he was always surprised by how he actually was accepted into the mansion in the first place. A Melsi, not even the eldest of his family. Simply a scary little swamp rat. He sniffed the air and looked over at Asgarov with minor contempt. 

"I'd like to bite that bastard's other ear off." He said shortly. "Make him nice and even." 

His silly mutterings were truly just a way to get his mind off of his father and his role here. "Do I hafta squire for someone else, now, too?"
Rhonda
The Seneschal, Silas Asgarov
The Water Gardens, The Maith Mansion

"No. Within these walls, you are my assistant, and you answer only to me. I run this household and I look after the King, and you will look after me. So I only ask that you accomplish your tasks with Lady Kolgrim sometime before the sun rises tomorrow. Between then and now, you may see fit to do whatever you like. Take a nap and a shower, if you must. Tonight will be nothing short of eventful, and I'd like it if you were running around unkempt." 

Silas plucked what remained of the cigarette from his mouth and flicked it into the bushes. He pursed his lips as he considered handing one over to Puckgordon. He decided against it. 

"Do be a lamb, my young Puckgordon, and summon the King's welcoming party. I'm sure that Captain Farensun is milling around the barracks somewhere. As much as I would _love_ to have to clean up yet another unruly assas—" He coughed as he remembered who he was talking to, "Tell him that the King has arrived and put that old man to work."
John
Puckgordon
The Water Gardens, The Maith Mansion

Puckgordon sighed a little. He was shoved into the squire position when he got here, so having a new job was satisfying as well as unusual for him. He straightened his collar, the snake taking advantage of it to slither down his arm. Puck reached out and allowed the snake to lick the air, swiveling it's body around the general area. 

He furrowed his brow at Silas. 

*Clean up an unruly ass?* He turned a little pink. Well, he assumed the Seneschal was into that sort of thing, but to have him say it so freely was... Uncomfortable. 

He cleared his throat and nodded. "Right. Valkrin." He said shortly before turning his back and walking stiffly toward where Asgarov asked.

More like *Ass*Garov. Puck smirked to himself about his own little joke.