<strong>What Has Gone Before...</strong><br/><br/>Her Serene Highness, Crown Princess Victoire, being of the blood and lineage of two proud lines yet by her sex considered a weak heir at best, courted scandal by encouraging a certain nobleman of high repute to approach her in a manner both unseemly and yet utterly innocent.  She, being a proud beauty, had gathered word from far-flung sources that her maternal uncle, Dom Pietro, had no end of schemes and plans to move against the kingdom of her birth, and like any other true child of the land sought the advice of one known to be wise.  That it would have caused some small scandal was of less import to her than the woe that would befall those people who were hers by birth and by right.  So they met, he disguised as a foreign noblewoman at a masked ball held for her mother's birthday, and from that brief discussion great matters were born.<br/><br/>Within a fortnight, writs were delivered to various and sundry individuals of interest, summoning them to meet at a modest manse in the Rue Frederique upon a certain date, there to discuss how they might best be of service to the mysterious Duc du Masque, the most eccentric of lords.  And there, this history must by needs begin: with the rain and the night and that first meeting at the Duc's townhouse.<br/><br/><strong>The League Forms</strong><br/><br/>It is, by the perverse logic of Nature's whim, unseasonably chilly for late Spring, and the rain pounds relentlessly down on the capital.  Those who have no pressing business out of door huddle by the fire and are thankful for it, while those who must needs go out hurry as best they can.  Thus our travelers arrive at a modest townhouse in the Rue Frederique, as per the instructions each has received in an unsigned letter.  Being admitted swiftly and escorted into a study with a roaring fire and glasses of strong brandy to chase off the chill, you are left for a few moments to converse among yourselves...<br/>