Marn Restoration Gala - Ascension

[Metarie]

As she wove her way through the crowd, several people stopped her forward progression to greet her. A pinched-faced woman stopped Ree from reaching the table.

"Doctor Sehkhara! How interesting to see you. Are you here to support the Gardening Club?" Darli Reushinska of the Daily Tattler was smiling politely, but also held the look of a bloodhound on a scent.

"Ah, Darli, good to see you as well. No, I am not here to support the Gardening Club. In fact, I am appalled by what I have read and seen so far. The tomes say Marn is a haven for all well-meaning people, even those afflicted with magic, such as Isyrion and I. It is my intention to state publicly that any rhetoric that encourages Marn citizens to turn upon each other is not something I will condone or support. I hope you will be so kind as to quote me on that without further conjecture."

Darli was looking at Ree with her mouth hanging open, before she began to scribble Ree's words hastily. As Ree was speaking, Nan Pewter and Horace Gingenthal had edged closer, pens also writing as fast as they could capture the words from Ree's mouth.

"Doctor Sehkhara!" Horace spoke next. "I notice you arrived in one of Kaledin's carriages. Does the Lord of the Manor agree with you?"

Ree smiled, slightly. "Hello, Horace. I cannot speak for Lord Belatucadrus. I sought his council as I was concerned that the way things are being handled might lead to another riot like the one in '42. Only someone as young as Isyrion would not remember the horror and bloodshed of those days. I would hate to see neighbors attacking neighbors once again."

"So, what did he say? Did he say anything?" The fact that Ree had seen and spoken to Belatucadrus was big news. Usually, Belatucadrus stayed in the shadows.

"He was kind enough to point out that elves are also non-human." Horace's pen hovered over the page for a brief second. Darli jumped in while Horace hesitated.

"So, what does the Captain say? I notice he did not accompany you."

Ree smiled and shook her head, giving Darli a look. "You should ask him, Darli." Darli frowned. If the bent of her articles were any indication, she was a supporter of Navarre's cause. Her pen scribbled. Trouble in Lover's Paradise? A little smile curved her lips.
Horace, however, was not.

"Navarre is an elf. Do you know her well?"

"I thought I did. I helped her mother bring Isyrion into the world and attended many of her birthdays, including her more recent ones Yet, she did not recognize me when we met just the day before."

Nan chimed in finally. She had been assigned the more social aspect of the affair, and had to get that part out of the way.
"Are you wearing a Juliai ?"

"Yes, Nan, thank you for noticing. The salon and the experience was nothing less than impeccable."

As the crowd quieted down, the reporters turned to look, with Darli moving toward the stage. Ree had not seen Navarre's wave.

As Navarre spoke, a horrible feeling curled in the pit of Ree's stomach. Another death? Liar, carved into his chest? The more Navarre spoke, the more disgusted Ree became.

As the applause erupted, Ree did not clap. How awful to applaud the death of someone! One gloved hand was curved over her lips, the other was held tight across her abdomen. Tears glittered in her eyes.

"Doctor Sehkara?" It was Nan, voice soft. "What do you think of Navarre's speech?"

"I think it was clever and contains discrepancies." Ree's gazed had been fastened on Navarre, but she turned to look at Nan. A few tears slid down her cheeks. Ree looked around, at a loss. She needed something to dab her eyes with and she needed to leave.

Thankfully, she was halfway between Navarre and the door. "If you will excuse me..."

Ree turned to leave but found Guile Markus had arrived with his wife and stood blocking the door. Of course, he would be here in support. Ree inclined her head at Guile and moved away from both Guile and Navarre. She did not want to speak to either of them. Not for the first time did she wish Cam had been able to attend with her.

[Azuel Vyaduka]

Azuel’s will to applaud gradually left him. Navarre’s speech had not been the definitive answer he had been hoping for. Had he been chosen to write the words said that day, he would have much rather brought up the logical arguments for ending the threats that were posed. While Modestine’s death was certainly a tragedy, it ultimately had little bearing on the subject of Navarre’s revolution. Such cheap emotional manipulation seemed beneath them both.

He sighed, wondering if his thoughts were unfair. He hadn’t gone through what Navarre had. He had not lost family and saw no reason why he should, barring a sudden failure in his grandfather’s health. He could hardly even be said to have encountered death, considering how young he had been for his mother’s passing. Perhaps her views were more convincing than he gave them credit. Many present were surely less fortunate than he.

It was also entirely possible the Navarre was in the process of rethinking her more extreme stances, and failed to create an exact plan as a result. It certainly had seemed implied by her words, backtracking on the subject of Marn’s various species. The rebels were her priority now, as perhaps they should be in light of their recent murders, one could hardly blame her.

Azuel knew more of Paragon’s activities than most. He could admit that he was his grandfather’s favorite, and through that connection had learned much more than the average aristocrat. Paragon was a very real threat, and it was a maddening thought to him that there were those so desperate to use magic that they would overthrow Marn and slaughter honest Puradynes. What was perhaps the greatest failing of the rebellion was their reasoning that they fought for the rights of mages. It was a pathetically thin excuse. If they truly sought freedom from the so called oppression, they should simply leave Marn for Eyropa. There were plenty of poorly-controlled government positions for mages to claim in foreign lands, where they could abuse their powers to the fullest. There had never been a need for murder of any sort.

The only motive left for Paragon was a blatant power grab. It appalled Azuel that such people would bathe Marn in brutality for their own selfish ends. Navarre’s reasoning was solid on that ground.

Azuel did not like magic, and not just because of his personal Puradyne faith. Magic was not bestowed upon people by skill or intelligence, but rather by random chance. Magic, by its very nature, devoured progress and personal achievement. There was a reason the rest of the world lacked indoor plumbing and electricity: it was because Mages tried to solve all their problems personally, without a single thought to widespread applications. No thoughts were spared to the average citizen. It simply wasn’t how the mind worked when given power like that. What was the point of going through the arduous process of learning and developing widespread, easily manufactured cures that could last millennia when a few mages right now would be waving their hands around to cure a few plague victims a day? People relied on magic to solve problems that would be more effectively solved with a more reliable system of knowledge.

He was losing focus. He sighed and shuffled around in his pocket, pulling out the invitation. Others were already standing, moving to return to the festivities as if nothing had ever changed, no murders had been committed, and the threat of bloody rebellion did not lurk just around the corner. He had originally sought to meet Navarre and speak with her on the subject of race, arguing for her to lower her extreme viewpoints and instead use more reasonable arguments, at least to such a point that he would feel comfortable supporting it. It seemed she had done that already in choosing to redirect her organization’s primary efforts into opposing Paragon. Besides, all the people were tiring. He was not one for parties. Perhaps it was already time to leave.

Azuel pushed out his chair and turned around. He would stay for a short while longer. He was not in any rush to make a decision. It took him a moment to realize he had pushed out his chair in somebody's path. His tongue caught in his throat for a moment before he regained his aristocratic composure. "Ah, my apologies miss..." Azuel straightened in surprise. "Sehkhara. I would not have expected to find you here."

He kept his face controlled, but it was the kind of control a stone has over its own features. Not so much as a muscle moved on his marble face, and his eyes failed to meet hers by resting just slightly below. He did not like jumping to conclusions about the character of another, especially when all he had to go by was hearsay, but it was hard not to judge Metarie's actions. Here was a prime example of what he had just been thinking: a mage, a doctor, and the death of scientific progress, granted advantages by magic which she had done nothing to earn.

[Metarie]

Ree stopped short as a chair moved out into her path. She felt trapped in the room and searched the faces, looking for Camulous.
When the man spoke, he drew her gaze back to him. Wait, she knew him. He was a guardsman and a Descendant, wasn't he?

"Mr. Vyaduka." Ree paused and decided to say exactly what she had said to Darli. She lifted a gloved finger to each eye to dab the tears away.

"I came to publicly state I do not support this cause. A wise man reminded me recently that the Tomes say Marn is a haven for all well-meaning people, even those afflicted by magic, and that we should look to the Tomes. Even though her recent speech implies otherwise, I am worried the rhetoric and Modestine's death announcement will make a repeat of the events in '42." Her voice sounded genuinely concerned.

At first, Ree felt relieved, but the coldness in his bearing and demeanor... had she done something wrong or was he one of those who viewed elves as second class citizens? He refused to meet her gaze. Ree shifted her body slightly, until she was able to meet his gaze with hers. Her eyes were green and almond shaped, the shape and color emphasized by subtle and artistic make-up. Her ears came to delicate points and were framed by artfully arranged waves of auburn hair that fell around her shoulders. His skin was golden-toned, as if sun-kissed. The stylists had dusted the tops of her shoulders and her decolletage lightly with some kind of opalescent powder, giving her skin a soft sheen. The dress was a deep green that complimented her eye color.

"Have I done something to offend you, Mr. Vyaduka?" Ree knew not everyone would be her friend or even like her for a variety of reasons, but she also had lived long enough that she thought she at least deserved the courtesy of knowing why. All her political savvy had been used up by the reporters. What was left was her usual earnestness and sense of right and wrong.

[Shanuri Laleonalia]

Shanuri's hands joined the applause, but her mind was racing. Navarre's announcement had caught her by surprise. She glanced briefly around; Who knew about this? Who did not look surprised? And where was Haneul? She had seen her come in, but the other woman had disappeared in the crowd. Unfortunately looking for her was not an option. In the eyes of outsiders, the two women were merely acquaintances.

It's a major event. Of course there was going to be an attack.

It was not the first time she cursed the Paragon's determination not to share information, but this time she felt offended. If Modestine was on the hit list, he should have rightfully belonged to H2. That's what they were for.

Is this because of the Morrington case? No. The Paragon could not afford to be petty. If you were no longer considered trustworthy, you would know.

Maybe someone went rogue. Maybe we are being framed.

She drew a deep breath, instinctively taking a step backwards. You were told what you needed to know, and you were expected to act accordingly. Right now, Modestine's death meant that her own, private plans for the night were put on hold.

Dance. Make them love you, and then ignore you. Do your job. Somebody better-informed than you is calling the shots.

[Azuel Vyaduka]

Azuel felt horribly trapped. Blast it all, why had he been so negligent as to get in her way? He didn’t need this turbulence adding to his troubles. It was only through a lifetime of politics that he was able to retain control of his features and keep his cheeks from turning bright red. Metarie seemed to be attempting to meet his eyes. Azuel avoided her gaze by looking at her ears. Their points called to him in ways he was not wholly comfortable with. He decided on the lesser of two evils and stared back, unflinchingly, into her eyes. He was surprised to see how similar the shade of her eyes was to his own, a rich and soulful green.

“I would perhaps be more inclined to sympathy were it not for the fact that you clearly do not regard your ‘affliction’ as such, Sehkhara.” He breathed in strongly, realizing his mistake. This had the unfortunate side effect of causing him to smell her perfume. He had never cared for such scents, but hers did not come across as entirely off-putting. “Forgive me. That was inconsiderate.”

He sat back down, pretending he didn’t have an erection at the moment. He shifted his legs to make himself more comfortable and ensure that there was no chance of anyone noticing it. For added security, he made certain it was under the tablecloth. This was pure chance; the scent must have reminded him of something. The alternatives were unthinkable. Besides, while he didn’t keep up with gossip in the slightest he was fairly certain Metarie was spoken for and he needed no complications furthering his already miserable evening. He didn’t want anyone to jump to conclusions.

Azuel ground his teeth beneath the unmoving mask of his face. He was worrying over nothing. It wasn’t like it was visible through his pants anyways. He sought to distract himself from the matter through reasonable discourse on the subject of the speech.

“Besides which, if anyone is to blame for our city’s upcoming troubles,” He paused, thinking of his grandfather’s views on the matter of Paragon. It was a familiar, reassuring thought that brought Azuel’s more deviant thoughts to heel, “it will be Modestine’s murderers and their conspirators.” The effect of his words did not mix well with his rigid face. He encountered difficulty overcoming an intense desire to grip the tablecloth, but restrained himself and settled for letting his lazy gaze wander safely over the crowd.

“They, unlike the so-called gardeners, have already launched their attacks. I won’t be of the group who seeks to stop those who oppose them.” He rested his hand on his chin, worrying that Metarie might stay. She, as an elf, possessed innumerable advantages born of experience and he was not certain he could successfully match her in the ring. That was surely why he did not wish for her continued presence.

“If you care to debate the issue, stay.” By Teonidus, what was he saying? Why had he granted that invitation? “If not, don’t. I can at least respect good intentions where I see them.”

[Metarie]

Azuel finally met her gaze and she was surprised at the emotion in them and the vehemence in his tone. Ree's eyes widened and she stiffened, back straightening. She blinked.

He was right.

She did not view her ability to heal as an affliction. Her other abilities, though... those she viewed as a curse. Clasping her hands in front of her, she bowed her head slightly and looked down at her hands. This was the conundrum of her life. Growing up, her mother had encouraged the use of her skills, telling her in soft tones that magic was not bad. It was misunderstood and misused by species and races that should not use it. She had been used to rout out others like her, betraying them for beliefs her mother did not even support. Growing up, she had also been told over and over that what she could do, what she was capable of was wrong, was evil, was an affliction. So, she sought to prove that she could do as much or better than any other who did not have the talents and skills, the afflictions she possessed.

"I see." A weariness and sadness tinged her voice. Azuel, for his part, continued speaking.

Ree shook her head. "I understand," she replied, voice still soft. Most other days she would stand by her convictions, but today, with the news of Modestine's death, her desire to debate was small. She felt old suddenly.

"I appreciate and respect your honesty. Few are as honorable."

Azuel sat back down suddenly. Confusing behavior to say the least, but he continued speaking.

"I glad to hear you agree with me on that. What is important to me is that the wrong people are not blamed for a crime they did not commit and that those responsible are brought to justice, swiftly."

Though his words bid her stay, his body language said anything but. Clasping the skirt of her dress in her left hand, Ree bowed partially. Her right hand had come up to rest over her heart as she inclined from her waist.

"I was planning on leaving, but found the entrance was clogged. Do you know if there is another exit to the building?"

[Azuel Vyaduka]

Azuel straightened a bit. He was surprised at how gracefully she was taking what he was certain was his buffoonish blundering. His eyes went skyward for a moment as he made decisions, realizing he should honor her courtesy with his own. He reluctantly turned to face her, leaving one of his hands atop the table. It was his mistake, as he caught her bowing with a hand over her breast. Why was her hand over her breast?

It took him a moment to realize she was asking him a question. He managed not to make his gaze snap from her chest in any notable fashion, instead more calmly and blandly raising his head. He looked towards the entrance. Had Navarre’s speech gone over so poorly that a mass was already leaving? It did not appear so. What a curious statement. All he saw was a portly fellow amidst a modest crowd. Metarie did not seem the type to make jokes about one’s weight.

“I’m afraid I do not.” He ran his fingers through his hair at the back of his head, a small and nervous gesture. His cold face had dropped a bit, though not by much. “If it was clogged, it appears to have cleared somewhat.”

He felt a hand suddenly drop onto his shoulder from out of the crowd. The fingers worked their way down his chest while he was still stunned by the sudden intrusion. Eventually the new arrival had dropped her head next to Azuel’s.

It was his sister. Teonidus save him. “Little brother.” She said, rubbing the top of her head affectionately against his. “I realize Lady Sehkhara is all dolled up, but you do know that that she is taken?”

Azuel’s composure fractured in an instant. His face blossomed in a sudden rush of red. He closed his eyes and bared his teeth in raw response to the overwhelming shame he felt at that moment. He stood quickly and all but flung his sister’s arm from his shoulder. His chair went careening back, but fortuitously did not tip.

He threw his arm to the side, angry at her jibe. Far more quickly than he needed to, he said “Latifa what are you doing here?”

She leaned back happily and narrowly avoided bumping into somebody facing the opposite direction. “Aw, you know I couldn’t resist showing up to a thing like this! Once Jafar told me where you were I just had to go support you.”

“Teonidus damn it, I... you...” Azuel’s last words descended into unintelligent noises of frustration. It ended with him taking a deep breath before taking his sister by the shoulders and spinning her around. He painfully noticed she had already seized a glass of wine, held in her left arm. At least she wasn’t drunk yet. “Lady Sehkhara I am terribly sorry about this, please forgive my sister’s intrusion.”

His sister felt it necessary to add her own apology “Just a jest, dearest.” Latifa called out over her shoulder, waving her glass in a toast.

[Metarie]

Ree straightened as Azuel replied. She glanced toward the doorway and away, her mouth tightening slightly. Her gaze looked over the back of the room. There had to be another entrance. Fire codes certainly would not allow there to be only one. Right? There had to be a serving set-up area. There had to be.

As Ree was looking away a woman draped herself over Azuel and spoke.

" Little brother, I realize Lady Sehkhara is all dolled up, but you do know that that she is taken?”

Ree looked to Azuel just in time to see him blush furiously. At first she watched him, but he seemed so embarrassed suddenly. Was ... was that why he was so vehement when their gazes first met? Truly, when it came to acknowledgements of her attractiveness, Ree often failed to notice. She was one of those beautiful women who were unaware of the looks of appreciation she received, or perhaps, because of what she had experienced growing up, she did not realize she was beautiful. Regardless, Azuel's reaction was surprising.

Ree was at a loss, momentarily, before retreating into the friendly, calm demeanor that allowed people to describe various bodily function problems to her with comfort. She politely looked at Azuel's sister, to allow him the time to regain his composure.

Ree placed her hand over her heart again and gave Latifa a bow as well.

"A pleasure to meet you. Your family is fortunate in its health." This was said as Azuel apologized for his sister, turned her, and gave her a push away from them.

"There's nothing to apologize for. Think nothing of it." Ree gave Azuel a kind smile. An awkward silence fell between them. Latifa called out over her shoulder as she moved through the crowd, heading in Vincentius' general direction. Ree hesitantly reached out, withdrawing her gloved hand, before deciding to place her fingertips on Azuel's forearm.

"Do I... do I make you nervous? I hope you will accept my apology for that? It is not my intention." Ree sounded genuinely concerned and apologetic. "Why don't I take my leave?" She gave Azuel another smile.

"I think I must accept my fate that I am bound to make the rounds of the room before I will be allowed to leave. Things conspire to keep me here."

[Azuel Vyaduka]

Azuel’s emotions were no longer hidden at all by the mask. His sister always had that effect on him. She was highly embarrassing, and always sought to stick her nose in his business. There had been a time, once, when he welcomed her help. Nowadays, she treated everything like a joke. He could not abide such frivolity.

He winced at Metarie’s blank stare, as if she did not understand what she was seeing. Clearly, this would leave a terrible first impression. He hated the thought of being viewed as incompetent in anybody else’s eyes. More than anything, he wished that others would see him as capable. He had never been able to believe it himself.

His sister was clearly undermining that goal as she tittered behind him. He cringed again as Metarie recovered her composure and greeted his sister. He wasn’t sure to be relieved or terrified that she could handle this with such ease. On one hand, it reduced the drama. On the other hand, it meant she was dealing with the situation much more adequately than he was. It made him feel like a jester on a stage, and a bad one at that: Metarie wasn’t laughing.

She finished her greeting by congratulating the Vyadukas on their health. It brought with it a painful spike of memory. He recalled years ago his mother’s death to illness. Azuel corrected himself before his thoughts took a turn obviously incorrect. Regardless of her profession, it was apparent she didn’t mean anything by it.

Latifa reached up and tossed one of his hands from her shoulder before taking a few steps to wander into the crowd. Metarie might not have picked up on it, but Azuel was willing to bet it meant his sister wanted to talk to him alone. He wanted to make certain Metarie was not getting the wrong idea before he followed. He looked back to her, only to stare uncomfortably for a moment.

He turned his head away again, his embarrassment only augmenting his earlier discomfort. As such, he didn’t see her arm come forward until it was too late to do anything about it. When she touched him, he stiffened obviously. He was well beyond the point of exercising any control thanks to his dear sister.

Metarie offered to leave. His mind was at this point in a horrible frenzy and seized upon the notion. He managed to stammer out a breathless “Yes, I... Yes, that is perhaps for the best” before he nodded and backed up, taking a moment to control himself. “Best of luck to you then,” he told Metarie. It was based purely on his instincts of politeness and had no real thought behind it. Had he been in full control of himself, he likely wouldn’t have extended the courtesy.

The Vyaduka turned to chase after his sister. She was going to answer him. There had to be a reason she was here. He had to hope that she had come here for some greater purpose than to torment him.

[Sebastian Morylin]

Sebastian had spent most of the evening standing in the background, relatively unnoticed by everyone. If it weren't for one persistent little girl who was bound and determined to try to offer him a drink with every lap of the room, he would have guessed that the guard uniform he was wearing blended into the wallpaper.

Had he chosen to, Sebastian could have attended the event via invitation as a member of the Morylin family, but by doing so he would be subject to follow all the social norms expected of a Synevive. He would have been expected to make small talk, fain interest in all the most recent gossip and pretend as if he really cared about which family was currently bidding to gain an ounce of power over the others. He had all but fallen out of the loop and for that he was grateful.

As he had explained to Three, Sebastian thought he could do more for the cause by taking a less active role in the evening's events. From the background he could observe the goings on without bringing notice to himself. He took note of who showed up, who didn't, and to which social circles they gravitated towards.

He had been so caught up in his observations that he had initially not thought to pay much attention to Lady Navarre's speech, that was until a few key words caught his mind. Murdered. Mutilated. Death. Investigation. He was caught nearly as unaware as was the crowd. Yes, word of the murder and the investigation had spread around headquarters, but why was this woman speaking of it now? Here of all places! He looked past the crowd at the other guardsmen stationed around the room, each looked as puzzled as the next. Had she not been told to keep quiet during the investigation? Was she not aware that by informing the public at large that she was hindering, not helping? for all they knew the very culprits could be fleeing the city now that their crimes were being aired to the public.

Where was the Captain? Why wasn't he up there putting a stop to this?

The crowd burst into applause as the speech came to an end, but all Sebastian could think was to how her words were meant to incite more fear into the populace, fuel their hatred and cause rioting in the streets. Surely that couldn't be her intent. For all the racist propaganda that her campaign had distributed, she had to know how bad this 'Gardening Club' idea had to be. She was an elf for crying out load! even if she were too young to remember the riots, she had to know how bad she was going to make everything. This was the kind of speech meant for turning neighbors and families on each other.

He hated magic as much as the next Puradyne, but witch hunts were far too extreme.

He stood at the ready, waiting, watching to see if anything more were to come of this. While the guards certainly had a presence at the event, they had been hired as a security measure; they were wholly unprepared to handle a large-scale riot. This could get very ugly, very fast.

While he scanned the room for any sign of trouble, his hand hovered over the sword strapped to his waist.

[Metarie]

Ree watched as Azuel left before heading toward the back right of the room. She had seen the servers going in and out of doors there. A guardsman, Sebastian Morylin, stood near to the door, declining a drink and monitoring the room with a serious expression. He was human and a Synevive. She had known his father and his grandfather before him. She also knew he had married an elf woman who had left him and their children. She remembered when the guards raided the apothecary shop. Ree remembered many things.

Yet again, a sense of weariness and awareness of her age washed over her. It brought sadness to her features and her eyes, subdued her voice. Ree had lived so long with humans, she lived like them - more in the moment, in the now, but her visit to Belatucadrus had been like eye-opening. Simply put, Ree had much to think about.

Those thoughts were the ones that filled her head as she moved toward Sebastian. She hoped to slip through the door with little fuss, but felt she should at least greet the guardsman.

"Good evening, Guardsman Morylin." With her customary hand over heart, she bowed to him before continuing. "I hope this evening finds you well."

[Talia Idris]

A sour taste filled Talia's mouth as she craned her neck to look around the room. Where was that serving girl when you needed her? A drink, alcoholic or not, was very welcomed right now for more then one reason now. This whole situation was less then desirable. It was just her luck that she had finally gotten to attend a fancy party and meet a nice guy only to have tragedy and politics interfere. At this rate her conversation companion was probably married with three kids at home.

"Do you think so?" She sighed, giving up on looking for a drink. Her eyes searched his face for what he could be thinking or feeling. He didn't sound as though he totally believed what he was saying, if anything his last remark could almost be taken as sarcastic. Which would make sense. There was no way a 'witch hunt' would solve anything. It would more likely turn into some kind of war between those for and those against magic.

She bite her lip as she debated once again how much to share with the man before her. It felt very likely that they had different views of magic. She turned out to face the room, observing how most people seemed to have gone on as though nothing had been said.

"I hate magic." The statement came out barely louder then a whisper but her voice grew in strength along with her convictions. "There are several events in my life that wouldn't have transpired it it hadn't been for the presence of magic. I believe I would be happy if I knew that I would no longer have to worry about it's existence in my life." Her voice softened as she continued. "But I don't wish to see people hurt. From what I know, people can't choose if they have magical skills or not and so they are simply victims until they succumb to it's ways and hurt others. At least that is how I feel."

How she felt was that she had perhaps spoken too much, that she had set herself up for an argument or had come across as naive. Her eyes skimmed the room again, this time looking for the ladies room just in case she needed to make a quick getaway if the conversation got to heated.

[Vicentius]

Tius listened as she spoke, staring at her for a long moment as she fell silent. Wordlessly, he reached behind him, lifted a full wine glass from a tray and handed it to the woman.

"As a puradyne, I acknowledge and accept the dangers inherent in magic, but it is not evil. Nor is it good. It only becomes one or the other when people make it so."

He gestured to the crowd, eyes narrowing slightly as Azuel and his sister came rushing in their direction. For the guardsman to panic something interesting must have been going on. Behind him, he saw Lady Sekhara moving away through the crowd, which raised some interesting questions. Still, as he considered his reply, he thought he saw a number of quite shocked glances from several of those assembled. It was not horror though, but something else. It puzzled him.

"People are small minded and flighty," he said, "that speech was about them and about getting them to move in the right direction. But right for whom? Violence in the streets is bad for business."

He shook his head sadly, again surveying the faces. Curiously, Lady Sekhara was speaking to one of them. A Morylin by the look of him, and a guardsman too. He hadn't denied the accusations either, which Tius filed away for later. If it surfaced that the Guard were withholding information from the judges it could severely compromise their standing. He straightened and returned his attention to the woman beside him.

"No, this has little to do with magic," he said, "or I'm a dwarf. What worries me is what comes next. Power plays are seldom clean."

She was being very frank with him, although she had an eye on her exits too, which he admired. Bowing slightly, he held his arms out in the Tian Xian gesture of loss.

"You have my sympathies for your losses, Miss," he said, gently, "life is hard on everyone and Marn is harder."

[Camulous Smithson]

Camulous' tardiness to the gala may have been partially self inflicted. Although the constant demands placed on him by his position did a fine job of keeping him tied up in Fort Omenbryn, the prospect of spending time at the gala provided a strong disincentive to hurrying up. Spending time with self titled aristocrats in meretricious outfits while they nursed expensive drinks and puffed themselves up with nugatory observations was not his idea of a good time. He might as well be asked to chaperone for a mob of spoiled children.

Furthermore, he distrusted Navarre but knew that his attendance would lend credibility to her cause. Rather than find her objectives noble in supporting the government, he disliked the way they stoked passions, fueled public unrest, and suggested the guard was not doing a sufficient job. The city was fine, the people were fine, and Marn ought to carry on the way it had for years - letting the guard handle things when they got out of hand - instead of kicking up a storm swatting at pests like the Paragon.

He also didn't need to go inside to know what Navarre would be saying about Modestine's death. The guard was in a frenzy over it, and for political reasons - because the judges had not yet given orders - the battlemages were not yet investigating. Camulous wasn't sure why the judges were reluctant to act, but he suspected they soon would. Until then, overreacting about Modestine would be playing into the murderer's hand. Whoever killed him knew that there would be fallout.

The irony was not lost on the captain. He hated the insurrectionists of the Paragon more than anyone at the gala, yet there he was, standing outside of the University in muffled conversation with another guardsman rather than inside listening to Navarre. Decked out in armor that he had not bothered to polish after a day's work outdoors, the captain kept his back turned to the building and exchanged brief words with Lurus, who was old and experienced enough to know exactly what was going on and why Camulous was outside.

Eventually they both acknowledged that some duties had to be done, and Camulous left him for the university with a pat on the shoulder and added a single statement: "Just like in Aeneis"

Lurus knew the reference to the Trojan horse, and laughed once in affirmation.

Camulous walked past the doorman without a greeting and into the auditorium. People were milling about, some already apparently ready to leave, and all of whom recognized him. Most smiled politely and offered an obligatory greeting, but he pretended not to notice them while he walked past and scanned the crowd.

He found Metarie off to the side speaking with Morylin, two people he recognized and didn't consider to be the worst of company. Metarie was done up so immaculately well he ended up staring inadvertently. Where did she get that dress? Did she usually paint her lips?

He snapped out of it when she noticed him, and walked over to greet them both with a nod and hello.

[Talia Idris]

Talia smiled gratefully as he handed her a glass filld with a dark red liquid. Taking a tentative sip she made a sour face before allowing another sip to follow. She had never tasted wine before and it was not to her liking, but she needed something to calm her and hopefully this was the ticket.

"Thank-you for your condolences and for the drink, it was quite welcomed." She smiled, lifting the glass slightly. She avoided the rest of his comments. Her work consummed most of her time and therefore she had only made it to a few puradyne services and so did not have anything with which to refute him with. She was unwilling to enter into a potentially heated conversation that was purely based on her opinions and her own few experiences.

As for what had been brought up tonight? She would sooner forget it and try to salvage what was left of her evening. After all she did not come here to discuss politics and religion. Pulling the glass away from her lips, she tilted her head thoughtfully before coming to some inner conclusion.

"I suppose I have failed to introduce myself." She said as she extended her hand out to him. "My name is Talia...Idris."

She had almost chosen not to give him her last name but she was afraid it could appear too unlady like if she expected him to call her by her first name so soon after meeting him. And he was a jeweler after all, from his behaviour and manners thus far she seriously doubted that she had much to worry about.