Les Misérables
03-15-16, 11:16 AM
((Closed to Eylana. All bunnying pre-approved))
The Baron of Tylmerande paused in the middle of mingling and pretended to sip wine from a pearl-encrusted goblet. He whispered out the side of his mouth to Phyr Sa'resh.
"What say you, Master Sa'resh? Shall we approach Yarborough, or Radasanthia next?" Aniel Marwena asked. The Baron and his Alerian advisor had just finished a short but lively conversation with Baron Varntel of Concordia, jesting about qualities and quantities of oak and yew shipped and quotas missed or exceeded. As the shipbuilding capitol of Corone, Serenti depended on Concordia's regular lumber shipments down the Firewine river, and so Sandril Varntel had made a logical first mark for the soiree.
"Let us speak with Baron Ormandet," Phyr suggested, barely moving his lips and pointing at the leader of Yarborough with his long crooked nose, "after all Lessli is our closest neighbor, and I have had the opportunity to make her acquaintance once before. Let us save the richest of the barons for last." He indicated Paige Relvest of Radasanthia with a toss of his carefully combed silver mane.
"Top-hole!" Marwena murmured around a real sip of wine, smacking his lips to savor the local vintage. "I refer to both the wine and your counsel, Master Sa'resh. I am glad I selected you to accompany me this night."
Like the other barons, Aniel Marwena employed a host of advisors, all with more seniority than Phyr. But the Alerian had recognized this dinner party for what it was; a gathering of the four leaders of Corone's republic, and therefore potentially the most important social event of the season. Since stepping down from his post as Captain of the Underwood Watch Phyr had taken up a position as advisor to the Baron of Tylmerande, thinking the southern climes would ease him into retirement. But Phyr Sa'resh was not prepared to put himself to pasture, perhaps not for another hundred years or more. The information flowing through the Baron's offices intrigued him, and his own lack of involvement vexed the Alerian.
In Underwood he'd marshaled troops during the Corone war; an entire village and much of the surrounding area had relied on his swift cunning and decisive nature for survival. Before that, before he'd spent sixty years in a Salvarian prison for crimes he did not commit, he'd been an officer in the Alerian military. The idea of living out his days supping sun on the pearl coasts of Tylmerande had seemed so appealing, until he actually tried it. Phyr Sa'resh did not relax well, and prolonged exposure to the sun did not agree with him.
And so when he'd heard Marwena would be holding a dinner party with the other three barons in attendance, he had fallen back on his former ways. He had never considered himself a miscreant by any means, but Phyr Sa'resh could con a lifelong swindler and swindle the best conman in Corone.
Days before the dinner party a rumor had circulated amongst Marwena's staff, saying that Paige Relvst of Radasanthia would be suggesting closer relations with Alerar on the night in question. The story varied with each retelling; most of the senior advisors were saying that the Baron of Radasantia merely had a passing interest in the high-end technology fabricated in Alerar. Some of the younger messengers however had sworn that Relvst had plans for war with the dark elven nation. All of the rumors had one thing in common; they stemmed from the sharp mind of Phyr Sa'resh.
As Phyr followed Marwena across the hall he placed his empty goblet on a serving man's tray to free up his lone left arm. He had lost the right during his stay in the Salvarian prison, but over the years had grown accustomed to its absence. He wore a doublet with the right sleeve sealed at the shoulder and the ship seated on an open clamshell sigil of Tylmerande. His azure skin was clean, his silver hair combed and pulled back into a long tail by a leather tie. His fine leather shoes whispered over the marble floor. Never in all his long life had Phyr Sa'resh worn such fancy garments, and yet he looked like a street urchin compared to the jewel-encrusted attire of the barons.
Marwena and Sa'resh caught up with Lesslie Ormandet of Yarborough by the large bay windows opposite the hall's grand double doors. The windows looked out on the sandy beaches of Serenti, washed at the moment by the red and gold hues of a setting sun. The tide had risen and the pearl divers had all retired for the night. By the time the sun dropped behind the western horizon Phyr figured they would move to a smaller dining room for the meal. He still had precious minutes in which to gain influence.
While the two barons chatted about the recent rainy weather Phyr scanned the hall for familiar faces. Some minor nobles and wealthy merchants filled the spaces between tables laden with blueberry scones and cups of wine and other appetizing morsels. Large hearths lined both sides of the hall, and along with their fires the brass chandelier hanging high above provided ample light, but Phyr saw few people of note other than the barons. He stroked his shaven chin with a scarred, long-fingered hand and swept the room again with dark blue eyes.
If there was a guest worth meeting there that night, Phyr Sa'resh would make a proper first impression.
The Baron of Tylmerande paused in the middle of mingling and pretended to sip wine from a pearl-encrusted goblet. He whispered out the side of his mouth to Phyr Sa'resh.
"What say you, Master Sa'resh? Shall we approach Yarborough, or Radasanthia next?" Aniel Marwena asked. The Baron and his Alerian advisor had just finished a short but lively conversation with Baron Varntel of Concordia, jesting about qualities and quantities of oak and yew shipped and quotas missed or exceeded. As the shipbuilding capitol of Corone, Serenti depended on Concordia's regular lumber shipments down the Firewine river, and so Sandril Varntel had made a logical first mark for the soiree.
"Let us speak with Baron Ormandet," Phyr suggested, barely moving his lips and pointing at the leader of Yarborough with his long crooked nose, "after all Lessli is our closest neighbor, and I have had the opportunity to make her acquaintance once before. Let us save the richest of the barons for last." He indicated Paige Relvest of Radasanthia with a toss of his carefully combed silver mane.
"Top-hole!" Marwena murmured around a real sip of wine, smacking his lips to savor the local vintage. "I refer to both the wine and your counsel, Master Sa'resh. I am glad I selected you to accompany me this night."
Like the other barons, Aniel Marwena employed a host of advisors, all with more seniority than Phyr. But the Alerian had recognized this dinner party for what it was; a gathering of the four leaders of Corone's republic, and therefore potentially the most important social event of the season. Since stepping down from his post as Captain of the Underwood Watch Phyr had taken up a position as advisor to the Baron of Tylmerande, thinking the southern climes would ease him into retirement. But Phyr Sa'resh was not prepared to put himself to pasture, perhaps not for another hundred years or more. The information flowing through the Baron's offices intrigued him, and his own lack of involvement vexed the Alerian.
In Underwood he'd marshaled troops during the Corone war; an entire village and much of the surrounding area had relied on his swift cunning and decisive nature for survival. Before that, before he'd spent sixty years in a Salvarian prison for crimes he did not commit, he'd been an officer in the Alerian military. The idea of living out his days supping sun on the pearl coasts of Tylmerande had seemed so appealing, until he actually tried it. Phyr Sa'resh did not relax well, and prolonged exposure to the sun did not agree with him.
And so when he'd heard Marwena would be holding a dinner party with the other three barons in attendance, he had fallen back on his former ways. He had never considered himself a miscreant by any means, but Phyr Sa'resh could con a lifelong swindler and swindle the best conman in Corone.
Days before the dinner party a rumor had circulated amongst Marwena's staff, saying that Paige Relvst of Radasanthia would be suggesting closer relations with Alerar on the night in question. The story varied with each retelling; most of the senior advisors were saying that the Baron of Radasantia merely had a passing interest in the high-end technology fabricated in Alerar. Some of the younger messengers however had sworn that Relvst had plans for war with the dark elven nation. All of the rumors had one thing in common; they stemmed from the sharp mind of Phyr Sa'resh.
As Phyr followed Marwena across the hall he placed his empty goblet on a serving man's tray to free up his lone left arm. He had lost the right during his stay in the Salvarian prison, but over the years had grown accustomed to its absence. He wore a doublet with the right sleeve sealed at the shoulder and the ship seated on an open clamshell sigil of Tylmerande. His azure skin was clean, his silver hair combed and pulled back into a long tail by a leather tie. His fine leather shoes whispered over the marble floor. Never in all his long life had Phyr Sa'resh worn such fancy garments, and yet he looked like a street urchin compared to the jewel-encrusted attire of the barons.
Marwena and Sa'resh caught up with Lesslie Ormandet of Yarborough by the large bay windows opposite the hall's grand double doors. The windows looked out on the sandy beaches of Serenti, washed at the moment by the red and gold hues of a setting sun. The tide had risen and the pearl divers had all retired for the night. By the time the sun dropped behind the western horizon Phyr figured they would move to a smaller dining room for the meal. He still had precious minutes in which to gain influence.
While the two barons chatted about the recent rainy weather Phyr scanned the hall for familiar faces. Some minor nobles and wealthy merchants filled the spaces between tables laden with blueberry scones and cups of wine and other appetizing morsels. Large hearths lined both sides of the hall, and along with their fires the brass chandelier hanging high above provided ample light, but Phyr saw few people of note other than the barons. He stroked his shaven chin with a scarred, long-fingered hand and swept the room again with dark blue eyes.
If there was a guest worth meeting there that night, Phyr Sa'resh would make a proper first impression.