Lady Anais
02-22-07, 10:00 PM
Come on, he's got to be here somewhere...
The baroness tugs gently at the side of her dress, immensely uncomfortable. She didn't much care for formal attire anyways, and the dress she had borrowed didn't fit quite right. Even now the corest hugs her waist too tight and makes her huff at the end of each breath and the stitching on the side scratches against her ribs. Her eyes scan over the immense banquet room carefully, all varieties of nobility crowding around, laughing and dancing and drinking expensive wines. The banquet hall is an immense room with white marble walls and ivory columns that seems to swell with Salvar's upper curst packed in. The dress she loathes at the moment is a necessary evil- in order to get into the gala she was forced to shed her armor. It seems that revelry is an exclusive affair and events like this required dressing to the nines to even get past the front door.
Most of the Slavic elite are in this room, surely he's got to be living it up around here someplace.
The Salvic nobility don't waste any excuse to throw ostentatious celebrations; so when word had circulated that a new osmium mine was found in the northern territories a gala such as this was almost guaranteed. Of course, the nobles wouldn't be discussing the actual finding of the mine: afterall, it isn't social to discuss how a mining team is rooting around for a vein of iron ore and suddenly finds the entire 15-man crew dead from noxious osmium fumes. The discussion would be much lighter and along the lines of placating each other and offering pats on the back. This is a great find that will make many people rich, it will offer a resource to bolster weaponsmiths and armorers by giving them a new outlet for a rare commodity. A novelty even, in most cases.
When I find him, I'm going to have to make sure he's in line with the way he used to be. Too many of these have turned out to be traitors to my father.
Anais' eyes continue to scan over the dancing couples and old men huddled around, stacks of worthless medals pinned to ornate sashes to help give a visual cue to the pecking order. Lady Hieras is tolerating the whole affair to track down a duke her father had served under. When her father died, many of the nobles around him turned their back on him, speaking mixed words out of the corners of their mouth, even at his funeral.
Her father had been a stauch naitonalist, and was a vocal political opponent to the coup of Knife's Edge years ago. Most nobles went with the flow, two-faced politicians who merely wanted to stay in the good graces of the new government. But Marquis Hieras was verbal about his discontent, and almost became a pariah for it. No doubt there were insidious plots behind his back to have him disposed of, but unfortunately his heart beat them to it.
Anais steps forward along the ballroom, surveying the crowd carefully as the brown fabric of her dress swirls around her legs in a floor-length skirt. She was intent on finding him- if there's one person her father had always spoke highly of, it was Duke Gaintry. Even after arriving back in Salvar, she was woefully strapped for resources and support, meaning it would be impossible for her to complete her goal: taking back her land that brigands had stolen. At this point, she had to grasp any straws she could for finding help in her conquest.
I still have to wonder if he's loyal enough to be someone who can help me, or if he's another turncoat like the rest of these traitorous bastards.
As she crossed the room, her cold gaze falls across more and more faces that turn and spy her, looking away quickly with surprise and distrust. No doubt that the dress hanging low on the shoulder and exposing many of her scars is the source of the sideways glances from the spineless well-to-do. Even as her eyes scour the crowd, she feels even more eyes fall back on her...
The baroness tugs gently at the side of her dress, immensely uncomfortable. She didn't much care for formal attire anyways, and the dress she had borrowed didn't fit quite right. Even now the corest hugs her waist too tight and makes her huff at the end of each breath and the stitching on the side scratches against her ribs. Her eyes scan over the immense banquet room carefully, all varieties of nobility crowding around, laughing and dancing and drinking expensive wines. The banquet hall is an immense room with white marble walls and ivory columns that seems to swell with Salvar's upper curst packed in. The dress she loathes at the moment is a necessary evil- in order to get into the gala she was forced to shed her armor. It seems that revelry is an exclusive affair and events like this required dressing to the nines to even get past the front door.
Most of the Slavic elite are in this room, surely he's got to be living it up around here someplace.
The Salvic nobility don't waste any excuse to throw ostentatious celebrations; so when word had circulated that a new osmium mine was found in the northern territories a gala such as this was almost guaranteed. Of course, the nobles wouldn't be discussing the actual finding of the mine: afterall, it isn't social to discuss how a mining team is rooting around for a vein of iron ore and suddenly finds the entire 15-man crew dead from noxious osmium fumes. The discussion would be much lighter and along the lines of placating each other and offering pats on the back. This is a great find that will make many people rich, it will offer a resource to bolster weaponsmiths and armorers by giving them a new outlet for a rare commodity. A novelty even, in most cases.
When I find him, I'm going to have to make sure he's in line with the way he used to be. Too many of these have turned out to be traitors to my father.
Anais' eyes continue to scan over the dancing couples and old men huddled around, stacks of worthless medals pinned to ornate sashes to help give a visual cue to the pecking order. Lady Hieras is tolerating the whole affair to track down a duke her father had served under. When her father died, many of the nobles around him turned their back on him, speaking mixed words out of the corners of their mouth, even at his funeral.
Her father had been a stauch naitonalist, and was a vocal political opponent to the coup of Knife's Edge years ago. Most nobles went with the flow, two-faced politicians who merely wanted to stay in the good graces of the new government. But Marquis Hieras was verbal about his discontent, and almost became a pariah for it. No doubt there were insidious plots behind his back to have him disposed of, but unfortunately his heart beat them to it.
Anais steps forward along the ballroom, surveying the crowd carefully as the brown fabric of her dress swirls around her legs in a floor-length skirt. She was intent on finding him- if there's one person her father had always spoke highly of, it was Duke Gaintry. Even after arriving back in Salvar, she was woefully strapped for resources and support, meaning it would be impossible for her to complete her goal: taking back her land that brigands had stolen. At this point, she had to grasp any straws she could for finding help in her conquest.
I still have to wonder if he's loyal enough to be someone who can help me, or if he's another turncoat like the rest of these traitorous bastards.
As she crossed the room, her cold gaze falls across more and more faces that turn and spy her, looking away quickly with surprise and distrust. No doubt that the dress hanging low on the shoulder and exposing many of her scars is the source of the sideways glances from the spineless well-to-do. Even as her eyes scour the crowd, she feels even more eyes fall back on her...