505-10-21 Open Council

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Open Council
RL Date	August 8, 2008
Players	Empress Mena, Duchess Arianell, Duchess Catelyn, Duke Phineas, Duke Raziel, many nobles and citizens
Location	Crossroads, Gateway Isle
Crossroads Time and Weather
IC Date	October 21, 505 A.G.
Season	Autumn

Great Hall - Gateway Castle
Opulent and decadent, the great hall speaks of wealth and privilege, its sheer majesty designed to impress and intimidate. The walls arch upwards to a vaulted ceiling, making the room appear nearly cavernous. Rich woven tapestries decorate each of the four walls, all depicting a scene from the various lands who unite at the Crossroads. Crystal globes that shed a soft, white glow are cunningly attached to the walls as if to appear a part of them, giving the appearance that the walls emanate a glow without outside assistance.
It is easy to tell this is also serves as a meeting point, sometimes even a bartering hall for trade. Tables are set at any one time to offer quiet conversations or loud boisterous parties. Upon the air lingers the rich smell of perfumes and foods, blended to create an utopia of sensations. Textures of every kind offer a variety of sensations - soft velvet-covered furnishings, marbled floors, tapestries of the finest weave, and elegant, highly-polished tables all serve the same dual purpose - to invite, and yet hold at arm's length those who are only visitors here. The walls, while vaulted, are also covered in small peaks and valleys to allow light and dark to move in a swirling dance, reflecting off of the marble-topped floors that are flecked with gold. Stunning in its radiance, it is easy to see why crowds and people are irresistibly drawn to this central location.

Princess Eleanor has been a bit distracted but she's been settled in her seat for some time. Near the seats that would hold the Emperor and Empress. Her knights loiter not to far from her. The princess offers a bow of her head to those that come in.

The Duchess Draught moves through the door and for her usual seat at the table, nodding to the other council members along the way. She slides into her chair, hands folding in her lap as she waits patiently for the public council to start.

Phineas rises to his feet when Mena arrives, resting the tankard on the table. He gives a bow in her direction. The two miniature glow-pups warming Aileana's seat give their own equivalent of such when Phin does, getting to all fours and bending their heads down, butts up in the air.

With little fanfare that accompanies the entrance, the Empress walks in from the East Hall, escorted by two Imperial Knights selected for the duty tonight. Formal in both expression and posture as she walks, the progression of her pregnancy has reached the quite obvious stage. Her confident steps bring her to the chair just next to that left empty for the Emperor.

Duchess Arianell stands as well when the Empress enters, looking to the empty chair next to herself with a brief, muted sigh. Her curtsey is a bit awkward, due to her own bulging belly, though she does attempt the gesture.

Princess Eleanor rises from her seat when she takes notice of the Empress entry. Dropping into a curtsey.

Mogur Imperius rises with the others, sinking down into a deep curtsey for the Empress.

One of the glow-puppies gives a little bark for the Empress before laying down on Aileana's chair again. The other just quietly curls up.

Macsen is the knight on the Empress's left, and as she reaches her chair he halts half a pace behind.

Catelyn rises with the group only to lower into a curtsy for the Empress as she passes.

The Empress glances around the gathering briefly, then inclines her head to each ducal representative before settling into the chair provided for her. "Good evening to all, and welcome," she greets in a voice that easily carries through the hall and up to the balcony. "Please, be seated and we shall get started."

Phineas relaxes in his chair again, reaching for his tankard and resting it against his chest. His free hand reaches for the chair at his side, ruffling the ears of the puppies absently.

Duke Raziel is already seated, but he rises, when the Empress makes her arrival, and thusly seats himself anew, giving her a warm smile and an incline of his head. Otherwise, he remains quiet.

Duchess Arianell drops back into her seat a bit heavily, shifting her weight around in her chair and smoothing her skirts as she tries to get comfortable.

"I would start this council meeting with passed on greetings from the Emperor," Mena does start, her dark gaze moving over the crowd as she speaks her first. "His Majesty is very sorry he could not be here this evening, but wishes all to know his pride in the people of the Empire, and how they have been working together as well all adjust to his physical absence. You all have the gratitude of us both." There is sincerity in the Empress's words, though a formal one. She does not pause before she jumps into business. "And now, we shall hear the ducal reports. This evening, we shall hear from Mists first," she decides, looking to Raziel expectantly.

Rising, Raziel pauses as he looks over the Council, first, noting the expression of each with his mismatched eyes before sweeping a glance about the assembly gathered in higher rungs, then focusing his intensity upon the Empress. "As some have heard," he ventures, then, voice measured to carry throughout, "There is some calamity upon Mists. A rogue group of mages, seeking to anoint themselves in power have stretched their hands across the Isle, beginning a carefully orchestrated murdering spree. We believe at this time we know where such is coming from, and are working with the nobles of the land as well as the High Council and Magistrate to remove them as quickly as possible," he begins. "Mists has also lent a small portion of its land, for the time being, to Draught in accord of a working friendship with the Isle, and its ingenious people. Those curious over the matter will see the results soon."

A brief smile, then, towards Catelyn, "And, lastly," he says without missing a breath, turning back to the Empress, "Trade, and capital, tithe and commerce are all up, significantly upon Mists as more and more of our youths venture between the Isle and here, to attend University as they bring friends and spread word of the nature of the Isle to others and more, and more who never would have thought or considered to set foot there do so, and lend coin and word of mouth to merchants and activity there. Despite some misfortunes, the Isle, and its people, are seeing some real results and clear recovery is taking place since we were set back by Vox, and his cohorts." He seems somewhat pleased, about this. A slow nod, then, to the Empress, and he sits down, carefully, having said all he needed to.

Mena inclines her head slowly to Raziel. "Your diligence in keeping both Mists and the Empire safe is admirable, Your Grace. Thank you for your efforts." She then turns her attention to her brother, the barefoot and tankard-laden Phineas. "Green Fields?"

Phineas eases to his feet, his tankard kept held in his cherishing fashion, and he even pauses before speaking to take a drink. "Well now Majesty, Your Graces, nobles and citizens," he begins with the twang of his accent a good-ole-boy drawl, more pronounced than normal. "As everyone knows, we're getting ready for Harvest on the Fields, and it looks like it's goin' to be a decent crop year. Ana and I want to extend an open invitation to anyone to come. We're going to have the party ship-- or ships, if need be-- take off from the docks on October twenty seventh, but expect to arrive on the Fields and work yer ass off all day long, then celebrate for half the night. It'll be about a week or so of work, we anticipate, maybe a bit more this year from some of the crops. If you've never been to Harvest, there ain't nothing like it, so come and experience it." The Duke of Green Fields speaks with relish of the upcoming event, and then takes a pull from his ale. "What else.."

".. ah yeah. Last year we had about fourteen men wounded across the Fields in the fire jump, so this year some healers have been suggesting that men shave everything beneath the waist so there's nothing to catch fire quite as easily. So if yer coming and yer participating in the Fire Jump, well, we recommend that ya get the hair off of yer ass and yer danglies. The Split Peach's girls are runnin' a special on it, they'll do it for two silver if ya need someone to help out with it," Phineas speaks so very casually about this, as if it's an every day occurrence, but there's a wickedly amused light in his dark eyes. Another drink of his ale.

"Also, almost forgot, some farmer's managed to graft a couple of apple types together and he's come up with something new, this pinkish apple with a firm skin and very tart flesh, more like a green, but it's juicy as can be. He's calling it the Ana Apple. Expect that the crop'll be small, so put yer orders in fast. We're having the hog auction after the harvest, too, so anyone who wants one of the prize hogs for a good time of good eatin', send me word personal and I'll take care of some bidding fer ya." Phineas squints while he thinks. "That's about it."

One of the glow-pups tries to climb over the arm of Aileana's chair and into Phin's lap when he sits again. He murmurs something to it, quelling the dog's actions, and then reaches over to keep scritching the canine while he sips at his tankard.

Duke Raziel can't help but smirk in a amusement, some, at Phineas' words. He coughs, politely, and then settles back, waiting for the other Duchies.

Mena presses her lips together here and there during Phineas's report, but manages quite clearly to keep a straight face through the report. "Thank you, Duke Green Fields, for your colorful report, as usual. May the generosity of the Fields always be thus. Enjoy the harvest," she says with a bit of a smile. It is with that smile that her regard sweeps over to Arianell. "Guardian?"

"I hope you'll all forgive me if I don't stand," Nell says as her turn comes around, twisting a rueful smile both to the council table and to both balconies. "But Guardian is slowly healing. Eadric and I are doing our best to meet with tribal leaders who have previously felt left out of events, and are searching for an appropriate baron or baroness for Smithfield. One who will hopefully be able to see past the partisan viewpoints of the past and into a more unified future."

She reaches up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, smile quirking. "Construction on the temple is proceeding apace. I know it may seem slow to some, but we want it to be a labor of love, the work of many, and so much of it is being done by hand." She pauses, looking ruefully toward the door. "I suspect that's where my husband is right now."

The smile fades, though, after a moment. "I want everyone to know that we are aware of the strange goings on around the temple, of threats and poems, and who knows what else. But like we said when Vox threatened the people of Gateway: We are not afraid. Remember that together, we are strong, and while we love our neighbors and lend each other a hand, no one can defeat us." With that, she looks back to the Empress, a vaguely apologetic, sheepish cast to her smile.

Phin's expression is concealed behind his tankard with a drink as Nell talks of Vox.

Mena inclines her head slowly to Arianell. "Hear hear, Your Grace. Very well stated, thank you. We should all remember such things when there are dangers that threaten our great people." She gives the woman a smile, then looks toward Catelyn. "And Draught?"

Catelyn pushes to her feet, voice rising enough so that it carries clearly through the Great Hall, "Some may have heard recently about what has been dubbed a flying ship, or even seen glimpses of it. That is indeed something that Draught has been working towards for many years now. What many have witnesses are the successful test runs done in cooperation with some very helpful Mistians and their Duke who, as he has mentioned, was kind enough to lend the space necessary in order to conduct this additional testing. Should these tests continue to prove as successful as they have, we may well have a civilian flight run for any who are interested in doing so."

She pauses to first look around at the faces of the council members and then a sweeping gaze over the balconies. "Any who might be interested in this are welcome to contact me." There is another brief pause as she switches to drier topics, "Trade and commerce have increased slightly in recent months, and enrolment in the Colleges seems to be on the rise again after dipping slightly in the last few years. Something that we Draughten's have found encouraging. I believe that is all." She smiles over at the Empress before retaking her seat.

Macsen's attention has moved in a practiced, visible sweep of the hall as the reports continue. Nothing (save for the dog's movement, which draws a longer look and lifted eyebrows) appears to distract from that slow scan.

"Wonderful," The Empress replies to Catelyn with a smile. "On all counts, Your Grace. We very much look forward to seeing this flying vessel." With that said, her eyes once more take in the gathered, touching on each balcony for a long moment. "Before I make any Imperial announcements, we would like to invite any that have something they wish to bring forward to the council to step up at this time."

The Empress waits for a few minutes to see if anyone will come forward before she looks around again and smiles. "I shall take the absence of people coming forward as a good sign. Very well. We have two announcements this evening. Duke Regent Raziel Devonshire," she says, her gaze sweeping to the man. "If you would please come forward."

Duke Raziel pauses, then inclines his head, "Of course, Your Majesty." He rises, then, from his seat and takes a few simple steps towards the Empress' seat, and thus waits, for whatever may be his fate, here.

Mogur Imperius lets her blue-green gaze wander from the Empress to Raziel and her brow quirks ever so slightly, betraying some interest. She's even stopped fiddling with the elaborate bracelet on her right hand.

"Your Grace," The Empress starts in that same formal tone, her expression falling back to the same. "In the years you have served as Regent of Mists, you have assisted the Empire with all of your efforts. Your work in keeping Mists running smoothly and defending the people of these great lands has not gone unnoticed by the Imperial Seat. It is with this in mind that on this day, We grant to you the position of Duke Mists. Lord Solomon Karaganinas shall remain your heir and take on the mantle of Duke in his own right at your death, or retirement, whichever might come first. The line of Mists shall continue with the Marquis's heirs after that. The Emperor sends his congratulations on your new appointment, Duke Raziel Devonshire. Congratulations."

Phineas makes a sound like, 'huh', and takes a drink from his tankard, midnight eyes pinned on Raziel.

Catelyn's brows lift only slightly at the announcement from the Empress, though her gaze is fixed on the Duke Mists.

Princess Eleanor inclines her head towards Raziel when she hears that announcement from the Empress. That's her quiet version of, 'Congratulations' to the man.

"Oh." Nell's brows rise for a moment before she smiles swiftly, clapping impulsively for the new Duke.

Macsen makes no congratulations, of course, though he and the other knight now have their quiet and seemingly amiable attention fixed on Raziel as he stands before the Empress.

There's no clapping from Green Fields, just the duke continuing to sip at his tankard of ale and watch Raziel, almost unblinking. Then he glances away, about those at the table.

Duke Raziel bows, low, and supple at the Empress' words, "It is I who am honored, Majesty, by both you and the Keeper's convictions. I shall aspire to continue to keep your faith, and I shall not fail you, or Mists," he speaks to her, while still bowed. Then, he rises, smoothly, taking a slow breath, and managing a faint, but very humble measure of a smile. After a pause, he turns, moving back to the table of the Council, his gaze sweeps across the two balconies, the southern first, then northern; and there it lingers a moment as if fixated upon a singular figure, if only momentary as he returns to his seat.

Mena gives another deep inclination of her head to Raziel, watching the man retake his seat for a moment before taking a deep breath. "One more announcement for this evening, and one that it gives Us great joy to share. His Majesty and I do hereby proudly accept the suit of Marquis Dorian Claremont for the hand of Our daughter, Princess Firenza Caprios to be wedded when she is of age. It is a great pleasure for Us to share in such a union with both the Claremonts, and by extension, Draught, in the hopes of maintaining what has long been a great relationship." To this, she smiles warmly and inclines her head to the Duchess Draught.

Phineas lifts his tankard toward Cate with that announcement. "Sweetest girl in the imperial tower. She'll be good for the Marquis," he says toward her.

Catelyn looks very much like the proud mother for a moment, even if the Marquis isn't here, then smiles warmly at the Empress, "Thank you, Your Majesty. We are honored."

Duke Raziel inclines his head to Catelyn, "Congratulations, Your Grace. A fine match," he says, gently, and sincerely.

"As are We, Your Grace," Mena replies to Catelyn with another smile, then starts to push up to her feet. "And that brings us to the end of this evening's Council. Thank you all for attending, and We bid you all a good evening."

Phineas pushes to his feet to bow for Mena, a snap of his hand having the glow-puppies doing the same. Then the dogs drop down to the floor, and the Green Fields duke gives a casual, "'Eve," to everyone at the table. He wanders off quickly, headed to who knows what business.

The Empress turns and heads toward the exit she came in from, the Knights once more following her out.

As the Empress moves to stand, Macsen and the other knight move up beside the chair in support and then escort her from the hall.

Duke Raziel rises as well, nodding to those gathered once again. He, too, begins to move out without word to attend to other affairs, it seems noting quietly, "Good evening, Majesty. Your Graces. And, all in attendance." A nod to those gathered in the balconies, before he makes his retreat.

Nell sighs as the meeting ends without an appearance by her husband, grimacing faintly at the empty seat. She rises when the Empress does, if slowly, then turns to look toward the balconies, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

Mogur Imperius rises from her chair as the Empress does and waits until some of the others leave before she does as well, sweeping from the chamber with barely a glance to those around her, much less a word.

Catelyn as well, following the procession of council members that seem to be making a quick departure.