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rainbowfic2016-02-13 09:35 pm
shadowsong26) wrote in rainbowfic2016-02-13 09:35 pm
Plant Party #40, Oliphaunt Grey #6, Fluorite #17
Name: shadowsong26
Story: Gaining Access
'Verse: Untitled Intrigues Story
Colors: Plant Party #40. Snowdonia Hawkweed, Oliphaunt Grey #6. To land of gloom with tramp of doom, Fluorite #17. Finished/Incomplete
Supplies and Materials: brush (tribulation), watercolors (fish out of water), glue ("Your interpersonal interactions are complicated today since unresolved emotional issues might be dragging you down. Act with cautious reserve")
Word Count: 1997
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Ahnrel, Kamer, Malue
Warnings: Don't think so, not for this one.
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always. Mods, could I have a tag for Untitled Intrigues Story, please? (Also, title suggestions are welcome!)
Dear Sir,
I have safely arrived in Nandere. I've been dealing mostly with the Crown Prince thus far. I should finally be meeting with King Malue later this week. For now, sir, unlss you tell me otherwise, I'll focus on intelligence gathering. I have at least been learning a great deal from the courtiers, I think. From what I've heard, the king is a serious, pious, and reasonable man. I have every confidence in the success of my mission...
Ahnrel put his pen down and stretched, cracking his neck a little. He'd lied to his father, at least a little bit. He'd been here a full three days, and he was pretty sure Crown Prince Enairi was deliberately keeping him from the king. He didn't know Enairi well enough to tell if that was due to him just resenting the Church's influence or because of an issue with his specific mission here.
He hoped it was the first. The first, he could work with. There were plenty of insular, stubborn people at home in the Holy City. He knew how to charm people. He just had to figure out what charmed Enairi.
Enairi was clearly the gatekeeper to Malue. And he was a particularly stubborn, closed-off sort of man. Ahnrel had his work cut out for him with that one.
Though, to be totally honest with himself, Enairi wasn't all that unusual--more extreme than most, maybe, but Ahnrel had a feeling his father had seriously understated how closed-off the Nanderese nobility really was. Another lie in his letter--he was having less luck getting anyone to open up than he'd dared let on.
Maybe he could write Sefalin for advice. Sef was better at this than he was.
Of course, Sef sometimes came on too strong. That might put the people here off. Trust Father to know exactly how best to use his sons.
There had been at least one completely honest part to Ahnrel's report home, though, and that was King Malue's reputation. What little people had told him had painted the man as serious and earnest and well-intentioned. Of course, that might be--probably was--biased. Ahnrel wouldn't know for sure until he actually got to meet the king. Even if, for the moment, that seemed an impossible dream.
Well, sulking about it wouldn't get him his meeting any faster. Nor would harassing Enairi, as much as he sort of enjoyed needling the dour prince.
Maybe he could--no, it would probably anger the wrong factions if he went to the Dowager Queen. And besides, she wasn't close to her sons. This, at least, was common knowledge.
So, he was left with little choice other than to try and dance attendance on and with the other nobles and envoys Enairi wouldn't let close. Again.
Ahnrel shut his writing desk, stood up, and went to put on what passed, for a priest, as formal court wear. One of the advantages to his dedication, he supposed. He could actually get dressed and make himself presentable without an extra pair of hands. As much as he sometimes wished he could be a little more flashy--he was the High Priest's son, after all--he valued his privacy more.
Besides, on reflection, Malue's court was a little more sedate than the Holy City. If he actually did dress himself as ornately as a small, secret part of him really wanted, he might scandalize them more than a little.
Which might be fun, but was definitely counter-productive.
First came one of his concessions to his secret vanity--soft, cream leggings of a super-fine wool, subtly embroidered in white thread a shade or two brighter than the fabric. They fit him like a glove, nearly shining against his skin, which was the color of warm wood. A plain linen shirt came next, followed by a voluminous coat in the grassy green of his order, serving the earth goddess. This coat was decorated with all the badges of his rank embroidered in golds and scarlets. His hair, softer than Neiali's but thicker than Sef's, he tamed into a club at the nape of his neck.
Satisfied that he was presentable, he headed for the door, to go rejoin the court for the evening.
As with every time he'd stepped out of his rooms since his arrival here three days ago, as soon as Ahnrel stepped outside the door, one of the palace guards fell into step behind him.
He nodded briefly to the guard--one he recognized, small and compact with intense blue eyes.
The guard bowed slightly in response, and accompanied him down the hall.
Ahnrel felt the silence between them weighing on him. It was a long walk from his quarters to the public, social part of the court, and he had to make that trek with a nameless shadow. It was a very uncomfortable feeling.
"What's your name?" he finally asked, half-expecting the guard not to answer. Well, if he had to just talk to himself to fill the silence, that was better than nothing.
But, to his surprise, the shorter man responded after a beat. "Kamer," he said softly. "My name is Kamer, Excellency."
Ahnrel made a face. He shouldn't be "Excellency," he didn't have that much rank, at least not within his order, and the Holy City wasn't supposed to assign rank according to blood relations.
But Father had named him ambassador to a powerful kingdom. In this context, he supposed, the title might be appropriate. He'd just have to get used to it.
"Kamer," he repeated. "It's nice to meet you, Kemer."
"Yes, Excellency."
"So, were you assigned to me specifically, or do you and the other guards rotate?"
"I was assigned to you for the late afternoon and early evening hours, Excellency," Kamer replied. "There are others in the night and during the day."
"I see." Ahnrel wanted to ask more--if only to learn a little more of the day-to-day functioning of Malue's court, maybe even get someone solidly on his side here. Even if a guard didn't have influence...Ahnrel might not have been as smart or subtle or politically inclined as Father or Sef, but even he knew that guards and servants were far more useful than the more arrogant courtiers tended to credit.
But, for the moment, at least, he had to shelve those plans. He and Kamer had arrived at the king's main reception hall.
It was a large, imposing room with a high vaulted ceiling. The walls were largely left unpainted, revealing smooth and expertly joined white and grey marble. The whole room gave the impression of cold, rigid, forbidding authority that the hunreds of candles scattered around did little to dispell. There were thick, dark blue rugs on the floor--a concession, Ahnrel supposed, to the human needs of the courtiers. He, for one, was grateful it was summer. The audience hall would probably be incredibly uncomfortable when it was cold.
The room was already half-full with courtiers, milling about and conversing in low tones. All were dressed in the fashions of Malue's court--opulent, but subtle. The ladies were all in muted colors--greyscale and dull, dark colors on the older women, and soft pastels on the maidens. All were dripping with lace, displayed on skirts so wide they almost seemed hazardous. The fabrics themselves were solid and plain, but very fine, with display left for the lace. Any jewelry they were wearing followed a similar pattern--simple settings to let flawless gems speak for themselves.
The men's dress was similarly extreme in shape and understated in color, letting those details capture one's eyes.
Everything about the Court of Nandere was austere but beautiful, unadorned but drawing attention nonetheless. Ahnrel felt slightly gaudy in his decorated coat by comparison. He certainly drew eyes when he and Kamer entered.
Kamer fell back to the wall, joining a line of similarly blank-faced men and women in uniforms. The femal guards, unlike their noble counterparts, were practically dressed, with narrow, split skirts. Ahnrel would even wager that the skirts were detachable if necessary.
So, it wasn't just potentially suspicious foreign envoys who merited shadows. Ahnrel had never noticed that before. Clearly, he should have started paying attention to Kamer and his fellows sooner.
The low buzz of conversation resumed after a moment, and Ahnrel began circulating, exchanging vague pleasantries and trying to decide who to try to court first. He still didn't feel like he had enough of a grasp of Nanderre's political currents to to make a solid guess, and if he made the wrong one--
The crowd on the other side of the room stilled for a second, and everyone turned to see the source of the disturbance.
Into the sudden silence, one of the stone-faced heralds on the inner door to the room announced, "The king!"
As one, the guards along the walls dropped to one knee in a fluid motion. For his part, Ahnrel took his cue from the courtiers around him, sinking into and holding a half-bow.
He was able to look up without being obvious, at least, and got his first look at King Malue.
The king was tall and fair, and looked younger than his thirty-four years. He had dark hair, cut close to his head, and wore a simiple silver circlet as his only badge of rank. Otherwise, he wore a severe dark suit indistinguishable from any other gentleman of the court--in fact, with his (comparatively) minimal lace and jewelry (more, in Nandere, a masculine affectation than a feminine one), he was dressed a great deal more plainly than most.
The King was flanked by his guards, of course, and accompanied by his brother and heir. Crown Prince Enairi was of a height with his brother, if not a shade taller. He was blond, with blue eyes that, in Ahnrel's experience, were icy and unforgiving. His suit was charcoal-grey, of a simpler cut than his brother's, but with significantly more lace. He wore a golden chain around his neck, and a handful of rings flashed on his fingers.
Malue and his entourage were getting closer. Ahnrel dropped his eyes carefully--they shouldn't be able to see him looking, he was at least good at that, but better safe than sorry.
A pair of shining black boots entered his field of vision and paused. Ahnrel's heart skipped a few beats as it moved up to lodge firmly in his throat.
"You are, I believe, the envoy of High Priest Jenairin, yes?" The king--this must be the king--had a lighter voice than Ahnrel had expected, a soft and almost pleasant tenor that floated in the hall's smoky air.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"And you are his son?"
"I am, Majesty," Ahnrel replied. "The eldest."
"I see."
The priest dared to look up, and for an instant met King Malue's eyes. They were golden and guarded, hard and bright as polished amber.
Malue smiled faintly. "I think we should meet, Excellency. Come to me tomorrow, two hours after noon."
Ahnrel bowed deeper. "As you will, Majesty."
As he lowered his eyes, he caught a glimpse of Enairi--clearly displeased, but loyal enough to his brother to say nothing.
As the king and his entourage proceeded out of the room and Ahnrel found himself suddenly the focuse of frenzied speculation and interest, he felt a cold sweat start working its way down his spine.
He was in now, for better or for worse. He distractedly accepted a handful of invitations as he pushed towards the exit as fast as decorum would allow.
Kamer fell into step behind him, and Ahnrel fought for calm as he retreated to his rooms--no attempts to engage his guard now, oh no.
He'd finally gotten what he--what his father--wanted.
And now he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just stepped in range of an armed explosive.
He stripped off his coat and stared out the window, taking as deep a breath as he could muster.
One thing, at least, was certain--he was really in for it now.
Story: Gaining Access
'Verse: Untitled Intrigues Story
Colors: Plant Party #40. Snowdonia Hawkweed, Oliphaunt Grey #6. To land of gloom with tramp of doom, Fluorite #17. Finished/Incomplete
Supplies and Materials: brush (tribulation), watercolors (fish out of water), glue ("Your interpersonal interactions are complicated today since unresolved emotional issues might be dragging you down. Act with cautious reserve")
Word Count: 1997
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Ahnrel, Kamer, Malue
Warnings: Don't think so, not for this one.
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always. Mods, could I have a tag for Untitled Intrigues Story, please? (Also, title suggestions are welcome!)
Dear Sir,
I have safely arrived in Nandere. I've been dealing mostly with the Crown Prince thus far. I should finally be meeting with King Malue later this week. For now, sir, unlss you tell me otherwise, I'll focus on intelligence gathering. I have at least been learning a great deal from the courtiers, I think. From what I've heard, the king is a serious, pious, and reasonable man. I have every confidence in the success of my mission...
Ahnrel put his pen down and stretched, cracking his neck a little. He'd lied to his father, at least a little bit. He'd been here a full three days, and he was pretty sure Crown Prince Enairi was deliberately keeping him from the king. He didn't know Enairi well enough to tell if that was due to him just resenting the Church's influence or because of an issue with his specific mission here.
He hoped it was the first. The first, he could work with. There were plenty of insular, stubborn people at home in the Holy City. He knew how to charm people. He just had to figure out what charmed Enairi.
Enairi was clearly the gatekeeper to Malue. And he was a particularly stubborn, closed-off sort of man. Ahnrel had his work cut out for him with that one.
Though, to be totally honest with himself, Enairi wasn't all that unusual--more extreme than most, maybe, but Ahnrel had a feeling his father had seriously understated how closed-off the Nanderese nobility really was. Another lie in his letter--he was having less luck getting anyone to open up than he'd dared let on.
Maybe he could write Sefalin for advice. Sef was better at this than he was.
Of course, Sef sometimes came on too strong. That might put the people here off. Trust Father to know exactly how best to use his sons.
There had been at least one completely honest part to Ahnrel's report home, though, and that was King Malue's reputation. What little people had told him had painted the man as serious and earnest and well-intentioned. Of course, that might be--probably was--biased. Ahnrel wouldn't know for sure until he actually got to meet the king. Even if, for the moment, that seemed an impossible dream.
Well, sulking about it wouldn't get him his meeting any faster. Nor would harassing Enairi, as much as he sort of enjoyed needling the dour prince.
Maybe he could--no, it would probably anger the wrong factions if he went to the Dowager Queen. And besides, she wasn't close to her sons. This, at least, was common knowledge.
So, he was left with little choice other than to try and dance attendance on and with the other nobles and envoys Enairi wouldn't let close. Again.
Ahnrel shut his writing desk, stood up, and went to put on what passed, for a priest, as formal court wear. One of the advantages to his dedication, he supposed. He could actually get dressed and make himself presentable without an extra pair of hands. As much as he sometimes wished he could be a little more flashy--he was the High Priest's son, after all--he valued his privacy more.
Besides, on reflection, Malue's court was a little more sedate than the Holy City. If he actually did dress himself as ornately as a small, secret part of him really wanted, he might scandalize them more than a little.
Which might be fun, but was definitely counter-productive.
First came one of his concessions to his secret vanity--soft, cream leggings of a super-fine wool, subtly embroidered in white thread a shade or two brighter than the fabric. They fit him like a glove, nearly shining against his skin, which was the color of warm wood. A plain linen shirt came next, followed by a voluminous coat in the grassy green of his order, serving the earth goddess. This coat was decorated with all the badges of his rank embroidered in golds and scarlets. His hair, softer than Neiali's but thicker than Sef's, he tamed into a club at the nape of his neck.
Satisfied that he was presentable, he headed for the door, to go rejoin the court for the evening.
As with every time he'd stepped out of his rooms since his arrival here three days ago, as soon as Ahnrel stepped outside the door, one of the palace guards fell into step behind him.
He nodded briefly to the guard--one he recognized, small and compact with intense blue eyes.
The guard bowed slightly in response, and accompanied him down the hall.
Ahnrel felt the silence between them weighing on him. It was a long walk from his quarters to the public, social part of the court, and he had to make that trek with a nameless shadow. It was a very uncomfortable feeling.
"What's your name?" he finally asked, half-expecting the guard not to answer. Well, if he had to just talk to himself to fill the silence, that was better than nothing.
But, to his surprise, the shorter man responded after a beat. "Kamer," he said softly. "My name is Kamer, Excellency."
Ahnrel made a face. He shouldn't be "Excellency," he didn't have that much rank, at least not within his order, and the Holy City wasn't supposed to assign rank according to blood relations.
But Father had named him ambassador to a powerful kingdom. In this context, he supposed, the title might be appropriate. He'd just have to get used to it.
"Kamer," he repeated. "It's nice to meet you, Kemer."
"Yes, Excellency."
"So, were you assigned to me specifically, or do you and the other guards rotate?"
"I was assigned to you for the late afternoon and early evening hours, Excellency," Kamer replied. "There are others in the night and during the day."
"I see." Ahnrel wanted to ask more--if only to learn a little more of the day-to-day functioning of Malue's court, maybe even get someone solidly on his side here. Even if a guard didn't have influence...Ahnrel might not have been as smart or subtle or politically inclined as Father or Sef, but even he knew that guards and servants were far more useful than the more arrogant courtiers tended to credit.
But, for the moment, at least, he had to shelve those plans. He and Kamer had arrived at the king's main reception hall.
It was a large, imposing room with a high vaulted ceiling. The walls were largely left unpainted, revealing smooth and expertly joined white and grey marble. The whole room gave the impression of cold, rigid, forbidding authority that the hunreds of candles scattered around did little to dispell. There were thick, dark blue rugs on the floor--a concession, Ahnrel supposed, to the human needs of the courtiers. He, for one, was grateful it was summer. The audience hall would probably be incredibly uncomfortable when it was cold.
The room was already half-full with courtiers, milling about and conversing in low tones. All were dressed in the fashions of Malue's court--opulent, but subtle. The ladies were all in muted colors--greyscale and dull, dark colors on the older women, and soft pastels on the maidens. All were dripping with lace, displayed on skirts so wide they almost seemed hazardous. The fabrics themselves were solid and plain, but very fine, with display left for the lace. Any jewelry they were wearing followed a similar pattern--simple settings to let flawless gems speak for themselves.
The men's dress was similarly extreme in shape and understated in color, letting those details capture one's eyes.
Everything about the Court of Nandere was austere but beautiful, unadorned but drawing attention nonetheless. Ahnrel felt slightly gaudy in his decorated coat by comparison. He certainly drew eyes when he and Kamer entered.
Kamer fell back to the wall, joining a line of similarly blank-faced men and women in uniforms. The femal guards, unlike their noble counterparts, were practically dressed, with narrow, split skirts. Ahnrel would even wager that the skirts were detachable if necessary.
So, it wasn't just potentially suspicious foreign envoys who merited shadows. Ahnrel had never noticed that before. Clearly, he should have started paying attention to Kamer and his fellows sooner.
The low buzz of conversation resumed after a moment, and Ahnrel began circulating, exchanging vague pleasantries and trying to decide who to try to court first. He still didn't feel like he had enough of a grasp of Nanderre's political currents to to make a solid guess, and if he made the wrong one--
The crowd on the other side of the room stilled for a second, and everyone turned to see the source of the disturbance.
Into the sudden silence, one of the stone-faced heralds on the inner door to the room announced, "The king!"
As one, the guards along the walls dropped to one knee in a fluid motion. For his part, Ahnrel took his cue from the courtiers around him, sinking into and holding a half-bow.
He was able to look up without being obvious, at least, and got his first look at King Malue.
The king was tall and fair, and looked younger than his thirty-four years. He had dark hair, cut close to his head, and wore a simiple silver circlet as his only badge of rank. Otherwise, he wore a severe dark suit indistinguishable from any other gentleman of the court--in fact, with his (comparatively) minimal lace and jewelry (more, in Nandere, a masculine affectation than a feminine one), he was dressed a great deal more plainly than most.
The King was flanked by his guards, of course, and accompanied by his brother and heir. Crown Prince Enairi was of a height with his brother, if not a shade taller. He was blond, with blue eyes that, in Ahnrel's experience, were icy and unforgiving. His suit was charcoal-grey, of a simpler cut than his brother's, but with significantly more lace. He wore a golden chain around his neck, and a handful of rings flashed on his fingers.
Malue and his entourage were getting closer. Ahnrel dropped his eyes carefully--they shouldn't be able to see him looking, he was at least good at that, but better safe than sorry.
A pair of shining black boots entered his field of vision and paused. Ahnrel's heart skipped a few beats as it moved up to lodge firmly in his throat.
"You are, I believe, the envoy of High Priest Jenairin, yes?" The king--this must be the king--had a lighter voice than Ahnrel had expected, a soft and almost pleasant tenor that floated in the hall's smoky air.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"And you are his son?"
"I am, Majesty," Ahnrel replied. "The eldest."
"I see."
The priest dared to look up, and for an instant met King Malue's eyes. They were golden and guarded, hard and bright as polished amber.
Malue smiled faintly. "I think we should meet, Excellency. Come to me tomorrow, two hours after noon."
Ahnrel bowed deeper. "As you will, Majesty."
As he lowered his eyes, he caught a glimpse of Enairi--clearly displeased, but loyal enough to his brother to say nothing.
As the king and his entourage proceeded out of the room and Ahnrel found himself suddenly the focuse of frenzied speculation and interest, he felt a cold sweat start working its way down his spine.
He was in now, for better or for worse. He distractedly accepted a handful of invitations as he pushed towards the exit as fast as decorum would allow.
Kamer fell into step behind him, and Ahnrel fought for calm as he retreated to his rooms--no attempts to engage his guard now, oh no.
He'd finally gotten what he--what his father--wanted.
And now he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just stepped in range of an armed explosive.
He stripped off his coat and stared out the window, taking as deep a breath as he could muster.
One thing, at least, was certain--he was really in for it now.