Flowers grow far away on a planet [Open to Rich Betches]

[Ursula Fletcher]

11th of Glade

Olivia Fletcher née Carter was renowned for her salons.

She plotted at least one per season. Themes varied, of course, but the goal - at least the one she claimed - was to educate her guests on some subject or other.

Horticulture. Zaichaeri Theater. Imperial dining customs. And while she would answer, always, that she only hoped to inspire her friends with whatever ideas they might glean from her parties, this wasn’t the whole truth.

Olivia was clever enough, if not always subtle, to use these events to remind her guests - the elite and influential of Zaichaer - about the good the Fletcher (and Carter) family provided to the city. Her daughter’s interest in gardens ensured the parks were included in the family’s philanthropic portfolio. Her - and the Carter’s more generally - generosity to artistic and cultural efforts. And, at the salon studying Imperial dining customs, everyone ate with utensils imported by the Carter Shipping Company.

Today’s theme was: Zaichaer, a history.

Olivia had invited a number of professors from the Greater Institute and scattered them throughout the gardens east - a rowling meadow of all sorts of wildflowers. A grass path winded and branched through the blooms, perfectly manicured. The idea was for guests to wander and explore, asking questions and, hopefully, receiving the right answers.

The Fletcher family’s history was more entwined with the city - and what it was before - than most. Olivia wanted to remind her guests that the Fletchers had, and would always be, dedicated to Zaichaer. There would be no questions about where their loyalties lay.

Now was not a time for that to be questioned.

“And you must -.”

“I know, mother,” Ursula whispered, smiling, “I am not a child. Avoid politics. Smooth over any social anxieties I see. A party is like a symphony. We are the conductors.”

Her mother smiled, a bit strained. They were all worried. War, which meant possible pains to the shipping industry. The recent shaming of once very elite families. History had shown the Fletchers adapted quickly and hadn’t yet picked a losing side. Her father had hand-selected a few new government officials to arrive and be seen - to show that the Fletchers were aligned with the state.

“Good. Be polite, my dear. Be as shining as the sun. Be perfect,” her mother said, already walking away towards a few of the professors, “We cannot afford less.”

Ursula sighed, and then adjusted her posture, her smile, to one of warm welcome. She would be greeting the guests. Explaining the rules of the event.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

First Minister Brenner Dornkirk had ordered a custom-designed suit to complement the theme of the Fletcher/Carter salon. If the theme was to be Zaichaeri history, Brenner wanted to evoke such patriotic notions in his mode of dress. Although the cut of the suit was modern, it was accented with elements from traditional Zaichaeri folk dress. It was subtle enough not to look as though he was wearing a costume, but there were faint patterns woven into the metallic brocade of his suit that would be recognisable to those in the know as harkening back to the days of the monarchy that long predated their current system of State. Old families like the Fletchers and the Angevins might see the references as a tribute to their glorious lineage, or perhaps they would take offence at the upjumped Dornkirk appropriating elements of their history in which his young family never participated. Even his mother's family had been in the Imperium at that time, whilst his father's kin were slaving away in the slums of another age as they did in this one until the prior generation.

As he stepped into light, the brassy sheen on his brocade glistened in a more obvious reference to the so-called 'City of Brass' than the subtle patterns represented. His eyes sought out the hosts of the event, and found the ladies of the house promptly. A smile graced his countenance as he drew closer, and extended a bouquet of Zaichaeri edelweiß to Miss Fletcher. He'd already admitted to being a dilettante when it came to gardening, but he knew this particular flower bore cultural significance to the peoples of the region and it seemed like another way to complement the salon's theme.

"For you, Miss Fletcher." He inclined his head in a nod of greeting to the daughter, before his eyes danced to the mother. "And I did not forget you either, Mrs. Fletcher." He reached into a pocket and produced a small box of Zaichaeri chocolates.

"Hail Zaichaer."

[Ursula Fletcher]

“Hail Zaichaer.”

Mother and daughter spoke together, and together, they offered the First Minister a practiced curtsy.

“Oh, but how generous, First Minister,” her mother said, accepting the chocolate box with both hands. “This is my absolute favorite chocolatier.” she smiled, her eyes catching against the brass accents of his suit. “And how very clever your dress.”

Ursula wondered, at that, before she noticed the bronzed accents herself. Oh, how very sly, she thought, offering her own smile at the Commander. “How exquisite! This isn’t a Broche design, by chance? I do so love her work.”

She received the bouquet of flowers as graciously as her mother had the chocolates, “And Edelweiß, how very darling. They are my family’s flower, did you know? It was, apparently, some Fletcher botanist who’d bred them.”

Her mother nodded, “More than eleven generations ago, or so the history goes,” she looked around, “Ah - those professors. I’ve already told them twice they aren’t spread out enough and it appears I must do so yet again,” she shook her head, “Such is my lot, to be ignored!” She huffed, dramatically.

“But thank you for your gift, First Minister. And we so appreciate you being here,” she said, her eyes flicking off to an approaching figure. "...is that the Arnnett boy?"

Ursula shifted, slightly, to try and get a better look - Myles. Her mother adjusted, a bit less welcoming than she'd been with the First Minister. She'd never approved of Myles and Ursula's friendship.

[Myles Arnnett]

Few things irked Myles more than his social responsibilities, to both state and family. He’d rather spar the meanest minder than deal with the rigors of conversation and wordplay. Still he found himself unable to avoid such situations often due to relentless badgering from his brothers his father and their small militia of messengers. After the forth correspondence of the morning and threat to the effect that if he didn’t attend this event they’d bring one to him soon enough. With his acquiescence gained the messenger seemed to both pity him but still swell with smug pride at being the one to convince him. He was half convinced that whatever messenger got him to do what his family wanted received a bonus. “at least it’s costing” them he hoped.

Sighing Myles prepared himself for what was to come. The note indicated that he would be attending an event hosted by the Fletchers. Myles smirked at the familiar name, he hadn’t seen any of them for a long while, particularly their Heiress. With the dull acceptance of his attendance swallowed Myles stood and began the process of making himself presentable for the elite. With that in mind he prepared a short list and set out to make the most of the few hours he had to prepare. His first stop was Lillimans the finest tailor in the east end. Stepping into the sterile shop Myles rolled his eyes at the latest fashions and the gross misuse of each hue of the rainbow therein. Still he needed to update his wardrobe, he hadn’t shopped since his last promotion over a year ago. The breeches were easy enough, Made from fine cotton and dyed black, decorative brass fasteners added enough subtle color to distinguish the quality of the garment. High boots made of leather and polished to the point of being reflective also caught his eye, though the silver buttons on them would need to be changed. Lastly he sighted a Red velvet vest with a floral pattern woven into it and a black shirt that matched it nicely. Piling all his desired garments before the tailor relieved to have found them with relative ease compared to some previous visits he waited on the price that he knew would temper his good mood.

► Show Spoiler

15 gp for Dyed black leather boots + 5 gp brass button replacements
36 Gp Fine wool dyed black breeches
64 gp Silk red dyed vest that’s embroidered with floral pattern.
15 gp Black dyed dress shirt superfine wool.

Paying the coin he informed the tailor he’d need the alterations done within two hours, which was supposedly impossible, until ten more gold made its way into the tailor’s hand. With that settled he made the short walk to Gildum’s where he had the man clean shave the stubble he’d gathered over the last week of double patrols. With his appearance settled he merely had the task of procuring a “Suitable Gift” as his father had so put it. Knowing the theme was history he returned to his Fathers manor briefly, and with the help of a rather wary butler he made his way to the wine cellar, and after some ten minutes of arguing he was allowed to leave with the 5th oldest vintage in the cellar, which still seemed to be raiding the poor old fellows blood pressure some. Regardless, gift in hand Myles returned to the tailor, acquired his new garments and returned to the barracks to change. Finishing with a quarter of an hour to spare he made his way towards the Fletchers ostentatious abode, Bottle of Wine held gingerly in his hands. The bottle was decorated with gold leaf and if it was to be believed was decorated in the style of the old clockwork empire, an ancient conquered foe according to many a story book.

Making his way into the part Myles was delighted to see the familiar figure of Brenner ahead of him already greeting their gregarious hosts. With some dismay he watched Brenner gift both the matron and the Heiress, with only one gift in hand he hoped he hadn’t committed a fax pas so early in his visit. Still he had no time to correct it now. Stepping up to the ladies Myles proffered the vintage to the elder of the two. “It’s lovely to see you again lady Fletcher, I hope this wine is to your pallet though I doubt any vintage in the city as aged as well as thee.” Bowing slightly to the woman he hoped his words were not pushing the envelope of what was acceptable, he lacked his brothers way with words. Turning to the younger of the two woman he smiled shyly at a face he hadn’t seen in a long while nervous somewhat about the reaction he might meet. “and you Miss Fletcher, the years have only blessed you as well, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

[Florian]

Florian was not nearly as fashionable as Brenner, nor did he have the same breadth of outfits, but he did have the suit he wore to see the Grand Marshal just the day before and though it was certainly some faux pas in some circle he did not particularly care. He didn't go to the same efforts to tame his hair, either, but after his haircut it was easier to get it to settle nicely. He had invited himself along to the party with the First Minister, and was happy to not be turned down.

Though he had arrived with Brenner, he had spent a few moments outside trying to fix a wayward curl before he followed him inside. His knowledge of how to behave in such events was little to none, but he knew as well as anyone that he needed to talk to people as much as he knew how to stand his ground. He watched the older woman walk away as he headed towards Brenner and the woman. He didn't recognize them, of course, but his instinct in such social situations was to stick to someone he did know and hope they could introduce him to everyone else. It was only when he was closer that he saw Myles, too, had joined the party. Another familiar face was a welcome one. Especially one of the few that had never made him feel unwelcome.

It was also instinct to ignore most people. He knew that, inherently, his presence was unwanted. It was always unwanted by human strangers, though now he had some connections that could make up for it. And the theme — Zaichaer could not discount the non-humans in its history, even if it desperately tried to. If he had any idea how his Glade was going to start, meeting the new Grand Marshal and going to a party was not what he had expected. But it was what he had received, and it was far better than the alternatives.

Florian stood next to Brenner. From her comfort, the gift of flowers she held, and the way the older woman had already started to micromanage the party, Florian gleaned that they were the hosts. The Fletcher family was not one he was familiar with, but that could be said for most of them.

"First Minister, Myles, and you must be Miss Fletcher." He looked at each of them as he addressed them with an incline of the head. "I'm Florian Albrecht." He almost pointed out that they'd never met, but of course they hadn't.

[Ursula Fletcher]

“Mr. Arnnet,” her mother waved over a servant to take the wine, “How very kind of you.”

A bad influence, Ursula remembered, is how her parents had described Myles. Rebellious. Ambitious in the wrong sort of ways. And, Ursula knew, his parents had thought the same of her. They’d both been so unwilling to be tamed, untethered by the same responsibilities that had restricted their older siblings.

Or, that had been the hope.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me,” her mother said, her tone having cooled impressively since Myles’ arrival, “I should attend to a few things. It is, again, an honor First Minister. I hope you and Mr. Arnnet enjoy the salon.”

And - once her mother had moved a safe distance away, Ursula did her best to recover the earlier mood.

“I am so very appreciative that you both are here,” she said, intentionally putting the emphasis on ‘I’ over her mother’s ‘we’. “I can only assume how busy work is, First Minister Dornkirk. And, Mr. Arnnet, it is nice to see you well and recovered.”

Ursula maintained a sense of formality between both men, but she had positioned herself closer - but not inappropriately so, to Brenner. She doubted the Commander would think Mr. Arnnet a suitor, but it was better to clarify these things earlier.

Especially with how cold her mother had been, Ursula thought, embarrassed that her mother still blamed Myles for seemingly everything from her youth. She was more than a little that the Lysanrin appeared after her mother had left. If her mother had troubled controlling herself around Mysle she was nervous about the display she might show at him.

Even if her, apparently, the First Minister's Undersecretary. The rumor was confirmed by her father earlier that morning. It really did seem like all of Zaichaer was changing.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Undersecretary Albrecht," she said, very much ignoring looking at Albrecht's arms. That, too, had spread like wildfire. She was confident enough to not stare, but even so much as a glance at the space where the Lysanrin's arm wasn't would be more than a little rude.

Laughter could be heard across the lawn, her mother guiding a group across the meadow’s path. “Oh - forgive me. First Minister Dornkirk, Undersecretary Albrecht, are you familiar with Mr. Myles Arnnet? Mr. Myles Arnnet is a friend, one that I am sad to say I have not seen in some time.”

[Brenner Dornkirk]

Pleased with the ladies' reception to his gifts, Brenner shook his head.

"That is a happy coincidence, Mrs. Fletcher. I'd no idea." He arched an eyebrow at the mention of 'the Arnnett boy' and turned to glance over his shoulder. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of the strapping soldier who'd served so bravely during the mission that led to Brenner's recent rise. He hadn't seen the man since his return from the trip to Kalzasi, and he'd avoided a lot of social engagements prior to that due to the failing health that had since been resolved. He was glad Myles had never seen him in that state and now he looked much healthier- Enough so that he was able to blush, and he did as he stepped aside to afford Myles a spot before their hostesses.

"It has been too long, Arnnett... You look quite well." It was strange to see him again after all this time and in the present company, but he hadn't the time to wallow in the moment as another of his expedition companions appeared. The First Minister smiled to Florian, but he was nervous about this first foray into a social engagement with the newly minted Undersecretary of Domestic Relations.

"Miss Fletcher, I know that today's theme revolves around Zaichaer's history, so I hope you will not think it inappropriate for me to have brought one who's just made a bit of history all his own. Mr. Albrecht here..." Brenner placed a fraternal hand on the smaller man's shoulder.

"Is the first ever non-human to serve in the role of Undersecretary of Domestic Relations. As the savage war drums of Kalzasi echo to our North, I find it incredibly important that Zaichaer continues the march of progress and acknowledges the needs of our most vulnerable citizens. Mr. Albrecht will be essential to those efforts. We are, after all, One Zaichaer united in resolve." With a punctuating pat to Florian's shoulder, he removed his hand and glanced to Myles offering a playful little wink.

[Anton]

When Anton had announced his intention to attend the Fletcher salon, his parents were pleasantly surprised with him. Their eldest son had secluded himself for the entirety of Frost, begging off all social obligations with the excuse of work and school. Even his excursions with his ne'er-do-well of a bodyguard had been significantly curtailed, the young heir effectively only seen in public when attending the Greater Institute of Zaichaer. In truth, the sudden disappearance and then reappearance of most of Zaichaer's up and coming young men - accompanied as it was by the seemingly permanent absence of the Lysanrin that was all but attached to Eitan Angevin - had made him consider the benefits of laying low.

And then at breakfast, in between grousing about the certainty of war and the aftermath of the recent coup, his father had said the impossible: a Lysanrin referred to as Undersecretary Albrecht had entered the employ of the new First Minister. His mother mentioning that Brenner was to attend the Fletcher 's Glade salon had settled the matter in his mind, and he immediately set to work.

Considering that the theme of the day was Zaichaeri history, Anton did at least not need to purchase a new outfit. He arrived in the costume of a past age, the formal dress expected of those who attended court. Though there had not been a king in generations, his family kept such traditions alive. Following behind him were two porters in formal, though modern, attire, carrying between them an ornate couch.

"I trust I'm not interrupting?" Anton asked as he approached the assembled notables. "Anton Michaelis," he said, introducing himself to their host with a short bow. "In honor of the theme, I took the liberty of bringing you some history of our own," he explained, gesturing to the couch held behind him. It was over two centuries old, but Anton very carefully did not mention that it had been sitting in a storage room for the vast majority of that time and his mother was all too happy to see it gone.

With his formal duties dealt with, Anton let his 'gaze' traverse the others in attendance. "First Minister, Undersecretary, Officer." It was an... odd assortment to say the least. He hadn't actually expected to find Florian so soon, thinking that he would perhaps discuss the Lysanrin with Brenner and move on from there, but there he was, in the flesh. Standing next to the man who had nearly arrested himself and his bodyguard half a year ago, but that was a different matter.

The blind man of course navigated the party with Semblance, Brenner and Myles appearing the same as the last Anton had seen them. Ursula was interesting, an elegant string quartet as to be expected of a woman of her station, its soft refrain joined by a rebellious strain. But Florian's... Florian's was... different. The instruments were deeper, firmer, cellos and bassoons instead of violins and flutes, underlain by a curious sounding horn that seemed to care little for the rest of the song but built it up nonetheless.

"It is good to see all of you again."

[Myles Arnnett]

The matron’s cold reception failed to dampen Myles mood, he never expected to win that particular battle axe over but he enjoyed being nice to her if only to make her seethe. Much like his father she was not one to ever let any perceived slight go, regardless of if they were real or imagined. Still he was here, he’d handed off his gift and she couldn’t ignore that. Assuming he didn’t do anything overtly egregious he imagined she wouldn’t be slipping a stiletto between his ribs this evening.

Shaken from his internal monologue by the presence of another familiar face Myles grinned as the mostly familiar countenance of Florian came into view. Still too thin was his first thought tho he wasn’t surprised. For the finery they wore he could tell much had happened since they’d last seen each other. “Flori- Ahem, Undersecretary Albrecht, Its been too long.” Bowing slightly to the now political figure he felt out of place now being a foot soldier among influential titans. “I like what you’ve done with you’re hair, you look…” He searched for an adjective, it was hard not to think of the fair soldier as pretty or striking at times, not that such an utterance would escape his mouth, no soldier wanted that adjective assigned. There was a new weariness about Florian’s countenance that made them seem as if they’d aged much in a short time. “You look like you’re the one for the job” he settled with hoping he hadn’t broken new etiquette rules. He made a mental note that he’d need to send both Florian and Brenner gifts to congratulate their rise in the ranks.

On that note as he was allowed he looked to Brenner pondering how he was to know address this man in public. Letting the young Fletcher lead he took to her calling him First Minister Dornkirk, a mouthful worthy of his rank no doubt. Watching as she addressed him and subtly stepped to his side Myles grinned. Brenner was no doubt a man of high standards and to see him find a lady that could make his breath catch and cheeks rouge was something his family would be celebrating. Looking to Ursula, Myles had to suppress the image of the girl he’d known for it was dizzying to see the lady she’d grown into knowing they were the same. “Yours was one of the few letters I received while I recovered. Thank you for the concern and kindness, and I beg you forgive me taking so long to deliver this thanks.” Trusting her good humor to allow him such an indulgent statement he hoped she hadn’t taken offence at his inability to write back.

As he was addressed by Brenner his attention was torn back to the expedition commander and now First minister. Bowing to the man he came back up trying to suppress his desire to address him as a friend. “Indeed it has Sir, Congratulations on your well-deserved promotion First Minister. You as well Sir, A countenance like yours is well suited to the public eye, though I do miss that wild look you wore in the face of the deep.” Resolving to ask the man to a drink later Myles stepped back trying not to appear too familiar and making room for the newest addition to the gathering of mostly young blue bloods. Nodding to Anton Myles smiled glancing about for the spitfire of a bodyguard he kept. “Indeed it isn’t often enough there has been good cause for a gathering, it is a rare treasure to behold so many familiar faces in one place.”

[Florian]

Florian felt a sudden surge of discomfort, a realization of too much at once that curdled in his stomach. He attributed it to his conflicting desires about being seen and noticed. It had taken some time for him to realize that what had happened the day before would make him more public than ever, and not just with propaganda but wildfire rumors and talk. He did not need to introduce himself as Undersecretary Albrecht. They already knew. With some restraint he managed to prevent the discomfort from rising to his face, and he bottled it up and shoved it down and away.

"Thank you, Arnnett. I did get a haircut. It's good to see you again." He couldn't help but laugh, just a little bit, at that being what Myles noticed. It seemed rather typical of him, and it also soothed his anxiety some. He didn't say anything in response to his own making of Zaichaer history, he could at least smile like he belonged.

The newest arrival surprised him, if only because he had nearly forgotten that Anton existed. He wasn't not expecting Anton to attend, though he had a marked dislike of the man that was not shared with most of the people in attendance. He had never outwardly expressed his dislike to anyone except him, and that only seemed to make Anton bring him a gift of strawberries the second time they had met. Either way, he wasn't going to bitch to the man in public, but considering their first meeting had stemmed from a party, he wouldn't be entirely surprised if Anton summoned him again after this one.

"Mr. Michaelis." Florian acknowledged him, and not in an unfriendly manner. "You're right, Arnnett. I didn't think I would recognize so many people here."