Party To Treason [Aurin]

[Erratum]

Party To Treason

Frost 28, 123

True to Valentin's warning, Darus of Haqs found the gentry of Dardouen to be self-centered, insecure popinjays with more gall than spine. What Valentin likely did not realize was that this hardly distinguished them from any of the other dozen or so courts of intrigue in which Aurin had occasionally been embroiled.

Indeed, the good people of the province had more cause for their worries than most. The Great Eclipse had ravaged the whole world alike, but each realm had been afflicted differently. The cities of the world had adapted well, bringing phenomenal magic and divine resources to bear to abate the appearance of the shadow beasts and the ill effects of reduced sunlight. But Dardouen was widespread and chiefly agricultural. While the great lords in Gel'Grandal had kept safe behind sunstone lamps and the Kathar legion, the farmers had suffered the brunt of it. And as the fortunes of the farms declined, so too did the wealth of their parasites.

"It's preposterous!" declared one man, whip-thin and dressed in notably worn dark silks, anger overcoming a perpetually nervous demeanor, "They won't even consider a reduction in the excise? Haven't they heard that you get no blood from a stone?"

"Of course not." said a companion, a heavy-set woman with delicate features and an absurd hat featuring a live nesting dove, "Their lordships have not the faintest notion of privation, behind his Majesty's generous shield. D'you foresee the privy council traipsing out in the mud and cold to survey conditions on the ground themselves? No. They see the numbers on paper going down and send yapping dogs to hound us, unwilling to breathe the common air long enough to notice reality."

Aurin had chosen this party carefully. The Allsteads had been what might be termed very upper-middle class, in life. Command of a profitable shipping enterprise had landed Sir Allstead in that most precarious and strange social position, where he had no family connections to the great men of the government, but far more money than many of the decrepit and declining houses which stuffed the lower ranks of the nobility. Some merchants were able to leverage this by marrying into decaying houses and effectively purchasing titles, but the Allsteads had not quite managed that feat. As a result, Tupin's brother could seldom secure an invitation to the balls frequently held by Duke Dardouen.

On the other hand, a fish rejected from a big pond could make itself quite comfortable in a smaller one. Herr Allstead had become a popular fixture at the regular parties held by the Duchy's Chamber of Commerce, where he could command a crowd of folks desperate to establish some link to the perceived power and wealth of his notoriously reclusive sister-in-law. These were semi-formal affairs, meriting a single dour doorman checking coats and turning away the sufficiently unfashionable sorts, but they had a reputation for increasing bawdiness as the nights waned.

But the evening was young when Darus of Haqs arrived for his date, and there was, as yet, no sign of the murderous brother-in-law. Only disgruntled merchants, complaining bitterly about the lack of fellowship from the realm's great lords.

[Aurin]

By now, Darus' misfortunes were well known, but after escaping Dardouen, he had returned.

His attire was carefully worn so as to walk that tightrope of being fine enough to impress but shabby enough that he was accepted as one of their own, as some sort of temporarily inconvenienced millionaire. In any case, he had managed to turn a small profit on his previous misfortune, and had returned to what he called 'my dear Dardouen friends' with news from Gel'Grandal and beyond, with financial deals to share, gossip, snuff, and all sorts of things to make his dear Dardouen friends act the part.

The job was turning out to be more monumental a task than he had anticipated when Valentin first approached him, but he didn't mind playing a long game. In fact, they tended to be the most stimulating, the most rewarding, and his interest in their endeavor hadn't waned a skotch.

If he was a bit of a dandy, well, he also managed to travel in these benighted times without losing his life, so it was assumed he had a little steel in his backbone, a little skill.

"Ah, Valensier," he was saying to someone as he downed his wine. "You would think people in the capital would be the height of sophistication and class, but..." He sighed. "They are merely wealthy. There's a difference, you see. Even their educations... I do believe their tutors weren't allowed to correct them. So many so well-educated and yet so stupid." He laughed. "Why..." And then he launched into an extended, inventive story about someone or another. They might even have been based upon someone real. Certainly, Aurin spent enough time in Gel'Grandal anymore that he had met people and heard of others.

"Oh, don't mind if I do!" He snagged another glass of wine, depositing the empty upon the passing tray. "Hm, I suppose I will have to teach everyone the fox trot..."

If his eyes strayed toward the doors, it was because he, at least, was hoping to see Herr Allstead.

[Erratum]

There were those who said that a watched pot never boils, and perhaps the same was true of watched doors and guests. Despite Aurin's experience in spycraft and careful observation, he missed Mr. Allstead's entry. Either the man had slipped through like a shadow while Aurin blinked, or he was cautious enough to be taking back doors.

(It took some men that way, murder. It was one thing to know on an intellectual level that any man on the street with a rusty shiv could end a great man's career- it was quite another to be the one who had orchestrated the same. There was a certain feeling in those men that all which was gained by the knife could be lost thereby which was seldom present in more honest contemporaries.)

But what Darus' sharp eyes did not miss was the earnest eddy of excitement which surrounded Herr Allstead's arrival. In his life, Sir Tupin had been known as a solid and respectable fellow, cautious to a fault, but seldom willing to share his troubles with another man and ever-suspicious that others were after his purse. Dame Allstead was known as a recluse, entirely disinterested in the cliques of high society and equally disinterested in the social pursuits which other outcasts from high society often played at. She'd taken no gentleman callers in the wake of her husband's death, which had led to much gossip on the topic of secret lovers and so forth.

Sir Tupin's brother, then, had taken all of the couple's usual social duties upon himself. He attended on every party in Valensier and projected charm like a civet cat did stink; it followed him like an odor and settled on everything. Herr Frederick Allstead had a reputation as a natural-born charmer with a sincere interest in the lives of all those around him, ever quick to pledge his support to every cause(and then wiggle out of it later when it turned out he hadn't the funds to meet his brash words).

He was a handsome fellow, dirty blonde with bright green eyes of a hue seldom found so far west on the continent. He wasn't especially tall, just a few inches under six feet, but he had the wry, attractive build of a man with the leisure to spend his time hunting and competing in various gentlemanly sport. The dossier which Valentin had left with Darus claimed that the man was a member in three different private clubs, one almost three hundred kilometers distant from Valsier, an extravagance which neither Sir Tupin nor his wife would have ever countenanced in life.

One of the women whom Darus had been idly speaking with followed his gaze and gasped, bringing her hands together as an idea struck. "That's right, Darus- you're new in town. Well, I simply must introduce you to Fred. He simply loves stories, he'll be ever so pleased to meet you. Fred! Oh, Fred! Over here, please!"

It took the woman a moment to get Frederick Allstead's attention, for he was already in the middle of an animated discussion with two other men, both unremarkable (save for one's absurdly curled mustache). Once he saw her waving, however, Herr Allstead made his apologies to the men and tripped over with a huge, honest smile.

"Gertie, old bag, how excellent it is to see you again. I trust you're keeping well with Philip?" The man's voice was rolling and pleasant, a little deeper than it seemed light it ought to be from such a moderate frame. He seemed all earnest energy and cheer.

"Never mind Philip, Fred. Have you met Herr Darus? He's here ahead of a caravan all the way from Haqs, you know, and it's a jolly wheeze."

"Haqs, is it?" Herr Allstead turned his green eyes on Aurin, giving him a big, blank smile, "Divines, you've come from one backwater to another, haven't you? Stopping in on the way to the capitol, is it?"

[Aurin]

"But I don't want to share you," he complained, having been flirting with Gertrude for several minutes at this point. All the same, she was pulling him toward his desired target for the evening and he let himself be led. If he hadn't known better, he might have wondered whether she had sembled his intentions and reacted to the same. Or perhaps he had nudged her with an intrusive thought. One never knew with confidence men.

While she engaged with the man of the hour, Darus made a show of smoothing his clothes while in fact he was paying attention to the minutiae of his presence and appearance.

Rather than reciprocate with unctuous charm, however, he pulled a face of affront, gasping.

"How very dare you, ser?!" he asked, just loud enough and strident enough that those nearest them might hear, causing a ripple effect of attention. Darus glanced to Gertrude as if offended he should call her a hag, or perhaps, as he glanced back at the man, he was offended at his homeland being called a backwater. But even as attention began to gather, he instantly dropped the ruse and beamed at the man.

"A jest," he assured him. "Although Gertie is lovely enough for the capital, I think, and Haqs is no Zaichaer, nor a Gel'Grandal. Indeed, I have business in both cities, but I do not begrudge the more rural gems my attention." He winked at the woman, as she was as much a gem as the pocketbooks of the populace to his mind.

"But it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. You are, as I understand it, the biggest fish in this little pond." He made a point of being unsure whether to bow or to shake hands, and settled for a continued smile. "Do you also seek the more exciting waters of metropolises?"

[Erratum]

Darus' vehemence plainly took the man aback, blinking and gawping. The nearest guests quieted abruptly; evidently these soirees were not commonly the stages for raised voices and angry spirits. A little bubble of shock spread in that corner of the room before Aurin returned to a jovial tone. The sound of conversation came creeping back, if a bit nervously. Allstead, on the other hand, broke into a relieved smile.

"Well now, you had me wound up there, sir." Frederick leaned against an open armchair, gesturing with the same hand holding his drink, "A bit of Haqs humor, was it? Well done, well done."

Gertrude offered little laugh, acquainted-enough with Darus by now to think she knew his little idiosyncrasies. "Darus is a world traveler, Fred. Been everywhich from Zerapesh to Zythura, the way he tells it. I'm sure he recognized your name at once, from your brother's trains."

"Ah yes." Herr Allstead intoned, solemn "Herr Darus, I fear I must correct you. My late brother was the big fish- I'm nothing but a roustabout and a crook by nature."

"Oh, Fred!" Gertie exclaimed, in exasperation.

"No, no, it's true. Ever since Tupin passed, I've given much thought to what he said of me. But let's not bore our new friend with the past, eh?" Frederick Allstead turned his easy smile back to Darus, "And one of the things my brother always wanted was to move to the capital, to buy a townhouse in Wintergarten and hob with the nobs, as it were. I used to want the same, but if the last year has convinced me of one thing, it's that the capital doesn't care for us, and we're best off without care for them."

"Fred!" whispered Gertie, looking uneasy for the first time.

"Oh, don't worry at it, darling." Fred replied, glib, "All the Kathar are cooped up in the Duke's estate and busy watching him. But enough politics- come, Herr Darus, let's hear one of these stories which has Gertie acting like a schoolgirl again."

[Aurin]

"Call me ill bred," he said, "just so long as you don't stop calling upon me." He smiled, apologetic after a moment. "I am not everyone's cup of tea, sir; occasionally, I am a shot of harder spirits. And in my line of work, leaving an impression is often more important than whether 'tis a good one or not. Zerapesh, aye; Zythura, nay." The last was for Gertrude's benefit.

"Well," he continued after Allstead had said his peace, raising his glass, "a crook and a roustabout are more fun at a party. And... as the Kathar are in their kennel for the night, I will admit that I find some of the Imperial tax code rather onerous compared to other nation-states'. So, perhaps I am a crook and a roustabout myself." Certainly, he had made a cuckold of Gertrude's husband by now, but that wasn't--insofar as he was aware--a crime, but rather an entertaining secret.

Darus wondered if perhaps the Empress were comely and whether cuckolding the Emperor were a crime. Then he wondered whether there even was an Empress at the moment and, if so, whether she were of child-bearing age. He wouldn't kick a silver vixen out of his bed, but he did draw a line at child-brides. Such was one ethical standard this unethical fellow held to.

Per the man's request, Darus told a story. It had elements of truth co-opted from one of his misadventures in Antiris, names changed to protect the innocent and the guilty, and embellished upon for effect. A good story always had some embellishment; call it lying or call it artistic license.

In any case, he did his best to set the man at ease and perhaps give the impression that he could be pulled into nefarious shenanigans. He could, but one just couldn't say so out loud and plainly.

[Erratum]

Taxes were something of a sore point in the Imperium, of course- they were too high, everyone agreed they were too high. Everyone everywhere always agreed that taxes were too high, that's the nature of taxation, but the Imperium was mean about it. It was one of those places where being too vocal about high taxes could lead directly to a visit from the taxman himself, interested in availing himself of access to all of your books until you got the goddamn message.

Given how much Frederick had to hide, it was surely unearned bravado which led him to chuckle at Darus' joke, breezily running the back of his hand across a palm, shaking his head. Perhaps Sir Tupin had engaged with smugglers, but it was doubtful indeed if his wife had continued the practice- and if his brother had started up again while trying to hide her murder, he was stupider than expected.

"Taxes... were more Tupin's bugaboo than mine. But they are fruit of the..." Frederick caught himself, looking almost flustered for a moment, then returned to form. "No, but please, do go on."

The pleasant young Allstead noded along as Darus regaled the two with some misadventure, making appropriate noises of appreciation and concern. Aurin noticed that while the man's demeanor was shallow on the surface, he possessed the uncanny ability to engage himself with the speaker, communicating loudly through body language that he was invested in the speaker's words and opinion. The intensity of Frederick's gaze was unnerving- it was the sort of look one associated more with men of violence than a society man.

(But then, if Valentin was to be believed, this man was a murderer. Some hidden depths were almost to be expected.)

"Wasn't that wonderful?" Gertrude asked, patting Darus' arm, "He's had so many adventures out beyond the border, haven't you, Darus?"

"Stand-out." agreed Frederick, enthusiastically, "First-class, really. You know, you may be the first real merchant we've had all season. What with the beasts on the roads, only the trains and skylines have had the space to trade, and the folks who ply those tend to be only dour, grumpy laborers. Well, I do hope this means that we can expect some of the caravans again."

"I had in an order last year." Gertie interjected, voice wistful, "From Zaichaer, you know. Dreadful business that, never got my deposit back."

"City blows up and you're fixed on the deposit? Divines, Gertie, that's a bit hard-hearted, surely."

"Oh don't take it that way, Fred." the woman said, scornful, "But it's still true. And with the lean winter, it'll be missed."

"Ah, yes." Unless Aurin was mishearing, there was... a faint echo of satisfaction in the man's voice? "Quite so. Legume markets aren't doing well, are they? Not that I expect you've had much of a harvest to speak of."

"Well you don't have to be smug about it, Freddie. Just because your brother's fortunes didn't rise or fall on the harvest... and then when we're practically scraping by on beansprouts, begging the Council for aid, do they send it? No, just some horrid little man poking and prodding around the local books."

Frederick Allstead shook his head in sympathy. "Can't spare the Kathar or the moonstones, but they can send an auditor, eh? Yes, I fancy His Majesty's inner court hasn't done much looking outward for a few months, and that's the truth. Tell me, Darus, is it as bad everywhere else as it is around here?"

[Aurin]

Darus certainly recognized something in Allstead--perhaps a kindred spirit. From time to time, the man might have caught a calculating glance from the ginger-headed man, but it was less predatory than considering, as if wondering whether they could get into some crookery together. It was a sort of flirtation, though perhaps not the sort of flirtation he had with Gertrude.

He beamed, preening like any fop at the admiration.

"Ahhhh, alas," he said, commiserating with Gertrude. "I have also made some investment in Zaichaer. They were certainly unready for the Eclipse on the heels of there other troubles. I had thought the Emperor would move in, annex in order to help, but I suppose the Imperium needed to see it to its own borders. Do let me know what you've lost and I can make inquiries the next time I pass through." He patted her hand with his.

"Varying degrees of terrible, varying degrees." He nodded. "To the point where the Order of Reconciliation began recruiting witches if you could believe it! Strange bedfellows, strange indeed. But their Kindred druid witches... well, they know how to make things grow, and so they haven't starved, though this unending winter continues. Do you know, they say there is a new god of winter? This is not how I would go about enticing followers were I a suddenly deified Darus." He laughed at his own sally. "Or perhaps next year we will have dreadful doomsday winter cultist types to deal with too... oof..." That needed a good strong pull from his drink.

"But much seems to rely upon the availability of moon- and dawnstones, and the government's willingness to move resources to protect and succor their people. I have tried to do my share of good while also turning a profit. Not profiteering, but nobody else is going to look after poor Darus but Darus himself."

[Erratum]

"Witches?" Gertrude exclaimed, tightening her grip on Aurin's arm, "Oh, how perfectly dreadful!"

Frederick shook his head, expression wry, "Who would have thought? After all those years harping on New Atheism, they turn hypocrite the moment the going gets rough. Still, better to swallow your pride than have nothing to swallow, if you catch my drift."

"Yes, but witches, Freddie. Surely you recall oma's tales of the covens, how they would take the toes from children..."

"Gertie, please." the man responds, dripping with condescension, "I seriously doubt oma's tales hold much water. Tupin often went to Zaichaer, you'll recall, and he always said they were little more than gangs with airs. You can't imagine there are actually lebkuchen houses in the forests, or an underground kingdom of ghosts. Just imagine the problems that would cause for sewer maintenance."

Frederick's head dipped a little, a little flaunt meant to emphasize the joke, though Gertrude still seemed more than a bit put out by his attitude. He sighed at her pout, running a hand through his dark curls and adopting a rueful smile.

"I'd heard whispers of the winter thing, though. They're not keen to see the word get out in the capitol. Well, the last of those gods to show up was the pigeon prince, so no doubt His Holiness is going to want a full inquisition before he thinks about adding anyone new to the Imperial Divines." He paused at that, giving Darus a sudden look.

To a casual observer, it was just a glance- but for just a moment, the mask seemed to fall. Frederick gave Aurin a cold once-over, hard eyes roving across the other man for signs of some unknown something. It was the kind of look that Aurin was all too familiar with, and probably much more familiar than the other man, who could not have guessed just how far out of his depth he was as a schemer.

"Not that I'd bring up business at a party..." Fred ventured slowly, as though these parties had any real purpose other than surreptitious business, "But my dear sister has vouched to me her intention to make some inroads in those eastern markets. It's what my late brother would have wanted, he was never content to rest upon his laurels. Perhaps the two of us could talk more about the state of things later?"

"Oh no you don't, Freddie, you're not stealing this one to go blabber about your little plot."

Frederick scowled, his expression unexpectedly earnest. "I'm not plotting, Gertie. It's policy, and I'd have thought you would take more of an interest in the local affairs, given your husband's business."

Gertie sniffed, her mood soured.

[Aurin]

Darus laughed genuinely at Frederick's joke. He would have to repackage it for the witches themselves; some of them had senses of humor. Well, they all had sense of humor; it trended toward gallows humor, which made sense given that the rift and the eclipse were just the latest trials and tribulations for them. He wondered idly where Imogen had gotten herself off to and, of course, what she was likely to look like naked because hew as a terrible person.

"How are they spinning the apotheosis of an Avialae?" he asked. He knew, of course, but was curious how far the propaganda machine actually reached, how degraded the signal became farther away from the capital and even lesser capitals within the Imperium. "Had him on a collar for a moment, I think, and then traded him to the divine Solunarian seraglio or so I heard?"

But when Frederick gave him The Look™, all other questions became lower priority.

"Well, we needn't spoil Gertie's night," Darus ventured, "but at some point, either later tonight or at a later date, we could share a drink, a smoke, and a business venture. Or policy. I haven't the slightest political power here, but I do have some idea how policy dictates pecuniary interests."

His smile was, of course, avaricious, but he was honest about that. He liked travel, adventure, and making money; that was to be lauded in a merchant.

"And Gertie... I'm going to have to teach you how to listen to boring local news to glean the bits and bobs that might prove salaciously entertaining or at least profitable." He winked.

"What say you, Master Frederick?"