* * *
Iaen
* * *
Well, I guess I can talk a little about myself. Not like it can do you any good in IDing me - if ever I want to sneak up behind you, you won't sense me coming, and you'll never recognize me.
Think about that, and smile!
I'm still managing my hair as I approach the fair Princess. There's quite a bit to manage. Already I'm trying to wrap my (now more aristocratically-shaped) head around how to style this terrifying mass. Already my neck is feeling the strain. How I suffer for my duty!
Hey, she's cuter up close.
She looks up at me, eyes narrowing. "I see." Her eyes cast about the room. "That's what all of you wanted to come here for. Well." She heaves a pained sigh. I'd say it was her feelings, but it feels more like she's too good for me and I'm not worth her time. Ahh, royalty. "How long do you plan to pose as him?"
"I'm afraid that's confidential." I give a shrug. Hey. S'how it goes in this business. Like any of us can guess how long this stint has to last.
"At least you lot are making an effort to keep the citizenry at ease." Her shoulders slump. I can see the strain of the situation making its mark in her face, and I also see how she tries to school her expression to hide that. Very important, knowing her looks and mannerisms. Possibly more important than knowing her Father's, if things go badly here. "...You're really going to pose as him?" Her voice lilts up with this question. Her curiosity's piqued, and she walks around me in a slow circle, studying the changes. "It's impressive what you're doing with the clothes." She shakes his head. "No, no, that's still all wrong. His sash is knotted in this manner. It's a mark of rank in Lyiannethe." She reties one of the intricate knots that are weaving their way about my person. She brushes up against me as she does so, and I feel the sweet softness to the curves on her. I think I'm in love.
She gives me a rude look, eyes narrow. "If you are trying to imitate my Father, that would not be the expression he would wear around me." Oh. Whoops. Been awhile since I've been around the public. I grin and brush off the awkward moment.
"Well then, your highness, if you would be so kind as to give me a few acting tips?" I step back to get a look at her, noting a few sketches and studies of the King that show more of his movements and facial quirks than bland portraits typically do.
The Princess draws herself up, shoulders held straight, back impeccable. "He never slouches. Never. If he ever makes an error...well, darling, you must understand. The Peacock King never mis-steps. You must have made an error in your observations, or perhaps your vision is lacking?" As she talks in a tone more disdainful and royal than her own natural one, she also turns, extending her arms, posing as I'm certain her Father must.
I follow the poses and imitate them, adjusting my posture, reminding my body of how it's supposed to behave under this mask. As I do so, I school my face into a better resemblance to the King. I've plenty of material to study from. I take special care to remember Rocsui's resemblance to him, and study her face just for its curves and shadows, for how the muscles stretch and play over her cheekbones. "Ah. I see." I look over my shoulder at her. "What does he call you, in public?"
Her eyebrows lift as she pauses. There's just that hint of sweat on her brow, that hesitation in her breath. The rise in her chest. Is that what she looks like when she doesn't want to talk about something, but must pretend that isn't the case? "Daughter. Rocsui-ehellenae, in formality. If there is an occasion upon which you must use my Xaillyndesse title..." she glances to the side nervously. "Well, it shouldn't arise. Don't worry about it."
I square my shoulders a little more, deepening my voice. He has the neck for it. Let's see if I can get the proper pitch? "Allow me, if I may, to present my prized daughter, Jhe Rocsui-ehellenae, the jewel of my Court."
She jumps. "How did you know how to do that?"
I grin, letting a little remnant of my own face slip through at the corner of my mouth. "Study, precision, and impeccable training." I extend my hand with all the due grace I can bestow upon such long fingers and fine bones. "Please, if you would."
Her fingers hover above my palm for two seconds before she yanks her hand back. There's a timid pinch to the way she holds her shoulders now. "I would prefer not, were it all the same, milord."
I cock my head, the movement birdlike. "Why ever do you say that?"
"Can you stop? It's...really creepy. Look, you're his image, alright? You sound just like him, however you managed that. You've got his manner down pat. So...you don't need to practice anymore." She turns away from me. I get a chance to study the curve of her ass under that little plumed tail of hers. Rowrrr.
"That's no way for a daughter of mine to address her sire." My voice is cold enough that the air almost fogs. She stops, looks back at me with horror, those eyes full of dread as she studies my face, my body. Her Father's face and body. It takes her a long time to allay her fears, and even then, it looks like she'll have trouble sleeping tonight. Daddy wasn't the nicest paternal figure, I take it?
Finally her mouth curls down into an ugly scowl. "Don't you dare ever speak to me again with that tone or I will have you removed from this existence through whatever means I may find necessary." The scolding is a bit more of a novelty than anything else - her tone lacks emotion, and it sounds more like she's reading from a book than speaking in anger. I wonder why that is?
I beam. "I'm so honored you found me convincing, Jhe Rocsui. Shall we get in a little more practice later tonight?"
She slaps me across the face. Little bitch. I hate correcting imaginary makeup.
Hmm. I wonder if she does that in bed.
* * *
Camden
* * *
I let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. Things were so much simpler when I could just shoot the incompetents in the foot so that the battlefield could be relatively clear of stupidity. I can't do that anymore. Well, at least not here. Possibly in a place where the Judge wouldn't get immediate wind of it.
...In any case, there are a lot of idiots about, but unfortunately they happen to be at least halfway useful, and double-unfortunately one of those idiots is Iaen.
Triple-unfortunately, I'll need another idiot to counter Iaen's twice-damned idiocy.
"Jhe Jaxhelshon. Collect your quarry." He looks at me with eyes that are slightly dumber than a cow's. "...The Princess. Ye've seen fit to have her companionship. Now keep it if you value her, and all of our, protection."
His shoulders slump. "But Camden, I don't think she likes me." He has a piteous face, better for panhandling than for reporting to a higher officer with. How did he end up here, again?
I'm admittedly lost for words.
He looks off to the side, sheepish. "I mean, she keeps ignoring what I say, and she doesn't pay much attention to me..." He stops when I lay a hand on his shoulder. He looks up at me, unsure of just what I might be about to impart to him.
I lean down, so that only he (and whoever of our shadows are lingering about and listening in to what's not their business) can hear me, and intone: "Whatever you care for her, boy, you make that enough and don't let yourself give one shit as to whether she cares for you. I can tell ye right now that she don't, and I can also tell ye that if ye feck this up, I will flay every inch of skin off yer ass and send it back home to yer Da'. You can tell that to your sensitivity when you start mincing over every tiny thing instead of doing what fucking duty you can do for Jhe 'hAkribastes and your fellow Armed."
He swallows. I think his colon plunked right down into his bootheels, but he doesn't talk back or glare at me or even cry. He just clenches his fists, and most surprising of all, he thanks me in a low tone.
Then he turns around and does his duty.
* * *
Jax
* * *
Okay. I can totally do this. It involves keeping my ass, and whether Rocsui breaks my heart...
...Well, I'm a man, I can take it!
I don't know what I'm even so worried about. Everything's fine. It's just all a bit much for her and she's really being thrown off by it. She likes me. She said so, or I mean, said as much in her bedroom. In...scream-language.
Probably not the best time to think about that, though.
I catch her outside the door, where there's generally much less of a crowd, which helps. "Rocsui? Hey, are you okay? Maybe we should go somewhere-"
"I'm fine and I don't need any of you. I wish you would get out of my Palace."
Okay. Choke it down, Jaxhelshon. You can take this. It's just a fierce kick to your heart and soul's vital organs. Also, possibly the testicles. "Alright, but I'm worried for you. I want to help you, Rocsui. You asked me to be your Poet."
She stands still, posture straight, chest barely moving as she breathes. Almost a statue to match the one of her Father. She seems to be collecting her thoughts. After a few moments of this and a nod to herself, as if coming to a conclusion, she speaks. "I did. I could use some time alone. Forgive me but I am entirely unused to being surrounded by so many persons with whom I am unacquainted. My Father deemed it inappropriate. So, while you may have use of me, and I may have need of you lot in the near future, I am afraid I must retire." She waits for recognition to hit my eyes, then curtsies in a sweeping, fancy motion. "A good evening to you." She walks away.
I follow her, something which does not slip past her notice.
"What do you want?" By her tone of voice, she could be asking for the time of day.
"Please don't go off alone. It's unsafe for you here."
She closes her eyes, attempting to hide a wince. "...Yes. Then you could do your duties and post a guard on my suite, as I am already well-accustomed to." Summoning a few Armed for the task isn't difficult at all. For some reason, Rocsui seems to get their attention quite easily.
She catches my arm. I look down at her.
"Stay with me." She begins to walk again. I keep pace, not shaking away from her grasp. This close, she's so warm, but I can barely pick up a hint of her scent. It's as if even that has withdrawn, shielding from the world around her.
"Alright." This is strange. It's more like duty than...you know, romance.
She asks me to accompany her into her chambers when we arrive. What we do in there...well, I can't quite call that duty, but it's what she treats it like. Maybe my heart won't take this so badly. Watching her eyes...
They're so cold and empty, like the windows of an abandoned house. If there's any emotion in them, it's the far-off wish for escape, and I'm pretty sure I'm one of the things she'd be escaping. Which confuses me, because she's the one who keeps pulling me into her bedroom. But I just can't figure out girls.
I'm pretty sure I get Camden more than I get girls.
* * *
Camden
* * *
Iaen is, of course, a willing candidate when it comes to playing dress-up and acting like the fountain of egotism that we've evicted from this Palace. This task was made for the boy. In fact, it'll probably turn out to be his favorite role, and we'll never hear the end of it.
But if we're going to have a pretender convince the populace here that all is well and Radia is not, in fact, taking over their dear Kingdom, Iaen will need an entourage.
This is where the situation gets a wee bit difficult. I do not have any volunteers.
It takes some searching and some very pointed orders, but eventually I round up a group of five individuals to make up a bit of a Court for Iaen. Thankfully, the Jhe o'Sul did not bother very much with individuality in his courtiers. Jhe 'Lotus' was perhaps singular in that...but then, considering the King planned for Lotus to take his fall for him, picking someone that stuck out and seemed very foreign was a tactic that aligned with his own interests. There are plenty of spare servant robes about, and heavy makeup is rather in the vogue in this Kingdom, given its principle monarch's habit of caking it on himself in massive volumes.
There we are, then. We might have a shot in Hell of this working, if Iaen does his job right and no one slips. With the Princess's aid, success seems almost likely.
I wish I could see it through. I won't be overseeing that duty, however. I have something else to see to.
I am not looking forward to it.
* * *
"Jhe Cade. It is a long-awaited pleasure, seeing you here in our custody." I may have lied about not looking forward to this, considering my grin. Perhaps 'pleasure' isn't the best word for my expression, however. There's much more malice bred into my expression than any other one thing.
The lout stares up at me from the binds and chains and ties and small magic fetishes and seals and whatever else could be mustered up to hold him in one place. Underneath all that are the manacles and collar that Geillg'a and I forged to hold him. All of that together keeps him in one spot, here, causing no harm to us. Finally, after years of pursuit and near-misses. He's a slippery one. It's difficult enough to describe his face - the lack of a proper nose is at least some aid. Amusing that the lack of a feature defines him more than the features that are still present on his face.
But that's what he's managed, somehow, through his allegiance with Nul. We're not sure how he managed to not get destroyed through it, but somehow he and the Jherent Nul have contrived for Cade Fayegeaux an identity that doesn't identify, a face and mannerisms and voice and name that all manage to slip from memory or even description.
It's been troublesome to deal with. That's a simple way of putting it.
He spits at me in response. It doesn't land, of course. His aim is utter shit. But he still grins that he even managed to do it at all. It's like a toddler taking pride in pissing in the toilet while entirely missing the bowl. "Having a lovely day in Audiva Rocale, are we, Peacekeeper Briarseal?" Calm words, but he can't keep the fear out of his face - what face there is on him.
"Just lovely. A shame you can't be outside to experience the beautiful weather. It's been a fine day for cloud-watching."
"Ah. You'd know, I'm sure - it's all you've done since you came to this dratted empire." He sneers. "Amazing you managed to get him off his throne at all. Or is he merely off on holiday?"
I smile. "Holiday, is it? That sounds splendid. Would you like to accompany him, then? Radia's weather is fine as well - and I find the mountains more scenic."
He clams up.
"You have a few choices, Cade, which is astoundingly more than the Jherent Nul gives you in your life, I am sure. You can divulge the information you know, and that just might be taken into account when you're Tried in Radia. You can stay silent, and see what that gets you when you are, as I said, Tried in Radia." I step forward, boot clomping against the tile floor. "Or you can give me shit. Then you'll go on Trial in Radia. If you're lucky."
He chuckles, not showing a bit of fear. "And just what would be worse than looking at the Judge's ugly face and breathing steel through three nostrils?"
I grin. I draw Geillg'a. "Facing me."
* * *
Cade
* * *
I spit three teeth out onto the floor, and they trail the loveliest little arcs of blood behind them. Like fractals, or sigils, or--
A black boot prods my cheek like a chaperon walking in on a fresh date. "None of that, now."
Oh, Camden, honey. You're such a party crasher. I could have had fun with that.
Scrawling my own escape out with my own blood and spit, using my teeth as the quill-nib? That's much more fun than cribbing Elric's little notes home. "What do 'oo wan', nao?" Yes, that's the voice I talk to the ladies with. Or the gents.
"I see you've regained your Dirybvik accent, then." He's so catty. Aww, did I upset poor wittle Camden by picking on his brother? Maybe he wants another letter. I could oblige, given a few spare hours to spew out an average correspondence from the little Poet. But it seems my hands are tied, here. "Ye've still tongue enough to tell what ye know, though. And ye'll tell, before we turn you over to Radia." He prods me with his boot again. Shame he's such a tease. He's already worked me over with a whip and everything.
"Why woul' I do tha', hen?" I'm known most for my eloquence, of course. After my fabulous dancing skills.
"I'll see that Nul receives your diary."
There's this thing I do, when I get really panicked. I freeze up somewhere in my mind, right in the back of it. And behind that, it's like there's this rabbit in a cage, thumping against the mesh, because it's damn sure it's going to be soup tonight. A whole warren of rabbits, in fact, all worked up in a frenzy, and it's enough to make me a little dizzy. I don't register it physically, of course, which is why you'd never know unless I told you. But there you are. I twitch my eyebrows.
I'm still mulling that one over. I can't let Nul see that thing. Truth be told, I don't even know what's in it. I don't read back on the early stuff. I just write it all as it happens, as you do, and by now it's...well, I suppose it has everything in it. I know Nul wouldn't approve of it. I couldn't give you an exact reason for that, but the way I know is because I feel the need to hide it.
I know it because the rabbits go thump in my head when the Peacekeeper levels his threat.
Well. That does put me in a bit of a pinch, doesn't it? Well, there's not much deliberation.
"I shuppose we coul' haf a tawk."
It's my ass or Nul's. I consider mine the better ass. You would too.
* * *
Camden
* * *
I'll have to admit that I wasn't quite sure that would work. In fact, I wasn't expecting it to. I was entirely bluffing. I keep the appearances up, of course, but now I'm wondering just why he didn't even think twice about giving in.
I'll have to watch him. He's up to something, I'm sure of it. I also keep an eye on his vitals, because he could just try to die on the spot, especially if that's what his master wants.
The master he's possibly outright disobeying right now.
He looks up at me, a noseless man with a sly broken grin on his face. "Y'dunno why ah wanna 'ell ya, do'ya? Foine enough." I suppose that filthy Dirybvik accent of his just comes forward once he's been beaten hard enough. Or maybe it's just his mouth that's messed up. With that accent, who can tell? "Ye dun need tah know."
"Dooley? I wonder if we could get someone in here, make him slightly more comprehensible."
"...Aye, that'd be a struggle, but I'm sure someone's up to a challenge." He's off to find a healer, or possibly a cobbler. Either will do. ...Given, it takes a bit of time to find anyone that's willing to go anywhere near Cade's mouth, but he manages.
Cade peers up at us, his eyebrows slightly misaligned due to some facial reappropriation that Geillg'a engineered, but otherwise not much the worse for wear. He's still down a nose, but at least it looks less like bacon. Also, I think it likely that his mouth will work the way it's meant to now.
"Aye, so you were saying, then?"
He narrows his eyes, but a grin peeks up into his cheeks. "If you don't send on my diary, I suppose we can do business. What are the terms of my release?"
I smirk, crossing my arms. "There are none."
He looks blank for a few moments. He might be thinking that over. "...Then just what am I bartering for, Peacekeeper Briarseal?"
I smile brightly. "The Judge's good favor, and the likelihood of the diary staying safe in his possession." His face darkens as he considers those terms, and then he shakes his head, half-grinning again.
"Still good enough to squeal about. What do you want to know?" Is that a tinge of nervousness I hear?
I wonder why he seems so pressed about it. Logically, the Nul can't do anything to Cade once he's in custody, so the diary shouldn't be much leverage at all. It's too strange for me not to want to puzzle it out, but...well, I have other important questions, and I can tell if he lies. Both are good enough for me to press on with this. "You've trafficked kidnapped Poets and Armed. What are their whereabouts?"
"Unmappable." The reply is flat. It sounds memorized. His eyes are dull as he says it. Then they flick up, and his stare looks like more of something that's coming from a living man. "Nul, of course. Although, a specific area of Nul. I'll not tell you more until I'm in custody." His look is wary now, and he hunches his shoulders in paranoia. Can't say I blame him.
"I suppose that's possible. I'll file the paperwork." He curses. "Ah, no worries, Jhe Fayegeaux. I'll be seeing to your hospitality personally." He curses again. I grin. "More questions, then? Or will you not be able to answer them at all? A shame. What's the point of keeping this journal to ourselves, then?"
He curses once more, spitting as he does so. "You fool, I can't just blaspheme him, trick him, backstab him with no protections put up! Make good on what you promised if you want to bargain. Asking me to spill in an unsecure place such as this is the same as sending him the bloody diary."
I cock my head. "Oh? And just why is it that you don't want it sent on, Jhe Fayegeaux?"
He narrows his eyes. "Because I don't. Now are we through?" He holds his breath. Geillg'a's blade is hovering just under his chin.
"I need a direction to search for Elric Briarseal in, regardless of your peril." His eyes stay narrowed, and I can feel the tingle of the attempt at a curse. It misses, but of course we all expected that. He's too bound for that foolishness to work.
"Look towards Lyiannethe, a fat lot of good getting anywhere near the King's family will do you. It's difficult enough for me. You'll never get a bloody Armed in."
I tap him under the chin with my blade. "That, Jhe Fayegeaux, is my problem. Now ready yourself for a trip. Pack your bags, and such. You'll see Radia's blue skies tomorrow. Call it a homecoming."
He snorts.
"The Judge has missed seeing your charmed face, after all."
* * *
Cade is secure for the coming night. Well, I imagine he's feeling very insecure for the night, but that's his fault, not ours. In any case, while I may be satisfied with progress in that area of operations, the entire Palace is a different matter. Iaen is progressing very nicely with assembling his entourage, and there's no particularly ill news from the shadows that are cleaning out the labs and other cells.
I'd be a fool to think everything is going smoothly, but thus far...well, it may be.
Maybe we can handle this.
* * *