presents...
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First Day on the Job
It was a suite fit for a viscount. There were two rooms for entertaining, two for his own use, and three for the train of servants and attendants he didn't have. One of Mondavi's surgeons had set up camp over there, along with his assistants. Everything seemed to be healing well, but he wanted to keep an eye on his patient. Things could go wrong, and he wouldn't want to be responsible for not catching it in time.
One of the things that could go wrong was in the sickroom at the moment. The surgeon did not approve of the woman's presence. His patient required rest and quiet, not conversation and card games. And certainly not any... physical exertion. He sat himself down on a chair in the salon, cracking open a copy of the newest textbook from Dionna, alert to the signs of any potentially dangerous activity behind the sickroom door.
The sickroom itself was bright and airy. In northern climes, like Avalon or Eisen, damp and chilly weather could be the death of an invalid, so sickrooms were often kept shuttered, close and dark. But the salutary effects of the sea air were well-known to all of Theah, so on the islands, windows were left open so that the salt breeze could circulate. That let the sun in as well and, since the room was decorated in a white-and-gold scheme, lit the entire quarters with its warm light.
The countess sat on the edge of the large featherbed in which Salvador reposed. She ran a finger along the top edge of one of his bandages. "He just said no exertion," she whispered. "So you'll just have to be very still. Do you think you can manage to not move at all? If not..." She looked away, to the head and then the foot of the bed. "I'm sure there's a way to make certain that you don't..."
The sickroom door opened.
Twenty years in the Montaigne court made Odessa's face an interesting thing to watch. Angry irritation at the interruption, when the doorknob clicked. Then it smoothed out again when she realized that there hadn't been a knock - only someone like the palace's owner would enter rooms without knocking first. Or - and then the frown returned - the pushy little doctor. But when the first glimpse of the hand pushing the door open showed itself to be clad in a sleeve worth half the doctor's yearly wage, she made herself pleasant again and rose up from the side of the bed, to curtsey when Prince Alcide, followed by his son the marchese, entered the room.
The prince held a hand up in Salvador's general direction. "Please, do not get up." He looked toward the countess. "I see your Montaigne friend has arrived."
She curtseyed again. "Countess Odessa Blanchard du Rachetisse, your Highness. I'm honored."
"Mm." The prince acknowledged that with a slight nod and had half-turned away before checking himself. "Have we met previously? Your name seems familiar to me."
"No, your Highness; I should have remembered meeting you." She smiled, but Mondavi wasn't looking. The elder Mondavi, anway; Gallisus was very obviously looking. "Do you follow the follies of le Chateau?"
"No." The word fell like a lead weight. The countess shrugged, feigning bemusement. "Then I can't possibly imagine where you might have heard of me."
"Mm. Well. Please excuse us. I need to speak with my viscount."
"Of course, your Highness." She gave another curtsey toward Mondavi and Gallisus, half-turned to Salvador to make another, and then glided out the door.
Gallisus watched her go.
Mondavi was already on to business. "Viscount Salvador, I believe you already know my son. Marchese Gallisus is, of course, my representative on the mainland." On cue, Gallisus smoothly returned his attention to the matters at hand and gave a small bow. "As my eyes, ears, and hands in Monfalcone, you will report to him in Profeta Chiesa anything of interest. The distance between the cities is not far; I will expect reports weekly, and more frequently if the need arises. When the governor is here, apprising me of events on the mainland, continue to send in your reports. They will be read."
Mondavi paused and looked between his son and Salvador. "I expect the marchese will be especially critical of your reports. It will be in your best interest to give him little to criticize. Which is to say: full accounts of political and religious currents in the city; the degree of compliance or noncompliance with any of my edicts; unusual or troubling events; any news of spies or agitators - but without a useless and exhaustive accounting of every unsubstantiated piece of gossip circulating in Monfalcone." The prince spoke in a tone that was so level and even that it was practically a drone.
He paced from the foot of the bed towards the head; Gallisus remained where he was. Mondavi paused to examine some of the gilded woodworking on the white-painted headboard. "So I have sent some edicts north which I presume will be unpopular: I require my lords to make certain sales of rice, and not to make other sales. Deals will have to be renegoiated, or lost. They will resist, or attempt to work around, or smuggle. You will detect these efforts and remind the lords of my will. You will have armed men to remind them more forcefully, if need be. We will have a large surplus of unsold rice this year. It will appear wasteful and irrational. You may tell them I fear famine; Principessa Mea has made certain oracles to that effect."
"Now," the prince droned on, but there was the slightest touch of humor in it, "you may be aware that I am to visit Monfalcone in the near future, to discuss certain matters with Don Antonio Donati. First, pursuiant to certain tests, we will be negotiating a marriage between Donna Pietra Donati and Barone Oreste. Father Donati tells me she is Donna Angela's daughter; I believe it. I would know her paternity. Don Antonio was her chaperone at the time, according to the reports I received; he may have some knowledge of it."
The prince paused again, apparently fascinated by a tassel hanging from a bolster. "When that marriage is arranged and the two betrothed, I will see that Donna Anna Donati is free to make the Donati a match with a house besides Mondavi."
"But secondly, and more importantly, there is the matter of this letter." He handed over Antonio's letter for Salvador to read, or re-read. "Don Antonio, if I read him correctly, seems to believe that I have invited these Eisen into my lands with some plan or purpose. Would you know why he believes this thing?"
Salvador did his best to sit up and address the Prince properly. It was obvious that it was an effort, but that he was trying to conceal how much it hurt.
"My Prince, I look forward to your visit in Monfalcone. I am sure that you will find Don Giorgio, Count Enrico, and Don Antonio most happy to see you. I believe that you have indeed read Don Antonio's letter correctly. He does not confide everything in me, but in looking upon where the Eisen are stationed and investigating, has come to the conclusions that he has with regard to their purpose." He tried to hold himself up, but slumped a little after the speech. He hoped the Prince won't notice or comment.
"Stationed? Hm. Perhaps, having an opinion, he found
evidence to support it... I shall be interested to see
the results of his investigation." If Mondavi had
noticed anything at all, it didn't show. "So,
thinking that I am about to engage in military
maneuvers, he hopes to gain favor by offering this...
extraordinary support." Mondavi's glance shifted to
the general vicinity of Salvador's shoulder, the
closest he'd come to looking him in the face. "He
does not confide in you, you have said. Can you...
speculate? Speculate, then, on this offer to cripple
the entire Caligari family? I intend no offense to
Don Antonio, but it seems... unlikely."
"I could speculate, but it would be precisely that - speculation," Salvador replied. "I do know that he believes that he can perform this service for you and that I believe that he is capable of it as well. I have seen the planning that Don Antonio has put into this offer and believe that he has looked at many possibilities and prepared for them. I would not want to lead my prince astray with wild speculation as to the exact methods that would be used."
"Hm. And the choice of target - ambitious. All
that... Syrneth technology. Legion only knows what it
does." The prince sighed deeply. "Well... oh. Yes,
there was another thing. Elena Loche." It was a
Vodacce approximation of Ellen Locke's name. "What
have you heard in regards to her?"
Salvador hesitated - caught off-guard by the change of subject. "Ellen? What about her? She is a very nice and proper lady that Father Donati is engaged to or going to be engaged to. I am not one hundred percent sure where the negotiations are since we went on this trip. She seems very bright and capable. What is your interest in her? What would you like to know?"
Gallisus raised an eyebrow. "You're on a first-name
basis with your... with the priest's fiance?"
"How excellent," his father murmured. "Perhaps he
knows her well. I speculate on methods, viscount.
While one should not... weigh them heavily, I find it
expedient to consider as many possibilities as present
themselves. Fewer surprises that way," he added,
almost self-consciously. "I understand that she
studies chemistry. Do you know - " He broke off,
snapping his fingers. "That's where I heard it," he
said, gazing at the door. "Marchese, inform the
Countess Blanchard I require her presence this
afternoon." Gallisus gave a brief bow, turned sharply
and left.
The prince smiled vaguely. "Please excuse the
interruption - the mind works in strange ways. Do you
know what fields in particular she studies?" He
looked up at the bed's canopy, even lifting a hand to
feel the fabric. "I find the etymology of her family
name of little interest. What she does now is of interest."
"I am not sure what fields Lady Ellen studies specifically. I have overheard some converstations about chemistry and Tigraine has discussed alchemy with her I believe. I do not think that the Lady was very impressed by the topic though. I have found her to be a very well rounded individual in her studies. If you would like me to ask Father Donati more about her, I will find out what I can."
"Mm... no. I will meet her soon enough. Unimpressed
with alchemy... he failed to mention that." The ghost
of a smile flittered across his face again. "I will
be interested to know also what causes Countess Odessa
to keep a blooded token in Monfalcone. I understand
there is something of a family relation, but I was
under the impression it was somewhat distant. I may
be mistaken. Or perhaps the cause is... somewhat more
elemental in which case... your private life is of
course your own, except where it may involve matters
of state. Foreign noblewomen may signify matters of
state. I trust you have sufficient discretion to
understand when?"
"Of course my lord. A Vodacce noble must be discrete and any representative of the prince moreso. There may be more to it, but Lady Gabrielle's presence could explain some of the reason for the token."
"It could," the prince agreed, emphasizing the word just slightly. He fell silent for a long moment, his eyes moving slowly across the room. "I believe... that is all for the moment," he said at length. "Theus grant you a quick recovery." With a nod in Salvador's general direction, the prince ambled toward the door.
Back to Game 19 log.
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