12-27-2014, 01:35 AM
It wasn't entirely by choice that she came to the country: there was no place that she could openly remain after the libel that the Marquess Laus spewed about her. Since Laus is one of the most influential of the Lycian marches alongside Ostia and Pherae, falling into Laus' disfavor would be disastrous for many marches. Cecily didn't want to risk allowing any Lycian noble get an opportunity to inform her homeland of her whereabouts, which made Bern the only reliable haven for her to risk.
The lady arrived in Bern raggedly dressed and smelled from days without a proper bath. The latter was quickly remedied, though it took a little longer for her to obtain proper clothing: the kind of clothing that would be presentable to a royal audience. She later learned, after her exile from Laus, that the Lausian marquessate fired all of the staff personnel who serviced her, which included her personal tailor. That person also fled to Bern and was fully willing to supply Cecily with proper clothing for this occasion. She had no money of her own to afford the cost of obtaining the cloth for tailoring, but Cecily was able to siphon funds from her organization, the Eight Republics, through her agents in the country. Through purchasing, transporting, and sewing, it took over a week to prepare her garments: plenty of time to prepare for a meeting with the Bernese royalty.
Although she would be readily recognized by any Lycian spies that may be within Bern, Cecily was betting on the king holding to his policy of amending the nation's darker history. By doing so, he would not return her to Lycia without at least hearing her side of the story, if the emperor demands that she be returned to the empire. Therefore, Cecily saw it pertinent that she make her case before Lycia begins to place political pressure on Bern, the last bastion capable of standing against the Empire of Lycia.
For this meeting, Cecily wore a dark green dress that glimmered with silk, complete with bold, golden lines sprouting from the collar. The collar's design represented the mane of a lion: the centerpiece of the Lausian coat of arms. Over it, Cecily wore a long cloak of royal purple, trimmed in gold colors. She studied her raiment in front of a mirror, running her fingers through her hair for any knots that she may have missed with the brush.
"Your opinion, Theodore?" she asked.
"Like a marquess of Laus," the rogue replied. He was leaning against the nearby dresser, resting his head on one arm. He was supposed to remain in Laus, but managed to reassign agents of the Eight Republics in order to be around Cecily. Unsurprising, as he was Cecily's most loyal subject.
"Good," she answered. "Let us be off: it would be no good if we make him wait."
The coach was just outside with its attendant waiting by the door. Theodore was accustomed to the routine, positioning himself across from the attendant as he offered Cecily a hand to step inside the coach before entering after the lady. The interior is as comfortable as any other coach, though it could never be as comfortable as Cecily's own coach. The fluffy seats were not broken in, so they resisted her weight.
The trip to the castle was largely uneventful. The streets were bustling with activity, paying little heed to the coach as it made its way to the lord's mansion. It is an entirely different feeling than in Lycia, where the crowd flocked to the appearance of the coach, hoping to get a glimpse of whichever dignitary is passing through. It is not as though they showed no respect. The men who laid eyes on Cecily as she passed gave a courteous nod or a tip of the hat while the women offered her a smile.
'This is the Bern of today,' Cecily thought. It is a far cry from the Bern that she knew from the history books.
Servants were waiting in the courtyard as the coach finally pulled to a stop in front of the three-story mansion. A mixture of men and women, Cecily noted. How thoughtful.
"Welcome to Lord Randolf's private residence," one of the female servants greeted the couple. "The lord himself is waiting inside."
"Wait here, Theodore," she told her accomplice before stepping down from the coach. The walkway was constructed with expensive stone that echoed a rich tone underneath her high heels with flowered hedges to guide her to the door.
Randolf looked both young and old. Although he could not be any older than his early thirties, his hair is already graying. Perhaps from stress: he is a trusted advisor to the king himself, after all.
"I trust your trip here was pleasant?" he asked, offering a hand to the lady.
"The roads to Bern are the same as ever," Cecily answered. She curtsied before taking his hand.
"I already know why you seek an audience," Randolf said as he guided her to the lounge. "But I cannot promise anything. Wine?"
"Half glass," Cecily replied and a servant obliged, pouring into a glass held on a tray before offering it to her. "How much do you know of what is occurring in Lycia, Lord Randolf? Surely, you understand the gravity of the situation with such knowledge."
"Bits and pieces, I can surmise," he said.
A political response: there is no doubt in Cecily's mind that Bern had placed spies within Lycia in order to gather information about what is happening. However, she had no intention of antagonizing what is possibly the only country capable of holding back Lycia's legions. She took the glass from the servant and sipped it. Too bitter.
"The Emperor is consolidating his control over the marches as he annexes the Etruscan territories. The sudden disappearances of nobles, many whom I know as respectable individuals, across the lands are evident of this," Cecily said.
"But it is still troubling as to why he is doing all of this. The Church of Sanctity is definitely involved, though the purpose still eludes me," she continued. "The wisdom of merchants tell us that time is the most valuable commodity. Of my understanding of the Emperor, it is only a matter of time before Lycia turns its gaze elsewhere. But where? Sacae? Ilia? Bern? Of these three, Bern is the greatest prize, yet it is also the most dangerous foe. However, the same could have been said of Etruria before its defeat. There is no guarantee of Bern being able to survive by letting Lycia make the first move."
"I understand your desperation, but we will remain as firm as a mountain," Randolf said. He stood up, doing a short flourish of the wrist -- for no apparent reason -- before reaching for his glass.
"Trust me when I say that Bern is not idling. Time may bring profit, but the greatest profit comes when the harvest is reaped at the right moment," he said. "Be patient."
"I'll trust your judgment, but I won't hide my reservations, Randolf," Cecily bowed her head.
"I see. If that is all, would you like to take the rest of the wine back to your residence?" the lord gestured to the bottle held on the servant's tray.
"I would like you to savor it as much as I have," Cecily dismissed him.
"In that case, I'll escort you back to the coach," Randolf offered his arm for her to hold.
Arm in hand, the two returned outside and soon, Cecily was on her way back to her inn room. She said nothing of the matter to Theodore, who immediately understood what happened. Cecily received nothing. Bern will not move.
The lady arrived in Bern raggedly dressed and smelled from days without a proper bath. The latter was quickly remedied, though it took a little longer for her to obtain proper clothing: the kind of clothing that would be presentable to a royal audience. She later learned, after her exile from Laus, that the Lausian marquessate fired all of the staff personnel who serviced her, which included her personal tailor. That person also fled to Bern and was fully willing to supply Cecily with proper clothing for this occasion. She had no money of her own to afford the cost of obtaining the cloth for tailoring, but Cecily was able to siphon funds from her organization, the Eight Republics, through her agents in the country. Through purchasing, transporting, and sewing, it took over a week to prepare her garments: plenty of time to prepare for a meeting with the Bernese royalty.
Although she would be readily recognized by any Lycian spies that may be within Bern, Cecily was betting on the king holding to his policy of amending the nation's darker history. By doing so, he would not return her to Lycia without at least hearing her side of the story, if the emperor demands that she be returned to the empire. Therefore, Cecily saw it pertinent that she make her case before Lycia begins to place political pressure on Bern, the last bastion capable of standing against the Empire of Lycia.
For this meeting, Cecily wore a dark green dress that glimmered with silk, complete with bold, golden lines sprouting from the collar. The collar's design represented the mane of a lion: the centerpiece of the Lausian coat of arms. Over it, Cecily wore a long cloak of royal purple, trimmed in gold colors. She studied her raiment in front of a mirror, running her fingers through her hair for any knots that she may have missed with the brush.
"Your opinion, Theodore?" she asked.
"Like a marquess of Laus," the rogue replied. He was leaning against the nearby dresser, resting his head on one arm. He was supposed to remain in Laus, but managed to reassign agents of the Eight Republics in order to be around Cecily. Unsurprising, as he was Cecily's most loyal subject.
"Good," she answered. "Let us be off: it would be no good if we make him wait."
The coach was just outside with its attendant waiting by the door. Theodore was accustomed to the routine, positioning himself across from the attendant as he offered Cecily a hand to step inside the coach before entering after the lady. The interior is as comfortable as any other coach, though it could never be as comfortable as Cecily's own coach. The fluffy seats were not broken in, so they resisted her weight.
The trip to the castle was largely uneventful. The streets were bustling with activity, paying little heed to the coach as it made its way to the lord's mansion. It is an entirely different feeling than in Lycia, where the crowd flocked to the appearance of the coach, hoping to get a glimpse of whichever dignitary is passing through. It is not as though they showed no respect. The men who laid eyes on Cecily as she passed gave a courteous nod or a tip of the hat while the women offered her a smile.
'This is the Bern of today,' Cecily thought. It is a far cry from the Bern that she knew from the history books.
Servants were waiting in the courtyard as the coach finally pulled to a stop in front of the three-story mansion. A mixture of men and women, Cecily noted. How thoughtful.
"Welcome to Lord Randolf's private residence," one of the female servants greeted the couple. "The lord himself is waiting inside."
"Wait here, Theodore," she told her accomplice before stepping down from the coach. The walkway was constructed with expensive stone that echoed a rich tone underneath her high heels with flowered hedges to guide her to the door.
Randolf looked both young and old. Although he could not be any older than his early thirties, his hair is already graying. Perhaps from stress: he is a trusted advisor to the king himself, after all.
"I trust your trip here was pleasant?" he asked, offering a hand to the lady.
"The roads to Bern are the same as ever," Cecily answered. She curtsied before taking his hand.
"I already know why you seek an audience," Randolf said as he guided her to the lounge. "But I cannot promise anything. Wine?"
"Half glass," Cecily replied and a servant obliged, pouring into a glass held on a tray before offering it to her. "How much do you know of what is occurring in Lycia, Lord Randolf? Surely, you understand the gravity of the situation with such knowledge."
"Bits and pieces, I can surmise," he said.
A political response: there is no doubt in Cecily's mind that Bern had placed spies within Lycia in order to gather information about what is happening. However, she had no intention of antagonizing what is possibly the only country capable of holding back Lycia's legions. She took the glass from the servant and sipped it. Too bitter.
"The Emperor is consolidating his control over the marches as he annexes the Etruscan territories. The sudden disappearances of nobles, many whom I know as respectable individuals, across the lands are evident of this," Cecily said.
"But it is still troubling as to why he is doing all of this. The Church of Sanctity is definitely involved, though the purpose still eludes me," she continued. "The wisdom of merchants tell us that time is the most valuable commodity. Of my understanding of the Emperor, it is only a matter of time before Lycia turns its gaze elsewhere. But where? Sacae? Ilia? Bern? Of these three, Bern is the greatest prize, yet it is also the most dangerous foe. However, the same could have been said of Etruria before its defeat. There is no guarantee of Bern being able to survive by letting Lycia make the first move."
"I understand your desperation, but we will remain as firm as a mountain," Randolf said. He stood up, doing a short flourish of the wrist -- for no apparent reason -- before reaching for his glass.
"Trust me when I say that Bern is not idling. Time may bring profit, but the greatest profit comes when the harvest is reaped at the right moment," he said. "Be patient."
"I'll trust your judgment, but I won't hide my reservations, Randolf," Cecily bowed her head.
"I see. If that is all, would you like to take the rest of the wine back to your residence?" the lord gestured to the bottle held on the servant's tray.
"I would like you to savor it as much as I have," Cecily dismissed him.
"In that case, I'll escort you back to the coach," Randolf offered his arm for her to hold.
Arm in hand, the two returned outside and soon, Cecily was on her way back to her inn room. She said nothing of the matter to Theodore, who immediately understood what happened. Cecily received nothing. Bern will not move.
Insurrection - Lady Cecilia "Cecily" of Laus, third in line to the Laus marquessate