[Tavern|Shei|Closed (GF)] L'esprit de Jaedaxia

[Évariste Verdier]

Timestamp: 30th of Ioannes, Summer of Era I of the Celestine Mandate, Era XIII Post Fractum.

Ahhhh, the Crown. There was probably not a well-informed person in the whole of the empire who had not heard about the famous Prime tavern, and Evariste had been no exception. Besides having being giving more or less an imperial brush-off when inquiring into lodgings at the palace, which was rather disappointing if not insulting to the Empire's next Emperor, he had nevertheless been eager to see the interior of the place.

And so he had, and along with it had had a nice drink, meal, and conversation too. Not only that, he had been informed of just how long he had to stay in Prime before the wonderful trip to the Isle of the Crown would be on its way. Thus, when drink and company had run about - and he had only had a very modest amount too, only a bottle - he approached the front desk in order to book a room for four darkenings. Instantly the Crown Suite seemed rather tempting. The expense did not even cross his mind - having a finite purse was not a concept he had been particularly useful.

He gave a dashing smile to the young woman manning the bookings desk. Blonde, pretty in her way, but rather dull, he mused. Not an interesting or distinguishing feature about her. None the less he treated her to the usual Jaedaxian spiel, more out of habit then any desire to bed her.

"Bonjour, mon cher. I would like to book zhe Crown Suite for quatre nuits, s'il vous plait."

This he said in a rather loud voice, generally to impress anyone who was in hearing range, and to let any of the female persuasion in the vicinity know that a dashing and handsome young bachelor had just checked into the most expensive rooms in the establishment.

OOC: Anyone else who wants to join please wait for Shei to post first, ta.

[Shei'yein Neydremi]

The easy warmth of the Crown bathed the elf’s slender form, casually reclined in a wooden chair at a table close to the desk. A modest pracenda was arranged on the table before him – a plate of chicken and gravy, a small dish of vegetables, the cut of rib and ham, and the still-warm husk of a lobster. He curled a half-empty glass of Platian Chablis in his hand, allowing the clear wine within to play casually within the confines of the glass before taking a single, brief sip. It had been a long time since the pressures of his profession had allowed him to have a clean, warm meal. Wealth carried with it responsibility, and though his finances had placed him within the gentle classes, his vocation was terror. The calm mask of refinement hid beneath it an unrelenting heart, harbinger of a brutal age of freedom through strife.

He was well financed, though, and despite the fact that usage of his wealth was a rare occurrence, it would be rarer still for the elf to endure hardship that did not have a purpose. As such, he’d booked the most expensive room in the tavern, the Crown Suite. It was rare enough that he wasn’t sleeping in a rain soaked field, sword clenched to his chest, or in an arcanically-cloaked bubble near a battleground, and by the gods, he planned to enjoy his rest. The elf had already booked the suite, of course, for several cycles – better to spend a bit of extra coin and have it for more brightenings than needed, of course, than to be left out in the rain before the expedition started.
It hadn’t been difficult to do, nor had he had much competition or dispute. The expense of it all added up, after all, especially for the common citizen, or even a rich businessman. The people had never been rich, and with the state of the empire as it was now, even the wealthy had begun to horde their wealth, sensing the storm that was to come.

It came as a surprise, then, to hear the loud – and rather, if the elf were to be asked, boisterous – voice announce that he would be booking the Crown Suite. Shei’yein looked up from his pracenda, chewing thoughtfully on a small piece of chicken as looked over at the well-dressed fellow who’d just made his “discrete” proclaiment. The woman at the reception had seen the elf pass through the tavern once or twice a brightening – she was the same one that had checked him in when he’d first arrived, and he did tend to have his evening meals within the establishment. As her eyes dashed over to him unsurely, the elf made a dismissive motion with his hand. It would not be a problem.

Rising from his seat, his glass still idly in his hand, the elf smiled amusedly, clearing his throat.

“I’m afraid that would be rather difficult, my friend, for as far as I know, there is indeed only one Crown Suite, and it has been booked by yours truly. But of course, if you would like one of the less... expensive... suites, I’m sure the madam can be of assistance, yes?”

[Alexis Sapientia]

Fish and scallops tended to disagree with the young man, though considering his profession, one could have considered it quite odd, indeed.

Alexis Sapientia was busy dining on the Warrior's Feast, and justly so. Thirty-two ounces of beef, spiced and cooked to perfection, a whole baked potato, with spicy Yarrowlish cheese, melted, and laid liberally on it, fine rice pilaf with a secret combination of spices, steamed broccoli heads, with melted cheddar cheese, steamed Julian carrots, a fresh sliced toasted roll, heaped with butter and a serving of our famous onion soup...such was the allure of the meal that he just had to find his way to the Crown Inn and Tavern after he'd dispatched his duties at the Admiralty. Oh, he'd be on his way to meet his wife, soon, and surprise her he would, indeed. The Governor of Prime had a predilection for fruit enchantments, as of late.

Clad as he was in a simple uniform of midnight black cloth, and a long, trailing sable leather greatcoat long enough to nearly reach his high-cut riding boots, he looked as inconspicuous as he could...sometimes, as he'd thought, conspicuous enough due to his being too inconspicuous. Be that as it may, there was also a reason for that.

Then came the voice of pure conceit, and Alexis couldn't help but be annoyed at such narcissism. Turning his head to ascertain the source of such...manners, all the young man could see was an arrogant Jaedexian.

Which was description enough. Odd how he used arrogant and Jaedexian in the same thought-process. Setting down his fork, he couldn't quite help but be drawn to the scene, particularly so as another individual approached, this one, an elf, Medonian, probably, similarly brown-haired, but with eyes that looked like they could pierce the best dwarven steel. And he was bearing a glass, at that!

Now there lay a classy fellow, Alexis thought to himself.

With the challenge given, and the gauntlet weighed, the Imperial Admiral couldn't help but turn his chair accordingly to observe this little entertainment, a smile soon making its way to his lips.

[Évariste Verdier]

The receptionist was about to open her mouth to reply when she was interrupted by Shei. Evariste turned and regarded the elf that had approached him. He never really had much time for elves of the male variety, but alas, often it was hard to tell the genders apart. That had got him into a tricky situation once or twice.

The wine though, Evariste eyed the glass that Shei'yein was holding. He had no idea what type of liquid it contained, thus unfortunately it was impossibly to determine the good taste of the intruder.

When Shei announced, in a rather polite and refined way, Evariste felt, that the Crown Suite had already been bought and paid for by himself a frown of unsatisfaction creased the jaedaxian's forehead at the dire news the elf delivered. Surely though, as Exchequer of Jaedaxia he was entitled... nay... it was his right to stay in the Crown Suite? This elf had probably done nothing to serve the empire.

"Monsieur, there must be some kind of mistake. I am sure that you can see I am superior to you in every way, therefore it iz moi who should be sleeping in the Crown Suite, oui? But worry not, moni ami, I shall give you time to vacate your things, and now doubt zhe mademoiselle at zhe desk will give you a refund."

His hand strayed to the hilt of his rapier, as it did in situations such as these, though he did not always intend to use the weapon. It was merely a reassurance on his part that it was there if he needed it. Most of the time.

[Shei'yein Neydremi]

“Superior in every way, ne?”

Looking into the human’s eyes, an easy smile rolled onto the elf’s face. While his face was soft and jovial, his eyes had narrowed. His elven body exuded amusement; his elven pride, however, felt not one iota of that emotion.. For one of the lesser races to insult him so offhandedly and so naturally – it was ridiculous. The power within him snarled, erratically manifesting through his wings in invisible cracks of psionic energy. He was not normally so easily irritated. The many brightenings of inaction waiting for the reply for the palace had begun to chaff his nerves. He had been asked to do the one thing that a man of action could seldom stand to do – wait.

His invisible wings stretched out, yearning to snap the offending figure’s neck in one smooth twist. Yet, this time, the elf’s eyes narrowed almost impercievably, and they stopped, frozen in their tracks. No. For a man as proud as this one, humiliation would prove a fate worse than death. And what better realm to do it in than the Crown, patron to hundreds upon hundreds in any given day? The elf rested his left hand casually on the hilt of Sinslay Stasis, drawing a slim finger along the neck of a crow’s tail at the base, entwining itself with a swallow and a dove.

The men and women of the tavern had begun to pay attention to the little spectacle by the reception, and by now, a crowd of some sorts had begun to form. Peasants, merchants, and politicians alike gathered, bumping shoulders to peer at the two seeming noblemen who faced each other in the makeshift ring of spectators. Someone, it seemed, had shooed the Crown’s guards away, or paid them off – most likely the same shifty leather-clad dwarf who was currently nudging his fellow spectators and taking bets on what seemed inevitably to come.

“An easy claim to test, then,” the elf continued, grinning as he drew his blade and tapped it casually on his shoulder. His wings shrunk into his body, unseen now on both the astral and the physical planes as they weaved their claims of Liberation into his body, speeding his pulse and fury to match that of the gods. His veins pulsed subtly as he touched his stick of rolled tobacco to his lips, drawing in and exhaling a cloud of chalky smoke in the Jaedaxian’s direction.

“With so many eyes here, I’d hate to be arrested for murder. First blood, young human?”

The sword gripped in his sinister sword hand, the elf gazed at the rapier, planning to observe the human’s skill by the manner in which he drew his blade. He had adopted a fluid stance – his feet were neutral, as was his body, crouched and angled slightly, his blade waiting for the blow which he’d allow to come first. The elf shrugged off his armoured draco-leather trenchcoat in one smooth motion, ever keeping his eyes on his foe. With a hiss and flourish of white silk, it cascaded to the ground, pooling like vanilla snow around his feet.