Damage Control (wide open)

[Andrea Marsilia]

Timestamp: Late candlemarks in a white-hot darkening of a blood-red Cryxatum Summer in the eleventh era of the Age of the Darkening; praised be reign of Her Most Imperial Majesty, Audrey the First.

City Hall was usually very quiet at night, come the times when the suns had said goodbye, and all was bedding down, or just about to. This was why it was one of the reasons Andrea loved working at this precise time instead on in the brightening; for starters, he could certainly get a lot more parchmentwork done, instead of being interrupted every five minutes because Mister so-and-so, resident in this town, had a petition to present—and could Master Marsilia please spare but a moment of his time?

This was also the time, come the close of the day, when he just loved reading the papers. It was a habit he’d been ingrained with; most of the time at Number One Prosperity Square, he usually got first dibs at the periodicals, what with Pala still snoring off a late night drink or some other activity with his fiancé, the delectable then-Aedile, Silver.

Now, at this sleepy town with the frigid river, he could only have the dammed things to himself just when everybody was just about asleep. A good thing, really, as most of the time, once he was done with ‘em, they’d all manage to find themselves out along with the rest of the brightening’s rubbish.

Hey, Andrea liked keeping a tidy desk.

Pouring himself a finger of a drink stolen from the inn where he unofficially held his quarters, he chomped on the end of his pipe, propped his boot-clad feet on an open drawer with a grateful sigh, and then, quite contentedly, spread open the paper. A particular line caught his eye.

Imperial Appointee Disappears: Mystique suspected!

Well, what else is new? He snorted at that, expelling smoke with his derision as he did so. Can’t expect those damn-fool mages to just up and fall down and die while at it, oh, goodness, no. Makes one wonder what it is Rico’s doing about all this, what with securing our frontier and so on. Haven’t really gone down to check out what it is the Maverians are doing nowadays, preparing themselves for a war that always seems to get itself moved down along the schedule come the Lunaria of the cycle…

Another inhale, and a distracted sip of the good tipple.

I wonder what it is Pirvan’s up to these brightenings. Never see him anymore…and it makes me wonder if he’s really getting it on with that Cassidy Al’lende, damn that woman. Never really liked her after that meet in Pirv’s house, of course. Why can’t all women be just like Elle, virtuous, kind, charitable, and got a good head on her shoulders, what what? Females like her always tend to get their prince. A satisfied chuckle. She really won the prize with that, the quiet-looking elf.

After nearly a month and a half, no word has reached the Herald as to the fate of one Pirvan Kaldres, the Acting Governor for Lauryl. It is believe that he visited the people of Mystique, immediately after the Empress ratified his appointment as Acting Governor of Lauryl. No word has been heard from him since, and the province grows more unstable as every cycle goes by.

Of course, you idiotic chronicler, it’s because I haven’t released a thing, what with Pirvan always being so hush-hush about his activities…and I did have misgivings about his always venturing out alone. We’ve got to release a tidbit or two, just to keep the crowd at bay, show them that the old boy’s busy doing his job, what with those buffoons preventing the spread of Truth and News. As for talk about the province growing unstable, surely, it’s got nothing to do with us…look at it! We bring back schools, better roads, better housing. We give them goodwill and a secure environment, most of it, paid out of old Pirvan’s pocket! Lex, Ordo, and Iustatique, the good old-fashioned way, just as the Empress commands it, may the gods continue to bless her. Looking up at his alcove, the empty space atop the fireplace reminded him of something.

I really should find myself a decent artist, have ‘im paint a good portrait of Audrey Imperatrix.

Another sip of the drink.

He folded the page horizontally with his drink-laden right hand, setting the periodical to the same level as his eyes, what with his left hand busy balancing the pipe. Another contented puff, and he continued reading the article. Perhaps I really should get away, I mean, all this work and I haven’t gone on a really decent vacation. Maybe I should check out Zinn’Sunn, or High Peak, in the guise of showing the flag and all that. Nothing bad with that, really, and on the whole, it makes for good government, showing the officials that we want to be in touch with them people…

It is believed that His Excellency, and one of his aides, and Commander Riconus Xin'dell of the Mavarius Regiment of Frigid River, are in the hands of the usurper Chameleon de Lylles, the former claiminent to the title of Governor of Lauryl. Citizens of Frigid River believe that both are being held illegally.

“Aslan the fething World-Bound!” Why wasn’t I notified of this?

Needless to say, that was the end of that, what with his pipe having fallen over to the carpet, and the drink spilling into his lap, and just about breaking on the edge of the chair.

Cursing more as he tried to fathom the aesthetic and political mess he’d inadvertently gotten himself in, he hobbled onto the nearby doorstep, as pissed as a peddler found poking another’s pots and pans.

Opening it, he pretty much stumbled down the stairs and out the door, near-colliding with a Maverian standing lonely watch outside the municipal edifice, a few of his fellows most probably at their posts.

“You, guardsman! Get me Andavariel, Councilor Natali, the Aedile and your officer of the watch! No, wait…wake your fething Commander up right quick as well. Call out the guard, close the city gates…’

Breathing heavily, he tried to make his brain see straight, as he tried to continue making sense of the situation. This is nothing more than a fething catastrophe. Puffing like a landed fish, he tried to relax. Calm down, Andrea, wouldn’t want to let the sentries know you’re spooked right now, don’t you?

Well, feth it.

“…and godsdammit, make sure you get someone to make us a decent pot of tea, now will you? Clear the main room, we’ll be needing it for a meeting. Get going!”

With a near-shove of the guardsman’s shoulder, he let loose any fears he had with the fellow as well.
As Pala’s right hand, he’d had to deal with a couple of crises now and then, but most of the time, he had the old bloke to really lean on. Now that the Guv himself was gone, and his military chief as well…such things did not bode well for Imperial rule in the Lauryls.

And he happened to be the Chancellor of Frigid River, pretty much the man on the spot.

As always, there lies the very first rule in government: Politics is perception…and as in all things, nature abhors a vacuum.

Ioannes Almighty, what the Jorel do we do now…?

[Andavariel]

After visiting the Lady Klen-Ais, the guardsmen sent with such haste by Andrea returned with a rather sheepish expression on his face, and a note.

Oh my, After a whole 2 months of leaving his business to me, the Chancellor and Prelate condescends to grace us with his presence. Perhaps the Chancellor should pay more attention to his responsibilities in small towns, as much as Tirisfal seems to get most of his attention these days - the locals might get a little upset if they realise your time for them is second hand.

I shall be along shortly, and no doubt so shall Ameilia and Grent.

Evidently, Andrea had managed to neglect something during his tenure. People would not notify him of any news unless he talked to them regularly too.

OOC: hehe Fun!

[Andrea Marsilia]

Impertinent little bugger, Andrea thought, crumpling the message as he did so, wanting so very much to strangle the messenger. It just wasn't done--strangling the messenger, that is--and besides, it wouldn't do to be facing a murder charge at this very moment when the province needed him most.

The new and improved City Hall, almost three times as big as the old one, built to suit the growing city. In the center of the building was a room, circular, used as the meeting hall. Comfortable looking couches were along the wall with assorted decorations such as sculptures, paintings, and plants in between. In the center was a circular table that could sit twenty at any one time, all the chairs were the same around the table. There were four doors usable as entrances and exits, directly north, south, west and east. The entrances were all guarded but everyone was allowed entrance through the building and into the conference room.

OOC: Taken from 'Set in Stone'.

Calm, Andrea, calm down, he thought to himself, near-seething thanks to the female's effrontery. He'd been used to having his orders instantly obeyed, and being given the run-around (albeit, quite daintily, and with a silk sash) by no less than this female was something that, quite literally, got his goat. It was worse than dealing with the Aedile Darian, may Orod in his logic take that scalyskin to an early grave.

Now he had to deal with this female, and he was not liking it at all.

What the feth, it was part of the job.

Drumming his fingers on the empty table (making sure he sat at his usual chair on the right side, and not at The Guv's, he awaited the arrival of the provincial government...or what was left of it, at any rate.

The chain of command, of course, just had to be preserved, at all cost. They were Her Imperial Majesty's representatives in Lauryl, and as such, were charged with the particular duty of showing all that was good and best about the Empire...particularly to these rebellious heathen individuals who dared defy her so.

Well, that was their lookout, and not Andrea's.

Tea. Must have tea.

[Andavariel]

Andavariel was in a grumpy mood. She had made inquiries of the guard, and had finally found out where all that paper work she had been sending out had actually gone. And the man handn't sent any of the ones she needed back.

And now, when he finally pulled his head out of the sand, he had the effrontery to order her away from her private pursuits into the town hall that well, hadn't really been used since Pirvan had last called a meeting. The local people of Frigid River did not want to become a bigger city. Slightly more prosperous, maybe, but this new town hall was completely out of character.

But then people always did hate government projects. I do too, come to think of it. I wonder if Audrey will ever respond to my message.

She was dressed simply. No gown for her, but well worn breeches, a comfortable tunic, and a russet coat that set off her autumnal colouring to perfection. Her mass of hair was not contained in its long plait for once, and hung down her back in a glorious red gold mass of waves. A small clip held it back from her face, which was fresh and clean of make up paste.

In many ways, the ample figure of Andavariel Klen-Ais could be called imposing; and she was going to take full advantage of that. She strode in to City Hall, fully ignoring the guards around the perimeter, and took her place on the Left side of the Governor's chair. Which was really the Thane's chair if you thought about it.

She carried with her a small sheaf of papyrus, which she had found to be cheaper than the paper they used in the East.

"So, Mr. Marsilia, you've woken from your nap. I trust you had a peaceful slumber, and are happy about waking the rest of the Cabinet from sleep?" She barely gave him chance to answer before continuing.

"It is customary, Mr. Chancellor, when leading the people, to be actually seen amoung them. Or did you return to Tirisfal after the last meeting His Execellency called? You certainly didn't make yourself known around here!"

Andavariel was, surprisingly, a little het up. She didn't [i]care[/b] about FR, she told herself, yet she found herself extremely angry at this silly mortal who had essentially faded into the background when the city, nay the province, had needed a leader. He hadn't even noticed that Pirvan had not returned.

"Was it my Herald article that finally caught your attention, or did someone from the military point out what was under your nose all along?"

[Andrea Marsilia]

If there was one thing Andrea couldn’t abide, it was arrogance. No, it was needless arrogance, the type this…this…female…trumpeted about as if she were some trollop all dolled-up and ready to once more go sashaying down some Riparian sidestreet. So what if she’s yet anotherone of Pirvan’s ladies-in-waiting? It’s not that I particularly care about their little arrangements, if ever they have any…

“…and a good darkening to you, too, Lady Klen-Ais,” he similarly grumped, if not completely groused.

Andrea was certainly feeling the effects of a very long day, added to which were the stresses of the moment. Sleep deprivation, surely, was going to be the least of his worries. The province was leaderless, and like a similarly headless chicken, it was darting off, to and fro, as erratic in its movements as a snake whose membranes had been given a sudden jolt. Standing up from the table to fetch clean scrolls, quills, and ink, he began processing what it was he’d exactly heard from her.

If I wanted sarcasm I would have spoken with the Aedile Darian, thank you very much, his eyes pretty much declared, staring as they were from across the table. What is it with these godsdammed scalyskins? Having had enough of the incessant leg-pulling and pussyfooting, he decided to speak, before she opened her mouth and thus rankled him further.

“Listen, lady, this is no time for that. This mindless internecine squabbling has got to stop. I know we haven’t gotten along well since the beginning; I know we’ve had our differences. There’s been enough of that.” He leaned forward, across the table, hands forming a suitable vertical chin-support. Her taunting was starting to needle him, truth be told, and if only he weren’t such a patient fellow…

He took a deep breath, and decided to begin…from the beginning. Perhaps he could explain his side to this wonderfully logical scalyskin, who tended to jeer instead of helping ease the communal fear. The trouble of all bureaucracies, as well as bureaucrats who’d been captured by the system, basically…so very used were they to bureaucratic inertia, that when the impelling force runs out, everyone goes mad trying to look for a propeller to get them going once again. Pfft. Typical, like all other unthinking drones, absolutely, positively, clueless without the presence of the queen bee. Andrea didn’t need an advisor to advise him that.

“My Lady, as you very well know, I’m a very private person. I prefer working in the sidelines rather than in the limelight…it’s there where I feel I can do the most good,” he said as an opener, trying to be very much like the voice of reason, which he sincerely felt he was. “I let people like Pirvan play the hero, taking in the adulation of the masses, while humble scriveners like me do most of the legwork. The truth is, I didn’t want to preempt him, in any way,” he concluded, and then entered into a somewhat regrettable smile, as if suddenly lost in thought, which in truth, he was. “…Too much loss of face. Imagine how it would look if I, just a mere civil servant, were to upstage him, an Imperial appointee, much less someone who’d seen and had an audience with The Sovereign Personage herself…”

Interestingly enough, in the course of the past two months, he’d barely seen head or toe of the rest of the provincial officials. While it was true that as Pirvan’s Chief Minister—a title that hadn’t been confirmed by His Imperial Excellency, at least not yet—he had the right to call and exercise general supervision over the provincial council, the real truth was that he’d pretty much left things to the Guv’s prerogative. Pirvan, being Pirvan, wasn’t really big on focused discussions, endless meetings and such. Andrea was content being the office-minder, more of an overqualified counselor, if not more than a hired secretary, really, instead of being the go-getting officile who pretty much told the Governor what it was he was going to say, and what precisely his views were on certain subjects. It was a role he’d pretty much grown into and known quite well…after all, hadn’t he been thane in all but name, once upon a time in Tirisfal?

Was it timidity, then, that forced him into such an aloof and regressive state? Official timidity, perhaps. Ever since he’d left Carmelyn he’d pretty much kept to his circumscribed role, not taking on powers that weren’t conferred on him at first, fearful of the consequences. After all, hadn’t Stephan Woulofen Lescartes, First Knight of the Empress herself, been thrown into gaol, denied liberties, and all that? He was once a Senator of the Realm, not to mention a certified hero in his day, and with the Stars of Anna to prove it. If there was one thing to blame, it was that legalistic mindset…a mindset that had imprisoned him into keeping tacit approval with his fears, instead of venturing forth into the unknown and thereby displaying true leadership, even if he may hang for it.

Well, if that dammed female wanted it, all that could change, right now.

Looking on at the female with surprisingly keen eyes, and with a demeanor that seemed all the more confident, if not more competent, he addressed the half-elf, just so, the momentary silence all but forgotten. The feth with it. Toss the cards, roll the dice. Sometimes you wait for old lady Fate, and sometimes her younger and prettier sister, Destiny, just out of spite, chooses you.

Yet this is not the time for so much thought, Andrea. This is the time to act. He took a deep breath at that, suddenly feeling chills all over. If this is how it feels when the Planetar of History passes by, I wouldn’t want any part of it. She’s got a clammy touch, very much like Death’s, but then again, if oral tradition is to be believed, then I have nothing to do with it. The gods have willed it, and who am I, a sole mortal, to refuse? A reservation made itself known in his head. Unless of course I’ve been chosen to become their latest plaything; in which case, I would have to say, that my life was pretty good while it lasted. Surely my madness will come before my ultimate fall. Any more foreboding thoughts were forgotten as he discovered, arising in him, what seemed to be a newfound resolve, if not an inborn conviction, as if he had been waiting for this opportunity all his life, just before it was suddenly thrust upon him.

“Lady Klen-Ais,” he began in a voice that spoke in calm and measured tones, seemingly now devoid of any informality he’d previously possessed, in any form, whatsoever, “…by virtue of my appointment as Chancellor of the Provincial Council by His Imperial Excellency Pirvan Kaldres, I have been entrusted with the following duty:”

He enumerated the same, having, in the past two months, had sufficient time to have committed the same to memory. It was in the letter Pirvan had given him, the very same that had predated his departure from Tirisfal.

“…to establish an office for executive affairs, wherein he shall recognize persons of skill and talent to serve in the capacity of an official in the provincial government, and said officials shall ensure coordination from among the agencies and ministries of the Provincial Government; or, undertake specific duties or functions in pursuit of the Auctoritas mandated for the Governor; that is, to execute the policies and programmes of the Governor and his courts and councils, and assign specific responsibilities and duties to other members of the Provincial Council and their constituent ministries.”

Taking a second deep breath, he continued, with little hesitation, writing on paper as he did so. He could easily recall the precise provisions of the dammed thing called the Articles of Imperium, having been gifted with a nice copy of the same, come Primehiems morn. Nothing more could prove more interesting reading come the darkenings, with the exception of the odd copy of The Herald, of course.

“…and in my capacity as the same, in accordance with Article 94 of the Articles of Imperium; as delineated by Title XVII of the Articles of the Imperium, I would like your counsel as to my taking the following precautionary steps in pursuance of our Governor’s mandate.”

“One. I am implementing His Imperial Excellency’s policy with regard to the current situation with Mystique. The Maverians are to be placed on full alert; all leaves are to be cancelled. Stored weapons are to be issued, a double guard set at the gates and walls at all times. I am likewise calling up the local Frigid River militia and impressing all other auxiliaries into the armed service.

“Two. I am, in the Governor’s name, placing local militias under provincial command. Article 95 provides for this, and I am sure plans have already been in the works. I want this to get done, immediately. Summon officers from Zinn’Sunn and High Peak to a war council; have representatives from their governments attend, as well.

“Three. I want the senior military commander here present to begin plans for a siege of Mystique. Set up a perimeter. Nothing goes in; nothing goes out. We starve the resolve out of them. If so much as a tinker’s wagon passes by, I want to be the first to know of it. If Mystique refuses to provide entry for issues of The Herald, well, I’ve got another idea up my sleeve,” he paused at that, and made a mental note to send a messenger posthaste, to Archadoon. He could certainly use their particular expertise.

“Four. I want to know the current state of our provisions, of our treasury, and of our military personnel. If we’re going to trade more than barbs with these mages, I want to make sure that we have the best-trained, and the best-equipped soldiers to fight under the Imperial banner. Can we count on other Imperial support? Troops from Midpoint, or Riparia for example? How are we fixed for counter-mages?” He looked on for any confirmatory signal.

“Five. I want Lady Natali, if she has not already done so, to appoint a Prefect for Frigid River, and to maintain and ensure that we have a local system of judicial order. The same goes for High Peak and Zinn’Sunn. If we have anyone else learned in the law, we need to get them seated as Justiciar, an interim post, at the very least. Wouldn’t want skirmishers posing as bandits to go unpunished. ” He paused, and looked around, settling his gaze on a particular face. “How about you, Lady Andavariel? Do you feel up to it?” An inquiring smile, devoid of all malice, appeared on his face, eyes, seeking a reply to his sincerely-asked question.

[Maddyn]

"But what you want, and what will happen Mr. Marsilla is a different matter altogether I'm afraid." a soft voice spoke up with more than a touch of patronisation as the Lady Ameilia Natalyi de Lylles walked in. And far from looking the slightest bit pleased about the matter at hand given the 'summoning' she'd recieved as if some commoner was going to order her about. It was one thing entirely to be polite, curteous and in all remain out of the limelight within Frigid River or Lylles Palace as a whole and immerse herself in her duties. And quite another for some foriegner to go about and fetch herself.

Nevermind that Andrea had completely bungled things it seemed in regards to just who Ameilia was here. Councillor indeed!, Ameilia had served as a representative of the Lylles influence for over a decade, had headed the City Council of the place for patterns since the Aethergem had shattered and she'd been forced to clean up three Thanes mistakes now. Four if Pirvan was to be counted just yet. Pirvan might own some quarter of the town through cause of his own pocket, but in the end Ameilia considered Frigid River property of the Lylles and the Families and anyone who wanted to dispute that interest could always go for a little walk to the Lylles Palace to explain the situation.

It'd been a poor cycle for Ameilia, she'd had to deal with explaining the situation to dearest Grent just why some people were having some rather serious objections to the surplus supplies of fish due to the trade dilema's. She'd found when attempting a simple illusion to mask the grey streaks in her hair that Ameilia no longer could consider herself a true Mistress of Mysticism and what knowledge remained within her mind seemed to be cast aside or locked behind walls the Lady Lylles couldn't break. It'd happened when repairing an old button eye on Kira's favourite doll... something she'd forgotten for so long. Stress had many a reaction on the mind.

Some six feet in height, Ameilia was a slender woman who betrayed an Elvish lineage somewhere in her ancestory; an inevitability for the majority of Lylles given their Matron's racial traits. Angular features, icey white skin that wasn't so much as unhealthy as appearing Esh'lahier-like from her grandmother with long black hair kept in a bun with streaks of silver running from her temples that'd been there since birth. Her garb was simple, a white blouse, a brown leather belt about her waist and pale blue skirts. The expression she bore however was the one usually worn by women during that second before intending a stout slap across some infidel's cheeks for poor manners.

"If you fullfilled your responsibilities rather than hiding Marsilla in Carmelyan you'd realise that like that Dorin, Lord Kaldres appointed your welcome is... tenuous and barely salvagable at present." Ameilia pointed out, her voice cold and distant. "I will not appoint a Prefect, nor a Justicar as if you're so free to be quoting I recommend you see just who appoints those people. If you kept up with things Marsilla rather than galavanting about the Imperium rather than being so neglectful you'd realise too that Zinn Sunn's done nothing in Era's for us, and High Peak switched alligences. Lylles Palace hasn't shifted and the General of Lauryl is doing Diana knows what!"

A deep breath was necessary at about this point in time, Ameilia's hands balled up beside her. Hitting Andrea really would've done quite a lot for the Lady's morale right about now.

Grent Ironstone however wouldn't arrive, not for someone like Andrea when there was business to attend to. Not when he'd proven just like Vylle really and let Frigid River suffer because of those decisions. Of all the people who Pirvan had brought with them, only Andavariel had made an effort it seemed.. had spoken with Grent and herself, had met with Crystania. But unlike Vylle, Andrea wasn't going to have quite so many problems to deal with... at least, if he kept his cool and minded his manners. He hadn't been marked for one as a supposed Imperial Spy... rather, Andrea had things a little bit differently.
He got marked as a Heretic instead considering his time within Tirisfal and as someone who worked supposedly against the once Thane of Frigid River - Aerienne Sarista. Whether this assumption on Ameilia's behalf was true or not remained unseen, everything lay upon perspective and clarification.

Just as no Commander who reveal themselves, the last Commander of Frigid River's City Militia had been assassinated when Prince Ebany of Ethgan'tor had seiged Frigid River and crucified the last Thane for renegging on an important trade negotiation due to a lacking of sufficient food being sent through the Forest of Light by the Esh'lahier. Mystique's position and civil war had caused problems after all. Ironic... the fish dilema could've been sorted out so simply otherwise. Lieutenant Cullyn remained the presiding Officer in charge of the force who acted as the Militia, and even he had vanished... the Rangers themselves somewhere abroad and having failed to report in for some cycles. The Marvarius Regiment had had quite a few people leave after an apparent victory over Mystique that'd been a rather hasty in all... a Division at best rather than a Regiment.

All because Pirvan and those of whom he'd appointed had failed to do their job and set their goals abroad while forgetting that the house of cards they were working on had a rather flakey foundation if one of them toppled over.

"Lady Klen-Ais, your advise is indeed saught after..." Ameilia added at the end, smiling apologetically to her and only then seemed to calm down a couple notches as if her initial words had taken quite a bit out of her.

[Andavariel]

OOC: Andrea, check your PMs re: referring to my PC as a dragon. I'm a damn HALF ELF

IC:

She listened to his points without interrupting; despite her contempt for his Chancellorship over the past season, she was quite capable of waiting to see if he had anything worth listening to before she dismissed his importance completely. A little voice at the back of her head was finding this all highly amusing, and had begun furnishing Andavariel with another round of asinine comments. She was, of course, oblivious to his thoughts of her. She had never sucummbed to the famed charms that had so allured Cassidy, and she did not dress like one eager for sexual congress. Andavariel was never one to fit many stereotypes, and if Andrea ever looked beyond his prejudices, he would soon learn.

She shared none of his fear, she had already resigned herself to a hard slog and the possibility of blood shed locally. A part of her that was often ignored positively revelled in the prospect, in fact, but on the whole she had spent approximately two cycles patrolling her room in an effort to calm her nerves. Patience was something she had in abundance, although she new that Andrea would rapidly wear that patience thin. She had been about to answer with the hitherto unnoticed Lady Natalyi burst into the most impassioned monologue that Andavariel had ever heard from the woman.

She listened a little half heartedly, a bit of her brain was doing some slow thinking, and was putting two and two together. Grent had said that there were few to no admin staff on the payroll these days, yet he had sent one or two people to periodically carry away the mound of paperwork that she had done, or that had accumulated in her temporary office. She had assumed he had shoved them in the archives, or used them to fuel the Aedile office heating system. Obviously that wasn't the case....they must have been sent to a quite mouse of a man, squirreled away in his office for the last cycle.

The vague epiphany had her struggling to keep a straight face.

This was the nameless clerk who had dealt with much of the paperwork that no one else in the Town was willing to deal with. How amusing. Probably would not do to rub the poor man's face in it; he seemed close to apoplexy as it was; and co-operation would be better for Frigid River than squabbles; however cerebral they truly were.

Her attention fully focused on Amie again, she was surprised at the vehemence that she heard in the lady's voice. A true Mother at work. I wonder if Materna has taken an interest in this particular human, for Amie certainly seems to be one of Materna's in spirit, even if not consciously. A genuine smile came to her lips as Amie finished, and she nodded back with a shrug of her shoulders.

"No one ever made me promise to keep my opinions to myself, Amie, except a sister that I have not seen for many a pattern." Sister? What sister.....what the feth am I talking about NOW?! "Why don't you take a seat, I feel the three of us may be here a while, whether anyone else puts in an appearance or not. I think I would like something to soothe my throat while we discuss the future and safety of our people"

No flirting amiability now. The heart of a dragon is a true rough diamond, one that never gets cut or polished to the tune of mortal concepts of morality, feeling, or beauty. The mind that lay coiled up behind Andavariel's genuine enthusiasm and friendliness was not exactly showing, but was beginning to make itself heard within that auburn head. Her expression remained ease and friendliness, as if there had been no list of presumptive orders reeled off at her by what she considered a mere child. Her eyes, however, had lost a little of their soft welcome, had lost a little of their amusement. She was not, like Heron, one who often bungled her form. She remained entirely solid, entirely really, and very much the half elf politician. That melodious voice lost the snide remarks, and stuck to reciting exact responses to Andrea.

"As far as I am aware, the Mavarius Regiment is pretty much ALL the military might you can expect, although I have been trying to arrange for emergency defense classes for any able bodied person within the City. Zinn'sunn is busy trying to rebuild; they will have none left to aide a small town. High Peak was a token support when they were on our side, but their defection was noted in the Herald during the spring."

She paused to gather her thoughts. It was hard telling these things without wanting to slap the silly little boy. If I don't let him win, then I'll get stuck here. A traitorous thought bloomed, answered soon with a buzzing But I like it here. And I'm bored of playing second fiddle.

"I am not a military person, Your Excellency, but I can't imagine that a city of 5000 can do much against an army that must number double that."

There was another pause, another inward struggle as two different survival instincts urged her in different paths.

"Provoking their attack is not likely to help our position, Mr Marsilia. We starve them out, and they are forced into action. We need to give any imperial allies we might have some time to get here. However, I will obviously take the advise of a military Man on the best course in this situation, if one can be found. I took the, ah, liberty of sending a message to Audrey earlier this cycle; none of my messengers have returned yet, so I have no news as to whether they were successful.

As for the treasury, I heard Mr. Fyrrialt arrived back in Frigid recently, not that his return was popular. You might want to ask your guards about that. And as for everything else, those are reports that are currently being put together, as Pirvan has been...ah, expanding a little too fast. I'm not entirely sure what arrangements he made with the bank. "

She stopped her cold recital of her actions. There was no way she was going to go into detail about the fish problem. May be had a problem with his nose though? Surely an easterner like this would have complained by now?

"And....very much lastly, none of us have the authority to appoint a Prefect. As with many situations where positions are left unfilled or unattended to, others may have to step in an take additional duties to help fill the breech."

She took a deep breath, pondering her conclusion. Hadn't the silly fool realised how alone Frigid was? Hadn't he read any of those papers that had been shoved under his Chancellor's eyes in the past month? Not a single one had come from any of the major cities in the province. Precious few had come from the villages, and even then they had been from those along the banks of the river, not places like Mysty Marshyes or High Peak.

"You, Mr Marsilia, are the Chancellor of Frigid River. Whatever legal facts are within our equal grasp, we still have about the mutual influence on the rest of the province of a bowl full of ak'pronis. Our Governor is being held in Mystique, and the rest of the cabinet is Ioannes only knows where. We have no Thane, and we have no Imperially recognised positions. And as for your articles of Imperium, I think you might find that I have as much authority as you do."

[Andrea Marsilia]

Women!

For the third time tonight, Andrea cursed silently to himself, near-blindly incensed with the vagaries of females upon this Telath, which were surely unique, if not entirely…

…well, Jorel could probably think up a better and more descriptive curse-word. Andrea’s brain was too tired to contemplate any further, and they hadn’t even begun scratching the surface of this current problem…that is to say, predicament.

He never really understood this Lady Klen-Ais, and as the darkening progressed, the Chancellor was more of a mind that she was not the Gubernatorial mistress he had pictured her to be. If she was this pigheadedly obstinate (Andrea would later be wondering why he had to use both concepts in the same sentence), how on Ioannes’ green Telath could either of them really get to the sticking point? No, Andavariel was no mistress, for she harbored a tongue as sharp, and a mind as argumentative as the most rebellious being ever foisted upon this poor, poor world.

In that sense, surely the half-elf would have proven to be quite a suitable wife. Weren’t they all the same, speaking one thing and yet meaning another? Andrea couldn’t even comprehend whether she wanted him to seize power and give the province the strong leadership it needed; or if she preferred they all continue to govern by committee, debating matters to death while Lauryl burned…earlier, she’d been taunting him for his supposed weakness, and now she was prevailing upon him not to be the heavyhanded Emperor Andrea the First; may the gods have mercy ere that ever happen.

His fists tightened at that very thought.

Oh, what the feth, no one ever said government was easy…but having to deal with stubborn and utterly confusing political players like this female here tended to weaken one’s taste to serve.

Send her off to Mystique and Chameleon would certainly waste no time in suing for peace…

Now there’s an idea, his beleaguered brain thought. Tea! Where’s the fething tea?!

An exasperated sigh yet again escaped his lips.

Gallivanting around the Empire, so she said, or at the very least, insinuated!

When will these people realize that I am not who the daily chronicles say I am! I am no heretic, and that other Marsala fellow can burn at the stake for all I care!

That tore it. Or more specifically, that tore him.

“Aslan the World-Bound, woman, what do you expect me to do? Sit in here and twiddle my thumbs while the rebels march back and forth through the countryside? I haven’t been gallivanting around the Empire, as you so wholeheartedly accuse!” A pounded fist on the table went on to illustrate that particular point. “I was here, right here for the past few months, doing all the fething parchmentwork no one else seems to want to do!”

Shouting was never a good thing. It tended to polarize people, and it tended to needlessly alarm others who weren’t quite in on the discussion. Alas, Andrea was human, and one couldn’t exactly keep all this inside for so long.

Do you want to be Governor, Andavariel? Is that what this is all about? Nothing more but a FETHING grab for power? Aslan Almighty, as if things couldn’t get any worse…Great! All of Lauryl falls for such trifles! You can have your prized position for all I care. Go off and collect your political titles…I’ll be busy staving off the barbarians at the gate.

The former Trade Minister managed to calm down somewhat, a pounding headache making itself quite felt around his temples. In a softer, more conversational whisper, he continued.

“Look, I never said that I knew everything,” he tried to reason out, as always, returning back to square one. And you can stuff your beloved Articles of Imperium down some traitor’s throat for all I care, his brain continued to rage.

“I’m trying to find solutions here. Yes, we have no thane, but Lady Natali is President of the local Council. And I’m well aware that wanting and realizing matters are a different thing altogether. I’d like some help here.”

“For starters, are we presently at a state of martial law?”

[Andavariel]

What do I expect him to do? More than he has been doing for the last season, at the very least. The anger in is voice was intoxicating, although she did give Andrea the satisfation of seeing her tense as he slammed his fist down on the table Is he sincere, or just backpeddling in order to preserve any grasp he has on power? Or is he just trying to placate two grumpy old women until some male comes along that he can really talk to?

Uncomfortable with those thoughts, she was glad when a rather cautious looking guard finally arrived with refreshments. He was a bit big and clumsy for this sort of work, but his appearance gave her the opportunity to mull over Andrea's attitude towards her, and the true impact of his words. She took the liberty of pouring out tea for all three of them, hoping Amie would weigh in with an opinion of the young man.

"We cannot appoint what is not in our authority to appoint, Andrea, and neither can she. She supported Pirvan's candidacy, but it is Pirvan who had the ultimate power to appoint things on the local level, and he has not done so since his ratification by the Empress."

She took a delicate sip from her cup, taking a little time over the mouthful of tea before swallowing. She placed the cup and saucer back on the table in front her her, and rearranged her rather unruly mane of hair, tucking some escaped wisps behind her pointed ears.

"We are not under martial law at the moment, although I doubt much objection would be raised; nor much changed in the day to day life."

Now it was her turn to sigh. How could she make him understand their position? It wasn't that anyone could sit by idley, or would spend time debating the future of Lauryl when they could be doing something; but there was only so much they could do.

"These problems have existed since Mystique drove the Herald workers out; all I have been doing is trying to fix the mess which Lord Kaldres has left you and me in. I have been doing it without your contribution mainly because I didn't even know you were here, child.

There are solutions forth coming Mr. Andreas, but coming in here and prempteroily ordering the people who have been running Frigid River on your behalf is no way to enlist help.

I don't suppose you've even noticed the fish problem we've been having, since the waste of this town has not been adequately disposed of. Or that the waste is a product of closed trade routes. And that without Pirvan's wealth, the city can't sustain this growth on its own income, even if they wanted to."

She rubbed her tired eyes with an elegant finger. Unwilling to say any more, unwilling to rant about the issues she had slowly been cataloguing in her brain over the past 2 months. And before that.

"I think your solutions lie with the Mavarius regiment, if you can find anything to do other than wait for Mystique or the forces of the Empress to arrive. You may have to promote someone to lead them again, of course, but in terms of defenses then you will probably be able to do better than us."

She made a face. An idea had occured to her which did not appeal. His starvation tactic was not appealing, and neither was this.

"Frigid River could always do something to the province's water supply, but that might have the same effect as starving Mystique - and it isn't like we can block food supplies from Mystique completely."

[Andrea Marsilia]

Th