In this Scene, the Countess Ciara Chantris-Solaris of Cuchlia runs in to the Prince Marshall of Amber, Prince Carmichael.
This scene takes place on the Road to Amber, text based MUSH/RPG.
Carmichael is sitting in one of the corners of the cafe, beneath recent pieces of art by the local artists. One, a bright splash of expressionism, is more about form and the matching of palettes on the board than any true expression of what it might be. He's got a couple of books on culture in front of him, open and bookmarked and appears to be working notes in a notepad as he sits there. A large cup of cappuccino sits nearby.
Ciara, well, who knows why she's here, she doesn't. Maybe there's something calling her to Amber for a visit, but for now, she's hungry and as such, steps in to the Cafe hoping for a bite to eat. As a countess, she only has two armed guards with here, but they stay outside as she enters without any pomp and circumstance. No jewelry, no banners, no mention of who she is or any that. Just a small, raven black haired girl in her twenties in a nice blue and gold trimmed dress looking for food. That is, until she spots the Prince Marshall and looks hesitant to enter the building full upon seeing him.
stuff
Of note, there's a walking cane leaning up beside the wall near the man. It's plain wood, with a knobbly top, the classic 'old hermit man' kind of cane that doubles as a head-bonking club for some. He's sitting a little stiffly also, right leg extended out in an unnaturally stiff manner. He glances up at the chime of the door and the call from Marty, searching out the figure at whom he gazes with a flutter of blinks, for a couple of seconds. Polite though, he inclines his head. "Your Excellency, lady Ciara."
Ciara forms a smile on her lips and curtsies, "Your Highness" she says softly. She does remain though, in her bowed stance with her eyes to floor as she waits with all politeness for the prince to tell her to recover.
Carmichael gestures with a palm, a sweeping hand toward Marty that is a tacit invite to get on with things. It's accompanied by a slight nod of the head also, the gesture translating to taking up his cup for a sip with it, getting a foam mustache for a moment, before it's lightly licked off. "The panini here are quite good, if you like sandwiches..." he offers.
Ciara looks confused, and then stands upright before making her way over to where Carmichael is sitting. "I am afraid I do not even know what that is Your Highness.." she replies in regards to the panini. "Well, outside a sandwich, but I've never had one." She takes a few more strides forward and looks for a place to sit near the Prince. "Though, I am hungry, and I do suppose I could attempt something new.."
"Aah, it's a type of bread roll that was perfected by the mons - they make them like miniature loaves of bread -- crusty but oh-so-slightly sourdough like." Carmichael offers that, "I'd recommend toasted," a faint smile finds his face, though he shuffles to get his leg comfortable again, no pain registers on his face. "Congratulations on your elevation and command, lady of Cuchlia."
"Oh? Well, it does sound like a nice thing to have to eat. Do they come with anything else?" she asks before looking down, "May I sit with you?" is also asked before she bows lightly. "Your Highness is most kind in recognizing me, thank you." she adds. "It is something entirely new to me, being responsible for so many lives. I only hope I can do right by my people and give them all better lives."
Carmichael takes a glance at the menu, mentally translating the mons language, he indicates with a finger. "There's cheese, formaggio... that is... ham - prosciutto... and chicken - con pollo..." a pause "...usually with an aioli, that is a kind of herbed buttery oil. Montevalno's all about complimentary palate and a kind of rustic simplicity born out of artform." He expresses that with a call for a ciabatta himself, ordering the chicken. Settling back with his coffee he nods lightly. "It takes quite some time to get your feet doesn't it? And a good deal of realizing you're not living for yourself any more. There ought to be handbooks, they'd make a fortune with them."
Ciara remains standing with her hands clasped in front of her stomach. She listens and watches and then, just remains standing there. She nods a few times, "I've never lived for myself your highness. I've always done what I can to live for others, at least, as far as I can remember. Though, a handbook would be nice."
Carmichael gestures thereafter to a seat at the table. There's not much room, the cafe is one that has a lot of small tables designed to create a closer environment, but certainly there's enough room for plates and coffee cups. "Quite," he thinks a moment, a faint frown creasing his brow. "I think I meant the level of devotion. It's something I relate to, in that I used to do much as you did before, fighting for a village or a small group of people, one problem at a time... the scale escalates and the little details can get lost in a bigger picture."
Ciara takes the gesture as the permission she was looking for, and with that, moves to take a seat. "I, see the point your highness makes. There are, as you say, a great deal many more people in Cuchlia. I have done all I can to see to it they are protected. The military, the economy, diplomacy and trade. There are, as you said, so many little things to fret over daily. So many nights I lay awake wondering if I had done all I could the day before for each and every person that calls Cuchlia home."
Carmichael nods, making room at the table by moving the books aside, his sandwich served lightly toasted and smelling of provincial herbs, chicken and a splash of garlic, cut neatly in half. "You have made progress, albeit?" he asks, casually and conversationally.
Ciara chooses not to order now, and simply sits as they talk. She nods to his question, "I've made what I hope is a lot of progress. We focused firstly on food and water seeking out new wells and farms. That's made progress. I focused on the economy and local trade and diplomacy next. That, is taking much more work to get better, as I've lowered taxes overall.." she pauses a moment, "Forgive me your highness, I've been prattling on about affairs of my lands and you no doubt, have to deal with a far great amount of it than I."
"Truthfully, it's rather refreshing," Carmichael replies to this, "...there's nothing to forgive. I admire that you've tackled it so admirably." There's another shift, this time to adjust his leg to take the weight off of it, carefully crossing it with a bit of awkwardness of the other leg, to prop it without pressure. Almost to cover this, he gestures at the books. "I've been observing cultural norms of late, to attempt to comprehend some of the more bizarre and hard-to-understand mores of distant shadow. The alternative is to hire a whole slew of diplomats and translators that specialize, but I still have to walk the walk at least a little in my dealings. It sometimes feels like fighting the sea with a sieve, truth be told. I have to get back out to the black of beyond soon, to relieve and review troops in a besieged shadow of importance. It can't be allowed to collapse, else it'll take every shadow nearby it down with it in a cascade failure of stability. We'll end up with a black hole of shadowmatter that threatens to get to the point where you can't stop the domino effect. Frankly, I have no idea if we'll succeed, but... reinforcing stability of form is vital."
Ciara smiles warmly, and nods. "Your highness is most kind.." is her reply as she also re situates herself on the chair. Though, the following explanation of things seems to pass straightwise over her head. "Forgive me again your highness, but you have me at a disadvantage. All of that is, well, I must confess I truly am at a loss as to understanding what all that means..."
Carmichael looks at her critically at this for a moment, then takes out his notepad again, a pen with it and starts to doodle on it, where she can see. What he draws is balloons. But in them, he puts little impressions of cities, farmland, people as little stick figures. It's a good sketch but looks like an impressionist's view of a lot of cultures and such, if one looks at it aesthetically. "Imagine that these are all shadows..." he indicates the balloons. "Like Lyonesse, like Kitezh, like Boobanoog, which is a very strange place close to Sukho. They build floating cities, it's quite beautiful really, but odd." He then draws little arrows piercing the balloons on different spots, in the great balloon conglomerate. "What happens if you pierce a baloon too many times?"
Ciara looks down, and watches intently. She looks up after all of it and with the question asked she replies, "Your Highness, any balloon I have ever seen pierced.." pause "blew apart and did not survive the first puncture, let alone the rest.." she adds in a plain matter of fact way. "Though, all of those shadows sound lovely.."
Carmichael nods to her, with a slight smile that fades away a moment later. "All shadows are resilient to a few pierces. But there's a critical mass point, where it's been pierced too much - this can be by outside interference, too much trade on an unstable avenue of passage... several other factors also. A balloon contains nothing but air... but these balloons?" He indicates the cities, people, land, with the end of the pen. "What do you suppose happens when the one in the middle goes boom?"
You have new +mail from Vael.
Ciara looks down, and then back up slowly to Carmichael. "Oh gods..." she replies plainly, "it would cause devastation and destruction across multiple shadows if not cause the destruction of entire worlds?" she adds as a statement and question.
Carmichael nods to her. "And when these go..." he indicates the ones around them, then out and out and out and out, to the next and the next balloon. "That's what I mean about a cascade domino effect. When one topples, depending on where it is... the others around it get all the explosion damage and go boom too, one after another." He exhales. "Thus, trying very hard to make sure that doesn't happen right now. We don't want this..." he indicates the page "...to happen. It's painful too, given that the place where the danger lies, is devastated. I can't help them all individually at the moment, I can only help them overall, to stop.... this." He indicates the page again.
Ciara exhales deeply as she watches all this and listens intently. She leans back some what and seems lost in thought for some time. She soon looks back to the prince, "Your highness, I must beg forgiveness, but if the people do not know that you are doing these things? It doesn't matter that your're doing them, the people still see nothing, know nothing, and see the princes of amber as nobles with a desire to fight over the throne and bicker with one another."
"Again, I beg your forgives for my rudeness, but my only concerns are the lives of the people in Lyoneese" she adds pausing a moment. "But, if I may? You have shown me what truly rests on your shoulders, and in this night have shown me that my, feelings, towards the Princes, may be misplaced entirely. I see you trying to save not only one world, but all of them and it is such a grand and noble thing as to be overwhelming. I must admit that you, are a far greater man than I gave you credit for."
Carmichael looks actually taken aback by this, his lips parting a moment as if to speak, then closing once again into a relaxed aspect, bowing his head to her solemnly. "It is not that I don't care. It never is," he says that very softly. "But rather, that the duties we have escalate in magnitude. The responsibility -you- carry, is no less important than mine. You cannot do all that I can do, but it is -no less- important. All that you are, all that you do, must mean as much to you as your heart can carry with it; but do not mistake that we do not care. We do. Well, I do. Avalon meant a great deal to my father, but we couldn't save it... saving Lyonesse requires that we know -what- must be saved. The cataclysms she faces, we are ill placed to stop, without the knowledge that -you- and your people must ultimately provide to us."
"We can't provide it your highness..." she replies plainly. "This is the problem we face.." she adds, exhaling deeply. "I know now that /you/ care, perhaps more than the rest of the Princes do, and I know that you strive to do things that rest on a far greater scale. You are trying to save entire worlds, while, as you said, my heart can only carry with it the lives of my people." She re situates herself again, "But this is the ultimate issue of understanding. My cook, she doesn't care that another world is at risk. She cares that her child is sick, and currently bed ridden and dying before reaching age twelve. My guard captain? His wife was traveling when the black bitch's black knights attacked her caravan. She was taken from him and it torments him daily."
"I give of myself to my people, just as you do yours, but there is this ladder of understanding. The difference I think, is that I trust in my people. Yes, my cooks daughter is dying, and I have given of my personal physician without charge, and yes, I have paid for my guard captains wife's burial expenses. Though, with all of that? They still know, they understand, that there are hundreds, if not thousands of people around what remains of our broken world who are dying, who have no food, whose lives I strive daily to save. If only you would trust in your own people, in us, and show us the real weight that rests on your shoulders, you might incite the people to so much more greatness. You would incite them to stand against the shadow, that they might join you in the sun..."
Carmichael exhales long and hard, pressing his lips together firmly. He listened though, throughout that impassioned speech. It looks for all the world like he's strategizing behind his eyes, but his face betrays very little otherwise. Eventually, after perhaps a minute of silent thinking, he takes up the note pad once again. "From what I've studied of Lyonesse, which is less than I could, but as you have gleaned a little of, I'm stretched thin in many aspects." He lifts a finger in caution, but accepts that there's a flaw in his learning there nevertheless "... the land and the people are closely tied together. The blood of Lyonesse and the land of Lyonesse are interlinked in legend, prophecy, piety, duty, responsibility and prowess. The orders of knighthood are very black and white, the power that they had overall, was magnificent. Something happened though, that sank the land -- the cataclysm is partly, I believe, tied to the fall of Avalon, but also to something inherent /in/ the people and the land that failed. The doom of the Fisher King, so to speak." He presses his lips together. "Finding the soul of your land and being that strength is vital to raising it from the water, but purity of spirit, desire and prosperity is tied to the blood of your kings and nobility. When they prosper, the land also prospers. The seas are haunted are they not? And what survives of Lyonesse sinking, was the highlands?"
Ciara nods to everything, "Yes. The seas themselves are overran with the dead arisen, and with great darkness. I've seen it first hand.." she adds. "Also, true, the Highlands of Lyoneese are all that is left of the land and many believe that any true heir to the great throne would be able to bring all of our great land back above the waves."
Carmichael nods slowly at this, thinking more for a few moments. "How would one know the true king... or queen's return? Are there tasks? Tests?" he asks.
"From what I understand, there are rumors that the land itself would know should one sit upon the once great throne of the High King. I hear that the Knights of the Graal also hold relics that are rumored to have saved the highlands and could save the rest of our land. I've done a lot of study myself, but I know that each kingdom has something that must be done to see it rise above the waves again. My own county was once part of a greater kingdom. The great king brian once ruled over Lathatch. If I could find something of his beneath the waves, I could lay claim to the throne and perhaps see the land rise again. There are still a lot of rumors and unknowns here."
Carmichael exhales, pressing his lips. Again, there's the difficult look of strategy and searching knowledge in his eyes that shows very little elsewhere. "I'm going to suggest then, that if you seek that which lies beneath the waves you use your chantris connections and your lyonesse blood to look through the history of -your- kingdom, for where to begin looking. After that though, you need to have the way to explore meaningfully in sunken ruins. That means you may require Rebma's help and in that, I cannot help you officially speaking. I would -recommend- speaking to Lady Vialle, wife of Random, about permission to look at the records held in the undersea and perhaps if anything that was lost has washed up in the depths. That is part of Rebma's duty you see, that which was lost, from all over the place, ends up if it was significant enough, finding its way into the depths of the abyss there. They recover a great deal and keep a check on the /living/ history of the multiverse as best that they might. My aunt, Llewella may also be able to help you there." He sips his coffee, looking her square in the eye. "The land itself, you've got your own responsibilities there. You're going to need the assistance though, of house Mandrake and house Feldane -- I can assign my knight to at least assess your situation, agriculturally and offer what help she might there."
Letting that sit, he notes "I can also ask of my mandrake knight to assist, but he is not a rancher, he's a knight in profession as well as deed. If you can show him your weak points, your land's disposition, he may be able to work with you specifically on shoring up your defenses and will be able to provide -me- with a more accurate list of your requirements."
"My chantris connections are severed, at my own hand.." she replies plainly. "I had a rather hard falling out with Talia and Ailith of Chantris. I'm not sure those bridges exist to repair, let alone travese.." she adds exhaling deeply. "As to the rest? I shall seek out the Lady Vialle, as well as your Aunt as your highness suggests most kindly. Should your highness deem it, I would be most greatfull of your knight mandrake's assitance and guidance in shoring up our defenses. I must admit that I am at a great disadvantage here your highness, and am a loss for words in your offer.."
Carmichael frowns at what he hears about the falling out and it brings about a blink, his hand raising to forestall a moment, indicating her with the fingerspread. "What happened, might I ask, that created such a falling out? Did you abuse a book perhaps?" the joke falls a bit flat, but perhaps he really thinks that would be a travesty to a Chantris. "Talia is a stickler for propriety and feminine power and can be very difficult to deal with but Ailith is usually quite level headed, if cool and blunt."
Ciara nods, and raises a hand to her mouth to stiffle a very obvious yawn. One that speaks volumes to her falling asleep almost where she stands. "Forgive me your highness, but I would continue this conversation another time? I find myself having a great deal of difficulty staying awake at the moment. If you will excuse me?" she asks with a smile on her face. "I will endevour to take all of your advice on and put it to use."
Carmichael inclines his head. "Of course. You must have travelled recently and saught only refreshment," he bundles his ciabatta though and hands it to her in a napkin. "It would be bad if you did not get anything out of this before your fatigue struck. I will think on your situation further and send for you if I come up with a strategy. Be well, your Excellency."
Ciara smiles warmly as she takes the Ciabata as it's offered, bowing deeply, "You are so very kind Your Highness. I will look forward to our next meeting and I will await your summons with bated breath. Peace be with you your Highness.." she adds as she stands upright from the bow and heads out to her guards.
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