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Ultraviolet Amber — Helena's Log


Helena and Benedict

© 2007 Simone Cooper (Helena) and Dave Vandenabeele (GM and all other characters)

GM: So... lantern in hand, outside Benedict's office. Dressed...?

Helena: Formal uniform (retired) as before. I really am just trying again. Did the secretary say if I could expect the meeting to be private?

GM: How did you ask?

Helena: So... I requested the meeting; now I'm here I ask of the secretary if he/she knows if the meeting will be private.

GM: "I was not informed of any other attendees, Ambassador."

Helena: I give a short bow. "Thank you." And I head to where I am intended to wait.

GM: As you move to sit, the seneschal goes to the office door and opens it. Benedict waves you in from his seat, only standing as you enter.

Helena: I nod thanks to the seneschal, and head in.

Benedict "Ambassador. Welcome."

Helena: I bow formally. "Thank you for seeing me, Lord General."

Benedict: He nods in reply, respectfully. "No trouble. Our earlier haste disrupted our last meeting, so this seemed prudent." (a kind assessment of what happened before, perhaps)

Helena: "Yes. I had wished to present you with this gift from my garden at home, in thanks for your intervention and help with the embassy. You were very kind." I set the lamp forward towards him on the desk, if there is a clear spot.

GM: There is a lantern-sized clear spot, much like before.

Helena: "Now seems a better time."

Benedict: "Perhaps so." He sets a hand atop the lantern for a moment.

GM: "A trophy of a prior success? Sentimental value, I presume." The crease of a smile begins on his face, but somehow fails to fully form (as usual, it seems).

Helena: I consider his description, hesitating. "A... recognition of effort and skill, rather than a trophy, Sir. Even then it was not thought that we had won.
"But, yes, sentimental. The artist is well known among the houses."

Benedict: Glossing over the first, "I thought I recognized the craftsmanship." He sits, gesturing for you to do the same. Paperwork bearing the Royal Seal comes to hand, which he offers for your review.

Helena: "Kotokai, Sir." I reach forward and accept the papers from him.

Benedict: Benedict gives an almost imperceptible nod in recognition of the name, then.
The paperwork seems reasonable and thorough, and includes what Random had mentioned at last night's dinner about Trump-only for transport.

Helena: I spend a few minutes reading it in detail, then look up. "Thank you, Sir. I shall pass this to Lord Jesby directly."

Benedict: After a moment's quiet, "Are the grounds suitable for your needs?"

Helena: "Very much so. I am... we are still impressed with your generosity. I hope we have the opportunity to return the value and favor to you."

Benedict: "Would it disquiet you to learn that you already have?"

Helena: I tilt my head, questioningly.

Benedict: He seems to study your reactions, but says nothing.

Helena: "In what way, may I ask?"

Benedict: Another hard quiet, and then... "Wish your mother well when you see her next." Suddenly, you feel dismissed.

Helena: I nod though I am still confused, rise and turn to leave. After a step away from the desk, I turn back. "Lord General, I accompanied you and the others on the mission fighting for my own life and for the lives of those of Amber I have been taught to respect. If fulfilling this clear duty is the boon you feel I have done you... I... It is not of my upbringing to expect... to understand this."

Benedict: His look seems to indicate some vague confidence that things will become clear to you in time, but he says nothing more, busying himself with other apparent business of state or arms.

Helena: I bow to him - or I suppose, really to his desk - and back out.

GM: The seneschal notes your departure, eyeing you as if to ak if you have any further or future business.

Helena: I thank him, but don't know what to say about that. Suddenly I pause as I am about to pass him by. "Do you know of whom I ask a meeting with the Prince General of Arden?"

GM: "There is a Ranger Barracks within sight of the Arden Gate. That usually suffices."

Helena: "Thank you again." I take my leave.

GM: He nods.

Next?

Helena: Heh. She needs a half day to get her breath back ;-)

GM: What would she do to relax, then?

Helena: She feels so over-bold talking after he had dismissed her.

Mm, probably go and oversee some of the cleanup at the building. Also talk to Loren, pass him a copy of the King's commission to share with Lord Jesby, get his take on the document and on the party politics. I'm not sure yet if I'll tell him of the meeting with Benedict. (i.e., she works to relax.)

Loren: Loren takes the documents, gives them a cursory review and pronounces them fair on first look. Formally, but warmly, "Well done, Helena. What can I send to ease the transition?" (figures ;-))

Helena: "Brandy." I laugh. "One for me, a case for the King."

Loren: After a brief start, he laughs politely. "Remind me of the ways-key for your cellars, and I'll have some to you shortly... unless you require something new...." (Dragon Brandy is a kick in the head, so it's up to you whether it would be on hand in your reserves)

Helena: I show him, and ask after the Channicut Reserve for myself. "His Majesty thinks he wants the Dragon. I'm afraid I don't have a case in my collection.
"Oh, also, additional Amber currency. I shall have to pay the workmen very soon here, and the Princess Florimel suggested a formal opening event, which I promised for two months time."

Loren: "I'll be in touch as soon as I can set claws on a few cases." Loren summons an accountant, who reappears with sufficient coin to exchange.

Helena: I take the money and set it aside, enjoying the comfortable silence between us. "So my delayed meeting with the Lord General went... well."

Loren: Loren raises a thorny eyebrow, waiting for the rest of what you aren't saying.

Helena: I look down and back up at him. "He feels there is no debt for his assistance with the land and embassy. He gives his good wishes to Mother." I tell him in the order and context, to see if he makes anything of it.

Loren: Loren's visage darkens, his pupils narrowing to slits. A silence drags for uncomfortable seconds, and then, "I will pass on his good wishes," as if it were a Christmas card from Grandpa instead of a vanished debt to the Lord General. Even recovered, you sense some pain in your father's manner now.

Helena: I ache on his behalf, and hers. I reach a hand to him, briefly, if he allows. "Is she well? I have not seen her since dinner some months ago."
I know that in some fundamental way she is not well, and that is the fault of my conception and birth, but... she has been on many occasions happy, good, well in every other regard, and a loving if often absent mother.

Loren: Loren's hand seems to retreat of its own accord until he realizes, and then he takes your offered touch, his mind guarded now. "She is. *pause* I have not spoken of your mission to her, for fear of how her mind might react," speaking as if she and her mind were seperate beings.

Helena: "I am well, now. That risk is averted.
"Have you told her of the embassy at all?"

Loren: "Not at all. Only that you are abroad, diplomatically. She presumes that your business is in the Black Zone, and I have done nothing to dissuade her of that thought." A breath, almost ragged. "She has been... fragile of late."

Helena: "This mission, I could pass it to someone else in the House. I have full notes, briefings. I will not stay here if it will hurt her for me to do so."

Loren: After collecting himself, "It would wound her deeper to know that you remained homebound to ease her mind." His hand tightens over yours, trying to convey reassurance, despite his buried anguish.

Helena: I breathe deeply. This is a morass. Straightening, I ask, "What can I do, then, that will ease her mind in my work here?"

Loren: "When things are settled in Amber, stop by the Jesby Mission in the Zone before you come home. Bring her some of that cocklebriar root she loves so. Come back healthy and proud of all you have done, and she will ask nothing of the specifics. Small lies will not harm her, if it comes to that." His gray knuckled grip eases slightly before his 'comforting' might turn uncomfortable.

Helena: "I can do that very soon. I will."

Loren: He pats your hand, gentle now. Suddenly a duke once more, "I will see to your brandy, and contact you soon. Good fortune, my daughter."

Helena: "Father." I bow to him.

Loren: He bows in return, perhaps more deeply than would be entirely proper in public, and then awaits the connection's end.

Helena: I let the contact slide away.

Gads. I can't face Julian at this moment. I do need to commission a Trump of this place [if this game allows place trumps, if not, of a key person I will have to get recommended and sent from the House], and discuss the creation of a transport gate down by the warehouse portion.
I can make that call (to another person in House Jesby), but it is only business. Then I imagine I'll spend the rest of the day doing as hard labor as I can, cleaning, ordering supplies and furnishings, contracting with maintenance people, etc.

GM: A place Trump will take time, but Jesby has several reputable Artists. One could be made available fairly quickly, and would be done with the labor in a day or two. What section of the embassy would it target? Would she commission more than one location?

She is able to make herself quite busy, as the staff is nonexistant at this end, at least thus far. Hours pass, near dark... I dare say she may still be troubled, as Loren is very rarely in the state she saw today.

Simone: Yes, it is why she is burying herself in details she could readily have taken care of by others if she waited.

Helena: I'll have a Trump made of the room by the entry - a copy for myself and a copy held by Loren for the use of the House - and one of my own room that I am creating from a pair of offices at the end of the upstairs hall. The gate will have to be made in the warehouse loading area, but that can wait several weeks at least.

GM: She notes that the gate has to be smaller than (insert modest castle-archway size) to conform with the Crown orders. The artist, one Bekl Jesby, comes through by the end of the night to commence your first commission, unless you put him off.

Helena: If I have at least one of the guest quarters ready, I will let him through; otherwise I will delay him until that is sorted out.

GM: The uppermost rooms are fairly serviceable, and with your cleaning frenzy, one could certainly be ready now.

Helena: That's fine. I bring him through, following whatever protocol is demanded by the commission. I arrange that we have dinner served, and breakfast.

GM: He nods, seeming too fascinated with the environs to be concerned with any breaches in protocol.

Helena: When I'm able to get his attention, I brief him and let him get to work.

GM: He sets up an arcane easel in view of the entryway and commences, apparently quite pleased and willing to ignore anything else you do that doesn't invade his 'frame'.

Helena: It occurs to me I need to hire some security and a secretary, but obviously I can't make a start on that at this late hour. Having pointed out Bekl's rooms and the facilities, I eventually excuse myself, set up a palette with some blankets near the front door if anyone should come knocking, lock up and try to get some sleep.

GM: You have some formless nightmares that night, but your memory refuses to bring them back to mind. You wake up in demon form, covered in sweat.

Helena: Eesh. That doesn't happen often.

I wrap a sheet around myself so I can head upstairs and change. I look in on Bekl, wake him if he's not up, and instruct him to take in the breakfast should it arrive while I am bathing. I do so quickly, returning to human form and dressing formally again.

GM: He has worked through the night, and hardly grunts at your offer of breakfast... but he probably heard your instruction.

Helena: I make that assumption.

GM: An odd chill persists as you bathe.

Helena: I chase it a little, trying to determine if it is in my mind from the dreams, or some other unease. But I still finish, dress, and tidy a little more, waiting for the breakfast.

GM: The chill seems to stem from the dreams, and you are able to chase it far enough to sense that it reminds you of being pinned to the cold, wet ground.

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