Space Oddity

[Bjorn]

Bjorn rolls his eyes.  "Hey, Nathan," he says loudly.  "I think I forgot my other spear in the throne room."  He hefts the one by his side for emphasis.  "Would you mind going to get it for me?  Maybe Catherine would be kind enough to show you the way."

[Brian]

Westley answers, after Bjorn speaks, and says, "I was assigned to lead the expedition almost ... two years before the Starflare completed construction.  I haven't thought about it, but I suppose it's been nearly five years now -- though, only three years and three months were spent aboard the ship.  It ventured into the Shroud immediately after launch, as the maiden voyage.  The test of the King's Spark, and a successful one, I suspect."  Westley looks like he could go on, but then catches himself, frowning.  "I should wait on recounting all of this, though; the King will undoubtedly wish to hear it himself."

"Undoubtedly," Holmes agrees, though he's currently watching Nathan speculatively.  "In other news, Tom, your friend Seven should be brought in shortly to join us for dinner."

[Carthrat]

"He will? How's he been holding up?" asks Tom, sounding surprised. "I worry for him."

[Rezantis]

"And that," supplies Nathan once he can get a word in, "is possibly the worst excuse you've ever made, Bjorn, but nonetheless I suppose it would be impolite to make you fetch it yourself."

"If you would, Catherine?" he says, extending a hand to his apparent fiancee.

[Dracos]

Recognizing it might be worthwhile to play ignorant rather than put it together.  "Pardon me, but what is the King's Spark?"

[Brian]

Catherine shakes her head at this, still blinking, and follows Nathan out into the hall once he's taken her arm.

Once she's gone, the door stays open just long enough for Seven to come through the doorway, looking curiously after Nathan before he steps inside.  He's dressed identically to Tom, and looks equally uncomfortable in his hastily-assembled (but decent looking) suit.

"Hello," he mumbles, taking a seat and behind introduced before Holmes replies.

"The Spark," Holmes begins, glancing at Phil, and then again at Quincy, "is the birthright of the kings of Anabara, and the royal family.  I'll give you the somewhat abbreviated version of the history, but it's believed that long ago, something was done to give the power.  Some think it was the Gates, and some find this possibility ... offensive.  This is also the source of the schism that we experience with the Church.  Either we learned how to from them and split ways, or learned at least that much on our own, and they resent that."

Quincy winces at this.  Seven looks interested, and asks, "Does this mean that Anabara's own royalty went through the Gates?"

"Their ancestors," Holmes corrects.  "And that's only theorized; some disagree."

"Some," Seven says in a quiet voice that suggests he's not one of them.

"At any rate....  The specifics of the Spark are that the royal family is either more skilled Anabarists -- like Aliester, or they have the gifts of creation and repair.  Like his majesty, or Master Maus.  While royalty has seen many of the devices which we take for granted today, only his majesty has seen a way through the Shroud, around the Gates.  That, and the Starflare are his gift to us."

[Dracos]

"And so his gift was in question until Aliester's return with us.  I see, beyond that, it was an unstable time for the entire royal family, their gift given question and opportunity smiling for those with more ambition than sense," Dracos observed, putting their own hidden civil disorder on the table.  "Which means even with it, you can use every good friend you can get."

[Brian]

"You have the right of it," Holmes agrees.  "While things should be much easier to stabilize at this point, the King's position has fallen in that time."

"After all," Westley adds, nodding, "we were successful."

[Dracos]

"You were, which would possibly make those whose infractions during this time were the most outreaching desperate.  Once it is widely known that the mission was successful, any move against him would clearly be ill-advised...  but strategically, now would be the last time to make any move.  By Tim's story, it also sounds like you have enemies who would go to such reaches...  the prize would certainly be high enough...particularly if they made certain alliances.  It seems we've arrived fortuitiously...  for it is in our interest to be your friend, my liege, to trade knowledge and wisdom and to see that you safely reach your rightful place, for I think none other will be as willing to talk and see things with an innocent eye."

[Brian]

"This is the case," Holmes agrees, glancing at the empty seat the king will take when he arrives.  "While there are any number of routes we could take ... I am in some small capacity known to our enemies.  In other words, they know enough to fear anything truly incriminating ... unless they feel there is more to gain from the risk against the reward."

"That sounds the size of it," Westley says with a grimace.  "Dishonorable men are cowards in heart.  'Greed and gold lead to gloom, not to glory.'"

"Yes, well," Holmes says, smiling slightly.  "You'll be help enough reporting on the status of the mission.  For the rest of you, my friends...."  The Inspector's gaze pauses on Quincy, but then goes to Philip.  "I would request your assistance in tripping up our foes.  We can only act so overtly, but guests of the king -- ambassadors, if you will -- are given more leeway on propriety...."  He trails off and raises an eyebrow.  "If we can request such a favor, of course.  I don't see that our goals are misaligned, however."



OOC: Rez, I've got to get ahold of you for an IRC session about your trip down the hall and back before this scene can continue.  (But, this is my fault; I've been waffling on mentioning it.)

[Brian]

Meanwhile....

Brian> The scene is thus:
Brian> Catherine is holding Nathan's arm as they slowly walk down the hall.  Aside from the occasional scurrying servant, and the stationary, stiff guards, the path is deserted.  Deserted enough to allow for quiet speech, at least.
Brian> The door to the dining room lies in the past somewhere, and Nathan realizes with irritation that he's not sure of the exact path back to the throne room.  Catherine merely follows Nathan's lead.
Brian> "I should apologize," she finally says, looking downcast, and away.  "But there has been so much, since you left....  I....  I don't know where to begin."
Rez> "Well," says Nathan after a long moment, "I'm not entirely sure where to start myself.  From my end, it's a long story - and one I no longer entirely know."
Rez> "I suspected you and Timothy were still alive - actually I was fairly sure - but I've barely had time to gather my thoughts since my release was secured."
Brian> "Ah," she says, nodding slightly.  "I have heard some of it, and wished to discover more.  I...."  She stops, then, turning to face Nathan, though she's unable to meet his gaze for more than a moment.  "I have done things that I likely should not have," she says very quietly.  "I am ashamed....  I have reasons, though I cannot know if they are sufficient."
Rez> Nathan looks at Catherine, not having the same problem - though the serious expression on his face is tinged with curiousity.  "Start from when I left, then," he says, "it seems like the best place."
Brian> "First, if I may, a question?"
Rez> "Ask away."
Brian> "I know of your recent confinement, but I hadn't known any truth to the matter; I simply assumed it was enemies of our cousin seeking to do us all harm....  I thought you were held under," she falters, and winces, "false pretense.  What do you remember of your journey?  What do you remember of...."  She trails off and shivers.
Rez> "Not entirely false," Nathan says after a moment, "But Hathoway did his damndest to things worse.  I remember almost nothing . . ." he trails off apologetically, "of anything.  My journey, of before, even you."
Rez> "But . . ." he frowns, looking away, "there's a reason for that."
Brian> "She's not worth remembering," Molly mutters, currently out of sight, and only barely audible.

Rez> OOC: Is there anyone else around?
Brian> OOC: Obviously some ghosts!  But Catherine is the only living person within earshot.

Brian> Catherine does not react to the ghost-girl, but her eyes widen at what Nathan says.  "Nothing?  But...."  She swallows, and sighs.  "Oh.  Well, then.  I had hoped that things would work out sooner....  Soon enough, my intended, to spare you whatever it is that Hathoway has done.  Our cousin's summon comes at an innoportune time."
Rez> "But I will remember," Nathan continues, "it was a bargain, of sorts."
Rez> "Why inopportune?"
Brian> "Timothy and I have been venturing for some time in the world with our true names and natures hidden," she explains quietly, face flushing.  "I ... pretended to be someone else.  I don't know if you recall, but the home that Timothy and I shared was destroyed in a fire.  Did you know this?"  Now, she finally does meet Nathan's eye and hold his gaze.
Brian> For a short woman with a silly bonnet, she manages to convey a real sense of self-confidence and ability.  Mostly, she looks determined, somehow recalling Lord Kevin to mind.
Rez> "I heard," he says, meeting Catherine's gaze, "and also that you and your brother weren't to be found.  Not long after my father died."
Brian> She smiles.  "Your wits are still about you, even if your memory is gone.  It seems quite a stretch for a coincidence of such magnitude.  Regardless.  Timothy's armored suit ... you wouldn't recall it, I suppose.  He'd been working on it for years in the basement.  When the fire started, he was there, in his workshop.  I came to warn him, so we could flee, but by the time I reached his door, the flames were already behind me."  She grimaces.  "It was not simply fire.  It was an anabarist, and a skilled one, too.  I doubt that cousin Aliester could manage flame so well without assistance."
Rez> "What then?"
Brian> "He was able to use the suit to take us both clear of the fire, though we used the secret passage ... Father's wisdom saving us once again, I know.  The anabaric deflection generator burned out, so it remains hidden, still.  Timothy had planned to take work as a nameless journeyman until he could get the tools and parts he would need to rebuild the generator, and wished me to visit a friend in the country.
Brian> "I thought this a poor idea; we were both thought dead, and my aquantainces surely would be investigated.  So instead I....  I took work as a washer at the Academy for Research of Anabaric energy.  From there I was able to access the lists of all documented anabarists.
Brian> "From that I was able to determine the likely suspects ... but I suspected it was someone within the palace.  Someone of considerable skill, likely working for our cousin ... but succeptible to the glint of gold.  There were three likely men, and one possible woman.
Rez> Nathan nods, listening but not interrupting.
Brian> "So I took another job, and continued trying to trace down whoever it might have been.  I was quite close to gathering what would prove me right ... or wrong.  There is only one suspect left, and I think he is tied to Hathoway."
Brian> Then she sighs and slumps.  "But now we are both exposed, our chance ruined.  With it known that I am alive, I can't simply hide my hair and claim a different name.  I wouldn't just be a girl who happened to look like Catherine Maus.  So I have become decietful, little better than a fallen woman ... and for naught."
Brian> "Oh," Molly says from somewhere distant, sounding unwillingly sympathetic.
Rez> "When the options," Nathan says archly, "are to engage in deceit or risk another attempted murder, I think one can forgive you the deceit."
Brian> Catherine looks startled at how quickly she's forgiven.  "But....  I should have been there for you," she protests.  "Instead, I wasted time while you suffered!  While your memory was stolen!"
Rez> "What were you supposed to do?" Nathan asks in response, "You could have made yourself known, and probably gotten yourself killed.  Hathoway isn't above murder, and it's already been tried once.  If you believe you know the person who was responsible - and they're tied to Hathoway - then it wasn't a waste of time at all."
Rez> As far as anyone can tell, he intended to keep me interred until ownership of my property lapsed.  Once that failed, he sent men there to ransack it.  I had thought this was entirely in the name of something he believes I brought back through the gate, but if he was acting before that . . ."
Brian> Catherine lowers her face and dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief.  "Thank you," she says quietly, before collecting herself, reassuming the more confident outlook she'd shown before.  "But ... Hathoway's goals against us are aligned.  It seems queer that he'd devote that much energy simply to separating...."  Then she blinks, and bright spots of color appear on her cheeks.  "Ah, yes," she says, giggling in quiet embarassment.  "Well.  Obviously."
Brian> Then her eyes widen in alarm.  "But if he kept you, to separate us, he must have known I survived the fire all along!"
Rez> "I'm not certain," Nathan says, frowning, "it's possible.  Yet, I -did- bring something back through the gate, and he may have simply been after that - which he could have gotten, had he held me longer."
Brian> Catherine nods slowly, and looks prepared to say something else, but Aliester's carrying voice interrupts further conversation immediately.  "Ah, dearest cousin," he says, marching into sight along with a pair of guards (who are flanking the young king).  He smirks, nodding.  "And without a chaperone?  The public will have a revel over this detail!"
Brian> Catherine winces at that, raising her hand to her mouth.  "Oh, dear," she says, then.  Her eyes flash to Nathan's, and the unspoken message is clear: There's more to discuss about this later.
Brian> "They shant need to know of it," the king says dismissively.  "I know of no witnesses to anything untoward.  Cousin, and Doctor, are you prepared to dine?  I am ever looking forward to our own conversations."  Then he laughs, and even though he's just a kid, he looks weary and tired.  "I apologize, cousin, that I may prevent you from spending as much time with your beloved as you might wish.  But my family is precious few, these days.  I keep what I value most close."
Brian> "Now, to dinner?" Aliester asks, looking pleased.
Rez> "I would never begrudge you such, your Majesty," Nathan says, bowing expansively, "and perhaps you and the Maestro would be willing to chaperone us back to the dining hall."
Brian> The king nods.  "It is my most happy duty," he says formally, sweeping an elegant bow to Catherine.  She curtsies back, and then the group heads back to the dining hall.
Brian> "Oh," Catherine mutters, "we never did find Master Christianson's other spear, did we?"

[Brian]

Therefore....

Before any further conversation can be made, the doors to the dining room open again, the King, Nathan, Catherine, and Aliester entering.  Two guards salute, then close the doors behind themselves, presumably standing attention out front.  The king is currently holding Catherine's hand, and leads her to her seat, before taking his own, at the head of the table.

"It is good to see you here, my friends," he says with a bright smile, as Aliester takes his own seat and makes a gesture.  At his gesture, a bell sounds.  "Our dinner shall join us shortly, and I expect a few of you are rather famished."

Seven's stomach growls in response, and he coughs, bowing his head sheepishly.

The king merely smiles at that, glancing across the table as Nathan takes his seat.  "This is a joyful day.  If it weren't already a festival, we would say it should be so now!"

"Of course," Aliester agrees.  The doors open, and conversation is made impossible by a train of servants carrying trays laden with steaming and delicious-smelling foods.  In short order, the giant table is groaning under the weight of the platters on it, and the servants retire.  Interestingly, this means there are no servants whatsoever in the room.  "Now," the Maestro says, serving himself a slice of some dark roast covered in gravy, "your majesty, would the time be right to take an account of Colonel Riggins's report?"

"While it is pertinent," the king says, frowning at the vegetables Aliester serves him, "I must confess utter fascination with Master Christianson.  Good sir, might I prevail on you to regale us with a tale of your homeland?"

[Bjorn]

"Oh, there's not much to say," Bjorn replies cheerfully.  "Mostly because of a lack of knowledge on my part.  You understand, I'm not actually Bjorn Christianson.  I'm a spirit of war possessing his body at his own request, to overthrow and cast down the Church so that his people can live their own peaceful lives upon the plains."  He pauses, his head cocked contemplatively.  "They didn't explicitly ask for the whole 'casting down' thing," he adds, "but that is the sort of the thing I usually do, and it seems like a good plan for the moment.  Could I perhaps have another slice of roast, please?"

[Dracos]

A smile of amusement crossed Dracos lips at that, as he slowly dined on the excellent repast, watching over the locals for their reaction.  He considered encouraging a tale out of Bjorn of a past adventure in another world, but this thought was quickly squashed.  The good will it might encourage wasn't likely to be worth it.

[Brian]

"Yes," Aliester murmurs with a frown, as the midget is served another slice.  The roast is tender, and the gravy is pretty rich.  Unsurprisingly, most everything tastes wonderful, but then, this is a dinner with royalty.  The table is spread with many traditional-looking favorites.  Roast.  Some large bird.  Stuffing, potatoes (or something very like them; they taste a bit sweeter than a traditional potato), and so forth.  The drink of the evening is water, with an option for milk.  "I recall mention of this.  If you are not originally from Windhurst, however, does this mean you hail from the Shroud?"

Holmes nods at this question, asking, "If Master Christianson can't tell us of that, which may be understandable under the circumstances, I expect that our friends Philip and Quincy would know more."

Quincy winces and methodically begins cutting a biscuit into tiny pieces, too nervous to eat as he looks to Phil for guidance.