093: Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning

[Sierra]

<El-Cideon> After a restful night back home, in their own beds, after too long away (and especially too long in Hell), the party regroups in the morning to pay a call on the undead painter Allister Schaerach. The morning finds him in a contemplative mood, staring off into the dimly-light depths of his apartment, not actively working.
<Julia> "Good morning, Allister. Searching for inspiration?" Julia asks hopefully after greeting him.
* Franceska is curious herself, although she's partially hiding behind Rosemund during the visit.
<El-Cideon> "Mm?" he starts, after jolting from a mild trance. "Feeling my age," he says drily (though he could hardly speak any other way). He clears his throat, which is not the most pleasant-sounding overture for a zombie. "What I can do for you this morning?"
<Julia> "We have a royal subject for you, if you're in need of one," Julia tells him with a wide smile.
<El-Cideon> "No doubt a royal subject could call upon any number of ambitious artists who eagerly seek noble patronage," Allister says. "Are you sure that they would desire my services?"
<Franceska> "It would be somewhat awkward to seek the services of another artist, in her case."
<Steph> "Besides, most artists don't really capture their subjects *nearly* so well!"
<Julia> "Well, she does share your state of corporeal being," Julia admits.
<El-Cideon> "Ah," he nods with some dawning understanding. "Perhaps I could be of use, then." He turns to rifle through a collection of canvases and hauls out one covered. "How well-preserved is the subject?" he asks all the while. "Are any signs of decay of concern?"
<Franceska> "No. She is... very perfectly preserved."
<Steph> "She has a split personality, and her better half is as pure as her worse half is a mass-murdering psychopath."
<Franceska> "That would just make for an interesting painting, wouldn't it?"
<Julia> "She's a vampire," Julia says bluntly.
<El-Cideon> "Are you sure that she is keen to sit for one?" he asks dubiously as he goes about unveiling the painting.
<Franceska> "She has a lot of free time, and it must get pretty boring."
<Julia> "And she's very interested in having her majesty put on canvas. Actually I think the violent side is even more interested than the peaceful side."
<El-Cideon> "We must keep ourselves busy," he acknowledges. "I suppose you may introduce us so that I may see what I can see," he adds before unveiling his latest work. It's a portrait of Franceska: captured nude as usual, she rises from a roaring inferno mostly suggested off-canvas by stray tongues of flame and a low heat haze at the bottom border of the painting. A collection of chains, jagged and binding, ensnares her limbs and seeks to draw her back down into the eternal conflagration, but one can tell at a glance that they are being overpowered from sheer force of will--the black metal corrodes, cracks and shatters as she propels herself forcefully upward towards some better-chosen future. The light towards which she turns her face, eyes closed with a look of calm determination, does not necessarily speak of righteousness, salvation or holy favor, merely...possibilities. "Queen of Liberation," Allister names it.
<Julia> "Oh, you look very inspiring, Franceska," Julia compliments.
<Franceska> "I do make it a point of taking down slavers," Franceska muses.
<Steph> Stephanie whistles. "It even makes you look good. But hey, where're the piles of dead elves?"
<Franceska> "Burning in the inferno like they deserve, of course."
<El-Cideon> Allister glances curiously at his own work, then back at Stephanie. "So you would suggest that I have omitted some essential characteristic?"
<Julia> "She is very fervent about the elf issue," Julia nods seriously.
<Franceska> "No, you've really outdone yourself," Franceska says, shaking her head. "I wouldn't want to see elves share a painting with me, and you understood that!"
<Steph> "Well..." Steph frowns. "She hasn't actually killed many," she confides. "It's all in her head."
<El-Cideon> Allister frowns. "I could revise it if necessary?" He seems relieved at Franceska's comment, though.
<Steph> "You know, we should put them all together, do a little exhibition! These arts really make us look like masters of the multiverse," Stephanie remarks.
<Franceska> "I think not. I'm grateful for the painting, and really I was starting to feel the odd person out, but it will be hanging in my bedroom and not somewhere out in the open."
<El-Cideon> "Er, it is very impressive work, but, Stephanie, I consider it a private thing for probably the same reasons that Franceska does," Rosemund adds.
* Franceska smiles at Rosemund!
<El-Cideon> Allister is soon escorted back to Julia's tower, painting supplies in tow, to visit with the queen. Auranelle is in quiet meditation in her chamber, happily secluded from all those who her other self might wish to wound for the sheer joy of it.
<Julia> "Your Majesty?" Julia asks from the door of the chamber, "Your other self expressed interest in having a portrait made, and we've enlisted the service of a painter with previous experience painting royals. Would you like to meet him?"
<El-Cideon> Auranelle looks up. "I am sure that the palace retains many portraits," she says with a trace of weariness. "Are you certain that we require more?"
<Julia> "You won't need to sit for it or anything," Julia says, since she assumes sitting for hours while being painted must have been a chore. "Allister is very skilled at bringing out a person's true nature from just a look."
<El-Cideon> "I suppose you could show him in," she admits. "I imagine there is little harm that it could do." Allister himself bows with a deep and instinctive respect in the presence of a monarch. "Your Majesty," he says graciously. After a moment's appraisal, he concludes, "I am sure that it will be an honor to work with you."
<El-Cideon> "Do you need to meet *her* too?" Auranelle asks. "After all, it was her request. It must be morning. She won't have her turn to stir up trouble until nightfall."
<El-Cideon> "I suppose that I must, for the sake of accuracy, be familiar with all the subject's various aspects," Allister admits. "I could get to work tomorrow morning."
<Julia> "Well, I was thinking if you drafted your letter today, we could have it sent tonight, giving time for Allister to meet your other half, with the proposed meeting tomorrow morning?" Julia suggests, looking at her friends to see if that works.
<Franceska> "I could teleport us over, so long as it's somewhere we've visited before," Franceska asserts. "So we are quite flexible where it concerns time."
<El-Cideon> Auranelle nods, retrieves an envelope from a shelf, takes a moment to scan through the contents and add the details of the desired time, then seals it with wax and hands it over.
<Julia> "Oh, thank you your Majesty," Julia says as she takes it, not having expected it to be ready. "I'll go downstairs and... hmm, I suppose it would have most impact if you came and handed the letter over to our messenger personally?" she supposes. "That way if asked it can give a faithful description to the wizard, set him less at ease?"
<El-Cideon> "Of course," Auranelle agrees, following Julia.
<Julia> Leading the Queen downstairs to one of her summoning chambers, Julia makes sure to clear out all of her undead so as not to give a bad impression to their holy messenger. Charging the summoning diagram up with a magic circle spell, she begins the process of casting planar binding, attempting to bring forth a trumpet archon to her service...
<Julia> OOC: DC 23 will, http://www.d20srd.org/srd/monsters/archon.htm#trumpetArchon
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+11
<Rei-chan> 6,0El-Cideon rolled :6,0 1d20+11 --> 6,0[ 1d20=14 ]4,0{25}
<El-Cideon> The heavens stubbornly refuse Julia's call for assistance...
<Julia> "Hmm, I'm not as good at conjuration as I am at necromancy. Perhaps that was too ambitious?" Julia wonders. "I'll try again for luck and if that fails we'll go for something less exalted." And so she spends a further ten minutes trying again...
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+11 again!
<Rei-chan> 6,0El-Cideon rolled :6,0 1d20+11 1,0again! --> 6,0[ 1d20=20 ]4,0{31}
<El-Cideon> But again the magic circle remains pointedly empty.
<Julia> "Alright, I can take a hint. Also I don't have that many spells to throw around. How about a hound archon?" Julia lowers her expectations and tries once more!
<Julia> OOC: DC 23 will http://www.d20srd.org/srd/monsters/archon.htm#houndArchon
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+6
<Rei-chan> 6,0El-Cideon rolled :6,0 1d20+6 --> 6,0[ 1d20=11 ]4,0{17}
<El-Cideon> This time, a doglike humanoid descends from the heavens to populate the magic circle! It takes a moment to look around and observe its surroundings and summoner before uttering a polite greeting in Common to Julia.
<Julia> Julia smiles back. "I'm sorry if I've pulled you away from any important business of your own, but I require the services of a messenger to deliver a letter where I cannot go myself. In exchange I am willing to barter this harrow rod," she takes out the rod from her haversack, since she never remembers to use it when it would be useful. "It sprays somewhat potent acid three times a day, I'm
<Julia> sure a warrior like yourself can find some use for it, or trade it for something else you like."
<El-Cideon> "The object should be of use," the archon concedes, "if not to myself then to other worthy parties. The task is a simple one?" It sounds agreeable to this proposal.
<Julia> "Yes, all that is required is to deliver her Majesty's letter to Archmage Calloran of Solanth, advisor to the king," she gestures to Auranelle. "You are under no further obligation to me and may consider our business concluded as soon as you have seen him accept the letter. Payment will be provided in advance."
<El-Cideon> "This is acceptable," the archon rumbles, accepting letter and rod both assuming no further negotiations are required; it pauses a moment to see if any further instruction is forthcoming and, if not, departs instantly on its assigned task.
<Julia> Julia has nothing more to add. "That went well," she says once he's gone. Trumpet would've had more impact, though.
<Franceska> "So it did. Do you want to place your friends there ahead of time?"
<Julia> "I suppose so, there might be too many to teleport at once otherwise?"
<El-Cideon> Allister has his meeting with Her Vampiric Majesty, who admits her pleasure at being properly captured for posterity as well as her disappointment at not directly being involved in tomorrow's presumed hostilities, and the next morning the group sets out to take up position before the Archmage's group can arrive. The site selected is an abandoned garrison, lying forlorn along a disused road leading to a small mining town razed during the war and never rebuilt. The small fort has an open courtyard beyond a yawning gate rendered nonfunctional by rust, a watchtower with most of the top roof caved in; piles of debris suggest some magical altercation during the war, and it's obvious various criminals and transients have made use of the barracks over the years.
<El-Cideon> It's a crisp, clear morning, somewhat on the brisk side for spring.
<Steph> Stephanie loiters in the watchtower, peering out the window. Of course, she doesn't have a bow, because she, Stephanie, is the arrow! Her weapons have been put aside; unless it's the archmage himself, she doesn't plan on murdering her way through her opponents today.
<Julia> Julia has placed her trio of enormous undead behemoths at various places around the garrison, with Bedford directly behind the curtain wall at the rear while Scarlet and Battersby have both been squeezed into an old barracks with one wall missing. Undead in place she just waits alongside Queen Auranelle for whatever may come.
* Franceska stays by Rosemund's side, as she often does. Other than the long-term protective spells she's grown accustomed to precasting, she doesn't need any special preparations of her own. With Julia's support, it shouldn't be necessary to do more than improvise as needed.
<Julia> roll 1d10+10 false life why not
<Rei-chan> 6,0Julia rolled :6,0 1d10+10 1,0false life why not --> 6,0[ 1d10=9 ]4,0{19}
<Franceska> OOC: superior resistance, barkskin, greater magic fang
<Steph> OOC: Can I get a barksking and a magic fang?
<Franceska> OOC: I have a barkskin charge free, you can have it
<El-Cideon> Auranelle sits on a broken column direct across from the main gate; though immured now against fatigue, she nonetheless contrives to look very tired as she waits. Rosemund stands protectively by her side with, presumably, Franceska nearby also. A couple hours shy of noon, Stephanie can see an armed band marching up the road toward the tower: a middle-aged man with long, graying hair is at its center, flanked by a knight in full plate and a young blonde woman in armor emblazoned with the sunburst of Pelor; a squadron of eight men in light mail troop along behind them.
<Julia> Julia stands up straighter, ready to receive their guests. Or lay out some horrible necromantic fury if said guests try to act as they did against Leah.
<Franceska> The delegation approaching would be a great time to temporarily increase her magical power and Franceska does so. "Just remember," she tells Rosemund quietly, patting her shoulder, "don't let them bait you. They'll pay for what they did."
<El-Cideon> The group enters through the main gate; the soldiers spread out to ward either side of the central group from approach from either side, the two nearest the Archmage holding halberds and the rest carrying crossbows. Calloran is a tired-looking, bespectacled man in fine robes that suggest no more luxury or indolence than is absolutely required to command the necessary respect for his position. His group halts some thirty feet from the Queen, who stands to greet them. "It's a commendable likeness, I'll grant you," is the first thing Calloran says.
<Franceska> "Oh, you thought more than that," Franceska muses. "Is that not why you sent out men to kill her?"
<El-Cideon> "'Kill' is not an apt choice of words for a creature that no longer lives," Calloran points out tartly.
<Franceska> "I think it's quite apt, when it refers to Azaleah Harbinger."
<Julia> That stings Julia a little bit, but she puts a brave face on!
<El-Cideon> "That was unfortunate," he answers to Franceska. "But she was not discreet in her inquiries and she could not see the necessity of keeping Her Majesty's unnatural transformation from the public. Had she gone free, she would have caused a panic."
<Franceska> "I really thought you might have denied that," Franceska notes. "But since you are in such a sharing mood, perhaps we could talk about your own not-inconsiderable contribution to Her Majesty's transformation?"
<Steph> "In other words, you murdered her to keep your own bugs under the bed," remarks Stephanie, peering down at him.
<El-Cideon> "Had we any notion that Her Majesty persisted in existing in this execrable fashion, we would have tried to deal with her years ago," Calloran points out. "We did not. Miss Harbinger's inquiries brought this fact to our attention. I had thought Her Majesty long dead--which you must agree is in fact a technical truth that I observe she doesn't hasten to deny."
<Julia> She is being pretty quiet. Julia looks at the Queen to see how she's handling this.
<El-Cideon> "Whether I live or die is no longer a question that should shake nations, I think," the Queen says wearily. "Hardly any secret I should think you just in killing innocents to protect, at least."
<El-Cideon> "I'd contest this morsel of naivete," Calloran counters. "News of your survival raises unprecedented questions of royal succession and reopens wounds barely healed over twenty years. Better the kingdom should forget as best it can. If the loss of one woman, however well-intentioned, should protect the current peace, I call it a regrettable necessity."
<Franceska> "And why stop there?" Franceska smoothly continues, counting them. "Add four more to it, and it's still a pretty good deal." She moves to count the soldiers, then. "Maybe more than four, but a great bargain nonetheless."
<El-Cideon> "She was only trying to help us!" Rosemund counters. "She did not even know the entire story! You did not have to kill her!"
<El-Cideon> Calloran fixes a penetrating look on Rosemund in particular, and his voice is rank with irritation as he continues. "Ah, that voice. The one who would presume to lecture me on morality from across the planes? I should think that a life of perpetual captivity would hardly be preferable to death for most. Is there really such difference in these two fates?" To Franceska, he answers: "Would you contest that our own personal losses could ever possibly outweigh the good of the kingdom itself?"
<Julia> "What good's a kingdom if its citizens have no personal stake in it?" Julia speaks up. "If we can be killed for the sin of asking questions, the kingdom must already stand on feet of clay."
<Franceska> "Oh, easily. You've never been to Hell, have you? But I just took a trip, and you wouldn't believe the ways in which people justify doing things for some nebulous benefit." She shakes her head. "That you could only perceive two options is a limitation of your own making. Had Leah truly been a threat to the realm, she could have left for another. She could also have been convinced by people
<Franceska> who actually find themselves invested in her fate and wellbeing."
<Steph> "You just chose the easy option, the murderous option, and you're pretending it was right!" Stephanie peers down at the mage. "No crime, no foul. You're justifying yourself, probably 'cos you've always done things this way, and it's too late to admit you were wrong now!"
<El-Cideon> Calloran abruptly changes tack: "Tell me what exactly you found when you finally located our wayward monarch?"
<Franceska> "Evidence implicating Regent Verlaine of conspiracy, and then, to our surprise, more evidence of his protege's complicity in murder and cover-up. Would you care to guess who that protege might be?"
<Julia> "Well we were certainly surprised to find it actually her and not someone just using her name," Julia admits, but sees no value in getting drawn in on CLANKTRON and such.
<El-Cideon> "Who died in my place?" is Auranelle's simple, plaintive question.
<El-Cideon> "And I suppose that Her Undead Majesty simply dwelt in peace on the plane of death for twenty-five years, bringing harm to no one?" Calloran snaps back at Franceska and Julia. To the Queen, his answer is more level: "A chambermaid. She had no family or dependents. We chose carefully to minimize personal loss."
<Steph> "No. It was a terrible place," replies Stephanie. "Hellish. Vicious. Her Majesty had been subject to unbelievable torments, as I am sure you're aware. Really, your own crimes pale in comparison." She narrows her eyes. "But they are still crimes. Capital crimes, on the undeserving. If you say it is acceptable for you to commit them out of some nebulous good, then I reject that." She gestures
<Steph> to Calloran. "We've been around the planes a lot, and they deal out their own ineffable justice. Ours is simpler. You killed our friend for your own security."
<Franceska> "How many innocent people, one might ask, had been chosen over the years to protect your secret, and your comfortable job?" Franceska muses out loud, following up on Stephanie's denouncement. "Oh, and the realm, of course. We cannot forget about that." She shakes her head. "We've stopped the depredations you refer to, and now it's time to stop your own. Give us the location for Leah's body
<Franceska> so that it can be properly cared for, and turn yourself in. Confess, and you will get to live. You'll also spare the nation from any undue panic, as you claim to want."
<El-Cideon> "I kill for the kingdom's security, and for nothing else," Calloran insists to Stephanie. Rosemund nods along to Franceska's ultimatum. "You *did* bury her properly, right?" she asks, bristling with barely suppressed fury. Calloran nods and replies with commendable calm. "She was laid to rest in the memorial fields overlooking Solanth. In an unmarked grave, out of necessity, but with appropriate honors."
<El-Cideon> "I remember you when you were young, bright and eager to do right in royal service," the Queen says with a distracted air. "It seems that time has done its work on both of us."
<Julia> Well at least she wasn't tossed in some dank pit and forgotten about, as Julia had feared. "Better than I expected, still worse than she deserved."
<Franceska> "And now we'll see if your conviction holds true, or was merely a matter of convenience. For you see, Archmage Calloran, I am simply a better mage than you are. What is it going to be? Are you going to be yet another casualty to protect the realm, and get us to step back by your sacrifice? Or do we need to expose your crimes before all after crushing you?"
<Steph> Stephanie flexes her palms, and glances at those present with the adornments of Pelor. "We serve the same gods. I don't want to fight, but we will have justice for Leah."
<El-Cideon> "Do you really believe that it benefits anyone at all to make it known that the peace of two decades was built on a lie?" Calloran prods Franceska. The young priestess, for her part, exchanges a glance between her immediate superior and her former monarch with an uneasy expression.
<Steph> "The peace of two decades was build on the blood and sacrifice of thousands of soldiers who strove only to protect the Realm! How dare you pretend one lie changes that truth. How dare you!"
<Franceska> "In light of that, I am making you this offer," Franceska says calmly, ignoring Stephanie's outburst. "Confess to the murders. Make up whatever reason you wish. If you care about hiding the truth for the good of the realm, then do it when your own life is on the line, and not some poor servant girl you have no ties to."
<El-Cideon> "But whatever becomes of Her Majesty?" Calloran counters, ignoring Franceska's offer for the moment. "You cannot possibly maintain that her...condition...entitles her to return to reign in perpetuity. Is it your intent to initiate another civil war? I see no proper way that the kingdom at large could respond to her survival."
<Franceska> "Her Majesty can certainly speak for herself. She can tell you just as I am, that she has no interest in returning to Solata if justice can still be served in her continued absence."
<El-Cideon> The priestess gives the Queen a good long appraisal. "She doesn't *look* dangerous or corrupted," she says to her boss, rather awkwardly. "Maybe a little pale..."
<El-Cideon> "It's not my wish to reclaim the throne, or make my survival known at all," Auranelle states calmly. "You killed for nothing."
<El-Cideon> "Then what *will* you do, and what have you done with your stolen years?" Calloran answers. "How are we to believe that one could persist after such an unnatural transformation with no blemish upon her soul?"
<El-Cideon> "I have the blessing of not remembering half of it," Auranelle admits, not sounding prepared to defend herself further than that.
<Franceska> "The planes are vast," Franceska picks up from there. "If you truly had no knowledge of Her Majesty's existence after the original cover-up, then it would take exceptional effort for anyone to learn of it again. Likely, not in our lifetimes." Julia excluded, that is. "So the problem, as you see it, will be solved."
<El-Cideon> Calloran snorts. "Should I discount the possibility simply on grounds that I personally will not live to see it grow to fruition when some chance rumor arises decades hence? Do you really believe that no problem could outlive our own lifetime?"
<Franceska> "It really sounds like an excuse to protect yourself," Franceska notes.
<Steph> "In any case, by the time we are all dead, nobody will remember her Majesty's face. Even if she did have a change of heart, she would just be seen as a pretender, a fake."
<Julia> "If King Frederic the first suddenly showed up trying to take over Solata I doubt he'd receive many ardent followers," Julia points out. "Given even the passage of another generation, Queen Auranelle will likewise become dead history of no import to the current day."
<El-Cideon> Even in her current disposition of self-loathing, Auranelle can't help but look a little wounded at the bluntness of Julia's statement.
<Julia> "Sorry," Julia mutters apologetically. "But time heals all wounds?"
<El-Cideon> Calloran sighs. "Then what, ultimately, is the just course that you propose?" He scans the whole group, for either consensus or dissension.
<Franceska> "To be led to Leah's grave, for us to either rebury her properly under her name or-- really, it would be up to Rosemund. And then, for you to turn yourself in for the murders you have committed. Should there be others complicit, and you would know that part best, ensure that they are removed from positions of power and trust. That way, His Majesty gets a fresh start with advisors unrelated
<Franceska> to the dirty dealing of the war, and you receive justice for your crimes. And we just go away, considering justice to have been served."
<Julia> Julia nods her approval to this plan.
<Steph> Stephanie kicks her feet against the sill. "Regrettable as it is," she says. "Not even her Majesty wishes for her status to be known. So there is no need to reveal every dirty detail... just your crimes. Who knows?" She shrugs. "The king might fire you, but pardon you. Or imprison you in the nicest apartments."
<El-Cideon> "I--I think that I can bring her back this time," Rosemund says hopefully. "And I will! And we will actually convince her not to say anything or cause unnecessary trouble, instead of just killing her as the first answer." As levelly as she can manage, and with an uncharacteristic coldness, she adds, "I do not really care what happens to you just so long as it stops you from doing stupid things like this."
<El-Cideon> Queen Auranelle draws herself up to add a pronouncement. "My own stake in the kingdom is passed, but I should prefer to leave it having seen justice done. There should be no more silencing problems with knives in the night. So long as I can be assured of that one way or another, I would call our acquaintance satisfactorily ended."
<Franceska> "And there you have it. Our preferred way of resolving things, but not the only one."
<El-Cideon> OOC: Fran, roll Diplo? Everyone else can aid if desired
<Franceska> roll 1d20+26
<Rei-chan> 6,0Franceska rolled :6,0 1d20+26 --> 6,0[ 1d20=11 ]4,0{37}
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+21 Rosey
<Rei-chan> 6,0El-Cideon rolled :6,0 1d20+21 1,0Rosey --> 6,0[ 1d20=1 ]4,0{22}
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+24 Auranelle
<Rei-chan> 6,0El-Cideon rolled :6,0 1d20+24 1,0Auranelle --> 6,0[ 1d20=12 ]4,0{36}
<Steph> roll 1d20+12
<Rei-chan> 6,0Steph rolled :6,0 1d20+12 --> 6,0[ 1d20=13 ]4,0{25}
<Julia> roll 1d20+7 aiding
<Rei-chan> 6,0Julia rolled :6,0 1d20+7 1,0aiding --> 6,0[ 1d20=13 ]4,0{20}
<El-Cideon> As Calloran considers this ultimatum, his priestly aide adds quietly, with an abashed her as though she hopes no one else heard it: "There's an awful lot of things you didn't tell me."
<El-Cideon> Calloran reaches a decision. "We'll have no show trial. No public circus in which we parade about disgraces better left buried with the war dead. I should think my intent plain in wishing to let the past rest." He adds, insistently: "If your sense of justice must be satisfied, we will see it done quietly."
<Julia> "That will suffice," Julia says. "So long as you face some consequence for your actions, we will be satisfied."
<Franceska> "Your friend here can arrange for confirmation to be delivered to us. We'll be busy with Leah for now, so you will have your time to arrange things."
<Steph> "We can count on you, right, priestess?" calls Stephanie, glancing down at her. "To get to the truth and make the right decisions?"
<El-Cideon> "Then we will make our way to the high priest in Solanth to begin this process of...disclosure," he acknowledges, sounding most comfortable describing his fate with a clinical air. The priestess nods, with a look of relief as violent confrontation seems to have been averted. "I trust Her Majesty will make good on her promises and fulfill her own responsibility to trouble not the realm with her presence any further." Finally, he adds for the grizzled knight by his side: "And captain, I should hardly think it necessary to instruct you so, but I add this for the benefit of our guests: you and your men will maintain silence about this meeting to your graves." As the knight captain nods, Calloran turns back to Rosemund. "You will find your aunt in the northwest plot of the memorial gardens. Look for the recent gravesite. There should not be any others."
<Julia> "Alright, then I suppose we're done here," Julia says. Probably for the best she didn't have to bring out the giant undead.
<Franceska> "I'm pleased with this," Franceska says, squeezing Rosemund's hand. "Let's go."
<Steph> Stephanie floats away from the windowsill, to settle next to Rosemund. "Looks like things'll work out, eh?" she says, ruffling the girl's hair.
<El-Cideon> Rosemund just nods. She obviously doesn't want to say anything else to him. Calloran dispenses a stiff bow for the Queen before turning and departing with his contingent of guards, who look more like a crowd of gaolers now than a security detail.
<El-Cideon> "We'll see," Rosemund says excitedly. "I've never tried this spell before! I only hope it works."
<Franceska> "Whatever you need to increase our chances, just say the word."
<Steph> "I've got a shovel."
<El-Cideon> Auranelle begs leave to attend, expressing an interest in seeing the memorial itself, and obtains a cloak to go about properly incognito. The memorial for war dead loyal to the crown throughout the Troubles sits upon a scenic overlook just within few of Solanth itself. Most of the graves are plain, noble soldiers typically being buried on family plots on their own estates, and a large proportion are unmarked, but it's attractively arranged and lined with commendable sculptures of angels both grieving and heroic. It takes some time to find the spot, but there is indeed only one mound not wholly overgrown with grass in the quadrant specified.
<Steph> Eager to see Leah alive and whole once again (though not really relishing the idea of seeing her bloated corpse), Stephanie places shovel into dirt, and begins to dig.
* Franceska begins to pace nervously at some point, and doesn't stop herself.
<El-Cideon> "O-okay," Rosemund mutters aloud as she frets and paces. "I hope that this works, I would not want to have disturbed her for nothing..."
<El-Cideon> Auranelle just gazes quietly out at the expanse of graves.
<Julia> "Even then we can give her a proper marked grave," Julia tells Rosemund. "But I'm sure it'll work."
<Franceska> "Julia is right. We'll do right by Leah either way."
<El-Cideon> Stephanie's tireless constitution makes relatively short work of six feet of earth; it's early afternoon by the time shovel strikes wood and you can clear out ground around a coffin.
<Steph> "I hope nobody sees this. It's illegal, y'know. My reputation would dive so fast," mumbles Stephanie, before grabbing the coffin and airlifting it up from the ground to set it on the earth nearby.
<Julia> "Even the rumours can be bad," Julia agrees in solidarity with Stephanie's sentiment.
<Franceska> "Don't listen to them, and just work your spell," Franceska tells Rosemund.
<El-Cideon> Rosemund feels obliged to open it up herself. Within is Aunt Leah, dressed in a clean white gown; even in death she wears a casually stern and subtly demanding expression, spoilt only slightly by the ragged gash across her throat. "Oh, Auntie Leah," Rosemund breathes, tearing up. Then she sits up straight and composes herself. "Alright. I was about to ask you all to wish me luck, but I am sure that luck should have nothing at all to do with this."
<Franceska> "You should have it all the same."
<Steph> "It's noon," remarks Stephanie, glancing at the sky. "A holy moment."
<El-Cideon> Rosemund nods, kneels by the coffin and focuses herself. She seems to struggle a moment finding the right words; after making the necessary obeisances in Celestial and some chants and sing-songed prayers, the most heartfelt thing she ultimately feels it necessary to add is, "Pelor, I have been really good, so if you do not help me out this time then I do not know if I can talk to you again. Amen."
* Franceska nods in understanding.
<El-Cideon> Properly reverent or no, some sentiment must have pleased a higher power, because Leah's fatal wound soon seals itself up, all limned with light; color can be seen returning to her cheeks, and breath slowly resumes in her chest. Her reawakening is as mercifully peaceful as her death clearly was not. Her eyes flick open; she sits up with some trouble and Rosemund leans in to support her. Leah looks around and seems to take in her surroundings at last. "I suppose it's better than a prison cell," she admits drily.
<El-Cideon> She runs a hand across her throat as though surprised to hear her own voice again.
<Steph> Praise the sun! Stephanie clasps her hands together, and for just an instant, she seems like a picture-perfect choir girl.
<Julia> Julia just smiles happily and reaches over to pat Rosemund on the back, keeping quiet so she can have her moment otherwise.
<El-Cideon> Rosemund latches onto her aunt and squeezes her tight, babbling apologies; Leah does her futile best to calm the girl down. "Easy, Rosemund!" she gasps. "I'm trying to get used to breathing again."
<Franceska> "She can bring you back again?"
<Steph> "It's too expensive! Way too expensive. Loosen up, Rosemund."
<El-Cideon> Leah does her best to wipe off Rosemund's tears with her sleeve. "Once was quite sufficient," she says.
* Franceska hesitates, but then hugs Leah herself.
<El-Cideon> "I'm sure there's a lot you need to explain," she says, in between returning displays of respectful affection. "But I imagine there's a better place for it." She carefully detaches herself from her niece and climbs unsteadily out of the coffin.
<Franceska> "We do have a flying ship."
<El-Cideon> "Then let's fly it on home," Leah suggests, taking this in stride. "I have no way of knowing when it was that I last ate."
<Steph> Ever-thoughtful, Stephanie finds it in her to put a coat around Leah's shoulders.
<El-Cideon> Rosemund guides her aunt back to the ship. "How long has it been?" Leah wonders. "There aren't many of those around these parts."
<El-Cideon> "Apparently," Auranelle speaks up for the first time, "it used to be mine."
<Julia> "It's... been a few months," Julia says, not really having the best sense of time with all those sojourns to planes without night and day cycles. It all just blends together in her head.
<El-Cideon> Leah looks sharply up at the new speaker? "Your Majesty?!" she exclaims.
<Franceska> "Surprise," Franceska says weakly.
<El-Cideon> "I would suggest not using the title anymore," Auranelle suggests. "I'm a little unclear about the legality of this, but I feel as though I may have abdicated today."
<El-Cideon> ~