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Into the Icy Darkness II: The Next Generation
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<blockquote data-quote="Emperor Valerian" data-source="post: 1583437" data-attributes="member: 15043"><p><strong>Chapter 1b</strong></p><p></p><p>“Lord Canbris MacMahon, son of Duke Reginald of Abu Sirun!”</p><p></p><p>Valaron Caladron gave a grumble as the newest noble’s son to enter the room stepped down the elegant stairway into the ballroom, his perfect smile and perfect face flashing a grin towards the group of girls in the corner, all of which gave a nervous giggle. Magically enhanced... all of it. Val could, if he closed his eyes, sense the magic reeking from the young noble’s body. It was a trait he’d inherited from his mother.</p><p></p><p>The Crown Prince ran a hand through his flaming red hair in frustration. His manservants had put oils on it to shape it, but Val preferred it slightly disheveled. It made him look more action-oriented, more dashing in his opinion, as opposed to merely a dandy. He absolutely hated dandies, and Val’s deep blue eyes, flecked with small spots of red, flashed a look of disdain at the dandy now leaving the bottom of the stairs.</p><p></p><p>The party was ostensibly for him, but Val would have preferred to not be here. He was sixteeen, an age where his marriagebility was not just a personal issue, but an issue that at times came close to dominating Imperial politics. And while Val’s parents had taken the extremely unusual step of allowing him free choice, they wanted him to at least publically, “be looking.” Many promises and agreements had been extracted from the notoriously independent minded nobles, on the account that Valaron, “would consider,” their daughter’s hand.</p><p></p><p>Personally, Valaron could care less. Women of noble blood had never held his eye. His mother had to use her last resort, the line, “You need to do this to be a good prince,” to get him to cave in and attend. He would have much rather been out practicing his magic, at the armory practicing with his blades, or galloping about in the country, ever looking as to what was around the next corner, past the next bend in the road. </p><p></p><p> Normally he would have the prismatic dragon Ari around... the dragon was inquisitive, and happily accompanied him on trips... albeit polymorphed into human form. He was on visit right now, out to the Dice’s in Holstean.</p><p></p><p><em>It’s times like these I really miss the summer home,</em> Valaron sighed. Some six years before, a large summer manor had been completed in the Obashi Desert, hundreds of miles from the hustle and bustle of Iskeldrun. There Val could shirk his Imperial responsibilities, and explore. He loved riding, checking out every nook and cranny of every cave for leagues around the manor. Sometimes his sister joined him, an occurrence that had stopped since she’d entered the prestigious mage’s school. </p><p></p><p>Val himself loved his blades too much to devote entirely to magic, so his father took time out of every day to teach him the raw basics. Val’s goal was to be just like his father... a proud warrior that could just as soon slash you down with sword as he could launch an enormous fireball your way. </p><p></p><p>His training had been complimented by the personal training his mother gave him as well... with katana and washizaki, rare blades only found in the Imperial Palace and the distant realm of Ak Konylu. One day, Val knew, he would have to wield the Swords of State... his father’s snow white bastard sword, and his mother’s flaming katana...</p><p></p><p>His hand flashed down to his waist at the thought, and he felt the pebbly, jeweled hilt of a dress sword... not the familiar smooth steel of his bastard sword or the soft sandhog skin of his katana. That too, caused him to growl again.</p><p></p><p>“Something bothering you, Highness?” a soft, caring voice behind him said. Val looked over his shoulder, into a pair of kind, gray eyes.</p><p></p><p>“No, Hemmel,” Val lied to his manservant and good friend. “I’m just fine... just a little upset that the dandy over there had to show up.”</p><p></p><p>“Yes, Your Highness... and I imagine that he is most pleased at being able to irritate you a bit,” the young man replied. Val’s face frowned... Hemmel’s point was made, as he gave a sigh.</p><p></p><p>“Then I shouldn’t give him satisfaction by pouting,” the Crown Prince said quietly. </p><p></p><p>“And you shouldn’t upset your mother and father by staying aloof,” Hemmel added, gently guiding Valaron from his reclusive alcove towards the main floor of the ballroom, and then releasing him into the torrent of people. The room’s massive chandeliers cast a warm glow over everyone inside, a glow that made Val want to frown. For Hemmel’s sake, he didn’t.</p><p></p><p><em>So many in here have not set foot outside of carriage when shuttling between their manors, vacation homes, and the palaces,</em> Val’s mind complained. <em>They know little of the people that would be their subjects... and even less of how those people live.</em></p><p></p><p>Val, in that regard, had been fortunate... his parents were of noble birth, but while his father was the son of a very powerful noble, his mother Siabrey, now the Empress, was daughter of a very minor noble family... little more than yeomen. Through most the first half of her life, Val’s mother had lived, worked, and laughed alongside everyday people... farmers and ferriers, thieves and guards, merchants and peddlers. </p><p></p><p>She’d seen how they lived, and it had never left her blood. Indeed, she required both Valaron and Vintressa to every now and then go out incognito... to see how the ‘everyman’ lived. It was an experience Valaron was thankful for... it fit right in with his normally adventuresome spirit.</p><p></p><p>He’d heard of the adventures his mother and father had in their youths... fighting beasts, living in camps in the wild, riding free. Part of Valaron wished he could do that, instead of being fawned over in the palace, twittered over by ladies he did not know, and followed by servants and retainers wherever he went. He wanted peace and quiet... the kind his mother still described fondly. </p><p></p><p>As he thought, his face was a little sour when he noticed the daughter of the Duke of Chalcedon bowing gracefully before him. Over the preceding week, he’d received, at his own count, fifteen pieces of mail from her or her father. The Duke was pressuring Valaron’s parents hard to betroth him to her... and Val was thankful his parents so far were holding firm. He wanted nothing to do with her vapid person.</p><p></p><p>“Is something troubling your mind, My Lord?” she said, voice rippling, perfectly feminine. Valaron motioned for her to rise, and took in her face. It would have been pretty, save he guessed she had at least an inch of makeup, glitter, and other ‘beauty supplies,’ covering it. Just like all of the other ladies here, who were starting to surround him as soon as his presence was noticed. <em>All layering themselves with pretties and finery to hide themselves. Bah!</em></p><p></p><p>“My mind is wrestling with a distant problem, that is all,” Valaron lied again. One thing that being the son of nobility<em> forced</em> one to do quickly was learn how to lie... and when he wanted to (or when it was politic to do so) Valaron was among the best. He never liked doing it, but he reasoned that if he told Lady Daril that her poor makeup, overly scented perfume and fawning presence annoyed him, the diplomatic results might not be pleasant.</p><p></p><p>“Perhaps, my lord, some dancing my take your mind from said problem, and allow you to relax?” Daril said suggestively, raising an eyebrow. Valaron himself, while looking <em>at </em>her, actually paid attention to his peripheral vision... and the looks of absolute hate other girls were giving Daril for her priviledged position. </p><p></p><p><em>I can’t let just her have all the fun... maybe if I cut down the time with each fawner, my nausea will decrease...</em></p><p></p><p>“I think for now, I shall make greetings to all that have honored me by accepting the invitation to come here,” Valaron gave her a pleasant smile. “I shall keep your offer in mind, however.” <em>I hope to the gods two hours from now you’ll be trapped on the far side of the room from me, so I won’t have to honor my promise!</em></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>“It’s almost to us,” Vintressa gave a sigh of relief. “I don’t know why, as Crown Princess, I was stuck so far back in the line!” </p><p></p><p>Raven watched as her friend’s mental feathers were ruffled slightly. Of the brother and sister pair of heirs, Vintressa had always been the more politically minded, ever mindful of manners and decorum as her brother left niceties aside. By age 11, she had already started sitting in on her father’s less important meanings, listening and learning while Valaron was out exploring the forests and dales outside of Iskeldrun. She already had networks of people that kept her informed, even though she now was in school, nominally away from the palace. Of course, her parents kept her informed... and most recently, during a potential crisis with the northern tribes, Emperor Lucius had asked his daughter for advice on settling the situation.</p><p></p><p>“Probably they thought your mug was too ugly,” Raven quipped, trying to hide her own nervousness. The comment earned a glare from her friend, causing Raven to laugh. “You know I’m kidding! I bet your mother ordered everyone ahead, considering we were late!”</p><p></p><p>“Yeah, that sounds like mom,” Vintressa sighed. The Empress Siabrey shared Valaron’s disdain for decorum, and if her daughter was late, too bad. She did not get the first place in line, and she’d have to wait with everyone else. “At least I wasn’t stuck here in this long line alone. Thanks for coming, Tarty,” the princess grinned.</p><p></p><p>“Vintressa!” Raven gasped. “Don’t use that nickname in public!” she hissed, elbowing her friend hard. It had originated from an incident that involved a pie, sailing through the air. The marms at the academy had not been impressed, and Raven’s brilliant evasions and excuses that ultimately allowed both of them to avoid punishment had earned her the nickname from Vintressa.</p><p></p><p>“Princess Vintressa Caladron, accompanied by Lady Raven Dice!” the stewards voice rumbled from their left, and both girls turned to look down the stairs, into the ornate room they would be entering. It seemed filled with people, a few dancing, many talking.</p><p></p><p>Vintressa gulped, seeing the masses of people, and the large group of young noble men already eyeing her. “Well... into the fire we plunge.”</p><p></p><p>“Why do I feel like a martyr of some kind when you say that statement?” Raven rejoined, before scanning the ground again. There were several loose gaggles of people, though two immediately caught her attention. The first was covering the young noble Canbris MacMahon, though Raven could not immediately sense the waves of magic from the young noble’s pendants, rings, and circlet. All she could sense was the entirely non-magical feeling that MacMahon was a pompous jerk.</p><p></p><p>The second gaggle she could not tell as easily who was in its center. It was all decidedly women, who seemed to be gently touching those closer to the center on the shoulder... the noble decorum’s equivalent of, “Get the hell out of my way!” She caught a momentary glimpse of a red head peeking through the mass... and then his face... and her heart stopped.</p><p></p><p><em>He looks ever better in person</em>, part of her gawked. Rather quickly, her self control returned, and she stiffened in self-reproach. <em>You were gawking! You ought to know better! After what happened to you with Raote!</em></p><p></p><p><em>Valaron isn’t Raote</em>, another part of her tried to chime in, before being smothered.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Valaron himself was looking about, desperately. Trying to find some way out of this gaggle of people fawning over him, hoping for rank and privilege, all while keeping a smile floating as a thin veneer over his slowly building fury. By chance, his eyes flashed up towards the stairs, and for the first time that night, a genuine smile came to his face.</p><p></p><p>“Ah, excuse me,” he said politely, thankful for a reason to break away from the Duke’s daughter. As he walked forward, the small crowd parted for him, and he had to resist the urge to break into a run towards the stairs. He was unable, however, to resist the urge to call out.</p><p></p><p>“Vintressa!” he called to the blonde girl in the pair. She dashed down the stairs and buried him in a tight hug. “How are you doing squirt!” he grinned. Crowds around him be damned, he hadn’t seen his sister in two months, and he was going to engage in a little bit of brotherly teasing.</p><p></p><p>“Hey!” Vintressa growled at her brother, giving him a very slight, playful elbow. If there hadn’t been a crowd, it probably would have been a much stronger, though no less playful strike. “Don’t touch my head... it took us an hour to get our hair set up!” she cautioned.</p><p></p><p>“Well, it looks very nice,” Valaron glanced at his sister’s hair, done up in an ornate mound of curls over her pale face, and laughed. Vintressa, for all her sense of properness, hated having her hair like that, despite the numerous paintings adorning the palace walls of her formally dressed. “I’m guessing this is the only time I’ll get to see you done up like this for what... another three months?”</p><p></p><p>“Quiet you!” Vintressa grinned, before glancing back at her friend. The Princess’ eyes widened slightly at seeing Raven’s face behind her... before suddenly narrowing into playful slits. “Raven! Stop feasting your eyes on Val and say hello!”</p><p></p><p>“Hi Val,” Raven said with warmth, before her eyes looked at Vintressa and mirrored her friend’s look of playful reproach. The Crown Princess then broke into a huge smile at her friend’s angry gaze.</p><p></p><p>“My, Vintressa! They never said you were bringing friends!” Val smiled, before putting an arm around each of their shoulders, and steering them away from the stairs. “It’s been a long time since the three of us troublemakers have gotten together! I vote we go and plot a new escapade in the corner... or just catch up on times again!”</p><p></p><p>While Vintressa laughed at Valaron’s humor, the Prince felt Raven’s shoulders tense slightly under his arm. When he looked at her, still grinning from his quip, he saw the smile of Raven’s face was smaller, thinner... nervousness dancing in her eyes... eyes that ever so briefly stared into his. The nervous look then suddenly flashed towards Vintressa, and the narrowed look of fury built again, the dark haired girl’s face going slightly crimson.</p><p></p><p>“So, Val? How is the playboy of our time dealing with the sudden attention?” Vintressa said in a low voice, ignoring Raven’s death stare. The crowds in the room cleared as the three walked through, allowing them to continue unimpeded, all giving the Crown Prince and his chosen company a respectable berth... while still craning to hear what was being said. Vintressa, alone among the three, had prepared for this, and her voice was low enough that she knew only Valaron and Raven could hear her.</p><p></p><p>“Vin!” Valaron growled, looking at his sister. “I am <em>not</em> a playboy!” Vintressa merely laughed at his comment... and laughed even more as Valaron’s face descended from its normally copper tone to a deep shade of crimson.</p><p></p><p>“I know,” she sputtered between laughter, “I merely love teasing you about it!” </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Simeon glanced towards his sister. </p><p></p><p>“Do you think he’ll see us?” He gave a sharp puff of air upwards, shifting a long strand of black hair from in front of his brown eyes. In one hand, rather lopsidedly, hung a champagne glass, half full at this point with punch. Simeon felt it unwise to enter what could become a tense situation with his mind fogged by alcohol. Nerves, yet again.</p><p></p><p>“Well,” Eryna glanced out into the crowd, shifting and moving as the Crown Prince moved through it, “I think he will.” Her long, lithe form was languidly sprawled on one of the ornate chairs, her raven hair done up, but partially hanging free, partly onto her shoulders and back Her lavender eyes gave a wink to a gaggle of awestruck sons of nobles that stared in her in her form-fitting dress, before turning back. “He’ll see us, sure enough. Just as much as those poor lackless boys see me right now.” </p><p></p><p>“Eryna, I hope this works!” Simeon said. By his face, it was easy to pick his age... perhaps twenty one, nearly the same as his companion. He continued to stare moodily into his glass. “Otherwise, the fire will get slightly too hot for both of us... and Uncle!” <em>He put me up to this, anyway!</em></p><p></p><p>“Forget about Uncle for right now,” Eryna gave a wide, lazy smile, her hand gracefully bringing the cup of champagne to her full lips, which supped ever so slightly on the fine vintage. She suddenly set the glass down, and stared full bore at her brother, her lavender eyes full of intensity. “We have other reasons for doing this than Uncle’s political whims! We have father!” </p><p></p><p>The intensity left her face, and she settled back into her chair, seemingly still languid and resting. Simeon knew she had merely relaxed the coiled spring that was her mind, and that she could tense it up again just as quickly if she desired. “Besides, you act as if you do not want to be Duke of Erelion, or possibly Emperor?” she added with a large smile. Simeon gave a sigh in response.</p><p></p><p>“Don’t tell me you’re going to back out now?” she whispered, “After all I did for you?”</p><p></p><p>“No, I’m not backing out. I’m just not sure how wise it would be for the two of us to cross swords, so to speak, with the Emperor!” Simeon took another drink of his punch. There was no way he’d ever consider actively drawing swords against the Emperor... Lucius V might be known for his patience and longsuffering... but stories were still told of how, 16 years ago, he slew a great demon 20 feet tall, and crushed an invading army...</p><p></p><p>“Honestly, Simeon, you need to not worry as much,” Eryna’s attention returned to the crowd, watching the shifting gap opened by the approach of the Royal Person moved closer and closer. Slowly, gracefully, every movement perfectly controlled and timed to show off her frame, she sat up, and then stood. “It’s time, Simeon.”</p><p></p><p>Gruffly the young man rose as well, running a hand over the front of his red and orange silk jacket and laced coif. <em>If I head to the lions, I should at least look well.</em> With an eye of disdain, he noticed his sister had nothing to change about her low-cut, form fitting silk gown. The others men still stared at her hungrily.</p><p></p><p>The crowds finally parted the last time, revealing their quarry. The Crown Prince had the Crown Princess in one arm... and a woman neither of them recognized in the other. He was eagerly talking to his sister in quiet times about something... the other girl seemed rather nervous. Her face was red, and her eyes kept flecking back towards Valaron quickly, before looking straight ahead.</p><p></p><p>Simeon stood beside his sister, and followed her lead when she boldly started striding forward.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Emperor Valerian, post: 1583437, member: 15043"] [b]Chapter 1b[/b] “Lord Canbris MacMahon, son of Duke Reginald of Abu Sirun!” Valaron Caladron gave a grumble as the newest noble’s son to enter the room stepped down the elegant stairway into the ballroom, his perfect smile and perfect face flashing a grin towards the group of girls in the corner, all of which gave a nervous giggle. Magically enhanced... all of it. Val could, if he closed his eyes, sense the magic reeking from the young noble’s body. It was a trait he’d inherited from his mother. The Crown Prince ran a hand through his flaming red hair in frustration. His manservants had put oils on it to shape it, but Val preferred it slightly disheveled. It made him look more action-oriented, more dashing in his opinion, as opposed to merely a dandy. He absolutely hated dandies, and Val’s deep blue eyes, flecked with small spots of red, flashed a look of disdain at the dandy now leaving the bottom of the stairs. The party was ostensibly for him, but Val would have preferred to not be here. He was sixteeen, an age where his marriagebility was not just a personal issue, but an issue that at times came close to dominating Imperial politics. And while Val’s parents had taken the extremely unusual step of allowing him free choice, they wanted him to at least publically, “be looking.” Many promises and agreements had been extracted from the notoriously independent minded nobles, on the account that Valaron, “would consider,” their daughter’s hand. Personally, Valaron could care less. Women of noble blood had never held his eye. His mother had to use her last resort, the line, “You need to do this to be a good prince,” to get him to cave in and attend. He would have much rather been out practicing his magic, at the armory practicing with his blades, or galloping about in the country, ever looking as to what was around the next corner, past the next bend in the road. Normally he would have the prismatic dragon Ari around... the dragon was inquisitive, and happily accompanied him on trips... albeit polymorphed into human form. He was on visit right now, out to the Dice’s in Holstean. [i]It’s times like these I really miss the summer home,[/i] Valaron sighed. Some six years before, a large summer manor had been completed in the Obashi Desert, hundreds of miles from the hustle and bustle of Iskeldrun. There Val could shirk his Imperial responsibilities, and explore. He loved riding, checking out every nook and cranny of every cave for leagues around the manor. Sometimes his sister joined him, an occurrence that had stopped since she’d entered the prestigious mage’s school. Val himself loved his blades too much to devote entirely to magic, so his father took time out of every day to teach him the raw basics. Val’s goal was to be just like his father... a proud warrior that could just as soon slash you down with sword as he could launch an enormous fireball your way. His training had been complimented by the personal training his mother gave him as well... with katana and washizaki, rare blades only found in the Imperial Palace and the distant realm of Ak Konylu. One day, Val knew, he would have to wield the Swords of State... his father’s snow white bastard sword, and his mother’s flaming katana... His hand flashed down to his waist at the thought, and he felt the pebbly, jeweled hilt of a dress sword... not the familiar smooth steel of his bastard sword or the soft sandhog skin of his katana. That too, caused him to growl again. “Something bothering you, Highness?” a soft, caring voice behind him said. Val looked over his shoulder, into a pair of kind, gray eyes. “No, Hemmel,” Val lied to his manservant and good friend. “I’m just fine... just a little upset that the dandy over there had to show up.” “Yes, Your Highness... and I imagine that he is most pleased at being able to irritate you a bit,” the young man replied. Val’s face frowned... Hemmel’s point was made, as he gave a sigh. “Then I shouldn’t give him satisfaction by pouting,” the Crown Prince said quietly. “And you shouldn’t upset your mother and father by staying aloof,” Hemmel added, gently guiding Valaron from his reclusive alcove towards the main floor of the ballroom, and then releasing him into the torrent of people. The room’s massive chandeliers cast a warm glow over everyone inside, a glow that made Val want to frown. For Hemmel’s sake, he didn’t. [i]So many in here have not set foot outside of carriage when shuttling between their manors, vacation homes, and the palaces,[/i] Val’s mind complained. [i]They know little of the people that would be their subjects... and even less of how those people live.[/i] Val, in that regard, had been fortunate... his parents were of noble birth, but while his father was the son of a very powerful noble, his mother Siabrey, now the Empress, was daughter of a very minor noble family... little more than yeomen. Through most the first half of her life, Val’s mother had lived, worked, and laughed alongside everyday people... farmers and ferriers, thieves and guards, merchants and peddlers. She’d seen how they lived, and it had never left her blood. Indeed, she required both Valaron and Vintressa to every now and then go out incognito... to see how the ‘everyman’ lived. It was an experience Valaron was thankful for... it fit right in with his normally adventuresome spirit. He’d heard of the adventures his mother and father had in their youths... fighting beasts, living in camps in the wild, riding free. Part of Valaron wished he could do that, instead of being fawned over in the palace, twittered over by ladies he did not know, and followed by servants and retainers wherever he went. He wanted peace and quiet... the kind his mother still described fondly. As he thought, his face was a little sour when he noticed the daughter of the Duke of Chalcedon bowing gracefully before him. Over the preceding week, he’d received, at his own count, fifteen pieces of mail from her or her father. The Duke was pressuring Valaron’s parents hard to betroth him to her... and Val was thankful his parents so far were holding firm. He wanted nothing to do with her vapid person. “Is something troubling your mind, My Lord?” she said, voice rippling, perfectly feminine. Valaron motioned for her to rise, and took in her face. It would have been pretty, save he guessed she had at least an inch of makeup, glitter, and other ‘beauty supplies,’ covering it. Just like all of the other ladies here, who were starting to surround him as soon as his presence was noticed. [i]All layering themselves with pretties and finery to hide themselves. Bah![/i] “My mind is wrestling with a distant problem, that is all,” Valaron lied again. One thing that being the son of nobility[i] forced[/i] one to do quickly was learn how to lie... and when he wanted to (or when it was politic to do so) Valaron was among the best. He never liked doing it, but he reasoned that if he told Lady Daril that her poor makeup, overly scented perfume and fawning presence annoyed him, the diplomatic results might not be pleasant. “Perhaps, my lord, some dancing my take your mind from said problem, and allow you to relax?” Daril said suggestively, raising an eyebrow. Valaron himself, while looking [i]at [/i]her, actually paid attention to his peripheral vision... and the looks of absolute hate other girls were giving Daril for her priviledged position. [i]I can’t let just her have all the fun... maybe if I cut down the time with each fawner, my nausea will decrease...[/i] “I think for now, I shall make greetings to all that have honored me by accepting the invitation to come here,” Valaron gave her a pleasant smile. “I shall keep your offer in mind, however.” [i]I hope to the gods two hours from now you’ll be trapped on the far side of the room from me, so I won’t have to honor my promise![/i] “It’s almost to us,” Vintressa gave a sigh of relief. “I don’t know why, as Crown Princess, I was stuck so far back in the line!” Raven watched as her friend’s mental feathers were ruffled slightly. Of the brother and sister pair of heirs, Vintressa had always been the more politically minded, ever mindful of manners and decorum as her brother left niceties aside. By age 11, she had already started sitting in on her father’s less important meanings, listening and learning while Valaron was out exploring the forests and dales outside of Iskeldrun. She already had networks of people that kept her informed, even though she now was in school, nominally away from the palace. Of course, her parents kept her informed... and most recently, during a potential crisis with the northern tribes, Emperor Lucius had asked his daughter for advice on settling the situation. “Probably they thought your mug was too ugly,” Raven quipped, trying to hide her own nervousness. The comment earned a glare from her friend, causing Raven to laugh. “You know I’m kidding! I bet your mother ordered everyone ahead, considering we were late!” “Yeah, that sounds like mom,” Vintressa sighed. The Empress Siabrey shared Valaron’s disdain for decorum, and if her daughter was late, too bad. She did not get the first place in line, and she’d have to wait with everyone else. “At least I wasn’t stuck here in this long line alone. Thanks for coming, Tarty,” the princess grinned. “Vintressa!” Raven gasped. “Don’t use that nickname in public!” she hissed, elbowing her friend hard. It had originated from an incident that involved a pie, sailing through the air. The marms at the academy had not been impressed, and Raven’s brilliant evasions and excuses that ultimately allowed both of them to avoid punishment had earned her the nickname from Vintressa. “Princess Vintressa Caladron, accompanied by Lady Raven Dice!” the stewards voice rumbled from their left, and both girls turned to look down the stairs, into the ornate room they would be entering. It seemed filled with people, a few dancing, many talking. Vintressa gulped, seeing the masses of people, and the large group of young noble men already eyeing her. “Well... into the fire we plunge.” “Why do I feel like a martyr of some kind when you say that statement?” Raven rejoined, before scanning the ground again. There were several loose gaggles of people, though two immediately caught her attention. The first was covering the young noble Canbris MacMahon, though Raven could not immediately sense the waves of magic from the young noble’s pendants, rings, and circlet. All she could sense was the entirely non-magical feeling that MacMahon was a pompous jerk. The second gaggle she could not tell as easily who was in its center. It was all decidedly women, who seemed to be gently touching those closer to the center on the shoulder... the noble decorum’s equivalent of, “Get the hell out of my way!” She caught a momentary glimpse of a red head peeking through the mass... and then his face... and her heart stopped. [i]He looks ever better in person[/i], part of her gawked. Rather quickly, her self control returned, and she stiffened in self-reproach. [i]You were gawking! You ought to know better! After what happened to you with Raote![/i] [i]Valaron isn’t Raote[/i], another part of her tried to chime in, before being smothered. Valaron himself was looking about, desperately. Trying to find some way out of this gaggle of people fawning over him, hoping for rank and privilege, all while keeping a smile floating as a thin veneer over his slowly building fury. By chance, his eyes flashed up towards the stairs, and for the first time that night, a genuine smile came to his face. “Ah, excuse me,” he said politely, thankful for a reason to break away from the Duke’s daughter. As he walked forward, the small crowd parted for him, and he had to resist the urge to break into a run towards the stairs. He was unable, however, to resist the urge to call out. “Vintressa!” he called to the blonde girl in the pair. She dashed down the stairs and buried him in a tight hug. “How are you doing squirt!” he grinned. Crowds around him be damned, he hadn’t seen his sister in two months, and he was going to engage in a little bit of brotherly teasing. “Hey!” Vintressa growled at her brother, giving him a very slight, playful elbow. If there hadn’t been a crowd, it probably would have been a much stronger, though no less playful strike. “Don’t touch my head... it took us an hour to get our hair set up!” she cautioned. “Well, it looks very nice,” Valaron glanced at his sister’s hair, done up in an ornate mound of curls over her pale face, and laughed. Vintressa, for all her sense of properness, hated having her hair like that, despite the numerous paintings adorning the palace walls of her formally dressed. “I’m guessing this is the only time I’ll get to see you done up like this for what... another three months?” “Quiet you!” Vintressa grinned, before glancing back at her friend. The Princess’ eyes widened slightly at seeing Raven’s face behind her... before suddenly narrowing into playful slits. “Raven! Stop feasting your eyes on Val and say hello!” “Hi Val,” Raven said with warmth, before her eyes looked at Vintressa and mirrored her friend’s look of playful reproach. The Crown Princess then broke into a huge smile at her friend’s angry gaze. “My, Vintressa! They never said you were bringing friends!” Val smiled, before putting an arm around each of their shoulders, and steering them away from the stairs. “It’s been a long time since the three of us troublemakers have gotten together! I vote we go and plot a new escapade in the corner... or just catch up on times again!” While Vintressa laughed at Valaron’s humor, the Prince felt Raven’s shoulders tense slightly under his arm. When he looked at her, still grinning from his quip, he saw the smile of Raven’s face was smaller, thinner... nervousness dancing in her eyes... eyes that ever so briefly stared into his. The nervous look then suddenly flashed towards Vintressa, and the narrowed look of fury built again, the dark haired girl’s face going slightly crimson. “So, Val? How is the playboy of our time dealing with the sudden attention?” Vintressa said in a low voice, ignoring Raven’s death stare. The crowds in the room cleared as the three walked through, allowing them to continue unimpeded, all giving the Crown Prince and his chosen company a respectable berth... while still craning to hear what was being said. Vintressa, alone among the three, had prepared for this, and her voice was low enough that she knew only Valaron and Raven could hear her. “Vin!” Valaron growled, looking at his sister. “I am [i]not[/i] a playboy!” Vintressa merely laughed at his comment... and laughed even more as Valaron’s face descended from its normally copper tone to a deep shade of crimson. “I know,” she sputtered between laughter, “I merely love teasing you about it!” Simeon glanced towards his sister. “Do you think he’ll see us?” He gave a sharp puff of air upwards, shifting a long strand of black hair from in front of his brown eyes. In one hand, rather lopsidedly, hung a champagne glass, half full at this point with punch. Simeon felt it unwise to enter what could become a tense situation with his mind fogged by alcohol. Nerves, yet again. “Well,” Eryna glanced out into the crowd, shifting and moving as the Crown Prince moved through it, “I think he will.” Her long, lithe form was languidly sprawled on one of the ornate chairs, her raven hair done up, but partially hanging free, partly onto her shoulders and back Her lavender eyes gave a wink to a gaggle of awestruck sons of nobles that stared in her in her form-fitting dress, before turning back. “He’ll see us, sure enough. Just as much as those poor lackless boys see me right now.” “Eryna, I hope this works!” Simeon said. By his face, it was easy to pick his age... perhaps twenty one, nearly the same as his companion. He continued to stare moodily into his glass. “Otherwise, the fire will get slightly too hot for both of us... and Uncle!” [i]He put me up to this, anyway![/i] “Forget about Uncle for right now,” Eryna gave a wide, lazy smile, her hand gracefully bringing the cup of champagne to her full lips, which supped ever so slightly on the fine vintage. She suddenly set the glass down, and stared full bore at her brother, her lavender eyes full of intensity. “We have other reasons for doing this than Uncle’s political whims! We have father!” The intensity left her face, and she settled back into her chair, seemingly still languid and resting. Simeon knew she had merely relaxed the coiled spring that was her mind, and that she could tense it up again just as quickly if she desired. “Besides, you act as if you do not want to be Duke of Erelion, or possibly Emperor?” she added with a large smile. Simeon gave a sigh in response. “Don’t tell me you’re going to back out now?” she whispered, “After all I did for you?” “No, I’m not backing out. I’m just not sure how wise it would be for the two of us to cross swords, so to speak, with the Emperor!” Simeon took another drink of his punch. There was no way he’d ever consider actively drawing swords against the Emperor... Lucius V might be known for his patience and longsuffering... but stories were still told of how, 16 years ago, he slew a great demon 20 feet tall, and crushed an invading army... “Honestly, Simeon, you need to not worry as much,” Eryna’s attention returned to the crowd, watching the shifting gap opened by the approach of the Royal Person moved closer and closer. Slowly, gracefully, every movement perfectly controlled and timed to show off her frame, she sat up, and then stood. “It’s time, Simeon.” Gruffly the young man rose as well, running a hand over the front of his red and orange silk jacket and laced coif. [i]If I head to the lions, I should at least look well.[/i] With an eye of disdain, he noticed his sister had nothing to change about her low-cut, form fitting silk gown. The others men still stared at her hungrily. The crowds finally parted the last time, revealing their quarry. The Crown Prince had the Crown Princess in one arm... and a woman neither of them recognized in the other. He was eagerly talking to his sister in quiet times about something... the other girl seemed rather nervous. Her face was red, and her eyes kept flecking back towards Valaron quickly, before looking straight ahead. Simeon stood beside his sister, and followed her lead when she boldly started striding forward. [/QUOTE]
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