Here is the first post of The Lunacy of the Guilloux Mansion Playground.

The discussion thread is separate, so, as we all know, please direct all questions, comments, and concerns, basically anything out of character to THIS PAGE.



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It ached.

Oh, how it ached. It creaked and groaned with the harsh winds of the frigid, swampy Pale, shuddering with each gust like a child in the cold. Freezing rain pattered against its warm shingles, sliding down the roof to greet the equally cold ground.

It yearned.

Years had passed, repairs had been made. The fires that had broken out, scorching its beloved halls, revealing its secrets within, murdering its precious mistress, have long been quenched. The one who's fingertips brushed its inner walls lightly, murmuring softly to it was but a ghost of a ghost.

It hungered.

As the victims drew closer, it exhaled in anticipation, the windows peering out like eyes in all directions. Watching.

The Guilloux Mansion would again taste blood.


---


CRACK!

The Dunmer cried out in pain as the whip licked at her arm, a purple whelp rising up where she had been snapped. The hand that reached to soothe the wound with a spell was also whipped.

"Leave it. And hurry up!" The Breton woman snapped. "This place is a mess! Don't heal yourself until you're finished! It better sparkle before the guests arrive!"

"Yes, muthsera." The Dunmer woman said, her voice edged with the throbbing pain of her wounds. Blood beaded up on her arm and hands. As her mistress walked away, heels clacking down the wooden floor of the hallway, she uttered a small curse. Foggy sunlight streamed through the windows momentarily, lighting up the floor of the dim kitchen momentarily. A moment later, a Breton man walked in with a large tub of water.

"What did you do?" Sweat glistened on his pale, freckled brow. His fiery red hair was matted with sweat as he set the large cauldron of water onto the hook. He started the fire with a fire spell, the logs catching easily after dying overnight.

"Nothing, Antoine. I just wasn't quick enough with my scrubbing."

"The floor looks great."

"She didn't think so."

"Help me with this. The baby is craving my stew. Again." the cook said. "Quickly, Anaya."

The maid fished the proper ingredients out, jumping as a bellow was heard from outside.

---

The stablehand cried out as the curly-headed Breton woman whipped him with her small whip. The wiry man, not yet twenty, cowered on his hands and knees, suffering blow after blow.

"Madame Belladonna! Please!" He begged, his pale face turning red from the effort of not crying. She relented, panting.

"You groom those horses properly! You hear me?" She side-arms one last blow, striking his across his left thigh. He cried out again, sobbing.

"Yes, Madame!"

"The carriages will be here any moment! I'm sure at least one will have their own horse. You clean that stable out!" She pressed a hand to her engorged belly, the infant inside kicking, alerted at the woman's heightened anger.

"Shhhhh, little one. Mama's a little stressed. Don't worry. We'll be fine." She turned sharply at the stablehand.

"Direct them when they come in, Jon. And clean yourself up." She whirled to the sprawling three-story mansion, black velvet dress flowing behind her. As she closed the door, a carriage rumbled up, piquing the boy's interest. As it came to a rest, the boy timidly walked up, his thin frame pushed by a sudden gust of wind. Clouds rolled in, darkening the skies significantly. He bobbed his blonde head.

"Rain's coming. right. Better get inside. Madame's in the study room, first door on the right." he said to the traveler. "Best get in 'fore it starts pouring."

A cold drop of rain hit the traveler's nose.

Enarvy looked out the window of the carriage as it trundled along, watching the harsh, snow-covered landscape roll by, trying to ignore the frequent bouncing of the carriage. While he had told his associates that he was going on a trip, he had kept to himself the necessity of it. He could not turn down the possibility of a windfall of gold, he owed money and needed more for his research. The invitation then, from another old associate of his, was simply too good to pass up. As the mansion came into view, Enarvy spent a moment studying it before looking away disinterestedly. It was only then that something caught his eye, not so much something he saw, but something none the less. For a brief moment he had the impression of malice emanating from the mansion, a foolish notion soon dispelled simply be looking at the mansion again. There was certainly nothing to suggest anything out of the ordinary, so he simply put it down to the idle fancies of a mind bored and weary from travel.

It wasn't long before the carriage rattled to a halt, and none too soon looking at the weather, changing even as Enarvy watched it. He smoothed his robes, grabbed the pack which contained all he'd thought he'd need, then stepped out of the carriage. He was greeted by a thin youth, with more than a little in the way of Breton features, who smelled of the stables, and had hair to match. "Rain's coming. right. Better get inside. Madame's in the study room, first door on the right." he said to the traveler. "Best get in 'fore it starts pouring." Enarvy didn't bother to reply, not in the habit of thanking the help. He frowned in annoyance as a single frigid drop of rainwater struck his nose, and stepped inside, moving straight to the first door on the right. He knocked twice, to announce his presence rather than to request entry, then opened the door to the study.

Just a few minutes from the mansion, Aranios felt delicate, chill fingers of rain on the back of his neck.

He muttered a curse, more out of annoyance than anything, pulling up his hood and pressing his heels into the flanks of his horse as encouragement to pick up the pace. As a steady drizzle began to fall, Aranios' horse trotted along the road towards the house.

Not long afterwards, the rain still pattering against his cloak, he arrived at the mansion. It was an impressive building, imposing and magnificent. As he dismounted, Aranios found himself picking out entry points and escape routes across its front, out of habit more than anything else. He was, after all, invited. Unravel the clues and find a chest of gold; sounded like fun.

There was a young man waiting out in the rain, and he hurried forward to take Aranios' horse as he dismounted.

"Make sure he's stabled," Aranios said, flipping him a septim and shooting him a grin. "Good man."

He headed through the front doors without further invitation, a swagger in his step. Once indoors, he removed his cloak with a slight flourish and handed it to the Dunmer maidservant waiting for guests, to hang it up.

"Where might our host be found?" he asked her as the cloak was handed over. Shaven head, he noticed, and pretty thin, too. Looked whipped, too, from the way she avoided eye contact in a way that went beyond merely deferential.

"The study room, sera," the girl curtsied. "First door on the right."

"Thank you kindly," Aranios replied. He sauntered over to the indicated door and knocked.

The rain was pouring down now as the carriage wheels rolled through the muddy path to the manor.

Its Breton passenger pulled his treated leather hood tighter around his head. The garb would be adequate to keep both wet and cold out, and his vast experience in being outdoors meant he wouldn't be bothered by it too much.

His hand wandered absent-mindedly to his satchel. In it, he mentally re-read the letter he'd received from a family friend that he'd not seen in years. An eccentric host was having a most strange kind of soiree. The winner would be awarded with the chest of gold should they figure out it's location. Otherwise it was free room and board for a few nights, in a part of Skyrim he'd never traveled that far too.

Jeanstar Lelltal considered the braids in his hair that were fading from an auburn brown into grey, and he hadn't even passed his fortieth year. He wouldn't be able to fight or travel forever...but if the money was as good as the letter claimed, he wouldn't have to worry about that much longer.

The driver of the carriage drew his cloak and hood tighter as he called out over the sound of the rain, pointing to the Manor. Jeanstar gazed at it, the Guillox Mansion. Lights from the windows could be seen faintly, and the torches illuminating the stables were a bit more clear. A welcome sight in this weather.

In a few minutes they arrived, and Jeanstar took his pack from the carriage, and handed the driver a few septims as a tip.

"When it comes time to leave, let me know!" The driver smiled. "I'll take you all the way back to High Rock if you want."

Lelltal smiled softly back at him. "Perhaps." he said quietly.

I already have the route memorized, plus I might just be able to buy the horse and carriage... He thought.

A fellow Breton approached him, wearing grey and smelling like the horses he apparently tended too. His voice was raised ever so slightly to be heard over the rain, which seemed to fill him with a type of dread. Whether the rain, or raising his voice he couldn't tell.

He pointed to the front entrance and told him to enter the foyer, and that he would be directed to the host. Following his instructions, he was greeted by a most curious sight. A Dunmer Maiden.

He'd never seen one before, though had read and heard about them. The ashen grey skin, the crimson eyes that stared a timid hole at his muddied boots. It was her demeanor, and not her race that told him that she was not the host.

"G-good evening, Muthsera. Others have arrived, and we are awaiting the rest. You will be waiting in the study, at the first door on the right." She spoke to him.

It took him a moment to realize that he was staring at her.

"Oh...yes. I see. Thank you." He replied as he removed his hood and cloak and she took them from him. He continued over to the door, and knocked lightly, feeling the knob at the same time and entered.

Percival surveyed his surroundings on his way to the mansion. The young breton man shifted uncomfortably in his seat on the carriage, and sighed in slight irritation when a few wet drops fell from the sky before a heavy downpour of rain began to fall. He hugged himself and shivered. Surely he couldn't keep warm in his current garments. The thin, tear filled cloth pressed against his pale skin as the rain soaked his only pair of shirt and pants, and his shaggy reddish brown hair stuck to his forehead and the upper half of the back of his neck. He looked down at his bare feet, then then looked back up and continued to survey his surroundings with a bright look in his steel-gray eyes. Despite the cold rain drenching his only set of clothing, and the repulsive weather, he kept his spirits up. He was excited to be invited to a party, this was the first party he'd ever been invited to, and it filled him with excitement that somebody had wanted to invite a filthy young beggar to a fancy party like the one at the mansion.

A wide grin spread across Percival's face as the carriage approached the mansion, and the cart abruptly halted to a stop. He shivered and then hopped off the cart. He got a slight look of disdain on his face as he felt the mud squish beneath his feet, dirtying them in the process. He didn't want to make a bad impression to the wealthy folks living in the mansion, and tracking mud into the estate surely wouldn't make for a good impression to the people living here. Percival tried not to get his feet too muddy as he walked towards the mansion. He approached the stable boy, his own tall for looking down at the teenager. He gave the boy a warm smile, then promptly made his way in the direction the young boy had pointed.

He looked up at the outside of the mansion in awe. A feeling of anxiety began to overwhelm him. The host must be really rich, and Percival wasn't necessarily an expert when it came to common manners. He continued to stare in awe briefly before reaching into his pocket and pulling out the soggy invitation delivered to him by the courier. He handed the invitation to the dunmer woman at the front door, then promptly entered the mansion. He wiped his feet on the mat and looked around in amazement.

"Wow..." He said absentmindedly to himself. The young breton man was quite used to seeing mansions from the outside. The rich folk would always slam the doors of their large, well furnished homes in his face when he would come to the door and beg for money. Another realization crashed down on his conscience. The chest of gold being offered to the victor of whatever activity was being held at this party. He realized he had a chance of winning. Though it was a slight one, it was still there. All of his suffering would end. No more going to bed on an empty stomach. No more being stuck wearing the same pair of ragged clothes that he barely fit in. No more sleeping on the cold hard ground. No more begging, and best of all, no more being avoided by the people he yearned to socialize with. He might even be able to buy a big mansion like this one! His eyes lit up with hope and joy at his slight chance of getting the chest of gold, and even if he didn't win, it was still nice to know he was wanted at a party. He excitedly glanced around at the other people in the room, and tried his best to smooth out his dirty clothes and hair.

Sarde looked out at the mist rising from the fens around the manor. He raised the brightly colored hood of his tunic about his head, when a drop of rain fell on his nose. He glared at it, irritated. He quickened his steps, moving into the manor yard.

Sarde saw a maiden, a fellow Dunmer, in the yard. "Hello, miss. Is this the Guillox Mansion?"

"Yes, Muthsera. Let me take your bag." She took Sarde's small satchel, slinging it over her shoulder and leading him inside.

He looked around. The decor was mind-numbingly drab. "It seems some of the Red Mountain ash drifted to Skyrim, eh?" He frowned when the maid stared at him blankly.

"Oh, ha-ha. I see, Muthsera; how funny," she said in a monotone.

He shrugged and stood waiting for the host, flipping a septim on his thumb.

Belladonna looked up, her wiry, curly hair pulled into a loose bun. Thin ringlets hung about her face, her large brown eyes searching the face of the one who disturbed her reading. A smile spread on her thin, pale lips.

"Welcome," she said in a thick High-Rock accent."To Guilloux Mansion. I am Belladonna Guilloux. Sit." She motioned to a worn red high-backed chair, the plush still stiff from misuse. It creaked when the robed Dunmer sat. Not long afterwards, another knock on the door, follow promptly with Anaya opening the door, apologizing to Belledonna's frowning face.

"Be quick about that door!" She scolded. The Dunmer dipped her head in apology, keeping her eyes on the floor as the Imperial man sauntered in.

"Welcome," she said, her tone warmer as she addressed the tall Imperial. "I am Belladonna Guilloux. All will be explained shortly."

One after another, the five travelers filled the room, with the last being ushered in by Anaya. The maid quietly closed the door after Antoine came through the door. Both servants folded their hands primly in front of their bodies and cast their eyes on the floor.

"Is this it?" Belladonna asked. "Anaya."

"Yes, muthsera. There are no other carriages en route at this time."

"I know I sent out more letters than this. Their loss. Sit. Everyone sit. Yes, even you, beggar." She said to Percival. "Don't worry about the mud. Anaya will tend to it once we're finished here."

The rain darkened the study significantly, causing the Dunmer servant to begin lighting the lanterns. Rain pattered heavily outside, beating on the window with an angry ferocity. Belladonna smirked, letting a short, amused breath out of her nose.

"Well, any stragglers will certainly drown. Welcome." she said, addressing the group. The room lit up more, the lanterns all lit. Anaya held one up by Belladonna, her eyes trained on the boots of the newcomers.

"I am Belladonna Guilloux. As I'm certain you know, and if you do not know, you are very slow and in the wrong place, I have called each of you here with the promise of a chest full of gold." She surveyed the group, her brown eyes black in the lantern light.

"But that gold comes at a price. A mutual associate of all of yours have passed away. And that associate was my father. Petra Guilloux. some of you knew him as Peter, Some as Arcenne, and others by a name he did not give me. Anaya, the portrait."

Anaya lit a bright light in her hands and tossed it at a dark portrait on the wall, hung beside the door. It was a portrait of a mousy Breton man in his late forties. A streak of silver shot through the crown of raven hair atop his head. Even in the picture you could tell he didn't bother much with brushing the messy curls. Lively brown eyes, with a hint of mischief, conveyed accurately on canvas, stared back at the travelers.

"He died six months ago, doing research. He was much older than he was in the picture, of course, but I'm sure you all recognize him just fine."

The light faded.

"Now, it was his dying wish that I distribute the money to the most deserving individual. He had difficulty choosing who that was, as you all know of his indecision." She chuckled.

"So I've come up with something rather mundane, but easy. Find the chest of gold. The first one to find it and bring it to my attention, keeps it. Simple as that." She gave them a thin smile.

"Take all the time you need. Anaya will show you to your rooms, as well as give you the tour. Any questions?"

He woke up when the gentle motion of his horse stopped. “Hmm?” He grunted to himself. The world still spun in lazy circles, so he hadn’t been out for more than a couple of hours. A steady, cold rain fell from the sky. This change in weather was unwelcome to the Argonian.

“I said are you lost sir. The road is that way.”

His eyes locked onto the youth that addressed him, not bothering to sit up. “Guillox Mansion,” he rasped. His horse probably wandered here because she smelled the stable.

“Oh uh, you are a guest? My apologies. I’ll stable your horse.”

Boots didn’t react to this good news except try to dismount from his horse. A boot caught in a stirrup, and he fell into a fresh mud puddle. He waved the stable hand away when he tried to help him up. The world was spinning too fast now. He sat in the puddle, mud and dirty water getting into his already travel worn clothes. After a few moments, and a fortifying sip from a flask, he stood on his own and let himself inside the mansion, dripping water and tracking in mud.

“Do you have an invitation?” Boots turned and looked. The stable hand had followed him to the house.

After digging through three different pockets, he produced a soggy, torn, stained, but genuine invitation. With that, the stable hand directed him to the study. He started making his way to the study, grabbing onto anything he could the steady himself.

“I said to the right!”

He reversed his direction leaving muddy boot prints on the shiny clean floor.

He let himself into the study, stumbling on the threshold, in time to hear the Breton woman ask “Any questions?”

“Where’s the gold?” he blurted before taking a pull from his flask. There were more people here than he anticipated. In fact, he was only anticipating himself. “Who are they?”

Belladonna let out a slight groan.

"You must be Boots. I trust you found the mansion easily enough. Right, well, to give you the shortened version, my father has passed,and he instructed me to give the gold to his most deserving," she gave him a disapraging look. " associate. So, in short, Petra Guilloux's money will be going to whomever finds it first. Anaya."

The Dunmer stepped forward, her eyes never leaving the floor.

"Madame."

"Those floors are absolutely filthy."

"Yes, muthsera." Anaya said timidly and quickly disappeared. Belladonna gently patted her belly and grabbed a lanter off the wall.

"Follow me. Antoine, dinner."

"Will be ready at seven bells sharp."

"Good. Dismissed."

The Breton opened the large oak door, leaving it open for Belladonna.

"Follow me, gentlemen. Since the hallways have been dirtied, I'll give you the tour myself." She walked out, the group following behind. The walls were a deep red, with dark wooden paneling at the bottom. The floor were an equally dark wood with a dull shine.

"Guilloux Mansion," Belladonna said with a slight flair. "Has been in my family for five-hundred years. The Guillouxs have a rich history." Her heels thunked sharply on the wood, her black gown rustling. She gestured to several painting on the wall, of various family members, all with the same curly raven hair and intense brown eyes. She stopped at the end of the hallway, at the base of a set of stairs and turned to face them.

"We have our hands in several businesses, including, but not limited to, fur trade, logging, and of course, mining." Behind the group, at the entrance of the house, Anaya began scrubbing the floors of the muck and dirt.

Belladonna continued. "The first room you have seen is the study. The room across from that is the Sitting room. The sitting room is currently being refurnished, so do not go in there." She pointed to her left, ust behind them. "The second room on your right is the Trophy Room. Do not touch the mounts. Across from there is the Dining room. The dining room leads to the kitchen. And to my left," She gestured accordingly.

"Is a room only I have the key to. Do not attempt to go in there. Any questions before we move on to the second floor?"

Boots was unperturbed by Belladonna’s reaction to his arrival. “Actually I did have some trouble finding the mansion, the directions on my invitation lead to a cliff. Must have been an honest mistake.”

Then the tour started. Belladonna proudly lead the group through the house filling them in with little details on her family that Boots didn’t listen to. He drank steadily from his flask, and kept close to a wall for support. He left a trail of mud where he walked.

Any questions before we move on to the second floor?

“Yeah. Where can I pee?”

Jeanstar's eyes squinted ever so slightly, partially from age and low lighting and partially from recognition.

Petra Guillox! He of course recognized the face right away, the name he did not until she spoke the name Arcenne. He had dealings with his own employer, Lord Betianne in the remote hamlet that he resided in High Rock.

Jeanstar followed a trade that the locals called Arbalest in their local Breton tongue. More commonly known as a Crossbowman in the rest of the Empire. His specific duties were a Travel Guard in a small coterie that joined Lord Betianne when he went abroad, or protected his valued guests in his name. Arcenne being one of them.

He had joined Arcenne on perhaps two dozen or so trips over the last two decades. The leagues and time hadn't made them close friends, perhaps fond acquaintances, and he felt a passing sense of loss at the news of the man's passing.

While the whole situation sounded a bit outlandish, he knew Arcenne was rich enough to afford to be called eccentric. One more game to pass the time sounded just liked him, and he could swear his portrait gave him a knowing wink in the lantern's jumping flame.

"Madame Guillox." He started sporting a thick Breton brogue. "I'll not say that the news of the gold isn't a welcome bit, but the passing of your Da is not. I won't say I knew him well, just that I knew him well enough. May he be in Aetherius an hour before the Daedra finds out he's dead." he offered with a local blessing.

Enarvy had been growing suspicious since the moment he'd met Belladonna Guilloux, and by the end of the first floor tour he was certain something was wrong. Why would a wealthy woman expecing guests have such poorly treated furniture? Why would the refurnishment of the living room not be finished before the guests arrive? Was there no man of the house? And if so, why was he not there to greet the guests? And why would a heavily pregnant woman decide to invite five complete strangers into her home to tear the place up looking for a chest of gold? Maybe he had simply read too many mysteries, but there seemed to be more than a few thing that were a little strange.

And the appearance of the others did not reassure him. Two of them were clearly scum, the beggar and the drunkard, The Breton he couldn't read, but if nothing else seemed polite enough, while the Imperial looked a little dangerous, and Enarvy had spotted the subtle sheen of magic on the rings he wore. And the other Dunmer was no better, openly carrying a sword as if he expected trouble. But what concerned Enarvy most was that he and Petra had not parted on the best of terms. Their business deal had gone bad, and both of them had lost coin on it. He wondered how the others had known Petra...

"The urn," Belladonna said to Boots, "Is in the sitting room." She gestured to the appropriate door. "Don't get lost. Come upstairs when you're finished."

She led the rest of the group upstairs, gesturing as she spoke. "The three doors to your right are entrances to the bedrooms. All of them have rooms for bathing." She opened the door to one and walked to the bed and touched a string. She gently pulled on it, turning to the group.

"If, at any time in the night, you need assistance, this will summon one of my servants. Only call if you are in need of assistance. Do not, I repeat, do NOT use this to summon my servants for sex. They are under strict orders to not engage in such activities. Now," She moved the group to the hall. "This door," she pointed to her left, "Leads to the library. It is quite large. it takes up half of this floor. Any questions before me move to the final floor?"

"Yes, Madame Guilloux. What kinds of books might be in your library?"

"The books here range from daedra worship to the mundanes of history. My family has a wide range of interests between us. My own father restored the library after the mansion sat for thirty years. Most of the books now are his and mine. Whatever could be salvaged after the fire is in cases. Who wants to pick their room?"

So Arcenne was dead? Pity, really. Aranios and the slightly eccentric Breton had never been too close, but he had enjoyed his company and the man had been useful as a contact and a supplier of certain goods over the course of Aranios' career. Really, he wasn't surprised that this treasure hunt had been his idea; it was exactly his style.

He listened carefully to the explanations given by Belladonna, and out of spite and curiosity, he decided he would pay a visit to the sitting room later on. The woman was an irritable, vicious battleaxe, that much was inherently obvious, and she had a stick shoved so far up her backside that it was actually amusing. He resisted the urge to snort in derision when she insisted that the servants were not there for intercourse; what was here that was worth taking? That rake-thin, whipped dunmer girl? The stablehand? Aranios was a man of more refined tastes, and neither of them were interesting to him.

The inside of his left wrist itched. Best not to scratch; didn't want to draw attention to it, even with the sleeves.

As Belladonna gave her little talk, Aranios surveyed the group. The Argonian was intoxicated, drunk and seemed to have found his way here through a lucky accident rather than intent (directions to a cliff! He'd have to try that on one of his fellows when he got back; that was the sort of gallows humour they'd see the funny side of), and Aranios decided that he was most likely no threat. One of the Dunmer openly wore a sword, and the other contented himself to fancy clothing and was aged, which told Aranios little aside from the fact that one of them had a length of pointy metal. Two Bretons, one a skinny little pauper type and the other with a haircut that didn't seem to be particularly refined or urban; either he was as wild as he suggested or so boring that he thought his hairstyle would make him interesting.

In short, he knew absolutely nothing about these people or what they were capable of. That sort of thing made him uncomfortable.

"Who wants to pick their room?"

"I wouldn't mind doing that, Lady Guilloux," Aranios said, adding the title as a little extra flattery. He wanted somewhere where he could enter and exit without being easily seen, more out of habit than anything else, and wasn't going to turn down an opportunity to get the right room like the one he was being presented with.

As much as the library appealed to him, Enarvy dragged his attention to more important matters. Three doors suggested three rooms, and if so he didn't want to be stuck sharing a room with the beggar or the drunkard. He was about to speak when the Imperial beat him to it, and Enarvy waited a moment before speaking.

"Nor would I, Madame."

Belladonna gave them both a wry smile. "Hmmm. Well, let me mention that there are also rooms upstairs, though they are a tad more dusty, besides my own room. Most of the rooms are very similar, though one does not have a washroom upstairs. It is the nursery. That room is also off limits. It is finished, finally, and I don't want mud and dirty hands all over it."

Light footsteps were heard, and a voice echoed up the stairs.

"Muthsera, Miss Angelina insists on seeing you!" Anaya frantically called up the steps. Belladonna's lips pursed as a blonde head bobbed up the stairs. The cornflower blue dress of the younger woman rustled as she bounced past the men and straight into the arms of Belladonna.

"Cousin!" Angelina cried out before kissing the other woman's cheek. "You've started without me. You told me it was next week this was happening!"

"Yes, well, I did for a reason." Belladonna sniffed.

"Good thing I can tell when you're lying. did you hide the gold yet? Oh I'm so excited to see who the winner will be!" She looked at the group and looked each member up and down. "Uncle knew interesting people, hmm?"

"Angelina!" Belladonna snapped at the blonde, who remained unfazed as she inspected Sarde's swords.

"These are really good work! My Da owns a smithing shop in each city. Can I hold one?" She asked.

"No! The tour isn't over yet!" Belladonna snapped. "Does anyone else have any questions?"

Enarvy had been about to reply, when she turned up. A blonde woman in a blue dress had virtually walked over the Dunmer servant to make an entrance, and he took a moment to appreciate the sight. A cousin of Madame Guiloux apparently, but any thought of her usefulness was soon dispelled. It seemed she'd been kept away during preparations, perhaps Belladonna didn't trust her young and exuberant cousin with the secret. Perhaps it was something else, and Enarvy added a mental note to the rest.

He soon lost interest in the girl when she showed an interest in the other Dunmer's swords. And returned his attention to his request.

"Not quite a question, Madame, but I would like to request the use of one of the rooms on this floor, for the proximity to the library. If that would be permissible."

"Of course." Belladonna nodded. "All rooms on this floor have washrooms."

"Did you hide it where you said you were going to?" Angelina interjected. "Near the-"

"SHHH!" The younger woman cut off when Belladonna covered her mouth. Angelina looked bewildered and yanked the woman's hand from her mouth.

"I'm joking! That's no fun if I give the surprise away at the beginning!" Angelina laughed. "I'm gonna head to the library. The rest of the house is boring, everyone. Except the attic."

"They're not permitted to go in the attic."

"Uh-huh. Right. You make up too many rules." She gave a short wave and a wink at Aranios before disappearing into the library. The door shut with a heavy force, and Belladonna sighed.

"Right, on to the next floor, then." She led them upstairs with seven entrances. At the end of the long hallway was a small set of stairs leading up high into the ceiling.

"Four of these rooms are for the taking. The last room on the right is the nursery, and I suppose my cousin will also have a room." She sighed as she glanced out the window at the heavy rain. "She'll choose whatever is left over, I suppose. My room is this one." She pointed to the last room on the left. "That one is off limits. Each room has the bell system for summoning servants. If there are no questions, please choose your rooms and unpack. We'll begin searching after dinner."

It seemed no sooner had Enavry dismissed Angelina from his thoughts than she determined to pry her way back in, displaying apparent knowledge of the treasure's location, a display backed up by Belladonna's reaction. And then she darted into the library.

During the brief tour of the second floor Enarvy moved to the back of the group and mad careful note of which rooms were off limits. And once the tour was over and Madame Guilloux asked them to choose their rooms, he made straight for the floor below, staking a claim to the middle room of the three opposite the library. He had little enough to unpack, but left his pack on the bed.

Percival walked into one of the empty rooms and shut the door behind him, leaving it unlocked. He glanced around the room and sighed.

I don't own any items...other than my dagger of course.

He began digging through the dressers. Empty. Percival sighed again, then flopped down on the bed and stretched. He shut his eyes and began to think. Why was the attic off limits? Perhaps that's where the gold was hidden. He'd have to go check up there later. He let out a relaxed sigh, and sat back up. He pulled his dagger out and set it on the nightstand beside the bed, and continued to survey his room. He stood up and pulled his wet clothing off, then tossed the soggy garments onto a chair and sat back down on the bed. He licked his lips and glanced at his clothes.

I hope they dry soon. I wanna head down to the library...

Boots finished at the urn. Despite his drunkenness, he didn’t miss or he didn’t think so anyways. No, that was water from his clothes he was sure. Yeah that was it.

He followed his trail of mud back to the stairway and was about to go back up to the group, when he had a better idea. He went to the nearest room Belladonna said was off limits and tried the handle. Locked. “Well, no hurt in trying,” he said to himself. Then he looked down. Mud lead right up to the off limits door. He shrugged and made his way back to the stairs. Leaning heavily on the railing, he made his way up and rejoined the group. A beautiful cousin of Belladonna joined them, and then disappeared. She seemed to be on the dumb side, but then Boots didn’t mind. In fact he preferred them that way. Easier to lie to, among other things.

Again there were more rooms that were off limits. That was more of an invitation really. He chose a room and tossed his bag in a corner and his flask with it. It was time to sober up. He didn’t bother changing or attempting to clean up.

Having claimed his room, Enarvy made his way to the library. Nothing had been mentioned about a need to rush, so he figured he had time to examine the library. As with the study, he knocked to announce his presence before entering. He found Angelina sat in an overstuffed armchair reading a book, and she glanced up as he entered before returning her attention to the book. Enarvy wandered around the library, finding it extensive and well-organised.

He noted Angelina shooting him the occasional glance, equal parts curiosity and mischief in her eyes. Since nothing leaped off the shelves at him, so to speak, he tried striking up a conversation.

"Something on your mind, Madame?"

Jeanstar claimed a room and unloaded his belongings to the floor. He kept his traveling goods in the pack and kept his war axe looped to his belt. Old habits and all that, he mused to himself. A wild animal or a straggling bandit was at least honest, people; especially with the promise of a chest full of gold, were much less so.

No sex with the servants? He thought to himself with a raised eyebrow. Well, I'll not say it isn't a common enough problem, but really who wants to catch a case of bed bugs in their own nest?! He shuddered as he remembered the cases that his more amorous cohorts would accrue when out and about at the next city, kingdom or province over.

That, alongside the particularly nasty diseases that also existed in the wild, was why he carried at least two vial of curatives among his possessions.

No goin' into the attic either? I wonder if that's all part of the game or some sort of ploy? Like those hidden passages those sneaky merchants put into contracts that most folk can't read, and then end up worse then they was. He scratched his beard in thought.

He could read, but he was no penman or judicial scribe that would understand the more fancy words.

Then again...if that blonde cousin of Miss Guillox's is tryin' to lure us up there...he pondered a bit more. Mebbe they're the ones tangled into some sorta bent contract...Arcenne was a strange one...maybe he got a little worse in his final days.

He shrugged his shoulders and felt the bed. Anything that wasn't just a blanket on the cold earth was luxurious to him.

"Get me some of those fancy spirits while I'm here though..."

Angelina gently rubbed a page between her thumb and forefinger as she studied the old Dunmer's face. She gave him a friendly smile, her eyes crinkling at the edges.

"I like your eyes. They're like embers of a fire trying to start. Not flaming red like most Dunmer. I've also never seen grey on a Dunmer. It's nice to know you eventually start looking your ages." She laughed, a light, tinkling sound.

"I hope my cousin doesn't rub you the wrong way. She's been very...uptight since her husband's passing. Even before uncle Petra died she was a little controlling, but I'm sure one day she'll learn to let go."

She clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes, standing up. She held out her hand to him. "I'm so rude! I'm Angelina. What's your name?"

Boots didn’t even check the bed after discarding his pack and flask. There wasn’t anything really interesting about his room. The bed he will be passing out in later sat in the middle. A dresser and a table made up the rest of the furnishings. He was used to sleeping in rough camps, seedy inns, or even barns, so he was looking forward to at least one night in a proper bed.

He left his room in search of the library. That’s where the pretty girl was. Trouble was, he was drunk and everything was spinning still. He didn’t remember which door the library was behind.

He tried a door and found it unlocked, and pushed it open. It was someone’s bedroom. A beggar was inside.

“Hey. Which room was the library in?” he slurred.

When she laughed, Enarvy forgot for a moment that he was a middle-aged mer. He felt like a young mer again.

"Enarvy Verothan" He bowed low, his lips lightly brushing the back of Angelina's extended hand. "At your service." He smiled warmly. "Thankyou for the kind words, though I daresay your eyes are the finer sight, like a clear sky on a summer day, and your pendant and dress accentuate them beautifully."

The window to Aranios' bedroom opened fully, which was excellent, and was near a drainage pipe which meant that any kind of escape could be easily affected. The precautions were habit, really, an affectation learned from a lifetime spent finding the quietest ways in and out of a building, and chances were he wouldn't need to use them. Still, always useful.

He checked his sleeve, feeling the shape of the lockpick concealed within, and he decided that he might as well scout out the mansion. He wanted to see what was going on with the attic and the sitting room.

Peeking out of his room, Aranios saw the argonian disappear into another of the bedrooms and set out. He didn't attempt any kind of stealth or even bother with being quiet as he headed towards the stairway; he was a guest, after all, and skulking around would only draw attention. He passed the open door of the library, where one of the dunmer was talking to Belladonna's far better-looking and much more charming cousin. Come to think of it, Belladonna had only forbidden trying it on with the servants, and had made no mention of her, and Aranios enjoyed the finer things in life. Barb would never know, and even if she did she wouldn't care.

He made it to the door of the sitting room without passing anyone else by, and glanced around the corridor for anyone coming. He slid the lockpick from his sleeve, and was just about to set about opening the door when the servant girl, the dunmer with the shaven head, rounded the corner.

With swiftness that would have astounded anyone watching, the lockpick disappeared back into its hiding place and Aranios stepped back from the door. He turned his attention to her, and decided to head off any questions about what he might be doing before she could ask them.

"Ah, someone who knows the place," he said, acting as if he had only just seen her. "Just what I need. Do you know where the study is? I was going to meet one of the other guests in there, for a bit of clandestine stuff about this little treasure hunt, but unfortunately I've completely forgotten where it is; no sense of direction, one of my few failings."

That last statement was added with a sardonic grin.

Percival jumped slightly at the presence of the argonian in his room

“Hey. Which room was the library in?” he slurred.

"Uh..." Percival sighed and grabbed his soaking wet clothing, and slid them on

"This way. Come on." He led the argonian man to the library and glanced around briefly before looking at the lizard.

"What's your name? Mine is Percival."

Angelina

The young blonde blushed, covering her cheeks with both hands in a motion of embarrassment after taking her hand back.

"You're embarrassing me!" she giggled, lightly and briefly brushing the arm of the older mer. She kept a smile on her face and slightly cocked her head.

"May I ask how you knew my uncle, Master Enarvy? You don't have to answer if it's...juicy." She leaned in slightly on the last word, the mischievous sparkle brightening slightly. "I know what type of man my uncle was, and he's not the only one like that in this family. I daresay my father is the only completely honest man in the family tree, and that comes from his own father's side." She absently bit the corner of her lip for a second, frowning slightly.

"Not that he was an evil man, my uncle. He just believed in a lot of grey areas. I'm sure you know."




------




Anaya

Anaya jumped and let out a small shriek when the Imperial man appeared in front of her as she rounded the corner. She steadied the tray she was holding, not spilling a single drop of tea. She quickly lowered her eyes to the tray and nodded when he was finished speaking.

"Yes, muthsera. I was instructed to bring all the guests tea if they wished it, but I will most definitely escort you to the study if you wish it. It is the first door to the right of the front door, furthest from the stairs. Is there anything else I can get for you, sir?"

He waited, his world spinning, while the beggar dressed in his dirty, wet clothes. He doesn’t need clothes to tell me where the bloody library is, he grumped.

“Ah, you lead me there. That way I can’t get “lost” and end up in the attic?”

When they arrived in the library, the beggar introduced himself.

“I’m Boots.” He looked at the young beggar.

“Tell ya what, I like you. If you find the treasure, bring it to me and I’ll give you half.” He clapped the Breton on the shoulder, swaying alarmingly with the gesture. “What do you say?”

Percival shrugged

"I dunno. I'll think about it. I've been cheated outta money before, and I don't intend for it to happen again." He glanced around the room again, then back at the doorway before returning his gaze back onto Boots "How much money are we talking about again?"

I need to get to the attic...

Enarvy couldn't hold back a smile as Angelina blushed, admiring the way the warm glow of her cheeks offset the mischevious gleam in her eyes. And when combined with her smile the combination was even more enticing.

"Please, just Enarvy. I'm afraid there's nothing too exciting in my dealings with Petra. Fifteen years ago he helped fund some research of mine. I'm a member of the College of Whispers, and I was experimenting with some rather advanced magic. I'm afraid the specifics would make for rather dull conversation. He terminated the arrangement and we both lost money."

Enarvy shook his head ruefully. "I never understood his reaction, he seemed to get so annoyed by delays caused by Guild laws and the like. But like you say, gray areas."

Enarvy looked back at Angelina, his dull crimson gaze meeting hers, smiling once more. "So, Madame Angelina, what brings you here? If you don't mind my asking. Are you perchance just here for the fun of watching us poor guests tear apart your cousin's mansion?" He asked, a mischevous grin to match hers painting itself across his features.

[Angelina]

"Ahhh," Angelina breathed a sound of understanding. "I see now. The College of Whispers, hmm? I knew his travels took him to Winterhold here in Skyrim, and the Arcane University in Cyrodiil, but never the College of Whispers. I doubt he appreciated the delays, as you said." She primly folded her dress in her lap before taking a seat and looked up at Enarvy.

"Did your dealings have anything to do with the ward enchantments he was fond of? He was searching for someone knowledgeable in shield magicks for years before I was born." She held up her blue pendant, the now apparent enchantment sparkling in the light of the library.

"He made this for me when I was..." She scrunched her mouth to the side, cocking her head in thought. "Oh, perhaps ten years ago? He taught me the procedure for a strong shield enhantment. Call me petty, but I used the knowledge to enchant this necklace to protect me from all manners of weather. rain, snow, even some wind. The nobles in Cyrodiil and High Rock would go mad over it. I plan on marketing it very soon." She smiled, looking a little proud of herself.

"And we have enough money to perhaps lower the prices so the middle and lower classes can benefit, too. I'd be using my own personal trust fund for it, of course, so to not burden anyone else with it." She patted her dress. "Maybe even make completely waterproof and snow-proof clothing. it's nothing new, it's just that uncle figured out a much stronger spell. I've had this dress for four years, and it looks brand new. The mud and muck just slides right off!"

Boots lightly smacked Percival on the back of the head. “You callin’ me a cheat?” he demanded, looking at the Breton coldly.

Then he laughed loudly, leaning heavily against Percival’s side, putting his arm on the beggar’s shoulder. “You should have seen your face!” He continued laughing until his sides hurt.

When he calmed down, still using Percival to support most of his weight, he said. “That treasure is mine. That old man owes me a lot of money. See my tail? No? That’s right! It’s gone! And you want to know why? That old man sent me on an errand to pick something up for him. Only he didn’t tell me the legion didn’t want it picked up.”

“So what are you here for?”

"I honestly don't know. I was invited here, and I'm quite surprised I was. I'm just a beggar. I wouldn't expect rich people to invite me to none of these fancy parties." Percival looked a bit nervous. He knew how to use a weapon, but wasn't necessarily strong due to malnutrition. Even if he did find the money, he had to worry about being cut down for it. He gave boots a stressed smile

"I could really use the money. I'm sick of having to beg to at least get crumbs to eat. It's not easy to get food. I'm kinda exited about the food here." He laughed

"No, well not directly at least. I was researching new ways to bind magic to items, to enchant them without the need for apparatus to assist the process. In theory it's possible, but the problem is channeling the magicka. Without the guiding apparatus generating a conduit it's significantly more difficult to focus and control the process. This makes it far more complicated, as the magic of the enchantment needs to be kept from interacting with the magically generated conduit. If that happens the magic can escape in an uncontrolled fashion, a danger to anyone or indeed anything nearby." He'd unconsciously assumed his 'lecture pose'. Standing straight with his hands behind his back. Once he realised this, he relaxed, a little of his embarrassment showing.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to start lecturing."

"I was experimenting using variants of the shield spells to channel and bind the magicka into the items, but your uncle's ward spell was, if you'll forgive me for saying, though powerful, somewhat lacking in finesse. It was just enough for it to interfere with the process I was experimenting with. Given time I might have been able to compensate for it as I refined my process, but between that and working within the College's regulations progress was a little too slow."

Enarvy smiled "I could hardly think you petty for using the knowledge you were given, especially considering your plans. To make such items available to those who would otherwise struggle to afford them speaks of a noble heart. It is a shame there are not more like you studying magic."

Despite Angelina's obviously rapt attention, the older mer apologized. She shook her head vigorously and motioned for him to continue, which he did. She blushed at his praise.

"Ah, no, I'm not noble. I see the money, just like anyone else. I just don't think I care quite as much as the rest of my family. I'm already rich enough, I don't need more money." She gave a light shrug of one shoulder. "Belladonna says I'm foolish, and that because I'm young I see the world better than it is. But she's wrong. I see the poor freezing each night, huddling by the weak little fires they make, and I can't bring them all home. And the jarl of Windhelm won't allow construction of a building made to house the poor in the city. So, why not make it happen my own way?"

Aranios bit back a sneer as he saw how the maid jumped as she saw him, and instead when she gave her explanation he simply nodded.

"There'll be no need for an escort there," he said. "I should be able to find my way there just on that, thank you, so don't let me keep you from your tea delivery."

A thought occurred him. She was a maid, and in the eyes of most, people like her were all but invisible. He could guess that someone like her was even better than avoiding attention than most; considering how contemptibly shy and beaten-down she was, she probably did her best not to be noticed by anyone if she could help it. That gave the potential to be incredibly useful.

"Actually, one thing before you go," Aranios said. "I'm a few minutes ahead of the fellow I was meeting with, and as soon as you're done with that tea, could I have a quick word with you in the study? I've got an idea that might benefit you and me alike."

This girl was a resource, and one he intended to exploit.

"You give yourself far too little credit, Angelina. Most would not look beyond the money, would ignore the people you want to help, and would sleep soundly. They would grasp at every coin that fell to them, and never think beyond them. It is something I often try to impress on students of magic: It is not enough to want power for the sake of power. If you do not have a reason, a purpose for that power, then you do not deserve it. It is, I think, something that contributed to the fall of the old Mages Guild. Too many grasping at power without purpose, without thought beyond themselves.

It is the same, I find, with money. And, like with magic, it is a test that all too many fail, yet prosper nevertheless. And that is why I say that you have a noble heart. Because your goal includes others, others to whom you owe nothing, but are still willing to help. Because you are willing to lose coin to aid those less fortunate, a thought that many simply would not understand.

To see the world as being better than it is is indeed foolish, but to want to make it better, and to be willing to try to make it happen, that is nobility."

Jeanstar left his room and started towards the sounds of people congregating, murmured voices, the occasional clink of wares. It seemed strange that he would socialize with his competition, but that was the point wasn't it, Arcenne?

On top of being eccentric, the man was a shrewd businessman. He rarely went inside for negotiations and meets; rather, staying in the quarters and areas intended for the help. On the once or twice he did go in, he would see the man sitting by himself with a drink or cup of tea, as relaxed as one could be on one end of the table.

On the other side, it would be the merchant, noble or person of wealth with their small group of scribes, attorneys, and other professional accessories looking utterly defeated against this single Breton who took them on and won each time. Jeanstar knew he was nowhere's near as clever as Arcenne, but even he realized that going in alone was a tactic that upset his counterpart's expectations and why he refused an escort each time.

Passing by a room, he heard the faintest sound of a drawer opening. Assuming it was yet another guest's room he paid it no mind at first, until he heard the sound of glass breaking.

Quickly entering, he opened the door wide to let the halls light illuminate the inside. Scanning the room quickly, he saw that a lantern was the source of the noise, and realized that the room wasn't quarters, it appeared to be a small study of some kind.

The desk drawers were open and a couple of cabinets as well, but no one but he was inside. He checked underneath the desk and behind the couch, but there simply wasn't a person that could be connected to the source of the disruption.

He sighed and muttered: "Just getting old I guess. The sound of the drawer must've been the lantern sliding off the desk." He shook his head in resignation and exited the study.

As his head moved from the down-turned position inspecting that the door was closing, into an upright one, he was met with the unexpected sight of two blue eyes staring a hole through him.

He startled visibly, and brought a hand to his chest as he offered his apologies.

"Forgive me lass, ye gave me a bit of a fright there. I thought someone had been hurt in there. Jeanstar Lelltal is meh name. Are ye one of the guests as well?" He asked.

She was slight of frame, and dressed from head to foot in black. It made the paleness of her skin, the azure of her eyes, and the radiant red of her hair red contrast even more against the drab, dulling colors of the house.

"Selvia Valieu, Maester Lelltal." She spoke with a preciseness that did not seem to match her age. "Yes. I'll be joining you all in this little scavenger hunt. I've only just arrived myself. I was told that I could find quarters and the others up here."

"Yes, lass. I was just heading over to the library mehself, if you'd care to --" He was cut off as she gave him a slight smile and took her leave towards the library.

He shrugged and started to follow her. It was then he noticed the scent, in the same manner one could pick up a waft of perfume from the still air in a hallway as one passed he noticed that she smelled ever so faintly of lamp oil.

"Was she in....?! No. No...just getting old." He thought to himself.

The tour was somewhat uneventful, and Sarde was bored for most of it. Until, of course, some girl came and grabbed his weapons. Say, baby, I've got another sword you can look at...

He threw his backpack and cloak in an upstairs room, next to the beggar's. He went over to the library, in case there was something interesting there.

Anaya

The thin Dunmer looked startled. "M-me?" She stammered, and she dared to look him in the face briefly. "I-I...yes, muthsera. I will make haste to the library." She hurried off and eventually met with Aranios in the study.

OOC: Let it open, Colonel Mustard, so you can head there at your convenience. And also if anyone else wanted to stop her, they could.


----------



Angelina

"You're too kind, Enarvy!" Angelina said before the other Dunmer joined them. her face brightened a little at the sight of his swords.

"Why do you carry those around? Are you expecting danger? The most dangerous person here is probably Belladonna, and she's just a bag of wind." She laughed, another light, tinkling sound. She stood up and peeked at his sword. "They're steel, aren't they? But the shine looks silver, almost."

She looked over at the door as it opened again to see a freckled redhead open the door. Angelina's face was one of complete surprise.

"S-Selvia?! You can't be here!"

Selvia's unblinking eyes crinkled as her full mouth smiled. Her deep blue eyes studied the two Dunmer men briefly before looking over at the blonde.

"Petra would've wanted it. Belladonna can go to Oblivion."

"She won't give you the money."

"I don't care about the money."

"You must be thirsty. Shall we find Anaya?" Angelina said, nervously changing the subject.

Selvia shook her head, her straight red locks, chopped in an odd style swaying with her head.

"No, I'm fine."

Thunder shook the house, making Angelina jump. She laughed nervously.

"I hate thunder."

The arrival of the other Dunmer brought the conversation with Angelina to a close, but before Enarvy could return his attention to the shelves of books, another "guest" walked in. A freckled redhead, apparently she was called Sevlia, and unlike the other guests, she seemed to be well known to Angelina.

Enarvy's suspicions, banished during the conversation with Angelina, returned threefold. There was now another guest, one not invited, and who by her own admission had no interest in the gold.

So what was this Selvia here for? And why would Petra have wanted her here?

The Dunmer girl arrived a few minutes later, looking as nervous and unsure of herself as always. She had her eyes averted, and almost seemed to be hiding behind the tray she carried, held up against her chest like a shield.

"You w-wanted to see me, muthsera?" she asked.

"Indeed I did," Aranios said. "Though before I go on, I don't think I got your name."

"A-Anaya, muthsera."

"Anaya," Aranios nodded, rolling the word around on his tongue. "What a lovely name. I'm Aranios, by the way. Now, about that offer."

He gestured for her to take a seat, and leant against the desk.

"Now, the thing about me is that, at the end of the day, I'm not a very good sport. Never have been, if I'm honest, and I'm very interested in getting this chest of gold," he said. "Now you are in the perfect position to go just about anywhere and hear a lot of things without anyone really noticing you or caring that you're around; after all, you're not a competitor, so why would anyone need to keep things from you. So, in exchange for a cut of the winnings, say, enough for you to get out of this mansion and make your own way in this world, you act as a spy for me. How about it, Anaya? Or do you want to stay cooped up as a maid in this mansion in the middle of nowhere forever?"




OOC: Hope you don't mind that I took control of Anaya a little bit, Liz. Just wanted the conversation to move at a halfway-reasonable pace.

Enarvy turned his attention to the other Dunmer. "If you don't mind me asking, kinsman, why do you carry those swords? I understand being cautious on the journey, but do you really think it's still necessary?"

"Well, as I am a bard of sorts, these come in handy for other things. For instance, if the lady doesn't mind," he stepped back and began tossing the swords over hand and under, "I can juggle with them. I can also perform various dances with them, and, blunted, they're rather good for all sorts of plays and pantomimes."


"I'm Sarde of House Dres, by the way. Good to meet you, kinsman. Well, I have not truly met you until I know your name, yes?"

OOC: That's fine, CM, and everyone else is allowed to do it, as long as it's nothing too out of the ordinary. CM has picked up on Anaya's reluctance to look people in the face and her timidness and has gone along with it, which is fine. Taking control for the sake of cutting out time is totally cool.



Anaya


The Dunmer woman pursed her lips in thought.

"I would very much like to get out of here...but Madame Belladonna has forbidden consorting with guests. But..." She gulped and dared to look at Aranios in the eye for a brief second. "If it pleases you, I will do my best without going against my mistress' wishes."

The clock rank six times, and Anaya jumped in surprise. "Six bells?! Oh no! She'll skin me alive!" Anaya hurried off into the hallway, let let out a shriek.


----




Angelina and Selvia

"This is Enarvy," Angelina said to Sarde, putting a hand on the older mer's shoulder lightly. She gave it a gentle squeeze and smiled up at him before looking over to Sarde.

"You're a bard? And you juggle? How wonderful! I'm much too clumsy to juggle."

Selvia was studying everyone in the room with an intense gaze. Her nose twitched once, then she swept out of the room without a word, passing by Jeanstar, Percival and Boots as she went downstairs. She stopped, then turned to Percival and Boots. She stared at them both for a brief moment, her deep blue eyes seemingly searching every inch of their clothing, then she turned back around and walked downstairs.

Anaya let out a shriek when Selvia's pale hand gripped her wrist.

"S-Selvia? I mean-" The maid stuttered. Selvia put a light finger on the other woman's lips, shushing her.

"Where is Belladonna?" Selvia asked, loud enough for Aranios to hear.

"Madame is upstairs." Anaya's words had a stiff preciseness to them, her eyes traveling to the open door of the study. Selvia looked in, her face expressionless as she saw Aranios. She gently held the maid's hands in her own.

"I will meet you in your quarters tonight." She said softly. The maid gulped and hurried off into the kitchen.

Well, that could have gone worse. It wasn't idea, but the compromise that Anaya was willing to give him was something. Useful, certainly.

She hurried out, and ran into a red-haired Breton woman who had just appeared out of the study. They exchanged a few quiet words, one which Aranios missed, and the dunmer hurried off.

"Hello there," Aranios said, sauntering out of the room without a trace of guilt or self-consciousness. "Don't think I recognise you. You a latecomer to this little gathering?"