In the heart of Prasus there is a mansion ancient baroque and large enough to house a thousand, from atop that mansion protrudes a tower growing like an ancient marble tree, at the very peak of the tower sits a room wide dark and airy and in that room, there is a desk.
It is a good desk, strong and stable and carved from wood that is nearly black with age and varnish, proper hardwood too brought in from the forests of Atylia, none of that cheap Earln wood that you can just fish out of the sea. Worth more than a trade galleon all on its own it had suffered much during its centuries of service and it was covered in scrapes, scratches and cup shaped stains. One of the legs had been nailed back on and the varnish on one corner had bubbled when a candle had fallen over but all in all it was a very good desk.
However all of this, from the beauty to the battle scarring, was rather hard to notice because it was buried under a veritable snow drift of paperwork of every kind imaginable. There were rolls of scrawled scrolls, piles of loose letters, a small mountain range formed from the spines of heavy leather bound books, deep drifts of ripped envelopes and loose leaf pages, reams of papyrus covered in foreign pictograms and what looked like an entire reel of golem behaviour punch cards with a large note attached that read “Property of the Church of the Divine Mechanisms - DO - NOT - TOUCH”.
All in all the desk looks like it’s been caught in the middle of a bibliographic blizzard, however this doesn’t seem to bother the room’s single occupant. She sits now at the desk on a plush leather wingback chair. What can I say about her? She is beautiful and poised, her every action smooth and refined. Her hair falls just so, her large round eyes are filled with the light of intelligence. Her lips are ever ready to smile and her skin is like fairest marble. All in all she is the very picture of a Prasian noblewoman. She sits comfortably in her office enjoying the aroma of a cup of perfectly brewed tea that steamed on her desk, reaching out she... I lifted the cup to my lips and took a long drink whilst scanning the page I held in my other hand, my magisterial expression never once wavering (I’d have gone with haughty or catty myself)[34].
The same old boring information flooded into my tower day after day. My little rats across the city were happily chattering to me but mostly it was idle squeaking, nothing actionable. A lordling with an interesting vice here, a young lady in common company there and of course noble houses plotting just about everywhere. It was enough to keep me ticking over, like an idling war golem, but nothing that I needed to act on, nothing to excite me. Being the Intelligencer of a noble family was an honourable role and rather more importantly one that gives you nearly limitless power and responsibility. As the shadowed fist of the dynasty you are what the other houses fear.... but to be honest it's mostly just waiting for other people to start running the rat race then betting when you know the winner. Sometimes you have to ensure a winner with cheese, or poison, both serve when used correctly.
As you can tell I was in an introspective mood, bored and oddly fatigued by the lack of anything fatiguing to do when fate in general, and more specifically a family servant, knocked on my door. I looked up immediately with a hungry cast to my eyes, now someone knocking on my door wasn’t strange by any means. Twenty odd people had been in and out of my tower in the last hour alone! No it was the knock itself that dragged my attention, it was quiet and irregular, stuttering almost, it was the knock of someone who secretly wishes that they wouldn't be heard.
I strode across the room and flung the door open one handed. The man beyond confirmed my suspicions by jumping backwards and cowering away from me.
“M... Lady Lanin... I... I have a message for you.” He stuttered holding an envelope out in front of him like a shield.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
I wanted to snatch it out of his hands but I held myself back, etiquette is very after all important... and don't listen to Blood when she says otherwise. (Do listen to me, you'll have so much more fun!)
“What is it?” I asked, keeping my voice carefully level, I could feel the miasma of my mind receding already as schemes and plots began forming before my mind’s eye.
“I do not know ladyship,” he said cowering before me. “I of course would never read an intelligencer's letters but... but your father was... very angry when he handed it to me.”
I nearly smiled at that, me smiling, can you believe it? (Yes and even though it took us years to find out she has a really cute smile)[35] Forcing my lips back together I extended a hand for the letter and dismissed him. He vanished with every sign of relief back into the depths of the house as I stalked back to my desk. Falling into my chair I ripped open the off white envelope and smoothed it out on the upper strata of my paperwork mountains. My air of confidence and zeal became one of bemusement as I realised it was a page from a diary.
“I have finally found them! The carnival of Velvet Shadows! They who it is claimed dance in every ball, whisper in every assembly and vote on every law. The kingmakers themselves have said I am worthy of joining them! They even say that I might one day be made into Arch-Doge just as they made that fool Fabien Barden into the lord of Prasus! Soon I will be recognised for my brilliance and receive the reward that is my due! I will be the lord of my house!! The lord of the whole city!!! And all I had to do was burn down a few slum blocks. I didn't do it personally of course, how barbaric, that's why we have guardsmen. Just the next day I received my invitation and today I shall be hosting my first meeting where they shall fully confirm me as one of them! Soon enough the whole house... no the whole world will be at my feet! ”
I sighed deeply, the page was stolen, according to the signature at the bottom (yes he was that stupid), from Lord Francis Lanin’s diary and as you might guess from the surname we are related, cousins in fact. He was a great patron of the arts, champion horse rider, one of the most eligible bachelors in Prasus and....just going by the number of exclamation marks he uses in his diary, he was also so far around the bend he couldn't see it with a telescope.
If the ludicrous punctuation wasn't damming enough evidence anyone who fell for the Carnival of Velvet Shadows spiel was definitely crazy. As an intelligencer part of my job was to keep watch over the cults, crazies and killers that prowled the dark side of the city. Some of these were seriously big fish in the city's social scene, powerhouses with high stakes connections in the houses and the patronage of incredibly powerful individuals... The Carnival of Velvet Shadows was not one of these. Despite its lofty claims it was only six eons old and possessed barely any power or influence probably because it had been founded by a greengrocer. It wasn’t the first cult to claim to be behind the Arch-Doges rise to power and it wouldn't be the last.
After reading, I noticed that hanging from the stolen page was a small note written in a smooth flowing script and stamped with our house seal. (A pair of ridiculously fat sea lions which she genuinely thinks are cool[36]).
“Your cousin is in over his head.
He has shamed our house.
Deal with him.
-Lord Lanin.”
Well it looks like father had given me a target, the house's shadows were mine to command and most importantly mine to police, when the shadows of my house began to creep where they weren’t wanted I was the one who cut them back. My cousin had broken the rules of etiquette that were the only thing that kept the nobility from spilling enough blood to stain the sea red. And that meant he had to be removed, quickly and quietly.
I smiled to myself and walked over to my side table picking up and strapping on my sheathed sword before slipping my mask into its designated inner pocket... finally time for some fresh air.