fluffiest_archadian | [OOM] The Amondsham-Telane Wedding.

[OOM] The Amondsham-Telane Wedding.

It is a sorry bunch attending this wedding. The hall in Rabanastre palace where they sit is small, and there are still a handful of empty seats. Still, it's easy to tell who's who:

The garrison command, headed by a grey-haired man who gives off a grandfatherly aura, in their grey and red formal dress, along with a man and a woman dressed similarly, save that their uniform is black and charcoal with red highlights. There's a handful of soldiers who clearly aren't Archadian, too, dressed in blue and cream.

Rabanastre's merchants, dressed in a brightly coloured mismatch of patterned fabrics with hair styled elaborately and jewellery on their wrists and around their necks.

Nobles and ambassadors, by far the smallest of the group, in coloured (but not quite so neon rainbow) silk and wool. Several of them have fans. Most of them are muttering about how Liana is marrying beneath her station (and one so old). One family of four, dressed in canary yellow cloaks fashioned to look like feathers, just look charmed to be there, bar one young man who looks like he's trying to sink into his clothes and avoid the gaze of the garrison.

Business associates of the groom, who if the muttering from others is anything to go by may be celebrities. A few of them are jolly, older people, but most of them look like supermodels who have just stepped off the catwalk.

The wedding is - awkward. A man in very smart clothing with very shiny glasses runs through a set of vows, while the groom (whose shapeless robes really only accentuate the fact that he's about twenty years the senior of his bride) looks apathetic and the bride (of far more fashionable dress) looks distantly scathing, as if she's biting back about a hundred sarcastic comments.

When they are told they may kiss, the peck each other. On the cheeks. Like seagulls whose hearts aren't quite in it.

---

The reception takes place in Rabanastre Palace's expansive ballroom, a room that is opulent and glittering and has walls lined with frescoes depicting the glorious history of Dalmasca in charmingly abstract style.

There is a buffet. It has something very much like turkish delight on one end, but the yellow-cloaked family are converging on it and soon this won't be the case.

Sherral leads his visitors in with the garrison command and their guests.

"No stealing from anyone, no letting on about the magical bar, no killing anyone outside of mutually agreed upon duels," Sherral says. "Apart from that, enjoy yourself. If you see a security concern, Captain Beor," he gestures over at a large man in his twenties, "will no doubt be happy to hear of it."

Beat.

"Have fun."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Aught involving Rabanastre is important enough for that," Sherral says. "By all means. Don't worry, he doesn't bite."

The boy nods, and turns to make his way over to Major Ronick. "Call on me if you find yourself in need of a distracting presence."

"Aye, I will."

Major Ronick is keeping noticeably close to Amondsham - enough of a distance not to intrude, but close enough that he can rush over if necessary, and clocks Autor as he approaches.

He crooks a hand to beckon him closer. "Are you enjoying yourself, young man? I hear the wine is very nice, even if I've no stomach for it anymore."

And frankly, Autor is surprised by the grandfatherly gesture, though he's sure Ronick would tackle him to the floor or gut him if Autor proved a threat.

"I've not the stomach for wine myself, sir," he admits, inclining his head to both of them. "But I do confess I'm having a grand time. Autor, a scholar, at your service. I've come at the invitation of Captain Maduin."

"Ah, yes, the garrison's many spare invitations," Ronick says, with some amusement. "I should make sure to be on my best behaviour with you, then. I suspect Sherral is still at least a little bitter over my handy escape from being best man, I would hardly want to offend him again."

He tilts his head. "What is it you study, Autor?"

"As I'm sure you're aware of, Captain Maduin will undertake any duty given to him, sir," he says, though whether Sherral is justifiably bitter about that duty is unspoken. Then Autor lowers his voice to a conspiratorial level, favoring Ronick with a quick grin. "But between you and me, I suspect he's bored here."

The boy straightens his shoulders at Major Ronick's question. "The effects of Mist on the people of Ivalice, sir," he answers, "but also anything I can come across. If I might ask a question, sir? How goes the campaign to manage the riots in Rabanastre?"

"Oh, I am aware," Ronick chuckles. "When I was his age, I would not have been too interested by such an event either. Nowadays I enjoy a few hours of not having men pester me with reports. And I bring toffees, which makes me extremely popular."

He lifts an eyebrow just slightly at Autor's mention of his field of study. "That might explain how you know Sherral, then." He pauses, and plucks a toffee out of his pocket, unwrapping it carefully. "The ringleaders have been taken to Nalbina. I believe Captain Beor is releasing the majority of those who remain in his gaols, with warnings and marks on their records."

"I approve of this method to make you popular, sir," Autor says, his soft grin widening. "Very wise."

The boy adjusts his glasses, logging away his comment about Sherral. "So it's all taken care of, then. I have heard rumors of another war recently, sir, and I was wondering if you could put them to rest for me."

This is a lie; Autor has heard no such thing.

"Archadia and Rozarria are still at peace, if that's what you mean," Ronick says easily. "We have Rozarrian soldiers mingling amidst our number today, even, peacefully."

"Ah, you mean the soldiers in blue and cream?" Autor asks, and nods. "I'm glad to hear that, sir, thank you. So everything has settled after Lord Vayne has been recalled?"

Ronick's eyes narrow just a shade. "His recall was very unfortunate, as were the unpleasant events that followed. Consul Amondsham is very well-suited for the role, though. I'm certain he'll enjoy many successful years as consul."

Beat.

"Would you like a toffee, young man? I didn't offer before."

And Autor catches that, was counting on it. Interesting.

"Why, thank you, sir," the boy says, inclining his head. "I would appreciate a toffee. And I wish Consul Amondsham luck at his post, and now happiness." Autor gestures around at the wedding.

"If I may ask, how long have you been the commander of the garrison, sir?"

"Since it was formed three years ago," Ronick says, passing over a toffee. "I was at Nalbina when we took it, and when King Raminas was assassinated. At war's end, I requested transfer to the garrison as its commander. It seemed time for a quieter role, after all: I'm not exactly full of youthful energy any more."

Autor unwraps the toffee and pops it into his mouth with a grateful nod. "And has it been a quiet run thus far? As quiet as can be expected, rather."

"Quiet enough," Ronick chuckles. "I have excellent captains under my command, which surely helps."

"I'll be sure to let Captain Maduin know that you think so," the boy says, grinning again. "He told me about the increase in troops that the garrison saw recently. Was that a difficult adjustment?"

"Ah, not too difficult. Our facilities were able to accommodate them, so after a short adjustment period, things settled down quite nicely."

Pause. Tilting his head a little. "I am talking a lot. Tell me about your research."

Oh. Well. Um. That was unexpected, Autor thinks concentrating very hard on sucking on his piece of toffee. And not good.

"Well, we can't necessarily perform tests on people, but we're hoping to run surveys on people learning their Quickenings," Autor begins, and then glances behind the Major. "Ah, my apologies, sir, but I suspect my friend, Captain Maduin, needs my assistance."

The boy bows to him, his hands at his sides.

"Of course. Best not to keep him waiting then. Take a toffee before you go," Ronick says, passing one over cheerfully.

A little way across the room, Sherral apparently detects that he's needed, since he looks towards the two.

Autor takes it with a smile, and bids the grandfatherly man farewell. He strides over to Sherral, and raises a hand.

"I didn't learn anything you likely don't already know. He likes you. He doesn't like Vayne. And Ronick is rather perceptive--nearly shrewd," Autor says. "Toffee?"

Edited 2014-12-18 02:18 (UTC)

"Thank you," Sherral says, taking the toffee and tossing it into his mouth. "I wasn't aware that he disliked Vayne. Although I suppose a lot of people do of late."

"Well, he either dislikes Vayne or the unpleasant circumstances surrounding him, or both," Autor says, shaking his head. The boy curls his hand around his hip. "I hope I didn't get you in trouble. He asked me what I studied, and I said some lie about studying the effect of Mist on people's bodies. He seemed interested in that, so I fled."

Sherral chuckles. "I'll be fine. Don't worry, lad."

"Good," Autor says, inclining his head. "I think I'll talk to the merchants again. Thank you for inviting me to this wedding, Sherral. I'm having a blast."

Edited 2014-12-19 20:00 (UTC)

"I'm glad. Aught kind of merchant you want to talk to? I can likely direct you towards one."

Re: Autor.

Re: Autor.

Re: Autor.

Re: Autor.

Re: Autor.

Re: Autor.

Re: Autor.

Re: Autor.

Re: Autor.

Re: Autor.

Re: Autor.

Re: Autor.

Re: Autor.

Re: Autor.

Re: Autor.

Re: Autor.

Re: Autor.

Re: Autor.

Re: Autor.

Re: Autor.

Re: Autor.

Re: Autor.

Re: Autor.

Re: Autor.

Re: Autor.