Estella was tired.
She couldnât properly recall the last time sheâd had what she would consider a full night of sleep, but she knew she wasnât alone in this. Leon was busier still, and she had no idea if Rilien slept at all, though if he was missing any, he didnât show it. Lady Marceline probably didnât let such nonsense as work get in the way of her health, but even so it was unlikely that she accomplished any less than the rest of them.
The most of it right now was just trying to establish themselves. Before, when the Inquisition had been based at Haven, they hadnât actually done much to root the organization, so to speak. Everyone had assumed that they were there to close the Breach, and once that was done, so would they be. When that proved so utterly false, they were left with few long-term plans, and the ones they had had needed a great deal of work yet. It turned out that on her part, this mostly involved writing letters to send along with Lady Marcelineâs, and doing some of what had been Tanithâs duties, helping Rilien organize intelligence reports until he could find someone he trusted enough with that kind of sensitive information.
And then of course there was answering inquiries directed for her specifically, which she wanted to do as much as possible, and then hearing the various matters that members of the Inquisition wanted brought before her attention. Occasionally there was a dispute, but mostly they just asked her to decide certain things for them, like when the architects had asked her what to do with one of the unused towers they were trying to renovate. Review plans, ask for modifications, try to determine which of many possible purposes would serve the bestâit had occurred to her that the things she was to decide might really matter, in a way that her decisions had never mattered before. It was daunting and overwhelming and terrifying, but she did it as well as she could, leaning heavily on the recommendations of others where she was able.
She knew her fatigue was beginning to show, so sheâd taken steps to conceal it as well as possible, mostly for the sake of appearances, which sheâd been told repeatedly now were often just as important as reality. Estella found it difficult to agree, but⊠if it would help even a little, it was worth doing, and so every morning now included a few minutesâ worth of work to cover the dark circles beneath her eyes, and she tried to remember to dress a little better, though most of the time, she probably failed. It was hard to justify wearing silk and silverite to herself when she still wasnât sure where they were going to get the funds to pay for food the next winter, so she generally elected not to bother.
Now though, they were slowly putting down the roots they wanted, and that meant sheâd received more than one invitation to meet someone sheâd written, usually at a salon or other small, but still relatively public, event. Sheâd blanched the first time, and asked Lady Marceline what to do. Apparently, the answer was: accept, when she had time. But Estella was not a noblewoman, not really, and integrating well into any group of the landed and titled was not something that came to her instinctively.
And if it didnât come to her instinctively, she needed to be taught. Repeatedly and at length.
So theyâd set something up, and she was apparently going to be getting the right kind of lessons from both Lady Marceline and Rilien, which she appreciated, knowing how busy they were, but also dreaded, for obvious reasons. When sheâd expressed her reservations about it all to Khari a few mornings prior, her friend had offered to take the lessons with her, for support if nothing else. Estella wasnât sure exactly why Khari would want to do something like that, or why sheâd need to know any of it, but ultimately she figured it wasnât about thatâit was about helping out a friend, and for that, she was extremely grateful. Somehow, facing this with someone else made it a little more bearable, in theory.
When the two of them entered Lady Marcelineâs office, however, she felt herself growing uncomfortable almost immediately. The center of the area had been cleared, and a small table was set to one side, in what looked like utensils for a full Orlesian many-course meal, sans only the food itself. Commander Lucien had never made her go to anything where dinner was involved, and she had to admit it all looked far too complicated already.
As promised, both Rilien and Marceline were present, the former standing beside the roomâs desk, a wrapped bundle having replaced most of the paperwork thereupon. Marceline was in one corner, seated, with a full-sized harp set against her shoulder. Estella blinked, and her eyes found the last person in the room: Pierre BenoĂźt, Lady Marcelineâs son. He was about fourteen, if she had her guess, dark-haired like both his parents, and clearly much more comfortable here than she was.
Khari stepped into the room behind her, sweeping bright eyes over the whole setup and huffing a soft laugh. âItâs like a dinner party, only without the best part.â She nodded with her chin towards the empty plates. It didnât seem to bother her much, though; her demeanor remained quite sanguine, lacking any of Estellaâs tension at all. The elf hooked arms with her and dragged them both down to the slight recession in which most of the office really lay, bringing them both to stand roughly in the center of the cleared floor.
âAll right everyone. Do your worst.â She grinned easily, jostling Estella in a companionable fashion. âYou can be the noble lady, and Iâll be your knight in shining armor.â
Estella felt a fraction of her unease abate, a smile creeping up her face. âHow chivalrous of you,â she replied dryly.
"Even a knight would know better than to barge toward the table with a lady in arm," Pierre chided Khari. From the corner of the room where Marceline sat, a soft melody began to play from the harp signfying the lesson was beginning. "The chevalier would instead allow the lady to lead them toward the table calmly and politely," he continued, stepping around the table so as to get a better look at them. "Unless, of course, it is crowded. At which point, chivalry dictates that the chevalier would lead her through the crowd," he lectured. It seemed that It wasn't Marceline who was to teach this lesson, but rather, her son.
Now that he was close enough to get a better look at, he was dressed in the colors of his family, black, silver, and with accents of purple. The summer found him in a clothes of lighter make, but still fine. Most apparent, however, was his height. Even at his age, he stood closer to Estella's height, and it was clear he had more yet to grow. In a couple more years, he would most likely stand as tall as his father, who himself stood almost as tall as Lucien. Pierre then gestured toward the pair of spots that had been laid out on the table. Two place cards had been set up, each bearing one of their names written in fine calligraphy. "The chevalier would then kindly pull out the chair for the lady."
Khari blinked at Pierre for a few moments, a poorly-contained snort becoming an exceptionally undignified cluster of boisterous laughter, but she reigned it in more quickly than she usually did, clearly fighting to straighten out her face. âSomeone get Pierre a cane, so he can rap our knuckles when we get it wrong.â The laughter remained in her eyes, even despite the fact that she managed to otherwise smooth her expression to a respectable degree, and she cleared her throat, approaching the setting with at least some dignity and pulling the chair out partway for Estella to sit. Estella thought that it was probably better no one did, else theyâd both walk out with tender hands.
âMilady Inquisitor.â For a moment, she smiled, and it looked like she might lose the battle with her own sense of humor, but in the end she suppressed it, if only just.
Estella smiled herself, resisting the urge to shake her head at the mannerisms which were quite unlike Khari, and remembered that she should probably return with ones that were quite unlike herself⊠though maybe by not quite as much. âMy thanks, messere.â She slid into the chair as gracefully as she could and let Khari ease it closer to the table for her, keeping her hands in her lap until she knew what to do with them.
"In this case, the correct term to refer to the chevalier would be 'Ser'. Were the individual in a higher social standing than yourself, it would, indeed be Messere, but as the Inquisitor, the chevalier remains in a social standing equal to or lesser than yourself, in which the individual should be refered to as Ser." Pierre leaned slightly against the table as he spoke, his arms crossed over his chest. "Were the chevalier also nobility, milord would also be an acceptable honorific, but in this case..." Pierre continued, trailing off with pursed lips. A quick smile lept into his lips for a moment as he winked at Khari, "Ser will do."
Pierre's gaze fell back down to Estella. "We will create cards bearing the aristocratic titles and their appropriate terms of address for you to memorize later. It is... rather complicated to explain in words," He said apologetically.
Actually⊠that might not be a terrible idea. Estella was usually pretty decent at remembering things, so memorizing the distinctions instead of just trying to practice them a lot might be of some help. She nodded slightly. âI know some of those already, thankfully. Commander Lucien always said that if I canât remember exactly what to do, âmilordâ and âmiladyâ work for everyone who isnât royalty, so I guess thatâs what Iâll do if I forget.â She grimaced a bit, but the expression disappeared shortly thereafter.
Her eyes fell to the place setting in front of her, and it almost returned. âAh⊠the only rule I know for this is that utensils are used from the outside in.â She had a feeling it was a great deal more complicated than that.
âUhâŠâ Beside Estella, Khari had already picked up the innermost set of silverware, and now looked back and forth between the two of them with confusion. âWhy wouldnât you use the ones closest to your plate first? Why are there so many anyway? Itâs not like the metal keeps the taste of whatever was on it⊠unless you suck at eating and donât use it right.â She eyed the array of forks and knives with suspicion.
âUnless these extras are for throwing at people who say stupid things at dinner, I donât really get why you need them.â
âThat... would be a very different type of Game," Estella replied wryly. Maybe an improvement, in some respects. At least you could duck a flying fork.
"A look will usually do," Pierre replied. Amusingly, Pierre was shooting Khari a very similar look. "Now, if the chevalier would kindly stop handling the utensil like their sword, we can continue." Though he was quick to quash it, Estella still managed to recognize a wisp of a smile. "Moving on. Yes, Lady Estella, that is the general gist. The utensils have very specific purposes, and once done with, the utensils are taken with the plate they were used with so as not to contaminate the next course, and to also keep the table clean."
With that, Pierre pointed to the outer most fork. "This is your salad fork. Often, it will be chilled so as to not warm the salad," Continuing, he began to gesture down the line. "This is your dinner fork, it is the largest one, and over here," he said, gesturing to the other side of the plate, "You have your soup spoon," he said, starting at the utensil furthest away from the plate. "This is your teaspoon, and this," he finished on the largest knife on the table, "is your dinner knife."
Pierre shrugged, and pointed to the pair of utensils above the plate. "This is your dessert spoon, and your cake fork. Your napkin is over here, he added, pointed to the square cloth next to the forks. "And if used, be sure to fold it back in such a way to hide the dirtiness. We are civilized individuals after all," he added with a quick glance at Khari and another contained smile. "Well. Some of us."
Khariâs eyes snapped to Pierre at that, and she grinned savagely, flashing too many teeth. âYou can teach a wolf to walk and dress like a sheep, kid, but itâs always gonna be a wolf.â She put her knife back down where it belonged, though, and moved her hand along the table to rest briefly at the end of each item, as though she were committing their names to memory.
âOr perhaps a bear,â Estella rejoined, recalling a story sheâd heard about Khariâs favorite chevalier technique. She did much the same as her friend did though, repeating the names of the utensils to herself in her head so as to commit them to memory. Thankfully, she knew how to eat in a way that would count as sufficiently âcivilizedâ for her purposes, so the fact that there was no actual food here wasnât so bad. Nodding slightly, she glanced back up at Pierre.
âHow does one handle conversation at a setting like this? I, um, donât want to presume that anyone would be interested in talking to me, but⊠I suspect there might be a few interested in talking to the Inquisitor. I donât have to stop talking to someone if someone with a better title cuts in, do I?â That sounded unpleasant, but also like it might be a rule.
Pierre shook his head in the negative. "To cut someone off is a serious faux pas no matter the title, not to mention rude. Chances are, those with a higher standing are less likely to cut you off, so as to not appear uncouth." Afterward, Pierre allowed himself a chuckle, "Do not presume, there will always be those who wish to have a conversation with you, for one reason or another." It sounded as if he had experience in the area, as if he had been a part of many of these conversations himself.
âObviously.â Khari looked sideways at Estella, raising an eyebrow. âI mean, letâs be honest here, Stel, even if you werenât the Inquisitor, youâd still be awesome. And super nice. And you have a really cool job.â She ticked the items off on her fingers as she went. âAnd youâre much smarter than most people, and funny. So⊠really Iâd be surprised if you werenât swarmed.â
Estella cleared her throat, not having expected such a response and finding herself surprisingly embarrassed by the praise. Khari wasnât the kind of person whoâd say things from a desire to flatter, and so she presumed that if the elf had said them, she really meant them. She was quite sure her ears were turning red. âThank you,â she said, if only quietly. She didnât believe most of it, exactly, but she believed that Khari believed it, and that was still something important. Though it probably said more about Khari than herself.
In any case, she returned her attention to Pierre and nodded her understanding. âI think that all makes sense,â she told him, somewhat surprised by the result. âIs there anything else we should know?â
"One thing," he said, glancing up and across the room to the corner, where his mother sat style plucking a melody on the harp. "Do not try to put on airs. There are those that do, and while there is no unspoken rule against it, there are those that will respect you more if you simply be yourself," he said, apparently returning a nod to Marceline. Returning to Estella he smiled, "Be polite, be courteous, and be yourself. The nobility adore stories of the kind and humble leader."
âSee? Nothing to worry about. Theyâll love you!â Khari seemed to be a little less serious this time, perhaps because it was still the court they were talking about. It was at that point that Rilien stepped forward slightly and crooked a finger to summon them both to where he was standing. After a brief lesson on how to exit the table, they approached, to find that he was unwinding the bundle heâd set on the desk, which rolled out to cover the whole length.
It proved to be a soft case for over a dozen knives, needles, and other instruments of death and dismemberment, as it were. Most of them were smaller than the ones he typically used, or anything one would trust to a battle proper. âAs distracting as court events can be, you must also always maintain an awareness of your surroundings, and the people around you. That distraction is what makes them opportunities for bards and assassins to ply their trade, and whether you like it or not, you will be a very obvious target.â His eyes moved to Khari.
âAs will you, in fact, though not as much so.â He declined to elaborate, but it wasnât too difficult to guess. Khari had declared her intentions to break into the human-only world of Orlesian knightsâeven if her claims were found to be absurd, there would still be some who would desire to silence her for having the audacity to make the declaration.
Rilien slid a knife from the cloth, still in its sheath, and handed it to Estella. Studying Khari for a moment, he elected to pass her a small bundle of needles. âAttempt to hide these somewhere on your person. I will not look.â True to his word, he turned around and faced the back wall, hands folded into his sleeves.
Estella examined the knife with some trepidation. It wasnât very long, maybe four inches or so of blade and another several for the hilt, but it was still a relatively large object. Her clothes were relaxed in their fit; nothing clung to her skin by any means, but she also wasnât entirely sure that sheâd be able to conceal anything in them. Tugging at a few spots on her tunic experimentally, she grimaced and decided her best option was probably behind her, at the small of her back, and she went about trying to arrange that, hoping that her belt would make the concealment slightly less obvious.
âUhâŠâ Khari seemed even less sure, though her clothing was much looser. After some hesitation, she wound up sliding the needles into her boot, wiggling her foot a couple times in what was surely an attempt to make them sit comfortably. Checking to make sure that Estella was also done, she shrugged. âReady, I guess.â
Rilien turned around, facing them both with a placid expression. Deliberately, he circled them, only once before he came to a stop. âLower back.â That was addressed to Estella. âNot a poor selection, but youâll need to learn to actually conceal it.â Citrine eyes flicked to Khari. âRight boot. Better hidden, but it would have been extremely obvious if youâd had to go for the weapon. If anyoneâs carrying something there, it is probably only for defensive purposes. Or they are unskilled at subterfuge. Either or both.â
He paused a moment, his attention diverting temporarily to Marceline, still playing the harp. âNeither Lady Marceline nor Pierre is wearing any, but both have an idea of where they would, if they felt the need. I am wearing five.â There was certainly no evidence of that claim to be seen, but then considering who and what Rilien was, it wasnât preposterous.
âIt is safest to assume that everyone you meet is armed.â Rilien blinked, shrugging one shoulder, and a dim gleam appeared near his hand as he moved a dagger into his grip. âAnd hostile.â He lunged for Estella.
In that moment, the melody lilting from the harp grew heavy and picked up in tempo as Marceline shifted the tune to better fit in with the sudden fit of activity.
Estella reacted as soon as she saw the glimmer, because it wasnât entirely out-of-character for Rilien to throw things like this at her. Suddenly, the fact that the floor was cleared made a great deal of sense, and Estella sidestepped the initial swing, twisting around to the side on soft feet, reaching back for the only weapon available to her right now: the knife at her back. For all her agility, however, Rilien had more of it, and more precision as well, and he never overcompensated on a miss, meaning heâd be able to take another strike before she could arm herself, and she readied to get out of its way as well as she could, making sure she had enough room on all sides to maneuver. She was useless in a corner, after all.
He did indeed have plenty of opportunity to slash again, but his attempt to do so was interrupted, as Khari finally gained her bearings and charged at him, lowering her shoulder in an effort to carry him to the floor. Rilien dodged the maneuver like it was inconsequential in its entirety, and on her pass, took hold of her shoulder and swept her feet out from underneath her in a smooth motion, redirecting Khariâs momentum and putting her on the floor of the office, prone and spread-eagled.
The move hadnât done anything to him, but it had bought Estella a bit more time.
It was enough that she could free the knife, anyway, and Estella readied it before her. The weapon was shorter than she would have preferred, but Rilien hadnât left her untutored in the use of close weaponry like this, and she knew how to handle it at least. The one thing she could say in her favor was that his blade was also short, and so she wasnât at a significant reach disadvantage or anything. Also, if she could buy enough time for Khari to get off the floor again, then sheâd have an ally.
The next series of exchanges had her hanging on by a threadâRilien was swift, exact, and utterly relentless, as ever. It was a wonder she ever managed to last more than seconds when they sparred, but of course she suspected that was because he took it easy on her so she could learn instead of just losing. She always did both. Estella dodged where she could, and parried where she could not; he hit more heavily than one might expect of someone who used light blades primarily, but then that was normal to her as well. He was slowly backing her towards a corner, and she trying desperately not to let him, but there was a certain inevitability to it.
Khari came in from behind again, this time diving low from the beginning, and though Rilien moved out of her initial grab range, she managed to get a hand around his ankle, forcing him to abandon his effort to back her up and deal with the immediate problem. Khari hadnât managed to disrupt his balance enough to take him to the floor with her, and so his retribution was swift: he twisted, stepping on her back with his other foot, and brought the knife down to rest the flat of it against the side of her neck.
âDead.â The declaration was flat, with no note of triumph, and Khari conceded with a groan, pulling herself back up onto her feet when he stepped off of her. Estella had used the opportunity to move in and go on the offensive, but he bent backwards away from her swipe, taking a few steps back. They were back to being near the center of the room, but Rilienâs tactics shifted, the speed of his movements increasing sharply, and with a heavy strike with the bladeâs hilt to her wrist, he disarmed her, then stepped into her guard, wrapping his free hand around her neck without pressure and pressing the blade to her sternum.
âDead.â He said it more softly the second time, pausing for a moment before he released her and stepped back, as the music from Marceline's harp shifted back to a more gentle melody.
âYou forgot you were armed, but your idea wasnât a bad one. Most dexterous combatants are unprepared for a fight on the ground. Assassins and the like most often rely heavily on the element of surprise and accomplishing what they need to do in as few moves as possible. But this is not true of all of them.â Obviously, it wasnât true of him, for one.
Then he turned to Estella, regarding her flatly. âYou are still your own most dangerous foe.â He didnât elaborate, only shaking his head slightly.
She sighed. He said that a fair bit, of late, and she thought she understood part of what he was getting at, but it wasnât so simple as that. With a wan smile, Estella glanced at Khari. âMaybe we should practice with close weapons in the mornings sometimes.â
âOnly if we get dramatic harp music." Khari arched a brow in Lady Marceline's general direction.
Marceline simply smiled politely and inclined her head slightly into a bow.
She couldnât properly recall the last time sheâd had what she would consider a full night of sleep, but she knew she wasnât alone in this. Leon was busier still, and she had no idea if Rilien slept at all, though if he was missing any, he didnât show it. Lady Marceline probably didnât let such nonsense as work get in the way of her health, but even so it was unlikely that she accomplished any less than the rest of them.
The most of it right now was just trying to establish themselves. Before, when the Inquisition had been based at Haven, they hadnât actually done much to root the organization, so to speak. Everyone had assumed that they were there to close the Breach, and once that was done, so would they be. When that proved so utterly false, they were left with few long-term plans, and the ones they had had needed a great deal of work yet. It turned out that on her part, this mostly involved writing letters to send along with Lady Marcelineâs, and doing some of what had been Tanithâs duties, helping Rilien organize intelligence reports until he could find someone he trusted enough with that kind of sensitive information.
And then of course there was answering inquiries directed for her specifically, which she wanted to do as much as possible, and then hearing the various matters that members of the Inquisition wanted brought before her attention. Occasionally there was a dispute, but mostly they just asked her to decide certain things for them, like when the architects had asked her what to do with one of the unused towers they were trying to renovate. Review plans, ask for modifications, try to determine which of many possible purposes would serve the bestâit had occurred to her that the things she was to decide might really matter, in a way that her decisions had never mattered before. It was daunting and overwhelming and terrifying, but she did it as well as she could, leaning heavily on the recommendations of others where she was able.
She knew her fatigue was beginning to show, so sheâd taken steps to conceal it as well as possible, mostly for the sake of appearances, which sheâd been told repeatedly now were often just as important as reality. Estella found it difficult to agree, but⊠if it would help even a little, it was worth doing, and so every morning now included a few minutesâ worth of work to cover the dark circles beneath her eyes, and she tried to remember to dress a little better, though most of the time, she probably failed. It was hard to justify wearing silk and silverite to herself when she still wasnât sure where they were going to get the funds to pay for food the next winter, so she generally elected not to bother.
Now though, they were slowly putting down the roots they wanted, and that meant sheâd received more than one invitation to meet someone sheâd written, usually at a salon or other small, but still relatively public, event. Sheâd blanched the first time, and asked Lady Marceline what to do. Apparently, the answer was: accept, when she had time. But Estella was not a noblewoman, not really, and integrating well into any group of the landed and titled was not something that came to her instinctively.
And if it didnât come to her instinctively, she needed to be taught. Repeatedly and at length.
So theyâd set something up, and she was apparently going to be getting the right kind of lessons from both Lady Marceline and Rilien, which she appreciated, knowing how busy they were, but also dreaded, for obvious reasons. When sheâd expressed her reservations about it all to Khari a few mornings prior, her friend had offered to take the lessons with her, for support if nothing else. Estella wasnât sure exactly why Khari would want to do something like that, or why sheâd need to know any of it, but ultimately she figured it wasnât about thatâit was about helping out a friend, and for that, she was extremely grateful. Somehow, facing this with someone else made it a little more bearable, in theory.
When the two of them entered Lady Marcelineâs office, however, she felt herself growing uncomfortable almost immediately. The center of the area had been cleared, and a small table was set to one side, in what looked like utensils for a full Orlesian many-course meal, sans only the food itself. Commander Lucien had never made her go to anything where dinner was involved, and she had to admit it all looked far too complicated already.
As promised, both Rilien and Marceline were present, the former standing beside the roomâs desk, a wrapped bundle having replaced most of the paperwork thereupon. Marceline was in one corner, seated, with a full-sized harp set against her shoulder. Estella blinked, and her eyes found the last person in the room: Pierre BenoĂźt, Lady Marcelineâs son. He was about fourteen, if she had her guess, dark-haired like both his parents, and clearly much more comfortable here than she was.
Khari stepped into the room behind her, sweeping bright eyes over the whole setup and huffing a soft laugh. âItâs like a dinner party, only without the best part.â She nodded with her chin towards the empty plates. It didnât seem to bother her much, though; her demeanor remained quite sanguine, lacking any of Estellaâs tension at all. The elf hooked arms with her and dragged them both down to the slight recession in which most of the office really lay, bringing them both to stand roughly in the center of the cleared floor.
âAll right everyone. Do your worst.â She grinned easily, jostling Estella in a companionable fashion. âYou can be the noble lady, and Iâll be your knight in shining armor.â
Estella felt a fraction of her unease abate, a smile creeping up her face. âHow chivalrous of you,â she replied dryly.
"Even a knight would know better than to barge toward the table with a lady in arm," Pierre chided Khari. From the corner of the room where Marceline sat, a soft melody began to play from the harp signfying the lesson was beginning. "The chevalier would instead allow the lady to lead them toward the table calmly and politely," he continued, stepping around the table so as to get a better look at them. "Unless, of course, it is crowded. At which point, chivalry dictates that the chevalier would lead her through the crowd," he lectured. It seemed that It wasn't Marceline who was to teach this lesson, but rather, her son.
Now that he was close enough to get a better look at, he was dressed in the colors of his family, black, silver, and with accents of purple. The summer found him in a clothes of lighter make, but still fine. Most apparent, however, was his height. Even at his age, he stood closer to Estella's height, and it was clear he had more yet to grow. In a couple more years, he would most likely stand as tall as his father, who himself stood almost as tall as Lucien. Pierre then gestured toward the pair of spots that had been laid out on the table. Two place cards had been set up, each bearing one of their names written in fine calligraphy. "The chevalier would then kindly pull out the chair for the lady."
Khari blinked at Pierre for a few moments, a poorly-contained snort becoming an exceptionally undignified cluster of boisterous laughter, but she reigned it in more quickly than she usually did, clearly fighting to straighten out her face. âSomeone get Pierre a cane, so he can rap our knuckles when we get it wrong.â The laughter remained in her eyes, even despite the fact that she managed to otherwise smooth her expression to a respectable degree, and she cleared her throat, approaching the setting with at least some dignity and pulling the chair out partway for Estella to sit. Estella thought that it was probably better no one did, else theyâd both walk out with tender hands.
âMilady Inquisitor.â For a moment, she smiled, and it looked like she might lose the battle with her own sense of humor, but in the end she suppressed it, if only just.
Estella smiled herself, resisting the urge to shake her head at the mannerisms which were quite unlike Khari, and remembered that she should probably return with ones that were quite unlike herself⊠though maybe by not quite as much. âMy thanks, messere.â She slid into the chair as gracefully as she could and let Khari ease it closer to the table for her, keeping her hands in her lap until she knew what to do with them.
"In this case, the correct term to refer to the chevalier would be 'Ser'. Were the individual in a higher social standing than yourself, it would, indeed be Messere, but as the Inquisitor, the chevalier remains in a social standing equal to or lesser than yourself, in which the individual should be refered to as Ser." Pierre leaned slightly against the table as he spoke, his arms crossed over his chest. "Were the chevalier also nobility, milord would also be an acceptable honorific, but in this case..." Pierre continued, trailing off with pursed lips. A quick smile lept into his lips for a moment as he winked at Khari, "Ser will do."
Pierre's gaze fell back down to Estella. "We will create cards bearing the aristocratic titles and their appropriate terms of address for you to memorize later. It is... rather complicated to explain in words," He said apologetically.
Actually⊠that might not be a terrible idea. Estella was usually pretty decent at remembering things, so memorizing the distinctions instead of just trying to practice them a lot might be of some help. She nodded slightly. âI know some of those already, thankfully. Commander Lucien always said that if I canât remember exactly what to do, âmilordâ and âmiladyâ work for everyone who isnât royalty, so I guess thatâs what Iâll do if I forget.â She grimaced a bit, but the expression disappeared shortly thereafter.
Her eyes fell to the place setting in front of her, and it almost returned. âAh⊠the only rule I know for this is that utensils are used from the outside in.â She had a feeling it was a great deal more complicated than that.
âUhâŠâ Beside Estella, Khari had already picked up the innermost set of silverware, and now looked back and forth between the two of them with confusion. âWhy wouldnât you use the ones closest to your plate first? Why are there so many anyway? Itâs not like the metal keeps the taste of whatever was on it⊠unless you suck at eating and donât use it right.â She eyed the array of forks and knives with suspicion.
âUnless these extras are for throwing at people who say stupid things at dinner, I donât really get why you need them.â
âThat... would be a very different type of Game," Estella replied wryly. Maybe an improvement, in some respects. At least you could duck a flying fork.
"A look will usually do," Pierre replied. Amusingly, Pierre was shooting Khari a very similar look. "Now, if the chevalier would kindly stop handling the utensil like their sword, we can continue." Though he was quick to quash it, Estella still managed to recognize a wisp of a smile. "Moving on. Yes, Lady Estella, that is the general gist. The utensils have very specific purposes, and once done with, the utensils are taken with the plate they were used with so as not to contaminate the next course, and to also keep the table clean."
With that, Pierre pointed to the outer most fork. "This is your salad fork. Often, it will be chilled so as to not warm the salad," Continuing, he began to gesture down the line. "This is your dinner fork, it is the largest one, and over here," he said, gesturing to the other side of the plate, "You have your soup spoon," he said, starting at the utensil furthest away from the plate. "This is your teaspoon, and this," he finished on the largest knife on the table, "is your dinner knife."
Pierre shrugged, and pointed to the pair of utensils above the plate. "This is your dessert spoon, and your cake fork. Your napkin is over here, he added, pointed to the square cloth next to the forks. "And if used, be sure to fold it back in such a way to hide the dirtiness. We are civilized individuals after all," he added with a quick glance at Khari and another contained smile. "Well. Some of us."
Khariâs eyes snapped to Pierre at that, and she grinned savagely, flashing too many teeth. âYou can teach a wolf to walk and dress like a sheep, kid, but itâs always gonna be a wolf.â She put her knife back down where it belonged, though, and moved her hand along the table to rest briefly at the end of each item, as though she were committing their names to memory.
âOr perhaps a bear,â Estella rejoined, recalling a story sheâd heard about Khariâs favorite chevalier technique. She did much the same as her friend did though, repeating the names of the utensils to herself in her head so as to commit them to memory. Thankfully, she knew how to eat in a way that would count as sufficiently âcivilizedâ for her purposes, so the fact that there was no actual food here wasnât so bad. Nodding slightly, she glanced back up at Pierre.
âHow does one handle conversation at a setting like this? I, um, donât want to presume that anyone would be interested in talking to me, but⊠I suspect there might be a few interested in talking to the Inquisitor. I donât have to stop talking to someone if someone with a better title cuts in, do I?â That sounded unpleasant, but also like it might be a rule.
Pierre shook his head in the negative. "To cut someone off is a serious faux pas no matter the title, not to mention rude. Chances are, those with a higher standing are less likely to cut you off, so as to not appear uncouth." Afterward, Pierre allowed himself a chuckle, "Do not presume, there will always be those who wish to have a conversation with you, for one reason or another." It sounded as if he had experience in the area, as if he had been a part of many of these conversations himself.
âObviously.â Khari looked sideways at Estella, raising an eyebrow. âI mean, letâs be honest here, Stel, even if you werenât the Inquisitor, youâd still be awesome. And super nice. And you have a really cool job.â She ticked the items off on her fingers as she went. âAnd youâre much smarter than most people, and funny. So⊠really Iâd be surprised if you werenât swarmed.â
Estella cleared her throat, not having expected such a response and finding herself surprisingly embarrassed by the praise. Khari wasnât the kind of person whoâd say things from a desire to flatter, and so she presumed that if the elf had said them, she really meant them. She was quite sure her ears were turning red. âThank you,â she said, if only quietly. She didnât believe most of it, exactly, but she believed that Khari believed it, and that was still something important. Though it probably said more about Khari than herself.
In any case, she returned her attention to Pierre and nodded her understanding. âI think that all makes sense,â she told him, somewhat surprised by the result. âIs there anything else we should know?â
"One thing," he said, glancing up and across the room to the corner, where his mother sat style plucking a melody on the harp. "Do not try to put on airs. There are those that do, and while there is no unspoken rule against it, there are those that will respect you more if you simply be yourself," he said, apparently returning a nod to Marceline. Returning to Estella he smiled, "Be polite, be courteous, and be yourself. The nobility adore stories of the kind and humble leader."
âSee? Nothing to worry about. Theyâll love you!â Khari seemed to be a little less serious this time, perhaps because it was still the court they were talking about. It was at that point that Rilien stepped forward slightly and crooked a finger to summon them both to where he was standing. After a brief lesson on how to exit the table, they approached, to find that he was unwinding the bundle heâd set on the desk, which rolled out to cover the whole length.
It proved to be a soft case for over a dozen knives, needles, and other instruments of death and dismemberment, as it were. Most of them were smaller than the ones he typically used, or anything one would trust to a battle proper. âAs distracting as court events can be, you must also always maintain an awareness of your surroundings, and the people around you. That distraction is what makes them opportunities for bards and assassins to ply their trade, and whether you like it or not, you will be a very obvious target.â His eyes moved to Khari.
âAs will you, in fact, though not as much so.â He declined to elaborate, but it wasnât too difficult to guess. Khari had declared her intentions to break into the human-only world of Orlesian knightsâeven if her claims were found to be absurd, there would still be some who would desire to silence her for having the audacity to make the declaration.
Rilien slid a knife from the cloth, still in its sheath, and handed it to Estella. Studying Khari for a moment, he elected to pass her a small bundle of needles. âAttempt to hide these somewhere on your person. I will not look.â True to his word, he turned around and faced the back wall, hands folded into his sleeves.
Estella examined the knife with some trepidation. It wasnât very long, maybe four inches or so of blade and another several for the hilt, but it was still a relatively large object. Her clothes were relaxed in their fit; nothing clung to her skin by any means, but she also wasnât entirely sure that sheâd be able to conceal anything in them. Tugging at a few spots on her tunic experimentally, she grimaced and decided her best option was probably behind her, at the small of her back, and she went about trying to arrange that, hoping that her belt would make the concealment slightly less obvious.
âUhâŠâ Khari seemed even less sure, though her clothing was much looser. After some hesitation, she wound up sliding the needles into her boot, wiggling her foot a couple times in what was surely an attempt to make them sit comfortably. Checking to make sure that Estella was also done, she shrugged. âReady, I guess.â
Rilien turned around, facing them both with a placid expression. Deliberately, he circled them, only once before he came to a stop. âLower back.â That was addressed to Estella. âNot a poor selection, but youâll need to learn to actually conceal it.â Citrine eyes flicked to Khari. âRight boot. Better hidden, but it would have been extremely obvious if youâd had to go for the weapon. If anyoneâs carrying something there, it is probably only for defensive purposes. Or they are unskilled at subterfuge. Either or both.â
He paused a moment, his attention diverting temporarily to Marceline, still playing the harp. âNeither Lady Marceline nor Pierre is wearing any, but both have an idea of where they would, if they felt the need. I am wearing five.â There was certainly no evidence of that claim to be seen, but then considering who and what Rilien was, it wasnât preposterous.
âIt is safest to assume that everyone you meet is armed.â Rilien blinked, shrugging one shoulder, and a dim gleam appeared near his hand as he moved a dagger into his grip. âAnd hostile.â He lunged for Estella.
In that moment, the melody lilting from the harp grew heavy and picked up in tempo as Marceline shifted the tune to better fit in with the sudden fit of activity.
Estella reacted as soon as she saw the glimmer, because it wasnât entirely out-of-character for Rilien to throw things like this at her. Suddenly, the fact that the floor was cleared made a great deal of sense, and Estella sidestepped the initial swing, twisting around to the side on soft feet, reaching back for the only weapon available to her right now: the knife at her back. For all her agility, however, Rilien had more of it, and more precision as well, and he never overcompensated on a miss, meaning heâd be able to take another strike before she could arm herself, and she readied to get out of its way as well as she could, making sure she had enough room on all sides to maneuver. She was useless in a corner, after all.
He did indeed have plenty of opportunity to slash again, but his attempt to do so was interrupted, as Khari finally gained her bearings and charged at him, lowering her shoulder in an effort to carry him to the floor. Rilien dodged the maneuver like it was inconsequential in its entirety, and on her pass, took hold of her shoulder and swept her feet out from underneath her in a smooth motion, redirecting Khariâs momentum and putting her on the floor of the office, prone and spread-eagled.
The move hadnât done anything to him, but it had bought Estella a bit more time.
It was enough that she could free the knife, anyway, and Estella readied it before her. The weapon was shorter than she would have preferred, but Rilien hadnât left her untutored in the use of close weaponry like this, and she knew how to handle it at least. The one thing she could say in her favor was that his blade was also short, and so she wasnât at a significant reach disadvantage or anything. Also, if she could buy enough time for Khari to get off the floor again, then sheâd have an ally.
The next series of exchanges had her hanging on by a threadâRilien was swift, exact, and utterly relentless, as ever. It was a wonder she ever managed to last more than seconds when they sparred, but of course she suspected that was because he took it easy on her so she could learn instead of just losing. She always did both. Estella dodged where she could, and parried where she could not; he hit more heavily than one might expect of someone who used light blades primarily, but then that was normal to her as well. He was slowly backing her towards a corner, and she trying desperately not to let him, but there was a certain inevitability to it.
Khari came in from behind again, this time diving low from the beginning, and though Rilien moved out of her initial grab range, she managed to get a hand around his ankle, forcing him to abandon his effort to back her up and deal with the immediate problem. Khari hadnât managed to disrupt his balance enough to take him to the floor with her, and so his retribution was swift: he twisted, stepping on her back with his other foot, and brought the knife down to rest the flat of it against the side of her neck.
âDead.â The declaration was flat, with no note of triumph, and Khari conceded with a groan, pulling herself back up onto her feet when he stepped off of her. Estella had used the opportunity to move in and go on the offensive, but he bent backwards away from her swipe, taking a few steps back. They were back to being near the center of the room, but Rilienâs tactics shifted, the speed of his movements increasing sharply, and with a heavy strike with the bladeâs hilt to her wrist, he disarmed her, then stepped into her guard, wrapping his free hand around her neck without pressure and pressing the blade to her sternum.
âDead.â He said it more softly the second time, pausing for a moment before he released her and stepped back, as the music from Marceline's harp shifted back to a more gentle melody.
âYou forgot you were armed, but your idea wasnât a bad one. Most dexterous combatants are unprepared for a fight on the ground. Assassins and the like most often rely heavily on the element of surprise and accomplishing what they need to do in as few moves as possible. But this is not true of all of them.â Obviously, it wasnât true of him, for one.
Then he turned to Estella, regarding her flatly. âYou are still your own most dangerous foe.â He didnât elaborate, only shaking his head slightly.
She sighed. He said that a fair bit, of late, and she thought she understood part of what he was getting at, but it wasnât so simple as that. With a wan smile, Estella glanced at Khari. âMaybe we should practice with close weapons in the mornings sometimes.â
âOnly if we get dramatic harp music." Khari arched a brow in Lady Marceline's general direction.
Marceline simply smiled politely and inclined her head slightly into a bow.