Scene #9269: BB Supports: Nobles Obliged

Owner	Pose
Rita Ma	AQULEIA, CAPITAL OF ETRURIA In the palace's airy halls. In the courtyard where you'd fought General Douglas, not a drop of blood or cracked flagstone remains. Only the roses in a side-bed, smashed and snapped where a body fell upon them, keep the score. The crisp-dressed servants don't know you by name, but they seem to figure anyone unusual-looking enough must be the Otherworlders they've been told about, and so politely usher you along through greenery-surrounded white-marble hallways. (Petra, Audrey, and Odette might get odd looks if they succeed at dressing too native- are they sure they aren't just local scamps trying to slip in? Lilian is Distinguished and Known enough to not suffer this problem.) Early arrivals might overhear Cecilia scolding General Perceval about something-or-other in coworkerly fashion, and might bump into Echidna and Larum on their way out, having taken one more chance to talk to their former ward the prince-in-disguise. For those arriving on time or later, though, everything's in order: a small group is convened in a second-story room that overlooks the gardens through open windows, letting in the spring breeze. A long dark-wood table menaces with black milk-teas and fluffy pastries. Near its head, Cecilia and Perceval haw over the minutiae of a grim-looking map. Guinivere sits next to an uneasily pastry-abstaining Roy by the foot, animatedly talking to a mysterious cloaked figure who matches her vibe exactly while her bodyguard Melady zones out. In the corner, Douglas- still looking a bit worse for wear- nurses a glass of wine. "Oh! Glad you could make it. Here, I'm telling you- Perceval, that is not where Arcadia was. "Does it really matter? They're hardly military relevant-" "It might matter." "You draw it next time, then." "Lilian! Everyone!" says Guinivere, showing clear favoritism with her peppy wave. Douglas's wave is less enthusiastic, or maybe just impaired. "Do come in. Melady claims she's full, so I need someone else to poison-taste pastries for me." BGM: https://youtu.be/gxlXcchmiUU MAP: https://i.imgur.com/Aq38Bsm.jpeg
Riku Asakura	Riku stands out in these lands, wearing a jean jacket with an orange shirt underneath it. Also wearing a pair of jeans and sneakers on his feet, makes him stand out here, but not in a more modern city. Unfortunately, he wasn't in a modern city, or at least, not modern in his world's views. Though he's used to standing out at this point, he doesn't mind it too much, especially when he uses his powers to grow large. "Hello!" he offers back to Guinivere, and she offers pastries and tea. Looking over the pastries and milk tea, Riku bows to greet everyone before picking up a pastry and tea himself. He nearly devours the pastry whole, having quite a veracious appetite, due to his body constantly changing sizes and transforming. He seldom turns down food offered to him, and today was no exception. "I heard there was a meeting to take place about strategy. I don't know how much I can help with that, but I'll try."
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Madeleine's in good shape and good spirits today. She carries herself like she's almost forgotten about her curse - but the subtle movements on her head suggest her eyes would be all over the place if you could tell where they were pointed, as if something might leap out of the wall at her. Technically possible! Regardless, she sits near the foot of the table, next to the cloaked figure. Birds of a shady feather? The huntress picks a couple pastries out of the selection, a jam tart and a sort of cream puff, and is finished with the former by the time everyone's arrived. Her posture around the figure next to her is a little protective; she must be assuming that's Myrddin, without looking more closely than would be polite.
Audrey Basque	Audrey was extremely excited for this second trip to Elibe. Not just because the first had been such a blast (blood and mud aside), but also because Petra had picked her a nice outfit, that she then spent a night up with her and Angela tuning with her usual foci. Which also gave the outfit just a bit of an extra flair, in the right lighting. And so Audrey, who normally wears her hair in two big curls, even took the time to let her hair down completely to complement the outfit, which is a high collared, buttoned up, mid-sleeved white blouse, a night sky blue skirt that goes down a bit past her knees, dark brown era-appropriate boots with entirely too much shoelace real estate and just very slight heels, and an also night sky blue cloak, clasped in front of her collar by strings. When she walks into shade, the dark blue fabric of both the cloak and the skirt seem to have sparkling stars on them, even constellation lines, accurate to the local sky-- and the inside of the cloak is much more pronounced in this effect. She had met up with Petra at the Warpgate and traveled from there; she was getting a bit more used to this travel thing, slowly, but in this case it wasn't even a bit of a problem. The lush green landscape and the sight of Aquleia is enough to imbus vigor back into her legs if the need be. She'd stopped a few times-- if something caught her attention, or maybe it was a stall with authentic period food. She'd even come with the means to get some local currency too, after last time! She was taking it very seriously. This was a very different kind of meeting from last time, though-- and they're getting looks? This wasn't a slow day off, it was a military meeting outright. She had to contain herself a bit, once inside the palace, to not look like a gushing tourist. She falls respectfully silent once in the assigned room, recognizing a few of the faces only-- even then, she'd not spoken to any. Are they arguing over the map? P-Poison-tasting, though? "I--" It's got to be a joke. Certainly it's a joke. Audrey holds a pastry and eyes it intensely. "T-Thank you!" She turns to Petra ever so slightly to whisper something.
Lilian Rook	It's so hard. Being a normal-looking human being. Not sticking out like a sore thumb. Having such a vanilla racial template. Lilian has to work ten times as hard as anyone else to earn her name and face recognition. And it's such honest work. Truly it must be so difficult for anyone else to understand the trials of being gorgeous and athletic and exuding a commanding presence and having a cool scar, as a mere hyoo-mon. It's such a mark of Elibe's high quality people, that they can remember her as an exotic Otherworlder, and not just another boring hypertalented noble . . . Oh. There's Guinivere. Now she knows full well what's going on here. "My my. You do put her to work." says Lilian, already scanning around for Melady to see how commiserating she should look. "Well, if it's to be my turn, who am I to say no to the Princess' demands to be filled up next?" After this amount of time, Lilian has finally recuperated to a 'normal' amount of worn down. Which is to say, enough to dress properly and put on her makeup all the way through, simply without the finer touches or any experimental flourishes, and move around in a semi-fluid fashion, without obviously limping and without visible bandages. She doesn't reek of smoke, either. But the mantle of fatigue and disarray isn't quite so easy to shed, bleeding through in the ginger and halting way she takes her seat, and the quiet shake to pouring her tea; she seems like she could use a bucket of pastries. "May I kindly know the name of your friend?" Lilian says to Guinivere, though she is only just barely torn on wheher she dares skip ahead and read their mind instead, narrowly deciding that a lapse of discipline right now, in her current state, is too plausible. She'll just take a big sip of tea instead.
Flamel Parsons	Flamel has that perfect mix of clothing that makes him seem just foreign enough to be from some other part of Elibe but not so foreign that he seems like he's from somewhere outside the continent -- a precise mix of medieval MIB (acolyte of a mysterious order) and professional traveller, which leaves him always looking like he's freshly come in from something several hundred kilometers away, but not any one particular place. "Thank goodness Arcadia's a tough one to pin down on a map, I'd hate the alternative. Hey, everyone!" Flamel's energy has finally more recovered from Hell Week and he's back to moving in a more bright, energized way. "Let me take a crack at a pastry or two. I'm no gastronaut, but I am vulnerable to poisons!" He takes one up and bites into things, in more senses than one. An eye drags over the mysterious cloaked figure, but he figures other people are about to get to that. "A counterattack... we definitely can't afford to lose even a little bit of momentum. Let's go after them, who knows what they're doing over there! What do we know so far about their territory, at least? And what's the state of Lycia? I feel like, at this rate, they can't have been harassing it too much while we were running around the globe, we have to have taken up too much attention!"
Odette Raskins	Fortunately for Odette, she might actually avoid odd looks today! Maybe. She's still lugging around her Company-standard duffel bag as she does. Having heard that she's going to be meeting the Prince again today, however, means she's putting on her formal best! Or the best she could get on short notice, which really just means wearing an pink cardigan over a white top and navy knee-length skirt with a gold loop design on the sides that looks vaguely like a turtle shell. These may or may not have been chosen as least adventurer-y and worker-y things she had that also wouldn't be repeating the same outfits she's worn before. Or maybe she'll gets lots of weird looks, because the duffel bag really doesn't fit the rest of her outfit all that well. Odette's there early, of course, and she dips back behind where she came from when she first hears Cecilia scolding Perceval. After realizing that she's not the one being scolded, though, she comes back out, greeting them with a friendly wave and a chipper "Hello!" followed by nudging her glasses (fully circular) back up onto her face. She looks really excited to see Cecilia, too, although she's not sure how to bring up the good news. Her tongue still hurts from biting it the last time she was here. Upon meeting the full group on the second story, Odette's face brightens up a little more, and she even looks intrigued by the mysterious cloaked figure. "Thank you for inviting us all. Oh, Arcadia was..." She trails off as she heads over to check out the map first, staring at it blankly for several second before backing away again in quiet shame. "Well.. I'm sure we'll be able to find it again if we... Er. Really need to. Maybe it's even better that we don't identify where it is now, in case.. .Um." Odette taps her chin. "In case someone gets a hold of the map? Anyway.. Um. Is this a new ally, or a...?" She fumbles with the word briefly as she looks over to the mysterious figure again, eventually snapping her fingers once she gets it. "Bodyguard? Retainer?" "Poison-testing? Oh. don't worry, I've got something for that." Ever ready for anything, Odette slips two injector-pens out of her bag, holding onto them with one hand while going right for the stated pastries. She doesn't even seem worried about what poisons might be in them, either, as she picks one up (something fruity) and takes a quick nibble out of it. Odette's likely to finish that thing within the next few seconds, though, because she really likes Aquleia's pastries. She still hasn't figured out how to replicate them yet.
Petra Soroka	Petra might succeed at dressing local in isolation-- though her outfit is specifically and intentionally protagonist-coded even despite having constructed it out of a local shopping trip-- but she's not arriving alone. Yesterday, after hastily leaving the Sundew Kingdom as soon as she could, she went back to the Library and spent the night there rather than in some gross forest somewhere, so it's with a relatively fresh appearance that she makes the walk through the city from the warpgate with Audrey. Audrey's magical star-shifting robe probably looks mystically relevant enough to make the pair pass as reasonably important, if not as memorable as Lilian, and so Petra, dressed as she is beside her, must look.... Well, there's no way around it, really. She and Audrey had joked about it last time, but with Petra's cloak and sword and obviously more combat-oriented demeanor, she does look like the sworn knight of the magically-inclined noblewoman beside her. And it's one thing for Petra to feel at least mostly confident with 'dressing up' on her own, but doing it in a pair is... cute, but also embarrassing! Of course she looks good! But wearing more clothing is a higher expression of vulnerability and not a lower one! It is, whether she admits it or not, a demonstration of a certain kind of feeling and preferential role, made especially readable by the thoroughness she put into tone-matching the environment! And so Petra's just a tiny bit skittish on the walk. Hands laced behind her head, she slightly awkwardly accompanies Audrey along her excited darting around food stands and other distractions, enriched but engaged in an internal war to convince herself that clothing is nothing in particular to feel weird about. Like, it's normal to do this. She went on a shopping trip with Sophia and Sophia approved. Considering the way Petra's brain works, it's even a tactical benefit, for enabling her to better fit the function demanded of her by the war by painting her in the correct colors. But then also she's now a noble knight escorting a lady around town. "Hi, Lady Guinivere. Hi, Cecilia, Roy. Hey, everyone." Petra's favoritism, when she waves, isn't for the same reasons as Guinivere's-- it's just about narrative importance! Perceval and Douglas are less important to her by nature of being less important to the story of the war, and also, unrelatedly probably, men. "Melady claims she's full, so I need someone else to poison-taste pastries for me." Petra is briefly engaged in a short back and forth with Audrey, and then resolutely picks up a pastry to bite into it before Audrey has hers. Obviously it's not really poisoned, Petra is approximately ninety percent sure. It's more about the vibe of it than anything, and Guinivere seems like she'd be enriched by everyone eating the treats too. "So we're thinking about next steps, right? With Etruria and the Western Isles handled... is there anywhere else we'd have to deal with first before making a push into Bern?"
Rita Ma	Her posture around the figure next to her is a little protective... "Is this a new ally, or a...?" "May I kindly know the name of your friend?" "I think you already do!" "Ah, I'm very sorry," says a lowered, familiarly melodic voice once the servants have departed. Long blonde hair spills from the hood as the mysterious figure twists around, revealing that serene eyes-shut face. It's Elffin, the mysterious bard! Wait, no, Prince Myrddin! "There are those around the castle who might still know my face, you see. And if I were to be kidnapped or killed, we'd be right back in this mess. Not to impugn Perceval's protection--" "Of course, my prince." "--Now, now, I'm only a humble bard." "Urk." "... But it's likely best to keep my return a rumor, not a fact." From Douglas, still a bit drained: "That's so. As much as I might like a triumphant return, I don't like it as much as I'd hate a repeat." The way Myrddin's eyelid tenses at Madeleine, without ever actually opening to close, resembles a wink. Melady's smile for Lilian, only slightly strained, is comfortably hapless. "I wouldn't say I'm being worked hard. I just don't have much of a sweet tooth." "Nonsense. You've loved these treats for years, Melady." "Be that as it may, my lady, as your attendant, I must..." "You worry about your figure too much! It isn't as though you're riding a pegasus." "My lady, nine cream-puffs was quite enough." "Hmmm. Well, Lilian! Flamel! These gooseberry ones..." She's trying to feed them like a dog on its birthday. At one point she wiggles a pastry to make it seem more enticing, like a frozen mouse. It does gradually become apparent that Guinivere is trying to lift the mood because of her own pervasive, low-grade stress, exceeding that of the Etrurians present.
Rita Ma	When Petra and Flamel get proactive with the questions, Roy looks to Cecilia, but Cecilia nods back at him: "Why don't you review the material for them, Roy? I know you've been attentive." Pedagogy! He shifts and straightens up in his seat, then reconsiders, and walks to the map while apologetically squishing by the generals. "Right. Ah..." He hesitates, then taps the map with his finger where Lycia and Bern meet, back turned to the table. "Apart from some minor border conflicts and Galle's retreat to Ilia, Bern has been totally motionless for the last month. Lycia is secure as Etruria's ally, except for skirmishes near Araphen." There's a note of suppressed relief in his voice: Pherae, his home, is safe for now. "To look on the bright side, I could say they've run out of new traitors to reveal. On the less-bright side... Zephiel seems very happy to let this stalemate go on." His finger wanders to the heart of Bern, and tap-taps. "The more time that passes, the more Bern can consolidate its hold over Ilia and Sacae. Already they're drawing auxiliaries from those countries. Then there's Iðunn, who we have to guess is making new shadow-dragons every day; and the gradual shifts in Elibe's magic, which can only benefit her. They have no reason to risk an offensive now when they can wait and build an insurmountable advantage." "Unfortunately..." Tense little sigh, drawing lines from Etruria through Lycia to Bern. "A direct invasion of Bern isn't likely to work right now. Their soldiers are concentrated, the mountain ranges' chokepoints work against us, and with Etruria's forces weakened by the civil war, they outnumber us three-to-two." "... Um. Was all of that right, Cecilia?" "Well done, Roy!" "Ah... thank you. The plan I've proposed is to move against Ilia and Sacae, rally local resistance against Bern, and hopefully either liberate them or draw Bern into over-committing to their occupation. Then it might be weakened enough."
Flamel Parsons	"I'm genuinely concerned about the fact that I think that woman really can just make new dragons every day." Flamel says, nodding repeatedly. "Not that I think there's a day-to-dragon correlation. If I had to guess, it's probably easier to do at certain times, or drains a resource that refreshes in certain ways... but she really doesn't seem like someone who's going to have the same issues an average person would have with spending twelve hours a day on only dragon-craft." He spreads his own gleaming psychic markers all throughout the map. Both the trail they've followed, and elsewhere. "The sheer volume of military-age military-capable people built up by a thousand years of peace is burning through the population of combatants," He rambles, lighting the paper with soft red, heatmaps of mass death. "And turning this into what I could only really call a kind of mega-attrition situation. That's not good for us, you know, when they have this source of unlimited clones of combat-ready minds. Not to mention the bodies! You're right, they're happy to let the stalemate happen -- what they have is a huge psychic advantage, not just a martial one." He snaps and dismisses the heatmap. "I definitely think that's a good approach. Ilia and Sacae are definitely our best bets. There's no way to make any progress on getting to the Binding Blade for my other main tactical needs, the way things are... so we'll aim for getting border access to Bern from more angles, and that'll help me later!"
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Madeleine folds her hands in front of her as Roy explains the political situation. "There's really two questions, I think," she begins when she gets a chance, "and those are: What should you be doing with your armies, and what should we be doing?" With that 'we' she gestures at the other gathered Elites. "Now, those might be the same thing, but they may not have to be. Here's my reckoning." Deep breath. Stand up. Strategy time. "Zephiel has a trump card in Iðunn. The threat she presents stopped us dead when we cornered them under this castle, and he knows he can do that again. So I think, we do what they can't: be in two places at once. There's, what, a good ten Elites fighting the good fight here, and I think together we make for a great deal of easily portable strength. If we can harry Ilia and Sacae at once, enough to keep them on their toes and uncertain where us Otherworlders will next be committed, that could force them to spread thin enough for us to really capitalize." "On the other hand, if we have to pick one target... I think it should be Sacae. We break the chain in the middle, force Murdock and Galle to hunker down in Ilia or for Bern to send them reinforcements and supply by sea. If we can take Reni here first-" -she points to the city at the far west of Ilia- "-they'd have a devil of a time pushing back out of Ilia without additional support from Bern - support we could interfere with, if it's sent at all. They might have enough wyverns to raid across the mountains but there's no way they could march an army on foot through that dense of a range before we could react." "So, if I had to put it together - us Otherworlders could lead a force sufficient to take Reni, while the bulk of your armies move into Sacae for us to join once the Etrurian-Ilian border is secure." That cream puff sits untouched, its claimant throughly engrossed in matters of war. The poor pastry...
Audrey Basque	Audrey now has faces to go with names! At least for Guinevere, Cecilia and Roy. And one of the extra people is-- a prince? No, a bard. She might not know much yet but she can catch the vibe well enough, especially in war-time. Her earpiece buzzes, and she becomes flustered, looking at Melady with all the looks of a deer caught in headlights. She debates what she should say-- IF she should even say anything. "I-- H-Hello." She clears her throat. "I am Audrey Basque, and I wish to assure you this is not like that. She is--" She almost says escorting. She catches that, getting a bit more red. "Helping me get acquainted with the area." She tries her best to then turn and focus on the map, as Roy gives a lecture on the current state of things. She grasps the rough lines-- stalemate, occupied kingdoms, someone sitting on magical resources and making dragons??, and the need to not keep sitting still and letting things escalate on the enemy's terms. Even though there aren't many options. She takes a bite of her pastry, finally. "Excuse me, but... shadow-dragons? Shifts in magic?"
Lilian Rook	Lilian, amidst tea, reacts to 'Elffin's' appearance with-- well, no she doesn't comedically spit it out in surprise in the middle of a big long sip actually. That's the single most appropriate answer to who could be here in shadowy robes and all; and that comedy act is beneath her anyways! She calmly sets her cup down, and says "Thank goodness. It's been all too long since I've heard words as reassuring as 'let's not have everything we just did end up not mattering'." 'You worry about your figure too much! It isn't as though you're riding a pegasus' 'My lady, nine cream-puffs was quite enough.' "Now that's a familiar tune." Lilian says, gravely. The way she trades understanding glances with Melady is, technically, woefully inappropriate, given what she's implying, but Lilian doesn't really think about it. "My advice is to have a contingency in place for the day her highness decides to try on baking." she says, nodding solemnly, then incidentally taking a pre-wiggled gooseberry tart. Given the stae of affairs, it wouldn't do to snub the bit right now. That's probably it. Probably. 'Apart from some minor border conflicts and Galle's retreat to Ilia, Bern has been totally motionless for the last month.' "I'm glad to hear it. I'm also worried to hear as much." Lilian says, shuffling in her seat and sitting forward. "The proliferation of war-dragons is what I'm most worried about. Our path through them is clear; by collecting every single divine weapon that we can; but even then, they're excessively, cheat-level powerful for a mass-produced enemy. Auxiliary troops will end up distributed throughout Bern's overarching military presence, but the dragons will be concentrate around exactly where we need to go. Whilst I find the idea of turning our three-to-two into a three-to-five reassuring, as it not just robs them of additional troops, but spreads their more veteran combat corps thin-- including the dragons-- I'd feel remiss if I didn't remind you that . . ." Lilian takes a deep breath. Rather than bracing her, it feels leaden and numbing in her lungs instead. A faint sense of unexpected dizziness suffuses her next words. "We would, and perhaps will, be rallying people for the purposes of being slaughtered by Iðunn instead of us."
Flamel Parsons	Flamel provides some insights to Audrey, quickly. "Iðunn is likely a dragon, that we believe was alive during the Scouring." He says, yanking a memory out of his brain of eight dashing cartoony heroes fighting a very tall, weirdly caricatured woman in purple and plopping it down on the table. "One of the things she could do was to create what we're calling dark-magic dragons, or shadow dragons." The cartoony woman is solo now -- she operates what looks like some sort of weird, cartoony crank-powered cauldron, and copies of a strange red-hooded man with red dragon wings come tumbling out every few seconds and go scampering off. "These seem to be a kind of mental imprint of someone or something she knew, stamped onto dark magic, as a fully combat-ready mind. I'm not sure if they have personhood or not, but they're pretty dangerous and they can disguise themselves as a regular human pretty well." He yanks his memory of her back into his brain quickly, clearing his projection from the table.
Odette Raskins	It takes Odette a little while longer to realize that Guinevere is joking about the poison thing. By the time she does, she's already sampled four different pastries, although she's helpfully kept them on a little plate so there's no risk of cross-contaminatino. Still, that doesn't make her feel any less conscious about it. "D... Do pegasus have trouble flying with heavier... Er. Armored passengers? I figured they'd have to be crazy strong to even fly, anyway."" It also takes Myrddin revealing himself for Odette to recognize him, hanging her head a bit at not figure it out sooner within the entire context of this meeting. "Oh, Mister El.. Prince Myrddin. S-sorry, that.. Yeah, that makes sense. If you really need to make it harder to tell..." She sticks her hand back into her bag, and out comes a little plastic pack of surgical masks that she promptly holds out to Prince Myrddin. It's even got a little pack of extenders to go with it! "Here. People can be pretty face blind even if they're expecting you around." It's Roy's turn to give the briefing! Letting out a pleasantly surprised little noise, Odette listens to Roy attentively, giving him enthusiastic and encouraging nods whenever it feels like he's looking in her direction. "Sounds like we really can't relax too much, then. At least we don't have any other enemies on the inside to worry about." Breathing a sigh of relief herself, Odette leans over to peer across the map while nibbling slowly on her collected pastries. "We're going to have to face Galle again if we head for Ilia first, but... I-it's probably better than going into Sacae first." She proposes. "We'd be opening ourselves to attacks on two... No, three other sides if we went through the middle. Although if we're worried about the attrition thing..." She continues, nodding slowly at Flamel and Madeleine while second guessing herself already. "But then if we go after Ilia, they might still reinforce themselves with forces from the other places...? But then fighting from Ilia means Bern would be grouping all their strongest together into one front, too. A-and..." "We would, and perhaps will, be rallying people for the purposes of being slaughtered by Iðunn instead of us." A shiver runs through Odette as her mind goes right back to how terrifying it was just fighting one dragon. No, to treat so many people while fighting one dragon, and to treat so many people in the aftermath of fighting one dragon. "Mass-produced dragons, all with that kind of power..." She goes quiet, trying and failing to take her mind off of that mental image by stuffing her face with the rest of her nibbled-on pastries.
Petra Soroka	When Roy gets up to explain the situation, Petra takes a step back to the side to be able to peek at the map alongside him. She folds her arms across her chest, awkwardly hyperaware of Lilian's presence and doing her best to not make a big deal about it, which means instead making it obviously a small deal to anyone paying attention to her. This is now the closest proximity to Lilian she's been since stumbling into her office-- really, each trip to Aquelia has been incrementally the next-closest-- and she's made... maybe a tiny bit of progress fixing that major section of her life, but not enough. Certainly not enough to feel particularly worthy of acknowledging Lilian directly in person. "They have no reason to risk an offensive now when they can wait and build an insurmountable advantage." "Yeah. Compared to them, we're kind of forced to move, because we're in the best situation we've been since the war started and it's still not saying much compared to Bern. I wonder..." Thinking about Iðunn and Zephiel, from their last conversation, and a little bit about Ash and Lilian, Petra frowns. "... Maybe there's a specific thing he's waiting for, or aiming for. Some 'destined day' with Iðunn, where all the weird magic changes that have been happening with the world will suddenly get a lot more dramatic. She's obviously having an effect on the world that's bigger than we can imagine, and it's just skewing everything more in her favor." "I guess all that means is that it's more important to not be, like, idle about it." Petra lifts her head up and looks around the room, eventually landing eyes on Audrey. "Nobody knowing of a specific second-apocalypse-day might mean there isn't one, or that we just don't know it." "The plan I've proposed is to move against Ilia and Sacae, rally local resistance against Bern, and hopefully either liberate them or draw Bern into over-committing to their occupation." "... So more of the same, I guess. Just without starting from a point where we have our asses kicked already." Petra is, over time, gaining confidence on interacting with these kinds of tactical meetings. The war, for all the bad it did, catapulted her over the edge of being forced to be decisive in them, in an environment she was intimately familiar with and thus confident in navigating. Elibe is a thousandth the familiarity of Lobotomy Corporation to her, but of all worlds, it's one she knows better than average. "If the plan's to rally resistances, are we planning on going big, small, or both? As in, 'make a show of force that convinces people the fight's winnable', or sending in smaller strike teams to put the resistance in a better position like we've done before? I don't really know what kind of larger force we've got to work with, now that we're not down to, like, countable numbers of soldiers." "I guess the safer play would probably be Ilia first so we're not worried about getting squished between Galle's forces and Bern, but... on the other hand, that's kind of as close to 'continuing the stalemate' that liberating a country can be, since it doesn't put us in a better position to get to Bern, just get to Sacae to then get to Bern. And we could have, like, a billion shadow dragons waiting for us by that time." "Excuse me, but... shadow-dragons? Shifts in magic?" "Iðunn is the ancient Demon Dragon who led the war on humanity a thousand years ago," Petra asides to Audrey, firing exposition without any wind-up at all. "She has magic to create dragons that can pretty much level cities if none of the divine weapons are around, and also the general state of the world seems to be ending in some big cosmic way because of her reawakening. King Zephiel is her biggest simp and is fighting a war to genocide humanity again on her behalf."
Audrey Basque	Audrey watches with a mix of curiosity and confusion as Flamel produces IMAGES, but ultimately ends up thankful for the display it makes. "Oh. I see. And--" She looks towards Lilian, briefly. "Based on what Miss Rook is saying, they're a major threat. But what about the "shift in magic" that's affecting the continent? This is-- I apologize, largely not relevant to the suggested strategies at the moment, I'm merely curious. Is it a matter of ley lines and flows altering themselves in a detrimental way for us, but beneficial for her and her dragon creation?" Well, Petra goes into that too. Audrey takes a step back. It'd be insanely presumptuous of her to just... It's not the matter at hand, anyway. But with her here, it's also... "I would like to speak to your mages regarding the state of magic in the world, if that is possible. I have an expertise in matters of ley lines and magical flows-- I would not wish to get ahead of myself on what I can do about it, but if we can sabotage some of Iðunn's magical advantage, or at least lessen the impact on the world--" Audrey brings her hand up to cough. "Well. Not right now. But when possible."
Rita Ma	Melady is distinctly nonplussed about Audrey's red-faced clarifications, and Petra's dissuasion. She looks between them, a union member gradually becoming conscious she's talking to a scab. "Ah. So you're just... doing all that," hand-wave at the Aesthetic, "for fun, then? You don't have a position?" "Do pegasus have trouble flying with heavier... Er. Armored passengers?" "Oh, yes," Guinivere leans in to gossip with the girl a decade her junior. "Haven't you seen those darling girls, Shanna and Thea? That's about as big as they come! I hear they're open-minded enough to let men be pegasus riders now, but you've got to be so small it isn't common... Galle always seemed to resent that he grew too big for it." Melady isn't especially pleased by the mention of her (ex??)boyfriend. a little plastic pack of surgical masks "Hm?" Elffin leans forward to just barely open his eyes and peep at Odette's gift. "Ah! I see. Thank you quite kindly," he says, and promptly dons a face-mask as a blindfold. Cecilia looks mildly confused that Audrey doesn't know about the war-dragons; then relieved when Petra and Flamel explain first; then confused again about the word 'simp'. "Er. More or less, yes. And thank you for the... visual presentation." "I think that woman really can just make new dragons every day." Cecilia re-composes herself by nodding grimly at Flamel, while thumbing through papers on the table. "If she's been active for two years, given reliable sightings and recorded defeats, we can assume an absolute lower bound of one war-dragon per month. In reality, Bern's likely holding many dragons in reserve and we have to assume Iðunn's production is speeding up." "My gut tells me 'one per week' is hopeful, and 'multiple per week' would not shock me. In that case, we have to reckon with there likely being triple-digit war dragons extant by the end of this year. If a hundred ordinary soldiers could match one, I'd call it a stroke of luck. That, and as Flamel points out, I doubt they'll ever surrender or tire of fighting." Roy is perhaps the only non-Elite present who can fully absorb the impact of that. He pales, looking like he hopes Cecilia is joking. She's not. Instead, she adds while looking up around the table: "You've demonstrated you can kill two in a week. Unfortunately, at the current rate of attrition, we'll run out of Divine Weapons; Iðunn won't run out of bodies." "I don't really know what kind of larger force we've got to work with..." While Cecilia expounds, Douglas rouses himself a little to answer Petra: "While the wounded recuperate and Cecilia's soldiers trickle back from the mountains, Etruria has about 19,000 fighting men. Lycia can muster... perhaps 5,000. We gauge Bern at 35,000, not counting its 'allies'." Staid matters like this suit him better than dragons.
Rita Ma	"The real issue is transport and logistics, of course. Lycia's mountains are a natural chokepoint: there at Ostia, and again at Araphen. Marching an army through a warpgate seems like begging for decapitation, but with our naval capacity, we could put..." Hand-wobble, features crinkling. "A thousand, maybe two, on another shore." "We would, and perhaps will, be rallying people for the purposes of being slaughtered by Iðunn instead of us." Cecilia nods slowly, her face appropriately sour. "I... I know. But I'm beginning to feel that if they don't fight, they'll be slaughtered by Iðunn regardless." Roy, returning to his seat at the foot of the table, sits deep in thought while others talk strategy. He still hasn't touched his snacks. "Taking Sacae would cut at the heart of Bern faster, but we'd be pinned down between Bern and Ilia. Taking Ilia is less aggressive, but we could build momentum towards Bern... Shanna and Thea want their homeland liberated first, but Fir and Sue want Sacae, the same way," he sighs, and rubs the side of his face. "Either way, Roy," Cecilia says with a little tilt towards Madeleine, "we'll likely rely on you and the Otherworlders to supplement whatever troops we can land. It's only fair you get a say." He wavers.
Flamel Parsons	Flamel gives Cecilia a thumbs-up about his visual presentations. "What that means is," He says. "A heavy focus on the divine weapons is a really good idea, even if they'd lose in attrition. We need to find them before Zephiel does, and we need to take the ones that he's put into use. Not because they give us an advantage in the numbers game, but because they represent a real, powerful lever we can use to claw open a gap in the wall. Maybe just once! But it's better than nothing." He gets a more focused expression and tone, staring at Bern on the map... "The Binding Blade especially. That one aligns with the way things were supposed to go..." He considers the topic at hand, frowning. "I don't like saying it," He says. "But I won't be able to fight at full strength if we're pushing ourselves between Bern and Ilia. I'm still recovering from offworld operations and I won't be able to give full support." He paces a bit, grimacing. "And further than that... Attrition stalemates are awful for the world, but Roy, your forces were a decent-sized fish in a decent-sized pond. The water level's going down more and more. Tens of thousands is still a high line, but soon enough this is going to be decided by thousands. Maybe hundreds. We can't afford to start taking losses. We need to focus on keeping some kind of momentum, and if that means focusing on a less hardened target..." He shakes his head. "I can't tell which of the options is harsher or more pragmatic, but we have to consider playing the longer game and reserving a lot of strength for when attrition has worn everyone down to the bone. Being the big fish in the smaller pond will give us a lot to work with."
Madeleine Cadrasteia	"Taking Sacae would cut at the heart of Bern faster, but we'd be pinned down between Bern and Ilia. Taking Ilia is less aggressive, but we could build momentum towards Bern... Shanna and Thea want their homeland liberated first, but Fir and Sue want Sacae, the same way," Roy wavers. Madeleine, nearly reaching for that cream puff at long last, stiffens a little and sets her jaw. She looks to Roy with as much confidence and camaraderie as she can muster - which turns out to be more than she expected. She's been on this side of a war before. "This isn't something we win by playing safe, slow, take-and-hold movements. Cecilia's made that clear just like, mathematically. Ilia's got a pair of wyvern generals and we can render them obsolete if the war ends before they break out of the north. Reni would be a possible avenue for a counterattack out of Ilia so we may want to close that door on them before Bern knows it's necessary. But that should be a first step, just to cover our rears."
Audrey Basque	"Ah. So you're just... doing all that for fun, then? You don't have a position?" Audrey seems uncomfortable, all of a sudden. With Melady's sudden tone and shift-- with the words. "I would... not say for fun, I understand this is a kingdom torn by war and a very serious situation. I... suppose I just wanted not to stand out. Too much." Guilt, for almost treating this like a playdate now. Not a literal one, but-- she turns to Petra, briefly, to mumble something. Her attention focuses back on Cecilia while they chat-- her eyes glance over the map a few times, at the mention of Bern and Roy's prior explanations to why they can't just go there yet. Or at least, why armies certainly can't. Maybe a smaller group...? The actual strategizing, she's not sure she can help much with-- though... if she knew when they want to strike, as a show to Cecilia that she isn't some charlatan, she might be able to do a little bit of divination.
Lilian Rook	'Ah. So you're just... doing all that, for fun, then? You don't have a position?' "Sometimes girls do things for fun." Lilian says to Melady. Her tone is somewhere between exhaustion and defensiveness, making it unhelpfully difficult to read. 'Galle always seemed to resent that he grew too big for it.' Lilian drifts into silence, imagining the universe where that figure in the cloak was Galle instead of the Prince, like she'd ever so secretly hoped. 'That, and as Flamel points out, I doubt they'll ever surrender or tire of fighting.' "It's a very realistic possibility that you'll have to begin drilling anti-dragon tactics starting now, General. Possibly new magic and equipment, too." Lilian says, distantly. "By the end of the year, there should be at least one experienced anti-dragon company attached to each major regiment." 'Etruria has about 19,000 fighting men. Lycia can muster... perhaps 5,000. We gauge Bern at 35,000, not counting its 'allies'.' Lilian sighs softly. "You told us the ratio, but it feels something else to hear." 'I... I know. But I'm beginning to feel that if they don't fight, they'll be slaughtered by Iðunn regardless.' "Of course they will." says Lilian, pushing away her nearly empty teacup. "But when facing the end of the world, not as many people think that way as you'd hope. Once their survival instincts are inflamed, people will go to strangely great lengths to cling to the slightest possibility they might avoid danger. They less difference there is in risk between fighting and avoiding fighting, the more they'll choose the latter. If we're to muster an army, it'll be for hatred of Bern, and not fear of Iðunn; it's best that we be realistic about it, and not them." 'Shanna and Thea want their homeland liberated first, but Fir and Sue want Sacae, the same way' "We're not splitting up." says Lilian. Her fingers idly brush through her hair, then are turned to gradually picking apart a custard pastry without actually eating it. "More haste begets less speed, or so they say. Momentum is what we need. The difference on their side is a few dozen more war-dragons, but the difference on our side is an entire nation and an incomparable difference in the quality of both morale and experience. You can't 'rush' people into accepting the plausibility of their own annihilation."
Odette Raskins	It's gossip with Guinevere time! Odette tilts her head a bit so she can make sure she can hear properly. "Oh, yeah... Wait, really? Aw, that's a shame. Then..." She looks down briefly, then sighs. "That's never happening, then... Oh. Yeah, Galle's wyvern looked pretty impressive, even if it was scary as all heck. But someone like him on a..." Odette's eyes widen at this new revelation, and she quickly tries drawing a mental image of that. "Kind of hard to imagine, knowing how he is now..." As she continues trying to visualize a waify Galle, Odette's pulled out of her daydreaming by Elffin putting a mask over his eyes. She opens her mouth to say something, pulls her hand back to her mouth, then clears her throat. "I-if that.. Works for you! Um. Can you see like that? If not, maybe you can try..." She puts one one of her own masks from an already opened pack, puts it on over her eyes first, then slowly nudges it to her nose to peek over the top. Maybe.. That's easier? OR even lower?" She hints, stopping short of actually pulling it down over her nose and mouth just to see if the Prince can get that hint. Numbers start coming in, and Odette's unease about the battle against Bern comes back to the front of her mind. "Even if we didn't have to think about Bern's soldiers, one hundred dragons would still need at least ten thousand of our troops. And if there's.. Um. M-multiple hundreds of dragons..." She grips the top of her bag tightly, suddenly feeling ashamed again for being so excited about being able to heal the tiniest of paper cuts. "Getting the Divine Weapons really will be more important than ever... Um. Do we have any leads on the others yet?" As that shame still lingers, however, Odette also notices Roy's own apprehension. Feeling the sudden urge to try and encourage him a little, she takes another pastry from the table (something crisp-looking) and bites off a piece, then holds out the rest to him. "Poison free." She 'confirms' with a playful grin, not quite shoving it into Roy's hands but definitely trying to get him to lighten up and eat something finally. "The sooner you eat, then less you'll have on your plate. And then.. Maybe it'll be easier to figure things out with a clearer head and a fuller belly."
Petra Soroka	"So you're just... doing all that, for fun, then?" This is approximately the most cutting comment Petra could have possibly received about her outfit today-- and for the sin of not being involved with Audrey beyond friendship. Especially from Melady, it reads as trying to implicate Petra and Audrey in a romantic relationship again, and being so scornfully stripped bare to aesthetic judgements and criticism makes the outfit scrape like sandpaper over her skin. She bristles, then slumps, expression twisted into an unhappy scowl. "... I really don't know what you want from me. Could you just lay off, please? Actually?" "In that case, we have to reckon with there likely being triple-digit war dragons extant by the end of this year. If a hundred ordinary soldiers could match one, I'd call it a stroke of luck." Petra is one of the people who should know that well already, but it's still horrifying to hear. She looks away from the map, to the corner of the room, staring into space tensely as she tries to imagine what that really looks like: a battlefield, lined with soldiers on one side, and a tide of dragons on the other, tearing through them by the thousands; the Scouring rendered in what's barely miniature to before, now with the added armies of Bern alongside them. Will Bern be willing to keep fighting alongside an army of dragons? Does it even matter whether they do? "... The Weapons. Yeah. I figure we should probably..." Lilian says it before Petra gets to it, on the topic of training soldiers so that the odds of beating a dragon a hundred to one aren't as much up to luck. "... Which of the Divine Weapons are still left over in Ilia and Sacae? There's Galle's, I remember, and the ones in Bern." "While the wounded recuperate and Cecilia's soldiers trickle back from the mountains, Etruria has about 19,000 fighting men. Lycia can muster... perhaps 5,000." Petra asked the question for a good reason, but when confronted with an answer, she realizes she has no clue what to do with it. Who the fuck is Petra to talk about commands for twenty-four thousand people in war? She could only manage a dozen by telling them to throw themselves onto Lilian's sword at every opportunity. If anything, she should be kept as far away from tactical discussion as possible, for the safety of the people that she's here to protect. Her throat tightens. The only thing that really comes to mind to say, murmured under her breath, is "... Two hundred and forty dragons."
Rita Ma	"Huh? Oh, no. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to put you down for having fun," Melady says, a little bit apologetic under her smooth sternness- and then more apologetic, when she notices Petra's unhappy look. Her hands come up, palms placating. "I only meant... oh, nevermind. She could be paying you for it, that's all." "The water level's going down more and more. Tens of thousands is still a high line..." That idea grips Roy with a kind of fear that he instinctively does his best not to show. It does anyway, in the little hitch. He looks to Cecilia, uncertainly, and her gentleness breaks the spell: "Flamel is right, you know. I'm sorry, but our world is going to get worse before it gets better." "I know, but to hear it like that..." "It's just how it is. I'll be astonished if any country in the world still has a real army when the dust settles. The more blood that's spilled, the more important 'heroes' become." "there should be at least one experienced anti-dragon company attached to each major regiment..." "Agreed," says Cecilia, quietly enthused Lilian brought it up. "I'd like to know how effective our ballistas are, but war-dragons not leaving corpses makes it hard to test. Wind magic can ground them, but we have far too few anima mages who can use it. Lightning may be more realistic." "A heavy focus on the divine weapons is a really good idea..." "... Which of the Divine Weapons are still left over in Ilia and Sacae?" Guinivere seems delighted to have something she can talk about with authority, and traipses up to the map, excusing herself around her attendant. "Maltet, the Blizzard Spear, is the only one in Ilia. I heard it broke, but Galle still has the spearhead, so perhaps it's not beyond restoration! Then Mulagir, the Tempest Bow, is... somewhere in Sacae?" She looks back at the others to see if they know where; Roy shakes his head. "Eckesachs is of course in Zephiel's hands, and the Binding Blade is said to be in the Shrine of Seals, right there." She's jabbed with her finger... well inside Bern's borders, northwest of its capital. Fantastic.
Rita Ma	"Kind of hard to imagine, knowing how he is now..." As she continues trying to visualize a waify Galle, "It is hard to imagine," says Melady, even though the topic doesn't seem to enrich her. "As a child he trained under Sigrun, Ilia's High Wingleader. He asked her for potions to stunt his growth... they must not have worked, I guess." "... Two hundred and forty dragons." "Yeah," says Roy, nearly as throat-tight as Petra. "... Three years." He finally takes a little bite of the pastry that Odette pushes on him, chews thoughtfully, looks lifted a little bit by the strawberries-and-cream, and does his best to compose himself under the watchful eyes of two royals and three generals while sponging up Lilian and Madeleine's words. "Momentum is what we need." "This is something we win by playing safe..." "If it's like that, rather than a stab at the heart... I feel awful deciding on attrition. But it'll have to be Ilia first, won't it? Being surrounded in Sacae, if we're keeping in mind our own safety... is something we can't afford."
Petra Soroka	"Can you see like that?" . . . Odette says, to a mostly blind man. Petra stares at her blankly for a few seconds, before turning her attention back to the map. "She could be paying you for it, that's all." This is an entire apology that doesn't make Petra feel any better at all, but it does make her feel more drained and less snappy in her discomfort. And, increasingly, even saying one word that isn't perfectly pleasant to one of the local soldiers makes Petra feel suffocatingly guilty that she's somehow ruining something for Lilian and proving why she should never have been allowed here, and how as it becomes more apparent that she and Lilian had a falling-out the rest of the soldiers are going to finally start showing how much they dislike her now that she isn't parasitizing off of Lilian's popularity. Really, as usual, Petra is a disposable hanger-on here, and the idea that she had the right at all to bring in someone she's close to that Lilian isn't is an obvious misstep of her station and the way the army views her-- without Lilian's say-so, it's hard to imagine even Petra would be tolerated here, even after everything. Petra's acknowledgement of Melady's apology is avoiding eye contact and mumbling "Sorry," in return. Obviously Melady wasn't being insincere in her apology. No one here's insincere in much of anything. "The more blood that's spilled, the more important 'heroes' become." This is a line that will stick with Petra for a while. "Then Mulagir, the Tempest Bow, is... somewhere in Sacae?" Petra frowns, conflicted now. "... Is trying to find Mulagir enough of an incentive to make Sacae a better first priority than Ilia? I think it might be. No good likelihood of getting a Divine Weapon in Ilia puts us in a really bad position for an endurance war, since we'd be facing the most dragons with the least resources at the end of it." But on the other hand... the advice for 'striking as hard as they can through Sacae into Bern' is as close to a pyrrhic death march as Petra could conceive of as a strategy, and she's trying to stay away from the 'piles of bodies stacking up at her orders' tactic for Lilian's sake. "Ehh... could we send some information scoping efforts into Sacae to see if we can narrow down the position of Mulagir while taking the army into Ilia? So that we have a better idea of what to aim for when we get a chance to nab the weapon, without splitting up." Implicitly, Petra throws her full support behind Lilian's suggestion. She can't not. "He asked her for potions to stunt his growth..." Petra's fingers tense, curling partway into a fist along the surface of the table while she leans on it. Throat dry, Petra's heart lurches, struck by a sudden desire to see Galle survive through all of this. "... Ah."
Lilian Rook	'I'll be astonished if any country in the world still has a real army when the dust settles.' "At least we'll be certain that nothing is going to happen to Arcadia, then." Lilian says, a little dully. Cecilia's enthusiasm* for the topic is refreshing, and brings a weak smile back to her face, but it's only out of appreciation for someone she respects being so forward-looking about it. "I'll look forward to it. If I have to do any more bleak wallowing about this all, I'm going to have a fit." 'As a child he trained under Sigrun, Ilia's High Wingleader. He asked her for potions to stunt his growth... they must not have worked, I guess.' Lilian shuffles deeply uncomfortably. 'Yeah, ... Three years.' "If it's any consolation, this war should be won or lost by then." says Lilian. "Your army, including us, is rapidly becoming so critical that I don't see a way through this that doesn't involve us succeeding or utterly failing to capture all remaining Divine Weapons within a year and a half at most." She sighs, then laughs but a single syllable. "That might sound discouraging, but I do mean it as a positive. There's no use fixating on how bad our prospects are in a long-distance grind, because none of our plans should reach one. The apocalypse scenario is motivation to be quick, not a realistic factor for what we have to do." 'If it's like that, rather than a stab at the heart... I feel awful deciding on attrition. But it'll have to be Ilia first, won't it? Being surrounded in Sacae, if we're keeping in mind our own safety... is something we can't afford.' "I'm relieved to hear that." Lilian says; and she looks it. "Attrition . . . is what it is. The way of war is that most of that attrition will be wounded, not killed, inside of this timeframe." That's definitely for her own benefit to hear. "But, realistically . . . we just can't gamble with everyone's lives to save more soldiers. They picked up arms specifically to protect their families and their countries. Consigning them to battle to give both those things the highest possibility of survival is just respecting their wishes, as soldiers."
Audrey Basque	Melady's apology certainly helps Audrey refocus, though her chat with Cecilia had largely accomplished that, along with whatever it was that went on between her and Petra for a moment. It doesn't help that crushing feeling she's in a war room and factually the least capable in the room to say anything about the map, but she's taking in the information and making mental notes. She wants to help-- not just because Petra asked her to, but to show she's capable. She's not doing great so far. If anything, she's spending far too long looking at Lilian as she carries herself through tactical decisions. This, too, is a far cry from the Lilian she met in her office, and much closer to the image she had of her. The gap is too wide. "Would you... give me a moment? Please," spoken to no one in particular. Audrey approaches the map, curious. She runs a finger along it, her golden-blue starry eyes resting there for a good minute, while the stars lining the inside of her cloak become a bit more visible, sparkling in slightly different patterns; some of the constellations, brighter, almost seem to point the way, and she runs one of her hands back against the inside of the cloak like she's feeling for something. "Miss Rook, what is your stance on gambling? If we go to Ilia... bad things will happen, without fail. But if we go Sacae... it is not fixed yet. It could be nothing. Or it could be something much worse than what awaits in Ilia."
Odette Raskins	"... they must not have worked, I guess." "Oh... Wait, they have those here, too? But if they didn't work..." Odette starts and stops, furrowing her brow again after a few moments. "Maybe the research isn't all there in... Er. There? We might have way to do it, but I don't know if he'd trust anything from us. I mean, we're..." She glances at the map again, then sighs softly. "Not... Probably not realistic in this kind of situation." "Two hundred and forty dragons." "Then we'd need at least twenty four thousand more than Bern's side just for a battle of.. Um. Brute forcing it all." Odette grimaces slightly at Petra's number. "But that's just if we have no.. Um. If nobody here was ready to tip things a little more in our favor, but we do. . But since there's plenty of us to do just that, then that might lessen the load Bern has a little more. Still, we're... We're gonna need Ilia and Sacae to really push those numbers in our favor." He finally takes a little bite Odette gets a morale boost! It's enough to get her to pick out a few more of the good pastries to 'poison-sample' small piece of before setting them aside within easy grabbing range for Roy. "I feel awful deciding on attrition." "Roy... Mmn. It'll be tough, but you've got this. Better to be safer and save more people with better odds than... Than gambling big when we don't need to, right?"
Flamel Parsons	Flamel isn't a fan of the Shrine of Seals' locale. "I wish you'd pointed anywhere else..." He mutters, in a kind of despairingly bright laugh. "But that's just how it goes. Adds up with the theories I had about local destinies!" A big sigh, and he renews his positivity. "Anyway-- Lilian's right. In the end, soldiers fight for civilians and we have to respect that psychological dynamic if we're going to get through. Not to say sacrifice makes things worth it, but..." He shrugs helplessly. "We need to work with what we have, and make sure that whatever sacrifice happens is effective." He keeps his brow furrowed when he's examining the spot on the map. "I wish I could find a way to get to that early on. Infiltration feels like it should be an option. But..." He shakes his head. "Every time I try to visualize it, I just can't." And then he plants his hands on his sides and looks at Guinivere. "How did you do that?!" He asks, astounded at the idea. "I'm trying to imagine ever doing it on foot and just... wow, destiny must have really been trying to get back on track. It's something that spies like me only dream of."
Lilian Rook	'Miss Rook, what is your stance on gambling?' It's difficult to tell whether Lilian just now noticed Audrey, whether she'd only just now given up on trying to ignore her, or whether she'd thought it polite not to react to her inclusion at all. In either case, it's over now. Her expression is tiredly neutral to the point of unreadable. "The thing I like about gambling is that I always win, Basque." says Lilian. "If it's the fate of the world hanging in the balance, you don't plan on anything where you might lose unless you have no other choice. However much it costs, however hard you'll have to work, however many people might be sacrifices, if it will work, then you do it. Taking risks on ideal scenarios is something you should be quick to put out of mind."
Audrey Basque	"I see," Audrey responds to Lilian, deflating a little as she takes a half-nervous step back towards Petra and crosses her arms, one finger tapping as she considers the words spoken to her. How quickly that desire to be useful turns into resentment for something else entirely. Even if the advice wasn't bad, exactly. "W-Well. It is... not my call to make. I... merely wanted to..." To what? Guaranteed odds of bad things. Not-guaranteed odds of extremely bad things. It really wasn't her place to make the call.
Rita Ma	Flamel isn't a fan of the Shrine of Seals' locale. "I wish you'd pointed anywhere else..." "I wish so too," Guinivere says, and the quiet tired anxiety behind her eyes spikes through the distant smile. Ah. "But maybe it was inevitable, down through the ages." She turns her back on the group to look at the map again, and her hands fret. "Dragons supposedly came to Elibe from the east... so more dragons lived in the place we now call Bern... so it was their last bastion, in the Scouring... so the hero Hartmut's swords were left there, and Iðunn's shallow grave too... and so Hartmut's weary soldiers would rest there and found a strong, martial country..." Melady slowly rises to take Guinivere's side, but the princess doesn't look at her retainer. She's absorbed by the map. "You see it, don't you?" Guinivere's voice is even softer, now, almost drowned out by the rustle of paper when she smooths the crinkled map. "How the mountain ranges decided where Bulgar, Araphen, and Ostia would be, a hundred thousand years ago. How the curve of the river here was always ready to hold Aquleia. It all... it all flows down, just so, and..." "My lady, please..." Melady takes her arm, but still she goes on. "... wow, destiny must have really been trying to get back on track." "And maybe it was destiny. If you looked hard enough at this map, Flamel, could you see it written in the mountains where I was always going to betray and invade my own country?" A tiny, tiny laugh. "I'm trying to see it. Maybe it's there..." Melady haplessly looks at Petra, as if instinctively sensing she knows how to soothe an older woman's crisis. But Guinivere, with a sigh, soothes herself before her attendant or Roy can figure out how to react. "I'm very sorry. I'm just being embarrassing. As you say, some people are readying to lay down their lives out there." It's Myrddin who slips in a word first: "Princess Guinivere. It's hardly the same situation, but if I may offer a word about invading one's own country..." "Your maj-- er, humble bard Elffin. I'm sorry to interrupt, but..." "Yes, Perceval?" "The Princess might be better able to take your sage counsel if you took that thing off your eyes." "Ah... ahaha..." He fumbles with his face-mask-blindfold, having seemingly managed to forget it was there. "My. I think I'll blame that on the mountains too." "Ahahaha!"