X-Mas log (12/25/1998)

["Martin Hirsch (Filarion)" <filarion@netcom.ca>]

This is the part of the X-Mas RP on the 25th in the Harky embassy that I
attended. The rest should get posted later.
Loads of plotting in there..enjoy :)



Iason exits the Atreides Staffcar.
Iason has arrived.
Filarion is standing at the garden's entrance and only two guards are
evidence of the high security state the embassy is in at the moment.
The Atreides Staffcar departs the area.
Iason steps out of the car as it stops, looking around as he does so.
The car's trunk (as it stays in place: stay, car, stay!) is open
slightly, just enough to show it is occupied. "Diplomatic Liasion
Lankveil, a pleasure." he greets, his head low as he offers you a formal
bow.
Filarion walks over to the Ambassador. He gives him a light bow. "Count
Merx. It is a pleasure to welcome you on our grounds."
Iason cracks a sligtly sheepish smile. "That is Earl, I fear. Not Count,
nor Baron, nor any rank higher than Earl, my lord. The gifts are in the
trunk, waitng to be unloaded."
Filarion smiles as he notices the trunk. "Ah? An old Atreides tradition,
eh. That sounds like one of the things you have ahead of us." he smiles.
Turning around he motions the guards to unload the gifts. "Bring them to
the Baron's quarters. Usual security measures."
Iason nods a bit, then adds, "Be careful with the sword; I was led to
believe that it is a very old.. and judging by the scar on my left arm,
a very sharp antique."
Filarion's head snaps back to Iason. "Of course, Earl, I am sorry.- A
sword? The Baron will love it. How very nice of you and the Duke. But
let us go inside. It is not too warm out here..."
Mikael walks in from Garden of Bitterblooms through the Fanmetal Gate.
Mikael has arrived.
Mikael coughs. "Greetings, Ambassador. Good Count."
Mikael smiles at both. "I'm going out into the town for a while. Escape
the opressive atmosphere, you know."
Iason straightens, then bows again to Mikael. "Good day, my lord. And it
is merely Earl."
Filarion turns around and nods at Mikael.
Mikael smiles at Iason. "I'm sure it will be count soon enough, Sir.
Mikael speaks into his communicator.
A Harkonnen Limosine pulls up near Mikael.
The Harkonnen Limosine steadily accelerates then departs the area.
You say, "So, let us go inside and warm up a bit, shall we?"

You walk through the Fanmetal Gate.

Garden of Bitterblooms -- Harkonnen Embassy (Kaitain)(#491RtJ)
This large, roughly circular garden is a wild tangle of flowers and
plants, a dense, oppressive profusion of flora from many worlds.
Dominating the garden are the small white bitterblooms native to Giedi
Prime. They exude a musky, almost bitter aroma that hovers thickly over
the garden, visible as a sort of white haze. Translucent roses compete
for light with flowering inkvine plants. Elacca trees shade a chain of
lilyponds where miniature alligators swim. Nearby, a stand of Caladanian
dogwoods shelters a bloom of fragrant black lotus. Topiary hedges stand
throughout the garden, here trimmed in the shape of a man coupling with
a monstrous animal; there in the shape of a naked woman impaled by
spikes; a third resembling a pack of wolves tearing apart a helpless
child.

A stone path snakes from the walls of the embassy ground up to the doors
of the embassy itself.
Players:
 Filarion
Exits:
 Fanmetal Gate <NE> leads to Traffic Loop -- Harkonnen Embassy (Kaitain)

 Burnished Doors <S> leads to Giedi Hall -- Harkonnen Embassy (Kaitain)

Iason walks in from Traffic Loop through the Fanmetal Gate.
Iason has arrived.
Iason steps through lightly. "I take it things are well, my lord?"
Filarion turns his head a bit, squinting in the twilight. "Oh yes, our
relations to the other houses have never been better."
Iason raises a brow. "That is good to hear."
Filarion shrugs. "But some elements in this house are bound to make
trouble and so.."
Iason inclines his head and shrugs some, spreading his hands. "I see.
Shall we step inside? Or shall I merely list off the contents of each
package so their owners know which is theirs?" he asks, with the barest
hint of a smile.
Filarion laughs. "Oh, no. It might be fun to find out which is for whom.
Let's go inside and have a good wine, shall we?"


You walk through the Burnished Doors.

Giedi Hall -- Harkonnen Embassy (Kaitain)(#492RantJ)
Every square inch of this huge domed hall is decorated in baroque,
almost obscenely gaudy detail, displaying the vast Harkonnen wealth. The
high walls defy description, as far as the eye can see a dizzying
patchwork of gold, silver, ivory and brass in scales, chevrons and
circles. The floor tiles form an intricate, seemingly random spiraling
pattern in azure and teal. Statuary depicting Harkonnen victories stand
in niches lit by floating glowglobes high overhead, glowering down at
you. In the very center of the vaulted ceiling far overhead is an
irregularly shaped skylight.
Exits:
 Grand Staircase <U> leads to Obeshev Landing -- Harkonnen Embassy
(Kaitain)
 Translucent Doors <W> leads to Librariat -- Harkonnen Embassy (Kaitain)

 Spiral Stairs <D> leads to Abulurd Landing -- Harkonnen Embassy
(Kaitain)
 Ivory Doors <S> leads to Salon -- Harkonnen Embassy (Kaitain)
 Burnished Doors <N> leads to Garden of Bitterblooms -- Harkonnen
Embassy (Kaitain)

Iason walks in from Garden of Bitterblooms through the Burnished Doors.
Iason has arrived.

The twin slave girls hold the ivory doors open for you as you enter.
Salon -- Harkonnen Embassy (Kaitain)
A long, low-ceilinged room, lit by freefloating suspensor lamps. In the
very center of the room bubbles a small indoor fountain.The walls are
paneled in comfortable dark woods. There are a variety of tables
scattered about the room, promoting conversation and relaxation. Smoke
usually fills the air. A low dais, accessible by a short flight of
stairs, runs along the eastern wall, with more tables up there. Along
the western wall is a sideboard, where a slave waits to make guests
comfortable.
Players:
 Filarion
Exits:
 Sloping Tunnel <D> leads to Arena Grandstand -- Harkonnen Embassy
(Kaitain)
 Embellished Portal <S> leads to Dining Hall -- Harkonnen Embassy
(Kaitain)
 Ivory Doors <N> leads to Giedi Hall -- Harkonnen Embassy (Kaitain)

Iason enters the Salon from Giedi Hall.
Iason has arrived.
Filarion waits for Iason to choose a seat, then he takes a seat in one
of the recliners.
Iason finds a seat in another one of the recliners himself, slowly
sitting down.
Filarion motions to a slave to bring wine. Adressing Iason, he asks.
"What wine or drink would you like to drink?"
Iason says, "Whatever that is handy, my lord."
Filarion nods. "Well, then we'll both have wine." He gestures the slav
girl to hurry. "I am sorry that the Baron doesn't have the opportunity
to thank you personally, but I am sure that he will be most honoured."
Iason nods. "I understand, my lord. How is the climate of the house?"
Filarion shrugs. "It's a large family, there are always some minor
quarrels, but overall it's still a family.."
Iason nods. "I understand that." he replies, glancing around. "How has
the mood been overall, concerning the recent Imperial actions?"
Filarion grins a bit, his eyes sparkling. "Well, as a reprimand, Lord
Mikael was appointed to me as an aide. The na-Baron has a short temper,
but his anger doesn't last forever
Iason raises a brow, cocking his head to listen.
You say, "Of course, the Lord doesn't like this arrangement, but it was
the Baron's order.""
Iason nods. "But that is how punishment works, does it not? You do not
like the sentence."
Filarion smiles as the slave brings in the wine and pours Iason and him
a glass. "Of course, of course. I cannot say that I am overly happy with
this addition, either. Mikael is not a very diplomatic person."
Iason takes the wine with a nod of thanks, then sips at the glass. "I
would guess not, judging by his past behavior.
Filarion nods as he puts his glass down. "Well, I guess scientists have
another opinion on the importance of politeness, good /Earl/"
Iason replies, "They understand their sciences, if not people.
Filarion continues "But even their achievements often are safer in
others' hands."
Iason says, "Understanding and understanding of applications are two
different matters."
Filarion tilts his head. "Very true. But let us talk about more joyful
things. I take it that the Duke is getting better?"

Ulricke enters the Salon from Giedi Hall.
Ulricke has arrived.
Ulricke strides into the salon, stride to the slave standing by the
sideboard. "What are you waiting for? Get me a glass of wine," she
commands. The slaves scurries to do what is bid of him. She then turns
to see that she is not alone.
Iason nods to Filarion, as the two of them sit in recliners with
wine-glasses in hand. HE looks up, then leans forward to bow as he gets
to his feet.
Iason intones lowly, "Good day, Lady Ulricke. I trust you are well? And
yes, my Lord, the Duke is recovering, albeit slowly.
Filarion nods at the arriving Ulricke. "My Lady. Good to see you.."
Ulricke's eyebrows arch, but her full lips are hidden by a glass of
wine. She nods, still looking cross.
Iason, moved by the need to be courteous, remains standing till the lady
seats herself or otherwise reclines. "I trust you are well, my lady?" he
asks the newly-arrived Harkonnen.
Ulricke downs her glass of wine and then has the slave refill it before
moving to a seat near Iason. "Lord Ambassador. A pleasure to see you
again." She sinks into the chair as if it were made with her shape in
mind.
Iason reseats himself with as much grace and dignity as he can find at
the moment, easing into the recliner.

Ylena enters the Salon from Giedi Hall.
Ylena has arrived.
Ylena steps quietly into the room, and settles herself into a
comfortable chair near one of the tables.
Iason is just seating himself in a recliner, holding a wine glass as do
the others. At the opening of the door, he rises again to his feet -
somehow negating inertia, as if unbound by the laws of physics - and
bows to the newcomer. "My lady, a pleasure." he greets, sweeping his
glass-free arm low.
Ulricke watches Iason carefully. "What brings you into our lair, Lord
Ambassador?" she asks with a twinkle of humor in her eyes. Her eyes then
turn to Ylena. "Auntie." SHe smiles.
Filarion nods to the entering Ylena, his wineglass in his left.
Countess, may I introduce you to Lord Ambassador Earl Merx. - Earl this
is Dowager Countess Ylena Harkonnen."
Iason murmurs, "A great honor indeed, milady."
Ylena smiles slightly, then rises herself, returning the formal bow with
an equally gracefull curtsy. Her skirts make the softest whisper as they
move. "My Lord, tis a pleasure to meet you." She replies softly, her
voice lyrical, a bit uncharacteristic of the House she was raised in.
Ulricke props her chin in her hand and smiles, "The title, Earl, is
quite new. He seems to be prone to good deeds." That should make him
uncomrforab;e, her smirk seems to say.
Iason folds himself back down in the recliner, managing to show little
else save a pleasant smile as he nods to Ulricke's words.. but doesn't
add to them. "I see at least where the Lady Ulricke gains her fair
looks."
Ylena arches a brow at Ulricke, then snaps her fingers casually. A
nearby slave scurries up to her quickly, holding out a goblet of her
favorite wine. She dismisses the slave without a second thought, before
settling herself back into the chair, her hands working to straiten the
folds of her skirts. Something of Iason's words seems to strike her, and
her smile grows the slightest bit. "Ah, My Lord, you do me too much
kindness" She replies.
Ulricke grins and looks at her aunt. She never objects to a compliment.
"Too much?" Iason repeats, shaking his head before tilting the glass up
for another taste of Gieldi wine. "I fear that my skills in statescraft
have yet to approach the level of ability needed to do you justice, much
less honor enough. Were my wits as sure as Lady Ulricke's sword arm,
then I might not be at such a loss."
Iason takes another swallow of wine, then adds "My lord Lankveil, I
believe the presents for these two fine examples of womenhood are
waiting in the Baron's chambers, are they not?"
Ylena smiles again, the slightest color rising to her cheeks, as if
compliments paid to her come few and far between. "It would seem, My
Lord, that your statecraft suffers naught."
Ulricke snorts and leans back in her seat, quickly draining the second
glass. "It's getting thick in here, auntie."
Iason says, "Ah, but it suffers in comparison to the beauty that you and
your neice share."
Filarion nods to Iason. "They should be, indeed." he pulls out his
communicator and speaks some words into it.
The smile that plays across Ylena's face growns. "I think, My Lord, that
my Niece has been the most fortuitous, I know that I am but a mere
candle to her blazing sun."
Iason's eyes move from Ylena to Ulricke, then back again. "A white dwarf
may be outshone by a younger star, but both are still gloriously
bright."
Ulricke smiles pleasantly, "My goodness, auntie... I does seem that you
have an admirer." She glances at Iason.
"I think, My Lord." She pauses to take a small draught of her wine.
"That Statecraft does suit you." A merry twinkle glints in her eyes,
hiding the whirring of the gears of her mind hidden behind them.


Two guards in Harkonnen livery step in afterwards, each bearing a
carefully scanned, scoped, and examined bundle. Iason looks up as they
step in. "I believe they've been examined."
Filarion nods. "Sorry, standard procedure."
Ylena nods knowingly, her confidence in her House's guards seems utter
and complete.
Iason sips at his drink. "I merely do as my Duke bids, my lady." he
offers Ylena. "And Lady Ulricke, I merely gave voice to a fact that
seemed apparent to all."
Iason glances back at Filarion, inclinging his head. "I understand, my
lord. Most Houses would do the same."
Her smile growing ever more, Ylena nods. "Of that, My Lord I am certain,
even in my previous husbands courts, my Niece's beauty was legendary."
Again she takes a small sip from her wine, then offers Ulricke an
indulgent smile.
Ulricke smirks, "Yes, I'm sure you did. My aunt is certainly well
deserving of compliments." She grins at her aunt. "Was it? How kind of
you. Would you ever marry an Atriedes, aunt?"
One guard steps over towards Ylena, bearing something that has been
partially unwrapped, a precious object of some sort, to judge by what
twinkling items show, which include a large opafire gem. Towards Ulricke
the other walks, bearing a thin, wrapped box which also shows signs of
close examinatino.
Drawing her compusure about her quickly like a fine silken cloak, Ylena
dissembles. "I had not yet given the matter of another marriage much
thought, dear Niece." Her features light up as she takes the offered
gift from the guard. "My Lord! 'Tis truly a wonderous gift, My Lord is
most generous." She carefully picks up the gem, holding it like some
prescious child in her hand. "Tis lovely beyond words, I can only offer
my humble thanks."
Ulricke peers at the box and then looks over at Iason, "The Atreides are
trying very admirably to be good neighbors. What have you brought me
today, Lord Ambassador?"
Iason bows again from his seat, managing not to spill the half-filled
glass of wine he holds. "It is merely a very insufficient token of
goodwill, my lady."
Iason glances at the first guard. "Where is the Count's present?"
Ylena's eyes dart over each person in the Salon, then back to the Guard,
watching him intently, as if waiting for an answer.
The guard, obviously slightly intimidated amidst all the nobles, clears
his throat. "My L-lord, Of course, I will fetch it." He bows deeply,
before virtually running out of the room.
Ylena casts the Guard a stern look, as if to scolding his
forgettfullness.
Filarion shakes his head a bit. "It was my fault, I did only order the
Ladies' gifts. I wasn't aware that there is also one for me. That really
would not have been necessary good Earl."
Iason nods, then replies politely. "I suggest going back for his
present. It's the one in the green wrapping."
Iason nods again. "I thought that it would be brought as well, since you
are present. My apologies."
Iason takes a deep breath, then sips at his wine glass as he composes
his thoughts. "Lady Ulricke, that sword in your box is supposed to be
dated back to Ancient Earth, according to the authenticity papers
attached to it."
Filarion shifts comfortably in his recliner as he pours himself another
glass of wine.
Ylena quietly drains the last dregs of her wine, her attention never
wavering from the conversation at hand, she holds the goblet out to her
side casually, knowing that a slave will rush forward to refill it,
which is done. Her eyes grow wide at the import of the gift, her mind
moving more swiftly over and over the possible implications of this eve.

Ulricke opens the box to look at the sword. Her eyes examine it
carefully, lifting it from the box. "You know the way to a woman's
heart. my lord." She winks at him.
Iason deadpans, "Through the sternum? Yes."
Lyrical laughter rings out in the Salon as Ylena replies. "You have a
keen wit, My Lord, a keen wit indeed."
Ulricke purse her lips and stands, weighing the sword, arching a brow at
Iason. "And such wit as well, yes."
Filarion hits the table with his fist as he laughs out loud.
Iason goes on, "The sword is sharp enough, I found - I had the lack of
sense to set it on my sleeve as I examined it. The blade promptly sliced
through the cloth to give a sharp bite. The scar has yet to heal."
Filarion now directs his attention to the guard, which re-enters the
room.
Ylena falls silent, wondering at Iason's words, and at the gift that
could proove as a means of his own death, knowing however that this
evening's celebration shall be tempered. She finaly speaks up at long
last. "I do hope that no permanent harm was done to your person, My
Lord?"
Iason shakes his head, glancing over at the guard. "None save to the
outfit, whose wound was mortal. Ah, I believe that is the Count's gift."

Ylena nods, sipping again at her wine. "I am glad of it My Lord, We
would want no harm to fall unto you."
Ulricke holds the sword in two hands and goes through a couple of moves.
She smiles, very pleased it appears. "A sword that has tasted your
blood, my lord..." She nods to Iason. "Thank you."
Iason replies to Ulricke, "Other gifts seemed.. inappropriate."
Ylena nods, a wry smile playing at her lips. "Indeed, a fitting gift to
a young Lady more a warrior then Courtier." She again smiles indulgently
at her Niece.
Filarion takes the box with his right hand, dismissing the trembling
guard with the left. As he opens the box, a smile forms on his face. "a
200 year old. Ambassador, too good of you." He takes out the bottle and
holds it against a light. Indeed, a purity of colour..."
Ulricke's smile grows as she touches a finger lightly to the blade. "And
did you wipe the blood from the blade?" She smiles at her Aunt,
"Oh...what else can I do but practice these skills? The romantic ones ar
eno more use since I have been promised away."
Iason again manages to bow smoothly. "They are merely small tokens, my
lord, my lady Ylena, my Lady Ulricke."
A momentary frown of sympathy contorts Ylena's face for a fleeting
instant as she nods to Ulricke, then sighs. "Such is the way of men and
women of our posistion, I am afraid, my dear Niece."
Ylena turns back to smile engagingly at Iason. "I do appreiciate it, My
Lord, more then you might guess." She begins once again to nurse her
wine before querrieng. "Is your Lord Duke of good health My Lord? I have
not heard much news of Duke Praxton, as I was so long gone from
Kaitain?"
Iason leans back in the recliner, draining his glass for a slave to
refill as he holds it out to one side. "My lord is recovering from
TAndalusian Green Flu, which plagued him for some time."
Furrowing her brows slightly, Ylena nods. "I am much saddened to hear of
this, do you please send him my regards, and wish for a speedy and
complete recovery, My Lord."
Ulricke moves over to Iason. "As I cannot dance with my lord, I will
dance with the sword. It is time for my eveing practice." She gives him
a quick curtsy and a mischievous smile. Ah...she is in her element. A
girl's best friend is her sword.
Iason bows his head, and nods once. "I will my lady." he promises Ylena,
turning to watch Ulricke's swordwork.
Ulricke walks to the north and passes through the Ivory Doors.
Ulricke has left.


Ylena watches her Niece's retreating form whistfully "Ah, youth." She
shakes her head slightly, then takes a rather long draught of her wine.
"I can but remember when my life seemed so free and unfettered."
Filarion sighs a bit as he finishes admiring the bottle. Placing it onto
the table, he pours himself a glass of the lesser wine, guarding the
jewel with his eyes.
Iason nods his thanks to the slave who refills his glass, and then sips
at it quietly.
Ylena having learned something of the Count of Lankeveil this eve,
stores this information down for future use. "So my Lord," She adresses
Iason once again. "How long have you been in Duke Praxton's service/"
Iason shakes his head a little. "Only for a few years, my lady.
Previously, I was employed with several Houses Minor."
Ylena nods, then blushingly explains. "Grimyre is so far from Kaitain,
that oft what little news we did recieve, was teribly out of date."
Iason says, "I understand, milady."
Almost against her better judgement, Ylena finds herself warming up
somewhat to this gilded tongue man of the Duke's. "Well it is well known
that My Lord Duke has a sharp eye for talent and loyalty, This in itself
speaks highly of you to me, My Lord." She drains her wine and sets the
goblet down on the table near her, waving off a slave who rushes forward
to refill it.
Filarion, following the dialogue, allows himself to smile a bit.
Iason's head hang low as he leans forward some to acknowledge the
compliment. "That was the Duke's judgement, though I have strived to
live up to the measure he has set."
Ylena smiles almost warmly at Iason. "Well, I would say, from that which
I see, that you must live up to Duke Praxton's expectations."
Filarion comfortably sips from his wine, eyes sparkling with amusement.
Iason merely shakes his head. "The Lady is gracious in her compliments,
it appears. Perhaps my Duke should hire you instead."
Ylena chuckles softly, the sound trilling chime-like and musical. "I am
poor at most things but study, courtly ways, and the arts of wivery."
She blushes somewhat, her free hand moving to caress the gem still
cradled in her other hand thoughtfully.
Iason merely offers a deep bow in apology, before sitting upright once
more. "Not so poor, milady."
The slight blush begins to grow, creeping across Ylena's face quickly,
bringing even more color to her normaly pale cheeks.
Iason once more tlifts the wineglass to his lips to pour some more of
the libation out, thinking as his green eyes scan the room carefully.

Ylena changes the subject deftly, trying to detract from her own mild
embarrasment. She snaps her fingers again, deciding, apparently, that
another drink would perhaps be in order. "So tell me, My Lord, what
think you of Kaitain?"
Iason takes a deep breath. "It certainly doesn't lack for excitement."
he notes.
Iason looks over at Ylena. "How do you find it, my lady?
Ylena nods her agreement. "That it does appear to be, a;though, I must
admit, I do beleive this shall be my longest residence here." While
carefully cradling the gem back to one hand she retreives her now
refilled goblet, taking a sip to steady herself. "All of my other visits
here have been wuite temporary, I have, you see, spent most of my life
either on Giedi Prime, or my husband's Lands."
Iason's head bobs as he listens.
Ylena's hand trembles slightly as she takes another sip. "I fear that I
am unused to so much excitement." Her eyes drift downward to the gem for
a thoughtfully moment, before she adds. "But I must say, it all does
reinvigorate the spirit, and the mind."
Iason is quiet as he pays attention to the Lady's words, adding no
thoughts of his own, should he have them.
Filarion takes a good draught from his goblet, then places it back onto
the low table.
Ylena takes yet another draught from the wine, then falls silent,
fearing to give away to much with her words. She looks up at Filarion a
moment then asks. "And you My Lord? Do you enjoy Kaitain?"
Filarion inclines his head, his gaze wandering between Iason and Ylena.
"Oh yes. You see, I was raisd on Caladan and so I always lived on a very
nice planet. But Kaitain really is nice for such a heavily populated
planet."
Masking her features cautiously, Ylena asks. "And what Is My Lord Duke's
Fief like? I had heard that it is a place so vast and rich in water that
it is amazing." She seems genuinly curious.
Filarion nods as Ylena speaks. "True, there are huge oceans and it rains
often, but the land is really beautiful in the sunshine."
Ylena nods, then replies softly. "Grimyre was such as that, so lovely
and green a planet." Her tone is whistfull, almost pained. Could the
rumors perhaps be incorrect?
Iason listens quietly to you both, absorbing the information.
Shrugging, Filarion takes another draught of the wine, emptying the
glass once more. "One somehow has to live with his past, I guess." The
alcohol's effects start to demand their right it seems....
Ylena purses her lips slightly, and stills her somewhat trembling hands,
then makes an attempt at lightening the somber tone of the room. Turning
her gaze to Iason, she enquires. "On what planet were you born, My Lord,
if that is not to personal a question?"
Iason says, "Hellas, my lady. An Imperial holding."
Ylena nods, her eyes showing recognition of the name. "Yes, I have heard
of it." She narrows her eyes thoughtfully then continues. "Although only
in passing, what is Hellas like?"
Iason puts down his glass for a moment tto lace his fingers together
while composing his thoughts. "Very lush, my lady. It is mostly an
agricultural world, with some small textile industries present."
Ylena nods, her voice slightly strained as she replies. "Aye it sounds
much like Grimyre." Again she takes a draught of the wine to steady
herself.
Iason shakes his head. "Like but not like, I would gather."
Again, Ylena nods. "I would imagine. No one planet can trully be like
unto another."
Iason's reply is held back a moment as he searches for ways to phrase
his reply carefully. "Not in any respect save that they support life."
"True, true, My Lord, and e'en so, there are some that sustain little to
no life at all." Ylena replies. Once again caressing the gem lightly
with a fingertip, she asks. "I have not much been to Kaitain, what is it
like beyond the Spaceport and this Embassy?"
Iason says, "It is.. busy."
Iason shakes his head, unable to put it quite any other way.
Ylena arches a brow at that, wondering. She finishes off her wine,
setting the goblet aside. The gem glitters and sparkles in the light as
she lovingly transfers it to her other hand. "I suppose that I meant in
culture, and activities."
Iason thinks. 'It is.. boisterous."
Filarion stares at the empty wine bottle in front of him.


Boris enters the Salon from Giedi Hall.
Boris has arrived.
Iason is sitting in a recliner talking to the others. Upon the door's
opening, he rises to his feet to offer a deep bow to the entering..
Baron.@emit Filarion, having the door in his line of sight gets up and
gives the Baron a curt bow. "My Lord Baron"
Filarion, having the door in his line of sight gets up and gives the
Baron a curt bow. "My Lord Baron"
Boris enters, chuckling to himself. "Ah, my friends, my darlings, how
good to see you all, eh? What a day this is, eh?" He holds out his hand
for a goblet of wine.
Ylena, who has been seated near one of the tables, rises almost
immediatly and sweeps into an accomplished curtsy. "My Lord, I bid you
good e'en." her voice is fond as she adresses her brother. Nestled
carefully in one hand is a spectacular Opalfire Gem, it's surface
sparkling in the light as she moves.
Iason's head dips as he deepens his bow upon noting the Baron's
presence. A great pleasure it is to see you, Baron Harkonnen."
Filarion lets himself sink back into the cushions quite fast, the better
to disguise his alcoholised state.
A slave places a goblet of Giedi Red in the Baron's hand. "Good even,
Sister dear." the Baron rumbles, warmly. "I see you're settling in
nicely. I must warn you, watch this Atreides rogue, eh?" he teases. "He
moves quickly, I warn you."
Filarion takes out his communicator and murmurs something, with not
quite as low a voice as intended.
"Bring....presents..immediately..or.....
Ylena smiles, then nods to her brother. "So I have seen My Lord Brother,
so I have seen." Her gaze falls to the gem, then darts across the room
to rest on Iason, violet pools studying the man intently. "'Tis as I
have said, a gilded tongue." A soft musical laugh trills out, her
tension apparently easing.
Iason straightens. "I trust that my lord is well?" he asks Boris
solicitously. "And that the guards have made clear that your gifts await
elsewhere in the Embassy?"
Boris grins widely, slurping his wine. "So says my daughter, eh?" he
says to Ylena. "He speaks well, for an Atreides, and is a credit to his
Duke." He sinks into a seat at one of the tables, chuckling. He nods to
Iason's comment. "Yes, and thank you for them! How are you enjoying
those slaves, Ambassador? I bet your crotch is right sore, eh?"
Color rising to her cheeks, Ylena looks away breifly, then disguises her
discomfort by swiftly snapping at a slave for more wine.
Three guards hastily push into the room before Iason can reply, and
offer the gifts they bear to the Baron like a terrified version of the
three wise men. One bears a case with a matched set of antique daggers
of an archaic style, another with rare and exotic delicacies, and a
third with some other expensive items.
Iason takes another deep breath, before replying to the Baron's bawdy
remark. "There has been quite a bit of... exercise, going on." he merely
says.
Filarion can't hold a chuckle and quickly lifts his glass for a large
sip, only to cough a bit.
Ylena seems to take great interest in her wine, and the Gem in her hand.

Boris accepts the gifts with delight. He plucks one of the daggers from
its case with excitement, chortling at the marvellous workmanship. With
a lazy backhand flip, very quickly for one his size, he hurls it at one
of the slaves nearby; the blade whistles by the man's head and sticks
into the wall nearby, vibrating with the force of the throw. He throws
back his head and laughs loudly in delight.
Boris says to the slave, "Oh, don't wet yourself, fellow, if I'd been
trying to kill you I'd have hit you! Fetch that blade over here, now!"
Iason asks after a moment, trying not to sound discomfitted, "I trust
that my lord enjoys the small tokens that I have been able to bring?
Ylena remains seen and not heard, as beffiting.
The slave races to comply, as Boris takes up some of the delicacies on
the other tray, taking large bites of the foodstuffs and sinking back
into his chair.
The Baron nods to Iason. "Very much, Ambassador. What's the occasion for
these gifts, eh? Grateful for those slaves, eh?"
Iason shakes his head to that, as if denying such an idea. "They are
merely tokens of my Duke's good wishes towards you and your house."
Ylena takes a long slow draught of her wine, preffering to remain in the
background. Her focus, however, is intent, eyes questing and searching
as she digests every nuance and gesture within the Salon.
Boris eyes the gem in Ylena's hand. "Now there's a pretty bauble,
Sister. Was that from the Earl here, as well or some admirer of yours?"
Ylena smiles, then pipes up. "Why yes, my dear Lord Brother, 'twas
brought me by the Ambassador." Again she offers Iason a small smile,
eyes dancing. Her fingertip idly traces over the surface of the
magnificent gem as she speaks.
Filarion thoughtfully reaches out and takes his gift, a bottle of good
liquor, studying the label.
Iason bends almost in half again as he bows low to the lady. "AS I said,
a mere token."
Ylena's cheeks flush lightly. "And again, my thanks." She replies.
Boris takes a bite from the large stuffed mushroom he's devouring,
chewing loudly, then throwing the half-eaten delicacy over his shoulder,
wiping his greasy fingers on his black sash. "Eh? Ambassador, that's an
opafire ring, eh?" he seems disbelieving. "Your Duke's giving my sister
this as a mere token? Will he be courting her next?"
Iason's head shakes a little from side to side as he stands once more.
"I cannot say what my Duke's thoughts are on this matter, my lord, not
being privy to his thoughts.
Not one iota of emotion does Ylena show as her brother casualy drifts to
this topic.
Boris chuckles. "If Iason's got a gilded tongue, his master's an even
greater threat to us, eh Sister. You'll recall him, I'm sure, we were in
school together, he and I. Quite a man with a blade, if you get my
meaning." His gesture, toward his own lap, leaves no room for doubt what
sort of 'blade' he means.
Filarion does desperately not show any interest in the topic.
Ylena first goes slightly pale, then her cheeks color once again with
mild embarassment. She swiftly drains her goblet, holding it out for it
to be refilled. Oddly the goblet seems to tremble somewhat. "I have only
met the Good Duke in passing, My Lord brother, most I know of him is by
reputation." Her voice is low, and almost aggitated as she tries to
ignore the real question asked of her.
Boris says, "He's quite a fellow. I think highly of him, eh? I know he
can't help his ancestors being Atreides and all...Isn't that so,
Ambassador?"
Iason says, "We are born without a choice in our bloodlines, my lord."
Boris says, "Eh, Count Filarion? What d'you think of this? D'you think
our Duke Atreides has designs on my sister?"
Filarion looks up, the bottle still in his hands. "My Lord Baron, it
would seem possible, but to my knowledge the Duke already has a bound
Concubine."
Managing to steady her hand, and the goblet before spilling the precious
wine, Ylena raises the goblet to her lips and takes what for her, would
be an unusually large quaff. She glances from Boris to Ianos, and then
over at the walls, as if something there interested her greatly.
Boris says, "Bound concubine? Yes, I've met her. A woman of great
substance, she is!"
Iason remains quiet for the nonce, as he has not been asked a question
directly this time.
Ylena refrains from comment, but instead continues to sip at her wine
Boris says, "Ambassador, convey my invitation to the Duke for a
welcoming party, to greet my sister and sons to Kaitain, eh? We shall be
glad to have all you hawks here."
Iason musters as deep a bow as he can. "I will do as you bid, my lord."
Boris says, "Count, can we make sure we have some more of those blonde
slaves on hand for the Earl here? He seems to crave them, eh?"
Ylena smiles, her eyes lighting up at the mention of a fete, she looks
to Boris then asks. "You would do this My Lord Brother? I am, indeed,
honored."
Iason straightens, then sips at his wine glass to cover any other
responses he might otherwise display.
Filarion nods affirmatively. "I will see into that My Lord Baron" His
eyes wander to Iason, whom he gives a grin.
Ylena sips idly at her wine, her features disguising well, the thoughts
that are whirring through her mind.
Boris says, "Of course, Ylena dear. How could I not? We'll eat until we
puke it all up again, and then crawl into the salon and have an orgy to
end all orgies."
Boris says, "And some duelling, eh? A little blood always whets my
appetite."
Lowering the wineglass before speaking, Iason carefully chooses his
words. "I will convey your invitation to my Duke, butit iis an hoor that
think he shan't miss."
Ylena seems to smile slightly at Iason's reply.


Boris chuckles, "Good, good." His mood turns serious for a moment. "How
are things on Caladan, Ambassador, with your guests and all?"
Ylena perks, listening intently to the conversation.
Iason replies, "I am not completely informed on that matter as of yet, I
fear. The last I heard was that they were waiting to land.
Boris says, "Waiting? Keep them in orbit for good, that's my counsel,
eh? Don't let those bastards on the ground! We are dealing with our own
infestation, on Giedi."
Filarion nods, his face more stern now.
Ylena takes another sip of her wine, awareness now dawning of her
borthers meaning of 'guests'. Sighing slightly she asks. "How many
Legions has the Emporor decided to 'gift' all of our presenses with?" A
definete hint of sarcasm creeps into her tone.
Iason shakes his head with disgust. "Two brigades on Caledan. I fear
more what may happen if some Houses decide that they have more to gain
from Imperial support than the Landsraad."
Boris says, "He's sent five battalions to Giedi, and twice that to
Caladan, Sister. He's not half the man, nor half the Emperor, his
fasther was!"
Ylena nods in agreement. "I find I must agree, My Lord Brother." She
sighs again in disgust. "What is it he thinks he seeks to gain? Have not
both we Harkonnen, and the Atreides Hawks proven our worth and loyalty
to His Majesty?"
Filarion inclines his head. "I already spoke to a Venhei representative,
and, disagreements set aside, we agreed that the Landsraad has to be
strong now. No, stronger than it ever was."
Iason nods once. "Has anyone assayed Rastanyev's position?"
You say, "Not yet, no. I will see into this soon, though."
Boris says, "The Rastanyevs had better realize what's good for them,
that's all I can say, or they'll be sorry, eh?"
Ylena purses her lips into a stern angry line. "If he seeks to weaken
the Landsraad, then his actions were at best, imprudent. I cannot
imagine that the Houses Major will sit by idley for long under these
conditions, 'tis imbalancing to say the least!"
Boris says, "Well observed, Sister. He's a fool, and acts in a way to
provoke outright insurrection!"
Iason says softly, "That may indeed be his goal. And some other houses
may play the parts of our own in a future 'Battle of Corrino'.
Iason says, "That is what I fear most if things become violent."
Boris eyes the Ambassador. "A reshuffled deck, eh? With some new major
players, like those Xians who are always kissing his Imperial Seat, eh?
Filarion sighs. "Indeed. It is an unfriendly act, and unfriendly acts
were, in other time, a declaration of war."
Iason nods once. "And all of us shamed or destroyed."
Iason says, "SAve.. those who turn."
Ylena pales slightly, then rifles out. "Surely that -cannot- be His
Majesty's intent? What good would it gain anyone, him least of all." She
shakes her head, then mutters angrily. "Be he not careful, he could find
himself a throne on Tupile, The forms -must- be obeyed!"
Iason glances at Ylena. "Being forced to house more forces than one can
support IS a stretching of the forms that could lead to their total
disruption."
Iason says, "We have reported to the Emperor that we cannot house all
the troops he sends us, as under the terms of the Grand Convention. We
were told to, in the words of his Majesty's representative, to 'discuss
it with his Majesty' rather than refuse."
Iason emphasizes the last words. "Which IS OUR RIGHT."
Filarion shrugs. "God-like ambitions were always a characteristic of
Emperors. And he surely wants to exploit the quarrels some of the ouses
are in."
Ylena near glowers with anger, then downs the dregs of her wine. "I had
no clue, My Lords, that the situation was, indeed this dire." A soft
sigh escapes her. "Grimyre was just too far removed rom the Imperial
seat."
Iason nods again to Filarion. "Moritani's new possible feud with Venhei
is one such thing, especially with their present kanly with Ginaz still
ongoing..."
Ylena frowns. 'But surely they must see that putting aside these fueds
is of the utmost importance to the safety of -all the Landsraad, and if
they do not see it, then we shall have to make them see it." Her eyes
blaze fiercly with her words.
Iason sips at his wine. "Who said all the Houses Major supported the
Landsraad?"
Boris nods. "What we need is the Landsrrad locked up tight, on our side.
The major houses made to see the right course, the ones who who don't
agree threatened into compliance."
Filarion turns towards the Lady. "It seems to be our task to try to
establish a dialogue between those houses." He nods at Iason.
Ylena shakes her head. "Surely of our two Great Houses can put aside our
differences of time and the past, others could follow such an example."
Iason nods to Filarion. "I have suggested politely to Lady Ivanova
Rastanyev that it is best that she, if she is to take the position her
brother held in the Landsraad High Council, to have 'good friends' among
the Landsraad itself."
Iason starts ticking Houses off on his left hand. "Alvstad supports the
Landsraad, at least somewhat. House Atreides supports it fully, as does
Ginaz and yourselves. Moritani, Rastanyev, and Venhei are, however, the
unknowns in this game. The latter two Houses are small as Houses Major
go, and could fall either way."
Filarion peers at the empty wine bottle on the table. "Indeed. It is
quite possible that the emperor will soon start to deploy his troops on
other homeworlds."
Snatching another goblet of wine from a slave, Ylena's tension cannot go
unoticed. "We must solidfy our positions and relations with the other
Great Houses, we must stand together in this. They must be made to
understand this." She takes another sip on her wine. "Perhaps Houses
Harkonnen and Atreides could lead the way and set the example in this,
surely between us we can muster the support?"
You say, "I agree there. Past differences aside we must stand together
through these times. My Lord Baron?"
Iason nods once to the wise words spoken, and looks over to the Baron.
Boris says, "I've spoken to old Praxton, and he and I are of one mind in
this, odd as that must seem, eh? This truce has served us well enough
since my father's time. I say we do what we must, stand together! We'll
have the whole Landsraad behind us before too long, eh?"
Iason says simply, "Great minds think alike, my lord."
Ylena nods simply. "It is what must be done if we are all to surive, His
majesty cannot be aloud to disrupt the balace further."
Filarion, intoxicated by the alcohol dozes off, still looking quite
alert.