The Alvst Start Making Waves...

[Amit Jayant Sabnis <ajsabnis@stanford.edu>]

Dune 3 - Monday, July 31, 2000, 7:06 PM
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Alvst RP!!  YAY!!!!!

From the point of view of Pers....


*Pers*
Light seems to be pulled from afar onto this imposing figure, lighting
every crisp crease on his teal and gray uniform, every facet of the
decorations he wears on his left breast, and crowning his brilliantly
white hair with a straw golden halo. His entire manner gives an impression
of precision, from his perfect posture to the way his gray-green eyes stab
across the room, demanding answers wherever he looks. Even the creases on
his face, the marks of age and the merciless Alvsgaard air, add to his
stately presence.

Turning away from the striking sharpness of this man, you begin to notice
the mundane. Despite his commanding air, you would wager that the man is a
shade under six feet in height. His figure is by no means lean, but rather
hardy and athletic. Beneath the uniform, you notice that this man's
muscles have that stringy look that sets a sailor apart from any other. If
his weatherbeaten, leathery skin is any indication, you would not be
surprised to hear that he had lived on the waves all of his life. Combined
with his aura of aggressiveness, this thought seems just slightly
unnerving.

Pers is wearing a crisply pressed uniform, the teal and gray of the Royal
Navy of the Viscount Alvstad. Two full bars of black on the left breast of
his jacket mark him as the High Admiral of the Naval Fleet, and a number
of small medals decorate the uniform in memory of various awards and
military victories. Beneath the neck of the teal dress jacket, you see a
tight undershirt of even gray that matches the slacks he wears. A high
collared cape, teal on the inside with a gray whalefur exterior flows in
crisp pleats from his neck. Fisherman's boots of dull black thump across
the floor as he walks, announcing his presence long before he enters a
room.

*Lena*
Lena is of average height, with long, curly black hair. Her hair is
arranged in spiral curls and ringlets that fall on the side of her
head. The rest is pulled back and tied with a satin ribbon of dark red at
the nape of her neck, and falls down to the middle of her back in dark
waves. She has almond shaped eyes of dark green in a small, oval face. Her
skin is pale and she has a red cupid's bow mouth that is often in a warm
smile or mischievous grin. Her voice has a melodic quality and she speaks
in a slight accent, which few people can guess at its origin. 

She is wearing a dark red tunic dress with a key pattern and fringe border
hem over a white gown. She smells of spices and vanilla. From her small
ears dangle tiny red, enamel wyverns of exquisite detail. Around her neck
is a matching pendant of a wyvern, the crest of House Andragoras, with a
large emerald eye.

*Haroon*
A tall and swarthy man who carries himself with a pride and careful manner
which instantly suggest a soldier. His face is deeply tanned and showing
the first signs of wear from age and weather but the twinkling green eyes
that shine from beneath thick eyebrows convey an air of youthfulness. His
thick grey hair is cut to medium length, and on his face he sports a
magnificent beard groomed into two forks and a bristling moustache.

He is wearing an ankle length burgundy robe with intricate gold embroidery
marking out complex filigree spirals that on first glance look symmetrical
but on closer inspection are all subtely different. The patterns curve in
on each other, getting progressively finer towards the center of each
spiral creating a slightly unnerving effect that makes it hard not to peer
closer to try and see an end to the detail. The robe is cut to fit his
upper body perfectly, albeit with a slight padding around the shoulders
and chest, and then flares out slightly from his waist down making him
look rather like a chess piece. The sleeves widen towards the cuffs which
are then folded back showing a contrasting white interior of mosset
fur. From the bottom of the robe peek a pair of comfortable looking black
slippers. The toes are not curly, although it would not look out of place
if they were.

=======================Somewhere on Kaitain...=======================

Haroon lies back in one of the salon's most comfortable armchairs with his
gaze directed at the ceiling. His feet are rested on a low footstool
before him. The House Chamberlain clears his throat, eyes downward cast
and the Regent looks over at the entrance, furrowed brows relaxing as he
observes his guests. "M'Lord Warmaster" he says and pulls his feet off the
footstool, rising slowly. He bows.

Lena looks around the lavish salon admiring the carpets. Once passing her
gaze over the room she stares at the Regent and smiles warmly.

Led in by guards, Pers and his companion step through the carved doors and
into the Bajazet salon. Per standard, the Admiral walks at military
attention, boots striking the ground audibly as he moves. He inspects his
surroundings with a crisp swivel of his wrinkled neck, bringing his
attention to bear at last on the Lord Bashir.

Pers nods curtly in greeting. "Lord Bashir Kiamil," he addresses you,
bowing before turning to the Lady at his side. "Have you met the
acquaintance of the Lady Andragoras before?"

Haroon gives the young lady an appraising look. "No" he replies to the
Admiral "I don't believe I have." He turns to her "My Lady, welcome to our
most humble home on Kaitain." He gestures to the collection of plush
armchairs and low sofas that are situated close by. "Please, be our
guests." As if on cue two deeply tanned young slaveboys pad into the room
each bearing a tray which they set down on one of the low cut-glass
tables.

Lena curtsies deeply and says, "It is a pleasure to meet you, my Lord
Regent." She rises and motions to the room, "Your Embassy is very
beautiful."

Pers raises an eyebrow, not hiding his displeasure at a lack of formal
introductions. That, however, could no doubt be addressed later. He makes
his way to one of the many ornate armchairs scattered across the room,
selecting one set with brilliant sapphires. He turns to face the Regent,
face composed.

Lena settles into a chair next to the High Admiral, noticing his
disapproval. She grins somewhat and returns to regarding the Regent.

Haroon doesn't appear to notice any such subtleties in the Admirals
demeanour. Perhaps cultural differences are to blame. He gestures to the
refreshments that have been brought in with the warm smile of someone who
enjoys being the host. "Please help yourself. There is something to suit
all tastes.. except perhaps the coffee which I've been told is remarkably
strong." He turns to Lena with a polite look that borders on paternal. "My
thanks, and the thanks of the Royal Architect for your praise. You are
most kind" He murmurs. He looks to the Admiral "My Lord, it was most
gracious of you to accept my invitation." He returns to his seat, lowering
himself carefully. "Our last conversation was.. interesting."

Pers considers this as he selects a tall glass of clear water from the
tray. "I would agree, Lord Regent. Although, as you are no doubt aware,
circumstances have...changed since then. Perhaps for the worse," he says
in a conclusive tone of voice. No easily made advances.

Haroon nods thoughtfully and leans forwards to liberate a very small cup
of coffee from the table and place it on the flattened arm of his
chair. He leaves it there for a moment and the steam swirls in a spiral up
towards the cieling. "Circumstances change all the time my Lord. Which
particular set of events are you referring to Sir?" he replies, his head
tilting to one side. There is the slightest sense of unease beneath the
mannered reply, although only the trained would notice it.

Lena grins while she ponders which beverage to select. She chooses the
coffee and watches the steam drift up in the air. She smells it before
taking a sip, listening to the High Admiral.

In the dryest of tones, the Admiral remarks, "Perhaps the Lady Lena can
educate you as to the current situation concerning certain men of note
within the House Alvstad." He turns his gray-green eyes onto his
companion, his face showing clear interest in what the Undersecretary has
to say.

Haroon turns to the young woman. His left hand strays to the coffee cup
which he lifts and takes a sip from, before holding it cupped in both
hands. He waits for her revelation with an interested look.

Lena's lips curl into an amused smile. She takes a drink, making the
others wait for her response. "The Viscount is vacationing on
Alvsgaard. While at home he is also attending to some family matters. His
time on Alvsgaard is indefinite."

Haroon doesn't betray much response to this although his expression is far
from disappointment at the prospect. He takes another sip of his coffee
and pulls a pipe and smoking pouch from the breast pocket of his robe. He
sets them down on the other arm of the chair.

Pers's face matches that of his Lady companion, in an unprecedent show of
expression.  Through a smile that hints of a sneer, he adds, "The Lord
Viscount's Regent on Kaitain, the Lord Helmsgillar of H'rak H'roeg, has
also been...preoccupied with familial matters. Such things take precedence
on Alvsgaard," the Admiral adds informatively, taking a long gulp of his
water. He sets the cup down, looking as though he is prepared to speak
again, but instead merely regards you with a quiet air.

Haroon considers this carefully. "Interesting that a Regent would put his
own /familial/ matters before the House to which he is appointed
Regent." He smiles with a crafty ironic look. "However, I am sure that
Regencies vary in the details of their.. implementation." He raises an
eyebrow "It would seem as if House Alvstad is slowly letting go of their
interests on Kaitain." Another slow smile. "Were it not for your presence
here of course my good Lord."

The Admiral remains silent, but turns his gaze to the Lady Andragoras, as
if prompting her to speak as she will.

Lena smiles at the Regent over her cup. "I can assure my Lord Regent that
Alvstad is doing no such thing. One cannot leave issues in one's house
unattended and expect to influence others. As you said my Lord, things are
constantly changing," she grins, "There are interesting times ahead for
both our Houses."

Haroon looks from one guest to the other "The word 'interesting', like
'exciting' is highly subjective to the situation." He smiles fractionally
but gives the woman a quizzical look. Clearly he does not know what
exactly is being referred to.

Pers offers a shrug more through his tone than through any actual physical
movement. "Perhaps its functionality lies in this," he suggests, taking
another gulp of his water, draining the glass before setting it down onto
the tray with an empty clink. Apparently choosing changing the subject, he
says, "You have heard of the incident at the Ginaz Embassy?"

Haroon takes a deep sip of his coffee, baring his teeth for a moment,
although not shaking - as some of less firm a frame have been known to. He
keeps his eyes fixed on the young lady whilst taking the tobacco pouch and
the long-stemmed amber pipe from the arm of the chair. He proceeds to
methodically stuff the pipe, his fingers working automatically.
Haroon nods. "Indeed. My thoughts are with my good friend, the
Marquis." His eyes look curiously empty as he responds.

Lena places her cup on the table and crosses her legs. She studies the
Regent's hands as he stuffs the pipe.

The Admiral acknowledges this by clearing his throat. "Tell me, Lord
Regent. Were a similar attack placed on your House, would the presence of
your Imperial Writ to hold weapons work to your advantage?" A pointless
question, but one that begs an answer by virtue of its simplicity.

The Regent's gnarled fingers finish their task and the pouch is tucked
back into his pocket. A slave steps forwards from the shadows at the back
of the salon with a long lit tapier in his hand. The Regent sets the pipe
between his lips and puffs as the slave stands behind his shoulder and
leans over to light it.

The Regent's jaw clenches suddenly at that comment, but he waits for a
moment still puffing on the pipe, before removing it and exhaling slowly
and calmly. "A similar attack was made upon my House. My Lord Sultan died
as a result." He looks the Admiral square in the eye "One does not need an
Imperial writ to kill a man in cold blood. Nor to take revenge in the same
way"

Still facing the Regent Lena tilts her head slightly to the High Admiral
and grins. She leans on the arm of her chair and rests her chin on her
palm. "No he doesn't. Unless he wants to start a war."

A small smile rewards the Lady's candid answer. The High Admiral nods
approvingly. "Intervention from higher powers often has dire results, Lord
Bashir. But as the Lady of Radek makes us aware...acting without such
intervention may, at many a time, be equally devastating." Pers's eyes
narrow slightly, providing the emphasis that his even voice refuses to
supply.

Haroon gives the young Lady a nod and a wry smile, much as one might
admire a well played chess move, or perhaps a strike in fencing match. He
looks to the Admiral. "Intervention from on high is a double edged
sword." he replies carefully. "Although the set which can be defined as
such varies in size depending on one's.. station." He gives the Admiral a
look as if to say 'hmm?'.

The Admiral nods. "I suspect that you have an intimate understanding of
the impacts of one's...station, Regent," he replies, accenting the final
word with a light emphasis of voice. "After all, you are a man in multiple
stations...an equal to other Warmasters, and above them as a Regent...yet
below the position of the Siridarat, no doubt." The man's voice is
surprisingly rich and low as he mentions the ruling governers of the
Faufreluches.

Lena nods, "It is all relative to the situation. Trouble with intervention
from superiors is that aid leaves those it contributes to in obligation to
them. Highly volatile situations can leave one's allies in a state of
weakness," she says alluding to the Ginaz.
"Help without a debt to be payed in full is, indeed, quite rare," Pers
agrees, regarding Lena with an almost proud glance.

Haroon smiles at that and drains the last of his coffee. "No doubt..." he
repeats. "Although the context was of intervention, not of the forms." He
gives the Admiral a beady look "I am sure that I could have a interesting
discussion with Lord Calix on /that/ matter perhaps." He shrugs his
shoulders slightly "I have no Siridar, and any intervention into the
affairs of this House from the rest of the Siridarat is usally
unappreciated." His tone becomes slightly more somber. "A fact which I
hope to slowly condition people to, for there are always some of my
betters who would try." The whole statement is delivered without apparent
irony.

Pers turns his head to the side, inspecting a wall hanging while he
replies, revealing his face in profile as he does so. "The policy of House
Bajazet is well known amongst the other Houses of the Landsraad," he says
slowly and deliberately. "As *was* the policy of House Alvstad." The old
man swallows, a fascinatingly complex contraction of muscles seen from
this angle. "The exact nature of the present policy...remains to be
seen." Pers ends his statement on a high tone, letting it hang in the air
to be felt by all.

Haroon nods "The policy of the House" he says with a slight emphasis on
the last word "And the man who leads it should not be confused. It is a
confusion into which the man himself often falls though." He leans
forwards to take a pot of coffee from the tray, and pours himself another
cup. "Were the policies of Viscount Jans well known, or those of house
Alvstad?" he asks as he fills his cup.

Lena grins with amusement at the Regent's question regarding the
Viscount. She motions a slave to fill a glass of wine for her. "As the
Regent said, the man and the policy are two separate entities."

Haroon nods to the under-secretary. "It would seem that the question with
House Alvstad is, 'who is the man?'"

Pers turns at last to look at the Bajazet regent again. "Very perceptive,
my Lord," he says, although his tone indicates he has other thoughts. "And
that question...seems to be without answer, for the time being."

Haroon looks to the Admiral again, as he seemingly does for all
responses. In the current situation at least, he is the man present.

Haroon nods slowly "Some questions have many possible answers Admiral. And
the same question could be asked of many Houses perhaps" He quirks a
brow. "House Bajazet has, as you well know, a Siridar-Baroness. However
she does not dictate the policy of the House or intervene, although I
exist only to serve her." He lets his gaze drift around the room. "We
could be seen.. perhaps especially from your situation, to be a fine
example of ambiguity."

Lena brushes aside some stray curls from her eyes and says without humor,
"Then the leader of the House, being separate from House policy, is kind
of irrelevant. Another could take his place as easily. Following that
rationale, what does it matter who leads? They could easily be replaced."

"Any situation made ambiguous," the Admiral explains in an admonishing
tone of voice, "can be made clear...with precisely the opposite
circumstances as those with which it began." His eyes seem to twinkle with
self-satisfaction as he stares at the Regent's reaction.

Haroon begins to chuckle with a deep rumble "It being especially easy to
replace a Regent my Lady" he replies to the under-secretary first with a
warm good humour. He takes another puff on his pipe and watches the
smokering drift up the ceiling, tilting his head back to rest on the
armchair as he says in the voice of a school-master. "The name of the
leader is of little import, except to those within his House. To the
Landsraad it matters little for they deal with a House, not a man. And few
in the Landsraad would argue if that man decided to dig a grave for his
own House would they eh?" He tilts his head back up and looks at
Lena. "There should be none who care more about the future of their house
than its members.. its servants. They, and only they, should have a true
vested interest in its leadership." He makes a gesture with his hand as if
wishing to cut the line of conversation. "My Lord Admiral, it is uncommon
for one to come to the Bajazet to play games with language. We are not
famous for word-games.. perhaps unjustly so." he says, leaning forwards
and ploughing through both the conversation and the smoke that now drifts
in clouds around his head.

"Is that an excuse, Lord Regent? Or something...less respectful?" Pers's
eyes flash alarmingly as he casts a long glance at his companion before
pointing his stare directly at the Bajazet.

Lena catches the look of the High Admiral. Her eyes drop to the rug under
her feet. She grins and then looks at the Regent.

Lena smiles sweetly at the Regent. "Games? Do you think this a game?"

Haroon watches the undersecretary's undisguised amusement with a look
markedly lacking in its previous paternal good humour. Presumably her
overly familiar tone did not go without notice either. He redirects his
attention to the Admiral. "My Lord, I am making no excuse to you, nor I
hope, offering a cause for perceived disrespect." He makes a minute
shrugging motion and looks at the Admiral calmly, the corners of his mouth
downturned. Perhaps a look of disappointment. "The Bajazet favour
directness my Lord.. if a lord on New Adrianopolis was to enter another's
fief to speak with him, it would be customary for him to speak frankly and
forthrightly."

Haroon has the air of one offended in his own house, as he sets the pipe
down on the arm of the chair and then tucks each hand into the opposite
sleeve of his robe.

Well, that's that. "An interesting custom," the Admiral says slowly. "On
Alvsgaard, we tend to favor subtlety and a discrete nature over
such...frankness." His manner clearly indicates that he equates such
'frankness' with 'boldness,' and perhaps even 'impudence.' "If such
customs are beginning to wear on us, then perhaps we have overstayed our
welcome. We should be going." Without leaving room for further
questioning, the Admiral rises from his chair in a single movement,
extending his hand to help his fellow Alvst up as well.

Haroon appears in no rush to rise from his chair, and watches the two
Alvstad with an observational interest. "A difference in customs is
precisely that my good Lord." The corners of his mouth twitch into a smile
"There is a saying on our world that the desert is oftentimes not far from
the sea." At that, he rises from his seat and bows deeply and formally to
the Admiral and then the undersecretary.

Pers returns the Regent's bow, his eyes twinkling silently as he considers
the man's adage.

Lena looks up at the High Admiral and smiles brightly. She takes his hand
with her gloved one. She rises and curtsies deeply to the Regent. "It has
been delightful my Lord Regent. Thank you for your hospitality. I hope you
will visit us at our Embassy where we can be more..," she grins, "frank,
as you put it."

Pers nods. "Indeed, Lord Regent. Perhaps the sands may visit the waves
when next we meet," the Admiral adds.

Haroon nods "As you say Admiral. The conversation was most.. edifying." He
bows again, more of a deep nod and calls to the Chamberlain in Amat. The
portly man with pudgy, ringed fingers folded across his chest bows also
and prepares to escort you out of the embassy.

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