Off with his toe!

[Kathie Care <kathie@availablelight.net>]

Grumman Hall -- Moritani Embassy (Kaitain)(#469Rt)

Before you stretches a huge, cavernous, colonnaded hall. Immense crystal
chandeliers hang from the ceiling and the walls are of the finest
marble, part of the Moritani cache which they have preserved throughout
their long history. The ceiling is an immense fresco, depicting Lady
Fortuna and the pleasures of wealth and power, which the Moritani have
enjoyed for millenia. Jewel-encrusted seats are gathered around a desk
at the far end of the hall, at which sits a secretary who handles all of
appointments for the embassy. Behind him stand two massive bronze doors,
which look as though they could withstand a heavy beating and for good
reason, too. For behind those doors lie the heart of the Moritani
embassy, and the chamber of the Siridar-Count himself.

Exits:

 Mahogany Entryway <M> leads to Library -- Moritani Embassy (Kaitain)

 Platinum Doors <E> leads to Banquet Hall -- Moritani Embassy (Kaitain)

 West <W> leads to Ornithopter Pad -- Moritani Embassy (Kaitain)

 Bronze Doors <S> leads to Conference Room -- Moritani Embassy (Kaitain)

Sarah enters from the Ornithopter Pad.
Sarah has arrived.

Marco enters from the Ornithopter Pad.
Marco has arrived.

Marco walks in last in deep thought.

Ophelia enters the hall and pauses, looking around. "Have the mentat,
and Master Hess, attend me in here. And have a comfortable chair brought
for me, my feet ache. It will be less trouble to clean the floor here
than anywhere, I suppose, if there is... trouble." She glances over her
shoulder to Sarah, and firmly states, "It would be best, my dear, if you
retired to your chamber for the evening. Shall I have the Suk attend to
you?"

Sarah says, "I'll be ok. I think I just need to lie down for a while."

Ophelia nods, and places her hands on her wide hips while she waits for
things to be prepared.

Marco takes oout his communicator and speaks into it. A large chair is
brought out by four servants who place it before the na-Countess. They
bow and leave quielty.

Sarah takes off to go rest....

Marco puts his communicator back up, "They will be down shortly."

Rathix enters through the bronze doors.
Rathix has arrived.

Hess enters through the bronze doors.
Hess has arrived.

Rathix enters, flanked by four Elite Guard. In front of him is Hess,
escorted by eight Elite Guard, weapons drawn and ready.

Hess walks confidently among the guards as if they weren't even there.
He is escorted to his place without resistance.

Hess just looked at you.

Ophelia steps around in front of the chair and lowers herself into it
with a content sigh. "Ah, yes, now this is fitting," she murmurs,
settling back in the chair. Her eyes follow the guards, the man, and the
mentat as they enter. The whole thing seems slightly amusing to her.

Marco stands beside Ophelia. His friendly tone now replaced by a cold
business one, "Mark Hess. As you requested, your ladyship."

Rathix offers a respectful bow. "My Lady, Lord Marco" he offers in
greeting to the two in the room.

"Ah... yes... our Master Hess," Ophelia nods slowly, then lifts a ringed
hand to extend it towards him, palm down. "You may approach, Master
Hess, to greet your na-Countess properly."

Hess glances smugly at the guards and appraoches near the hand of the
Na-Countess. Falling to one knee with a perceptible flare and
flamboyance, he kisses the ring of her ladyship. He rises only to bow
low, "Your ladyship, I live to serve," he says solemnly.

Marco crosses his arms but keeps quiet. His blue with in blue eyes watch
the man carefully.

Ophelia tilts her head to one side, studying the man and his technique
closely. "Do you now, Master Hess?" she questions archly. "Stand up
then... be a dear, and do explain to me precisely what it is you think
you are doing, bribing guards at embassies and skulking about, eh?" She
raises a finger, silencing any possible protests or statements before
she finishes, and adds, "Have a care not to leave any details out. Each
one you do neglect to tell me will cost you a toe. Do we have an
understanding?"

Hess stands. "Your ladyship," he shakes his head feigning a lack of
understanding, "I don't know of the acts that you mention, or how they
were attributed to me." He lips curl into a frown.

Ophelia clucks her tongue, then sighs. "Do you deny, then, entering the
Venhei embassy without invitation or permission, and attempting to bribe
their guards?"

Rathix shifts on his spot, his leg still a little sore even after quite
some time since it was injured. He shifts his weight onto the other leg.

Hess takes a grave expression, "Your ladyship, I only entered the Venhei
embassy for the purpose of commerce." His head shakes from side to side
as if to negate something.

Ophelia clucks her tongue once more, and waves a hand loosely. "Off with
his toe," she intones, then laughs. "The right foot, I should think. And
start with the smallest toe... Yes. That should do."

One of the guards flanking Hess draws his sword and steps closer to the
man.

Hess looks very grave indeed, "So be it your ladyship, /My/ honor is
loyalty. My honor has been served."

Rathix nods to the guards, two of which grip the mans arms firmly,
whilst the man with the sword aims it at Hess's foot, taking careful aim
as he has been trained to do. He looks up to the na-Countess, as though
asking for confirmation.

The Lady's expression changes from one of amusement, to a cold, hard
glare. "I am not playing games here, Master Hess," she snaps, holding up
a hand to the guards to signal a pause. "You will tell me -details-, and
you will tell me now. By whose leave do you think you might shatter
diplomatic relationships with -dishonorable- deeds in other embassies?
No doubt you've been other places as well. -Which- other embassies have
you visited in such a manner? Start speaking, Master Hess, this is your
last chance."

The guard with the sword stops, holding it in position above Hess's
foot, gripping the handle firmly.

Hess looks at the guard with derision, "Your ladyship, you have my
answer."

Ophelia lets her hand drop, shaking her head with disgust. "Remove them
one at a time, until he changes his answer."

Marco looks to Hess, "Why were you in the embassy without permission?"

Nodding in response, the guard reaffirms his grip on the sword handle
and thrusts it downwards with careful and precise aim...


Hess hardens his expression at the expectation of pain. And the blade
contacts cutting into him eyes well with moisture, they close as he
tries to suppress the panic inside. A scream presses hard against his
throat and he coughs as he swallows it.

Rathix watches as the point of the sword pierces the man's boot, and
hears the rapid double-thunk sound as the metal severs his smallest toe
and strikes the floor with a resounding metallic ring.

Marco says, "Answer me, Hess. And this will be over."

The guard withdraws his sword, but keeps it unsheathed and ready,
standing beside the restrained man with not even a change in expression.

Hess breathes shallow and rapidly. "For...," he catches his
breath,"...for commerce...my lord."

"Bloody hell!" Ophelia exclaims, her face reddening, "What commerce?"

Marco seems to get mad as well. "Damn it man! That does not answer my
question. Why were you there with out permission?"


Hess catches his breath, "Spice contracts...setting terms...shipping
dates," he almost laughs at that, "...there are many things that must be
done." He asks, "Am I too be the victim of there lax security procedures
and not the beneificiary...I don't need bribes pass a checkpoint my
lord."

Marco says, "Then who were you to meet with?"

Ophelia falls silent and eases back in her chair, one elbow on the arm
of the chair and her chin propped in her hand, the fingertips of her
other hand drumming the arm of the chair with impatience.

Hess replies, "My lord, I've met with Lady Kulikova, Ambassador to House
Venhei. I gave her the knowledge that I was to bring a 1/3 kilogram
weight of melange." He frowns, "When I arrived she was relunctant to
take responsibility for it and had me removed." He exclaims, "333 grams
my lord and she expected me to turn it over to an irresposible staffer."

Marco says, "Did she give you permission to be there? I can say that I
am King but that does not make me King."

Ophelia continues to listen, her fingers still drumming without
cessation. She purses her lips, clearly not impressed with the answers,
nor the speed at which they are delivered.

Hess shakes his head, "Permission? All this revolves around a check on a
list? She agreed to the shipment, my permission, if that is what my lord
is after, was implicit. When I was allowed entrance by guards not
trained well enough to give a simple, "No," my permission became
explicit."

Rathix allows his gaze to wander between the Lord Marco, the na-Countess
and the man flanked by guards in front of him. His attention is,
naturally, on everything.

Marco says, "You just lied. First you said she gave you permission, now
you said she agreed to a shipment and that your permission was implicit.
Which one is it?"

Ophelia waves her hand, "Another toe," she says in a bored tone, then
goes back to drumming her fingertips.

The guard raises his sword again, taking slightly different aim this
time. The tip hovers above Hess's foot for a moment.

Hess exclaim abruptly, "Your ladyship, have mercy on your humble
servant. You have already pronounced your judgment, no matter way I say
you will have my head. Must you be a torturer too?"

Marco yells, "Out of lies already!"

Rathix notes the guard looking to him, and speaks sharply, "The Lady
gave you an order, soldier. Don't make her repeat it."

The guard nods, properly chastised, and without further hesitation,
pressed forward again with the sword, its tip finding its next mark with
a sickly cracking sound.

Ophelia levels her dark gaze on the man, and sits up straighter in her
chair. Aha! He shows some fight, still. This could yet be fun.
Mirthlessly, she grins, and answers, "I will be... as it pleases me to
be. You've played games with me since the moment you walked in this
chamber, Master Hess. You wish games, you have them!" And then she
motions to the guard, impatiently, "Off with it already, nitwit, or I'll
see to yours next."

Rathix frowns to the guard. "You will answer to me for your hestitation,
when this is done."

Hess is caught off guard by the pain of the sword entering his foot. He
partially yelps choking it off and coughing. He gasps in air to catch
his breath.

Shane enters from the Ornithopter Pad.
Shane has arrived.

Marco says, "If you are so loyal then why are you trying to cause us
diplomatic problems? You have not even talked with me about selling
spice here and I am the Siridar of Arrakis. I have the ability to
strangle your company."

Shane makes his way in, hands clasped behind his back as the Swordmaster
returns home from whatever adventure so occupied his evening thusfar. He
nods politely to the typical guard at the entrance as he looks over the
room and that which goes on.

Hess catches his breath attempting to bring it under control. He doesn't
reply, not even looking up towards the Siridar. He focuses blankly
ahead. His lips part and join rapidly as he whispers verse.

Rathix is standing to the back of the gathering, flanked by four Elite
Guard. Hess stands in the middle, with eight guard around him, one with
a bloodied sword, and Hess with a bloodied right foot.

A brow raising, Shane actually (as is rare) unclasps his hands, giving
Rathix one of those 'looks' for a moment though he simply approaches,
regarding the situation but having enough sense so as to stay quiet. It
is Rathix he regards most, for a moment, coming to step up then to the
side.

Marco says, "You have no honor you son of a water stealing insect."

Ophelia sighs softly from the comfort of her chair, then leans forward
slightly. The motion causes a strain in the stays of her corset, and
indeed, perhaps if one listened carefully enough the groaning of said
stays might be heard. "You leave me no choice in this matter, Master
Hess. Have you quite had enough then?" She asks sweetly, almost the tone
of a little girl asking for candy. She takes a breath, and as she does,
it seems near impossible that her bodice remains in place, covering her
still. "Remove the rest of his toes... all of them." And just as
quickly, her tone returns to ice.

Rathix gestures for the guard to pause, and addresses the na-Countess.
"May I speak to you privately for a moment, my Lady?"

Ophelia nods to Rathix, "Yes, of course... Master Corrialis, is it?"

Rathix nods, "At your service, my Lady." He moves closer, indicating
that a whisper is all that is necessary.

na-Countess? Shane tilts his head, then, and it's probably noticed that
the guards present would have given the man a respectful nod. While many
make friends in politics, Shane makes friends amongst the warriors. He
looks however towards Ophelia and the mentat, studying speculatively.

Marco standing beside Ophelia looks over with a curious look.

Rathix whispers, "My Lady, the words he mutters to himself are taught to
every Assassin I know. He has consigned himself to his fate, more pain
will not bring any more information forward."

Hess doesn't even recognize the words as something more than
undifferentiated stimuli. His lips move minutely and rapidly, but seem
to produce no sound.

Ophelia leans forward slightly to hear the Mentat's words. Showing no
surprise on her face, she nods slowly, and answers him in an equally low
tone, "I did not think to get any further information from him. I am
merely... satisfying a need to see things finished properly.""

Rathix nods silently, and returns to his place. He nods to the guard to
resume.

Marco regains his composure. He keeps silent.

Not wanting to be chastised again, the guard fulfils his order quickly
this time, raising his sword in a slicing manner, taking aim, and
burying the blade into Hess's foot in one swift motion.

Hess jerks from the force of the blade. His lips shut abruptly and all
throughout his body the muscles tense. Yes his foot screams to him in
his brain, and the echo seems to resonate in the interior of his skull,
but no sound leaves his body. The echo subsides and his muscles loosens.

Ophelia's eyes remain locked on the man before her, drinking in the
sight of his pain, yet disappointed that he did not scream - not even
once. "And the other foot," she adds, her boredom returning.

The guard circles to the other side of the spice merchant, and raises
his sword, bringing it down forcefully across the front of the mans left
foot.

A curious expression makes its way across Shane's features once more.
His lip spursed, the expression changes from curious to a hint of
distaste. He watches the servant for a moment then looks rather directly
at the Lady Ophelia.

The body reacts as it must, tensing at the stimulus, and now refusing to
hold up any of its own weight. Hess slumps silently against the guards.

The na-Countess rests her elbows on the arms of her chair, and steeples
her index fingers under her chin. She watches without flinching, even
after the guard has completed her orders. Her expression seems
thoughtful, pensive, and even saddened. As if the words were dragged
from her, she begins to speak slowly, "Let this man serve as an
example," she says, "I will have no disloyalty. I will have no dishonor.
When I ask a report, I expect it - in detail. You will have his feet
bandaged, to stop the worst of the bleeding. Then, he is to be taken to
Arrakis... and out into the desert. There, you will leave him. And when
you leave him, he is to be left with two unmarked water containers. One
will contain pure water. The other... is to also contain a slow poison."

Rathix nods, "As you desire, my Lady."

Marco looks to the man silently. Then to the na-Countess.

Rathix gestures to one of the guards, who disappears through the bronze
doors.

The guard returns with bandages from the Suk Laboratory, and at
instruction from Rathix, moves to apply the bandages to Hess's feet,
tightly but over the shoes. "That should be enough to stop the bleeding,
my Lady," Rathix reports.

Ophelia brings her hands up to rub at her forehead, nodding to the
Mentat. "Very well then," she says, her voice quiet. "Get him out of my
sight."

Rathix bows respectfully, and addresses the guards. "Take him back to
the holding cell." As he watches, the guards escort the weakened man
from the room.

Marco says, "What now, your ladyship?"

Shane looks from the departing men and over towards Ophelia, attention
needed now to be focused in only one place. His hands clasped behind his
back, then, he waits, simply letting of course those of so much a higher
station have their discussion.

Rathix returns his gaze to the na-Countess and stands at ease - legs
slightly apart, hands held behind his back, back straight.

Ophelia turns to Marco, then sighs. "We find out precisely which
embassies he violated in such a manner. And we issue formal apologies to
those noble Houses. I trust the diplomatic staff can handle this
competently." She pushes herself up from her chair then, folding her
hands across her stomach loosely, as she looks down at the mess on the
floor. "And we get this... cleaned up."

Marco nods, "Yes, your ladyship. I'll inform the diplomatic staff." He
signals servants to begin cleaning up the blood and toes. His gaze goes
back to her, "Possibly a investigation should be conducted on his
business. Maybe even liquidate his holdings then transfer them back into
the house?"

"An excellent move, yes," Ophelia says, a soft smile actually returning
to her face. She steps around the mess on the floor, her skirts lifted
away from the mess, and then notices the Swordmaster for the first time.
She inclines her head to him, giving him a questioning look. "I believe
another introduction is needed...?"

Marco says, "Na-Countess, the Swordmaster, Earl Padron of Turcal. Earl,
the na-Counetss Ophelia Moritani, the heir to the house."

The man looks to the woman, skirting around the bloody mess that is,
truth be told, her very own handiwork one must rest assured.
"na-Countess," he says seriously. "I am the Earl of Turcal, Shane
Padron. Former Master of Arms to the former na-Count," he intones,
though turns his head curiously as Marco speaks over him. "I have not
forgotten my name, Your Grace," a happless expression on his features
and he looks back to OPhelia.

Marco scowls as he is tired, "I am aware of that. I was complying with
the her ladyship's request."

Ophelia glances between both men, hazarding another gentle smile. Such a
vast contrast to the sadistic viper of only a few moments ago! "Former
Master of Arms, Your Lordship?" she asks, "Is this a position you
consider gone, with the passing of the late na-Count, I wonder?"

Shane just smiles, a hint of amusement as he looks over towards the
na-Countess. "That would be your place to decide, Your Ladyship. I would
not presume to speak as to whom you would have in what place. My skills
were enough for the former Master of the house, so to speak, but you
will perhaps have a different set of standards. I will however continue
to fill the position if it is your wishes until such time as you replace
me or something causes me to be unable to fill those duties. If it
pleases, M'lady." His tone is perfuncotry, polite, but not perhaps as
endearing as some would expect when he speaks to someone like their new
na-Countess. Of course, his first impression is surely....unique...

Ophelia chuckles, the sound coming from deep within her throat, almost a
purr. "I think I shall like you, m'Lord Earl. Take the 'former' off your
position title, please. I would wish you to continue your duties as
Master of Arms."

Shane bows at the waist, then, and stands. "As you wish M'lady." He does
smile slightly, however. It is of course a bit of a relief to have this
dealt with no? "We should speak at your leisure then," he intones.
"Provided of course you don't mind my speaking for myself?" OKay, so
he's rubbing salt in the wound but he's not nearly as tired as his Grace
now is he?

Ophelia inclines her head to the Swordmaster, but stops as an idea
evidently occurs to her. A glowglobe very nearly appears above her head,
or would, were it not for the light within her eyes. "Of course you may
speak for yourself... and you may also answer a question for me. Given a
preference, would you rather the position of Master of Arms, or..
perhaps... High Councillor of War?"

Marco raises an eyebrow to which one the man will choose.

For an instant the image of Cabal flashes into his mind, Warmaster of
the Harkonnen. "That is an impressive offer, M'lady," he intones
quietly. "One that I am eager to accept but would offer you the
reservation that there is much others have seen of war that I have even
yet to read. I am however a quick learner, and if you have no
reservations about offering me the position than I have no doubt it is
one i would fill with most due diligence. I tell you now though it is a
position that I hope grows dusty with disuse than one that I am given
the chance to show any true skill in. Only time will tell that...and our
compatriots."

Ophelia grows solemn, shaking her head, "It is a position that will not
grow dusty soon, m'Lord. I have read the reports... and I fear that
soon.. perhaps the High Councillor of War will be a very busy man. You
will need to be more than a quick learner. Can you truly handle the
position?"

Shane nods his head. "I'd bet my life on it, M'lady," he says simply,
and indeed, that's funny, since it is his life and many others he is
betting, to be sure. "Though I will need to know of what you speak
M'lady if I'm to be of any use. I'm afraid that while I'm good with the
sword and quick of wit...I have not been kept abreast of things that
most likely such a man should. I trust however that our Housemates will
tend to that oversight given how we are all in the same situation as
one." He seems indeed to be naive...that or bold...take your pick

Ophelia waves a ringed and bejeweled hand, almost dismissively. "We will
have a debriefing soon, I am sure. Tomorrow, we will talk more. It's
been a long... horrid evening, and I know I am surely exhausted. The
poor Count here looks as though he is to fall over. Tomorrow,
gentlemen... it can all wait until tomorrow."

Marco smiles with tired grin, "That I am, your ladyship. It has been a
long day."

Bowing once more, Shane looks after the Lady and then turns to Rathix.
He holds the man's gaze, or at least tries, perhaps of course indicating
a desire to speak with him.

Ophelia nods, "I am fortunate... to only have one problem which required
weeding out," she notes, "Let us hope his example sends a message to the
other weeds, and they leave on their own."

Marco whispers, "Yourladyship, if you will permit me I just need to talk
privately with you for a few momments."

Rathix smiles to himself, in part admiring the way this woman thinks.

"Not only a na-Countess, but a skilled gardener." Shane just smiles, to
himself, and scratches at his chin. Hands remainc lasped behind his
back, lips pursed slowly and he looks after the lady.

Ophelia turns, and inclines her head in turn first to the Mentat, then
the Swordmaster-Warmaster, and then, lastly, Marco. "I thank you all for
your help this evening. You have proven yourselves invaluable." Again,
her gaze turns to the Count, and she nods to him once more.

Rathix bows respectfully again, but refrains from saying anything.

Marco nods in complience waiting for her.

Ophelia lifts her skirts once more, and makes her way from the chamber
to the conference room, not waiting to see if Marco follows.


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