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-Countess herself.
Ophelia
Of average
height, she carries the olive-toned complexion known to her mother's side,
though not as dark as most. Her lips are full, her nose rounded and smallish.
But her eyes are rimmed in thick lashes, and the irises so darkly colored as to
nearly be indistinguishable from the pupils. Overall, her oval-shaped face is
neither one of classic beauty, nor is it hard on the eyes.
Her thick, black
hair is absolutely straight, resisting any and all efforts to hold the curls so
stylish and luxurious to have. So instead, she wears it pulled back and plaited
into several braids which are gathered at the nape of her neck. Though simple,
the coif is very elegant.
She does not have
the small waistline, either, of the fine young ladies who favor the waif look.
Ample in bosom, her figure surely depends on rigid corsetry to give it an
hourglass shape. The tightness of her very low-cut bodice threatens disaster
momentarily with every breath, yet, amazingly, everything remains held together.
Her long-sleeved gown is of black silk, edged in delicate hand-worked black
lace. A long strand of pearls is looped around close to her neck, and then a
second much longer loop hangs nearly to her waist. Several of her fingers, long
and thin despite her not-so-svelt waistline, are adorned by heavy jeweled
rings.
Izick
Your gaze falls
upon an unassuming figure standing about 1.75 meters tall with an average build.
Despite his thinning brown hair and gaunt facial features he holds himself with
confidence, obviously content with his older age and appearance. His attentive
brown eyes take in the surroundings and as he notices your glance, he smiles
briefly to you.
His modest tan
appears to be recently attained, as even his hair seems lightened by an extended
period of sun. In addition, you are able to ascertain that his ancestry is
obviously Western European, although a slight hint of some Mediterranean lineage
does make itself apparent.
He wears a
flowing burgundy cloak clasped with a gold chain attached to similar gold discs,
one with an inlaid red ruby Fleur de Lis. The other disc contains a corporate
logo with the ancient goddess Isis standing on a blue field, flanked by the
golden letters I-I on one side and E-C on the other. Underneath the cloak, he
wears a bleached white, collared, button down shirt and matching white trousers
tucked into worn, but polished, riding boots. He also now wears the gold sash
indicative of his position as High Councilor of the Mercature, the highest
economic office in House Moritani.
-----
The scene opens with the
Countesss Ophelia Moritani speaking with a couple of the Engineers responsible
for remodeling the Embassy. She is
joking with them and seems to be in a much improved
mood...
Izick smiles, happy to see
the Lady's mood is good. "Nothing terribly pressing, m'lady." He pauses for a
bit, as if considereing whether to spoil her mood. "Squire Escobar did make a
request to me eariler, however. He would like to bring a Children's Orchestra to
Kaitain... from his homeworld, I think.... to perform at the Imperial Theater.
After some checking, it seems there are some discretionary funds available in
the Fine Arts budget. If it's all right with you, I'd like to go ahead and
release the funds."
Ophelia nods as she listens,
then smiles. "An excellent idea... yes... do release the
funds."
Izick nods, "Thank you,
m'lady." He pauses again, obviously something on his mind. "My Lady, may I ask
you a question that has been plaguing me for some time?"
"Of course, Councillor..."
Ophelia says smoothly, though an eyebrow twitches slightly in anxiety, or worry,
over the nature of the question.
Izick takes in a deep
breath, holding it in for an unnaturally long time, then asks his question,
looking down at the floor as he does so. "Have I outlived my usefulness to the
House? Have I served adequately?" Another pause, his face turning upward to meet
Ophelia's gaze, searching for some unspoken answer. "More importantly, have I
served admirably? I just can't help thinking that I have allowed myself to be
sucked into the quagmire that is Kaitain politics. I do more work, but feel that
I /accomplish/ less with each passing day."
Ophelia's eyebrows come
together in a pinch, and she remains quiet for several moments. "Kaitain... can
be a leech upon one's soul. But I have not seen you ever be ineffective, Izick.
Do you feel so inadequate then? I surely have seen no such thing where you are
concerned."
Izick nods slowly, "Thank
you for your kindness, m'Lady. If you are pleased with my performance, that is
fine enough for me. But I can't seem to shake the feeling that perhaps I
returned to Kaitain too soon. Normally I would not even consider such feelings,
but I have been troubled by them none the less." Pausing to bring his hands
together in front of him, Izick's face shows a sudden distance, as if he were
somewhere else. "The passing of my father was... difficult for me. It brought
brutally to the forefront that here I am, nearly fifty eight years old, and
still not a father, nor a husband. I have given a lifetime of service to House
Moritani, and I am grateful to have been able to do so, but... I can't help
thinking that I owe service to my family... my father's memory, and perhaps to
my own. I have long been able to set aside these feelings, but it grows more
difficult by the day." After finishing, his focus returns to the present, his
eyes meeting Ophelia's, genuine anguish and pain evident in them, as if a
floodgate of emotion was savagely thrown open.
"The ties of blood are
indeed strong," the Countess says warily, folding her hands in front of her
strained bodice. And then, softly, she asks, "What is it your family would want
of you in service?"
Izick holds his hands
tighter in front of him, perhaps to hide their trembling. "My Lady Moritani, my
family has always granted me leave to serve, and they continue to do so. They
ask nothing of me, and nothing of you. But I cannot adequately discharge my
duties so long as I am troubled by the painful reminder that I have not seen to
the continuation of the Al-Qair name. I wish nothing more than to pass my
fortune on to a child... and perhaps to offer another generation of faithful
servants to House Moritani. I fear that I cannot complete this task here on
Kaitain."
Is the man asking her to
bed...? No, surely not. He needs a wife. Ophelia ponders the situation a moment,
her lips pursing. "If you wished a wife, Izick... a wife could be found for you.
One of noble blood, even. There are any number of beautiful, suitable candidates
here on Kaitain..."
Izick shakes his head, "No,
m'lady. I do not wish to have one 'found' for me. And I most decidedly do not
want one who has been tainted by the air of this place. I want a strong,
intelligent woman who I can /trust/ to raise my children as I would raise them
myself. One who will love me, and my children. I appreciate your offer of
assistance, but I think this is a quest best accomplished by... " He suddenly
stops, immediately aware of the way he is talking about what, to him, is held as
a most holy action. "You see? I've even started to let this place cloud my words
about marriage. It should not be a task to be executed, but a glorious journey
of the soul. I must clear my mind and soul of the pollution of this place before
I can even begin."
He drops his hands to his
side, as if resigned to his fate, "M'lady, I can no longer serve as an advisor
here on Kaitain... not right now, at least. As you can tell, I need to clear my
head and my soul." He pauses, summoning the power to say the next words, "My
Countess... please release me from my duties, before I /do/ disappoint you, and
myself."
Ophelia listens to
everything said, her brow once more creasing. Disappointment crosses her face,
and she swallows hard against the lump formed in her throat. "So be it," she
whispers, "Izick b'Rath al-Qair, you are released from all duties and
obligations under your title of High Councillor of the Mercature of the
Consistory of the Siridar-Countess of House Moritani. You are also discharged
from Kaitain, to return to Grumman to see to your personal... obligations,
without threat of later recall to Kaitain to resume said duties as High
Councillor... " She turns from the man, then, and begins to slowly make her way
towards the Conference room door, and perhaps even the solitude of her
office.
Izick bows deeply, his
expression one of release and sadness swirled into one. "Thank you, m'lady. I am
your servant, always." He pauses and watches her begin to leave. "I am...
sorry." He turns as she walks away, a tear unexpectedly forming in his eye. He
whispers to himself, "I will always be with you... that I
promise."
The door to the conference
room opens, and closes behind her with a firm *click!*.
Izick stands alone in the Hall, looking around for perhaps one last time. He slumps into one of the chairs and buries his head in his hands, weeping. Grieving, finally, for his father and himself.