The sound of tromping boots in the hall beyond crescendos into hearing.
But before any kind of soldier or guard might make himself visible in the room,
through the doorway waddles the Empress, a trio of her maids flocking about her
in a small swarm of brightly-colored silks. Once into the room, though, they
hang back to give her more space, as she surveys the room's occupants before
passing through to the hall beyond.
Layard kneels to the floor, first bowing, taking off his Chevalier cap with
peacock plume. The plume sweeps across the ground gracefully, as he takes it
under his arm as he kneels. "Your Imperial Highness."
At the entrance of Her Most Royal and Pregnant Majesty, Emylie is
immediately on her feet and into the deepest curtsy, skirts held back just so,
back straight and regal, chin tucked in respect. Not only this, but she holds
the position, stock still.
Tat'iana pauses to survey the pair, eyebrows both arched upwards. "I do
hope I'm not interrupting lessons," she says gravely. "However, it is 3:00. And,
I do belive, m'lord and m'lady, we have an item on my schedule?"
Layard remains kneeling, "That is correct, Your Imperial Majesty."
Rising, Emylie looks around the room nervously, conspiculously avoiding
glancing at Layard. She advances the few steps to the Empress, shaking her head,
"Your Imperial Majesty interrupted nothing."
"Come, m'lord, the floor is cold and not good for the fabric of one's
trousers," Tat'iana murmurs. She sighs, still clearly not entirely comfortable
with the idea of always being so fawned over. But again, her eyes sweep around
the room, and she spots a far more comfortable-looking chair than what is in the
hall beyond. As she slowly moves towards it, one of the maids, carrying a pair
of pillows, quickly makes her way to it and has the pillows settled well in
advance of Tat'iana's arrival to it. Easing herself down into the comfort of the
chair, Tat'iana smiles thinly at the welcome pleasure of the seat, and nods to
the hovering maid. "I do hope you don't mind if I move things here. In there,"
she waves a hand towards the Celestial Hall, "is far less comfortable for
me."
Layard shakes his head, standing, "I do not mind, Your Majesty. I
understand and have no objection."
Emylie pads anxiously after the Empress, hovering nearby. She chews
absently on her lower lip while waiting.
"I have asked you both to humor us with this gathering," Tat'iana says,
surveying each of the two in front of her carefully, "so that we might better
assess the Lady Emylie's progress with her studies. M'lord, if you would, please
do enlighten us as to your assessment of the lady's progress, hmm?"
Layard sighs, and then states stoically, with precisement. "The Lady
Fenring is proving to be above satisfactory when it comes to her studies, Your
Imperial Majesty. I have instructed her in Gallach, Literature, Etiquette of the
Court, and History. All of her exams, so far have been no less than 80 per cent
correct."
Emylie's face falls. Nervously, she bites on her lower lip, looking for all
the world like a rabbit cornered by a fox on one side and a cat on the other.
However, as Layard speaks, she grows a little huffy. "87%," she corrects as a
point of honor.
Layard remains stoic, looking over at the girl. Perhaps one day she shall
learn her place.
Tat'iana's head swivels towards Emylie as Layard gives his explanation,
and, bland of expression and very much so in control of her emotions, she says
carefully, "It seems that you have been working hard, m'lady. Then perhaps...
you might explain to us why you felt it necessary to throw the tantrum of a two
year old in front of His Lordship Charles Scaurus, the Count of Hasgraad and our
Imperial Treasurer?"
Sighing audibly, Emylie asks, "Did he tell you that?" Adopting the
expression of one who has suffered longly and without respite, she shoot Layard
a searching glance.
Layard does not speak until he is spoken to by the Empress. He remains
standing, with one hand on his hat, the other behind his back.
"It matters not with whom we discuss such things, m'lady," Tat'iana replies
tartly, then leans forward in her chair. "We asked of you a question. Answer it,
without further delay m'lady. Our patience is not what it used to be." The bland
mask of her face slips ever so much. Enough to show... she is deadly serious.
And quite irritable today.
Emylie's attention snaps back to that of the Empress. She curtsies before
beginning her explanation. "Your Imperial Majesty, the Imperial Treasurer did
accost me in the Cloisters while I was reading my lessons for Her Reverence.
Interrupting me, I did exchange no more than a few pleasantries with him before
he began to berate me for not studying economics. It was at this point that the
Lord Corrino here--" she indicates Layard with a lazy sweep of the hand. "--did
join us. At this point they both beset me with question upon question upon
question until I felt like I was either going to swoon or burst. I'm afraid I
did burst, which was probably not ideal, but given the leachery in the old man's
eye, should I of swooned he probably wouldn't have been a gentleman about it."
Rocking forward on her toes, Emylie nods knowing at this last and gravely too.
"So burst I did and I also later apologized but the Treasurer would have none of
it. My apology wasn't good enough for him. So I left."
Tat'iana then looks to Layard, but only a brief glance. Her focus returns
to the young lady before her, and her lips purse. "We have cautioned you before,
and more than one, about the inappropriateness of such outbursts, and of
outbursts in general, in this Palace. Within the confines and relative privacy
of your own rooms, m'lady, I don't give two figs whether you scream, cry, kick,
curse, or any other sort of unladylike behavior. But when in the other chambers
and hallways of this Palace, you /will/ remain composed. You /will/ act with
discipline and decorum. You, m'lady, are a Fenring and member of this Imperial
Court," Tat'iana pauses, drawing a breath, as she jabs downwards with a pointed
finger at the arm of her chair, her face coloring with a rising temper, "and you
will start acting it, or we'll bloody well see that you have none of the
privileges and none of the freedoms afforded you so graciously! Is this
perfectly clear to you, my lady?"
It's been a while since the Rastanyev temper graced the interior of the
Palace. Indeed.
Layard stands stoically, his breathing a bit labored in a way.
Emylie swallows, her eyes burning with the injustice of it all. Yet, out of
her mouth, in a meek, subdued, chastized voice, she manages a humble, "Yes, Your
Imperial Majesty."
Tat'iana hardly pauses a moment, as her tirade continues, "We have given
you much here. We have given you the time of a patient and honorable cousin, as
tutor. We have given you material things, jewels, clothing, horses even. We have
seen to your happiness and contentment. And is this how it will be repayed? When
our back is turned, we hear of disrespect given to another of noble birth in
these halls? This is unacceptable, Lady Emylie Fenring!" The Empress, too,
labors to catch her breath, but though winded her anger isn't spent yet. Not
quite.
"On the morrow, at dawn, it just so happens that the pain amplifier will be
put to use. You, m'lady, will be there to observe it. Every moment of it. You
will remember what you see. And when it is complete, you will begin your next
assignment. His Lordship, the Marquis, will oversee this assignment."
Layard swallows, asking quietly, "Your Imperial Majesty, may I ask who will
be the subject for the Pain amplifier?"
Shocked, Emylie stands with her mouth agape afraid to move, afraid to
breath.
The question distracts her, and blessedly so. The color of her face begins
to cool again, as Tat'iana turns to regard the man. "It is not yourself, m'lord.
Nor is it the Lady Emylie... this time. It is a servant, who thought to steal
from the kitchens." She sighs deeply, shaking her head. "I cannot make you
understand, can I? When not in your rooms, you are watched wherever you go. It
is not that someone has set someone to watch. It is just how it is, in this...
this gilded cage. And there are those who will be quicker to take insult over
lesser things." With the anger having faded finally, Tat'iana's voice is much
lower, and very grim. And then she urges, "Emylie, you /must/ learn! You
must!"
Layard remains standing, not looking over to Emylie, nor casting his eyes
to the Empress.
Emylie stands stilly for a long moment, thinking it all through. She darts
a pleading glance at Layard, but it falls away and she stares at the floor, her
face a mask of shame and anger. After many long moments, she blinks back the
tears gathering at the corners of her dark lashes, lifting her chin to face The
Empress. "I will, Your Imperial Majesty," she says through a tightened
throat.
Tat'iana's expression starts to soften, but she catches herself. Her own
chin lifts a notch, and quietly, she says, "M'lord... Lady Emylie will prepare a
letter of apology to the Lord Treasurer. And in her letter, in addition to
begging his forgiveness for the insult accorded him, she will request an
afternoon of his time for a lesson on Economics. Since, after all, every detail
of the Imperium is essential, including economics. I also feel that transcribing
from the OC Bible is no longer an effective tool. Tomorrow afternoon, she is to
begin writing, one thousand times, 'I will behave with decorum and grace at all
times, and I will show respect to those of my superiors always as dictated by
the faufreluches and the Great Convention. The Forms must be obeyed.'"
Layard nods, "As you wish, Your Imperial Majesty. The Forms Must Be
Obeyed."
"Oh that's so unfair," Emylie objects loudly, then bites her tongue, eyes
feral.
"Would you prefer the pain amplifier, m'lady?" Tat'iana asks archly, her
tone saccharine.
Emylie considers this, weighing the options. Her brow furrows in
concentration.
Layard remains silent. However; he would take the assignment of
course...after witnessing the pain amplifier under the Order of one of his
tutors at the age of six.
Emylie finally decides in favor of emotional humiliation over physical.
"No, Your Imperial Majesty," she replies dully, her spirit momentarily killed.
"I will do as you have commanded."
Tat'iana's expression begins to darken once again as she sees the young
woman's thoughts clearly on her face. "And as for your trip to Garrashu," she
adds, "You may consider your request denied. You will not leave the grounds of
this Palace again until you can prove to me you've quite earned that privilege
back."
Emylie scowls darkly, eyes flashing with deep resentment. But she says
nothing, nodding in aquiescence. "As Your Imperial Majesty wills it," she says
dully foreseeing an entire lifetime in her room.
"I will, of course, be willing to reconsider my decision at a later date.
That is all, m'lady, you may go now," Tat'iana says decisively.
Slade arrives from the Eastern Wing.
Slade has arrived.
Quite a cheery scene in the salon this afternoon. Perhaps. The Empress is
seated, cushions arranged comfortably for her, but in front of her is an
obviously admonished Emylie. Layard, as well, has the distinct fortune of being
included in this audience.
Layard stands, awaiting orders from the Empress as well.
Emylie curtsies deeply with all the newfound skill she has recently
mastered. Backing away from the throne, she turns and exists the room, narrowly
avoiding the Hegemon and wiping away the tears that can no longer be held back.
she fairly runs from the room in all haste.
Emylie opens the French Doors and heads back into the Eastern
Wing.
Emylie has left.
Clacking of a boots from the Hegemon is heard, liken to a eclispe as he
looms over the room. No expression can be seen in the face or glimmer in the
eye. To the Empress he bows low, "Your Majesty." Back to his fully erected
state, the Sardaukar takes his his stance near the Empress.
Tat'iana turns her eyes to the Marquis, seeking his face and his own gaze.
"Do tell me honestly, please... was that... perhaps too harsh?" She looks up to
the Hegemon, signalling the need for his attention, but also bidding him wait
where he is.
Layard sighs, closing his eyes. "Your Imperial Majesty, you know that I do
not question the authority of your office. However; perhaps this will teach the
young lady to have more respect for her position. She apparently does not
realize her importance in this Court." He brushes his hat off, "Perhaps this
shall do the trick."
The beckoning from Tat'iana is taken and Slade stands near with in arms
reach. His mass hovers over the room, remaining silent. He waits for fruther
word or instruction. To live is to serve. To die is to be honored.
Tat'iana nods slowly. "Your continued effort with the young Lady is indeed
noted, and appreciated. If this continues... I will bring in a Bene Gesserit to
see to her instruction. One with more specific skills to deal with a troubled
young pupil." The thought is dropped, though, as she turns to the waiting
Sardaukar. "Hegemon, see to it that at dawn tomorrow the pain amplifier is put
to use. Lady Emylie Fenring will be there to observe it. See to it that she's
informed of its workings and effects in great detail. Use it at the maximum of
its abilities."
A slight dialation of the nostrils of the order running through his head is
registered. Already a demostration is planned out. How well these men are at
what they do. "Yes, your Majesty. It shall be done." Slade remains where he is,
for anything else the Empress might need.
Layard suggests, "Perhaps, Your Majesty it would be wise to go ahead, and
have the Bene Gesserit tutor the Lady Fenring. I can only offer so
much...Education, Etiquette...perhaps a male aspect is intimidating for
her?"
Tat'iana nods slowly, watching the soldier's reaction. "Do not be afraid of
harming any delicate sensibilities you may perceive the Lady to have. To the
maximum extent, Hegemon, absolute maximum. And spare her no detail of its
workings to her." Spare the rod, spoil the child. Perhaps this little problem
will be nipped in the bud right away. Perhaps. To Layard, she nods briefly,
before beginning to push herself up out of the chair. It takes a few moment, but
when she is againt o her feet, she murmurs, "I will take your suggestion under
consideration, m'lord. It is appreciated."
Layard bows to the Empress as she rises, approaching her if she needs
assistance.
The Hegemon nods only once. "Understood, your Majesty." With her rising to
her feet, Slade steps foward a little, the faithful hound gaurding the flock.
Over protective he is but something so deeply breed in him that he unconsciencly
thinks to act. Though she does get to her feet the beast stays near. Chances are
nothing he likes and protection at supreme effecientcy.
Tat'iana waves away the hands almost impatiently, but then quips, "Save it,
m'lords, save it. It won't be much longer before I'll most certainly require
assistance both in sitting and standing."
Layard nods, and ceases with the assistance, allowing the Empress to stand
on her own weight.
Though she does speak, he does remain close. Well enough it is known that
Sardaukar never back down. But he keeps his eye on her. The Womb of Heaven. For
as all Sardaukar, he is column of the Imperium.
Tat'iana sighs yet again, but manages a gentler, warmer smile for the
Marquis. "Thank you, m'lord. Truly." And in an uncharacteristic gesture, she
reaches a hand out to softly touch his cheek. But, the touch is brief, before
she begins to waddle her way towards the door.