I never promised you a rose garden...

["Kathie Care" <kathie@availablelight.net>]

Rose Garden -- Moritani Embassy (Kaitain)

        The walled garden is by no means small, though it is sufficient in size
to provide peace and tranquility for those who wish it. A circular path of white
stones runs the perimeter of the area, while two perpendicular paths also
intersect in the center of the immaculately clipped green. Also, along both
sides of the circular path, lies a bed of roses, their velvety petals all in
shades of deep, rich red. Against the walls, the roses have even begun to climb
their way upwards with the help of white latticework trellises, spaced at even
intervals. White marble statues, slightly larger than life-size, stand among the
roses, their smooth-featured faces facing outwards. Along the building's wall,
tall windows and doors face out onto the gardens, and a pair of doors open for
those who would wish to enter the gardens from inside the embassy.

        On the far side of the garden, a single willow tree stands, its branches
dipping gracefully towards the ground in a falling arc. Behind the shadow of the
thick curtain of leaves, a stone bench sits, a perfect place for conversing in
private.

Exits:
 French Doors <W> leads to Banquet Hall -- Moritani Embassy (Kaitain)
 Stone Path <E> leads to Reception Courtyard -- Moritani Embassy (Kaitain)

Jacob walks in from Reception Courtyard along the Stone Path.
Jacob has arrived.


The afternoon is a peaceful, tranquil one, the gardens being largely quiet save
for the small sound of clipping shears. The gardener is tending the rose bushes,
trimming old blooms so that new ones might replace them.

The gardener isn't the only one soaking up the tranquility of the pristine
Moritani rose garden, however. Ophelia is seated on a stone bench, under the
shade of the willow tree; her gaze the unfocused stare of one who is
daydreaming.

Jacob glides towards the other Siridar in a curious fashion ... oddly silent
though making no obvious attempt to disguise his coming. He comes to stand
several feet away from Ophelia, just in the periphery of her vision, and waits
respectfully, clearing his throat just loudly enough to be heard, but not loudly
enough to startle. He is out of striking distance, of course, so as not to alarm
the guards (striking distance for an ordinary swordsman, anyway).

*There's a bone here. A bone. Somewhere. I hid a bo- wait... what's that?!
Noise! Where... she's there.. good. But.. but... another human, and he's >too<
close to MY human!*

A head pokes up from the nearby bushes, black ears pricked and nose quivering to
sniff the air. The nose, is, as well, smudged with the tell-tale dirt of a pup
who's been doing what some pups do best -- digging. The attentive pose only
lasts a split second, before she pops out of the bushes at a dead run towards
the stranger, nose to the ground to pick up his scent before she even gets
there. And even then, as soon as she reaches his feet, she's all over them and
his pants legs with her nose to, well, get to know him.

Ophelia blinks out of her reverie, a small smile turning up the corners of her
lips. "Jacob," she says quietly, then chuckles as the dog makes her excited
inspection. "I see you've met my little friend here."

Jacob watches impassively as the whirlwind of wrinkles and fur charges towards
him and performs acts that usually are allowed only after dinner has been
purchased by the perpetrator. Thankfully, his pants are matte black, and
designed for adverse circumstances (though perhaps not quite of this sort). He
peers down amusedly, and then looks up at Ophelia. "Yes, Ophelia, I've come as
you requested, as soon as I could." His smile is mild and indulgent, as he looks
down again at the heap of fur. "I would be honored to receive as vigorous a
greeting from you as from your little friend, here."

Ophelia calls the dog to heel with the snap of her fingers, and a gutteral
command; obedience happening at once with the tail sweeping back and forth
across the ground. But her brow arches delicately at the mention of her actions
mirroring the dog's, even though she chuckles. "You should know by now, Jacob,
that I do not get on my knees for just any man."

And then business interferes with any further jest: "I... had thought we might
schedule something. I did not mean my note to sound like a summons..."


Jacob raises an eyebrow himself, and speaks drily, "No, indeed, you don't. You
seem much more suited to issue commands and have them obeyed." He offers a quick
grin, and a nod towards the pup, indicating its impressive obedience. Then, more
seriously, he shrugs slightly. "It's a nice day, and I thought I might find you
here. Sometimes spontaneous meetings are more productive than those planned."

Ophelia's warm, but small smile remains in place as she lifts her hand to
gesture to the remainder of the bench next to her -- it's plenty of room for
two, and then some. "Would you care to sit, then?"

The pup shifts closer to Ophelia, though carefully enough to perhaps not get
called to task for moving. The shifting, too, puts her definitely between the
man and her mistress.

Jacob, who usually qualifies as one and then some, flows smoothly into the
indicated perch, inhaling deeply of the scent of the garden. He casts a
mock-weary eye on the protective beastie, making a show of assessing its
potential for danger. Likely a good shoe-cleaning is the worst damage it could
inflict. "I was a little ... worried at the tone of your note. It sounded
urgent."

The pup seems to sense that there are eyes on her, or, she's just turning to see
what *he* is doing so close to *her* human. She sidles closer again to Ophelia,
and turns around, her head resting on a black-skirted knee as she sighs a
lip-rippling sigh.

"It was, yes," Ophelia says quietly, her hand resting lightly on the dog's head.
"Though... I'd not intended to meet with you alone."

Jacob inclines his head slightly as if conceding a point. "Then I await your
instruction as to what you would like me to do ... who else do you need to be
present?" His tone seems a little forcedly casual.

Ophelia reaches up to touch her communicator, speaking into it a set of
rattled-off instructions in Highspeak. At her conclusion, she looks back to her
guest, meeting his gaze evenly. "Jacob, I wish I knew what other way to do this.
But I find myself in the precarious position of being between two Houses in a
dispute which even extends to touch the throne. Please... I beg of you, do not
hate me for what I must do."

Ulricke walks in from Reception Courtyard along the Stone Path.
Ulricke has arrived.

Jacob's eyes narrow slightly and his posture seems to tighten in a
barely-perceptible manner. "I'm not sure what it is you refer to, Ophelia. But
if you must do it, how could I resent you for it?" His tone is noticeably tight.

Fahahd walks in from Reception Courtyard along the Stone Path.
Fahahd has arrived.

After an appropriate amount of time, Ulricke enters, Fahahd in tow. She offers a
bow to Ophelia, and turns to study Jacob a moment. "Marquis." she says, tone
distinctly distant. Addressing him as such is a change...she more often refers
to him as 'Master' as deference to him as her teacher.

Jacob turns to view the newcomers, his expression guardedly neutral, even
placid. He blinks once, and says in a flat tone: "Lady Harkonnen." He turns and
looks at Ophelia, and back to Ulricke, seemingly content to wait to find out
exactly what's going on.

Ophelia nods towards the entering Harkonnen, her own expression remaining
neutral, and, almost placid. The serenity of the rose garden does wonders for
the outlook one has on life.

"Thank you for coming so quickly, m'lady... I regret that I was unable to give
more notice," she says, her voice deep, her r's rolling leisurely.

Marco walks in from Banquet Hall through the French Doors.
Marco has arrived.

Ulricke says easily, "It is no inconvenience, Your Excellency - I did inform you
that I would be at your disposal when the opportunity arose." Arms folded
neatly, she regards the pair with an air of patience. Jacob would recognize the
patterns of breath and movement of muscle - Ulricke's veneer of calm hides a
terrible fury.

Jacob slowly stands, one fluidly practiced motion carrying him into a ready, but
not threatening, stance. To no one in particular, he mutters, "I think it's
about time somebody told me what the hell is going on here." His tone is still
quiet, and his face seems almost passively observant.

From the banquet hall arrives three black clad servants holding chairs for the
Moritani guests in their gloved hands. Marco leads the prosession out and
motions for the servants to follow him over to where the group has gathered. The
Count looks to Ophelia and nods letting her know that he is here with out
inturrupting. The servants place the chairs down for the guest and wait around
if drinks are needed. Marco stands near the Countess.

Anakiel walks in from Reception Courtyard along the Stone Path.
Anakiel has arrived.

Ophelia casts a quick, almost pleading glance to Ulricke, before her attention
diverts to Jacob. "My dear Cousine.. I am in the unfortunate position to inform
you that I have certain confessions from certain invidivuals concerning the
whereabouts of one child, namely, a young Vladimir Harkonnen. Because of whose
custody the child was given to, it is only logical that one might then follow a
course of the child's whereabouts to your door. It would be in your best
interests if you would have the child turned over to Lady Harkonnen... as soon
as possible."

Ulricke snarls, "Your precious wife-to-be stole my brother, Lord Marquis. And
you permitted her into your home. If you knew of this, then you have violated
the sacred trust between teacher and student between you and I, if nothing
else - and by the very fact that you have begun to teach her Imperial Highness
so casually what others have to earn to even begin the lessoning...that too,
violates this trust. All that aside...I. Want. My. Brother. Back." she lifts her
chin. "And I am prepared to do what is necessary to get him from you...or from
her." The venom with which Jenaa is mentioned is thick and heavy in the air.

Jacob's eyes narrow again, though his expression is of a man trying hard to
follow along, rather than a man angered. His posture is still tense, as he
senses some sort of unexpected situation, possibly dangerous, falling into place
around him. "I'm ... afraid I don't quite follow, Contessa. Perhaps it would be
best if you would spell out your accusation in more detail." He turns to blink
once, as Ulricke delivers just the detail he was hoping for. "I will not be
scolded about whom I take into my training room, my house, or my bed, Lady
Harkonnen. All of those things are my business. Nor do I know at all of what you
speak ... your brother? Are you saying that Her Highness kidnapped someone, and
I'm somehow involved in this?" He's either genuinely confused, or a terrific
actor.

Marco folds his thick arms over his chest watching the goings on. His blue eyes
flip between the two at the moment as he walks closer to Ophelia. He quirks an
eyebrow up as he looks to her.

"Her Highness had possession of the child," Ophelia says, her calm facade not
cracking in the slightest. "And given rumors I had before of strange packages
going to and from your embassy from the Palace, the pieces are fitting together.
The child, Jacob. He must be returned to the Harkonnen, immediately. In Lady
Harkonnen's protection, he will come to no harm."

Jacob speaks softly. "The 'strange packages' were communiques between her
Highness and I while she was in hiding. Contrary to what seems to be the popular
belief, her Highness was /not/ holed up in my bedroom."

Fahahd dares to edge closer to Ulrick, to murmur into her ear.

"Then surely you would know where your betrothed has hidden the child? It's no
wonder His Majesty was so incensed over this," Ophelia retorts immediately.

Marco's presence, finally, is noted by the Contessa with a scant nod.

Ulricke tilts her head. "Indeed. Tell me, Marquis, why would the Imperial
Princess fear His Majesty so that she felt compelled to masquerade as a commoner
working at the spaceport...if not to hide Vladimir?"

Jacob grunts softly. "I do not know where she hid during that time. I did not
ask; it was safer that way. I will say this much: Her Highness had reasons for
leaving, that were wholly unrelated to this matter." He pauses momentarily, then
adds, "At least, the reasons she gave me were sufficient on their own, and I
will not share them now." He turns to Ulricke, tone still smooth and calm. "You
say that Her Highness had this .... Vladimir in her possession? How would this
have come to pass? I was not aware that the Baroness was recently with child."

Ophelia sighs quietly, her eyes rolling slowly around. "Come now, do not be
absurd. The child is by Malia, formerly known as Lady Ceile. Everyone knows
this..."

Marco glances around the garden, letting his eyes fall on to the doors of the
banquet hall briefly before turning back to the matter at hand.

Anakiel, who came in with the other, sandy-haired guardsman, simply stands in
unmoving silence in the background. Watching, perhaps, perhaps not, but
remaining unobtrusive.

HAving given Uli his little bit of information, Fahd edges back towards Anakiel.

Ulricke says bluntly, "There is proof that Malia arranged to have Jenaa take my
brother. And it was not made under Harkonnen style 'duress', either." Her rage
seeps into her eyes, turning them cobalt. "Your 'beloved' has either lied to you
by ommission, or you are a very convincing actor, Lord Marquis."

Jacob almost seems to grin ruefully at Ophelia's statement, caught stalling for
time. He turns to Ulricke slowly, considering his words carefully, speaking
slowly and clearly. "If what you say is true, Ulricke ..." his use of the
familiar seems an afterthought, "I may be able to locate your brother for you.
If all this is true, and your claim just, then he should be returned to you, and
he will be." He pauses again, and adds very quietly: "I did not know, Ulricke."

Ulricke just looks at him, allowing the merest second to reveal how betrayed she
feels before the mask drops. Then to Ophelia, "Your Excellency...would you be
willing to enlighten the Marquis as to the nature of our certainty?"

"There is proof of the claim, yes, if it is needed," Ophelia says quietly, her
eyes turning to Marco, her question of him asked after only a beat's pause. "Did
you bring it?"

Jacob blinks, once, and turns to Ophelia. "If you both swear there is proof, I
will believe it."

Marco nods keeping his icey expression and distant stare, "Yes, your Excellency
I have it."

"I am not accustomed to having to swear oath to the truth of my words," Ophelia
says coolly, letting her sentiments on the insult ring clearly. Her hand lifts,
towards Marco, expecting an item to be delivered by the gesture, her lips
pressed into a thin, straight line.

THe guard has sidled another step closer to Anakiel, leaving him a bit nearer
than propriety approves.

Marco pulls something out of back pocket and places it in to the hand of the
Countess. A shigawire recorder/player.

Anakiel offers a subtle little nod to the guardsman, lacing his long, gloved
fingers behind his back. One might wonder why the Harkonnen brought a Jager
along... even if he -is- the smallest one they have.

Ulricke infers in a half-purr, half-growl, "I doubt it's so much to defer to our
honor then it is to hide his eyes from the truth of Jenaa's deception."

Jacob folds his hands in front of him and watches patiently, a calm gaze towards
Ophelia. "Nor am I accustomed to being ambushed with accusations under the guise
of friendship." His head turns to regard Ulricke coolly. "/Her Highness/ did not
deceive me."

"Oh," replies Ulricke, "Is there another word for 'lie by ommission' in Galach
that I'm not familiar with?"

Ophelia downright scowls, the cool facade finally breaking. "Had you heeded the
words of my request, asking for a meeting to be /scheduled/, then it would not
have seemed such an /ambush/. Tis no fault but your own, Jacob Ginaz." Angrily,
her thumb hits the playback button, and small voices come from the speaker of
the device in her hand:

--------------------------

"I asked a question, and I expect an answer," the voice of the Countess says
with the ring of iron-clad resolve in her voice. "Now, answer me, or I shall
strongly reconsider any 'sanctuary' I might have offered you and turn you
over to Harkonnen this instant. How did your son go missing, who took him,
and where is he?"

"I...I gave him to the Princess, your Excellency. I really do not know where
he is now."

"That does complicate things, doesn't it? I would guess... His Majesty does
not know the actions of Her Highness in this..."

--------------------------

Jacob rumbles ferociously, "I was asked for a favor, and I performed it. Now you
ask me for help with something ... I will do all that is within my power. But
don't toss accusations around before you know what occurred, for I may lose my
inclination to help." He turns to Ophelia. "A slave, under duress, may say many
things. Ordinarily, I would question your devotion to the words of one such as
her. But given the situation ..." he glances at Ulricke ... "I'll look into it.
In the meantime, I caution both of you to hold your tongue, lest you make
enemies out of those who would try to help."

"Given that it was right after our audience with His Majesty to turn the little
chit over to him that your precious betrothed up and ran away, I'd say her guilt
is as plain as day," Ophelia quips waspishly, rising from her seat on the bench.
"When will you open your eyes, Jacob? She's playing you like a puppet, pulling
your strings to make you dance like a marionette. Ever since you first saw her,
that spoilt child has fluttered her doe eyes at you and made you jump each time.
Look at the way she manipulated you in front of many of the nobles of the
Landsraad at your own engagement party! Your help isn't being /asked/ here,
Jacob. It is expected. She got you into this mess by association and deceit. Now
it must be cleaned up."

Given the speed at which Ophelia rose from the bench, the pup's drowsing head
was quite dropped off her resting place on her lady's knee. She picks herself up
immediately, ears pricked forward in alarm at the tension mounting as she places
herself square in front of Ophelia. Yes, let anyone who dares come through her.
Big, brown eyes move from one person, to the other, to the other, her eyebrows
moving with each change of direction.

Marco looks over to Ophelia.

Ulricke inquires softly, "And what will you do when it's proven true, Lord
Marquis?" inquires Ulricke. Oh, that dangerously quiet tone.

Jacob's gaze darts from Ophelia to Ulricke and back, a smug look on his face. He
starts to say something, thinks the better of it, and stops. "If it's true, then
I'll do what must be done. No more ... and no less."

Fahahd can't entirely help himself - he rolls his eyes.

Jacob does fix Fahahd with a glare, recognizing him for the first time.
<<Clearly, he knows something that I do not. And I have no idea of the
relationship between him and Jenaa. I wonder how much of this was his doing?>>

Ophelia sighs quietly, her gaze turning to Ulricke. "Do let us know if you
choose to pursue kidnapping charges against House Ginaz. It seems I have done
all that I could to keep this... friendly." Lifting her skirts just above the
neatly-trimmed blades of grass, Ophelia steps away then, the large black pup
trotting off at her side.

Though, of course, the pup does pause ever so briefly to give Fahahd one of
those dog-brow creased looks of worry. *No love for me? No treats? But... aww...
oh! oh! Wait up! Here I come!*

Fahahd meets the Marquis's gaze with utter blandness for a moment, before
demurely glancing away.

Jacob snorts at the departing Contessa, and looks to Ulricke. "If you're done
accusing me, I'd quite prefer to retire to my Embassy now. If you truly wish my
help in the matter, send me all of the information you have. You know me well
enough to know that I'll do what I can."

Ulricke looks at him coldly. "Let me assure you, Marquis, the wound you suffer
for being 'accused' is /nowhere/ close to the anguish I have felt at the loss of
my Vladimir." Yes, perspective, shall we? Great Mother Space knows that Ulricke
comes from /such/ a loving home, that perhaps her fierceness in this is
reflective of the one wholesome familial relationship she has. "I'm sure you'll
make every effort to bring him back to me." she says. "My word, Jacob - she must
really do something for you that even /I/ couldn't manage, if you plan to cover
even for this."

Fahahd tries to stifle a wince at that last one, but makes no comment. He's
fallen under Jen's spell before.

Marco remains at Ophelia's side. Mainly his attention is fixed on Ulricke and
Jacob.

Jacob speaks softly. "I applaud your attempts to enrage me in the hopes that
I'll say or do something rash. I've taught you well, it would seem, and you
always were a good student. You've heard my intentions, and I yours. You'll hear
from me again, shortly, when I understand the situation better. Until then, I
remain cheered and heartened by this indication that you've taken my lessone to
heart." He grins maddeningly, and smoothes his jacket, readying to depart.

"I'm the best student you've ever taught." Her tone challenges him to deny it,
but she only bows. "Good day, Lord Marquis."

Jacob nods a wordless farewell, and walks out.

Fahahd falls into line with Ulricke, with a certain insouciant swagger to his
gait.

Anakiel, meanwhile, turns sharply on his heel, moving to follow. Throughout the
entire exchange, he hasn't so much as smirked or twitched.


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