faderift | [ CLOSED ] WAR TABLE: INVESTIGATE COMTESSE DE VELONEY

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[ CLOSED ] WAR TABLE: INVESTIGATE COMTESSE DE VELONEY

WHO: Herian, Anders, Issana, Velanna, Pam, Malcolm
WHAT: A series of disappearances in the Orlesian countryside has culminated in the vanishment of some of the Inquisition's own scouts. A team has been sent to investigate the estate of one Comtesse Eléonore Vaillant de Veloney.
WHEN: Over the span of 4 days in the 2nd week of Harvestmere.
WHERE: Estate of Comtesse Eléonore Vaillant de Veloney
NOTES: Trauma, gore, dark themes, homicide, pretentious wine usage, other things not labeled as to avoid spoilers.

Welcome to the Estate

It is a terrible misfortune, all these disappearances- but with a civil war on and all this strange Venatori and Red Templar activity- with the rifts in the countryside? People simply not appearing where they ought is a sad reality. Nothing to be done for it. That such an esteemed noblewoman has found herself unjustly accused simply due to her wealth and prosperity? Cannot stand. Comtesse de Veloney invited the Inquisition herself to investigate her manor and put the matter to rest- they are to be afforded all the cooperation and respect imaginable.

Even the mages. Even the elves.

They are met at the gate by a veritable delegation of footmen led by the Gardener and Tanner to see them inside and out of the stormy, dreary weather. Packs are secreted off to rooms (a lovely set of suites in the east wing if the Steward does say so herself), baths drawn (The Comtesse insists, it's been just dreadful and they've come all this way), and a lavish banquet prepared.

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"Mm?" A wiry, elven girl with blonde hair tips her head in his direction, eyes still on her work but listening well enough as she stacks plate after plate on the cart to take them back for washing up. "We can't share the sausage recipe with even our own spouses should we have them, Ser, Nor the puddings or smoked ham- but for you? I make make an exception."

"Liddy," a broad, curvy dwarf huffs from across the table. "Don't sass the gentleman."

"It's only a little fun, Tess." Liddy sticks her tongue out at the other made, giggling. "I don't mean anything by it."

That at least one of them isn't giving an overly polite pretense is good news for him. "While I would delight in taking back even a portion of your pudding recipies, I'm afraid I'm not trying to solve the mystery of a most excellent meal."

Malcolm pulls out a chair at a cleaned off section of the table as to not get directly in the way and also not seem as though he's looming. Be casual. (Ugh, as Cassandra might say, casual is difficult sometimes.) "Ladies." With a small smile. "You seems as though you're enjoying yourselves. And from what I hear, everyone is treated quite like family. I admit I have rarely seen such a thing in Orlais before; I'd prefer to hear it straight from those who tend to be treated worst."

"Too bad. I'd have given it over for a song." Liddy looks to him long enough to wink before resuming her work. Across the way Tess sighs and shakes her head. Liddy does what Liddy wants and the rest of them make due.

It's quick work between the two of them- a word to the kitchen has another of the girls peeking around Tess' shoulder with a blush and a titter before taking the cart off their hands so they might stay and chat for a moment. "When we get company we make the fancier dishes to impress and whatever we make for guests? There's always enough made for everyone. So we're all happy for the visit."

Liddy nods, "Mhm. Elf, Dwarf, human, scullery maid or what have you- we all get fed the same food. Comtesse' orders. House maids get a little more to plump 'em up for their suitors but we don't mind none. They're nice girls. No one so much as shouts at us, we mess up Ignatia takes us aside and shows us how to do it proper. No yelling, no switching, no standing in a hotbox or anything."

He's not unused to attention, by it's been a while since he's been around so many interested women. If he weren't, alas, on a mission... "Is that so? Everyone is so eager to gossip around here, and I haven't heard terribly much good about Ignatia," he says in a lowered, conspiratorial tone. It's...not false, honestly, but he did also hear that these girls all love the cook. "Then again, there's a lot of tension going on between some of the staff, isn't there?"

"Well we all know our own business now don't we? Haven't had a fresh set of ears in here for, what? Three weeks?" Liddy tips her head at Tess, who nods. "Three weeks. Some baron or something trying to peddle wine or himself. Nice look'n man- well. At least from behind."

Tess sighs. "Baron Butterface. Such a waste of a good arse- if you don't mind our being candid, Ser."

"Little bit, here and there, the tension. Everyone knows Loupe and Edgar are going at it like rabbits behind their sheds. Everyone knows Gabriella thinks she should be gett'n paid more for what she does, or get some help. Everyone KNOWS Valery's superstitious and swings between think'n Miss Ignatia's a witch or a vampire depending on the month. Hitt'n the brandy a little hard at midnight, she is. Everyone knows Narcisse ain't spent a day of his life sober since he got the key to the wine cellar and that he and Gabriella USED to be knocking boots before she got all meaty and he got a terminal case of whiskey dick." Liddy snorts, leaning an elbow on the back of a chair. "You don't know, though, so it's fun to tell."

Liddy is. blunt. And he rather likes that, in this case. Maids might have the most reason not to get in trouble, but they also tend to gossip like mad. He's trying to recall names to positions-- "The butler and the butcher were an item?" That is genuinely surprising. That anyone could want to bed the eternal drunkard.

Listen. Malcolm does not spread rumours, but he keeps an ear open for what comes down grapevines. "And it does not seem wise to let a drunkard have access to the wine cellar. I'm not sure a drunkard should be making wine, but apparently what do I know?" He leans in, intrigued. "What about your Miss Ignatia, anything juicy on her? Or the Valet? I honestly haven't heard a thing about her yet."

"Mmhmm. Back when she had hips and he could get it up. Last year or so, before the gloves really took off." Perfumed leather gloves with such delicate stitching. All the rage in Orlais right now. "May I sit, Ser?"

If they're going to talk, she might as well be comfortable.

Tess rolls her eyes and settles across from the Seeker as is proper, waiting for Liddy to be done with this ridiculousness. "Narcisse never gets into the good wine so the Comtesse don't mind it. Miss Ignatia do cuz that's her cooking wine but they have an understanding - and there's nothing on Miss Ignatia cuz she does her job, does it good, and treats us right. She might smoke a little more of the elfroot than the rest of us but it gets cold, you see? Bad for her lungs this far south. She needs it. Clara- well. Clara's skittish around men. Think somth'n happened to her when she was younger. Won't say."

Good woman, Tess. Still, he'll indulge Liddy and give a nod to her question. "But otherwise there's no trouble with either of them," he concludes. Noted.

"Seems like things changed last year. Has anything else changed recently? Things out of the ordinary? Oh--" he adds as a faux afterthought, more like an example. "I'm told a Chevalier stopped by and left his horse. I cannot imagine being indebted to someone enough to leave them my horse. Know anything about that?"

"Past six months we been busy with new ladies cuz of the war, more sausage cuz of the war, and more gloves cuz of the war. You'd think we'd turn our leather to armor or something- but the Comtesse doesn't want to arm anyone that'd turn their blade against the people." Liddy offers, sitting sideways on the chair, knees slung over the wooden arm. More laying with one knee up than anything else, really. "More pots to scrub but the harder we work the better the drink at the end of the day."

"Might get whiskey, next time." Something peaty from the Marches. "Oh, him? I didn't get a good look at him-"

"I did. All the other House Maides had gone to bed so I got to draw the bathwater. Not a stitch on him when I got it good and hot. Though he coulda stepped in ice cold water and gotten things steamy in a good second or two, he was lovely. Climb him like a tree I would've, if he'd winked."

"Sounds like something strange could land on your doorstep and you'd be too busy to notice if it's not your job to. It's easy to forget the war hurts everyone, keeps everyone working harder, not just soldiers." Wow, Liddy, for all the pretend manners there's about...none actually in her. The impudence of her pose is actually rather impressive, and he's doubly glad none of their superiors are here to see the display.

"Might make it easy to lose track of people," he then suggests. "The Chevalier hasn't been seen since, I hear. Some of the other refugees going off without a prior word." Malcolm leans in, elbows on the table. "Maybe all the word of werewolves and hedgewitches are scaring people off. Ever get any weird feelings, strange things that might strike a person as off?"

"Seems like. It's what them road brigands count on when they try to jump merchants what come to trade or noble carriages with their fancy girls for the Comtesse to finish off proper." Liddy swings her feet oh so casually without a care in the world for how to properly sit in a chair or, well. Address her betters.

TO her, there are none.

Tess despairs quietly across from Malcolm. "Not really. We all sleep in the bunkroom next to the kitchens, yeah? All the creepy stuff happens in the garden or the middle bit of the house. You know- not either wing but, around the wine cellar, the study and the like. Can't really stand the smell of the Cellar, it's all lye and must down there and that can be unsettling if you're walking past that hall at an odd hour. Sometimes smells like rotten eggs too. Or like someone's gone and made a big platter of food and carried it down there. Always passes in the morning."

Liddy peers at Tess, baffled.

"...I take WALKS when I can't sleep, awright? I'm allowed to walk!" Tess huffs, crossing her arms.

He blinks a little, likewise baffled, not so much by the walking, but just by the casual admittance of 'creepy stuff' as if that's normal. "So the wine cellar has very unusual smells one normally wouldn't associate with wine." That is a little distressing. What is the butler doing down there? "What about the rest of the 'creepy stuff', as you say? The garden, the study?" His tone takes a gossiping tone. "You don't mean to say the place might be haunted?" No he doesn't believe that for a second, he just wants it to sound less like an interrogation.

"Pffff, haunted. No one died here save the Comte and he had his pyre ages ago like a proper Andrastian. You only get haunted if there's curses or demons or dead people. Now if the hogs are haunt'n us-" Liddy giggles, shifting till her back is on the seat and her legs up against the back of the chair, looking at the world upside down. "Well then we're in for some trouble, aren't we? Killed so many of them, the Butcher has, we're all goners for sure!"

"Liddy!" Whether to the sitting or the irreverence- Tess huffs. Sighs and props her elbows on the table. "It's an old house, innit? Old houses have old stone and old stone, it talks sometimes. It ain't STONE stone but- it's made OF stone and sometimes it talks. That's all."

"We're above ground, Tess. Stone don't talk." Liddy mutters, rolling her eyes.

"Well that's all I can say that explains the noises! Thuds like carrying a sack of potatoes down a ladder or something, maybe someone's gett'n a late snack or whatever."

"Yeah, but what about the garden then, ey? Ain't no stone in the garden to talk." Liddy twists her head enough to peer at Tess.

"Butcher probably letting her hogs have the run of it again, she does that sometimes! Usually when it's dark so no one see's 'em from the windows. They root around a little and muck up Roland's work but he hasn't pulled a knife on her in, wot, a year?" Tess shakes her head. "She's due another round of that lemme tell you."

This is all...certainly enlightening. Malcolm's a little owl-eyed at the whole discussion, that's all, and not at all about Liddy's...Liddy-ness. Let the ladies have their fun. "It certainly sounds as though there's never a dull moment around here if this is the normal for you," he comments. Hogs in the garden in the dead of night? (Presumably. Uncertain.) Strange thudding noises? Odd smells? People going at each other with knives?

It's still a lot of speculation and vagueness, but they're still interesting details that are really starting to paint an unpleasant image of this place under the surface of prettiness and efficiency.

"I shouldn't keep you terribly much longer, and I thank you for this morning of juicy gossip. Ah, there's another thing--is there a woman among you named Amelie? I should like to speak with her."

"It's like living in one of them Tethras stories sometimes!" Liddy exclaims, flipping herself the right way up so she can stand and push the chair back in against the table like it ought to be.

Tess sighs and does the same, dipping into a brief curtsy. "I'll send her out. She's with the Cook right now, working on a sauce for lunch- but I'm sure she'd be happy to cooperate."

The enthusiasm earns the girls a smile, small but with a flash of teeth. He's never read any of those stories himself, but, well, one does hear of them often enough. "I appreciate it, Tess, Liddy. I'll be right here."

(What is better than a handsome man remembering your name?)

Liddy giggles, swatting Malcolm on the shoulder before flouncing out with a saucy wink. Tess? Flusters a touch, ruddy skin gone pink as she coughs a laugh into her palm. "Yes she'll- right out, Ser!"

Tittering all the way back, tittering at the door, the call for Amelie deeper in the kitchen is answered by a tall, slim Vashoth girl peering through to Malcolm and murmuring "I'll be Amelie if he wants me to be-"

Shushed up with a whap of a drying towel before the actual girl- shorter, slimmer, younger than the Steward trips out among whistles and quiet cat calls before Tess shoos them all deeper into the kitchens. She dips a curtsy and wanders back around to his side, hands held in front of her, posture straight. "You wanted to see me, ser?"

Goodness but he wonders what would ever happen if these girls were let loose on the town for an evening. Nothing and nobody would be left standing.

He grows more serious when the actual Amelie comes forth, though he motions to the chair beside him. "Please, sit. I hope this will not take long, but you should be comfortable." Peers at the doorway for a moment, to see if there are any likewise peering faces trying to eavesdrop.

"Your sister worries after you. I wanted to be certain you are all right, first of all."

"She always worries after me." Amelie shrugs, as though it's as normal as the sky being blue and the sun rising in the morning. Still she sits, not wanting to make a fuss. "Is she saying Miss Ignatia's a hedge witch again- or is it that she's a vampire? Because she's not. Valery is- She doesn't like that I spend all my time with the other scullery maids. I mean if you look all the house maids, they're human."

"I'm sure this investigation only worries her further. She seems afraid that something might happen to you depending on how things shake out." He doesn't put much, if any, stock in the cook being a hedge witch, but he won't say so. "Unless there's another reason you can think of for her to be particularly frightful for your safety?"

"Well if you find your people in a secret room locked up somewhere we're all gonna get hung now, aren't we?" Terribly matter of fact, is Amelie. "She thinks Tess and Liddy and Winnie will be poor influences on me. The drinking and the smoking and carousing, she says. Miss Ignatia does say she wants to train me up, let me be her replacement when she starts getting too old to remember. She's been showing me how she makes the sausage, puddings, spices and the like. I been trying to find out how the pork's butchered for it so I know what cuts to use if the Butcher goes and gets herself fired. She might, she keeps on as she is."

Wow, maybe don't put that idea in the paranoid pessimist's head, that's an unpleasant thought. "Older siblings are like that, generally. Protective to a point. She just wants what's best for you, but she also needs to not worry when there isn't anything to worry over. But I would advise laying low, keeping out of the way, until this all blows over. Don't do anything reckless. Or she'll have my head on a platter, Seeker or no."

That said, he's hardly going to watch over her. He technically made no promises, but he doesn't want to see any of these ladies befall any terrible fates.

"Now, about this rift between your cook and butcher. It seems very strange indeed that you're allowed to work the meat without always knowing exactly what you're working with. And how, for all the work she does, the butcher has no other help. Did something happen between them, or is it just a clash of personalities?"

"Valery? Oh she'll yell plenty but she can't hurt anyone. Doesn't have the stomach for blood. Can't even watch us make a black pudding, really." But she sighs and slumps like a girl properly chastised.

"I ask about it- wasn't like that in any other kitchen I've heard of in Orlais, or Tevinter if Miss Ignatia is telling the truth. Just here. The Comtesse tries to get help for the Butcher but the girls either don't like killing the pigs or say cutting up carcasses makes 'em feel dirty. Butcher's none too kind to them either, always shouting. I've asked to work alongside her so I'd know how to do it, I'm not squeamish- but it's gone on so long she won't take anyone that's worked with the cook at all. It's stupid- it's gumming up the works and making our jobs harder, making her have to work more than she really ought which makes her more cranky. It's one of those broken cycles, ever spiraling downward."

"An outside hire might be better, and if the women are generally squeamish, perhaps a man will do. Any butcher around worth his salt, needn't have worked with the cook at all. Your gardener has an apprentice, after all. It doesn't seem so difficult to find a solution. But surely the Comtesse has tried before. After all, she seems to have turned this place around after her husband passed, so I'm told. No matter how good this butcher is, it doesn't seem good business sense to let her stay so long with no help and only harms everything in the kitchen."

He shakes his head. "And how is it that you're still able to make enough sausage, as good as it is, to make a particular name for the estate? There is one of the butcher only, and she doesn't even get on with the cook. Does she really go through so much hog?"

"Sell to the right people and you'll make a fine name. The sausage used to be made only for dinner parties and balls and the like while the Comte was still alive and nobles would come while they entertained. After he passed we didn't have as many but it's as much the mystery of it as the taste to give it a name." Simple business, really. "Add on something like scarcity or making it seasonal and suddenly everyone's talking about it."

In centuries when pumpkin spice lattes are a thing or the McRib? Amelie will be reborn and on top of that shit.

"Lately- I dunno. Since the war started we've kicked up production plenty- not even by the Comtesse' orders. Butcher's just had that much hog lying around and she says it's cuz the Steward keeps ordering it but Valery doesn't do inventory around here, Clara does, cuz the Comtesse can't run all the numbers on her own."

[ CLOSED ] WAR TABLE: INVESTIGATE COMTESSE DE VELONEY

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