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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Amelie? Yes. She works in the kitchens, with the cook." Still the Cook. Always The Cook. Ignatia is not a name that passes Clara's lips if she can help it. More fidgeting of her hands, tugging on her sleeves. The cuffs line up neatly with her gloves, making the transition from satin to leather as seamless as possible. "I just want what's best for the Estate. That's all any of us want."

Well.

"All most of us want. Some people are more selfish than others."

"That's always the case, I think. Someone wants more than what's fair for everyone."

Is it the Cook? Pamelia will bet a silver piece it is the Cook who is selfish. To someone. Possibly Anders.

"Do you think any of them are plotting with one of the neighboring lords?"

"What? No! They would never- even if they want more pay or better quarters they wouldn't-" She laces her gloved fingers, squeezing them tightly, forcing a wince out of herself. "They wouldn't. We are all grateful to the Comtesse. She's done so much for us."

"Oh! Please, don't'..." Hurt yourself, or whatever this woman is doing, and to that extent Pamelia reaches out and covers Clara's clasped, gloved hands with her own. She doesn't squeeze, but she does feel the odd pleating at the wrist, and the thinness of the leather. "I don't mean to cause distress, or worry, I just wish to know if the Comtesse is in some sort of danger. It's really all right."

Clara hisses between clenched teeth but goes still, the tension in her wrists locked in tight. Three pleats at her sleeves- and not empty. Something thin and firm, unyielding, like metal rest inside each slim pocket. Under the embroidered leather her joints are faintly swollen, her skin textured.

Burn scars, most likely, which are odd for someone this far from the Kitchens.

"They wouldn't. If they did I would know, and if I knew it wouldn't continue. She can't keep untrustworthy people in the Estate. Not when she's finally doing so well."

What. The. Void.

Pamelia lets go of Clara's hands, gently. Continues smiling, even as her mind is racing. Does she comment? Ask what happened? No.

She's honestly worried, now, that there are knives up this woman's sleeves. Literally.

"I believe you." No. "Do you know anything about the missing people?" Inquisition. Others. "Or where I should start asking?"

"Loupe mentioned seeing them at the edges of the estate, beyond the boundary hedge, some time ago. He thought they'd gone past to investigate one of the rifts in the woods or whatever is out there- they didn't come to us." Speaking directly to her own wrists, voice tense but even. Measured carefully. "If you want to know more of what he saw, ask him. But I think it is as he said. They skirted around and slipped off into the woods."

At first Pamelia considered the metal to be knives but on second thought; they are too thin, tapered, and she does not want to be in this room with this strange, possibly ageless woman any longer. "I shall. Thank you so much, for tolerating my questions. I hope the tea helps you, my dear."

Pamelia gathers up her skirts and makes her way out of the room, heart racing.

Clara says nothing at Pam's swift exit, attention still focused on the clench of her laced fingers.

Outside the Steward starts a bit when Pam comes about and grazes past her- there's an undignified little yelp before she claps a hand over her mouth. A moment more of quiet fear before it melts into self depreciating laughter. "I- beg pardon. Are you looking for your suite- or perhaps one of your fellows?"

Out of the fire and into the frying pan, it would seem; Pamelia keeps her smile affixed when she turns toward the Steward, even as her heart continues to pound in her ears.

"Valery, is it? Hello, again." Taking a breath, she shakes her heat, a veritable riot of curls. "Actually, I was hoping to speak with you."

No she wasn't, but she'll make it work. And she'll loop her arm through yours Valery, obviously you wouldn't mind would you?

"Yes, hello dear." Valery blinks a bit at the arm looped through hers- but the Comtesse did say to cooperate and this isn't hurting anyone. Gently as possible she pats Pamelia's hand, offering a warm smile. "I dare say I startled you as much as you startled me. How may I help you?"

A tour? A few questions? An excuse to walk away from Clara and her embroidery?

All the excuses; walk Pamelia does manage, and her smile loses a bit of it's nervous edge. "Well, I had two questions. I was hoping for the name of the young lady from dinner."

She'll wait to offer up the second question until they're further down the hall.

"The blonde elf that served you tea?" It takes Valery a moment to put a name to the face before she nods. "Ah, that'd be Liddy. Did you wish to ask her some questions? The Scullery Maids are where all the gossip tends to end up."

Whether or not that's to their benefit is up in the air. Valery walks Pam along, taking the first right, back to better staffed areas of the estate.

"Liddy." Pamelia lets her face relax into something less stressed all around, once they're closer to civilization, as it were. "I think that would be good, yes, but I also wished to ask you about the state of things here - the neighboring Lords, new additions to the staff, things of that nature."

"Yes. She's quite...spirited." And talkative. And peculiar to Valery, but then so too are most of the Scullery maids. "The Neighboring estates are as they have always been- not as profitable, not as well kept, not as charming. It makes them jealous of what the Comtesse has built for herself and those under her roof. The newest addition to the staff would be- well. Edgar, some five years past. Selling the suet and lard from the pigs wasn't profitable enough on it's own I suppose. Everyone else has been here at least eight years save for our House Maids- the newest of them would be Margret, from three years ago."

She has a sharp memory of these- it's her job to recall it all. "Or- well the refugee girls that come and go as they stay or leave but for the most part it is difficult to keep track. Some seem like they're settling in for a long while and sometimes they're gone with their family the next day."

Pamelia can appreciate Valery's mind for details; she nods as they walk along, committing the names to memory. "Is Edgar the butcher?" She really should've asked for some sort of staff list.

At the mention of refugee girls Pamelia nods. That makes sense, but that doesn't mean she won't pry. "Do you remember when the last group of them came or went?"

"Edgar is the Perfumer. The Butcher, Gabriella, came to us 8 years ago after Ignatia, our Cook, chased off the former who was trying to use sawdust to cut the meat for sausage to make our pork last longer. While I may question how she holds court with her girls- Ignatia does have the Estate's best interest at heart when it comes to our food." Which makes living here when things are tense more bearable, honestly.

"Of refugees? The last group came in...I want to say three months ago. A group of eight- three are still here. Two sisters and a brother- one's gone to the kitchens, one's in the house maids under me, and one works with Roland in the garden. The other five were two parents and three young ladies- I thought they were comfortable here but I suppose they found a better offer elsewhere? They left a little over a month ago."

"Oh!" It still is a little astonishing that the household has it's own perfumer, but she supposes that is the way of things when one is running their own little country in the midst of a civil war. "Of course. I'll learn everyone's name in time, my apologies."

And that's what this place feels like, she realizes. It's own small kingdom. Self-sufficient while the rest of the nation squabbles and starves.

"Was the Valet here when you came on?" Yes, she heard the story but it didn't add up, and thus.

"We tried selling lard and blossoms from the garden to a merchant and perfumer in Val Royeaux but it kept spoiling on the way there- doing it in house helps us keep things fresh as long as it needs. And don't mind it, dear." She pats Pam's hand. "It's all a little confusing when you're first coming in, even as a visitor."

The question about Clara, now, has her shaking her head. "My sister and I were here under the Late Comte's family. Amelie was too little to work but I was allowed to mind the house and her until she was old enough to earn her keep. When he brought The Comtesse and Ignatia here he stopped along the way in Halamshiral and hired Clara from a noble house there. She was such a skittish thing at first- jumpy around the men- The Comtesse wanted me to help her learn how things are done in this Estate particularly."

Pamelai gives the Steward a grateful smile. "Thank you. You have been such a help."

So then why would Clara lie? It seems a simple thing to say one was from Halamshiral, except. Well. Except for the fact that Halamshiral is tended by elves, primarily, save one or two mixed-blooded persons. So that tells Pamelia something more she didn't know about Clara. 'Skittish around the men' tells her something more.

"Has she always had such lovely gloves? She seems very...nervous. I worry about her health."

"Those? Those were a gift from Loupe, shortly after the Comte passed. She never takes them off- well. She has more than one pair- it' the reason we have the perfumed gloves to sell. Clara brought them to the Comtesse to see and it is the fashion in Val Royeaux to have perfumed gloves." The comment about her nerves, though. "She is skittish around outsiders- those from beyond the estate. But even then she hasn't ever been quite this tense."

She frowns, thoughtfully. "I'll have Ignatia make certain she's eating properly. Clara skips meals on occasion when she's tense."

"That is very sweet of him." So Loupe knows that her hands are burnt, has helped her conceal that fact from the others. "I've heard of this fashion before, though I never got a chance to see them up close. So thin, they're quite amazing."

At the mention of eating properly Pamelia nods. "I'm afraid I upset her without meaning to. She is very dedicated to the Comtesse, however, and I'm sure we will all be out of your way in a few days' time.

Until then...yes, I would love to speak with Liddy, and now is a good time I think."

"He treats her like a younger sister. Very gently and very kindly." Always has, now that she thinks of it. "Ladies gloves are usually silk or satin so they're thin enough- only Loupe has managed to make what we need with leather. It's remarkable, truly."

Valery gives Pam's hand one last light pat before slipping free, nodding up the hall to the kitchens. "I'll go fetch her for you- shall I have her bring you tea? You seemed to enjoy the varieties provided at dinner."

"I imagine she thrives under such care." Especially considering the woman's original skittishness around men. Yes, she'll have to speak to the tanner. How does one get leather so supple and thin as that?

She wishes she knew more about hides than plants but then again maybe not. At Valery's question she nods. "Yes, that would be lovely. And honey, as well, thank you very much."

Off to her room, then, to wait for Liddy.

It takes less than a quarter of an hour for Liddy to find Pam's rooms- the usual maid's dress rearranged just a touch. The bodice loosened at her chest, one sleeve dipping oh so slightly at the shoulder- giddy as she'd been during dinner in private? She's much more herself.

"You asked for me, Miss?"

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ENTER LIDDY