faderift | OPEN ↠ THE WINTER PALACE, PART II

OPEN ↠ THE WINTER PALACE, PART II

WHO: Open to all.
WHAT: The War of the Lions comes to a head with tense peace negotiations scheduled for a grand Winter Palace ball
WHEN: This is forward dated to ~~Firstfall 30~~ Wintermarch 15. Set following the events of Part I, located here.
WHERE: The Winter Palace, Halamshiral, Orlais.
NOTES: Please make sure to read the OOC post for more info!

It is a wonderful night, isn’t it? A beautiful party. The Empress has outdone herself. The entire evening has been remarkable, whether from the perspective of one enjoying the spectacles provided by the Inquisition, or the nuances of the Game, or even the more superficial entertainments of the evening - the music, the food, the dancing. All of it is wound together into an evening that will surely be memorable for some time to come.

And then everything begins to become rather more complicated, although admittedly still very memorable.

The first sign that things might not be as they should be comes when the doors to the main hall slam shut, and are rapidly sealed. The realization that all is not well might not spread through all areas of the Palace with equal speed, but it cannot be said that the element of surprise is neglected throughout. The Freemen of the Dales have come, and the Freemen will see to it that they finally claim what is theirs.

THE MAIN HALL.

Two things become rapidly apparent. First, the evening is not going how Celene had intended. Equally apparent is that this is not what Gaspard planned, either.

They both of them find themselves in close quarters with men and women that are armed - human, elf and dwarf alike, though the latter are in small numbers and the humans dominate the group. There are a good many elves, though, more than one might expect to find in the company of former chevaliers. Some of the invading party have slipped from the guise of servants, others are more obviously marked as Freemen of the Dales who have only just arrived.

In terms of numbers, armor and weapons, the arrival is alarming, and nervousness is palpable in the hall. Worse still, they are not alone. The apparent leader of the Freemen, a man with mustachios that would make a walrus weep, stands shoulder to shoulder with Red Templars, the red lyrium glow seeming all the more strange in the ambient light of the party. There are cries of panic from some, the gasps and outrage of many as they realize what is unfolding, and the sickening realization that despite there being a good many skilled warriors in the room in the form of noble men and woman from across Orlais, they have no weapons to retaliate with, as per the rules of entering the Winter Palace. The atmosphere is one of sickening dread. (And at least one noble is stress eating every lemon tart in sight. Can you really blame them?)

Celene, for her part, issues an order for her people to remain calm, before an elven man turns to hold the point of his sword to her throat. She does not speak further, but continues to hold her head high.

Walrusface - or, more correctly, Charles Walthier, a man of some sixty years and considerable reputation before he departed for the Freemen, steps forward. There is a ripple of chatter, and one of Gaspard’s men approaches in indignant protest, an outburst in Orlesian about conduct not befitting a chevalier. The man is cut down by a red templar before he can draw breath to continue his tirade.

Before any further heroics or speeches can be attempted, Celene and Gaspard are both swept out of the ballroom. It may be tempting to follow. But most of the doors are now barred, and the last four Freemen to leave behind the Empress and Pretender turn to fire flaming arrows at high draperies scattered throughout the hall. The only open doors lead to balconies with drop-offs that range from dangerous to suicidal, but they're nonetheless swarmed by the best-dressed frantic mob you've ever seen.

SERVANT QUARTERS.

From further away, a regular chant can be heard from the main hall: Freemen, Freemen, Freemen. At a signal, some servants are casting aside their disguises, and clusters of armed men and Red Templars are entering, some from rooms, others from hidden passages. They're ready to fight those who try to get between them and the nobility. Some of them are also willing to talk to those who seem willing to listen - about casting off the yoke of the Orlesian nobility, about reclaiming the Dales for the common man and elf alike. But none are particularly willing to let the servants and guests in the common room mount a rescue of the screaming nobility in the ballroom and gardens. If you want to try, you'll have to sneak out.

Or you can barricade yourself in a room and let the nobility look out for themselves. No one will know.

THE GARDENS.

The scents of jasmine and roses fill the air. So do screams. Evidently the Freemen and their corrupted Templar assistants have no concern about lawn preservation, hedge maintenance, or making sure exquisite fountains aren't ruined. What isn't trampled might be torn down or lit on fire. And in the midst of the chaos, an elf climbs up onto a pedestal alongside a statue of embracing lovers - lovers with oddly familiar noses - and holds a marble should for balance while he interrupts the common rallying cries of Freemen! with For Calpernia!

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"Do they have any keys?" Korrin peers at the body, though she doesn't get in the way of Araceli's investigations. Servants carry little on them as it is, and it's unlikely that most will be of use to them in the near future. Keys, though, could prove vital. Or those halla statues, but that seems a lot less plausible.

Tearing her gaze away from the servant in an attempt to remain alert to their surroundings, Korrin frowns in thought. "We need a good view of the area, or we'll be going in blind." She pauses, then reluctantly suggests it. "...parkour time?" If anyone can climb high enough to get a view of the gardens, it's Araceli. She wouldn't trust herself to do it fast enough, let alone these civilians in cumbersome clothing and horribly impractical shoes. The thought of Araceli being a target makes her heart clench, but if she casts a barrier for her kadan, she should be alright...for a short while.

Crouching isn't comfortable in this gown since there are times where you have to make sacrifices, and tonight Araceli has sacrificed movement for fitting in, garbed to entice, to make sure she doesn't offend or ruffle any feathers and the edge of the corset digs in uncomfortably as she pats them down. That they're still warm is-- it is what it is, she supposes, and she has to turn the body over to continue the search to reveal that it's a young man who could probably be about ages with her and Korrin.

"A key." Of course she has no clue where it's for but she holds it out for Korrin to take as she straightens out the elf's clothing, folding his arms so he looks slightly more peaceful, a quiet murmur of apology for what happened to him following as she gets to her feet. "Think you can find the right door?" Nothing too ornate or elaborate, so hopefully that means a gate or a door and not just some cupboard where they keep expensive ingredients to safeguard them against potential thefts.

Because if she goes up, she can see where Korrin is, probably double back around if she has to or lead whatever comes after her somewhere else before she hides. "This wasn't how I thought my second social engagement such as this would go," she mutters, but she's done this before, albeit when the stakes weren't so high, when she was doing it for fun or to show off. "I should've tried to find a weapon for you, something to swing would've been better than just your magic alone. If I see an opportunity…" Well she'll do her best, a quick glance behind her before she makes her way up with her dress trailing behind her.

For her part, Korrin's grateful that she wasn't expected in the ballroom and so her attire isn't nearly as restrictive. She takes the key in hand and nods, thinking along the same lines that it's likely to lead them somewhere useful. And it's slightly less attention-drawing than Stonefisting every door open that they find.

At that offer, Korrin smiles. "I'll take whatever you can snag." Thank Shokrakar for a little basic training in the major weapon groups; she might be rusty, but muscle memory won't completely fail her. Gesturing to the civilians to come closer, she eyes them sternly. "If you want to live, then do as I say, when I say it. Now, follow me and stay together."

With that, she heads slowly and carefully in the direction of where it's presumed the servant must have come from. There is a gate much further ahead, but considering how much open ground they would have to pass through, making them perfect targets, Korrin desperately hopes that isn't it. Gesturing for everyone to halt until she's sure there aren't enemies nearby, the Vashoth woman then approaches a nearby side door. For the Winter Palace, it's not blindlingly ornate, so perhaps it might be the key's match.

If they need to, Araceli's got plenty of hairpins since guards at parties can't suddenly go confiscating those or it would surely cause riots. Unfortunately Orlais isn't Castileos where Araceli's normal jewellery wouldn't have anyone batting an eyelid. Maybe Antiva would shrug it off but Orlais has too many rules to push it.

Up above, she can hear more and what she hears-- Well, there's very little she can do about the shouting elsewhere, or the smoke that's rising, only that she has to be aware that what she can use to her advantage, the enemy can use to theirs, and that smoke rises. It'd be very easy to start choking and she can't risk having to shout for Korrin who won't be able to get to her easily.

There's an archer. She has no throwing knives on her and the one blade she does have is her only weapon, and it's too heavy to be any good for that. Up top with her and across the way so she skirts around, hoping to get behind him before he can spot the group Korrin has to lead because without any armour they're going to be alarmingly easy to pick off one by one. Still, Araceli does find one of the small coins she picked up earlier that she'd been going to toss in the fountain when a break in her playing had allowed, tossing it hard as she can in the opposite direction so he'll be facing away from her.

He mutters to himself, cursing about the song, the damned song, he wants to hear it louder-- and she takes the chance to dart across without looking down to see what Korrin's doing.

That the door could be the key's match would make for an unprecedented stroke of luck, so naturally that's not the case. Some of the civilians gasp and recoil at the stream of swearing from Korrin, certainly nothing that would be allowed in more civilized times. But this isn't the ballroom and the Vashoth woman is just so done with everything around her. She's earned the right to vent, dammit.

So, she ushers them along impatiently, searching for the next keyhole. That's easier said than done when she simultaneously has to be aware of their surroundings, since none of the civilians seem capable of defense. Renewing barriers when she can, Korrin orders them to at least use their eyes and keep a lookout for their enemies. They have some close calls when she focuses on the next couple of doors, frustration mounting as her attempts fail only to be interrupted and have to pause to take out a pair of roaming Freemen who are thankfully already injured.

What she would give to have Lux here so he could play lookout, but while every Fereldan could bring their great lumbering hounds to be parked in the kennels, not so with a fox. (Not that she bothered checking those rules, if she has to shut him away in Castileos at the feasts and the parties and everything else then naturally it would be the same in Orlais unless there was something to be gained by having him with them, and nothing suggested that there was.) Lux would be helpful up here. A distraction, a pair of sharper eyes and ears than hers.

As it is, she watches as he moves, makes the leap over the wall and just manages it because the dress weighs her down.

The punch of the rapier up and through him produces a quiet gasp then a muffled thump when she can't steady his weight as the life goes out of him. Bards and assassins overlap but she doesn't have the build for big men really, though she will rifle through his pockets, patting him down like she would an unconscious mark.

There's something on him though (not a key, why would there be a key?) that he had to have taken from someone else he killed, a blade that doesn't belong on a man like that; it fits neatly up her sleeve, and she smiles taking his arrows too because neither of them are archers but they can still stab people with them.

"Sirena," stealth greetings are great, though she slaps a hand over the mouth of a young woman that makes to scream in fright. "You can have my knife now, I have something better. And some of these."

Given that Korrin doesn't exactly trust her companions to be effective lookouts, she listens carefully while testing the latest door. Hearing Araceli's voice again is a welcome relief, both for her kadan's safety and the fact that she doesn't have to babysit these fools by herself anymore. They're still alive and breathing, but she half-expects at least one to run off in a panic and remedy that.

Looking over her shoulder, she grins. "Excellent, I'll take it until we run across someone with a staff." And that the door swings open, prompting her to straighten and peer into the darkened hallway it opens up into. So far, it's quiet and given the chaos outside, she doesn't see any alternative. "I'll summon a wisp and take point. Maybe this area is overlooked enough for us to have a chance."

"Do any of them have mages?" None of them are Venatori, that Araceli knows but since she'd spent so long having to recover, she's at a disadvantage when it comes to whoever is attacking them that isn't a Red Templar. They aren't mages, the clue is in the name, though the line at times feels distinctly blurred when she sees what they can do, what they've become, what lyrium is able to do to people.

Slipping the knife comfortably into her sleeve, she breathes a quiet sigh and slips back behind the rest to bring up the rear with a touch here and there since she can't risk speaking right now. Allowing the others to enter before she does, she covers her left eye with one hand so that when she heads inside she'll adjust to the gloom faster. Someone needs to be able to see. "I'm closing the door behind us," she whispers because then they'll know if anyone is coming up behind them since they'll have to open it to get in. She'll also jam one of those arrows in there, not to damage the lock on their side but to buy them some extra time.

This whole night better be worth it.

The question about mages is met with a shrug, as Korrin hasn't seen any either but that doesn't stop her from hoping there's one to take down. Welcome to Thedas, where you meet people from all over...and then kill them and take their stuff. At least, that's the plan. This entire night so far is one giant derailing from plans made, though.

Once Araceli has put those precautions in place, Korrin summons her wisp, and steps forward as quietly as possible while holding the knife in her dominant hand. She's not a stealth prodigy and knows it, but it still doesn't hurt to try a little discretion. As they head further inside, she peers around, keeping her voice pitched low. "Not as fancy as it could be...servants' quarters?"

One civilian looks as though he's about to complain, but she silences him with a glare.

Look she would feel better if you had a staff since she now has something much more like what she's used to using. Not that she has doubts about the will or the ability Korrin might have but they're already at a disadvantage here.

Any other time, there might be a comment about the Fallow Mire. Remember the Fallow Mire? Remember the time Araceli voluntarily went back there to help find another wisp or something to do with a wisp with you Korrin? She'll save it for later when they've at least managed to catch a breather and dump the nobles on someone else actually qualified to babysit unbearable people. What she can see by the light of the wisp has her nodding until she remembers Korrin can't see her.

"Shabby decor, few belongings, lower ceilings, everyone expected to be packed tighter together?" Her voice disappears around a doorway to confirm the last bit before she swings herself back around. "Servants. A way in and out so they can be invisible." It takes supreme effort not to grind her teeth since this isn't the matter at hand, this isn't what she needs to care about right now but isn't this the fight at home? Something better for the people who have so little, who would be dying just the same way if creatures such as this invaded Castileos at a ball? But it turns to ice in her belly because there are too many people she loves there who might lie just as dead.

She prods a straggler along with a sharp whisper. At least the scale of the place is on their side, it shouldn't take much longer now for them to find the other end and emerge to whatever awaits them. Recalling the homes of most nobles back home, she raises her voice as much as she dares. "Head for the kitchens or larder, the exit should be that way."

Korrin nods grimly at Araceli's assessment, likewise irritated by it all on behalf of those ground under the heel of Orlesian nobles. There will be time to rant about this later, at least if she has anything to say about it, but that requires attending to their current situation. She tries not to sigh, not really wanting to be burdened babysitting such an inept, insufferable group of people. Still, the only other option is to let them rush head-first into their deaths. Left to themselves, she would give them maybe five minutes, tops.

Taking Araceli's advice, she urges them onward, the wisp shedding just enough light for them to move by. The hallway isn't a long one, and Korrin stops and listens at each door before opening. Small, spartan bedrooms and storage areas greet them first, but the scent of bread and soup catches her attention, and she beckons them onward...only to halt upon hearing whispering up ahead, in the direction of said kitchen. Turning to Araceli, she raises an eyebrow. Time to see if they're friend or foe?

Gripping her new blade in hand - no time to marvel at how cleanly it slips from sleeve to hand, how comfortable the grip is, Araceli nods at Korrin and slips past her to press herself flat to the wall. It's risky to try it but she's done worse, she thinks, back in Castileos.

Thedas has arrows and spells and red lyrium, but they don't have pistols so it all works out in her favour.

One of the pair is upset, Orlesian by the accent, but the other isn't and that's what has Araceli peering around the doorway as far as she dares. Inquisition armour on one shoulder and she grins, swinging back around.

"We've found the way out - one of them is ours, just be polite. That's for all of you." Because Orlesians.

Araceli's news causes Korrin to stare in surprise for a moment that something actually turned out to their benefit for once; she was fully expecting assassins or Freemen, at the very least. Then the tension leaves her shoulders as she grins back, turning to usher the others onward with enthusiasm.

"Move it, people. We don't have all night." Not if Araceli and Korrin are to assist in Inquisition/Orlesian efforts against the invaders. This is already going to be a very long night no matter what, but at least a portion of it isn't as long as it could have been.

"We can catch up with this soldier then take it from here, maybe see if we can get a weapon or find out where everyone else is so we know what we're actually dealing with."

But the most stressful part is over at least, tales sure to be told of their heroics that will be appropriately outlandish and they can both catch their breath for now. Oh and Araceli will be taking her lute back, thanks Orlesian, she needs that even if she just has to stash it for later.

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OPEN ↠ THE WINTER PALACE, PART II

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good ending point?