MOD PLOT: SHOULD GLORY COME AT SUCH A PRICE, Part I

[faderifting]

WHO: The Inquisition's Minrathous delegation
WHAT: A diplomatic visit to Tevinter's capital
WHEN: Mid Solace
WHERE: Minrathous, Tevinter
NOTES: Slavery cw. OOC post here.

I. SWEET DIGS

The Archon's palace is a vast complex at the northeast of the island, buildings of stark black and white stone drawn straight up out of the ground and shaped by magic alone. Ringed by a wall of the same, it is made up of the palace proper and dozens of outbuildings, stables, barracks, baths, gardens, and the like. The Inquisition delegation is housed in the guest quarters, a single long hall in one wing of the palace. They are not its only occupants: special emissaries from the Anderfels occupy several rooms at one end of the hall, and other visitors are scattered throughout—trade envoys, out-of-town courtiers, relatives and guests of the Archon. There is also a veritable army of staff, constantly fetching, carrying, cleaning. Skyhold will have sent stern reminders for the Division Heads to pass down to the rest of the party: assume you are being watched at all times and mind your tongue accordingly.

The areas of the palace open to foreign visitors are somewhat limited: aside from the Archon's personal apartments, several wings apparently house massive bureaucracy behind the throne, and guests are not permitted without an appointment and an escort. The library and hall of treasures are free to be wandered, though they are carefully guarded against theft or vandalism, and the gardens are lovely and imposing testaments to the wonders magic can wring from nature.

II. GUIDED TOUR

The delegation's first day in Minrathous is fully booked, beginning with a guided tour after breakfast. The tour focuses on the nicer parts of the city and is led by a friendly elven mage, Caeso, who works for the Archon—someone is trying to make a point, perhaps, about how high elves can rise, as long as they're the right sort.

Minrathous is ancient, and it shows, with not even the care and pride Tevinter has in its heritage able to stave off signs of wear. The buildings are enormous and dark, made largely out of black stone and metals, but they indicate a majestic history more than a majestic present. There are also signs of magic, everywhere. The foundations of many buildings seem to have been pulled up straight from the earth, rather than built on top of it, and towers and bridges that should have collapsed ages ago are permanently enchanted to defy gravity. While he doesn't take them inside any of the buildings, Caeso points out the Argent Spire, the headquarters of the Imperial Chantry and Divine; the Minrathous Circle, the oldest in Thedas; and the Ambassadoria, where dwarven ambassadors work underground to preserve their castes. Then he guides them through a colorful central market where they're able to have lunch around a fountain and enjoy open displays of magic and enchanted objects by street performers and merchants. He's happy to answer basic questions about the city and Tevinter in general, and after lunch provides everyone with maps that are, possibly, designed for tourists who aren't particularly trusted (or aren't believed to be particularly bright). They only show significant landmarks and the streets required to reach them from the palace.

III. FANCY PARTY

That afternoon, everyone is due back in time to dress up, fix their hair, fix other people's hair as needed, and sit down for dinner with the Archon—distant, at the end of the table, and quiet—as well as a number of members of the Magisterium and other notable figures, with an over-the-top sixteen course meal served by a quiet, respectful staff that may be slaves or may be servants. Afterwards, and after a break to allow a little bit of digestion, the entire group migrates to join even more guests for an evening of music, dancing, and mingling in a ballroom adorned with floating lights.

The locals will shy away from discussing anything too sensitive, like Corypheus' origins or Tevinter religion and politics, but they'll be happy to discuss history and to ask questions of the delegation. A southerner is as rare a sight for them here are a Tevinter is in the south.

IV. FREE TIME

Under the Archon's protection as long as they remain his guests, and despite what the maps they're given might suggest, the delegation has been given more or less free rein in the capital, with only sensitive areas of the palace, naval yards, and the Circle and Spire off-limits for casual visits. Minrathous is a city like any other: tightly-packed buildings, bustling streets, opulent theaters and rundown shops, markets selling vegetables and flowers and fabrics, cafés packed with students arguing politics or beleaguered bureaucrats taking tea, pristine gardens filled with elaborate topiary, or small squares of green tucked between buildings, flowering vines draped down their walls. Of course it's also like nothing they've ever seen further south: street performers here make common use of magic, not just breathing fire but shaping it into a flock of birds or a dragon in flight. Slave markets are kept to the outskirts of the city but those near the docklands are vast and busy. In the harbor, among the forest of masts of trading vessels from every corner of Thedas, sits the Imperial Navy, four ships always on guard at the broad mouth of the harbor, a reminder that this is a nation at war.

Outside of specific missions, everyone is free to wander the city and explore, though they are given strict instructions to stay out of trouble—no matter what. They are also asked to keep their eyes and ears open as they do, to mingle and talk with anyone who seems willing, and to keep watch for anything unique on sale in the markets. Rare books, unknown potions, unusual enchanted objects should all be purchased if spotted: this may be the Inquisition's only opportunity to get its hands on the wealth of magical and historical knowledge hoarded by Tevinter (and reimbursements will be offered, within reason).

Potential agents are another invaluable commodity, and the delegation is charged with taking note of anyone who seems sympathetic to the Inquisition's cause and bringing their names and information to the attention of the Scoutmaster and her aides. Those capable of carefully sussing out the depth of that interest are to do so, but given the delicacy of the situation everyone should proceed with the utmost caution, and under no circumstances is any non-member of the Inquisition—no matter how friendly—to be trusted.

Comments

[altusimperius]

The question gives him pause, and Bene's look becomes odd, thoughtful. "I try to stay familiar with members of the Inquisition," he replies, glancing at her wine again and then back at Kitty, the cogs in his head slowly turning-- if not toward her identity, simply beginning to recognize how icily she's receiving his conversation.
"Benedict, of House Artemaeus," he continues, offering one delicate, lace-trimmed and very un-d'Artagnan-like hand in attempted introduction.

[rathercommon]

Oh. Oh. Kitty stiffens at once, and snarls, "You." Her free fist clenches. "You - you cheat!" She lowers her voice to a hiss. "I thought you were a Tevinter mage. I thought I had to be nice to you."

[altusimperius]

Quickly withdrawing his hand, as though afraid it's about to be bitten, Benedict blinks in obvious and unexpectedly innocent surprise. "I-- am a Tevinter mage," he says, confused.

[rathercommon]

"A real one," she snaps. "You're just the snivelling arsehole who's on the crystals all the time."

[altusimperius]

At first Benedict looks genuinely hurt-- no one speaks to him this way!!-- but then a few moments pass, and the cogs finally click into place.
"Oh, it's you," he gasps, and though he's shocked for a few more seconds, it quickly blossoms into a full-fledged belly laugh. Oh Maker, it's too good. It's perfect. He couldn't have asked for better.

[rathercommon]

Why is he laughing? She suddenly feels even more foolish, even stupider, even clumsier, even more out of place. She flushes darker.

"What's funny? What are you laughing about?"

[altusimperius]

He nearly spills his wine, instead setting it aside for safekeeping as he grips his ribcage, bending forward slightly with the exertion of continuing to laugh.
"Look at you," he gasps, sweeping his hand out in a loose gesture, and starts to say more, but instead sinks back into his chair as he's consumed by another fit. "You're like-- you're like an old lady's little feist in a homemade frock." He covers his mouth, whimpering mirthfully into it.

[rathercommon]

"I don't - " And the flush turns even deeper. She fights the urge to fling the wine in his face. And then beat him over the head with the goblet.

"I look better than you," she snaps. "Even in an old frock. And you trying ever so hard, too."

[altusimperius]

The more she protests, the more he loves it, his grin wide and warm despite the subject of his amusement.
"Now now, we both know that's not true," he says, leaning back and picking up his wine again, wiping tears from his eyes. "So, princess, welcome to Minrathous. Is it everything you hoped it'd be? How much did you pay for that potato sack?"

[rathercommon]

"Nothing," she bites back. "I spend my money on proper causes and proper things. Not a bunch of frilly lace."

[altusimperius]

"Clearly," he replies, sipping from his wine again, still greatly enjoying himself. "Maker, you haven't talked to any Magisters, have you? You'll tank the Inquisition and all its efforts singlehandedly, in minutes."

[rathercommon]

"I'm going to be nice to them," she snaps back. "I'm not an idiot. I'm not the sort of person who would - say - get completely soused when surrounded by potential enemies."

[altusimperius]

"Potential enemies, please," Benedict chides, gesturing with his glass, a bit of the wine sloshing out of it onto the floor as he does. As he's drinking from it, though, something occurs to him and he glances away from Kitty, his smile dwindling.
Where's-- what's his name-- Dart Canyon? Dark Onion? Speaking of enemies, someone is supposed to be watching for them.

Looking now more concerned, Bene sits up and casts his gaze around more thoroughly.

[rathercommon]

"What?" Kitty asks, following his gaze. A moment later, though, she looks back at him. "And yeah," she says. Primly, "Frankly, I am shocked that you cannot see that."

[altusimperius]

Barely paying attention to her anymore, Benedict glances at Kitty and then downs the last of his wine, then wobbles to his feet. "You'll have to excuse me," he says primly, straightening out his doublet, "there's somewhere I've got to be." Which is to say, back in his rooms, if he's really sitting out here like an oblivious pheasant waiting for the hunters to take notice. His walk as he takes his leave is measured even if clearly inebriated-- he has practice covering it, but perhaps not enough.