Ceci n'est pas un Chevalier

[coeurdulyon]

WHO: Lucien Amour Lyon du Lyon (The Lionheart) and YOU!
WHAT: The arrival of a famed Chevalier (and catch-all)
WHEN: mid to late Drakonis
WHERE: Kirkwall & The Gallows etc
NOTES: Feel free to make up stories you've heard about this legendary knight, he casts a looooong shadow.

i. reporting for duty [closed to div heads]

ia. flint
[ Diligence is due when Lucien returns with Marcoulf and Ellis, and because diligence is a virtue of chivalry, its due must be paid. ]

Commander James Flint? [ His announcement is preceded by a rapping of knuckles on the door jamb and he stands in the doorway until admitted. ]

ib. yseult
[ It's well after Lucien has had the chance to bathe and dress himself as a member of society when he pays a visit to the Scoutmaster in her office. He knocks, waits to be admitted, and kisses the back of her hand at the crux of his courtly bow. ]

Chevalier du Lyon, à votre service.

ic. byerly
[ Once again, the polite knock-knock and waiting at the door to be admitted, very proper and polite and very much unlike a Chevalier, all-told. ]

Ambassador Rutyer, I presume?

id. thranduil and gwen
[ Lucien knocks on the door jamb to the Research Division Head office, folding his hands behind his back. ]

Provost Baudin?

ii. some things to clear up [closed to salvio]

[ The Seneschal's office is the last stop on Lucien's unofficial tour of the Gallows, but perhaps one of the most important, overall. Yes, it's important to introduce himself to the leadership here, but getting himself declared alive again is also rather important. ]

Seneschal Salvio Pizzicagnolo? I wonder if I might beg your assistance in an administrative matter.

iii. il n'y a pas de feu

[ Wildcard, come one, come all! ]

Comments

elbows in here

[heirring]

[Which is punctuated by a resounding cry of triumph from near the floor.]

And here they are at last. I told you I had filed these last month—

[That definitive thump! is the sound of a large file being dropped from height as Wysteria swings up unto view from behind another desk, marks the gentleman in the doorway, and evidently forgets she is holding anything.]

[coeurdulyon]

Allow me. [ Lucien doesn't react with surprise, but rather sweeps into the room to collect the file Wysteria just dropped and return it to her, covering her hands in his to support the file until she has recovered from whatever shock she's just suffered. ]

I apologize for the abrupt intrusion, but under the circumstances--

[ He pauses, then introduces himself by way of explanation. ]

I am Ser Lucien Lyon du Lyon.

[ Back from the dead, as it were. ]

[assistente]

[Poor Poppell must suffer the full force of the man's attention for a moment. Salvio pities her, and envies her, a little, but there is nothing that he can do. He takes the moment to collect himself, gets in a big breath, steadied--only to be rocked off kilter when that introduction comes.]

You are?

[Wait, no. It isn't a question.]

That is, you--are. [Wait, no, it is a question--] You are... Ser Lucien Lyon du Lyon. And you are. Here.

[heirring]

[The look on Wysteria's face doesn't change - that bewildered half smile is perfectly composed, thank you -, but the color goes from exceptionally pale to exceptionally red over the span of a few seconds.]

Do you two— know one another?

[She squeaks.]

[coeurdulyon]

[ Oh bless, a single person for whom Lucien's reputation doesn't precede him. His smile, shared between the Seneschal and the woman, is warm, if sheepish. ]

Non, I believe the Seneschal is, however, familiar with the rumor of my death. Which, actually, is the matter I came to address.

[assistente]

I-- no. I mean, that is, yes. This is how, or what, I know, and-- and of course by reputation. The, um. The songs and--all. Yes.

[No wonder the lion was so kind to Ser Lucien. It was likely as overcome as Salvio feels now. He tries to recover, and reaches for a fresh sheet of parchment--if only for the distraction.]

Um, how-- how is it that you-- Or, well, what might, what can, we, or I, do to-- to assist you, in this? I-- I am pleased that this, er, that your death--that it was only a rumor.

[heirring]

Oh. By reputation, [Wysteria echoes faintly. What a lovely word 'reputation' is.

His hands are fantastically warm, she thinks distantly. They are neither too soft, nor too calloused.]

Would it be terribly impolite to ask what was meant to have killed you?

[coeurdulyon]

I was meant to have fallen in battle, [ He removes his hands from Wysteria's to better facilitate his gestures while explaining. ] when in fact, I was injured, and taken to be treated with the enemy's wounded. When they realized their mistake, the Venatori decided I was worth more as a prisoner than as a casualty, but their attempts at ransom never succeeded.

[ Now to focus his attention on Salvio. ]

I hoped that, as Seneschal, you might arrange for correspondence to the proper officials in Orlais. There have already been reports of an impostor, someone with my armor and my shield, masquerading across the countryside, and having the added testimony of someone in your position might make things go more smoothly.

[assistente]

[The force of that attention is nearly too much. Salvio grips at the edge of his desk to keep himself upright. He has heard the details of the explanation given to Poppell, and made note of them, just moments ago. If asked to recount them now, he would have a hard time of it--at least while Ser Lucien's attention is on him.

Shit. Yes, wait, no. Wait-- He grabs at the piece of parchment he had extracted already, and fumbles for his pencil, to begin a note--]

I-- That is horrible. Shameful. I-- I, yes, I would be happy to--well, I do not know about, um, my position, in particular, but of course I might, or I would-- If it might help. I am happy to, to write. And give a statement. Yes, of course.

Um--you will be... returning to Orlais?

[heirring]

[The file is dumped unceremoniously on the closest available flat surface without much pretense or, say, diverting her eyeline from the gentleman in question.]

It would be difficult, Northern Orlais being what it is. You would have to take a ship, which could take weeks to arrange.

[Just, you know. For the record.]

[coeurdulyon]

Ah, non, I have been apprised of the situation in Orlais, and it seems that the best course I can take right now is to stay here and work towards liberation.

[ He offers a slight shrug and a wry smile. ]

Which is convenient, as I owe a debt of honor to agents of this organization for saving my life.

[assistente]

Oh? Yes?

[Wait, that's too-- something. Salvio coughs as he grips his pencil and bends earnestly over the page, to continue his note.]

I mean, that is-- yes. Poppell has the right of it. And, um, it would be-- well, Riftwatch is always in need of members, and it is rare to find one so, um. As yourself. That is. Um, which-- which agents in particular was it that, that saved your life? So we might-- well, not commend, exactly, but. Something very like it.

[Oh, wait, that's also too--something. Hastily, Salvio adds--]

Not-- I mean, as is customary. Standard. For--such a thing. Of course.

[heirring]

[At the overwhelmed edge of this conversation, Wysteria is making a mental that more novels ought to feature debts of honor. The whole concept is somehow compelling.]

Oh. How convenient. --Not in the sense that it is convenient you are separated from your home or that it is convenient for Orlais to presently be siffering under occupation. But rather, that I'm certain Riftwatch would welcome your expertise.

[What expertise? Has anyone mentioned what the gentleman does? Does it even particularly matter? Surely he is an expert in something.]

[coeurdulyon]

I certainly hope I can help.

[ Said to Wysteria, before returning to Salvio to answer the question. ]

Serrah de Ricart, Warden Ellis, and...I believe the other simply introduced himself as Richard.

[heirring]

['Warden Ellis,' he says.]

[assistente]

[What a fucking dreamy response. Salvio starts, just a little, as du Lyon's attention returns to him, and--oh, yes, work--bends over the page again.]

Very good. Yes. I have noted the, um. Yes. Thank you for your-- your response, of course, but. Yes. I am certain your help will be invaluable. And appreciated. There is, of course, the efforts of all are appreciated, and anyone who seeks to join the organization is appreciated. Their contributions are appreciated and their presences, and, but. Yes.

Well. Yes. You will be a great help to us, Ser. I am certain of it.

[coeurdulyon]

[ Rather than waiting idly for the Seneschal to finish saying, unsaying, reiterating, and confirming the value of everyone and no-one's efforts, Lucien scans the desk for an extra quill and parchment, taking it upon himself to pen a very concisely worded missive.

He does, of course, take a moment as his searching gaze passes over Wysteria to give her a friendly, commiserating look before leaning on the desk to write. ]

If you find that the Council of Heralds is unreachable--a foreseen circumstance, all things considered--you may have better fortune contacting the Comtesse Solange Montbelliard directly, and failing that, Lady Arielle Roux-Lyon, though I hope to draft a more comprehensive missive for her benefit before the issue of verifying my living status becomes her purview.

[ What a way to tell your mother you're still alive; Bonjour, mama, I'm not dead and also could you please tell the Council of Heralds as much so I can get my status back? Amour et bisous, Lucien. ]

[heirring]

[What is she meant to do with that look except to laugh - a sudden fully involuntary and half strangled noise - and to lean almost as if somehow sympathetic to the motion of his writing hand toward the Seneschal's desk. She is not snooping. She is educating herself for when Salvio most definitely will need her assistance.]

Of course. We will do our very best to have the message delivered appropriately, Monsier. Sir. Ser. You may not know this, seeing as you have been held by the enemy and I am sure that they say all sorts of terrible things about Riftwatch, but we are a terribly resilient and awfully reliable group. If there is a way to reach the Council of Heralds [the what? who cares. It sounds lovely], you may trust Seneschal Pizzicagnolo and myself to find a way of seeing it done.

[assistente]

Yes-- yes, Poppell has the right of it. We will see that it is done. Most assuredly. And the, um, delivery--make the delivery, that is, of this communication. To all three of your proposed recipients.

At least one will make it. If not all. Our organization is-- well, it is resilient. [Reliable? Sort... of.] Yes. It is resilient.

[With the greatest sincerity:] We will see it done, Ser.

[coeurdulyon]

Oh, I have no doubt that my life, if you'll pardon the jest, is in good hands.

[heirring]

[She laughs. It's another strangled, honking sound muffled only by the set of her hand at her cheek. A morbid sense of humor - how charming.]

[assistente]

[Is it a jest? Salvio doesn't get it. But it is said so smoothly and politely and finely that he laughs too, joining in with Poppell. His is of a less honking quality, more rapid and fluttering, and it ends very quickly.]

Yes-- yes. I, um. Yes. Well, we-- we will assign you accommodations, while you are with us, and-- and the usual starting items. Supplies. Um. Meant to-- to fill out what you might have already brought with you.

Um, Poppell, have you-- the housing form?

[coeurdulyon]

[ He nods his head in a small, grateful bow. What he brought with him consists of his sword, his shield, and himself. ]

[heirring]

Oh, uh— [She snaps up.] Yes of course. Just give me a moment. There is a veritable gamut of paperwork, and I am in the middle of reworking the whole onboarding packet as we discussed, Seneschal—

[A flurry of papers follows, culminating in Wysteria swarming up to the desk and the soft slap of a series of pages being set before their most esteemed guest— er. New recruit?]

If there isn't enough room for you to fill out the forms here, you are most welcome to sit at my desk for however long you like. Require. For however long you require.

[Her desk must be the one papered in teetering stacks of to-be-filed documents.]