closed | landsmeet!

[cozen]

WHO: Bastien, Benedict, Byerly, Gela, Josias, Tiffany
WHAT: Riftwatch goes to the Landsmeet and (hopefully) unmasks an aspiring Venatori king.
WHEN: Nowish
WHERE: Denerim
NOTES: OOC post! Starters/dividers will be in the comments after we discuss.

When anyone in Ferelden speaks of "going to the city," they inevitably mean Denerim. There is no other place in the kingdom which rivals it: Not in size, population, wealth, or importance. It is the seat of the Theirin family, the capital of Ferelden, the largest seaport, and, by ancient tradition, the meeting place of the Landsmeet—an annual council for which all the nobles of Ferelden gather, held for almost three thousand years except odd interruptions during Blights and invasions. The sight of a king asking for—and working to win—the support of "lesser" men is a source of constant wonder to foreign ambassadors.

Comments

DENERIM

[cozen]

Denerim in the springtime is a bit chillier than Kirkwall, and certainly muddier and browner, with dirt-and-dust streets and wood-shingled buildings rather than Kirkwall's omnipresent stone. But depending on one's perspective, it might arguably be a more pleasant place. The walls aren't so high and uniform, for one; for another, it's less striated, wits poor and wealthy patched mixed together like a salad rather than on opposite sides of the plate, with denizens of each social strata rubbing elbows in the same markets. There's more greenery, growing wilder than in Kirkwall's carefully planned garden beds upon the stonework, and this time of year some of it is blooming colorful as well. The days are getting longer, the skies are often clear, and the advent of the Landsmeet has made the city shake off any lingering signs of winter hibernation and come fully alive.

Riftwatch is not invited to the Landsmeet, exactly. It's a closed meet: the Queen and the nobles ensconced daily in a grand chamber to give speeches, consider matters, and vote. A Fereldan noble himself—albeit one without any land to meet about—the Ambassador does manage to ply a few invitations for himself and a rotation of plus-ones to spend an hour here or an hour there in the hall, silently observing some relevant debate to see how it plays out. But none of them are given free rein to hang out all day long.

Which is fine. The real negotiations aren't happening in the hall. They're happening in Denerim's taverns and inns, where debate does not have to proceed as a series of orderly speeches and nobles can trade favors (or threats) to sway their fellows' votes. These conversations are much easier to gain access to, whether by eavesdropping or by merely introducing yourself to someone who might invite you to sit down or ask you to take their side in an argument. Few of the matters being decided at the Landsmeet—land disputes, long lists of taxes—are of direct concern to Riftwatch. But making friends and learning what motivates them is always a concern, and will be useful come the day Riftwatch might need to ask any of them for favors. Whenever the members of Riftwatch's little delegation aren't busy in pursuit of their mystery Venatori, they're encouraged to spend their time talking to others.

Once the night winds down, there's a room upstairs in the Slack Sail Inn, near the harbor—a replacement for a slightly better collection of rooms at a slightly better inn, after they're pushed out by Landsmeet attendees with heavier purses. It's the kind of room that's often shared among traveling strangers, narrow beds for ten that only have a scattering of privacy screens between them and a communal washroom down the hall. But for some extra coins they've managed to reserve the whole room, no strangers allowed, and so within the room they may be as weird and speak as freely as they want.

OOC | Use this for RP or just for your background information, your choice!

Benedict OTA

[altusimperius]

I. Landsmeeting

Regardless of his actual interest level, Benedict has a way of looking languid and bored when he's taking notes. His presence in the grand chamber is no exception, even if it becomes clear on closer inspection that he's quite attentive, his dark eyes bright with intrigue and his hand scribbling away at his writing board.
He's never been in a room like this outside of the Senate (shadowing his mother, of course), and although the decor, accents, and manner contrast significantly, it's not all that unlike a meeting of Minrathous Magisters.

If asked who he is, he sticks to 'Byerly's assistant', maybe his first name; a cannier conversationalist may recognize his accent, but he doesn't delve into his heritage unless pressed.


II. Shopping

There's no point to visiting a new city if one isn't going to check out the market stalls, and Benedict does so with a gusto that rapidly dwindles from the start when the nature of Denerim's wares prove somewhat less to his taste than even Kirkwall's.
He stands scowling and overdressed before a market stall of drab textiles, a mug of some hot beverage clasped in his thin hands, his shoulders hunched from the damp cold. It may be spring here, but he'll believe it when he feels it.


III. The Slack Sail

Years ago, Benedict would have pitched an entire fit about having to share one musty room with multiple companions, but he barely notices these days, simply opting to drop his things on a bed as far from any windows as he can manage. He spends some downtime in their chamber, reading or sketching by candlelight, when he isn't in the tavern area below with a chalice of wine, watching people.
Though his overall behavior is a bit more restrained amidst the night life than it might be in his off-hours in Kirkwall, he still can't stop himself making eyes at this or that muscled sailor or scruffy gambler.

landsmeeting!

[cozen]

It only happens once, that Bastien is alongside Benedict in the chamber. He stands beside him with his arms folded behind his back, looking very much like he's been here before, respectfully attentive but not especially impressed.

Only the attentive part is true.

The present topic of debate and discussion is not directly relevant to them. If it were—if it were yesterday's squirming about the continued presence of rifts in Ferelden's wilderness areas, or tomorrow's updates on the completion of repairs to the bridge and other targets of Tevinter sabotage during the invasion of the Free Marches—Byerly would be here, not Bastien. Today it's taxes. Relevant to defense, certainly, but in the dullest, least-Riftwatch's-business sort of way.

Bastien's fascinated anyway, for the most part. He's never seen a monarch openly negotiate with her subjects. But during some bann's particularly long speech on what percentage of their wheat yield they can spare to sell, he leans over to murmur to Benedict, "He looks like our dog." Droopy and sad-eyed.

[altusimperius]

Tipping his head toward Bastien when he leans over, Benedict has to try very hard not to let his face show the crack in his composure at the comparison. The bann does look like Whiskey.

Carefully schooling his expression into something quite serious, as though Bastien just remarked on something quite hought-provoking, Benedict nods to him primly. Yes. Indubitably.

II, get in loser

[sprent]

"Oh," Gela says over his shoulder, "No." She has scanned the textiles once, critically, and shakes her head as she takes him by the elbow to steer him away, "No, come with me. If you're interested in fabric, I saw better quality stock over this way, on the way in."

Seems she knows what she's talking about. She adds, cheerfully, "You're feelin' alright, are you?"

[altusimperius]

"It's all disgusting," he whines, allowing himself to be steered away, perhaps secretly pleased that someone has taken such an interest in what is obviously his impeccable taste.

"No, I'm dying. This is going to kill me. Not a single decent weaver in this whole country."

[sprent]

Yes, it's fun isn't it? Gela chuckles at his dramatics, bolstering him with a squeeze, "There are! You're not lookin' in the right places, is all."

Benedict will find that her personal style is far different to his own, and soon. For now, Gela says conversationally, "You've been here before? I came in from the Coastlands, never made it down to Ferelden. It's..."

We-ell, "The mountains are incredible."

rises from the dead

[altusimperius]

"Not long enough to visit properly," he sniffs, as though there's such a thing as properly visiting Ferelden, but there it is. "What are the right places, then?"