Fantasy All's Fair

[Aerynth]

"Unless we focus on the smallfolk entirely," Cyreia quipped. "Then it might work for a while, but I'm still not doing that." What kind of king would she be, after all, if she targeted the weakest members of the society? A ruler was supposed to protect such people, not make their lives worse! Cyreia still remembered what it felt like to have nothing, to rely on the kindness of others, and-- no. No, she wouldn't do that to her subjects. None of them deserved such a cruel fate. Especially not since they had already spent so much effort on trying to improve their living conditions! The new education system or the fact they had appointed lowborn people as councillors in Caldora? None of it mattered if the smallfolk died of hunger. Sighing, Cyreia sat down on the ground next to her wife and hugged her. Remin seemed so tiny, so vulnerable. If only she could kiss her worries away! ... alarmingly small number of issues could be solved with kisses, though.

"I have no idea why he's doing this," she muttered. "He has never been particularly kind, but at least he always listened to reason. Either they need money desperately, which seems... kind of improbable since they could easily get it from elsewhere, or they're trying to destroy us." Why like this, though? If they wanted to crush the kingdom, why hadn't they done it during the war? Why had they sent her here to take care of it? Why, why, why? Cyreia's head was spinning; everything felt strangely unreal and all too real for her liking at the same time, and the dissonance was dowright maddening.

"Either way," she continued, her voice a little hoarse, "it seems that this is the war Isobel spoke about. If king Loran doesn't change his opinion, then I can't really see any other way out of this." Even a war wasn't guaranteed to fix it, but at least it would be... well, something. Something other than handing Loran everything they had worked so far while stabbing their people in the back in the process.

 

[Conifer]

Remin sinks against Cyeria's side, resting her head against the woman's shoulder and letting herself be wrapped up in her nearness. She hates how she's just trading weakness for weakness now, but...what else can she do? And at least Cyeria's proximity brings her all the sorts of comfort that being furious and helpless had stolen from her. This weakness...she didn't want to avoid this one. This was a permissible one - if anything, it was a boon to her country for her to have someone she could trust beside her. Without Cyeria, they might've been sent straight into war now. (Not that it wasn't clearly impending, but at least it hadn't been started in this office.) (Remin knew that she was making excuses, really, but they were long past the point of that mattering. She loved Cyeria. She'd loved Cyeria for months now, and the world hadn't collapsed beneath their feet. Yes, there were rumors, especially after it had gotten out that Ianes was Avther during the rebellion, and yes there were people who had quite a lot to say about it, but the world hadn't collapsed. No one had even called her a traitor to her face. They might not have had much of a chance, but they still hadn't done it, which was good enough. So she'd keep this weakness and not feel as terribly as she feels she should for it.)

"So we let him ruin us through taxes, or we let him ruin us through bloodshed." Remin says quietly, tucking her arm around Cyeria's waist. "Neither of those options are terribly appealing. But I can't see other ones." There were, of course, different ways this war could start - but that wasn't a different option. It was just an option carried out a different way. "...I hate that whatever we choose, we're wrong. We go to war and people suffer, we don't go to war and people suffer, and then we likely still lose the war unless you can pull another god out of your back pocket."

 

[Aerynth]

"I'm not an expert when it comes to religious theory," Cyreia said quietly and put a stray strand of her behind Remin's ear, "but I think that relying on Pextian is likely to make them not appear. It was a one time thing, I'm afraid. We're on our own." Strangely enough, it wasn't a source of despair. Everything else about this goddamned situation was, yes, but-- compared to her past experiences, it was actually an improvement. At least she got to use 'we' instead of 'I'. Still, Remin probably found little comfort in that, so Cyreia embraced her tighter; almost as if her arms could shield her from the resr of the world. If only that were true!

"But Remin, it's not hopeless. It really isn't, I promise. If we gave in to his demands-- well, that really would be the end of it. Either he'd bleed us dry, or we'd be swallowed by the inner conflicts. Resistance can buy us freedom, though. A real one, not a mockery of it." Hadn't lady Beleret said that the war was going to be transformative, either death or rebirth? Maybe they had been focusing on the death part of the prophecy too much; maybe it was a chance in disguise! (Probably not, but Cyreia found it helpful to try and remain optimistic. It certainly beat being paralyzed by helplessness.) "I'm not saying it will be easy. People will suffer, there's no way around it, though they won't suffer in vain. And Eupriunia-- Eupriunia is powerful, but I happen to know how the army operates. General strategies and the like, along with most of the famous commanders and what approach they generally go for. I bet I could outmanoeuvre them." Was she being too arrogant? Quite possibly, except that Cyreia had a good reason to believe her own boasting. Few people could truly compete with her when strategizing; all those victories had proved that. "We just need to get some reliable allies. And after that?" Cyreia put her hand under Remin's chin and made her face her, oh so gently. "I'll give you what rightfully belongs to you. I'll give you Athea, and it will be yours in a way it isn't now." Wasn't it only right for her to do that? She had been one of those who had torn it away from her, after all, and so it logically fell to her to undo the damage. It may have been stupid and foolish and unrealistic, but for the first time in... maybe in her entire life, Cyreia felt that she was doing the right thing.

 

[Conifer]

Perhaps they never should have been worried about Cyeria betraying Athea - no, her talking of outmaneuvering and reclaiming Athea was much more traitorous in the opposite direction. But why had Isobel thought Remin had needed a warning for that? As touched as she was with these promises and proclamations, they came as no real surprise. The two of them stood in this muck together. Remin was growing more and more convinced that the woman had simply wanted to confuse them each as much as she possibly could have, leaving them with only shaking ground to stand on. Well, it had worked, but hopefully not as much as she'd wanted it to.

Remin watched Cyeria for a moment, raising a hand to cup the woman's cheek. As foolhardy as this whole plan was...Remin trusted that she meant each word. That spoke nothing to how it would pan out - there was still more than every chance in the world that they would crash and fail (and the cost for that...Remin would be shocked if they didn't lose their heads,) but Cyeria spoke firmly. Like she had no doubts in the world. "...then I suppose it's excellent that we might be able to speak to some potential allies over the festival." She says softly, far less sure, but trying to trust in her wife's determination. "If we can have this war started before he realizes it's begun, then we might have some chance." Of course they couldn't recklessly truly start blades swinging - but there was more to war than weaponry.

 

[Aerynth]

Was she convincing enough? As foolish as her statement was, it must have worked at least on some level; while the shadow of doubt didn't disappear from Remin's expression, some of her confidence apparently rubbed off on her. (Fake confidence. Or was it? The odds seemed insurmountable, yes, but she knew better than anyone that the image Eupriunia projected - that of invincibility - was just an illusion. A cheap parlor trick meant to instill fear into their enemies. And hadn't some of her best plans been born of desperation? Or, more accurately, of the dangerous combination of desperation and audacity?)

"That's my clever wife," Cyreia smiled softly and kissed her on her cheek, seemingly unbothered by the fact that they had technically just become traitors. But-- well. It was difficult for her to feel bad about it, really. She wasn't a mustache-twirling villainess who turned against her benefactors because she lusted after power; Loran had all but forced her into this choice. Cyreia could either leave her people to their sad fates with her honor intact or fight for them as a traitor, and she wasn't nearly loyal enough to even consider the first option. That single piece of happiness she had somehow managed to seize here? Loran couldn't have it. Eupriunia had already taken more than enough from her; years of her life, her sweat and blood, even her innocence. Did its greed know no boundaries? Well, soon it would because Cyreia drew the line here!

"Maybe Loran will change his mind, but honestly, I wouldn't hold my breath. I've seen that expression before and it usually indicated he was dead-set on whatever he was trying to accomplish. So yes, we should use the opportunity to the fullest." It didn't escape her how ironic it was, setting their plan into motion during a festival meant to celebrate unity, though again, it wasn't like they wanted to do it. They simply had to.

"Any idea who might be worth talking to?" While Cyreia had helped with organizing the festival and had done so extensively, guests had been Remin's domain. She still knew the country and its neighbors better than she did, after all, and her wife was also better at handling the humans aspects of this. Cyreia had a good head for numbers and such, but writing personalized invitations? Her handwriting was too ugly for that, and besides, her letters would have probably come out sounding too stiff. All of that meant that Remin had a much better idea of who would actually be attending.

 

[Conifer]

Yes, this technically made them traitors - but Remin refused that label. Her only alliance with Eupriunia was one forced upon her, and it had, so far, done nothing good for her besides bring her Cyeria - which it hadn't even been intentional. If anything it had been intended as a punishment. While this was treachery by definition, Remin felt no real moral qualms about any of it. Eupriunia had started the war the first time, and they were starting it again - even if they didn't fully know it.
It occured to her then, though, that it would complicate her continued marriage with the Eupriunian war hero, though; as far as she could tell, most Atheans either didn't have much of an opinion at all, too far removed from the crown for Avther to have any real impact on them, or they had a strong opinion. Of those, there were a handful that only pardoned her, pitied her, because it was something that was forced upon her. What would happen if the war went well? If being married to Cyeria was a choice, rather than a necessity, and she chose it?
...then that was a problem for then, and it was a far better problem than this shameless extortion. They'd worry about it then. Perhaps all of this would be good for Cyeria's image, anyways - maybe there'd be more sympathy when she actively used her Eupriunian heritage and ties against Eupriunia. Remin would worry about it when it began to look like they realistically had any chance of not turning into a smoldering ruin of a once-was country.

"We should start with our own nobility," Remin hums after a second. "See what they'd be willing to put forward - any funds or support - before we start to extend this conversation out to other people. Within Athea, we'd likely be safe, but it's hard to know where other loyalties might properly lie. If we have some sort of backing before then, it might make us more credible. Those who feel forced into siding with Eupriunia might be less likely to if they know that there's a proper threat, or someone else to ally with who stands a chance. Within them, starting with the people we've already met; the Everbrights, Tamrel and Sarah...perhaps not the Marshes, but we'll have Maric, at least. And then extending outwards to old family friends who you haven't had the pleasure of meeting yet. After that, outward further still. Other countries." Other countries would be more of a wildcard; Athea had few terribly strong ties left. But there had been some before the war with Eupriunia, and so perhaps they might be able to renew those once more. "Torre, as you suggested we make closer allies with. It might be the time for that. Or other countries that are under Loran's grip, if you can think of any that might have some bravery left in them."

 

[Aerynth]

Ah, of course. Starting with their own nobility only made sense, as much as she didn't like it. Cyreia tried not to be prejudiced against them, she really did, but that was kind of hard when half of them had planned to kill her before they had even met her. Still, this was no time to be clinging to old grudges. And perhaps they could even warm up to her somewhat upon seeing she was personally invested in Athean independence? Not that their approval mattered to her that much, but it would be a nice bonus. If they considered her to be at least tolerable, maybe she could actually go a whole week without being poisoned, burned or threatened! "Won't the Marshes hear of it anyway, though?" Cyreia raised her eyebrow. "I mean, they are in an alliance with the Everbrights and gods know who else, and I doubt they wouldn't share this particular information among themselves. Maybe it doesn't really matter, though." The Marshes, after all, didn't seem to be unreliable; they were good soldiers, with the only catch being that they hated her. They loved Remin though, and presumably Athea as well, so perhaps they could actually cooperate in this case. Enemy of my enemy and all that nonsense. Yeah, this should work. "I'd still like to leave the local nobles mostly up to you if you don't mind, however," Cyreia smiled softly. "You're more likely to succeed. I... haven't exactly created a good first impression with most of them, I'm afraid." She was an acquired taste rather than a natural charmer, and the nobles simply hadn't had the opportunity to get to know her for what she was. Hopefully that would change in the future, but they couldn't count on it happening before the war broke out.

"I'll focus on the other countries. Not on those that were subjugated by Eupriunia, though; I don't think that many of them are in any state to fight and... well. I may have assisted in bringing some of them to their knees, too, so I doubt they'd want to help me now." Asking them for assistance was too much even for someone as audacious as Cyreia. It would be like twisting the knife in their wounds, really. Besides, wouldn't it be all too tempting for them to contact king Loran and inform them of their betrayal? No, they had to look elsewhere.

"I have a few friends in Stiytan and Ashurg, though. Well, not exactly friends, but the people there know me and what I'm capable of. They're also likely to be targeted by Eupriunia at some point, so I'm fairly sure I could convince them to join us." Cyreia played with Remin's hair as she spoke, finding some amount of comfort in the familiar softness. "You know," she chuckled suddenly, "I really love you. I love many things about you, actually, but what I might love the most right now is how eagerly you go along with the most scandalous of my ideas. I mean, you didn't even hesitate when I proposed-- well, betrayal."

 

[Conifer]

"It's not betrayal to me." She says plainly, though there's a tenderness to her words. "This is my country. My people. Defending them isn't betrayal - it's my duty. We're under Eupriunian rule because we had to be to protect them, but now...now that provides no safety. It's preservation, not betrayal." But it was betrayal to Cyeria, and now Cyeria was a part of Remin - so, yes, perhaps this was betrayal. She wasn't going to claim that she was entirely free of treachery from everyone else's point of view, but...she meant what she said. This was not, in her opinion, betraying anything. There was no trust between her and Loran - there was just a deal that he wasn't holding up properly, and thus, the contract was being voided. "...but," she says, more gently, more softly, more full of tenderness and love for the woman sat on the floor with her. "That doesn't mean that I wouldn't go along with an idea of betrayal if it properly was one. I think I'd...well, I'd go most places with you, as long as there was reason to."

She lingers there for a moment longer, just..existing with Cyeria in whatever moment she can before they have to return to proper life. Eventually she has to stand, though, and dust off her dress. "Come on." she murmurs, offering Cyeria a hand up. "We have a lot of work to do, and now we have even more. We should get to it before Loran decides we all need to talk about something else insufferable."

 

[Aerynth]

Cyreia's smile only widened at those words. God, wasn't she lucky to have her? The bad things they had to endure almost, almost paled in comparison. (She was sure she would be forced to re-evaluate that particular statement once the war truly began, but it didn't hurt to indulge in sweet nonsense now. There wouldn't be many opportunities for it later, after all.) "Not that I'd ever place you into such a position. It's still nice to hear that, though." Cyreia wouldn't mind staying on the floor for an eternity, clinging to Remin as if she was the only stable point in her universe, but her wife was right. They still had work to do; that had been true before Loran's arrival and it was even more true now when so much depended on the festival running smoothly.

And so they returned to the daily grind. It was strange, preparing for a festival while planning for a war, and an undeniable tension hung in the air, but Cyreia went through the motions nonetheless. It wasn't like she could do anything else, after all. Overt panic would have been suspicious, so they had to hide it beneath the veil of mundanity. The days came and went, filled with activity. At times, it disconcerted her just how easily she turned against her king; what did it say about her character? Very little, she decided eventually. Her loyalty had always belonged to her people - to the soldiers that bled and died for her - rather than to the cold, hard man who sat on the throne. That hadn't changed. Cyreia still did what she did to protect those under her care, no matter who they were. At least some honor could be find in this approach; it allowed her to feel like something more than-- well. A sword pointed at Loran's enemies. (She still felt more like a weapon than a person occasionally with the way muscle memory inevitably pulled her to violence every time a problem emerged, but she got to decide who the weapon was aimed at now. And that? That was an improvement.)

Meanwhile, king Loran continued to make their lives more difficult. It wasn't enough that he had come to rob their people of the resources that rightfully belonged to them; no, he also made a point of sitting beside Cyreia when she worked, reading her records shamelessly and offering his input on-- well, pretty much everything. Frustratingly, this also meant that Remin had to more or less disappear from her life because, had she stayed in her office with her, Loran would have realized within five seconds that there was more to her than met the eye. They could only steal a few moments of privacy for themselves in their bedroom; when they did, Cyreia held Remin and refused to let her go. God, did she wish for the war to break out already! Not because she was some bloodthirsty beast, but because this fake peace, this calm before the storm, unsettled her more than open warfare did. At least you knew where you stood when the steel clashed on the battlefield. Now, however? A nervous energy was coursing through her veins, and yet she could do nothing but wait, wait, wait.

Everything came to an end eventually, though; even this torturous period of waiting. The day of the festival finally arrived. Stalls had grown up on the plain they had chosen for the celebration during the past few days, and the usually empty place came alive with chatter. Vendors spoke over one another, trying to attract their customers' attention, while children laughed and ran around. Sweet smells mixed with exotic spices and, in the background of it all, countless kites were covering the sky. It would have been almost idyllic, really, if it hadn't been for the promise of the war hiding in the shadows. That fact that they attended the event with king Loran didn't help Cyreia's mood, either. How were they to speak to potential allies if he always hovered close like a bad omen? They had to lure him away somehow! King Loran, however, didn't seem too impressed by the line-up they had prepared. He retreated behind a wall of silence, seemingly intent on watching them instead of whatever marvels he could observe instead. How could they possibly distract him? God, Cyreia hoped that Remin had some kind of idea because she very much didn't.

 

[Conifer]

Where Cyeria dreaded this in-between, Remin thrived as much as anyone could in it. She still had doubts of their ability to win, but there was no chance that she wasn't going to try. Cyeria had faith, and so she must as well. With Loran distracted with shadowing over Cyeria, it made it simple to do the work she had to do and that Cyeria couldn't under Loran's watchful gaze. That also had the benefit of them being able to feed him what information would be best for him to think was true. Perhaps a budget was left laying idly by that showed they were spending less on their military than they really were, or perhaps there was a stack of letters from whoever Remin could convince to hastily write one left out for Loran to snoop through the contents of when he thought Cyeria wasn't looking, wherein detailed imagined skirmishes and calls for aid from outlying towns. They could paint him the picture of a country on the verge of collapse and not recovery, and Cyeria had been right - Loran didn't seem too bothered with actually speaking with anyone who might be able to confirm or deny this. Maybe these somewhat desperate tactics wouldn't do them any good in the end, but Remin wasn't going to toss away any chance to wedge this whole thing in their favor, no matter how tiny. Perhaps he might send a handful less soldiers when the war came to a head, or would target towns that he thought might fall easily but instead had militias to rival anything he might set upon them. It was all a chance - and so she would hand Cyeria falsehoods whenever she could for her to pepper around her office for as long as Loran insisted on spending most his time there.

It also freed up space for her to speak with people. Most their potential allies wouldn't be arriving until the festival itself, but she could gather the advisors under the guise of asking what decorations they might think would inspire the most peace and instead speak to them of the work they had added to their plate. She trusted them enough - especially since they, too, had undergone the purge of the castle a few months back (two had remained, but the last that had been involved in the plot against Cyeria had been replaced. There had been no apparent moves from that lot in long enough that Remin was near-convinced they had stopped that mess, but it was better to be safe than sorry.) So she tasked them with speaking with a few of families that needed a more delicate touch to them; Remin was, of course, confident enough in her own abilities, but it was what their job was after all.

By the time the evenings had come around, she had run herself rather ragged - but that was nothing different than the first weeks after their honeymoon, and it was no different than the next months or potentially years were going to be, depending on how this war all played out. She made no protest when Cyeria would wrap her up in her arms and refuse to let her go for anything, because there was no place she would rather be, even if she did fall asleep there earlier than she'd have liked to more often than not. This exhaustion at least had the benefit of driving her away from the need for whatever darkness took up the corners to be banished or some weapon within her eyesight before she could rest. No, all she needed now was quiet moments and the warmth of her wife before she was already asleep.

And then the festival. The day before was spent wandering the field, helping wherever Remin could get away with helping, and making sure that everything was running as smoothly as it possibly could. There was a handful of hiccups, but nothing that really mattered, and nothing that couldn't be sorted out before the next day. For as much work as all of this was, at least it was running smoothly. The weather held itself perfectly - a light breeze for the kites, but warm sun for the festival attendees, with the occasional cloud drifting by to offer some moments of shade. If Loran wasn't here, endlessly watching, Remin would dare call it perfect. But he was, which...complicated matters. Now that their potential allies had arrived, they had to actually speak with them. Yes, the advisers could speak with a handful of them, but this wasn't something Remin felt comfortable leaving her hands off of entirely - and some of those allies would come more easily if spoken to by the rulers themselves. So they had to, somehow, lose their tail. For all Remin's planning over the past days, she had no plan for this. She'd somewhat expected for Loran to split off from being Cyeria's shadow by then, but that had been a reckless thought. She should have known he wouldn't. So they spent most of the first day attending the festival with him trailing behind them, until finally Remin got sick of that feeling of dread and of being watched - and so Remin wasn't lying when she turned to Cyeria late in the afternoon after playing up that feeling of illness for a short while; holding tighter to Cyeria's arm, trailing behind, passing on food offered to them by the vendors. "Avther," She murmurs, quietly enough to put on the show that she doesn't want to be heard, but loudly enough that Loran can easily hear. "I'm not feeling very well. I think I may have to return to the castle to rest for a while. Would you be so kind as to escort me? I-- I'm not sure I could make it back alone." It wasn't a far walk by any means, but anything to give them the potential of Loran staying behind to keep a proper eye on things, or if failing that, at least separate Remin and Cyeria so that he's forced to follow only one of them.

 

[Aerynth]

Thank god for Remin's ingenuity, really. Because that excuse? That might actually work. Not only was it something believable, but it also capitalized on Remin's supposed weakness; in other words, it was exactly what Loran needed to hear. Immediately, Cyreia put on a concerned face. "So you didn't recover from the yesterday's sickness? I told you you didn't have to push yourself, my queen," she said, eager to flesh out the lie a little bit. Didn't details make falsehoods more convincing? Avther's entire existence only seemed plausible because-- well, because he was a complete person, not a caricature. "But yes, I shall accompany you. Surely you don't mind, my king?" she turned to face Loran. "I will return as soon as I can, but I'm afraid I have to tend to my wife's needs right now."

"Very well, then. Go, Avther. Your queen shouldn't travel unaccompanied." 'Because she's too stupid to make it home in one piece,' - that was the subtext lacing his words. Once again, Cyreia found herself thankful for her wife's acting abilities; had she not portrayed her role with such skill, king Loran might not have allowed them to leave this side. Now, though? He probably couldn't even conceptualize the idea of the tiny, naive Remin posing a threat to Eupriunia. That oversight would cost him dearly; she would take care of that. "Come, my queen. You really shouldn't overwork yourself the way you have recently," Cyreia continued to speak as they showed king Loran their backs, "it's... not good for your skin, I heard." God, she felt stupid for even saying something like that, but she, too, had a role to play; the role of a benevolent yet condescending husband. "You'll lie down for a while and everything will be fine." They headed towards the castle, or at least Cyreia made it look like that. Once some stalls blocked king Loran's line of sight, she pulled Remin behind them and gave her a cheeky smile. "You know, when you forget the circumstances, this almost feels good. As if we're two teenagers in love who are trying to escape from their guardians." She was being childish, even Cyreia could see that, but there wasn't anything particularly wrong with that. If you didn't joke about terrible things from time to time, they would inevitably drive you crazy. "I can't stay for long, so let's make the best of our time here before I have to return." Which basically meant: 'let's go find someone who might be interested in committing treason with us.' Not the ideal way to spend a holiday to be sure, but that was what they were reduced to.

Fortunately, they didn't have to search for long because Cyreia spotted the Everbright sisters. As always, they seemed to be the exact opposite of one another. The younger Everbright was dressed in an eye-catching emerald robe and blabbering about something excitedly, while her older sister (dressed in a practical grey robe) openly regretted every second spent in her continued presence. "Shall we go greet them?" Cyreia asked Remin.

 

[Conifer]

Good for her skin? In any other circumstance, Remin would openly laugh. Cyeria was far too good at playing the entirely uncertain husband, and that had a strange amount of charm to it. Not good for her skin indeed. It had worked better than she expected it to, even if it didn't grant them a huge amount of time to be alone together. A half-hour at most before Loran started to wonder where Cyeria was gone, and an hour if they were lucky before he started to come looking. Remin doubted they were lucky. Still, they had to take what time they could.

"Oh, your highnesses!" The younger Everbright greets cheerfully, crossing across the scrap of grass between them to pull them each into a light embrace. "Your festival's beautiful, it really is. All the kites! All the colors! I'll have to admit that I wasn't too sure about all of it when Ossia explained it all to me - there's so many people, and the bottom of my dress is getting dreadfully covered in dirt - but it really is a lot of fun. How are you both? Faring well? You're certainly looking just as lovely as last time, though Avther, you do look much nicer in things that properly fit you." Oh, Remin had missed this. All this blabber that she only had to really listen to half of, and where none of it held threat or warning.

"Melody," Ossia warns gently, finally crossing the space as well - but whatever the warning might be, her sister seems eager to ignore it entirely if she didn't keep speaking. "It is wonderful to see you both again."

"And just as wonderful to see you each." Remin smiles politely. "We were actually just searching for you. Is there some chance you have a few minutes to spare? There's...something important that we'd like to speak with you about."

"We have time!" Melody agrees immediately, seeming more curious about whatever it is that they might have to say than considerate of her and her sister's plans, whatever they might have been.

It's difficult to find somewhere quiet and private to discuss at the festival, and Remin elects to simply lead them back to the castle; they really can't risk someone overhearing them yet, and the best privacy they'd manage to scrape together here would be some walls of thin, brightly colored fabric. No, they need stone walls and locked doors.

 

[Aerynth]

God, Cyreia had forgotten just how infectious lady Everbright's chatter was; even now, she found herself smiling from ear to ear. "It's been... interesting to say the least." More like dreadful, honestly, but there was no need to sour the mood now. That would happen soon enough even without her initiative and Cyreia wanted to enjoy a few moments of peace. She was almost beginning to see the appeal of smalltalk now; if they got stuck in these meaningless games of words, they wouldn't have any room to discuss things that actually mattered, and since those things scared her right now, that would count as a win in her book. "Sadly, I have to admit I haven't met anyone worthy of being your suitor yet. Soldiers that also double as poetry connoisseurs are a fairly rare breed, so it might take a while. Hopefully you'll find it in your heart to forgive me. But yes, it is a pleasure to see you, too. Both of you." It surprised her that it hadn't even been a lie; Melody was a breeze of fresh air amidst all the schemers and traitors, and Ossia... Ossia hadn't acted against them yet. What an incredibly low bar to pass, right? Still, few people managed to do that these days, so Cyreia would take it. They couldn't exactly afford to be choosy when it came to their friends.

Fortunately, it didn't take them too long to reach the castle; it also didn't seem that passers-by paid them much attention. Who would observe people, after all, when there were kites and other marvels to admire? Only a fool, surely. Once the door of Cyreia's office closed behind them, Ossia finally spoke.

"Well, your highnesses? What did you want to talk about?"

"I bet they want to know the name of the tailor that made my dress," Melody giggled. "I cannot share that, though! He's a very busy man and if he were to work for you as well, he would have no time for me anymore."

"No, my lady," Cyreia smiled warmly, "it's not about that. Sit down, please." Because nobody should receive such news while standing. "We, uh. We wanted to ask you for help, actually," she said before sitting down herself. God, this was going to be difficult. How did one even inform their subjects of something like that? Would 'hello, we're picking a fight with one of the greatest military powerhouses in the world, please join us' do? Somehow, that seemed doubtful. No, they had to be more careful than that. Perhaps describing the situation to them and watching their reactions could work? At least they would have some kind of idea as to what they thought of it and whether they were willing to pledge themselves to their cause. "... we're in a predicament of sorts," Cyreia said frankly, looking Ossia right in the eye. As much as she would have preferred to negotiate with Melody instead, it was obvious that the older sister ran their household, and so she was the one they needed to address. "Long story short, king Loran demands a large sum of money before we're ready to pay it and won't take no for an answer."

 

[Conifer]

Remin wished desperately that it was as simple as a tailor - who, to the Everbright's credit, did look incredibly talented. The dresses themselves were simple upon first glance, suited to wandering around an area with all sorts of different people, but the details - tiny things embroidered along the hems, subtle beadwork stretched across the grey and the green, the fabric itself - revealed the two of them to be people of some notable importance. Remin wondered who had had them made, and...really, she doubted it was was the older sister who had very little to say unprompted about their clothing. That was all the more indication that the younger Everbright was much more than she let on, to be so delicate and deliberate about this. Perhaps dresses would never win a war and gossip would never make peace, but they might have some impact on something. Or it was the designs of the tailor and Melody had utterly nothing to do with the tastefulness of it; who knew?

Remin stayed standing, finding a place behind Cyeria's chair. It felt...better, to stand. There was more control to be had there, or at least it felt like it. She watched in silence as the others sat, prim as anything, with the puzzled and intrigued expression on Melody's face making up for the lack of anything readable on Ossia's.

"...And?" Ossia leans forward slightly, eyebrows raising in- what was that, challenge or curiosity? "Are you looking for a loan?"

"Not...quite, no." Remin shakes her head, squeezing Cyeria's shoulder for comfort. "This isn't the sort of demand that a loan would sort out, or else we'd have this sorted much more easily."

 

[Aerynth]

"What is it that you want, then?" Ossia raised her eyebrow, the tone of her voice somewhere between cold politeness and hostility. God, maybe all of this was a terrible idea, but it wasn't like Cyreia could just go 'nevermind' and pretend none of this had happened. Besides, they needed the Everbrights. The Everbrights, the Marshes, and all the noble houses that likely hated her with a passion. Except-- they didn't hate her, did they? Or at least not her as a person. The nobles despised what she represented and if that turned out to no longer be true, then there was no reason to scheme against her, right? In theory. Cyreia exhaled and squeezed the hand Remin had placed on her shoulder, thankful for the gesture. What she had to say didn't come to her easily. It was one thing to speak honestly to her wife who loved and cherished her; sharing such dangerous plans with a woman who had once been (or perhaps still was?) involved in a conspiracy to kill her, on the other hand, was something entirely different.

"You see, my ladies, a loan is not a solution," she started carefully. This would have been much, much simpler if she could actually decipher Ossia's expression, but alas, that wasn't going to happen; the woman guarded herself too well. "Not a permanent one at the very least. He demands regular payments. Surely you'd agree that this is unsustainable." No amount of loans could save them from this mess; even if they did find someone able and willing to lend them that much money, they'd still inevitably slide into debt. The only difference here would be that it wouldn't be just king Loran seeking to drain their treasury, but also their generous sponsors. No, Cyreia would much rather try and risk everything in order to win salvation for the kingdom rather than-- rather than succumb to inevitable death. Between fire and decay, flames were always the more merciful choice. "What we want is your support," she said and leaned forward somewhat. "Your support, and also the support of your friends. It will come in handy when we refuse to give in to the demands." And there it was, Cyreia's admission that they were going to betray king Loran in all its glory. Maybe this would go down in history as the exact moment her downfall began; the moment she trusted her enemy foolishly and paid dearly for it. It could also be the exact opposite of that, though. Her words might be the marker of an era when they put aside their petty differences and focused on what was truly important. What would it be? They'd see soon enough, Cyreia supposed.

 

[Conifer]

"Are you suggesting rebellion?" Melody interjects, eyes wide and far more delighted with this turn of events than anyone had any right to be. It's nearly comical at this point, but the gravity of the situation drags it away from any humor that might be found in her reaction - instead, it's just a strange disconnect. An earnestness that feels unearned. Remin nods, mute for a moment; it's much harder to put to words their plan in the face of someone who isn't conspiring right beside her.

"...yes. Yes, I suppose that's exactly what we're suggesting." She admits, and Melody grabs for her sister's arm - who, in turn, takes her hand in hers and holds it there against the sleeve of her dress. A comfort for which of them, Remin wonders? Or just a tampered expression of strange excitement? "We...don't intend to declare war ourselves. But we have it on good authority that he's likely to call one when we refuse. We're hoping to- be prepared before that happens. If we have the support behind us before he even realizes what he's going to do, then that's the only way Athea stands any proper chance. And even then...I'm the first to admit that it's risky. But I can promise that, should you support your country in this, then your kindnesses will be repayed if we live long enough to repay them." Oh, and that's what it is, isn't it? Their own lives? Remin hadn't realized it before that moment, but...there's very little chance that either of them live through this betrayal if they lose the war. She had called for Wellan's death, and she considered herself a much more sympathetic ruler than Loran. Well, Remin had done a lot of living for Athea. She may as well die for it, too.

There's silence between the sisters for a moment, before Melody squeezes where her hand still is being held. "Ossia-", but whatever argument she might be trying to make is lost by a quiet nod on her sister's part.

"I can't promise support on behalf of my own allies." She says, carefully. "But a loan is certainly not the solution, no. What if you do fail, though? You risk yourselves, which you seem aware of, but you also risk each person who agrees to aid you. A loan or taxes now may be less than whatever punishment we might face at the end of all of this - or did you not remember that you just lost a war with Eupriunia? My king, I'm sure you of all people remember that quite well."

 

[Aerynth]

It... probably wasn't strange that Melody reacted the way she did, really. In her mind, a rebellion was likely something akin to a grand adventure; a subject of ballads bards would sing years after they drew their last breath. And when viewed from that angle? Cyreia had to admit that, as a story, the whole mess did look appealing. The drama of a soldier turning against his former master, the insurmountable odds, a love story amidst it all; it had all the makings of a legend. It would likely turn into one, too, should they survive it. If they didn't, king Loran would likely erase their very names from from the history. That was how Eupriunia worked; enemies were either made an example of or they pretended that they had never existed in the first place, and Cyreia had an inkling that the latter would be their fate. They wouldn't want the future generations to know, after all, that the famous Avther had betrayed them.

... betrayal. God, the word still tasted strange on her tongue. She should get used to the taste, Cyreia supposed, because a traitor was what she was now. How surreal. Surreal and, at the same time, strangely comfortable. Was that what her life had been heading towards to since she had joined the army, like moth drawn towards flame?

"If we fail," she said and offered Ossia a grim smile, "then we die. We'll likely be tortured before it happens, too. Maybe not you because they may not deem you to be important enough, but me? I would be shocked if they didn't resort to it." What? Cyreia wasn't going to lie to them or attempt to make the reality look better than it actually was. Ossia had asked her a question and she intended to answer it honestly. Sincerity, after all, won you allies more reliably than deception ever did. "If we don't do something about it, though, we'll die anyway. It'll be slower and maybe also gentler, granted, but death is death no matter how you look at it. What I'm offering you is a chance to escape that fate. A chance to fight back. A chance to die honorably if it turns that we have to instead-- instead of sticking our heads in the sand."

As Cyreia spoke, her voice grew more steady, more confident; this was her comfort zone. She had made similar speeches hundreds, maybe even thousands of times, and it showed. Once again, Avther the king had been replaced by Avther the commander. "And you are mistaken, my lady. I have never lost a war with Eupriunia. You did. I won't feed you empty promises of guaranteed victory, but I'll say this: we do have a real chance if nothing else. I'm here, and I know very well how the Eupriunian army works. Hell, I invented some of their go-to strategies. With my knowledge and your resources, we can show them how bad of an idea antagonizing Athea was."

 

[Conifer]

"Or King Loran is well-aware that you know how their strategies work and will plan for that." She argues - though there's little emotion to it. Ossia's arguing a diplomat's argument, and Remin would be shocked if, at the end of it, she didn't agree to help them. As long as their answers were satisfactory - which, judging (and a small amount of hoping,) from the strength in Cyeria's voice, they would be.
She hated this voice. She also, equally, loved this voice. It was the voice from the fields, from the camp, from those little scraps of moments that it poked its way through this (relatively, Remin supposed - it had all been a while since she'd been crowned king by now,) new environment that she found herself in. It was a voice made through need, and less through passion, but it had its use. Like right now. Sure, Remin could argue with Ossia all they wanted - but it would do far less good when it didn't come from the mouth of the one making the most dramatic of choices. No, Cyeria had to be the one doing the convincing. At least here. "And his troops know those plays. Athea's don't, unless you've been secretly recruiting enough people for a new army and training them for the past months."

"And it won't matter if we have enough of an upper hand." Remin protests. Perhaps Cyeria needs to do the convincing, but she's not going to abandon her to this argument. "We'll at least know what to expect. We'll at least know how to avoid it. Even if he changes some of the strategies...if we can be prepared and then force his hand, he won't have the time to do plan things we can't somewhat expect."

"That's hinging a lot on your abilities to get others to help you." She hums, sitting back - she still holds her sister's hand, though, who's watching this whole exchange with barely repressed emotion. She looks like she's halfway to bouncing out of her seat, but for now, she's quiet.

 

[Aerynth]

"That is entirely possible," Cyreia nodded. King Loran wasn't a fool; if he stopped for a second and thought about all of this, he probably wouldn't use the strategies she out of all people had developed. That didn't mean, though, that he wasn't foolish in other ways. "It can, however, be a blessing in disguise. You see, my strategies are actually good. I can't say the same about his ideas. They're... alright, I suppose, but nothing terribly inventive. That's why he kept me close; so that I could whisper into his ear and advise him when his own imagination fell short." It was strange to criticize him so openly when she had spent most of her life in service to him, but it also felt cathartic in a way. Back in Eupriunia, nobody dared to utter a single bad word about him; the risk that came with disrespecting the king was too great. It didn't exist here, though, and so Cyreia could finally speak freely. It was yet another freedom Athea offered to her; a freedom that king Loran was trying to take away from her. Not that she'd let him. No, she would show him that he couldn't have everything he pointed at, least of all her dignity. (Where had that strength come from? Cyreia didn't remember having it before. Maybe-- maybe she had it all backwards. Maybe not having anything to lose didn't make a person stronger; maybe true strength could be found in having something to protect.)

"It does," she agreed with Ossia once again. Cyreia was far from an expert when it came to diplomacy, but the whole talk seemed to be going rather well. If nothing else, the Everbright sisters evidently didn't find the whole concept of rebellion to be abhorrent. In fact, Ossia looked like she liked the idea. What stopped her from pledging herself to their cause, Cyreia supposed, was caution. That wasn't a bad position for a leader to take, actually, even if it worked against then now. Well, no matter. Cyreia would get through to her. "I think I can be fairly convincing, though. Besides, there are many countries that would like to see Eupriunia lose for once. Imagine how that would change the entire political landscape." She fell silent for a while, wanting to give Ossia an opportunity to truly think about it. To grasp the consequences.

"I understand, however, that the whole endeavor is rather risky. How about this: I'll only ask you to support us if I manage to secure other allies as well. I don't want you to throw your life away as some sort of statement, after all. Is that fair enough?" It wasn't like they could declare a war on Eupriunia with only the Everbrights backing them anyway. The whole rebellion would be doomed then.

 

[Conifer]

Melody snorted with some sort of twisted delight at Cyeria's proclaimation that 'her strategies are actually good'. Remin herself bit back a smile; Cyeria wasn't wrong, but it was still bold to say that with the man she was besmirching only a mile away at best. It was bold to say that regardless of where he stood, actually. Still...not wrong. Remin might not have been involved in the war plannings herself too much, but there had been...rumors of similar to what Cyeria said. That his strength was his men, not his mind. She hadn't been sure how much that had been true then (surely at some point they became one in the same?) but if Cyeria said it now, she trusted it to be true.

"...if others have concerns similar to mine and need further convincing, you may add our name to your allies if you must. However, I'd appreciate you being as discreet in our involvement as you can be for as long as you can be. A matter of safety - I'm sure you understand. You might doubt that he'd harm us, but I don't have that same faith." Ossia says carefully, eventually, and it's as much of a win as Remin hoped to get out of this whole scenario. They were an ally secured. They might not have a plentiful militia to add to the ranks, or as much money to contribute as some of their other hopefuls, but it was a victory - and where they lacked in material goods they made up for in connections. That one was more the younger Everbright's doing, with her parties and her eagerness to talk with anyone and everyone, but Ossia was the one who strengthened those connections into something that could be made use of. They were, really, a rather formidable duo. One that would be good to have on their side when seeking more allies. Remin hoped they wouldn't have to abuse the permission to namedrop too much, but she wasn't going to shy away from it. They were all in danger otherwise, nevermind whatever Loran might do if he learned about their aiding in the rebellion.

"And I expect a hefty repayment when you win this fight." Ossia finally sits back; the air in the room shifts vaguely away from the tension that wracked it only moments ago. "We'll discuss those terms later...nothing exorbitant, of course, and we'll make ourselves worth the cost. But we will be repayed one way or another."

 

[Aerynth]

"Of course," Cyreia said. Somehow, she managed to keep her voice under control despite it feeling like her heart was about to jump out of her chest. They made it! The Everbrights were theirs, or as theirs as they possibly could be, and that was only a start. Soon enough, a whole army of supporters would be standing behind them; Cyreia would take care of that. She wanted to laugh, wanted to embrace Remin and kiss her until she drowned in her, but naturally, this wasn't the time to be doing any of those things. No, the talk hadn't ended yet. "Don't worry, my lady, it's not in our interest to spread who our allies are." To be frank, Cyreia hadn't even expected to receive that permission from her. Did it mean that Ossia truly believed in their cause? Wanting to support the independence was one thing; almost everyone in Athea probably wished for it on some level. Actually doing so, though? Doing so and risking so much in the process? That had to count for something, surely. If nothing else, it meant that Ossia trusted her despite-- well, despite her being her. Despite her hailing from Eupriunia. Given the fact that she had wanted to kill her a few months ago, Cyreia considered it to be a notable improvement. (Was this just a sign of things to come? Would the people of Athea eventually approve enough for her to be able to love Remin openly? Oh, how beautiful that would be!)

"I wouldn't expect anything else," Cyreia smiled when Ossia assured her that there was a price attached to their help. "I'd rather be indebted to you and other nobles than to king Loran anyway." The Everbrights, at the very least, weren't hellbent on destroying the country. "We can discuss the exact terms later. I'd love to stay and talk some more, truly, but I must return to the festival now. If I don't show up soon, it'll be suspicious." It was probably suspicious even now, but Cyreia could probably lie her way out of that one. She'd say that-- that Remin got even sicker and she had to help her get to her bed or something like that. Yes, that would work.

"I understand," Ossia said calmly. "We should take our leave, too. It would be unwise of us to linger here for longer than necessary."

"Yes, yes!" Melody beamed. "Besides, there's still a festival to enjoy, people to talk to! And who knows? Maybe I could find someone who would share our interests."

Ossia shot her a strange glance, though she chose not to comment on her sister's behavior. Cyreia was willing to bet that there would be an argument, but apparently she didn't feel it necessary to fight with Melody in front of their king and queen. Both sisters bowed and, soon after that, they left. "I almost can't believe they actually agreed," Cyreia chuckled before kissing Remin softly. Holding their own private celebration for the moment would have been nice, but unfortunately they couldn't afford to do that. Maybe later when the war was actually won. "Did you have any plan regarding our next course of action? I was thinking you could change into something... something less attention grabbing and go talk to the other nobles. Meanwhile, I'd stay with Loran and ensure that he doesn't see you. I bet he'll want to participate in that parade, too, and when that happens, I'll use that opportunity to slip away and go talk to the foreign aristocrats and rulers. Or did you have a different idea?"

 

[Conifer]

Remin watched them leave with her expression mostly under control - a little pleased, sure; who wouldn't be with the first of their dealings going better than she'd expected it to? - but the moment they were gone, she sank to sit along the edge of the desk, relieved and delighted. She wasn't going to get too excited, because that was just asking for the world to give her a reason not to be so happy, but...that had gone well. She was allowed to be pleased. Remin looped her arms around Cyeria's waist, holding her loosely close in this tiny amount of time where she could touch freely without even the fear of someone peering through a window (there were none in the office, after all, for the safety of the occupants and the information held within.)

"That makes me nervous," Remin admits. "If he sees me...well, I'm sure I can lie well enough. Wandering in a fever-fuelled haze, or something like that. I can't stay cooped up here and doing nothing when we have such a chance to gain allies in person. So as nervous as it might make me, I suppose it's as good a plan as anything might be." Besides, the fair grounds were large enough and Loran wasn't subtle. She would notice him before he noticed her, surely? But maybe..."Do you have your communication stone on you?" she asks softly, raising her own hand to where the chain hangs - as it always does - around her neck. "If anything happens, we should have a way to communicate. If you think he's catching on to something, or if you're headed back to the castle with him for any reason. Just as a precaution." Perhaps it wasn't even going to be necessary, but she didn't want to chance that. Too much rode on this.

 

[Aerynth]

"I do." Cyreia reached somewhere under her tunic and pulled the medallion out for Remin to see; the silver chain it hung on glimmered in the sunlight as she did so. "I don't take it off these days." And she probably never would. It had saved her wife's life a few weeks ago, and that memory was still fresh in her mind. What if they needed to communicate in a similar manner again? Well, apparently they did, so her instinct had been right. "I'll warn you if things get out of hand. But since it's likely I won't be able to speak openly-- hmm, let's say that if I praise king Loran's clothes, it means that you should stop doing whatever you're doing and get out of there." Being able to give her more specific information would have been safer, but a vague warning was still better than nothing. "It'll be fine, though," Cyreia smiled, unsure whether she was trying to convince Remin or herself. "I'm sure distracting him won't be that difficult of a task. If worse comes to worst, I'll trip, fall down and make a fool out of myself. He'll be too busy lecturing me about 'kingly behavior' to notice what is happening around him." Was it even a joke? Cyreia wasn't sure herself. It was a little dramatic, granted, but it probably would work.

Still, she hoped she wouldn't have to resort to that. Everything would go much, much more smoothly if Loran just remained his typical unobservant self. Overlooking things was a virtue in his mind; a king, he had once said to her, shouldn't concern himself with trifles. Cyreia sort of agreed with that statement on a conceptual level because a king obviously couldn't micro-manage an entire country, except that a lot of what he considered to be trifles were actually important details. If we are lucky, he will pay for that foolishness soon enough.

Finding king Loran wasn't particularly difficult, even in the middle of the festive chaos; he was surrounded by his bodyguards wearing shiny plate armor and that alone made him stand out. It made people stay away, too, which probably suited him just fine. Interacting with the smallfolk only made one look weak, he always said. "My king," Cyreia muttered when she returned. "I'm sorry I took so long. My queen's condition worsened and I had to help her get into her bed. Hopefully you haven't grown too bored in my absence? If you wish, I can... show you around. We have prepared many things to enjoy; surely some of it would be to your liking?" There were few things Cyreia would enjoy less than spending time with this cold man, but she had promised to act as a distraction, and so a distraction she would be.

Meanwhile, Remin had more options than Cyreia did. Lost among the crowd, her freedom was practically unlimited. Who would she approach? A familiar face (such as one of the Marshes or lady Beleret) or one of the nobles she didn't know that well yet? Or perhaps a Caldora council member? So many choices, so little time.

 

[Conifer]

The sight of Cyeria's chain hanging around her neck brought more comfort than Remin had expected it to. She wasn't...surprised that her wife still wore it, after the fate it had saved Remin from, but little time together had given her equally little time to notice that the delicate chain still settled over her throat. And it was a strange thrill to see it there. They might be bound with rings from their involuntary wedding, but they were bound far more closely by these necklaces, and these were a choice. But it wasn't really as deep as that, Remin supposed. It was safety. Protection. Though, she thinks if she voiced her sentiments out loud, Cyeria would do anything but disagree with her, and so she allows herself to indulge in the thought of the necklaces as something as proof of their affections. "His clothes." She agrees, smoothing out Cyeria's collar with gentle, firm fingertips. "I'll do my best to listen out. And I'll try to keep out of the main events as best I can. Probably safer, that way."

They had to part sooner than later, though, and so Remin stole one last kiss from Cyeria before gently pushing the woman away. Too much longer and whatever lies they came up with would still seem suspicious upon her returning to Loran. And Remin had talks to have, she supposed. Changing was easy enough - she found a dress more suited to sneaking around festivals and having nervewraking conversations of proposed rebellion and slipped it on, gave Cyeria enough time to leave for the festival that they wouldn't be seen walking together (likely an unnecessary step, but one she took anyways,) and then headed out herself.

While she did have choice on who to speak to - a choice which she ran over in her head on the journey back (who would be best? They needed the easy ones now. They needed to build up a proof of concept before they could drag any of the less-than-eager into this mess, or they simply wouldn't come at all.) Still, there was less choice than it seemed that there was unless she wanted to be searching the large festival field for the entire day for specific people. No, she'd just...see whoever she saw that might fit the category of 'a high likelihood of hating Eupriunia', speak with them, and repeat until either she exhausted herself, her options, or Cyeria's voice came tinny over the stone around her neck.

 

[Aerynth]

The rest of the morning passed in a strange haze; it was both stressful and boring, awkward and filled with great expectations. King Loran wasn't the best companion for-- well, pretty much anything, but trying to spend some time with him in a personal capacity was a bizarre affair. Not that that was what Cyreia was doing, of course; had she had the choice, she would have rather jumped into a freezing river with her armor still on. No, showing him around was purely business. It did resemble hanging out with him, though, and Cyreia had to wonder whether he hated her or whether he was always like this. Always so cold, always so unapproachable. Did he put up these walls in the presence of his friends as well? In the presence of his wife? (Cyreia had never met her because she had been a soldier and military wasn't a woman's domain, but she had heard some of the rumors circulating about her. Apparently she spent almost no time with him, preferring to stay confined in her chambers instead. She, too, had been a war prize at some point.)

Either way, Cyreia did her best to be as courteous and entertaining as she could possibly manage. There was no need to provoke king Loran's ire, after all; that could give him a reason to wander away from her, and she couldn't have that. What if he happened to spot Remin? The probability of that was rather low as Cyreia believed her wife wouldn't be so foolish as to negotiate with their potential allies out in the open, but still. Remin getting kidnapped through illegal magic hadn't been very likely, either, and that had very much happened. Why rely on luck now? Somehow, Cyreia managed to convince Loran to watch a few plays with her; that both consumed his attention and ensured he would stay in one place for an extended period of time, so she considered it to be a victory. Remin was free to scheme, at least for a while.

Or maybe not. As Remin made her way through the crowd, someone caught her by her sleeve. When she turned around to face the source of her trouble, she saw a strange man. He didn't look familiar, though the way he was dressed looked distinctly Weroughian; his outfit had that sort of deliberate modesty to it, with the muted colors and whatnot. Amidst all the people who had mostly chosen to wear cheerful colors, he seemed almost out of place. Out of place and somewhat disconcerting, like a single raven among doves. "What exactly do you think you're doing?" he hissed. It didn't look like he had any intention of letting her go, either.