Closed.

-Agree with her about music, starting a civil conversation

Clare was suprised the servant didn't know much. She was even more caught of guard when the Madame started to sing. She listened in awe, once again lulled by the music, until she saw her eyes. They're cold. Such frozen lakes can never harbor a heart.

She wanted to believe there was nothing wrong with her. However, she now knew she needed to take action. She thanked the servent before heading over to the woman. "Excuse me." She said gently to the woman. "I just agreed with everything you said about music. How did you get such an idea?!" She said, excitedly.
 
Clare had her complete attention.

"How lovely." She said, eyeing her speculatively. "That you agree with me. I can tell you are a woman who knows much of art. Come, sit with me and I will tell you. What is your name, madam?"

As Clare answered and they made their acquaintance, Madame stayed by her side for some time. Together they defended their jointly-held position against others in the room.

She turned to Clare often to hear her opinion, smiled at her readily and after a time, rested her hand familiarly upon her arm. Fortunately she was wearing gloves and wouldn't be able to drain Clare through the cloth. Moreover there was no reason to think she was a Lighteater, but just in case, such concerns were normal in Clare's case. However, there was now a matter that the Prince's mistress appeared to be flirting with her.

- Flirt back, it is the best way to learn her intentions.
- Stay close, but discourage flirting.
- Step back, repulsed.
 
-Stay close, but discourage flirting

Clare was glad that the Madame took a liking to her. But, was suprised she started flirting with her. Why does she keep wanting to flirt? Unless this was also the way she coaxed the Prince in. I'll have to suspect that. Clare walked with her calmly, trying to give a smile and a nod then voicing her opinions. "You are as lovely as they say Madame! But, I'm just curious... What's your relationship with the Prince? I've always been curious since I heard the news." She said, trying to lean in closer to her as if this was a secret. It may as well be depending on if she trusts Clare or not.
 
Madame Albescu allowed her to discourage her, but her eyes seemed amused.

"My dear madam, a lady cannot speak about such things so publicly." She said, giving Clare a look.

Madame disentangles from Clare and after a couple of moments she could be seen very close to Finch, talking and smiling. Eventually giving him the same amount of attention she afforded Clare earlier.

Some moments later a drawling voice rose over the murmur of the crowd. It belonged to a long haired Mercian poet, a young man who looked quite infatuated with the whole salon. "I am writing a novel." He said enthusiastically. "Set in the days of the old Empire. It is the story of a young explorer who sets off to see what lies on the other side of the icy seas, with nothing to guide or guard him but the sunstone left to him by his late father. The journey he takes is a metaphor, you see, for his inner journey of self-discovery."

The crowd murmured in appreciation.

"I am particularly enjoying writing about the sunstone." The poet continued. "I have never seen one, of course, but only imagine what it must be like to look through it and even on a cloudy day at once see the sun. Imagine how it must have been, navigating a ship through the ancient waters with nothing more than the sacred stone. The people of Mercia ought to see there is an alternative to our machinery-driven modern world."

"Indeed they ought." Finch agreed, in the slight accent and the manner of speech from the colonies, as was his cover. "We are too prone to take for granted the wonders of the modern world. A novel set in the time when the mastery of the sea was restricted to those fortunate enough to possess one of a few sunstones will surely prompt appropriate appreciation for the Mercian invention of the chronometer."

Madame Albescu turned toward him, looking quite spurned by his stance.

- Stay out of it.
- Pretend to argue with Finch, holding Madame's side and high opinion of the sunstone.
- Agree with Finch, talking about the marvels of technology.
 
-Pretend to argue with Finch, holding Madame's side and high opinion of the sunstone.

Clare was a little angry that she ended up leaving her so soon. Perhaps she caught on. Then, she saw the Madame flirting with Finch. Despite knowing his intentions, she found herself gripping a wine glass very hard. If anyone walked up to her she would have snapped at them. She was jealous.

Then, she relaxed a bit as everyone's attention started to be drawn to the novelist. She didn't quite understand where this idea came from until Finch spoke up. Clare noted the woman's look and decided to feed the fire a little to see her reaction to things could prove useful as well. Clare spoke up, arguing Finch's point in favor of the Madame's.
 
"You'll make them think we're uncultured barbarians, only interested in efficiency and profit." Clare said. "You've missed the point - the chronometer imposes such a distance between the navigator and the world."

"I'm not the one who's missed the point." Finch responded. "The wonders of our modern world ensure that opportunities are available to anyone capable of rising to the challenge, not only a fortunate few. Oh, my humble apologies, ma'am. I do hope I wasn't speaking out of turn."

"Of course not." Madame said. "I only feel sorry for you. You do not see how the way you live here crushes the soul. You have distanced yourself from the sea, the sun, the food you eat, even the touch of another person's hand." She indicated the fashionable elbow-length gloves she wore. "Our ways are simpler, but infinitely more rewarding."

"Only for those of you born into power." Finch hissed quietly. "The mastery of the seas used to be only for those whose families owned a sunstone. The ability to heal a fellow creature used to be only for those born with a certain hereditary trait. Chronometers and medicine are for everyone."

There was a pause.

Then Madame laughed. "Oh, but this is wonderful. I haven't enjoyed such marvelous conversation in far too long. Mr Hawthorne, you and Miss Keelie simply must come to the ball the Embassy is giving in my honor at the end of the week. I won't take no for an answer, it is the least I can do, given the entertainment you have provided me this afternoon."

And that was all that Finch and Clare needed. A chance to further look into Madame, the Prince and their suspicious behaviour.

Once they were back in the carriage, safely, on their way back, Clare finally had a chance to speak with Finch freely.

- "That was excellent."
- "You've made yourself a target."
- "How much of that outburst was because she flirted with me?"
- "Did you only pretend to flirt with her at first, or...?"
- Something else.
 
-"How much of that outburst was because she flirted with me?"

Clare tried not to smile as she invited them to the Embassy. At least that worked out in her favor, unlike everything else. She sat in the carriage and started to laugh as the carriage road down the street. "I was so nervous, but it worked!" She said grabbing his arm. Then she blushed a little as she softened her grip. "Uh, how much of that outburst was because she flirted with me?" She asked somewhat shyly.
 
"Ten percent." Finch answered, leaning back into the cushions and closing his eyes. "Another fifteen was actual righteous outrage at the drivel coming out of that young idiot's mouth. The rest was the tactic of the moment. We'll have to play up our philosophical differences next time we're around her, so she draws closer to you, her supposed ally." He opened his eyes and grinned. "We've got an invitation to a ball. We can learn more there, but we have some information already. We've learned she seems to find it appropriate to flirt with other men and women, despite her liaison with the Prince. And we've learned that she believes in using subtle manipulation to slowly influence the people around her. She said herself that's what art is for. I think we can dismiss the idea that her manipulation of the Prince is unintentional."

Clare would have a bit of free time before the ball. While Finch still had his Detective job, she hadn't fully returned to it, despite this mission. She had her clinic to attend to, as well as the matter of Jed and the suspicious wine.

- Take it easy.
- Analyze the wine.
- Check on Jed at the Temple.
 
-Analyze the wine

Clare glanced up at him and let out a quiet breath of slight disappointment. It wasn't totally out of reason to be more jealous. Finch was usually focused on the task at hand more so than her.

She saw she had free time and knew she had to use it wisely. Therefore, she immediately took the wine out where she had stored it. Okay, I should be careful about this myself. I have a little sun magic in me too.
 
It was as if she could see tiny specks of gold inside the bottle as she looked it over, mulling the wine inside of it. She was a field doctor and while she could treat wound and minor ailments, she was not a proper chemist and would not be able to analyze the bottle in depth. However, as a sun touched, she felt the energy of the liquid inside the lavish bottle. It also seemed like it was singing to her, drawing her to take a sip, to just try it, after all what was the harm in it.

The harm was that she would become unable to control herself, just like Jed. She knew that much, thankfully.

That was all she could learn out of the wine. It was dangerous and definitely tampered with, it was no normal wine. She had to hide it somewhere, lock it away so no ones comes close to it, lest they be tempted to try it.

- Go to the Temple to see Jed.
- Take it easy until the ball.
 
-Take it easy until the ball

Clare wanted to drink it. It must be nice for Jed. She wanted to take a lick of it, but she pulled herself out of the trance. "Get this away from me." She mumbled as she slammed the wine away.

She felt sick once it was away, but knew she had to get away from it. She left it in her office and decided to relax until the ball. Perhaps she could go shopping with Finch.
 
In the following couple of days Clare did her usual work in the clinic and not much else. Finch was on minor assignments and had enough time for private life once they were both in their flat. Their relationship flourished. They even managed to go ion the shopping trip that Clare had wanted. Although, Finch was not a good shopping partner. He tended to over-analyze the prices and quality and never really gave any useful insight on the things Clare put on.

Eventually she received a letter from Christopher Taggart speaking about Jed and his recovery. It seemed that the effects of the wine were not permanent and they were already fading for the young man. Those were good news at least.

--

The night of the Embassy Ball arrived. Clare would be spending the evening in the Vlaski Embassy. Surrounded by Vlaskesari. Behind enemy lines.

She pulled on her formal white gloves, covering her hands to the wrist. For a moment she could hear the echo of Sergeant Thippe's voice, getting the lads ready for a raid, back on the warfront. "Cover every inch of skin. All they need is one touch."

Not that a ball at the Vlaski Embassy, with the Mercian elite and the Crown Prince himself in attendance, was the same thing as a Goraska prison camp raid. Of course it was not.

- Be nervous, but resolute.
- Be anxious.
- Be sick, but try to conceal it.
 
Last edited:
-Be anxious

She stared at the gloves as she thought of Jeb and Madame filled her head. So much was happening it was starting to make her anxious. She rubbed her hands together as she started to walk out.

Focus. It's all you need to do.
 
The Vlaski Embassy was a brick building, indistinguishable from the others on the street except for the green and gold flags flying out front. Eminently ordinary carriages paused out front to disgorge ordinary Mercians in formal dress.

But stepping through the heavily-shadowed doorway felt like stepping into another world. Servants relieved Clare and Finch coats and showed them down a shadowed hallway and toward the ballroom. The scent of that unmistakable incense hung heavily in the air, stronger with every step she took toward the ballroom doorway.

7b26ce70a5571fa0df713728e13b2f8e.jpg

The Vlaski Ambassador and his wife stood just inside the doorway, receiving their guests.

Like most Vlaski aristocrats, the Ambassador and his wife were fair-skinned, with hair of a shade between red and gold. The Ambassador wore the typical Vlaski pompous dress uniform, while his wife wore a beautiful gown and she was a beautiful woman - unblemished skin and unstreaked hair. But her eyes were hard, older than the rest of her face. The Ambassador, too, seemed young for his position until Clare looked into his eyes.

While it is possible for two Vlaski aristocrats to look younger than their years and yet not be Lighteaters, that's not where a gambling man would place his money.

- Watch them with disgust.
- Mask your reaction, keep calm.
- Scan the crowd for other possible Lighteaters.
- You expected this, keep calm and continue.
 
-You expected this, keep calm and continue

Clare tried not to squirm as they walked. She made sure to act like Madame as she held her chin up to the world. This only weakened once she smelled the air and saw the people.

She immediately took note of their eyes. She had seen eyes like those before. But, what did she expect? The party was Vlaski. Therefore, she only smiled bigger and bowed deeper.
 
In the ballroom beyond, Mercian guests and Vlaski Embassy officials stood in small groups, chatting. The groups were pretty thoroughly mingled, but Clare could still tell who is who.

The Vlaski women all wore voluminous old-fashioned gowns made of heavy draped fabrics in rich colors and all are tall, stately, and red or golden haired.

The Mercian women were a more diverse group, hair color ranging from fair to dark, gowns a rainbow of soft pastels, soft clinging trains looped easily over the wrist for dancing. As a group, they looked less uniform than the Vlaski ladies, less elegant, less tidy - and infinitely more human.

Servants scurried about, offering small glasses of vodka. Some of them didn't look well.

"Holding up all right?" Finch asked quietly behind her.

- Nod firmly.
- Not really, but you can manage.
- You are occupied with the mission.
- You are not troubled, you welcome the challenge.
 
-Not really, but you can mange

Clare's eyes instantly liked the pretty Vlaski women more. Her eyes couldn't look away from them. The war prevented her from really seeing inside her enemies world. She had no idea they could look so divine. She flinched a little at the Vodka, thinking it was the drugged one Jed used until she realized that one was wine. She should be fine. She grabbed a cup, but didn't drink from it as she turned to Finch.

"Not really..." She muttered and slowly raised the glass to her lips. "But, I'll be fine if I focus." She took a gulp and tried to ignore the taste. She glanced at him slightly.
 
"Don't worry. I'm here." Finch said, following suit and taking a drink for himself.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" A servant announced in heavily-accented Mercian. "His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince of Mercia, and our treasure, Madame Albescu!"

The Prince and his mistress entered arm in arm. She was dressed in the same old-fashioned gown as the other ladies, her gleaming auburn hair surmounted by a pearl-encrusted headdress. They were attended by a servant in the livery of a Mercian palace steward, walking respectfully behind.

- Observe the body language of the Prince for some information.
- Observe the Ambassador to see his reaction.
- Observe the steward.
 
-Observe the body language of the Prince for some information

Clare paused her drinking to look immediately at the stairwell. She tried to look happy and clap for them, but her eyes just scanned them. Most importantly, the prince.
 
The Prince looked admiringly at the lovely woman on his arm. It was hard to tell from Clare's angle, but it looked like the gaze Madame returned to him was cooler.

The Prince and Madame took their positions in the center of the dance floor, the Ambassador and his wife joined them, the musicians struck up a tune Clare did not recognize and the ball was considered opened.

Clare noticed that the two lead couples, and all the others who joined them, danced in a medieval manner, rather than in the modern style. But then, very little else would be possible given the women's stiff and voluminous skirts. Some of the Mercian couples joined them and tried to mimic the movements, others just watched.

The next song was an unquestionable waltz and though the Vlaskesari still danced in a medieval style, the Mercians flooded to the floor and danced the steps they knew.

It was time for Clare to get to work. And she had a couple of options available to her.

- Linger around the Prince to get his attention and a dance.
- Approach the Ambassador, he would certainly ask her for a dance.
- Urge Finch to approach Madame Albescu for a dance.
- Wander to the edge of the room, hoping to overhear something.
- Slip away through the corridors, hoping to overhear the servants.
 
-Urge Finch to approach Madame Albescu for a dance

Clare knew something was up, she couldn't pinpoint it until now. She watched as couples started to dance and tried to submerge the urge to dance with Finch. That was her teenage self talking. She looked at Madame and the Prince dancing, she reached over and tugged on Finch's sleeve. "You should talk to Madame, try to poke her a little. I'll see if I can talk to the Prince while your doing it." She got over being jealous slightly. As long as they didn't get too close.
 
"I was about to suggest the same thing." Finch nodded coolly and walked through the ballroom with determination.

Soon enough, Clare heard the Madame's voice. "Mr Hawthorne! You accepted my invitation. How marvelous. Yes, of course I would like to dance."

And the two of them were enveloped in a dance. Clare couldn't help but notice how Madam leaned toward Finch with a smile on her face and a tilt of her head.

In the meantime she had a Prince to address. As she made her way toward His Highness he turned slightly toward her, seeing her approach. The look on his face portrayed plainly that he was slightly confused with her approach as he did not know her. However he did offer her a nod and a slight smile. He seemed to be approachable enough.

- Strike up a conversation with him about Madame.
- Introduce yourself and talk about business opportunities in Vlask.
- Introduce yourself and talk about Vlaski music.
- Introduce yourself and talk about Mercia.
 
-Introducs yourself and talk about Mercia

She approached him and was already suprised by him. He was taller than her and she stared at his eyes, could she see bags under his eyes? She didn't try to display anything as she started to dance and commence small talk. She introduced herself under her fake identity and tried to talk about how lovely Merica is.
 
"Lovely? Well, yes, I would agree. Our Kingdom is lovely, however far behind in some areas. I hope to improve on it." The Prince said, taking up her small talk.

From the corner of her eye she could see Finch and Madame Albescu make their way through the crowd, disappearing from sight. The Prince kept her occupied however, talking about his Kingdom and the rule of his mother, whom he respected, yet though too narrowminded. Things would change when he came to the throne, he said, leaving Clare to wonder if it would be for better or worse.

After a time, the musicians begun the tune for some kind of raucous folk dance that involves loud clapping and elbows and knees thrown every which way. All the Vlaskesari danced to it, but the only Mercian to attempt it was the Prince. Though, he dragged Clare along, since she was near.

It was somewhat disconcerting how very well he executed the feat. If it were not for his unmistakably Mercian clothing, one might almost be unable to distinguish him from the others on the dance floor. Clare struggled to keep up, stumbling a couple of times with the unfamiliar dance, finishing it out of breath.

"You can keep up!" The Prince smiled to Clare, barely even flushed. "Something quieter!" He called over his shoulder to the Ambassador, half command and half request.

The musicians begun a light melody that seemed to float on air - perfect music for waltzing. Relieved Mercian couples took the floor again.

"May I have this dance?" The Prince leaned toward Clare slightly, one hand extended forward.

- Accept.
- Refuse.
 
-Accept

The talk unsettled her slightly. He keeps on comparing. Mercia should stand on its own. She kept thinking despite what came out of her mouth. She paused a little, about to ask a noteworthy question when the music picked up and she couldn't see Finch. Panic filtered through her body as she tried to dance and not worry about Finch. They barely knew anything about the Madame besides she's an manipulator. She already dislikes Finch's character.

This explains why she was more tired than normal from dancing. Although, she knew she needed to keep it up. Despite her worrying, she needed to make sure she did her job. Which is why she accepts his offer to dance and commenced small talk again.
 
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