Humanity had long stumbled through the night at the mercy of the howling beasts that were MerGN-A and her Emergent. The brave knights who led the evacuation of Callisto Station had witnessed exactly how bleak that night could be. Yet, by their heroism, they had snatched hope from the bloody jaws of suffering and death. If the rise of John Arthur and his court at Avaluna had been a torch in the darkness, then perhaps, just perhaps, they had uncovered the seeds of a new dawn...

In the days since the Passelande and its accompanying warhost had returned to Avaluna, the court had been on edge. Not only were they hard pressed to treat the many wounded, but the influx of nearly twenty thousand refugees strained the settlement to near-breaking. While Avaluna was a veritable paradise compared to most of the solar system, even it was not without its limits.

Yet it wasn't just the refugees that were a matter of concern. The nature of the attack on Callisto Station had raised some uncomfortable questions. During the attack, Sir Brun discovered that the station's systems had been sabotaged and all evidence pointed to House Hyle, a long-time enemy of House Gehenmis. Further the attack suggested a level of collusion between human and MerGN-A's Emergent--a frightening prospect if it proved to be true. Avaluna was on high alert around the clock. In the event of another attack like the one on Callisto, they would be ready.

Only a select few knew what had been discovered during the chaos of the attack on Callisto. MerLN, Guardian and Protector of the Wyrmgates, and John Arthur's closest advisor, believed they were now in possession of information which might lead to the legendary G.R.A.I.L--the lost secret with which humanity had once terraformed the solar system in the days before the Emergent threat. Both he and Sir Brun had turned their full attention to solving the mystery of the coordinates. Day after day poured into the problem only brought frustration, despite the keen intelligence of both present. The young Lady Irina, herself a formidable intellect, was also at a loss.

---

They called her The Fury. They spoke it with love and reverence. They whispered it in the halls of her carrier, for they had nowhere else to go. They filled the passages and gantry ways, huddled together. They bowed their heads in deference and gratitude as he passed. She was the Princess of the People, and her ferocity in their defense had been unbridled.

During the attack on Callisto, Meara had sallied forth, brave and bold, in a savage attack against the Emergent forces. She became a whirlwind of destruction causing enough disarray within the Emergent lines to allow time for Sir Brun to coordinate an evacuation effort. Every ship still space worthy, the carrier she shared with Freyr included, had been used to evacuate as many civilians as possible from the doomed station. Damaged heavily in the opening volley, the carrier had been filled to capacity with as many people as it could hold. Brunhildr & Grazyna temporarily resided elsewhere, their armor berths given over to the support of the refugees. Here and there technicians sectioned off areas while they conducted repairs, trying to get the carrier battle-ready once more. The carrier wasn't the only machine in need of repair. Brunhildr had been pushed to the limit. She was in need of a complete overhaul as she had sustained redline combat performance long passed the limits of her design.

Meara, too, had been pushed to her limit. The days following the attack had forced her to confront the pain and death that she had seen. It seemed everywhere she turned, there was only another example to face.

There had, of course, been moments of brightness as well. After days of searching and uncomfortable questions from the little girl, Mimi's parents had, at last, been located among the refugees. Their tearful reunion brought to Meara's mind the words John Arthur had spoken to her in the mess hall of the Passelande in the aftermath of the attack on Callisto. There would be days to smile again. There would be those who were able to smile because of her sacrifice. Yes, the King had reminded her of that. At least, that's what she had taken from the conversation. It had been hard to concentrate at the time, she recalled thinking, because John  Arthur had been so cute. Her Aunt was very lucky.

Uh-oh.

Valerie La Guin, Queen of Avaluna, Regent of Venus, Fourth of Her Name, and the elder sister of Meara's mother had invited her to lunch today. A lunch which was scheduled to start five minutes ago. If Freyr wasn't so dignified she would be foaming at the mouth at this very moment. Wait, where was Freyr? She hadn't been around all morning which was extremely unusual. In fact, Meara couldn't recall it happening before. Seriously, where was Freyr?

---

Sir Brun, exhausted from his efforts leading the evacuation, had found rest in the aftermath of Callisto, but sleep had been a rare treat his first days upon Avaluna. Between collaboration with MerLN on the mysterious data Gwydion had recovered, introductions to the court, and work to restore Euryleia, there had been little time for anything else.

The King, true to his word, had given Brun a dedicated armour bay and every tool he could imagine was at his disposal for Euryleia's repair. There was even a team of technicians to assist him, if he so chose. The repair of Euryleia would be no easy task. Nearly every system she had was burned out. Only her neurocore had survived intact and even it had received considerable strain. Perhaps this wasn't so much a repair as it was a full rebuild. But Brun had the necessary facilities and components. This was a chance to make Euryleia as powerful as she deserved to be. To cut no corners. To make her into her very best self. Brun and his lady would fight together once more and they would be stronger than they had ever been.

If the survivors of Callisto Station considered Meara their avenging angel, then they saw Brun as their savior. They often left gifts and small tokens (a broken chrono which had once been of a very fine make, a child's dolly--it's dress and hair partially burned away, ration bars passed out to the refugees) outside of the armour bay where Euryleia was undergoing reconstruction, But mostly they left candles. They had made an altar, devoted both to the lost and to their deliverance. Many, having no where else to go, held vigil there. They had found chroma-tubes and painted a mural upon the wall above the altar. They had painted what they had seen from the view ports of their transports as the huddled among darkness and fear. Ten thousand twinkling lights--flares and blaster fire--made a wall of light, a wall defended by valiant knights against an oncoming tide of darkness. Euryleia was at the center, her twin disruption foils crossed to ward away the monstrous onslaught.

It wasn't just the survivors of Callisto with whom Brun had proven popular. Many of his fellow Knights of Avaluna were eager to meet the man whose leadership had turned what should have been a certain massacre into heroic triumph. It was an ideal to which many of the knights aspired. A victory worthy of John Arthur himself. Those of non-noble lineage idealized him as well. A mysterious knight, self-made on the Edge, had risen to become one of Arthur's chosen knights. It was a tale that resonated with many. It was why the turnout for his Oath ceremony was expected to be quite high. Though Sir Brun was already a part of the court of Avaluna in all but name, this would officially mark the swearing of his fealty to John Arthur and his sacred pledge to uphold the ideals of the Knights of the Round Table.

Brun had long ago renounced House Kotta. Nor was he still an Edge Knight doing what was necessary to survive. Now, with Arthur's blessing, he would have a House of his own. A House of Two, just he and his lady Euryleia--once she was feeling herself again. He would need to select a name and a coat of arms for this new house. What would he select?

---

Avaluna Base looked like an island paradise afloat in a shimmering silver sea. Earth's Azure Wyrmgate hung in the void between Humanity's cradle and it's tidally locked satellite which was the home of King Arthur's court. From here, they kept a vigil against the return of the Emergent.

"Gwydion, my boy," John Arthur addressed his nephew as he often did. The King looked as though he hadn't slept in days. That was probably close to the truth. He had given the rescue and recovery effort his full attention. Now that the Warhost had arrived back at Avaluna, he had ensured the full resources of Avaluna were to be made available to aid the refugees. "The people of Baron Gehenmis's realm have lost everything and it is our duty to help them. We've got nearly twenty thousand more mouths to feed. But not just that. We need to house them, help them heal, give them new vocations and a new purpose. Make Avaluna a home for them. It won't be easy." He let the weight of that sink in. "I'm making it your responsibility," he said at last. "You won't be doing it alone. You'll have all the help that we can muster, but it is your duty to see it done. I know you will make me proud, as is your habit." He ruffled the young knight's hair as he had since Gwydion was a small boy.

The task proved itself formidable. For every issue Gwydion solved, another pair seemed to arise. But he was making progress. Housing was being found or new construction started, and though they had to dip into their stockpile, mouths were being fed, even if much of it was dry rations for the moment.

When his duties allowed he visited Lady Iliza. She was still recovering from her wounds. She was out of bed now, but still healing, though it was apparent to Gwydion that she was beginning to chaff under the physicians orders of only light activity. Then came the day Gwydion had been dreading. She had somehow managed to get a datapad with the casualty estimations from her home. According to best estimates, 7,614 lives had perished in the attack on Callisto Station. Close to one-third of the population. Iliza had spent the afternoon weeping in Gwydion's arms.

The next day Iliza asked him to take her for a walk. She needed to lean heavily upon Gwydion as she had yet to fully regain her strength. They strolled through the gardens that Gwydion had told her about on the night they had met. It seemed a lifetime ago, though it had only been a little more than a week. They stared up at the Earth in the sky, when suddenly a shadow briefly passed over them. It was only a small shuttle, likely heading to one of the outlying districts. Iliza began to tremble and shake. She would have fallen if not for Gwydion, but he held her steady. She began to panic and looked up at him as tears streamed from her eyes, "Gwydion...oh Gwydion...No...no...no, no, no, no." She was nearly hyperventilating. Her fingers gripped the fabric of his clothing so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She couldn't seem to catch her breath. Afterwards, the doctors recommended that she rest. When Gwydion called on her the next day, a handmaiden politely begged his forgiveness, because the Lady Iliza wasn't receiving visitors. He heard the same thing the day after that. And the day after that.

Gwydion focused on his duties, training and overseeing the refugee program. What difficulties arise?
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:52, Sat 08 July 2023.

After the events aboard the station, part of Gwydion's own recovery had been to spend some time in a hyperbaric chamber to slow and ease the oncoming effects of decompression sickness. Every single medical professional who treated him had admonished him for even considering subjecting himself to hard vacuum at all, let alone without his flight suit. Naturally, the young prince quietly apologized to them and accepted their concern. If word didn't reach them that he did it for a girl, that would be just fine with him.

Even with treatment, he still wasn't allowed back in his Longsword for several days, as his body readjusted. At first he had complained, but when the joint pain kicked in, the doctors found him much more reasonable. With all he had to do, he'd simply taken to a few gentle painkillers to dull the aches when they gave him trouble. Just because he couldn't get back into his Armour, he clearly wasn't off the hook for getting things done.

Between handling the refugee crisis and ensuring Meara was doing alright mentally and Brun was doing alright socially, Gwydion spent as much time as he could with Iliza. She had a peaceful effect on him, like the well of human misery he had to manage was made of hope instead of hurt. He got to be happy for a while, and those thoughts could linger all day if he let them. Seeing her so suddenly overwhelmed and then cut completely off was absolutely crushing, but he wasn't one to give up. Each day he was told that she wasn't taking visitors, he thanked the handmaiden and handed her a white flower to deliver to Iliza, and then he'd come again the next day. Gwydion understood what had happened. He intended to be there for her whenever she was ready to see him again, or rather whenever she was ready to be seen.

In the meantime, he had to continue his duties to the dislocated people of Callisto Station. With more space dedicated to farming, Avaluna would eventually be capable of feeding these people, though that was still months, perhaps years away. In the meantime he needed to determine effective rationing to let their current food supply last, and negotiate extra imports of staple foods like flour and beans from what allies they had. And while the new farms provided employment for a great deal of people, it was only a drop in the bucket compared to how many were left in need.

Constructing and repurposing housing provided another good chunk of work, and people could watch as their future was literally being constructed before their very eyes, so that would also provide a sense of hope that was desperately needed in such times. Gwydion also encouraged the expansion of business areas, street markets, as well as bed-and-breakfasts and even simple entertainment venues. This would provide more people with things to do, engage them in commerce and a sense of normalcy that much sooner. It wasn't just their physical needs that had to be attended to, but their spirits as well. Allowing folks to sit around long enough for depression to sink in would tear them apart rather than letting them come together. It would promote petty crime for survival instead of cooperation and unity. He needed to stave that off as long as possible.

He also needed to schedule time to simply walk among them. Being there, with those who had lost everything but their lives, letting them see him and talk to him, listening to their stories and their needs, was vital. They needed to know he was there for them, not just another Petty Titan giving orders from a gilded throne without a care for how it affected actual lives. They needed to see his face, and it needed to have an empathetic smile, something that could give them hope. That was the key. Hope was everything for them, even if they didn't understand it just yet.

Meara had been doing her best to cope with the reality they had faced, and she was reminded of it every time she heard someone mention what - or, in many cases, who - had been lost.  Freyr wouldn't let her stay cooped up in a room all day moping, so she had to walk among the people.  At first, she felt upset, and yes, a little bit frightened, when she heard what she had been dubbed by the people they saved.  It reminded her of the brutal realities of war against the Emergent.  She could deal with battling other people - they understood the concept of innocents and combatants, and also understood the concept of surrender.  The Emergent... the stories did not do their horrific acts justice, and being reminded of them reminded her not just what they did, but how many times she could have died back there.

She did thank Freyr several times for the years of combat drills she was forced to endure, because while she's no warmonger, she very much understood those drills are what kept her alive and let her help save as many people as they did.

It was the fact that in what could have - and should have - been a complete slaughter, she and the other knights saved so many people, that brought her around from being afraid of the moniker to embracing it.  She could not save everyone.  She would never stop trying, of course, but she understood that now.  Those she cannot save, however, she will avenge.  But first, she had to get a proper grip on herself and her tendency to see red in battle.

That very problem was what was on her mind right before it started wandering towards that unfairly cute king and his advice, which then chained to her aunt being super lucky, which then immediately became dreaded panic as she realized she was late for lunch.  Freyr was going to kill her!

Wait, where is she?!  Am I even dressed for lunch with Aunt Val?!

Meara closed her eyes, slapped her cheeks, and then looked very determined.  I'm not late to lunch!  Aunt Val just didn't notice I was already there!  Yeah!  That's the ticket!

With that in mind, she slipped on shoes, burst from her room, and did her very best impression of a ninja as she ran, jumped, flipped, somersaulted, cartwheeled, and scampered in places that weren't designed for people to scamper in order to rapidly make it to the lunch meeting and pop out of a ceiling vent behind Queen Valerie.

Yes, this was the perfect plan and nothing bad could come of it, and she definitely didn't have any lint in her hair from crawling in the vents.

At least she was wearing her usual noble-but-ready-to-pilot outfit and not a nice dress.

23:11, Today: Meara rolled 0 using 4 Fudge dice with rolls of 0, 1, -1, 0.  Zeal +5 with Cat's Grace.
I was here all along!
This message was last edited by the player at 06:23, Tue 11 July 2023.

Meara dropped in just as they were about to begin and slipped around the back without notice. The poor seneschal nearly bumped into her as he turned to leave. He was clearly startled. He looked toward the closed door, back to Meara with some confusion, and then bowed his head in apology, "Forgive me, your Grace."

At last, the Queen turned to regard her guests. Valerie La Guin was the very embodiment of poise, elegance, and martial prowess. She was tip to toe a Warrior Queen. She wore her station naturally. John Arthur had donned the mantle of royalty for the good of humanity, but Valerie La Guin had been born to it. Her every movement precise, her comportment unimpeachable.

The Queen looked over her guests and when her gaze fell to Meara, the feisty young princess could feel her scrutiny. The Queen seemed to take in her appearance with exacting measure. When her gaze reached Meara's hair she raised an eyebrow, almost imperceptibly. Had she noticed?

"Please, ladies, be seated," the Queen entreated. Meara found her placeholder which read "Meara La Guin, Heiress of Chonaill." She was to be seated right next to the Queen. A place of honor, Freyr once told her. The food served was modest by the standards of Venusian Nobility. That tended to be the way of things here on Avaluna. All shared equally. There were those who saw this as a blessing, and those who viewed it only with derision and contempt.

"I am given to understand that you acquitted yourself proudly upon the field of battle, Meara," Queen Valerie said at last. "Seventeen confirmed Emergent kills. That is quite impressive."

OOC: Would you like a Compel on (Un)Fortunate Reputation for Meara to make a scene of some kind? Maybe her conversation gets out of hand? Up to you what happens, just have fun with it. We'll deal with the entrance compel later as per your suggestion.

---

As he intended, Gwydion made time to walk among the refugees and hear their concerns and troubles. John Arthur even joined him now and again when he could. Managing the refugees situation seemed a monumental task. How much more difficult was managing a kingdom?

Gwydion made steady, if slow progress, on the herculean task before him. He had a solution for keeping the refugee population engaged and invested in their future. He asked all those able to do so to volunteer to work for the relief effort. As Gwydion had hoped this gave many a place to focus their energy and they began to forge new bonds and build toward a new future. But there was one area where he didn't seem to be making progress.

"Can't you just yell? Demand to see her," Irina asked as Gwydion was turned away during his attempt to visit Iliza on the eleventh day. She was dressed as a technician. She had volunteered for the work crews assigned to new construction. "You are like her that way, so well mannered. Couldn't you throw a tantrum, just this once? Cause a row? Please...she needs someone. She's not herself. She won't talk to anyone, not even the physicians. She's not sleeping despite the medications. She just sits there...empty. Iliza was always so perfect. She did everything right. I hated it. Sometimes, I even hated her. But now..." Irina paused for a moment before she continued."We all know how many of us you're helping. Everyone is grateful. But can't you forget about all of that for a day? Can't you just be selfish? Just forget about helping everyone. Help her instead. Just her." Irina didn't wait for Gwydion to answer, perhaps afraid of what he'd say. Her plea hung in the air as she left for her shift.

OOC: How about a Compel on Louder Than Words to have Gwydion try to engage Iliza is some capacity rather than just be turned away once more?

Despite her many flaws when seen from the perspective of noble society, Meara at least had excellent table manners and dining etiquette.  As such, she did not make much of a scene upon entering and being seated.  She also knew not to pick up her silverware until everyone was served and the host (in this case the Queen) gave the subtle signal to start eating and drinking.  Which, despite how she did so among the people, she did according to noble standards.

Freyr had made sure of this.

Meara did, however, always have trouble with proper noble speak, but she really did not want to make a fool of Queen Valerie.  She liked Auntie Val.  So, she did her best to speak and reply properly.

"I could not have done it without the others.  Sir L1-4MNT, Sir RHY-S32, and Lady Freyr watched my back so I could harry the Emergent to let the transports escape."

Yep.  Definitely lint in her hair, and it could stand to be brushed again.  Where was Freyr?

---

"Please tell me she was not late.  Please." Freyr pleads with the seneschal as she catches her breath.  Much like Meara, her hair is mussed from some sort of physical activity, but otherwise she has this glow about her.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:24, Wed 12 July 2023.

It hurt, not being able to see Iliza, to reassure her that things were going to be alright. Keeping busy with his work, and even taking the time to visit with Uncle John hadn't really helped him feel less lonely. Or less worried. As Irina walked away, the prince watched, forlorn, before turning to look at the door one more time.

A city was much different from a space station or starship. The open air, sun in the sky... a sky. It was a very different and more free experience. You weren't huddled into a small space with only utilitarian doors and glowing terminals to interact with. You could have windows in a place like Avaluna. Sunlight. And A boyfriend sneaking in through those windows.

Gwydion's steps were rapid after Irina had left, taking him around the building and in search of a more direct means into Iliza's room. Stealth was never something he was adept at, so rather than darting between shadows and moving quiet as a mouse, he strode with confidence and determination like he owned the place. Which was sort of true, his uncle owned it and he was put in charge of the place's safety and security. Technically any guards he came across couldn't stop him. He just hoped no one else tried, because then he'd have to explain himself.

[I am absolutely ready to take that Compel. We're bustin' in!

11:56, Today: Gwydion rolled 1 using 4 Fudge dice with rolls of 1, 0, -1, 1.  Skulking +0.
Total: 1]
This message was last edited by the player at 18:57, Wed 12 July 2023.

Brun was quite overwhelmed.

It was....so much...  The G.R.A.I.L puzzle...  The sudden uplifting of his status and the attendant social obligations...  He was to decide upon his own name.  A NAME again.  The outpouring of quiet thanks from survivors; the mural, the offerings...

All of it pulling at his attention and energy, forcing him to prioritize.  To be kind.  To insult no one.  To be seen as kind and humble and patient and grateful.  As he had been trained (WELL-trained) to be as a Venusian prince so long ago.

And he was grateful.  Really.

But his Lady needed him.  Without her, the rest meant nothing.

The dedicated Armour Bay was a marvel.  Tools and resources that he could never have hoped for were at his fingertips.  The technicians were...fine.  It was fine, for Euryleia's health he would suffer them.  They were good.... efficient... skilled...  But they did not /know/ her.  They did not understand her and her design as Brun did.  But with their help and the forges of Avaluna, Brun would make sure that everyone could see his Lady as he always had.  No more would she be the Ill-Made Armor.

Euryleia, the Lady Reforged.
____________________

"Sir Brun, have you reviewed the new lists?  The names?"  Herald Godwin was growing impatient.  He had leapt at the opportunity when it was offered to guid the Edge Knight into his proper recognition.  To lay the foundation of a new house.  A new /banner/.  A herald did not get such opportunity very often.  Ever.  It had never happened to him.

But this Knight, Sir Brun, did not seem to understand the /gravity/ of these decisions.  Always distracted.  Half asleep on his feet. Godwin had, at first, felt the the Edge Knight was lazy or stupid.  But the facts of his deeds at Callisto showed that false.  As did the fact that he never really seemed to stop doing.  But, Herald Godwin had a job to do and he must try.

"I also have new sketches of possibilities for the coat of arms.  Your banner?"

"Sorry," muttered Brun without truly knowing why.  He was reviewing a dataslate from the technicians regarding the overhaul of the defense matrix.  They simply did not believe that it could operate as Brun insisted that it did.  It was yet another struggle to explain his own "artistic" methods to their university trained knowledge.

He looked up at Gutman... No...Goodman... Goodone... Herald, "Yes.  Lists.  I...did look.  And others sent suggestions.  So very many."  He paused, to steel himself, "And I am...grateful..."  His eyes hurt to think about the lists.  He rubbed them and tried to remember...  There was something that had stood out...  Brun cast his eye around the armoury as though the name were written on the floor...  No.  Wall.  On the wall.

Brun looked up to the mural.  His breath caught.  It always did.  The wall of twinkling stars, flares...blaster fire...  It was not beautiful to have been in it.  But somehow, the artist had rendered it so wondrously.  And Euryleia at the center.  This artist saw the Lady as Brun did.  Really /saw/ her.  He understood.

Wall...

"Stjernevold," announced Brun, turning back to the Herald, "Old...old Danish, I think.   Would that do?"

Herald Godwin mouthed the word slowly...as though tasting the syllables.  Considering the edges.  He wrote it down, "I will look into it..."

Brun continued right over the Herald, "And find the artist...  or artists....  You should work with them to design the banner.  The arms.  Please."

Herald Godwin's nose scrunched up a little at the thought of asking anyone outside the College of Heralds to assist in designing anything.  But he too looked up at the mural.  It was...very good...  Oh well, "As you wish, Sir Brun."

Brun was already off again, reading the slate.  He paused at the makeshift altar below the mural.  He carefully and efficiently tidied everything up, though it didn't need much.  He made sure all the candles were lit, replacing them as needed with a stock he kept nearby.  It was the least he could do.
_______________

Later, Brun was going through pieces being tagged for replacement from the Lady's armor plating.  A piece caught his eye.  He ran his hand over it.  This piece he knew very well.  From Sigrid's Armour...  In his mind he saw again the fight that took his sisters...  That led him into captivity...  The captivity that lead to desperate survival.  All means justified on the Edge.  His own hand gripping cutlass and blaster as the cutters burned their way into the hull of a prize....

He had not always been a knight.  He has once been a frightened prince clawing his way to any sort of safety.  Even the safety of joining the captors...

The Pirate Brun in his mind's eye turned to regard Sir Brun coldly, "Liar. Tell them /who we are/."  The pirate's cutlass raised and slashed down....

Brun woke with a start from where he had fallen asleep at the worktable.  Panic gripped him.  He /was/ lying....  He had to confess.  Arthur needed to know.  He needed to know why he could not accept any oath from him...

"Yes, Lady Freyr. She was here on time. Quiet as a mouse too. It was so unusual, I nearly overlooked her myself, " the seneschal reassured Freyr. "Shall I announce you, Lady?"

---

Queen Valerie nodded slightly in response and Meara could tell she approved of her response. "It is good of you to recognize that. No one can stand alone against the Emergent. No knight and no kingdom. The King had the wisdom to see that. Now, Venus, Earth, and Mars are united under the banner of Avaluna and we are better for it."

---

Herald Godwin appeared again, as he often did, during a crucial step in the repair of Euryleia.

He cleared his throat softly, "Sir Brun, may I present to you Madame Liwynne, chief artist of the mural." The woman was in her fifties most likely, her gray hair tied back under an old scarf. Before her she held out to him a design carefully drawn on the back of a placard used to mark cargo pallets. "I was only a baker, Sir," the clearly nervous woman offered by way of explanation.

The Design itself was Per pale argent and sable, five mullet or chief to base. The central star had been modified. It was larger and though it still had five points, the points were created by a crossed depiction of Euryleia's Disruption Foils.

"Have you given more thought to your House words, my lord?"

---

"Sir Brun, I hope it's alright if we walk and speak at the same time? I've been in council meetings the entire morning and I feel a need to stretch my legs. My wife managed to escape because she is hosting a lunch for several important figures from Venus today, so it was left to me to preside over the councils which are normally her purview in addition to my own," Arthur was indeed walking and talking at the same time. Briskly, in fact. Brun nearly had to jog to keep up with him. "MerLN tells me you're no closer to a solution on your project. Keep at it. I am certain you will figure it out. But that's not what you have come to speak about is it? Speak your mind, Sir."

---

Gwydion spotted a window left open wide enough for him to slip inside. It wasn't seemly by any stretch of the imagination to sneak into a lady's window, but well...

The air inside was stale. He didn't have to guess why someone had left a window open. There was a vase near the window that held all the flowers he had brought, though some had begun to wither away.

Iliza was curled up into a chair in the corner. Gwydion almost didn't recognize the young woman that he saw. She seemed sunken somehow. Her skin pale with heavy bags beneath her eyes. She stared towards the far wall, but her gaze seemed unfocused, vacant. She was a far cry from the warm, witty, and charming young woman of whom he had become so fond.

Iliza continued to sit perfectly still. She didn't even seem to notice he'd entered.

The questionable act of breaking and entering (though he didn't break anything!) didn't escape Gwydion, but his concern for the lady's well-being overrode any future issues that might crop up. When he saw Iliza's condition, his resolve crystallized. This was definitely not right.

He took a few steps toward her, still a few steps away when he stopped to call her name. His presence was likely startling, and he didn't want to cause further harm.

"Iliza?" It wasn't much, but Gwydion wasn't sure how intense her reaction would be just yet.

"Please do.  I needs must apologize for my lateness," Freyr replied to the senechal with a polite bow of her head, then looked confused.

"You said she had been here, but had remained quiet?  Hmm..."  Already the wheels in her head were turning, and she idly glanced upwards before letting out a sigh.  The vent grating was hanging loosely.  At least Meara had not made a fool of herself.

---

The praise from Auntie Val made Meara feel all warm and fuzzy inside.  Or maybe that was the wine?  No, definitely the praise.  Clearly, she was acing this luncheon, and nothing could possibly go wrong.  Especially not the fact that if it was not for Auntie Val, Meara would be bored out of her mind and start imagining everyone with silly hats and moustaches.

Or think about how cute King Arthur is.  Or Sir Brun's butt.  Or Prince Gwydion's smile.  Or Irina's eyes when she talks about engineering.

Wait.

Wait.

Huh.

Yeah, her eyes are really pretty when she talks about engineering!

At the very...very familiar sound of the herald clearing his throat, Brun was surprised at how quickly he hated the man.  And at the depth and severity of that hatred.  Perhaps it was his nightmare riddled sleep.  Perhaps it was the fear and anxiety of waiting for his audience with the king to discuss his sordid, violent, shameful outlaw past... Or....

"Sir Brun, may I present to you Madame Liwynne, chief artist of the mural."

Brun's head came up in surprise quickly, which was not the best given the tight situation he was in checking the myo-fiber links in Euryleia's left thigh.  The heavy, resounding clank let everyone get a clear idea of just how not the best it was.  He slithered out ungracefully onto the scaffolding.  Eventually, he made it to the ground, rubbing the back of his head, "Madame Liwynne...  It is...so...nice to finally meet you..."  He accepted the placard, stopped rambling and looked it over.  The heraldry...  For the House.  The House he did not deserve.  The House that no one would ever hear of as he would soon be placed in irons or banished or dead.

Tired as he is, likely all of these conflicting emotions flow across his features unfiltered by his usual courtly skill.  Liwynne would watch as Sir Brun, Savior of Callisto, looked on her artwork with utter despair.  Brun caught himself too late, trying to cover it up with a wan smile, "It's perfect..."  Need to do better than that.  He straightened, brightened the smile, "No, I'm sorry.  I'm...very tired...  and...  It's perfect and you, dear lady, are not /only/ a baker."  He tried for eye contact, to broadcast sincerity, "Thank you."

________________________________

Brun followed after the king, jogging to keep up.  He had been going over exactly what he was going to say when he had this opportunity.  How much detail to offer.  How best to frame it.  To shape the words.  To explain his sins with sincerity and integrity.  To stand up to his past and the consequences he rightfully deserved.

But here, now, finally in the moment that he had been dreading, Brun simply blurted, "I was a pirate."  All his preparations crumbled away.  None of it really mattered.  There was no way to say any of this to make any of it better.  He couldn't even look up at the king as he spoke.  Some knight.  He started again, not wanting to wait for the king to say anything, "I was a pirate, your majesty.  I committed crimes as a member of a pirate crew on the Edge.  I should...  I should have told you immediately and I am sorry.  Everything happened so fast...  But, I should have."  He tried to straighten himself up, "I am not worthy of the laurels that have been given me and cannot, with honor, give my oath.  Or take a place at your Table."

The door opened quietly and the seneschal stood to one side announcing, "Lady Freyr Aegisdottir."

Freyr entered. She smoothly approached the table in front of Queen Valerie and executed a textbook curtsy. "Your Majesty, please forgive my tardiness. I was delayed by an urgent matter."

"Think nothing of it Lady Freyr," the Queen said with the barest hint of a wry smile on her face. "The King and I are well accustomed to urgency."

"My niece has been doing credit both to herself and you, Lady. Please, join us." She motioned to the open seat on the other side of Meara.

OOC: Left it open to give you the chance to steer the scene a bit, since your scene is pretty easy to hone in on the plot point, whereas the other two might take a few more exchanges to resolve properly.

---

Madame Liwynne wept.

Though Brun's courtly manners may have suffered due to his exhaustion, his intuition was still keen. He hadn't offended the artist. Rather, she was crying tears of Joy. She kept curtsying in front of him and repeating, "Thank you, sir."

---
 "And?" The King asked as he came to a stop and turned to face Brun. "Do you know how many knights of this court are former brigands and pirates? Quite a few, I can tell you that. Does that surprise you, sir?"

"Every human being has done things in the past that they regret. Every single one of us. Some much worse than others, granted. And for different reasons...but... " John Arthur placed a hand upon Brun's shoulder. "You feel guilt, shame, for what you've done. Good. That is seemly for a moral man who has acted against his nature. Brun, you know I hold the knights of this court to the highest standard. I tolerate no abhorrent behavior. If I did not think you deserved a seat among the Knights of the Round, I would not have offered it. You, and those you led, saved eighteen thousand souls in the face of annihilation. I've met plenty of pirates in my day, and I can't count a single one who wouldn't have saved their own skin instead.

Perhaps your worry is that you think I am rewarding the behavior of a blackguard? Handing you absolution for your crimes? Far from it. What I am handing you is a life sentence. Compassion, Equality, Valor. These are our watchwords. From the time you take the Oath until your dying breath, these are your burden. There is no rest. No respite. From now until the end of your days will you labor in service to the people of this realm. The sentence will not be commuted. There will be no parole."

John Arthur gave Brun the smile of a patient father, "Think on it, Sir Brun. If you choose to repair your armour and flee, so be it. But, I think we will next see each other at the Ceremony."

The King gave Brun one last pat on the shoulder then continued his walk.

OOC: Brun, can you give me a Smithy roll to see how well Euryleia's repairs are progressing?

---

"Gwydion... " Iliza said, drawing into herself as much as she could. Her voice was soft and hoarse. "P-p-please...leave..."

OOC: Sorry it's so brief, but I feel like Iliza would be super reactive right now. Once you respond and I see Gwydion 's approach I will make another reply for you to give you something of actual substance.

She could speak, at least. Gwydion's concern grew as her voice projected poorly, and he took slow, careful steps toward her.

"My apologies, my lady, but my duty to you demands I stay. You are hurting. It wouldn't be gentlemanly of me to abandon you at a time like this. Please, I want to help you in any way I can, but being shut out from you leaves me helpless. Can you tell me what's happening?"

What does it matter...? What does it even matter? Iliza managed to ask. She lowered her head, so that her hair fell over her face.

A few moments later, she began to speak. Her voice was raw and Gwydion had to strain to understand her.

"I felt a connection with you. I knew after only a few minutes in your company that, like me, you understood the responsibility of your position. You weren't like the other noble sons I had been forced to entertain--entitled, obsessed only with vainglory and self satisfaction. Rather, you were every bit the prince from children's bedtime stories. Those short few days were like a dream...

Then it happened. Darkness. Then the fire and the screaming. But I couldn't be scared. My mother wounded, my father missing, Derrol dead. I wanted to help as many as I could. So many died and so many sacrificed themselves so that others could live. Then came my turn...

There were so many Emergent in the station. It was coming apart. The Emergent were maiming and cutting down any they could...even children... I knew that the last group would never reach the transports unless someone managed to hold the Emergent off. The guards had nearly all fallen...I was one of the few left who could...so I asked you to...to...

Iliza began to have another panic attack. She struggled to press on despite her gasping breaths.

But you...you...came for me. When I saw...you I...I knew I....w-was safe. When...I woke...after...the...surg...ery, I was.... gra...te..ful. To see...my family. To see you. I re...solved... to...heal, so... I could... help... my people. I thought... that...there... could...still...be...hope...

W-w-when...we...walked...in the gardens...I realized...the truth...of it all...

Deep body-wracking anguished sobs overtook Iliza. Painful and inelegant, she shuttered with each cry. Iliza's fit summoned several handmaidens and her mother into the room. They stared in shock and surprise at the prince and in anguish and pity at Iliza. "Prince Gwydion. Perhaps it's best if you--"

Iliza reached out and curled her fingers into the fabric of Gwydion's tunic.

Tear-stricken and gasping she tried to continue on. Her words were choked with tears and somewhat slurred, but she had managed to find her breath again, even if her voice continued to crack. "I have nothing to give you, Gwydion. Nothing. The night after your victory over Sir L1-4MNT, I lay in my bed unable to sleep imaging that, I might one day be your Baroness bride. Your Lady Wife. I could have offered the resources of my home to ally with your uncle's realm. But I have no home now. No barony, no men-at-arms to call upon.

Nor do I deserve them. I thought I did my best, Gwydion. I tried to know the people of my father's barony, to serve them. I thought that was my life's purpose. Yet, seven thousand six hundred and fourteen people died. Gone. Lives...loved ones. While I was busy wearing fancy dresses and daydreaming like a silly little girl. If it had not been for you, Brun, and Meara then everyone would have died. Everyone. I danced and laughed, oblivious to the Emergent that swarmed in the void. To sabotage in our very own halls. And seven thousand people died. Tell me Gwydion, how isn't that my fault? They were my people. I loved them. I failed them. And you should have let me die with them like I deserve. They deserved so much better than me. And so do you. Be grateful Gwydion, seven thousand souls lost to the Emergent so that you can see the truth of me. Does that satisfy your gentlemanly requirement? If so, take your leave and do not return."

Iliza collapsed backward into her chair, exhausted and defeated. She seemed hollowed out by the ordeal with no strength left to muster.

OOC: Wow, so that took on a mind of its own. Poor Iliza has a lot going on. No wonder Irina called in the big guns.

I hope the text reads okay. I just kind of spaced things out with Ellipses rather than writing in *gasp* every time because I thought it made it easier to read.

Gwydion, sorry for the Wall of Text. Last one for a long time. I promise.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:15, Sun 16 July 2023.

Naturally, the prince listened and hung onto every word. The despair in Iliza's weakened voice pulled him ever closer, until he could kneel beside her chair and become closer to her level. He glanced to the others as they entered the room, and then held onto her hand when she reached to clutch his tunic. By that point he was almost in tears himself. Unlike her mother and handmaidens, Gwydion didn't look on her with pity, but with understanding and patience.

This whole time, Iliza had been blaming herself for what happened to the station. He'd never even imagined such a thought might cross her mind. He kept his composure while she explained, and then kept his voice soft in response.

"My dear Iliza. You hold such a heavy burden. Your love for your people and the deep suffering at their plight is ever evident, and shows the depth of your decency and worth. If you truly believe that I deserve better than you, then I am doomed to be alone forever, for there are none.

"There was no warning of the attack, no place to have spotted treachery, and no way to predict it save for the power of prophecy. Nothing you did or didn't do can be to blame for the evil actions of others, and none of your people or mine would ever consider you guilty of what happened. You are a hero, and you saved the lives of so many who would have been lost if not for your bravery. I know it may be hard to believe me right now, but you are not responsible for the loss of Callisto.

"I don't ask for you to offer anything. I have already seen your heart, and it gleams bright and beautiful. My only desire is permission to stay, hold your hand, and admire you."

Iliza shook her head very weakly as she gave Gwydion an incredulous, somewhat bewildered look. Perhaps, she had wanted to argue the point, but she had spent her strength. She had only enough left to trail her free hand gently down the side of the devoted prince's face. Then, for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, Iliza slept.

With a small smile, Gwydion let out a breath and slid his arms under Iliza to lift her up from the chair. His voice was kept low so as not to disturb her as he addressed their audience.

"The lady needs her bed, if I could have some assistance getting her to it. And if it would not be too inappropriate, I'd like to stay nearby for when she awakens."

Brun was at a loss for words.  He had been thinking hard about this meeting, his confession, and had thought his way through many variations.  He had many words prepared; most ready to nobly and honorable accept the rightly due punishments he felt he deserved.  But, his gaming out of this encounter had never considered this...

The idea that any of Arthur's knights were brigands and pirates seemed completely preposterous.  If anyone other than Arthur had said it, Brun might have accused them slander.  These were the greatest heroes.  The chivalric ideals he had dreamed about it in his dark days on the Edge.  The inspiration for his decision to escape...

Brun swallowed hard as the king laid a hand on his shoulder, meeting his gaze.  He did his best to listen carefully to the rest of the King's words even as his mind raced to incorporate this new reality and exorcise the voices of his personal ghosts.  The explanation washed over him.  Acceptance of his past.  Recognition of his deeds.  An opportunity for penance.  A life devoted to rebuilding and serving.  To make himself /into/ that Ideal...

As the King walked on, Brun stayed.  Say something. Right!  Respond!  Ummm....  "Thank you, your majesty.  I will be there."  He felt warm.  Why was it suddenly so hot?  He could still feel the King's hand...  His eyes...  He swallowed hard again and turned to head back to the Armour Bay.

Stop that.  He is married.  And the King.  But.... NO...

OOC: Smithy total - +5(or +7, see below) (Rolled -1, Smithy +4, Spending FP for Euryleia is my everything)

Happily willing to spend another FP to tag: Avaluna's Forges to take it up to +7.  If it could mean anything.
 This is Euryleia and she deserves the BEST.  He's been burning all the midnight oil, midday oil, all the oils.  Threw himself into a bit of a depressive break even.  He's tired...

22:01, Today: Brun rolled -1 using 4 Fudge dice with rolls of 1, -1, 0, -1.  Reforging the Lady - Smithy +4.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:13, Mon 17 July 2023.

Meara looked quite proud of herself when Auntie Val praised her in front of Freya, but then she processed what the two of them said just before the praise and did an impressive job of not showing that she actually understood the noble double-speak.  As Freyr sat next to her, the two of them exchanged incredibly quick glances that spoke volumes to one another.

Did you climb through the vents to get here?
Did you skip out on your morning duties to get LAID?
That is not-
I'm so proud of you!
Answer my question!
Nobody knows I was actually late!  I think it is rather impressive that I managed to make it here 'on time' without your assistance.
There is lint in your hair.
Your buttons are off by one.
I shall say nothing if you say nothing.
Deal!

All of this was unspoken and conveyed in a manner of seconds while Freyr was seating herself.

"Please do not let my lateness ruin the conversation," Freyr said as she straightened herself in the seat, ensuring that she looked like the buttons being off was intentional.  Her natural elegance definitely helped, and given her position with Meara, may end up accidentally setting off a fashion trend.

One of the nobles, an middle aged woman about the same age as Meara's mother, asked with a critical tone, "I heard you personally rescued a commoner, Princess.  One whom you had purchased a dress that matched the one you wore."

As if doing such things was the most natural activity for nobility, Meara nodded in confirmation, while Freyr sat up slightly straighter, prepared to cut into the noble's honor harshly (with words, of course) should he slander Meara's deeds, odd as they were.  "I did.  An adorable little girl whose parents had told her to look to me as an example of how to behave like a lady.  When the attack happened, she was with me, so I kept her with me, then due to the circumstances, brought her into the cockpit of Brunhildr so she would not be left alone in the middle of a firefight.  I am happy to say she was successfully reunited with her parents after the evacuation."

As I'm sure this will be ripe for scandal among the nobility (bringing a mere peasant into a ball AND a Knight?!) while being equally wonderful news for the commoners (look how she cares!), I'm Compelling (Un)fortunate Reputation for a fate point.  Let's go, scandal, let's go!  Get those rumors flowing!
This message was last edited by the player at 21:45, Mon 17 July 2023.

Baroness Kotta made a face like she'd stepped in something very unpleasant and had just gotten her first whiff of it. "Indeed? That's just as well. Back with her own kind. It's just a shame your act of charity was sullied. An armour is no place for a child and certainly not one of peasant stock. To think that an armour as storied as Brunhildr would be...despoiled so. You are indeed a credit to your house, Princess Meara. To have fought so fiercely while minding that little creature."

OOC: Oh, I am definitely letting you have that Compel. Take your Fate Point! And, I'll raise you another. How about I offer you a Compel on Berserker to lose your temper on this rude lady. What's more important? Keeping your cool in front of awesome Auntie Val or putting this woman who talks about Mimi like she's a stray dog in her place?

If you take the Compel have another Fate Point. But if you refuse it, you owe me a Fate Point. What will you do?

---

Brun's meeting with the King put his mind at ease and despite his fatigue, he made encouraging progress in his work upon Euryleia's. She was still far from combat ready, but her core systems were restored and her inner frame had been completely overhauled. Now he needed to run diagnostics to ensure everything was functioning properly. It would do no good to continue working on other systems if there were still issues with the fundamentals.

Brun entered the cockpit, donned his neuronhelm, and slowly brought Euryleia's reactor online. As the reactor core thrummed to life he felt a surge of...Triumph once more. The same emotion he'd felt after he and Euryleia had save the last transport from the Emergent suicide attack. The same emotion he felt the instant before she had gone offline.

The sensation suddenly turned to intense Curiosity. Then Fear. Back to Curiosity. Elation. Suddenly, Brun found his mind racing. His neurosync levels became erratic. His vitals spiked on the bio-monitor. His vision began to blur...

Brun's eyes shot open suddenly. Had he lost consciousness? The bio-monitor showed his vitals were textbook perfect. His neurosync levels were all within acceptable parameters.

Then he noticed he wasn't alone. An alluring young knight stood perched just inside the cockpit. She wore the style of flight suit commonly seen on Avaluna, though she had several affections which made her uniform unique. A dark blue sash was loosely tied around her waist and hung to one side. Her flight suit was unfastened, the zipper pulled down a little lower than courtly decorum dictated was appropriate.

The woman suddenly yawned and stretched as much as the cockpit would allow. This gave Brun a good look at the emblem on the chest of her flight suit. It was the heraldry of House Stjernevold that had been proposed to Brun just the day before. The woman saw Brun watching her and gave him a dazzling, if mischievously wicked, smile. On the bio-monitor, his vitals spiked once more.

OOC: Brun, with your Success with Style, you have done Just What You Promised on Euryleia's Repairs. You are also Way Ahead of Schedule. You may even be able to finish her by the time of the Oath Ceremony.

You know if you can figure out what's going on...

---

Iliza nibbled at a bit of cheese as she sat perched on the edge of her bed. She had slept the entire day as Gwydion kept watch over her. Her rest was fitful at times, but she hadn't  awoken, even when Irina had slipped in to check on her after she returned from her shift.

Irina brought a tray of food for Gwydion and placed it beside him. Rather than risk waking her sister by speaking, Irina mouthed "Thank You" to Gwydion before slipping out once more.

Eventually, Iliza stirred. She sat up slowly in the dim light and rested her back against the headboard. She regarded Gwydion for a long while, and though she started to speak several times, she stopped short of any vocalizations. After several minutes, she swung her feet over the edge of the bed and then reached up to pull her hair back over her shoulder. She sat there on the edge of the bed a while before she had spotted the tray and reached out to take a small rectangular slice of cheese.

"I'd like to go with you tomorrow. If you'll have me," she said between small bites. Her voice was still hoarse. "I know I can help somehow."
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:32, Tue 18 July 2023.

The time Gwydion spent watching over Iliza hadn't been idle, as he'd still his other responsibilities to take care of. Today, though, those could be handled over his dataslate, sending messages as needed and delegating authority as appropriate, glancing over graphs and projections and not being too bothered by how many of the messages were panicked cries wondering where he was. All of those things were already plans in motion and only needed the slightest correcting. Iliza needed him present. He was fully committed to being there for her.

Irina got a soft smile and a nod when she gratefully brought in the food, and every indication was that Gwydion was happier to be here than he had been for days. Once Iliza stirred, she had his full attention. He even brought the plate of food closer to her, as well as some water, all with a look of pure adoration rather than pity or unease. The prince let her recover at her own pace.



"My dear, there is nothing in this universe that would make me happier than to have you by my side. As long as you're feeling up to it, I would love to have you with me. And I think it would do the people good to see you up and about, as well. You have a way of lighting up everywhere you go. Though maybe that's just what I see when I look at you."

Brun's eyes strayed to the monitor that kept spiking, trying to quickly gauge whether it was malfunctioning or if he was dying or...  Then he snapped his attention back to the unknown knight, trying to gauge what her intentions were...which just made the vitals monitor spike again as he /thought/ he might have a good idea about her /intentions/.

A flurry of questions came to mind and Brun struggled to sort them out to prioritize what he needed to know, "Who??  What??  How??"  He paused and tried to get control of himself.  Take a breath.  Start again.  Don't think about the uniform or the security breach.  Or the uniform.  STOP.  He tried again, "Who are you?  How did you get in here?"  His eye narrowed on the House Stjernevold crest.

The change in Meara's demeanor was instantaneous.  She had been cheerful and well mannered, but for a moment, the room became so silent one could hear a pin drop.  She set down her silverware and a shadow fell over her face, her smile nowhere to be seen.

"How... how dare."

Freyr was on edge before the baroness had finished speaking, as she knew that, of all the things Meara felt strongly about, this was one of the biggest.

"How dare you insult her.  Insult them.  Their work is what allows us to live as we do.  We owe them more than we can repay, and you call them creatures?  You dare imply that her presence sullied Brunhildr?!  Despoiled her?!  I fought well that day because of her.  You have no right to-"

"Princess!"

Meara cut her angry retort short when Freyr's curt interruption brought her back from what was building up to unyielding rage.

"Do not speak ill of the common folk in my presence ever again."

It was only then that Meara realized she had stood up and slammed both of her hands on the table as she yelled at the baroness, causing her glass of wine to tip over and spill on the tablecloth.  Part of her wanted to apologize to Queen Valerie for her behavior, but the rest of her wanted to jump over the table and throttle Kotta right then and there, and the only reason she didn't was due to respect for her aunt.  The cold rage in her eyes, however, was nonetheless clear for all to see.  While Meara was not naturally intimidating, Freyr knew that it was quite likely she would have to wrangle Meara out of there if Baroness Kotta was truly foolish enough to continue provoking Meara.  Even if the baroness did not, the damage had already been done.

Consider that compel accepted!