Zavieta leads Lance down a twisty cobblestone alleyway-or-street-what’s-the-difference (this is a city that was not built for cars, only for walking and horses), then down a steep staircase, through a small square with a fountain (it does not depict a unicorn, although Lance will note one stone in the town scare that seems to have a weathered unicorn’s face carved onto it, easy to trip on but hey). Singing comes from the open doors of a pub. There’s a small market. People are bustling, hustling, doing work.

Stairs go up the pub, and Zavieta knocks on the door, smiling hopefully at Lance.

There is no answer.

Zavieta knocks harder. A groan from within? Zavieta tries the door handle and it swings open as if it was never closed. Another groan.

"Gavriel?" she calls. The door opens suddenly and a man who looks like he's nursing a hangover, but also could punch a hangover out, is standing there. He squints. "Gavriel's paying his tithe to the delectable goddess of grain and cannot--oh, Zavieta!" He straightens a touch. "Aren't you supposed to be working?"

"I brought Prince Lance, the son of Flora, to see Gav. He's..." And she trails away, putting a hand out toward Lance.

  The real city of Amber, Lance thinks, not the palace grandeur, but the salt of the earth people that were the backbone of what kept things running.  He liked it.

  Lance smiles and extends a hand to shake. "It's just Lance.  I hope we're not interrupting anything?  I was hoping to speak with Gavriel about commissioning a portrait, and Zavieta was kind enough to bring me to meet him."

The man squints at Lance and then does a doubletake. He takes Lance's hand and bows over it. "Enchanted," he says, with a meaningful look. Yeah, Lance. You're being flirted with a little. "I'm Virgil."

Then the whole situation seems to register with the drunk man and he gives Zavieta a look, then glances over his shoulder, "Oh uh, yes, come in, Gavriel will..." He gives Zavieta a meaningful look. She gives one right back. "...I mean, of course you must come in. Any artist would hang himself from Cabra before passing up a chance to paint you... Actually Zavieta why don't you, you know the studio, I'll go see how Gavriel's doing and you show your guest to the couch."

Zavieta, teeth only a little gritted, "Yes."

The man disappears. Zavieta smiles hopefully at Lance. "Sorry. He's... he sometimes stays up pretty late, um, practicing in different lights... and making contacts, you know. Here, come this way."

And Zavieta leads Lance into a very jumbled up artist's studio, some plants growing near a window, assorted and interesting props, a couple of medieval-style (although for all Lance knows, cutting edge here) chairs and low couches, trunks and tables with candles and oil lamps in varying states of use, a table filled with interesting looking vials, a scatter of jewels, a LOT of bottles of booze, some dirty dishes, some costume pieces... A moth-eaten tapestry divides the room, and Zavieta brings Lance over to a couch by the window. It has a nice view of the square and there's a little dish out with birdseed and nuts. There's also some suggestive clay sculptures in varying states of completion. The whole atmosphere is very 'Renaissance Artist.'

Voices from the other side of the moth-eaten tapestry.

  Lance looks around the room briefly before settling onto the couch by the window.  He glanced out at the square, noted the offerings for the birds.  He wasn't the only one who did such things, it seems.

  From the state of the studio, it was clear that Gavriel was struggling with more than merely getting his career to launch, but Lance wasn't judging.  The way he saw it, there would be opportunity for Gavriel to either sieze or not, and with that opportunity would be the hope of a fresh start if he chose to take it.  Lance hoped he would.  If he could start by bettering the lives of these three people, it would be good.  It would be a seed that would perhaps bloom and spread to those nearby.  He would keep his eyes out to see where he could help people.

  Lance looked back to Zavieta and says quietly, "It's alright.  I know what hard times are like.  We'll see about putting such things in the past, eh?  Whatever I can do to help."

Zavieta blushes.

There's a series of loud thumps from the other side of the tapestry, a plaintive third voice raised in question, and then a pale young man with curly dark hair and smouldery brown eyes, looking extremely under the weather, comes out from behind the tapestry, flinging it rather dramatically to the side. It falls again immediately but not before Lance can see the chaotic mess that passes for an artist's bed, the long-haired young woman who occupies it and who Virgil is helping into a smock (both freeze when they think they might have been seen, but the curtain does fall back in place quickly enough that Lance just got a glimpse), and general debauched chaos. Bottles. Etcetera. Pipes.

Zavieta does not stop blushing.

The young man enthusiastically approaches Lance and bows, hiding a wince as he does so (don't throw up don't throw up), rising with a charming if wobbly smile. The smile seems tinged with solemnity, and there's a certain intensity to the way he looks Lance over.

"Welcome to my studio, Prince Lance. You find me unprepared for this visit. I am Gavriel Chandler, humble son of nobody in particular, devotee of beauty and student of reality. What can I do for you so early in the morning?"

It's The Afternoon Zavieta mouths, causing Gavriel to give her a very brotherly look best described as whathuh? followed by annoyed no it isn't stop being pedantic.

  Lance smiles and shakes the young man’s hand. “Good morning, Gabriel, and thank you for seeing me today without advance notice.  I promise to not take up much time this morning, as I have an appointment at noon that I must be on time for.  So, to the point of my visit.  Your sister tells me that you and she are artists of great skill, and that you might be willing to accept a commission on a portrait or two.  Two, I think... one for a gift for my mother, one to hang in the castle along with those of the rest of my family.  If you’re interested, we can discuss terms and scheduling and what not.  Oh, and please just call me Lance and no bowing or titles, especially here in your own studio.  I’m just a guy like anyone else.”


((OOC:  should still be morning, around 10:30-ish))

"I, uh, yes, of course I accept this commission!"

I’m just a guy like anyone else, Lance says, and that just isn’t true. But Gavriel doesn’t argue or judge Lance for wanting to be an everyman; for thinking he’s an everyman, when he is the most beautiful person Gavriel has ever seen. The whole of his intensity does go to business. A portrait or two from a royal, and such an aesthetically pleasing one, could really be the wind beneath the wings of Gavriel’s ambition; moreover, Lance has an inspiring sort of way about him; the young man is cautiously excited at the idea of turning Lance into a work of art. And he’s arrogant enough to think he’s the artist to do it, too. No false modesty here. (Even though there’s an internal gulp: a work of his hanging in the castle?!)

So. Gavriel nods sagely, but also circles Lance. If Lance turns to try to keep facing him, he takes Lance at his word and reaches out to keep him still. “No, I want to take a look at you.” After circling Lance a few times, his fingers twitch and he says, “Are you good at holding still? Do you have ideas of your own on how you want to be depicted? The gift for your mother; do you wish a miniature she can carry with her, or do you wish something for her to hang in one of her walls? How many hours I’ll need you to sit for me depends entirely on what you want the end result to look like, and how restless you are. I,” he clears his throat, suddenly doubtful, looking toward Zavieta. “My sister is a very good artist. She might assist. But I’ll need money to purchase appropriate materials, for a prince and two portraits, probably about,” he names a fee. It is quite high, but not actually what he’s worth. Still, it would raise eyebrows.

"I am not a hack, I am a true artist, and if I paint you I will paint you as a piece of true art, Lance. My work is my soul, and it is yours as well if I get you right. If you want to be painted with dogs, that is an extra fee." This last is said with the tone of someone who has been asked to paint rather more pet portraits than his sensitive artiste's soul would like...

(Naw, it's more like 11 at this point. Lance only has twenty, twenty five minutes if he wants to be sure to get back to the castle at noon. :P Takes time to go down and up that mountain by carriage.)

  Lance stays still as instructed while Gavriel circles and comes up with his price.  It was high, but Lance wanted quality and was sure he could convince Random that it would be a worthy endeavor.  He already had a few commissions lined up, his armor and weapons, a ballgown for Cheryl...surely he would get approval for the portrait fees.  If not, he would forge out into shadow to get what he needed.

  "The one for my mother would be to be hung on her wall.  She has something of a small one to carry with her already, done by the hand of my cousin, Princess Jade.  I never posed for it.  Perhaps it's something of the magic that she imbued it with that didn't require it."

  Lance shrugs.  "Holding still is something I can manage well enough, and while I had originally thought that the one for my mother would be nice with a dog since she likes dogs, I think having flowers would do just as well.  She likes flowers too.  The one for the castle I'm thinking would be something martial, perhaps, maybe leaning on a sword, or something?  My colors are red and gold, so I suppose I'd wear something in that general scheme.  I have some lovely armor being made, but it will be a few weeks yet before it is done.  But of course, I'm no artist, so ultimately I'd leave it up to you.  You know what would work best for such things far better than I."

  With a smile he adds, "I have no doubt that your price is more than fair, and I suppose it is customary to do something of a portion up front to cover materials and expenses, with the remainder of the balance paid upon completion, isn't it?  I can talk to the Castellan or whoever is in charge of such things, or the King or Queen if needed.  I'd like to keep it as a surprise for my mother though."

  Lance glances out the window, gauging the sun's angle.

  "My time grows very short today, Gavriel, and doubtless you'll want time to prepare.  What say we meet again tomorrow?  Perhaps you could come to the castle and we can get the payments arranged, and we could find where the portrait might be hung so you can best decide on the needed sizing, and see what I have in my wardrobe that will be suitable?  Perhaps at noon, for lunch?  If my other cousins are about, I could introduce you.  They might also like to offer you some commissions.  If you'd like, I could send a carriage to pick you up."

“I can begin the work before your armor is ready. You don’t think that hack who painted Corwin on the Edge of Chaos painted from life, do you?” He chuckles in a share-the-joke-way, glancing toward Virgil and the long-haired young woman who’ve come out from the bedchamber portion of the studio-slash-apartment, but sure to include Lance in the joke too. He tries to assure the prince: "But truthfully, there is no need to be concerned, I won't even need you to hold the sword you want depicted in the final painting, at least not to begin with. I'll just need you. At first. Then if there is a specific sword meaningful to you, I'll need to take a look at it eventually. Is there anything meaningful to you, private in nature, you want me to include? Think about it and tell me later. Many great men and women like to include secret messages to themselves in such things." As he speaks, he grabs at a piece of scratch paper and a pencil and starts taking some rapid notes.

Zavieta bites her lip and gives Virgil a look. Virgil shakes his head like he doesn't know what she wants. She realizes she'll have to explain things herself, and looks heavenwards briefly. There'll be time on the carriage ride back to the castle, so she holds her tongue for now.

Gavriel's brain finally catches up to the other things that Lance said. "Tomorrow, at your pleasure. Yes yes, that all sounds good, see the place where you want the painting to go, look through your wardrobe, although if the Princess Florimel is in residence, perhaps you might come up with a story in advance about what you want me for so she doesn't suspect... Did you say send a carriage?"

Poor starving artist gets carriage escort to castle? Gavriel is really looking forward to TELLING EVERYBODY about this over drinks. SUCK IT, haters. This isn't slang that Gavriel knows, of course, but it is slang that is in his heart.

Displaying way more chill aloud, he says with a bow, "If you wish to send a carriage, I will be ready."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:11, Mon 03 May 2021.

  Lance nods.  “I shall send a carriage to pick you up tomorrow at eleven o’clock then, at the place where it is parked now, out through the alleyway.  We can figure everything else out then.  Well, Gabriel, Virgil, Miss whose name I’ve not been gifted with, I must make haste.  If you’d all like to come for lunch tomorrow you are all of course welcome.  I look forward to it, and thank you for seeing me on such an abrupt visitation.”  He goes around the room shaking the hands of the two men, and bowing his forehead to touch the woman’s hand if presented.  He had learned to do such at the renn-faires when the kissing of a hand might imply more than courtesy.

  He turns to Zavieta, smiles and extends his hand for her to take.  “It’s time to head back.  Are you coming back with me, or have you things that you need to do here?”

Virgil grins at Lance. Gavriel seems distracted and intense, peering at Lance’s face and frowning over the man’s body, but pleased enough too. The Miss whose name Lance hasn’t been gifted with drops her eyes, only to glance up flirtatiously in the next moment. She is not fancy enough to present her hand to royalty.

“I’ll come back with you,” Zavieta says, demurely. “I have work this afternoon.”

And they all fare well each other, with Gavriel waving away any fussing, Virgil and Zavieta being in clear conspiracy with one another (although it also seems they maybe don't like each other that much?), and the long-haired woman stays back and quiet.

Once Zavieta and Lance have left, Lance can hear a distant cheer from inside followed by some hushing. As they cross the courtyard and alley back to the carriage, there's a flourish of horns, a trio of men (sailors) in outlandish (but isn't it all outlandish?) garb smoking outside one of the taverns.

  Lance throws the sailors a nod and a quick salute before holding the carriage door for Zavieta and climbing n after asking the coachman to head back to the castle and remember this spot for a pickup for tomorrow morning at eleven o’clock for the artist Gabriel and his entourage.

  Once the clip clop of hooves has become steady, Lance sits back and smiles.

  “Well, your brother and yourself now have an excellent opportunity before you.  He sounded happy, but I get the feeling you were holding something back in the studio.  If there’s anything you need tell me, as always, please speak freely with me.”

Zavieta demurely folds her hands in her lap. "He is happy. He'll do a good job, too... He really is brilliant." There's no grudging when she speaks to her brother's skillset. "He just needs..." She shrugs expansively. Then blushes a little. "We should have shown you some of his work! I didn't think about it, everything was so rushed, I'm so sorry."

A pause. "But ah. Back in the studio, I was just going to explain how artists are usually paid... Gav's head is in the clouds with that stuff. He knows he needs supplies, but while he's not doing other work he also needs some money for food and rent. Usually for a commission like this, of this caliber, I mean, the patron will pay for supplies--to a point anyway, that's where you get patrons like Lord Rondoval, who's notoriously tightfisted about this kind of stuff and suddenly has ideas about more efficient ways to make certain pigments... but I digress. The patron will pay for supplies, then pay a quarter to half of the painting's fee up front; the rest to follow upon completion."

"But you can work out what the best system is for you. Do you have a secret you want to include in the painting?"

  Lance listens attentively. “Have no worries about the finances, I’m not a tightwad about such things, and I thank you for correcting me.  I understand that quality costs, and will make sure that things are made right for your brother.  I don’t imagine the King taking issue with the cost.  And as for seeing your brother’s other works, perhaps I can sponsor a gallery showing of both of your  collected works, you know, invites to the nobles hear about, some cheese, some wine, all that?  A good way to make some connections for the both of you.”

  Lance considers the question of secret messages, let’s out a chuckle. “In truth, I don’t think I have much in the way of secrets.  I’m kind of an open book sort of guy.  If people want to know about me, they can simply ask.  Except my cousin Jon.  He can go pound sand somewhere uncomfortable.”

Zavieta bites the inside of her lip, but seems a sympathetic listener. Of course she does, Lance is about to shower money on her brother and also look at him, all dreamy in golden loveliness. "You don't wish to reveal yourself to Prince Jon? Do you think he'll use you poorly?"

  “Let us just say that things have been said between us that will prevent me from ever wanting anything to do with him.  I have one obligatory thing that I must do with my group of cousins the day after tomorrow where he shall be present, and after that I expect that things may get even more strained...but I promised my cousins Jade and Ariadne that I would attend and I am not about to allow Jon’s threat deter me from seeing it through.”

  Lance shrugs.  “It’s just one of those things though.  I gave my word and I’ll see it through, and when it’s done I hope to have nothing further to do with him.”

"Oh." Zavieta looks out the window for a while, letting the scenery pass by. People move out of the road to look after the royal carriage, but if she sees anybody she knows she doesn't wave. After a little bit of contemplation, she ventures to ask, "Does that mean you will avoid Amber? If he's around?"

  Lance shakes his head.  "Nope.  I rather like it here, and the rest of my family is generally around, so him being here isn't going to keep me away.  It just means that I don't plan on spending much time around him, if any.  Amber is a big place, the castle, the city, the countryside.  There's plenty of room.  Of course, not wanting to be around him will probably very much limit the time spent with my cousins as they tend to cluster together, and that's a shame that I shall miss spending as much time with them, but better that than having something awful happen between myself and Jon."

  Lance looks out the window for a bit.  He waves at people, smiling as they pass.

  "There are things that will keep me from Amber from time to time.  I have promised to go and assist my aunt Fiona with something she's about, and I have to get to the root of the grey man problem, and of course there's just some general exploring of other worlds that I want to do....but be damned if I'll miss out on Amber and all of it's wonders because of my cousin."

"Maybe you'll find common ground," Zavieta ventures. "They say even Eric and Corwin resolved their differences at the end. Er, or some people say."

"But I'm glad you won't keep yourself away from Amber and the rest of your family." Her eyes sparkle, mischievously. "It's been exciting, having so many strong royal personalities around. What is your area of expertise, P- er, Lance?"

The people who notice Lance waving, smiling, mostly brighten right up and smile or wave back, with a few sour looks from companions of people who brighten up...

  "Well, I'm a swordsman.  It's the thing that inspired me as a child and I dove in head first.  Never thought it would be real life and death stuff, it was all for tournament and show and educational stuff.  I used to travel and work the fairs that did medieval re-enactments, and I travelled a bit looking for the best swordsmen I could find to learn from. Earth had been a lot like Amber, maybe a thousand years ago, minus the magic.  Then they made all these great mechanical advancements, and grew with their technology away from their roots, so some groups created these travelling fairs that would go all around and show the old ways of craftsmanship, dress, traditions.  Then there were also moving pictures, for entertainment that showed fantasy realities with sword fighting acted out, sort of like a play.  I trained a lot of people for these too.  That's what I did up until just over a week ago, then my mom found me, and here I am."

Zavieta nods, wisely. "There are fairs in and around the Golden Circle, too. Sometimes craftsmen exhibit their wares or performers tell a story. Maybe you'll still get to do educational swordsmanship if you wish it."

A pause, and then she asks curiously, "Do the people at the fairs not like the technological advancements?"

In reply to Storyteller (msg # 64):

  The question brings a laugh.  "Oh, quite the contrary!  They so love their technology that they've surrendered the best parts of themselves to it.  At the fairs, most of the true craftsmen seem like they wish for what Amber is.  I was among them, I suppose.  The people who attended the fairs seemed to go mostly as a diversion, but are happier in their more modern ways.  Still, they like to visit the old ways."

  "On Earth, mankind has given up on true social contact.  Instead of going and speaking to someone in person or writing them a letter, they instead send snippets of speech or pictures to rach other using a device called a smartphone.  Most people have either forgotten or never learned how to do basic things through experiencing them.  Most things are mass produced, rather than crafted.  Food is grown, altered through chenicals, and packaged and preserved often without ever being touched by human hands."

  He smiles, "Oh, it has it's good points too.  Travel is faster, people have access to nearly unlimited information, communication across vast distances is nearly instantaneous, and you can get hot baths without having to trouble anyone to heat and haul water for you...and much of the world has self-emptying chamber pots.  For all the advancements though, I think I prefer Amber.  The food is better, everything is more beautiful and intense, and the way of life is better.  If I could change two things about Amber, it would be the chamber pots and the baths, because I don't think anyone should need do those things for me.  Those things I'm working on.  At least the bath thing is partly solved.  I found a lovely snowmelt-fed pool up on Mt. Kolvir that I sometimes bathe in, although it's bloody cold."

  Lance looks out the window and sees that the castle grows closer.

  "What about you, Zavieta?  What would you change if you had the power to do so?"

"Don't bathe in cold snow water just because you're saving us from the trouble. It's no trouble. In all honesty, some feelings might be hurt if it seems like you don't want people to do their jobs... Working at the castle is a very high honor... Incidentally," she adds, super casually, "Where is this snowmelt pool? Sounds like a lovely spot!"

"As for what I would change..." That question feels a little like a trap, and Zavieta seems a touch nervous, so her very diplomatic (but nonetheless true) answer is, "I- I  suppose I'd have more parties. I like when everything is festively turned out. More games, too."

And as the carriage winds its way back up the mountain, the familiar sounds of people -- tradesmen and the like -- calling back and forth begins to fade...

...until the sound of some minor commotion outside.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:06, Thu 20 May 2021.

  "It's more to really cool down after my morning run, than anything else, but it decreases the frequency that people need to haul water for me for a mere bath.  I promise I'll still take a hot bath now and again, but thats more for when I have the leisure time to enjoy it.  Trust me, I don't want to take anyone's jobs away, I just want to make it a bit easier for them to do it.  The pool?  Oh, it's about a mile up Kolvir, along one of the game trails to the northeast-ish.  Pretty spot, a little cliff overhanging it.  Good for getting the sweat off after a few miles of running.  Very refreshing."

  Lance listens to Zavieta's answer.  "Parties, celebrations, games.  You're right, there should be more of those.  I asked my mother about holidays and such, and there don't seem to be too many.  I'll talk to her, and the King and Queen and see if we can't get a bit more festivity going.  It occurs to me that we don't have a big celebration of the founding of Amber, or anything to celebrate my Grandfather or Great-grandfather.  Of course, there will likely be something for the coming out of the new generation of royals, but probably not until it is safer to do so...."

  Looking out the window, Lance tries to see the sound of the commotion.  Maybe it's something he can help with.

"The Feast of the Unicorn is a little bit of those things," Zavieta says. "King Oberon and the Unicorn and Amber's history. It's a very joyful festival; sometimes the festivities can last for days, depending on the king's mood!" Zavieta's eyes shine. She clearly likes this holiday. "Summer Solstice is very nice, too." Here, a look up from under her eyelashes.

When Lance looks out of the carriage, he sees what looks like quite the kerfluffle. There is one (1) overturned cart, many cabbages rolling about, one (1) donkey lying on the ground, two (2) men involved in a fight, one of whom is wielding a leg (??? a proesthetic leg, looking much like puppetry, clasped in silver) and beating the other man with it, while four (4) others goad them on and occasionally dart in with sticks. Easy enough to ignore! But certainly a strange kerfluffle. The one who is doing the beating is dressed in rather raggedy leather 'armor.'