It's the beginning of July, 1460AD. The Count of Nevel and Rethel has fled to France after being accused of practicing witchcraft to mess with the succession of the Burgundian Duke. His wife has fled with him and the only child he has is an illegitimate daughter, who stays behind wherever she's growing up.

The castle in the County of Rethel is given to Godfrey le Flamand, a young and minor noble who has taken this chance to prove himself and his abilities to manage an estate. Godfrey has recently been wed to Marie d' Hainaut and fortune seems to smile upon the couple as his wife is currently pregnant.

With them comes an entire court. Advisers, guards, cooks, gardeners and many other servants follow in their wake as they take residence in the Keep. In an attempt to make a good impression for the people in Rethel he has organized a festival on the Religious feast day of Thomas the Apostle, which is held on July the 3th.

Today is that day. The feast is in full swing, it is the evening and you get to sit at a table in the Manor, though not at the table of the Count himself. The food, in Burgundian fashion, is excellent and on the edge of decadent. The outfits are amazing, though not as wild as with the higher nobles of the Burgundian court. This feast is for the important people in this county. There are representatives of the villages, of the church and of local nobility.

Our knights are seated at a table reserved for the nobles while our trader is at a table only a slight bit farther from the castellan. This is normal as it reflects the hierarchy that the church teaches. She's at least better off than the other commoners here who do not eat, but are glad with the chance to witness it all. Chairs have been prepared for them. This is how things are done in this time. It is not abnormal.

The first course of local cheese, nuts and dried fruits has passed, and the Burgundy wine is flowing already. People are not really limited to their table but can walk around and grab a breath or a talk in the wings of the banquet hall (some of them don't have commoners watching).

The feast was truly a splendid thing, a cacophony of conversation, laughter, music, and a less than subtle argument between a wealthy middle aged couple nearby. The fine cloth on the ladies and men alike could be seen as little flashes of vivid color among the throng and the savory scents of the feast on display were enough to whet the appetite of even very picky eaters.

But for Gerhard de Colmar it was a bittersweet affair. The noise of the boisterous crowd set him on edge, and the barn like heat of so many people packed together in July had set beads of sweat upon his brow and a flush to his pale skin. The fact that he had already eaten two full plates, and had indulged in several cups of wine to try and cool himself did not help the situation.

His current state could well be called conspicuous, having arrived alone and now glossy eyed and a little sullen. He was also armed, which was technically his privilege, but given that most of his peers had forgone any sort of protection in the presence of so many armed guards, so they might dance and mingle more freely, it made Gerhard seem all the more set apart.

He was dressed in a doublet of dark blue with white hose and some low buckled shoes. While he had arrived in a modest hat, it now lay next to his plate as he had grown too warm to keep it on. The aforementioned weapon was polite enough, a narrow bladed arming sword with a simple leather grip and a plain scabbard, but it stuck out at an odd angle in the press and had already nearly tripped one reveler before he had adjusted it.

He had been watching the crowd silently, some greasy bones and cloves left on his plate, when somebody passing in the crowd jostled him firmly from behind. There was a murmured apology, Gerhard glanced over his shoulder and assured the stranger there was no harm done, but he took a long, slow exasperated breath after the stranger had gone.

He turned to his neighbor, a man with the glint of firesteel and the insignia of the Order of the Golden Fleece clasped about his neck, and shot him a knowing look. It was a look that was probably more familiar that could be justified given that they themselves were strangers, but they were also neighbors for the evening, and Gerhard was probably a little drunk by the look of things.

"I don't believe we've met." he seemed to realize, the glossy eyes glanced to the insignia, then back up to his neighbors face a half second too slowly. He had a subtle accent, German no doubt, and he dipped his head in courtesy. "Gerhard de Colmar, at your service."
This message was last edited by the player at 07:41, Sat 17 July 2021.

Helena of Ghent stifled the urge to sigh as she ran her eyes across the assembled great and good of the Castellan's court.

It wasn't that she particularly wanted to be up there, or indeed in the hall at all. Banquets had rarely held much enjoyment for her, the food being too rich, the meal being too long, and the company usually dull and leering at what little cleavage she was willing to display for the sake of keeping up appearances. This feast was little better, and she'd already had to change her seat to avoid the wandering hands of an iron merchant from Wallonia who claimed he was a good friend of her father's.

On this occasion, however, it wasn't the company which crinkled her brow as she looked up at the riches on show. Instead, it was the fact that she had a sneaking suspicion that she'd paid for quite a lot of it.

It was, she reflected, the great trial of being one of the few people in the hall who didn't rely on the harvest to furnish them with wares - her family's trade in textiles and wool gave a regular income, and much of the excess was available to be lent to sympathetic parties who were, perchance, a little short for the year.

Such leases did not, of course, provide interest - she had no desire to be labelled a heretic, or indeed to suffer the predations of the mobs which regularly blamed the Hebrews for their lot in life - but they did provide favours and promises of suppoirt which allowed her family's prosperity to continue.

Unfortunately for her, most the nobility tended to be forgetful of all their talk of sound investment in workmen to repair bridges, or the purchase of new livestock, or the hiring of farmers to better exploit their lands when banqueting season came around, and the distraction of baubles, jewels, silks and fine hounds tended to make her attempts to call in said loans anywhere from challenging to impossible.

Given how splended most of the court had turned out, she couldn't help but wonder exactly how much of the wealth that was being thrown about was, in fact, hers, and indeed how much of it she'd ever see again.

Keeping her sighs to herself, she dragged her eyes away from the knights and back to her own table, nodding and giving her most charming smile to her neighbour to her left, who was bitching about the prices in Rouen, and smoothed the dark blue material of her dress down across her lap, hoping to keep it from creasing too badly, and making sure her the golden pattern of her kirtle remained visible above the neckline of the dress.

Resisting the temptation to ruin the braid by running her fingers through her hair, she gestured to a page to top up her glass. As a stream of crimson wine (bought from loans to the castellan) from an shining engraved silver jug (gifted by the Abbot of Crespin, who swore blind that his monks were down to a single meal a day and a tallow candle on Sundays) pooled in the polished bowl of the cup (part of Marie's dowry, paid for by Hanault subjects who had come to her to keep them in feed until the winter), she bitterly reflected that, if nothing else, she knew how to put on a decent feast.

"Why, pregnancy makes thee only fairer, my dear Marie. Thou looketh just like the Madonna of master van Eyck."

Anne d’Arras (‘de Valois-Bourgogne’, as she styled herself) kept the courtly smile plastered to her face as her eyes went from her friend and mistress to the other side of the crowded great hall, filled with chatter and the heavy scent of food and gathered humanity.

Rethel.

A Burgundian outpost like an island surrounded by land, and French land at that, closer to Reims than to the Ducal court, wherever it was these days, Ghent, perhaps, or Antwerp? Not exactly the first choice of residence for a fashionable court lady – but certainly Anne’s only choice. It had been her one way to escape that accursed nunnery; even if it meant a de facto exile in the remote Ardennes, even if it meant having to play lady-in-waiting to a nobody like Marie d’Hainaut.

Her eyes went back to her mistress, sliding towards her growing belly. Anne was a natural daughter of a great Duke; Marie, just the new wife of some Flemish parvenu. A mere jumped-up lieutenant! Nought but a fill-in for the absentee Count! The fact he had immediately married was bad news; the fact she was already pregnant was worse news. Godfrey le Flamand must have thought he was being subtler than a Doctor of the Church, but to Anne it was obvious: the castellan was trying to start his own dynasty, to appropriate Rethel for himself and his descendants while Charles of Nevers was in hiding. The filthy arriviste!

It took one to know one.

Anne half-closed her eyes, pretending to listen to Marie. In her mind she saw herself wearing Marie’s dress, sitting at Marie’s place, dining in Marie’s silver plate. A triumphant return to court, as Countess of Rethel, a great lady in her own right. And then, Father willing, a majestic marriage, perhaps to the dauphin of France or a great prince of the Holy Roman Empire.

Naught but vain dreams, for the moment. But if nothing else, her mother had taught her how to make fortune; and wasn't Father's motto non Aliud? Aye, indeed, she would settle for no less.

"Pray excuse me for a moment, dear Marie, I must away," she said, gently interrupting the Castellan’s wife, and with a decorous smile that meant 'the privy', she got up and walked to the edge of the room, and then around it. She wasn't in any particular hurry to reach the door, and she used the time to eyeball the knight's table. This was as great a social occasion as there ever was going to be in Rethel; a prime chance to appraise the local stock, and find it uses. Her eyes caught the glint of a gold chain; the Golden Fleece? Hmmm.

Interesting.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:27, Sun 18 July 2021.

Before the Knight of the Golden Fleece could answer Gerhard, he got interrupted. An older man, walking with a cane, gently laid his hand on your shoulder. His face was wrinkled with age and his gray hair showed his age. His livery shows the crowned red lion on the silver field of the Duchy of Limburg. Seeing your own coat of arms displayed on yours (I assume), he addresses you in German. "Would you help an old knight catch some fresh air? My old war wound is acting up.", he says while patting his leg.

While thinking about profits and the reputations of the Hebrews, Helena, you notice an odd sight. Dining at the same table as the Castellan is what seems to be a Sephardic Jew. One of the ones from Spain and Portugal. He seems to be declining any meat and eating only the vegetables and politely makes conversation with his neighbors, one of which seems to be a priest of some sort. This is a very strange sight in these times. The Castellan might be more progressive than first assumed!

Anne notices people seeing her and whispering to each other. Clearly people are recognizing you, at least that's what it seems. The gossip brigade will love this. Perhaps you can use this. Some of the knights are giving you glances of interest. As the feast goes on, you are certain many will ask you to dance.

Meals keep coming, as does the wine, and dancing happens as well. Suddenly there is an audible gasp in the wings as some of the commoners see a dish being brought out. It's a roast boar that is "ridden" side-saddle by a chicken. The chicken is holding a steamed carrot. Some older folk in the wings start getting upset and have to be escorted out, but afterwards the evening continues. There are some trouvère singing knightly songs and popular dancing music.

Sir Roland de Sergius quietly enjoyed his wine as the feast continued. While he had never been known to be one to enjoy too much drink during feasts, he did enjoy drink every now and then. Dressed simply in a surcoat of red and solver, with his family's sigil sewn into the front of the jacket.

Roland nodded at the slightly older knight. "Good to meet you, Gerhard. I am Sir Roland de Sergius." But before long, an old knight approached the two, and Gerhard helped the old knight. As more food was brought out, he would gladly enjoy more, though he would not overindulge himself - images were important here, after all.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:54, Tue 20 July 2021.

Gerhard glanced up, a momentary expression agitation building upon his face as he believed himself to be accosted for the second time. But as he saw the older gentleman his expression softened into one of respect and reverence. Apparently even through several cups of wine Gerhard retained some sort of innate respect, and even perhaps a degree of reverence, for the elderly.

His own livery, that of von Rappoltstein, nearly matched the gentleman's own colors. His own was three red shields, two side by side and a third below forming a sort of triangle, on a field of silver. It was very simple heraldry compared to the chequered backgrounds, mythical animals, and complex symbols more common among the newer or more powerful Houses, but it was old, it was his own, and he took a great deal of pride in it.

"At once mein Herr. I am at your service" Gerhard replied in his native speech, uttered a polite enough excuse to his neighbors, and then stood before he offered his arm to the aged gentleman from Limburg.

Although not as leaned, toned or as handsome as some of the Knights his age seated about him, Gerhard was quite a large man, and he stood out among the crowd of revelers as he protectively guided and sheltered the older gentleman from the sometimes oblivious or simply drunk attendee, sometime with a nudge, as they gradually proceeded towards the great door of the hall.

Anne notices the gossips noticing her, and stops to get some wine from a page.

That gives her an excuse to stay on stage and be seen from a flattering angle. The cultured tones in her voice. The elegance of her hand as she takes the goblet. The flight and swish of silk as she shakes her head minutely to make the veil at the tip of her henin float around. The glimpse of an exposed, pale throat as she takes a sip.

She eyes her audience. Anne spies a couple of young knights which might fit the bill; but one is presently escorting an old gentleman out, and the other one, sporting the prized Golden Fleece, seems to be focused on the bottom of his glass. Oh well.

Her eyes switch to the gathered noblemen, giving each a little look in the eye. Nothing as scandalous as a wink, naturally. As she does this, she tries to size them up. Does she recognise any coats of arms, or does anyone look familiar from her times in court? Does anyone look particularly wealthy or mismatched? That brings her to the ladies. Who looks particularly young and naïve? Who looks, well, dangerous? Know thy enemy.

She is clearly lingering by the edge of the room, obviously signalling an availability for a dance.

'...well, you know my father! He's always been a lucky one, but I'm sure he didn't mean to put you out. I'll be sure to mention it to him when I see him next - he'll be mortified, I'm sure... If you'd just excuse me...'

She gave her best smile and patted the wrist of her latest conversation partner, before slipping deftly out of his presence and away from the table. As she turned away, the smile, which hadn't quite reached her eyes, quickly ran away from her face, which returned to an all too common scowl.

Oh, we absolutely did mean to put you out, and you damn well know why, you cheating bastard...

As with most of the deals taken by the family those days, it had been hers to make, and in this particular case, had been carefully crafted to be as inconvenient as possible to her rival, costing him an entire season's worth of trade with the Pyrenees and beyond.

She didn't tend to let her feelings dictate the family's actions, but in this case he'd crossed the line, ratting in one of her... associates to the Dover watch for owling in exchange for a blind eye to his own mirky dealings.

They'd taken their blood price for it, and she'd been forced to pay the family recompense, even as her own cut had suffered the same fate as Philippe's hand. Part retribution, part retaliation, she didn't like it, but nor did she shy away from doing what was needed, while the convenient fiction that her father's uncertain absence permitted should give her enough deniability to keep things from frothing over.

Moving to the side of the chamber and out of immediate sight, she crossed her arms and began to count out the seconds until she could feasibly make a return. As she did so, she flicked her eyes across to the main dais, seeing if anything noteworthy was occuring.

A Spanish Jew, and at the high table, no less? That'll set tongues wagging, and I suspect we'll be hearing about it on Sunday. What's Godfrey playing at? He can't be planning to declare for the Reconquista, not with a child on the way and his current array of debt...

Her frown deepened. She'd need to keep an eye on the castellan, and not just because crusaders had a bad habit of either dying abroad or conflating forgiveness of earthly sins with earthly debts, neither of which boded well for her investments.

Supping with a Sephadic Jew, especially one being placed above some of the Duchy's foremost knights, was politically risky, and there was more than one rival in the Burgundian court who would look at it as a great opportunity for mischief.

Dragging her gaze away from the high table and stepping aside to allow a page to totter past with yet more plates of delicacies, she caught sight of another woman, lurking around the edges of the dance floor and watching, just as she was, albeit from a visible angle.

Now who's that? She's a looker, no doubt, and there's some good money tied up in that silk... someone's hoping to be seen...

She watched for a few seconds more, trying to see who else might be enjoying the view.

Hmmm, quite the topic of the wags... well, aren't you popular? Now who would that... Ah, of course....

She shook her head, and resisted the temptation to smirk at the audacity.

The nymph... that's right, the old Duke's dirty little secret. Mmm, you've got the servants in a right whirl, I've never heard so many shocked whispers! And yet here you are, looking for someone new to sink your claws into...

She was, perhaps, being somewhat unfair, but given the way her night was going, she wasn't feeling particularly charitable to anyone in the chamber at that moment. Especially if they ended up spending more of their borrowed money on some floozy from Arras...

Hmmm. It seems Godrey's court is more interesting than I'd thought...

Sir Roland doesn't really have a dull moment. As a knight of the Golden Fleece every knight wants to swap stories and every lady wants to dance. If he's not betrothed yet, he might find suitable ladies here, but will they be prestigious enough. At a point in the evening the Castellan will undoubtedly come over and chat. Is there a specific thing you want to do, attempt or be on the lookout for?



As you make out of the hall, he guides you to a bench where he asks you to sit with him. Then he just quietly sits with his eyes closed, taking in a deep breath in the warm evening air. The sounds of music and revel are muted, coming both from the hall you just were in as from the city, where food and distraction has been arranged. He remains silent until right the moment where you would speak up. "For me it was the battle of Agincourt.", he said. "That's the one that scarred me ... in more ways than one.", he tells you while tapping his leg. "Ever since then feasts like these have become hard. It looks like you've also had a bad one.", he says. "You don't have to talk if you don't want," he says. "But know I understand, if you ever want. Or if you just need to sit in silence for a moment."



The rules seem to indicate that rolls should only be made in a conflict, but it has been said that love is a battleground, right? We can cover the "being available" as a dice roll. The intrigue part also seems to be part of a conflict, as in that you're taking positions in the game of intrigue. So let's roll for that as well.

1) Let's say that finding or recognizing someone really important is gonna be rather difficult in a local feast. I'm only going to give you 1 die for that.
2) Finding a naïve and impressionable young lady on the other hand is going to be easy. I'm tempted to just give you that. No roll needed. Looking for the dangerous ones is going to be harder, but not overly so for you I don't think. I'll give you two dice fort this roll.
3) Signaling for dancing is easy. Getting a dance from those you want to dance with is harder. I don't even know if couple dancing was really a thing, but for this scene let's pretend it is or that the group dance will open opportunities for a talk with an interesting person afterward. With many people present this seems to be easy, depending on what you want to get out of it. I think you want to find someone you can catch in your web of intrigue or use as a "puppet lover" of some sort. I'm going to give you two dice for that one.

So that's times rolling for you.

As to the impressionable young lady, do you want to make her up or do you want me to do it? Both are valid.



It sure is. Is there any specific course of action you would like to take or would you want me to introduce a new thing?

If there's nothing specific you want to undertake I think that you might recognize a face in the crowd. I'll give you two dice to add to a roll to see if it's a good contact or a bad one. If you roll a one you recognize a friend or ally, if not, it's someone who you at least would not define as a friend. You do the recognizing. Wether or not they see you (yet) is still up to you. But that's only if there's not something else you want to be doing at the feast.

Anne kept up her performance as she considered her options. She had a lot of work ahead, and she better start by making sure she was reasonably safe. So before she started any scheme, she turned her gaze to the ladies. Let the shiny fish admire her a bit longer, she needs to know if there are sharks in the water, before she dives in to net a good catch.

---

Meaning: of all the rolls you kindly offered, I'm going to start with #2, identifying possible threats. Once Anne has assessed them (or failed to spot a super obvious enemy), she'll check out the males on offer, then make a move.


So that's 2, +2 for Adept at Courtly Intrigue, perhaps also +1 for Raised at Burgundy Court, since this is courtly conflict? With no Pool dice for now, I'm keeping them for later. Is this correct? Shall I roll?
This message was last edited by the player at 11:01, Wed 21 July 2021.

The rules are unclear about it, but I think you normally only add one trait, if applicable. It's not obviously stated though. Let's try it with only one trait for the first session and then review wether it's too hard or not.

Anne's eyes darted around the assembly, looking for the telltale signs of a snake in the grass.

Not that long ago, a miscalculation in one of her little games had earned her the wrong enemies at court. She had underestimated the wrath of a certain Countess, and that had led to her being sent to Le Tart. She was in no mood to endure something like that again, so she was making sure she didn't repeat the mistake...

---

Then I'll use my pool of 4, +2, +2 for Adept at Courtly intrigue. 8 dice in total.

Anne de Arras rolled 19 using 8d6 ((3,3,1,1,1,2,2,6

That looks like a success? Shall I let you narrate it and take +1 for my pool then?

I think at the moment I'm perfectly happy to be pottering around the outskirts and reacting to the other players, at least for a round of posts longer - I usually use my first few posts to get a bit more into my character's voice, and get an idea about what her aims (if anything) are going to be at this little shindig. I may take you up on the roll in a bit though.

Gerhard recognized the truth of the man's words at once, and his eyes betrayed a grim recognition in at least the basics of what had happened at Agincourt, as nearly every fighting man would.

But the younger Knight had been caught somewhat off guard. He had assumed perhaps that this had something to do with a favor, like squiring a family member or a message from a friend of his father.

But no, this openness from the older soldier had blindsided him and it took Gerhard a few long moments through the haze of the wine to process it.

Was he so transparent? Did he wear his troubles so openly? Or was this man in all his experience more perceptive of these things?

Gerhard took a breath and opened his mouth as if he was about to answer, paused, closed his mouth again and was silent as his eyes gradually fell to the ground in front of him. Eyes that gradually became wet with tears, although they did not run down his cheek and they were easily missed in his current state and the failing light.

"I..." He began, but his voice failed him.

He took a moment and mastered himself once more, his voice more confident now. "I was at Ghent, eight years ago now." He affirmed, then gave a sad sort of chuckle and shook his head. "I was seventeen." He sighed. "Still a squire."

He thought about trying to explain any number of the things that weighed on his mind, every day, and the things that sometimes invaded his dreams.

He could dredge up one of dozens of memories, some vivid, some so terrible that he tried to banish them the moment that they arrived on the periphery of his thoughts. Which ones? Was this the place to discuss them? Would his own demons even compare to what this old veteran had endured at Agincourt? Gerhard was still more or less whole of body. Who was he to complain when this man had obviously  been maimed?

He realized that the older Knight was patiently waiting. How long has Gerhard been lost in his own thoughts? He had no idea.

He managed to meet the man's gaze once more, the pain in his eyes mixed with a strange sort of gratitude. "I squired for Gaspar de Durtain in that campaign, and he was always honest with me about what it was to go to war. But even he was shocked, I think, at what we found there." He licked his dry lips. "I should have attended more closely...but how? How can you prepare a man, a boy, for such things with mere words? I wonder if it can be done at all, or if it can only be..." He searched for the word. "Endured."

He let out a deep sigh. "Please, tell me sir if you will. How did you manage all these long years?"

It struck him now that this man before him  was likely gutting people on the battlefield and watching his own friends die before Gerhard's own father had grown his first whiskers.

In reply to Anne de Arras (msg # 13):

Yes! Success. If you let me narrate I can put my own twist on it (basically a moderate success) but you gain a die to your pool. Otherwise you can seize full control over your success but not get a dice added to your pool. Good roll! I'll narrate your success later!

I'll let you narrate, my pool is so small I can hardly wash my feet in it.

Anne d’ Arras, you notice that one of the younger ladies (Marie) in the conversations you have to take part in is only ever talking about her needlesork, and the horses, and taking care of her husband after a hard day of work around the manor. She is also showing early signs of pregnancy. She seems innocent as a dove. This is unlike the lady Catherina who you notice asking very pointed questions about topics that most ladies are not interested in. Through manipulation she’s able to reveal information about holdings and their weaknesses from the slightly intoxicated nobles. It is quite impressive, and she can keep her motivations mostly hidden.

Gerhard, the old knight looks at you with sympathy in his eyes. “Times are changing.”, he sais ruefully, “too quick often to follow. We knights are being written out of history by a pen dipped in gunpowder.” He stays silent for a bit, collecting his thoughts. “How to keep going? How do I hold on? I pray to the heavenly father who never changes and trust in the knightly vows I have taken.” His eyes are wet with emotion. “If the knights are to become history, let’s not let them be forgotten by it, but let us show them what courage is, and honour. These two never change.”

At this point he’s shaking a bit, visibly exhausted by emotion and age. “And talk about it,” he says as he calms down. “Don’t keep it to yourself. Even if it is only in confession, you need to talk about what troubles you, or you will be a prisoner of the war in your own head.”

Anne smiles slily to herself, glad to confirm her initial assessment of Marie d'Hainaut. She had sized her up at Le Tart, where the poor girl didn't understand one single thing of what was going on. Not even that time the daughter of the Duchesse was seen sneaking out of the Abbess' chambers half-naked, sweet little Marie had thought it had been some sort of special penance. Sure it is, dear friend, let us pray for her soul; by the way, I hear you are betrothed to a certain nobleman? My word, nothing would make me happier than to accompany you into that new stage of your life... Oh, I would absolutely renounce my vows and abandon this holy place at once for you; aren't you my best friend, Mariette, after all?

Her smile fades slowly as she notices the lady Catherina doing her rounds, asking her questions, sinking her claws into the tipsier knights. Now that was a subtle wench if she ever saw one. One to watch out for. Competitor, potential ally; in the end, there could be only one. She made a mental note to keep tabs on Catherina.

Her assesment of the ladies complete, Anne turned her attention to the menfolk on display. Her eyes surveyed the coats of arms, the insignia, the faces; looking for famous lineages, recognisable traits, signs of wealth and influence. Who here was a power to be reckoned with... and/or a tasty piece of prey?

---

The Powers That Be:

1) Let's say that finding or recognizing someone really important is gonna be rather difficult in a local feast. I'm only going to give you 1 die for that.

So, I think this will be 1 + 1 (Raised in Burgundy court) + 5 =  7 dice.

15:05, Today: Anne de Arras rolled 30 using 7d6 with rolls of 3,5,4,5,2,6,5.  Spotting interesting gentlemen.

...And that was an unmitigated disaster.

This message was last edited by the player at 14:09, Fri 23 July 2021.

Gerhard listened to the older Knight carefully, but struggled to comprehend the scope of what he was saying.

Warfare had always been warfare. To his limited understanding, it had been going on in much the same way since the time of Christ. Certainly the fashions changed, the power of the various factions involved. But warfare itself? Was that possible?

And the advice was sound, even if the answer was predictable and of little comfort. The priests he had spoken to had no idea what to tell him, and how could they? From within their safe and beautiful cloisters. Some had no idea what it was to even do a days work, much less to fight in a battle.

But speaking to others, other men who had gone to war. He did see the wisdom in that if he could some how preserve his reputation while doing so. Even these scant few seconds had helped in a way he had not expected, and he nodded in thanks.

"I will remember it, and God grant me the strength to live as long as you have so that I might pass it on." He replied with another glance to the floor. "I am Gerhard de Colmar...might I know yours? And perhaps I might be permitted to send you a letter around Christmas to see how you and your family fare?

Helena continued to watch as the seconds trotted past; she had little inclination to return to her table, given that of its inhabitants, half had been leering at her retreating form, while the other half were plotting ways to sink daggers into it. If she were lucky, the latter were only metaphorical.

Her current occupation was, at the very least, more interesting than the conversation on offer. She was a fairly keen watcher of people herself (one had to be as a woman in a man's world, both to avoid trouble, and also because few were willing to volunteer the information willingly), but she rarely had the opportunity to observe another doing the same. A small part of her enjoyed the feeling of sudden power, of seeing something that she shouldn't, of knowing and not being known.

I suppose this is what Acteaon felt, although my target is nowhere so divine.

Mindful of the fate of the legendary hunter, she nonetheless kept her eyes on the target for a further minute or so. The Lady de Arras seemed to have a good grip on the court, and her expression betrayed at least some triumph at that knowledge, although judging by the hardening of the features that followed, it was not as complete as she would have liked.

Not quite there, are you? Close, perhaps, but not close enough for your liking. You're not the only wolf amid the flock, are you?

Truth be told, she couldn't claim much greater knowledge or insight than her target might, despite having been resident for a little longer. She wasn't invited to the regular soirees, nor sought after by knights and nobles, seldom seen and even less often noticed. It suited her, to be honest - her worth was of that of disinterest, of having no interest beyond that which she paid for, and her lack of interest afforded her a security that those above could not rely upon.

I am but a mouse below their feet, scuttling unnoticed and feeding from scraps. To bite would do little more than attract attention, and so I scuttle on...

She suspected her father would be a little less pleased at that particular animal comparison. If pushed, he'd probably favour an oxen, or a hardy goat; useful, but seemingly unthreatening. Something to discuss later, perhaps...

As she continued to observe, reluctant to return to her place, she realised her eyes had slid away from her target's expression a little, viewing more generally the elegance of her neck, the way the light played against the muscles and cords and threw them into sharp relief, and...

Don't.

She caught her breath, and dragged her gaze away. A few seconds of deep breaths, and she had control once more.

You know where those paths lead.

She shook her head gently, hoping that there wasn't a passing servant to see her moment of internal torment, and clenched her hand tight until the nails began to dig into her palm.

Enough watching. Go back to the table and do what you're here to do. They've set more than enough traps for you to fall into without you inventing a few more of your own.

Composing herself and re-applying her smile, she gently swept back into view and returned to her table.

Great roleplaying one and all. Let's see how we are going forward. I think a few rolls are in order before I move the story somewhat.

First off, no roll, but a contact to note down for Gerhard de Colmar. The old knight of Luxembourgh identifies himself as Clovis of Sylva, and gives you the needed information for correspondence.

Secondly, also without a roll, but resolving one of her rolls, Anne d'Arras finds that of the knights that show promise for her plans, none are available. Those that show promise seem happily married. Nothing to immediately be able tot take advantage off or get rid of. After this evening these people are returning home anyway.

Thirdly, let's make a roll for Helena of Ghent to see if this evening and the talks at the table in the background have gotten her any new deals or opportunities. Failure in the roll will not hurt her (but I will tie it in to the developing story somehow) and succeeding at the roll will give her new opportunities to take advantage off if she wants. I'm only gonna give one die, not because it's hard, but because it's not really that important. It will give her something to do either way.

And fourthly, Roland de Sergius, a certain Lady Catharina has sent a servant to you with a note that she would very much like a dance. (You have gotten multiple of these kinds of notes from noble ladies.) If you look over, you see that she is elegantly dressed, in a blue velvet dress that seems to shimmer like rippling water when she moves, with green embroidery mimicking leaves and vines. You also notice, but it might be the wine, one of the male servants always looking hastily away once your eyes cross. He seems about your age, with dark blonde curly hair and deep brown eyes. He comes across as shy, but then again, he is one of the servants. Among the things you hear people talking about at the table you hear a very drunk knight tell a very tall tale, about how during a hunt he saw what looked like a little girl riding a wild boar in the woods. He tried to follow them but he quickly lost their trail. The others blow it off as a drunken tale, asking him how much he had drank before going on the hunt. He's so drunk that he starts laughing as well once someone fills his cup again.

Roland softly chuckles to himself when he reads the note. Although he is involved already, maintaining appearances was important (as much as he didn't like to maintain a lie). And so, he would share a dance with the lady.

Dice Pool - 5 + 2 (Representative of a long convalescent Flemish wool merchant) +1 = 8

23:27, Today: Helena of Ghent rolled 25 using 8d6 ((1,5,1,5,5,4,1,3))

Why do I get the sense that I've now wasted all my good fortune on this initial roll?

Under the circumstances, I'm happy to take a dice for my pool, if that works for your GMness?

Gerhard left the older Knight feeling confident that with the information he now possessed, that a letter would reach him come the holidays.

Gerhard was passingly literate, but seldom found the need to write. As such he was already contemplating how he might dictate a letter to a Scribe so as not to make a mess of any expensive parchment.

This would be a newer experience for him, and whole he normally exchanged letters with his parents a few times a year, he was already contemplating the potential of reaching out to a few of the men he had fought alongside those eight years ago.

The talk had sobered him, and Gerhard looked more alert and less dour as he rejoined the festivities. Indeed he almost looked taller as he rejoined his table, the man with the symbol of his Order moving off for his dance at about the same time.

Perhaps it was this renewed sobriety that allowed him to notice the pretty young woman looking covertly over the Knights assembled around him, and he met her eyes briefly in passing for a half second.

He looked away, politely, but glanced back curiously a few long moments later to see where her attention was directed.

Anne was annoyed.

Her huntress’ instincts seemed to be failing her tonight, as she watched the game gathering around their watering hole, all of them beyond the reach of her crossbow. It was made worse by the sight of a certain falcon, diving to pick prey right under Anne’s very nose. She hadn’t been paying attention to her anymore, focused as she was on the males, but the scent trail was clear enough: the Golden Fleece knight she had noticed before was reading a little piece of parchment, and whatever was written there seemed to amuse him. Anne’s gaze followed the servant who had delivered it, all the way back to her source, and sure enough it was her, the shiny blur of blue velvet across the crowded room.

Poacher.

Sending a servant with a written note instead of oral instructions was quite a bold statement: it meant she didn’t mind leaving proof, and it was an obvious way to advertise the fact she was literate. Unusual and dangerous. Perhaps a former Tartienne nun like herself?

Anne resisted an impulse to step in and snatch away the knight. Too soon; no point in revealing herself as a rival before she was within striking distance. Rashness like that was what landed her in Le Tart in the first place. She stayed where she was, and grabbed another goblet of wine from a passing servant, hiding her sharp smile behind it. Game on.

And when the pewter rim was lowered again, there was another knight stealing a glance at her from the middle distance. Perhaps it was the wine, but Anne allowed herself an unveiled critical assessment.

A big bull of a man he was, a few years older than her, but not in his thirties yet; wearing a nice doublet not in the Burgundian fashion, so a foreigner perhaps; with the shapely calves of a dancemaster or a keen jouster; most probably the latter, going by the his arming sword, an odd sight in such circumstances. She couldn’t see any coat of arms, which might be the reason she had overlooked him during her first male-auditing pass.

Anne took a few more seconds than necessary, to make a point about her interest; after which she looked away at nothing in particular, and casually captured the silk veil that hanged from her turret-tip, twisting it between two fingers.

Gerhard did not have much to recommend him among the various men attending the festival.

The quality of his cloth and his general lack of ornamentation would suggest that he was not especially wealthy, and what's more he often came off as brutish in both temperament and appearance.

If he did have any advantage, it was in his size which some women found attractive, and in that he possessed a sort of brooding, dangerous air. Even if he proved not especially clever or charming, he did not seem the sort to be trifled with.

When he met Anne's gaze it was with eyes darkened by lack of sleep and hardened against the world, and a mild curiosity, almost as if he recognized his own deficiencies and was trying to work out why she was taking notice of him at all.

As if to punctuate his thoughts, he cocked his head very slightly as they looked at each other, a vaguely amused, vaguely conspiratorial expression that suggested that he recognized that she was bored by her current company, or that she had been disappointed in the festivities thus far.

As Anne and Gerhard lock eyes the night progresses. (Feel free to keep roleplaying, or have a conversation with each others as players (in chat or the PM thread) as to what you want to accomplish in this scene and make a summary.

Roland starts dancing with the Lady in Blue, who introduces herself as Catharina. She asks what a knight of the Golden Fleece is doing in this place.

Helena on the other hand has conversations with the other merchants in the area. She's hearing that some shepherds are getting upset about increased wolf activity and that they are unable to give much wool if the wolves keep eating the sheep. The merchant in case seems to be willing to give up on that village since "it's not worth the effort and resources I put into it". If a certain merchant would be able to fix this problem with a certain set of knights or something like that, well, there would be a chance of gaining more wool income. "Some of the hunters there say these wolves are not normal wolves. That there is a larger, smarter wolf with them. Some think witchcraft or devilry is at stake.", the merchant says. "Not surprising! Another says. The Count fled on accusation of witchcraft! Who knows what kind of evil old forces have been awakened!". "Bah, superstitions truly!", you hear from behind you as the castellan himself joins your conversation. "So, besides the tell of old wives' tales, is everything else to your agreement? I hope you will find this county ripe for investment! Together, I believe we can make these lush, wooden hills a paradise for all!"

Anne's eyes travel from Gerhard's to the irritating blur of blue velvet, now slowly moving around the room in a stately basse danse, by the side of a Golden Fleece. She had a good eye, the minx, and she knew how to get her way. Anne wondered if that Catherina had spotted her, just like Anne had spotted her. Perhaps not; the wench had kept busy. If so, there was nothing to be gained by making herself obvious.

Then her eyes followed the booming voice of the castellan to the other side of the room. Le Flamand was talking to some merchants and other rich plebeians, judging by the quality of their clothes. Amongst them was some blonde, which Anne could only see in profile. Either the wife of one of the merchants, dressed for the one in a lifetime chance to dine with a would-be Count; or somebody's young daughter, dressed for the once in a lifetime chance to slip into the bed of a would-be Count. Good luck, little one, she thought, averting her eyes but making a mental note of it. Not now, though; she had almost unrestricted access to the castellan thorough Marie. If the move was ever required, she would find a discreet way.

That giant of a man across the room was still there, trying to attract her attention with a gesture of his head. Anne couldn't help but smile. It was almost like watching a tamed bear do a courtly bow. Her fingers let go of the silk veil and came to rest on her chest, a finger-width above the neckline of her kirtle. Come hither.

In reply to The Powers That Be (msg # 28):

Roland chuckles at the lady's question. "Although I am a Knight of the Golden Fleece, my family has been here for quite a while - I wanted to make an appearance and introduce myself to the new lord, should I get the chance to meet with him."

If Anne was accustomed to subtle gestures and delicate social intricacies, she was bound to be disappointed by Gerhard.

Some horses were responsive to their riders, sensitive to every shift of weight, the tension in a leg, the lifting of a rein.

Others were "hard in the mouth", they needed to be kicked, the bit pulled and they needed the occasional spur.

Gerhard was the latter.

He made his way over after finally catching the hint, a small knot of revelers growing silent and parting as he passed along the periphery of the dance floor.

As he approached he gave her a slight nod. "I don't believe we've been introduced...Gerhard de Colmar." He bowed slightly at the waist. "Can I bring you anything? Some wine perhaps?" He seemed to openly glance about for a chaperone.

There were few phrases that could make Helena's ears prick up after this long of a formal dinner. Her name was one, along with some of the more usual insults that were whispered behind her back, but aside from that, struggling wool merchant was perhaps the most obvious.

Hmmm, what have we here? A gap in the market, at least potentially. Tell me more...

The facade of demure charm held up as she listened further, which was apt, as the internal expression would have been a somewhat lupine smile herself.

And superstitions to boot! Although whether this is actually wolves, or a smart operator looking to drive up their supply prices, I don't know.

If that were the case, she wouldn't be surprised. The wool trade was potentially very lucrative, but such potential riches brought competition with them, as well as potentially high overheads to keep a network in business. As such, it wasn't surprising that the less scrupulous among her peers often tried to pressure their suppliers into lowering their prices or being blacklisted.

Stupid fools, the lot of them! Freezing out a genuine gouger, fair enough, but if you're forcing your stockmen to sell their flocks for mutton because you fancy a few groats off your fleeces, don't be surprised if they bite you when times are bad.

As the castellan moved into the conversation, she leant back in her chair and surveyed the scene, thinking intently.

That might be worth a look, but I'll need to tread carefully. Just because they look drunk doesn't mean that they're not capable of setting traps. But if this is genuine, and I can swing things around our way, I can definitely find a use of a few more bales, if not here, then perhaps in England...

She snapped out of her reverie just as the castellan's attention moved around to her. As the only woman at the table who wasn't on the arm of a merchant, she tended to be the last person to whom attention was paid. She smiled back at the castellan, and nodded.

'I'm sure my father will be more than satisfied, my lord. You can be assured of a glowing report back to him for your continued benevolence and understanding.'

Especially, as it happens, if you're willing to lend me a few men who aren't afraid of wolves. 

As Roland and Catherina are dancing Lady Catharina nods to Roland. "Impress me with this dance, dear knight, and I might introduce you.", she says with a smile as you dance.
This will be an opportunity to impress her (and others) with your dancing skills! As stated before it's a slow dance, a Bassadance, a low dance. Feet stay on the ground, everything stately and proper. As the evening progresses, maybe there'll be some more modern, fast and lively dances, like a Galliard. So roll for dancing. Your description (and your choice in wether to do a monologue of victory or get an extra pool die) will influence how you succeed (or fail.) I give you one extra die for this.

Anne and Gerhard are also dancing, but this does not need to become a contest (unless they want to). They probably can use this time to keep talking, get to know each other, etc. I don't see a need for a roll. If you just want to be part of the scenery for this moment in role-play that's good too.

Helena and the merchants are taking their opportunities to stand in good graces with the Castellan by conversation. A lot of flattering remarks are given about the feast. The food, the wine and the music gets praised, as do the looks of the Castellan and his family. Should Helena in some way want to try and get in even better standing with the Castellan in this conversation then she can describe how she intends to do this and roll for it. If successful again, the choice is there for a monologue of victory or an extra die to the pool. If you let me narrate your victory the chances will be that your good graces with the Castellan might also gain you some enemies with the merchants at the table.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:40, Fri 06 Aug 2021.

Anne pretended to be looking at something else until the bear reached her, at which point she gave him a courtly smile, as if she was mildly surprised to be accosted.

"I share your disbelief, herr Gerhard," she replied, noticing the Teutonic accent and the family name. Naturally, she didn't know where exactly was Colmar, beyond the general knowledge that it was somewhere to the east, in Imperial lands. Peculiar that he was so far from home. Perhaps he was on some knightly pilgrimage, or looking to be employed by some higher lord?

"I am Anne d'Arras de Valois-Bourgogne," she said with subtle emphasis on her House, giving him a couple of seconds to process that. Surely he would understand the implication? He would have heard of the Valois of Burgundy, even being a foreigner? She would give him the chance to acknowledge that; spelling it out for him would have been borderline offensive, as if she thought he was simple.

Pause over, she smiled at him again, appraisingly. His eyes were searching, perhaps looking for a watchful mother or husband. She waved a negligent hand towards the castellan's table.

"I am in this charmingly rural county of Rethel these days to accompany my good friend Marie d'Hainaut in her new life as a married woman. Perhaps I shall stay and perhaps I shall leave, mostly depending on the local attractions. I hear game is abundant in these lands, and I confess to being an inveterate huntress."

That last one was punctuated by a slightly raised eyebrow.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:06, Wed 04 Aug 2021.

For all his lack of social grace, the Valois-Bourgogne name landed on his ear like the beat of a drum. His recognition was obvious, and while he was not struck dumb by the revelation his posture, tone, even his expression shifted in a sort of subconscious acknowledgement.

"Truly?" He answered, and returned a fainter version of her smile. "I was in the service of the former Count, and have been...inherited, as it were, by your friends new Husband."

He glanced to couple in emphasis before his focus returned to Anne. "I have only been in Rethel for a few years, but I can assure you that the hunting in the Ardennes is excellent." He stated confidently.

"The forest is old, and unforgiving" he watched a red faced man pass nearby with an intense, scruntizing look before he continued. "But it is these qualities that make hunting there such a joy. It is no patch of meadow where the keepers bait their take charges, but a wilderness worthy of the name."

He rested his fore arms on his sword belt and moved to stand more side by side to watch the dancers and get out of the way of a passing couple.

"Where have you come from? How was your journey here?" He asked her

"Truly," she answered with a self-satisfied smile.

And she made a note of the 'former Count' formula. That Gerhard was already discounting his former master; whatever his loyalties might have been, it was obvious he wasn't exactly yearning for the return of Charles de Nevers. Neither did he sound particularly thrilled about the Castellan, but, interesting tidbit, he knew the county well.

"Wilderness everywhere, then, it would seem," she agreed, or seemed to agree. And talking of wilderness...

"Oh, it was quite an exhausting and incovenient voyage, I assure you," she said, wrinkling her nose. "Across most of northern Burgundy and western Lorraine by carriage, along treacherous paths I much rather have done on horseback, had it not been against decorum. Then down the Meuse in a frightfully overladed barge that seemed ready to capsize at any moment, and yet more tedious carriage-days from the Meuse to the Aisne."

She clasped her hands together piously, holding them against her chest.

"But all this I do gladly for my dear Mariette, just like I renounced my nunly vows to be here with her. We were both noviciates at Le Tart, and I fervently believe Marie would have been a great abbess one day, hadn't the path of marriage been chosen for her."

A beatific smile to go with the lie.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:48, Wed 04 Aug 2021.

Gerhard, do you believe e her or are you skeptical? If the latter, Anne should roll. I'll let Gerhard choose wether she gets one, two or three GM dice for that task.

Gerhard has no reason to disbelieve her at this point. It's an innocent enough lie.

-

"I believe you will find that even Rethel is more lively than an Abbey." He replied with a small but genuine smile. "She is fortunate to have you then. Travel is arduous enough for men, but for a well born lady coming to a new region, well, I am sure she must be grateful."

He was silent for a moment, watching the dancers, when he seemed to feel a sudden sense of freedom. It was probably not the wine, he had sobered up quite a bit. Maybe his previous unburdening conversation with the older Knight had put him in a certain mood.

"So you ride and hunt?" He asked in a more familiar, almost playful tone, as if he did not quite believe here. "Does your fair Lady share your pursuits? Or do you usually ride with the men?" He asked with a glance to her, a downward glance, given their height difference.

Anne swallowed a spicy comment about Le Tart, which was many things and few of them good. If the foreigner hadn't heard about the abbey, all the better. She smiled along, playing her role. She did bristle, however at his 'your Lady'.

"My dear friend Marie," she said primly, "who is of excellent birth if not a member of my House, is a sweet dove, as befits a wife, and of a weaker constitution, not suited for any brisk exercise at all. I do worry, looking at her, and pray that may God grant her an easy labour, being such a slight and delicate woman."

A little pause to mark the return to Anne's favorite topic: Anne.

"I do, indeed, ride and hunt, with hound and falcon; I am a passable chess player and a pleasant singer, I am told, and nobody ever found fault with my playing of the lute," she recited, ommitting the bits about reading and writing; men found that intimidating. "And all of these things I have done with men, naturally, at the splendid court of my august father the Duke, where the finest gentlemen of Burgundy learn their manners and ways. Oh," she added, as if she had forgotten and only just, suddenly, remembered: "I am also a keen dancer."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:25, Wed 04 Aug 2021.

Gerhard could not help but notice that Anne's hackles raised at the notion of being some how subservient to her friend, and he glanced one again in the direction of the Castellan's new wife as Anne pointed out the woman's "weaker constitution".

He then listened, with a sort of amiable and amused expression as she listed her various hobbies, but he chuckled again as she wrapped up. "I have no reason to doubt that you are all these things, of course." He assured her. But I do ask that you allow me the honor of seeing the last one for myself." He offered his arm and angled towards the dance floor.
This message was lightly edited by the player at 15:07, Thu 05 Aug 2021.

Anne regaled Gerhard with a coquettish smile, glad that he was finally taking some hints. Well, everyone knew the Germans were of hardy if unsubtle stock, so said all the Latin sources she had been made to study at Le Tart. Perhaps all it took was careful and adequate taming; perhaps not with subtlety like one trains a prized hunting falcon, but more like like the calculated bluntness employed with a dancing bear.

How apt.

"Certainly, herr Gerhard, that I can grant you," she said, resting her dainty hand in his paw. She slid towards the central space cleared as a dancefloor, held her head high, adopted the majestic forward-balance that the dance required.

Certainly not her favorite or the most exciting, but damned if Anne was not going to impress the paysans of the provinces with proper Burgundian dancing from a proper Burgundian lady of the ruling house.

She nodded gracefully, curtsied, and floated forwards in rhythm with the music...

Anne, if you want to turn heads, please roll an appropriate trait. I will grant you 2 bonus dice, this should not be too hard.

2 dice + 1 Raised at Burgundian court

16:42, Today: Anne de Arras rolled 5 using 3d6 with rolls of 1,2,2.  Making an impression at the ball.

(Incidentally, would be super useful if the dice roller was set to d6 and "Record Each Die" by default, pretty please?)

Do you ant to do a "monologue of victory" or do you want me to narrate your success and have you gain a +1 to your dicepool?

A man Gerhard much admired had once told him. "No man really enjoys dancing, but pretty girls like to dance, and so you dance."

The young Knight was not an outstanding dancer in and of himself. He was not graceful, but he had an excellent sense of the position of his own body.

This meant that Anne was in no danger of being stepped on or obstructed, and what's more, he was more than happy to be the background against which Anne might be displayed. Like the rough hewn stone blocks surrounding a window of stained glass.

While she floated, he encouraged, and where she flourished, he kept her steady. If there was any obvious flaw it was that his stature and garment obscured her to a full third of the assembled at any given time.

I'll let you do it, I need to replenish my pool after that previous fiasco.

I think at this point she's going to keep her powder dry. At some point later, she'll probably call in favours to the Castellan if she needs, but she's generally out of her element here and tends to prefer to do her actual business in private (where she can remind the Castellan of the obligations he has to her father without making it public knowledge). In the meantime, I suspect she'll remain polite and not take the risk, just watching the rest of the evening go by and keeping her ears perked up.

Roland has only spent his time dancing with a certain lord, well after the others in their manor have gone to sleep. And so while he tries his best to impress the lady, he's always felt more difficult sharing a dance with his lover more than anyone.

14:20, Today: Roland de Sergius rolled 13 using 3d6 with rolls of 4,3,6.  Dancing with the Lady.

ROLAND

The Powers That Be:

As Roland and Catherina are dancing Lady Catharina nods to Roland. "Impress me with this dance, dear knight, and I might introduce you.", she says with a smile as you dance.
This will be an opportunity to impress her (and others) with your dancing skills! As stated before it's a slow dance, a Bassadance, a low dance. Feet stay on the ground, everything stately and proper. As the evening progresses, maybe there'll be some more modern, fast and lively dances, like a Galliard. So roll for dancing. Your description (and your choice in wether to do a monologue of victory or get an extra pool die) will influence how you succeed (or fail.) I give you one extra die for this.

Roland de Sergius:

Roland has only spent his time dancing with a certain lord, well after the others in their manor have gone to sleep. And so while he tries his best to impress the lady, he's always felt more difficult sharing a dance with his lover more than anyone.

14:20, Today: Roland de Sergius rolled 13 using 3d6 with rolls of 4,3,6.  Dancing with the Lady.

The Lady Catharina seems to be more fragile than a certain lord you know, and your holding of her a bit too rough for her liking. Additionally, I'm assuming your normal dancing partner does not wear a dress (I could be wrong here) and you step on her dress a few times. She graciously finishes the dance with you awkwardly, but excuses herself to go look for another dancing partner afterwards. Any invites to any exclusive balls she might organize will most likely not be sent to you after this experience.

---

ANNE AND GERHARD

The Powers That Be:

Anne, if you want to turn heads, please roll an appropriate trait. I will grant you 2 bonus dice, this should not be too hard.

Anne de Arras:

2 dice + 1 Raised at Burgundian court

16:42, Today: Anne de Arras rolled 5 using 3d6 with rolls of 1,2,2.  Making an impression at the ball.

Gerhard de Colmar:

A man Gerhard much admired had once told him. "No man really enjoys dancing, but pretty girls like to dance, and so you dance."

The young Knight was not an outstanding dancer in and of himself. He was not graceful, but he had an excellent sense of the position of his own body.

This meant that Anne was in no danger of being stepped on or obstructed, and what's more, he was more than happy to be the background against which Anne might be displayed. Like the rough hewn stone blocks surrounding a window of stained glass.

While she floated, he encouraged, and where she flourished, he kept her steady. If there was any obvious flaw it was that his stature and garment obscured her to a full third of the assembled at any given time.

Gerhard's actions make me wonder if there would be such a thing as a helping mechanic. The way he described it just means that he lets her be the star, which for this scene seems well enough, but I'll have to think about an appropriate mechanic. In Lady Blackbird players can each give one (1) helping die from their pool if they can describe how they are helping (as Gerhard did wonderfully unprompted), so I might default to that next time.

In any case, Anne is making an impression at the ball. The people love her. The grace and poise with which she's dancing turn heads and becomes the topic of many conversations. There even is some applause and people want to talk with you even more than before, praising you for your elegance.

Suddenly you hear a voice say "Yes, that is wonderful! I did not know they taught you such worldly things at Le Tart. Although ... if the rumors are true, there's probably even more inappropriate dances they thought you there, is it not true?" The voice belongs to a woman in a bleu velvet dress that now has your full attention. Lady Catharina, unhappy that your dance went so much better than her fiasco of a dance, seeks a chance to bring you down a peg. (take your +1 to your pool. You are welcome ;) )

This will be a conflict for sure. She seeks to bring down your reputation through slander. If you want to let her, this is just the consequence of your letting me narrate your victory. If you want to engage, roll 1 die + an applicable trait + any pool dice you wish to wager.

---

HELENA
Helena, mainly observing the goings on sees the dancing and both of the events happening there. A lot of talk goes about dancing, and quality of dress, etc. One merchant, fully red in the face by his consumption of the strong burgundy wine, suggests you dance with his son, whom he slaps on the back firmly. The son, clearly uncomfortable with this, smiles politely and awkwardly at you. "Father, stop it, you are drunk.", he whispers to him.

He turns to you. "While my father is drunk and not entirely in control of his mouth," he says to you, shooting a dark look at his father, "I would not be opposed for a dance with you, miss Helena, but only if you truly desire so." The son is not altogether unhandsome, and a son of a merchant rich enough to sit at your table. They are smiths who aim to sell their goods in these villages. Razors, plates, cups, ... all finely crafted and engraved.

---

ROLAND (AGAIN)
The Castellan, politely trying not to laugh at the antics at the merchants table, removes himself from the conversation and goes around, finding Roland and seeing if Roland is in need of some comforting. "Ah yes, Lady Catharina.", he says, "she's not a kitten to be taken without gloves, am I right?".

---

What do you all do?

Anne's smile turned from the merely formal and required for such a performance-style dance, to one of genuine relief when she saw how unobtrusively Gerhard adapted to her moves and pace, to pure pleasure at the success of her, or their, performance.

About time someone showed these provincials how one dances at Burgundy court.

"Oh, you were too modest about your own dancing skills, dear sir," she purrs at Gerhard. It is a very polite lie, or perhaps no lie at all: sometimes the best dancer is the one who knows how to be led, instead of insisting on leading. Unconventional for a lady to lead, for sure, but then Anne fancied herself a very unconventional lady...


Anne turned slowly towards the voice, making it obvious she was in no hurry to answer such a petty interlocutor. When she finally faced Catharina, she squinted, as if the other woman was too small to be seen.

"Why, I shall gladly demonstrate more fine dances from my august father's court, if that pleases you," she starts in a regal tone, talking down to Catharina. Then she raises an ironic eyebrow. "But I fear, regarding rumours, you have me at a disadvantage: naturally you have heard about me, but I? Faith!, on mine life, I have never heard of you."

---

1 + 1 Pool + 1 Bastard daughter of the Duke = 3
14:36, Today: Anne de Arras rolled 13 using 3d6 with rolls of 6,1,6.  Sparring with Catharina.

Yes, take that, bitch! Now for that Victory Monologue...

---

In the dense silence around the dancefloor, you could hear a pin drop. But it was lady Catharina's jaw that fell, just as her face turned claret red.

"I- I am... m-my fa-family..." she stammered, drunk with rage. Her knuckles were as white as her face is crimson. Anne gave her an encouraging smile, like one does with a little child who's learning to speak.
"Yes, you are? Your family?" she says, nodding in mock sympathy. Some laughter broke here and there, amongst the less charitable noblemen.
"Y-you... you a-are..." muttered Catherina, the laughter and Anne's mockery further blocking her in a blinding fury.
"Oh, me now? I am your family?" Anne retorts, feigning delighted surprise.

At this, the room erupted in a roar, the assembly openly laughing at the blue-clad damsel.

Catharina took a step forward, perhaps ready to strike in anger, all decorum forgotten.  At the last moment she remembered herself, turned on her heels and made a furious beeline for the door...

... Only to collide with a page carrying wine. In a confusion of broken glass, stained velvet and tangled limbs, lady and servant land on the floor.

The room goes crazy as everyone, Castellan and merchants included, laugh and hoot their lungs out. Half crawling half running with tears in her eyes, Catherina beat an undignified exit stage, pursued by mockery.

Meanwhile, Anne curtsies to the audience, collecting a round of applause, hardly containing her own laughter.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:59, Sat 07 Aug 2021.

While Gerhard was focused on keeping up and displaying Anne, he found that despite the effort he had to out forth, the remnants of the wine, the talent of the musicians, and his enthusiastic dance dance partner combined to make the whole experience enjoyable.

He delighted in her subtle perfume and delicate features, the way her dress trailed behind her. He found a particular satisfaction in the way they found the rythm of the piece together, with both moving simultaneously and without any sort of lag after a change in direction.

The corner of his mouth turned up at the complement. "That's high praise, coming from a dancer such as yourself." he replied as they turned together about the floor, far more eyes on them now then there had been a few minutes before.

Perhaps dancing was not so bad...and the few times he had been forced or coaxed into it had been poor examples.

These thoughts vanished when Lady Catharina picked her fight.

Gerhart bore witness to the brutal rebuke.

It was like watching a drunk get beat about the ears by a sober pugilist. The baseless confidence in the attacker, the hazy realization that things are going poorly. The way Catharina was always seconds behind Anne in response, and then the crushing humiliation when she was forced to flee rather than endure any more punishment.

He refrained from the open mockery, at least until she collided with the servant,  when even he had to chuckle and shake his head at the comic scene.

He gestured to Anne with an open palm as she curtsied, the applause still sporadic as he escorted her off the floor in the waning chaos.

"That was...brutal" he told her as they reached the periphery. "What you did to that woman, not the dance." He clarified with a  faint smile. "But she was asking for it."

Roland sighs internally - he should have been better with the lady, though given his dances were late at night with his liege lord, he didn't exactly have lots of experience with a lady, much less one in a gown.



"Aye, that much is right. She isn't 'a kitten to be taken without gloves', as you so eloquently put it."

Flush with victory, dance and those two cups of wine, Anne retured Gerhard's smile with glittering eyes.

"Oh, that little slip of a girl, you mean? A small calf, not yet a doe, that thinks herself a huntress when she's scarcely worthwhile prey. Perchance a friend of yours? Do you happen to know her name, or whose plaything is she?"

The questions were kept casual, but Anne wasn't forgetting Catherina's deft movements, before the dance. Perhaps she outclassed her in a direct confrontation, but the blue velvet wench was a smooth operator - and Anne was now curious about her operation. Whatever she had been working on, she had seen Anne as a threat. So, worth investigating...
This message was last edited by the player at 14:09, Sun 08 Aug 2021.

As much as she'd hoped to avoid that particular aspect of the feast, Helena knew that such hopes were fleeting. She looked at the man before her up and down, and felt about the same level of interest than she did with any of the other potential husbands that had been put in front of her throughout her life. Namely, absolutely nothing.

Ah, well. I suppose it stops me from being labelled shrewish, and I can tell Mother that I'm doing my daughterly duties. Anyway, I suppose it could be worse. It could be the drunkard.

She smiled, albeit somewhat weakly, and nodded to her new dancing partner.

'Not opposed? Such high praise, the prospect of a dance with me is not so onerous as to completely turn your fancy?'

She realised that her words had been perhaps a little harsher than she had intended. She didn't really do playful very well.

Oh, be nice to the poor boy. How many times were you pushed into some unpleasant sqeaty clinch with a total stranger at the behest of one of your parents?

She sighed, and bowed her head to him.

'I jest, of course. I would be happy to accompany you in the next dance.'

Gesturing to the dance floor, she fixed a placid smile to her face and waited for a break to enter, definitely trying to ignore the small scene which seemed to have been playing out between the Duke's bastard and one of the court's more formidable gossips.

Remember, you're here to be a good girl, so only stamp on his feet if he starts to place his hands where they don't belong.

If she had any real choice in the matter, they and any other hands would belong nowhere near her, but such was the world in which she lived. You had to play the game at least a little if she wanted to be able to play it at all.

Is there any specific thing you want out of this interaction before I start roleplaying the scenes out? I have an idea for the young lad, but it's not set in stone.

Not really - I think she views this mostly as a necessity, and while she'll keep an eye out for a business opportunity or gossip, she's not actively looking for it. Mainly, she's just looking to get through the dance without breaking an ankle or having to break one to avoid being groped.

ROLAND

... and it is at that time that Catharina gets shut down viciously by Anne and makes a pitiful exit. The Castellan laughs in surprise. "Well, it looks like Anne has some gloves to handle Catharina.", he says and pats Roland on the shoulder firmly. "Anyway," he resumes, as the laughter subsides. "I hope you're having a good time at the festival otherwise? I am very appreciative of your presence. Do you intend to stick around? I can offer my hospitality to a knight of the fleece for however long is needed. Depending on how the people react to my taking over here, having someone with your authority on hand might be beneficial to the County."

---

HELENA


He introduces himself as Dietmar, and while his grip is strong (he is a smith), he guides you with respect in the dance. "I'll have to apologize for my father. He is ever on the lookout for me to find a wife. Having the drink in him doesn't help. Anyway, I heard you're in the cloth industry? At least the drunken old owl managed to tell me something of interest about you rather than just commenting on your fair looks. While we don't do much with cloth, we would be willing to help out and see if we can work together for shipments. They are generally very costly to pay for alone. Sharing the cost might be mutually beneficial. We've done this before with a previous merchant that came through. They called him Dour Durant. Have you heard of him?"

You have, and the emphasis on the words owl* and shipment in combination with that name seems no coincidence. They must be smugglers on the side too.

*technically the term owler was only coined hundreds of years later, but for the sake of the story lets make it a current term, but an obscure one.

---

ANNE AND GERHARD
Anne and Gerhard are the center of attention at the moment. They get to enjoy it, with people gushing at them and congratulating them. Nothing specific of note happens there, unless you want it to.

In reply to Anne de Arras (msg # 53):

Gerhard was unused to women speaking in such a way. It was nice in many respects, it seemed some how more honest. As if the veil of high born feminine mystery had been pulled back a bit to reveal that the fairer sex was not quite such a conundrum.

"Not a friend of mine, no." he told her, almost shoulder to shoulder now as they watched the aftermath of the retreat. Among the crowd he caught a glass raised in salute to their performance, mostly Anne's performance, and he returned it. "You have come to the wrong shop for gossip I'm afraid." he shrugged. "It should not hard to find out though...only a few eligible souls still left in Rethel, and the match makers are always busy."

He chuckled. "The arrival of a woman of your carriage will cause quite a stir, as I'm sure you already knew." he rubbed idly at a waxy looking scar just under his chin in thought. "A lot of changes in Rethel as of late. A lot of opportunity, in some ways." he trailed off

Anne chuckled softly, as she raised her glass in turn and curtsied to the admiring audience. She exchanged a couple of pleasantries with some minor gentlemen that approached her with sundry compliments.

"You have spent some significant time in Rethel, and yet you deny having ever set eyes on the little wench? Either you're the most faithful of married men, or a very poor liar," she teases Gerhard, with a sideways glance. Naturally, there were other possibilities, but not in polite company.

"But you are correct, her Gerhard. I did not come to you for gossip; in fact I did not come to you at all; you did," she purrs, regaling him with a smile to soften the taunt. She lightly places a hand around his forearm, signalling her firm intention to be led somewhere else.

"I spy your lord the noble Castellan over there, speaking to a knight sporting the insignia of my father's preferred order. I see no reason why we shouldn't join them, except out of modesty - and that would be out of place, considering my lineage and your... dancing skills," she smiles a mischievous smile.

Gerhard visibly bristled a bit at the insinuation, not in an angry way, but suggesting that he was sure to rise to his own defense. "Oh I never said that I had not seen her, but I have seen a few young women about during my three years here. We are not to starved here in Rethel that I feel the need to pounce on the first pretty thing that comes along." he assured her quietly as they began to move towards the Castellan, not quite arm in arm but near enough to it.

"We may be a fair distance from the courts of Brugges and Paris, but not all of us are...savages" He smirked at the last word as they drew nearer.

Anne chortled seeing Gerhard bristle.

"Oh, it might seem I have the right nerve! Have you been having your sinful way with the local maids all this time, my wicked sir? And yet, after three years of that lechery, you still haven't felt the urge to, ah, 'pounce on a pretty thing' like the lady Catherine? My, herr Gerhard, you must really be having the most enticing women in Brugges and Paris - nay, in the whole of Burgundy and France!, that you need not deign lower your standards as low as the little wench in blue. Truly a prodigy of manhood unrivalled since Lancelot!"

She was having real fun now, teasing the bear.

Helena's relief at Dietmar's apparent chivalry was shortlived when she realised what he actually wanted. This was, to say the least, not how she liked doing business, in the middle of a crowded room with goodness knows how many listening ears who might catch a part of the conversation. That, and she was trapped in such a discussion until the dance ended, for fear of dragging even more attention.

And this, Mother, is why I never liked these kinds of gatherings...

Still, cornered as she was, she had little choice but to play along, albeit doing her best to avoid committing to anything at this stage.

'And here I was hoping that you might have wished to dance solely for my company? You are lucky I am not easily affronted.'

Now that's a barefaced lie, there's a lot which affronts me, I just don't show it or let it affect my judgement.

'Still, in answer to your question, I can't say for certain, but it may be that my father may have made mention of such an individual, although whether we've ever done business with him is beyond me.'

Officially? Absolutely not. Unofficially? Better not ask.

Durant wasn't her first choice of contact, but in that particular avenue, she could hardly be picky when time was short and windows of opportunity began to swing shut. Still, she appreciated him for what he was, and he was certainly easier to work with than some of his peers, who tended towards braggadocio rather than any great skill.

'I could, if you wished, make a request to my father - his memory is prodigious, and he could probably tell you far more of such a man than I could. If I am to write to him, though, it might be easier and more timely if I could also include your proposal as well?'

As the music continued and she silently begged for the opportunity to retreat, her mind spun through the reasons why a family of smiths might want to hire a smuggler.

Gold, perhaps? Possible, but there are easier ways of getting that over water. Or...

She paused as a thought hit her, and it almost caused her to fall out of time with her partner. She adjusted as best she could, hoping that Dietmar wouldn't notice, as the cogs in her head sped up at the prospect.

God above! He can't be smuggling weapons? Can he?

In reply to Anne de Arras (msg # 61):

Gerhard laughed, deep and earnest, in part at the filthy tone of Anne's prodding but also at the ribald humor of the situation.

"You've found me out. And so quickly, I am in fact an unrepentant Satyr my dear." he admitted in an obvious comic, yet subdued way. Barely loudly enough for her to hear over the hustle and bustle of the crowd.

He shrugged. "What can I say? If it was only the pell and pulpit to look forward to every day, a man might go mad " for all his lack of courtly experience, it really was hard to tell if he was joking as they neared the Castellan. "Your most lady like face now..." He whispered as if she needed a reminder. "Or they might find us out."

Was he still drunk? He certainly did not feel drunk, but that was part of the allure of the vine, or so they said.

"Aye, it seems so," Roland says with a soft laugh, surprised at the pat on the shoulder. "I have family and friends in this area, truth be told, although your offer of hospitality is greatly appreciated." He took a swig of his drink, patting the other man on the back and smiling warmly at him.

ROLAND, ANNE & GERHARD


"Ah well, that's fine of course. But stick around. I've been thinking of organizing a hunt. You could join right?", he says while patting you on the shoulder. It is at that moment that Anne and Gerhard join the conversation. "Ah, talking about hunting!", the Castellan said. "Lady Anne here does like to hunt, and not only for men.", he says, as his eyes move over to sir Gerhard with a smile. "What say you. Will we not organize a hunt soon? We can all hunt together. I heard these hills are full of deer and boar. Pheasants too!"

HELENA


"That seems more than reasonable." Dietmar said. "I will talk to my father and you will write to yours once he gets back to you. This seems like a good deal."
As the dance continues, Dietmar goes on. "My apologies of making this all about business. Now that this business is over, I must say that you dance very well. I am enjoying this dance greatly."

He does not seem to be lying. He seems to like the dancing for just that, the dancing. There's no woeing or untoward flattery, no improper touches, but a very technically accurate dance, all according to the rules of dancing.

"Oh, please, monsieur le castellan, why would you shame me so?" Anne feigned outrage, but wiht a smile on her lips. "I am but a good Le Tartienne maid at heart, just as your lovely wife, and quite a sheep in wolf's clothing, really! I sincerely apologise," she said, unsincerely, "for the previous spectacle. I was forced into self-defence by that indecorous wench someone has unwittingly allowed into your otherwise delightful court. But yes, a hunt shall be lovely indeed! We were just discussing the abundance of game in the forest, ser Gerhard and I..."

Her glittering eyes move over to Roland, appraising. The Golden Fleece sparkled around his neck.

"We have not been introduced, dear sir, but I can see you are a trusted friend of my father. Do you hunt too, sir?"

Gerhard bowed slightly at the waist upon receiving the invitation. Having to momentarily remove himself from Anne's arm to do so. "I would be honored, of course, to accompany you on a Hunt your Grace." he assured the Castellan.

He did not seem terribly surprised at his slight jibe at Anne, although they had just met, she did not feign the doe eyed maiden.

And some small part of him did grow concerned. He had been quite serious about how wild the Ardennes had grown in the last year or so. There was always risk with these things, from falling off a horse to getting lost in the trackless hills. But as of late the animals themselves had been the rumored culprits.

He dipped his head to Roland. "We come full circle it seems" he told him, highlighting his attempt at conversation before he had been asked away earlier. It was just as well. They would have plenty of time to speak during the Hunt.

"Aye, a hunt sounds like fun - I suppose if my friend Lord Pepin de Aquitaine could help organize it, he'd be glad to help, and I'm sure my family could help as well."

Outwardly, Helena spent the rest of the round dancing perfectly ably, in a manner which would best be described as polite, with a smile on her face which would manage to satisfy the honour of all parties. Interally, however, she was anything but placcid.

Her first concern was the same thought which had almost lost her step, namely exactly what Dietmar and his side were hoping to transport. This, admittedly, was still a theoretical, and she could probably refuse to help if it turned out to be too hot for her tastes - owling was generally frowned upon, but supplying an insurrection was another matter.

The second, and the one which she already knew was going to gnaw at her, was exactly who knew about her links to the owlers, and how much they knew. True, there had always been rumours, and it was probably fairly well known among the small circle of owlers who worked in the area, but that was a big difference to people being able to accost her on the matter on the dance floor.

As she spun and weaved between the others, she wondered whether she had missed a trick by acknowledging the possibility of a link, and instead should have just blanked the conversation. Still, she'd bought some time, if nothing else.

God, and this is why I hate these damn things. It's absolute chaos, no one is behaving properly, and I'm both sore, stuffed and tired.

As the dance finally finished, she smiled and nodded to Dietmar, excusing herself with a quick pleasantry and returning to her table. Noticing that the group was a little less packed than before, she was relieved to not be the first to leave, and set about making her apologies in preparation for her departure. As she did so, she took one last look at the assembled company, and slightly shook her head, sighing internally.

Well, that's put the cat among the pigeons. A perfectly dratted night, I must say, full of other people spending my money, staring down my dress, and involving themselves in my affairs. If I didn't know any better, I'd suspect that the Almighty has been testing me tonight. At least Job was excused the dress code...