071 – Meeting the self-important

Steven found his experience with the local tailors to be just as disagreeable for him as Rox had found for her. On the other hand, Rox was able to assert herself sufficient to get one ‘tasteless’ gown made that she actually liked. She came home with two new gowns, and a few other pieces of clothing.

Journal of Steven Caplan: Day 114

The Tailors here are efficient and capable. But the formal costume they are building for me leaves much to be desired, by my own tastes. I look like a jester. Tomorrow we go before the Clan that seams to be in charge here.

We were told to make a bit of a scene, I presume without getting out of hand.

Caspian says he has magically given us the local language, but it may not last due to the various magic’s in the area interacting. We shall see. At any rate, I can understand the locals for the moment. 

Steven initially had to fight against laughing at their costumes. Rox wore a formal gown that looked made of Elizabethan Motley with a clashing translucent robe. Steven had baggy trousers that ballooned to just below his knees with cloth boots from there, and a crushed velvet vest over a linen shirt, again in colors that he would only have put together on a jester. Caspian was again in his despised formal.

The carriage ride was unremarkable, as they traveled around the mesa to the local equivalent of an office building and shown in. Steven whispered to Rox that the Swiss Guards at the Vatican would fit here without a second look. Rox responded that they would be the conservative looking ones here.

They were shown into a third floor room. The room was wider than it was deep, and on an outside wall. A curved table sat to one side with the windows behind it, facing the doors. The perimeter of the room had deep shadows despite the open plan, and open windows. A bench was set in the focal point of the table, where the three were escorted and allowed to sit.

It was all Steven could do to stifle his amusement at the theater of the situation. Sharlot had wanted a scene caused. Steven could cause one just by laughing at what he saw. Rox felt the weight of the situation how these people, these elves, were an impediment to retrieving her children. Caspian was initially bored, but got himself into gear as he was brought into the room.

Twelve high backed chairs were in asymmetric array around the far side of the table, three were currently empty. Caspian had warned that the pompous windbag sat at the center. The spare chair on the far left was the clerk, and therefore of slightly less importance than the rest.

The elves in their seats were back lit and had some what of a harsh shadow obscuring their features and dress. As Steven's eyes adjusted, he could see that there were more males than females, that they were in similar styles of costume to what he and his wife wore, and that they were all taller and some obviously heavier in comparative build than he was.

The clerk started the audience. “Mage, these are the parents of the Children of Prophecy, brought before us as we instructed?”

Steven did not let Caspian answer, but this was prearranged. He stood and spoke.

“I am Steven Phillip Caplan, Husband to Roxanne Clarice Caplan, Father to Diana and Alexander. What is it you want of us, that you delay us in retrieving our children?”

The pompous windbag spoke first. “We want your children safely returned to your care and to know that they are being raised to their proper destiny. You may sit down, human. Our Daughter, we understand that you have magical talent, it this true?”

Rox had thought about being as flamboyant as her costume, but instead chose to be her usual self. “Yeah, it is. But having only the last months to work with it, I am not certain what I am capable of. The Mage tells me that I have surprised him on several occasions.”

“This is all nice and well, Pervical, but that is just passing time.” Sharlot interjected from halfway between the center and the clerk. “We need to hear the report on what has been found surrounding the monarchs of Krogg. Mallob that was your responsibility.”

Another elf, from the other side of the table spoke. “Our overall information is limited, as the current monarchs have made a concerted effort during their reign to control information about themselves. We have learned that when they were wed approximately thirty years ago, there was a prophecy made that prompted the execution of the voice if it. Our records of what it says are third hand at best, and incomplete. We have learned, as the Mage said his sources report, that the children will play a roll in the violent succession of these monarchs. To this end, they have apparently sought to take control of these children’s lives. Our investigators are still working in the archives, and have sent to Krogg, to investigate further.”

Pervical, the pompous windbag sitting in the center, spoke. “So we can barely confirm what the mage has alleged, regarding the motives of Krogg. I still maintain that this is of lesser importance.”

Steven countered this. “Perhaps to you, but as the father of those kidnapped, it is nice to know that there is at least some kind of rational reason for this nightmare. How would you like your children kidnapped and not even know why, let alone where, or if you would ever see them again?”

Pervical’s oily tone in his response rubbed all the fur the wrong way. “The prophecies about the Chaos Bringer cycle, and its harbingers are relatively common knowledge to any even remotely versed in their history. That it happens to coincide with other happenings is hardly a surprise, as life continues.”

A female to Sharlot’s right responded to this. “If you happen to live in the right community. Go off this mountain, and you find that there are many such things as local prophecies that simply are not talked about or disseminated to outsiders, whether it be simply community to community, or world to world.”

Pervical was not going to be lectured to about his provincialism or preconceived stereotypes. “The point at hand is not what was prophesied by whom, when, or about what. It is about getting the Harbingers of the Chaos Bringer trained and ready to face it once it arrives.”

“You are talking about my children, then?” Steven interjected.

Pervical ignored Steven. “I am aware that the mood of this council is to provide any and all help to Our Daughter and her paramour, to retrieve their children. I have never had any argument against reasonable measures.”

Sharlot interrupted him. “No, you just want to keep them here, to personally oversee their growth to maturity. Rasgan, you are the one in charge of that. What have you got set up?”

Pervical agreed. “Yes, to see that they are trained as befits elves, from the earliest possible moment.”

Sharlot stabbed again. “And the parents can be returned to their home.”

Pervical answered this. “Yes, when they are ready to.”

“And if this is before the children are fully trained, the children will remain as the parents leave. Just as the conscripts of our own military are compelled to.”

“It’s for the best.”

Rox and Steven stood up, Steven a beat ahead. “Excuse me Humber Shroober, but NO! Roxanne and I will be taking OUR children Home!”

They were both at the center of every ones attention. Several elves were stifling giggles. Neither Steven nor Rox knew why; Steven dismissed the giggles and kept going.

“I thank you for your help, and all you will yet do to further this cause. But let me say one thing clearly. I am going to get my children back, and I am going to take them back to my house, where my wife and I will raise them. You can help, or stand aside. But I will not allow you to take them from me.”

Later Steven would recognize that this was exactly the scene that Sharlot wanted made.

As it was, the elves were alternately regaining control of their giggles, or sitting in stony offended pride.

After a moment, a male elf from Pervical’s left spoke. “Well, we see that they have the passion necessary to accomplish the task. It appears that they are ignorant of any kind of prophecy and don’t have much care of acting within or without its constraints. Personally, I would just as soon let them get about their parental business, and provide them with whatever help we can.”

Steven and Rox sat back down as the rest politely ceded the conversation to the new speaker.

“My agent has tested and evaluated Steven Phillip, and his equipment. His opinion is that the skills are in place, but some of his equipment is not up to the task of dealing with any magic that he may encounter in his travels. Another agent familiar with Krogg reports that the monarchs there have some fearsome magic to augment their skills. However they have not been on the battlefield in some time. The conclusion is that some replacement equipment is required. Further I have asked Mallob for information of such magical items native to this world as might be useful. He has yet to provide the list, but I trust his office will in reasonable time.”

Mallob answered. “Yes. We are still compiling that list. I was told they expect to have it complete by this afternoon.”

“Good. Steven Phillip, we will cull the list, and present you with what we believe is the best option in private discussion.”

Sharlot took up the point. “And Roxanne?”

This was answered by the person sitting farthest from the clerk. “We are still working out a schedule. We should be ready to proceed this afternoon, if she will be so kind as to return.”

Roxanne stood. “I will.” She sat.

Sharlot continued. “Good. Cuinton what is the evaluation of the traveling gear. Is it acceptable, or can we provide anything?”

Steven stood at this. “Most of it is acceptable. But there are some modifications or alterations that could be made.”

Before he could continue, and knowing that this was not the time or place, he yielded the floor.

The elf that had restarted things after Steven’s standing down of Pervical answered. “Arrangements can be made to provide whatever is desired, so long as there is sufficient communication.”

Steven wished, not for the first time, that the chairs were not back lit, so that he could actually see the faces and details of the elves seated before him.

The elf seated next to the clerk spoke.  “And what of cost? A handful of outfits for those of such size as these are is but a pittance and hardly missed in the budget. But suits of armor and the labor cost for them can be considerable. Not that I expect to outfit these in plate armor, I simply need to know what the costs are anticipated to be. We already owe the Mage a considerable sum.”

Pervical answered this. “Faxeld, it was decided before we started this that the cost would be born. Whatever it was. To their credit, Our Daughter and her paramour apparently understand the value of things generally and are frugal in their doings. I do not expect that they will change and spend us into penury.”

Before anyone else could bring up something Pervical stood. “Is there anything else to be discussed at this time? Then we are done.”

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� h���s�f aesthetics?” He was calling her bluff, as she rarely went on at length over anything so trivial as clothes or tailors. Nor was she given to high kicks. But Steven blocked this one just off his right shoulder as she pivoted on her left foot, the dress trailing like shimmering clouds.

Steven stepped in and wrapped her in his arms as she regained her footing. “It’ll be all right. Everything will work out.”

Her tears soaked his shoulder, as he held her to him.

As she settled down. Steven started rambling about his own afternoon.

“The ‘specialist’ Verigan came. We sparred. With my sword, I felt like the comparative novice I am, never mind that guy was almost half again my height.”  Steven rubbed her back, the way she liked.

“I took him apart with just my hands, would have made my D.I. proud; but then having his kidneys at my level was almost not fair. I could not really read him, to see whether he was impressed in anything, though.” His left hand still ached from a solid contact where he had slapped the elf’s arm to the floor.

“He looked over my coat and things. His only comment was that I apparently don’t have any armor.” Steven had remembered the first few times in the Marines when his effects had been inspected, and down checked as not yet up to snuff.

“Just before he left, he suggested that the formal from Veradale was tacky, and that I should get a better suit for the meeting day after tomorrow. At least about the suit we agreed.”

This stripped Rox’s emotional gears and struck her sense of humor.

Steven had one last shot. “Caspian said I could use his, and he would go in his skivvies.”

Rox’s tears were overtaken by her laughter as Steven continued to hold her.