The Arcanist

[Niksis]

Idenheim, the Capital of Dietanstad was a place unlike any other. A place where technology and progress meets the ancient traditions of the past. A massive city, with towering buildings jutting up into the night sky. People from all walks of life litter the streets below, scurrying from one point to another as not even the quiet of night slowed the city down. Carts ferrying goods from warehouse to store, or from factory to warehouse moved through the city with experienced ease, the only time such a thing were even remotely possible. In the very heart of Idenheim stood a behemoth of a building, proof of the masonry the Empire of Dietanstad could produce, the Cathedral of the One, the only accepted God and deity officially accepted in the Empire. Priests working day and night to bring his Light to those lost or in need. However the Church was not the main draw of the City, further to the west of the massive, walled off city stood an even bigger building. The Royal Palace of Emperor Emast van Blankhorst. By most accounts he had been a good Emperor, always placing the people of Dietanstad before anything else. Something which earned him quite the hostility among'st some of the other Nobles.

In an effort to not only secure his hold over the Empire of Dietanstad, but also his own personal safety, Emas had reached out for a promising young Magician, Maddalyn von Sarzwald. Of course, her tasks at court and outside of it would be achieved more easily if her affiliation with him was not publicly known, this allowed her more freedom to mingle with the nobles, yet the safety of working for the Emperor himself.

That night had been like any other, a night of laughter, secrets, food and drink. The court had gathered, as it did so often to discuss important events. Of course, the most important event worth discussing was the upcoming election for the next Emperor. Emast van Blankhorst was confident in that he would be re-elected, however rumors had been circulating at court that a group of nobles had banded together for the single purpose of ensuring that did not happen.

Emperor Emas van Blankhorst had summoned his most trusted Agent and spy, Maddalyn to his chambers that night, he had a special task for her, a sensitive task that he would only entrust to one person, her. She was to learn more about this plot, this rumor. And if possible, put an end to it before it grew out of control. She'd have to be subtle about it, too. It should not be allowed to be traced back to him, or his election would be at risk.

 

[Sensualist]

Maddalyn von Sarzwald stepped out of the Emperor's private audience chamber, and the door swung closed behind her as if the hinges were made of silk. The two Imperial Guards that flanked the door were resplendent in their black and gold armour and tall plumes, and they lowered their halberds across the doorway as she exited, forming a barrier behind her with the weapons. She excused herself from the monarch's protectors with a smile, and even though they were charged with maintaining perpetual vigilance in defence of the Emperor, it was hard for them not to watch her go through the eye slits of their visors.

Tall for a woman, with sun-kissed skin and golden blonde hair, Maddalyn's legs never failed to inspire lust in those who saw them. Tonight, on the occasion of the Electoral Gala, she was dressed up especially well for the event. She wore a skirt of pink silk and gold thread, widely slitted at the sides to show off her tapering legs to their best, and a corsetted bodice of supple, pale leather and white satin. A scale-patterend demi-cloak with a tall looping collar covered her shoulders, leaving a nice diamond of her cleavage visible, and she wore golden bracers on her arms along with a ring and necklace. None of it was just for show, however... it was all enchanted with her panoply of protective magics.

She walked along the black and white tiled corridor, towards a marble balustrade that overlooked the great banquet hall. The palace was teeming with guests, celebrating, enjoying the Imperial larder and wine cellar, seeing and being seen in fine company, and politicking, always politicking. Maddalyn placed her hands on the balustrade, leaning forward slightly to watch the crowd, chewing on her inner lip as she mused. So, her patron wished her to disrupt the plans of those who sought to dethrone him in the coming elections... a tricky proposition, since virtually every noble of high enough rank to cast a vote wanted the throne for himself! But there were always factions and parties at play, certain counts and dukes who were more powerful, more influential, more ambitious.

She simply had to find out who they were this time, who their backers were, and what they were plotting.

Maddalyn lifted the mask she carried and placed it daintily back on her face, adjusting the strap around her head. It was tradition to dress up in masquerade attire at the Electroral Gala... the fact that everyone was in disguise of one sort or another certainly suited the intrigue-ridden atmosphere of the event. Maddalyn descended the stairs with a graceful walk, rejoining the magnificent event and preparing to mingle. She would begin by collecting gossip, chatting and flirting and dancing with the lords and ladies, listening to their pitches and theories and scandalous rumours. Hopefully, something would emerge from the hubbub...

 

[Niksis]

The banquet hall was bursting with activity, laughter, moans of defeat and the echoes of the band playing all filled the massive room. Nobles were plotting and planning, both for and against the current Monarch and the direction he had decided to take it. Courtesans were plying their trade, looking for suitable husbands and ever plotting to advance themselves and their family. To these people, the schemes of the court were far more dangerous than any battlefield. In war, defeat meant death, that had a certain finality. Here, on the floor of intrigue, defeat meant eternal shame and ridicule. These halls, and halls like them, had the unnatural ability to turn someone with nothing, into someone with everything. All it took was the right kind of whispers and the perfect amount of gold.

The room was full of people in clothes far too expensive, cloths of imported materials in every single color that existed. One thing everyone had in common, everyone was wearing masks. From young, strapping noblemen in deep purple outfits with gold embroiled into the material, to women in uncomfortable dresses made for the purpose of showing as much cleavage as possible. The sexual tension was palpable in the air, men staring at women with hungry, lustful eyes and women with moist loins dreaming of that perfect someone. And if someone listened closely, one could hear the soft moans of someone enjoying themselves too much.

Maddalyn gracefully moved herself from one group to the next with an ease only someone practised or schooled could do. Masks turned as she passed, both young and older men and women all turned their gazes to her as she passed them. The men with lust and want in their eyes, the women with jealousy and what could only be described at disdain. She was a threat to them, to their standing. In a world like this, without a strong man, a woman would have nothing. Rumors were aplenty, it was almost pitiful how quickly someone in an important position would spill his deepest secrets to the first woman with a firm chest and the right proportions. State secrets that were meant for no one but their ears only.

"I hear Lord Bergmann slept with Lord Kuhn's wife." One of the Lords whispered to another, "Oh? I hear that Lady and Lord Kuhn aren't too pleased with each other." the other replied. Scandalous stuff, for sure. But hardly anything that would shake the entire Empire at it's core.

Whispers of such nature were a plenty at the Banquet, whispers and rumors of infidelity and fraud. It would seem at here, at the heart of the civilized world, loyalty and trust was close to non-existent. That was when Maddalyn maneuvered herself close to one of the Chancellors, advisers to the Emperor, and it was here that she heard the whisper "We're almost ready, Chancellor." the words were clear, the person speaking them and the person they had been directed at was another story.

"Your supporters are gathering in the abandoned warehouse at the docks, awaiting your orders." There it was again, a whisper, it was close, they were close but so were about twenty other people, eight of them fitting the role of Chancellor.

 

[Sensualist]

This was her element. Oh, certainly, she did well in the dusty libraries and sulphurous alchemical laboratories of the Academy, but it was in the court and its soirées where she thrived. Maddalyn loved the colours, the brightness, the music, the life of events like this. Everyone was dressed up gorgeously, like peacocks – though it was the women with the gaudiest and most splendid plumage, not the men in their military jackets, sashes of fraternal orders, their leggings and coats. But the ladies of court, the courtesans trying to catch the eye of some wealthy man, the daughters trying to outdo one another in glamour and beauty, the wives trying to make themselves look as attractive as possible so their husbands gaze did not wander to some harlot or young cocktease... Maddalyn was able to feast her eyes on many well-turned calves, canted hips and tightly corsetted bosoms, on hair combed and dyed and styled to perfection, on painted, pouting lips beneath jewelled masks.

Maddalyn flitted from group to group, conversation to conversation like a social butterfly. She spoke with breezy casualness, wrapping a coil of golden hair around her finger and giggling as if the light shone through a hole in her head, playing up the leggy, airheaded image. With the Baron of Pforsend, she spoke about the soaring population of Idenheim, its inns and dormitories swelling with nobles and their retinues. The Duke of Krondike confided in her his hopes that the House of Scharroff would be ascending the throne after the votes were tallied, while staring at her cleavage. An up-and-coming clerk of the Exchequery explained how the election was driving up the price of steel and silk alike. The wife of some lord bragged to her how, through a loophole in the laws of peerage, her husband would be permitted a vote, despite being only a baronet.

But finally, her empty smile and encouraging nods paid off, albeit indirectly. “You see, down south, across the Teeming Sea they have these creatures,” explained the ambassador she was conversing with, a handsome, dark-haired man in a blue velvet coat and green sash. “Dog-headed beasts, savage as you could imagine. Carrion eaters, vile stuff. They say they emerge naturally whenever bodies are left without a proper burial, like salamanders born from a burning log...”

“Gnolls. They're called gnolls,” Maddalyn said irritably, raising one finger to hush the man. Her... acquaintance Bolivar had told her that, once. She tilted her head slightly, trying to listen in to what she had overheard. Damn these masks! So many of them covered the wearer's mouths, making it nigh-impossible to tell who was speaking.

“Shall we dance, ambassador?” she said, quickly turning back to him with a dazzling smile. That would give her a chance to turn about, and looking over his shoulder she could examine those around her, hopefully to identify the conspirators. Maddalyn held out her hands daintily and invitingly to the man, giving him a coy look under lowered golden lashes.

 

[Niksis]

News of the Gnolls had been on most peoples lips, albeit it mostly in hushed whispers. Few knew where they had come from, or what they wanted. However news of whole towns and villages disappearing or being enslaved at the hands of dog headed beasts had reached the capitol. At first people wouldn't believe it, "Dog-Beasts wouldn't be a match against Dietanstad and her armies", "Oh, don't be a fool. Our men stand no chance against these unholy beasts." the rumors were many, and more often than not they were grossly wrong.

However that was neither here nor there, such information would do little to aid someone in a battle of wits, influence, power and love. The only kind of battles that took place in the city now.

The ambassador was just about to scold the insufferable woman who had presumed to know more about matters of war and combat, however her coy smile and well chosen outfit did wonders to quell the anger and slight that had built in his chest, instead, he stepped forward and accepted the invitation "Gladly, my'lady." As their hands met, giving Maddalyn a natural reason to turn about, she saw two men in a deep conversation, deeper so than those around. It could just be a coincidence, of course, they could just be discussing matters of debt, love or anything in between. However looking closer, Maddalyn would be able to make out bits and pieces of the conversation, "Good, bring them to..." the music flared up then, prompting the dancers to twirl and shift, and when Maddalyn put her eyes on the two again and listened in once more, the conversation was still going, "If we do this right, Emast will meet his end during the...." and again, almost as if some force didn't want her to know it all, the music flared up again and the couples dancing moved about.

When she looked their way again, one of the men had disappeared. It had been two men, one young looking one who Maddalyn would recognize as one of the younger lords in attendance, his name just as insignificant as his station and power. Though what he lacked in power and station, he more than made up for with his striking features. His powerful jaw and broad shoulder were no doubt the tools he had used to reach such a lofty station, as being welcome at a banquet of this size. The older man, the one who the younger had received orders from, well, where the younger man wore a small mask only masking his eyes, the older one had bore a full mask, shielding everything but the color of his eyes. A color that would be hard to make out at this distance, even for someone with magical powers or alchemy at their back.

The young Lord looked around the room then, as if looking for someone, or something. His eyes met with Maddalyn's for a second, but they didn't linger. Instead, as if content with what he had seen or rather, hadn't seen, he excused himself to the group around him and began to move towards the exit with hurried steps.

 

[Sensualist]

Maddalyn's gaze was intent on the surrounding nobles, especially once she identified a likely pair of conspirators. Still, she stiffened as the ambassador's hand caressed the curve of her spine and curve of her derrière in a rather too familiar manner, and she 'accidentally' trod the tall heel of her shoe into his foot. “Oh my goodness, ambassador, isn't that your wife?” Maddalyn smiled, pointing to distract him, then slipping away into the crowd in the other direction.

The blonde started to weave her way through the crowd, following the younger of the pair she had observed, replaying what they had said in her mind. A warehouse on the docks? That didn't help. Idenheim' harbour was full of warehouses, as the capital had an insatiable appetite for food and goods from across its territories and holdings. Supporters? At first she had thought they meant some kind of rally, but now it sounded like they meant warriors or assassins. She cursed the string section and their exquisite violins and the burble of conversation that filled the hall. Emast will meet his end... The murder of a candidate was a crude way to affect the election, but quite effective if they could pull it off. She considered warning the emperor, but his guards were doubtless in a state of full alert anyway.

Who was this man, she wondered. He looked like a victorious soldier, a minor knight or perhaps an upjumped thug, ennobled for his skills at violence and loyalty to whoever his patron was. Still, he had the kind of jawline she wouldn't mind seeing between her thighs, coated with her honey... Maddalyn put the thought aside, and concentrated on not losing him, and not letting herself be spotted. With luck, he might lead her to this warehouse... or at least more of his comrades.