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For the first time in nearly five years, the rulers of Whitestone accepted the invitation that Emperor Uriel the second had sent to them as he sent to other rulers of the other cities of Tal’dorei and notable persons, rather than sending a letter that told him that they could not in good conscience go with their city in shambles after the deaths of the entire de Rolo family and the other noble families of Whitestone. Lord Briarwood surveyed the room full of dancing nobles – a majority of them human, but some were of other races, or half-human. The vampire was amused that the supposed security measures had been circumvented so seamlessly by their ally in the capital of Tal’dorei and the broach that hid his true nature. None of these stuffy idiots had any clue as to what they were truly here for.
His loving wife sidled over to him, a warm smile on her face as she easily moved through the crowd, talking to the vapid, brainless idiots who apparently held some of the power in the cities they hailed from. If things went well they would be able to Charm a number of them – or at least be able to Suggest that one of them send along a little bit of information here and there, discourage their town council from trying to spy in Whitestone – not that the spies would survive more than a day or so. Some of their populace still had a spark of resistance left in them, but with sweet Cassandra having finally realized that it was much better for her to be their daughter than to cling to those who were dead and would never return to her, their daughter was kept abreast of any rebellious mutterings of the populace. Not that they would need to keep them at the grindstone for too much longer.
Come this Winter’s Crest Festival and their debt to Vecna would be squared and the two of them should be able to find a comfortable, out of the way place to live together for a while – until they needed to move due to his… Very particular nutritional needs. Lord Briarwood was uncertain if he wanted to turn his beautiful wife into a vampire or not – it was not something they had discussed much as it had taken much scheming and plotting to get this far. On the other hand they could go on ruling Whitestone, with the occasional visitor to the city or criminal ending up dead, after they resurrected Vecna, if the city wasn’t leveled from the dark god’s resurrection of course.
She leaned against him a little, smiling up at him again before whispering “Lord and Lady Adalym fighting over there, darling do beware, she’s a bitch!” Delilah had heard the woman haranguing her husband as the other was more interested in continuing to his duties as the headmaster of the Alabaster Lycium rather than attend this party, but he had come because she had all but dragged him to this fancy ball from what she had overheard. The music was played by a group of excellent musicians, but neither of them were here for the social atmosphere, but information they might be able to gain on the lords and ladies of Emon for future use.
Lord Daxio – whom they had found was a worshipper of Vecna and whom had come to them after they had made their pact with Vecna and had taken Whitestone and proved to the dark god that they intended on making good on their end of the deal he had forged with them. The elven lord had been an invaluable aid to them – otherwise the two of them would have had a much harder time of keeping Whitestone, especially if the slightly worrying rumor that young Percival had managed to survive the initial assault. A particularly interesting bit of gossip fell into his lap recently and he was eager to share. In a pleasant voice, making sure to move his lips only a little so it was less likely he would be lip-read if anyone was looking in his direction he reported “Lady Vysoren’s having an affair, with a paladin! Just her niche.”
Silas’ eyes gleamed with amusement for a moment as his eyes swept over the crowd, amused at the fact that despite that all of these people claimed that they were the cream of the crop of the towns they came from, their secrets and sordid little details were just as sinful as the rest of the world’s. Unlike the common folk, they had the pride of a name to uphold and would do fascinatingly ridiculous things in order to save face – and power. Or at least the illusion of power they believed they had. “A fine party, divine party. A touch tawdry but so lovely.” If they could get information on at least some of the key figures at this party, they should be able to stop the spies from coming to Whitestone permanently. The spies blood had been tasty, but the spies always riled up the populace some, with their tales from the outside, particularly of the enigmatic and potentially dangerous Vox Machina – supposedly among them was Percival, running around free and potentially causing mischief.
Delilah watched Guardian Bratorus for a couple of seconds, before her forcibly pleasant smile widened a fraction of an inch as the slight illusion spell she had thought she had sensed on the dragonborn revealed to her something about the follower of Bahamut “What a pretty smile! Guardian Tofor Bratorus. Pity they are not all her teeth.” Then again the paladin was common born and had risen to her position due to her strength of body and protectiveness, not because she had noble blood. Still it was an interesting little piece of information that the dragonborn felt the urge to hide the fact that she did not have all her teeth.
Riscale spotted the Seeker who had tried to send his most loyal and subtle spies to Whitestone, only to lose them. For someone who was supposedly the Master of Secrets, it amused the elf that the Halfling didn’t seem to even suspect that someone was revealing his spies to the Briarwoods. They were working tirelessly to bring Vecna back to this plane of existence and nodded slightly in the direction of the younger being, eyes shining with mirth “Seeker Asum as well, he’s blind as hell! From where the leak comes, he can’t tell!”
The Briarwoods observed the Seeker for a couple of moments before the Halfling slipped into the crowd. After this little conversation they would walk amongst their so called peers and see what they might be able to pry from the others – or more likely overhear as the two of them were unknown quantities. It was delicious to get these pieces of gossip however. Perception of oneself was key – and the right rumors spread whether they were true or not could easily shatter someone’s reputation and they had become very, very good at manipulating the flow of information and how to use gossip mills for their benefit. Their one wish was to gather not only actual information, but how the other nobles viewed one another and how close they were.
The Necromancer and Vampire couple danced easily between other paired nobles and notable people, and as they overheard one of the servants introducing Empress Tal’dorei to some of the lesser nobles, Lord Briarwood muttered under his breath so that only his beautiful wife could hear him “God she’s looking old.”
There was a hint of a laugh in Delilah’s voice as she whispered back after he twirled her around, enjoying the slight dizzying feeling. It reminded her briefly of when they were much younger and just beginning to fall in love with one another. “Poor Emporer Tal’dorei!” They were going to use these poor unsuspecting fools as long as they were useful and discard them when their utility ended.
As they continued to dance, she spotted a new face in the crowd. A half-elf with an odd-looking crown-like hairpiece that kept her reddish brown hair from covering her pale face. Neither of them recognized the young woman, so when lord Daxio asked for a dance from her, Delilah accepted with a smile and a slight tilt to her head in the direction of the awkward looking half-elf, a quizzical expression appearing on her face briefly.
“Lady Keyleth, awful colored hair.” Riscale responded with a slight sniff, finding the druid’s coloring to be rather gaudy in his opinion. He spotted Vax’ildan lurking close to the awkward young woman, his hands occasionally flinching towards his belt, not that there was anything there. “That’s her lover there, with the twitch!” The Lord of Emon wasn’t certain if the two half-elves were in fact lovers, but there was enough lingering looks and slight blushes when he observed the two of them interacting when they thought that they weren’t being watched, that there was definitely something more between the two of them – or something potentially there. He was surprisingly tense – all of Vox Machina whom he had spotted around the room were, but there was one missing that was unexplained. The Cleric was off in Vasselheim rebuilding a temple to one of the weak, good gods. But where was the Tinkerer? From his way of speaking and movements the only full human of the group had been raised – at least for a time – as a noble.
“Arbiter Goldhand and his wife?” The necromancer asked curiously, spotting the former captain of the guard with an unfamiliar woman. Curiously their hair seemed to look almost exactly the same.
“What a pair of pigs! Wearing each other’s wigs.” The elf responded back with an amused if slightly disgusted tone of voice. “That must itch.”
All three of them danced with other lords and ladies – though as both of the Briarwoods were still fairly new to Emon’s high society, none of the others made note of the fact that the two of them danced with one another every other dance. Curiously none of Vox Machina seemed to have the temerity to ask either one of them to a dance, and Vax’ildan only danced with his sister or Keyleth. Not that any of the males of Vox Machina danced with the nobles all that much – between the dragonborn’s tail being a bit of a tripping hazard, and Scanlan being too short for most potential partners (not that the bard didn’t flirt with half of the noblewomen, married or not) it wasn’t that much of a surprise.
As Vox Machina as a group were part of the council of Tal’dorei, the Briarwoods were looking forwards to speaking with them at the feast that was yet to come. To test what they knew of what truly happened – and if young Percival had in fact survived and if so, he had found his way into their keeping in some way.