As Rosalind sits, one of the embassy staff steps forward to gingerly pour tea into the two waiting cups.

"Lly," she says, "I'd normally be glad you're here, but not today. Karval is a little dangerous for you right now. And I don't mean because of this silly business of philosophers and ladies' maids, either."

"Why, my Cousin, you are telling me too much or not enough.", she answers with a sweet smile."I thought the situation in Karval was rather stable for the moment. And for what it is, what 'business about philosophers and ladies' maids are you talking about?"

She allows herself another biscuit.

"Besides, I am hardly the person Aunt Moire would send to foment a revolution in some remote shadow. So if you could tell me more on the whereabout of your so-said 'Rebman Philosophers', before I go and hide in a cupboard or someplace..."

Rosalind takes a small crustless triangle of lightly buttered bread from the tray of comestibles and consumes it. "Your old tutor may be involved, or her presence may just be a coincidence. But, Lly, I'm serious about the politics. If you're fond of your tutor, you may want to encourage her to take a vacation to Rebma. Poetry festivals can be boring--I'm not sorry to be missing a reading to chat with you--but they're preferable to revolutions."

"Well, now don't tell me you are afraid of a 'quiet, cultural' bunch of poetry-reading revolutionaries! That would look so unlike you! Now, if Random's agents are fomenting anti-Rebman riots, I should probably feel a bit more threatened. Not to mention that I would take it very personally.", she adds more seriously.

"Come, now, you know as well as I do that this little game of domination over Shadow has been going on forever. What interest me more is why my Royal Uncle suddenly pays so much attention to an otherwise rather uninteresting little shadow like Karval."

"Now, Rosalind, you may want to tell me more about this. Do you mean 'men with guns', or more specifically 'men with fully functional guns in a shadow where no explosive agent has been known to function before'?"

"This complication does not satisfy me. If you need any help with those revolutionaries, well, I am not without ressources... Besides, we'd better collaborate on this one rather than work separately, don't you think?"

Lly isn't sure Rosalind actually heard or made sense of what she said.

"What I meant really was to offer you my help. I have reasons to think this could be related to some business of mine, and if you want me to,I would happily give you a hand with your problem."

"Coz," she says, "Lly and I were just speaking of you. Your ears must be burning."

After a brief pause.

"Always, John, where you're concerned. If Lly can spare me for a moment, I am yours." Rosalind casts a questioning look off to one side.

"Of course. I'll be right outside." She leaves the room with a bitter smile.

"You will at least take the shortbread?" That, at least, is clearly to Llygwen.

She hands Lly a plate with the last shortbread on it. "Did you say something about something you could use my help with?"

"Pray tell me, cousin: do John's troubles involve guns, gunpowder or in any way any kind of explosive devices? I don't want to invade John's privacy, but at this point it is important for me to know this."

She explains, gently, "The king's forces have fusilliers, with wheel-locks. The prospective rebel forces are armed with cartridge rifles, but there are only about half as many of them as there are of the king's men. The rebels also have street fighters, but they're not armed with guns. There are other nobles with armed forces, but nobody else has numbers that are meaningful compared to those two. Even the Embassy has a force of riflemen, but there are only fifty. They're better armed than anyone else, but there aren't enough of them to make a significant difference."

Rosalind says, "There'll be a bloodbath if open fighting starts. But I think I have an idea of how to keep it from starting. I'll need your help, though."

"Now what was it earlier that you said you were working on? How can I help you?"

"Nothing that cannot wait in view of your problems, Rosalind. As for the fellow, I will need a bit more information, but you can consider me enlisted." She makes a kiddish mock salute.

" Do you want to send for me tomorrow? You know where I resides, I guess."

"The Embassy staff know everything. I haven't been here long enough to pick up the local details, but I'm sure they'll know. I can tell you everything you need to know in the morning. But let's not spoil the rest of the afternoon by speaking of it. Tell me about what's going on with you, Lly."

Stoortgen Palace is thronged with well-wishers, huge crowds of local city-folk and even far-flung farm families, come into the city to spend some time cheering their new monarch. Both Rosalind and Llygwen will easily notice, however, a large number of burly men, dressed in the poor clothes favored by factory workers, whose cheers are merely perfunctory, and who gaze at the palace and its gates particularly with a sort of predatory greed that is quite unsettling to behold.

The Formal Hall of the Palace is wildly overdecorated, tacky in the most provincial way. Its original architecture shows promise, with high thin windows of stained glass held aloft by narrow columns like blowing reeds. But too much of the fine beginning has been ruined by an abundance of gold filigree. Only the wide marble floor, scarred and cracked in places from centuries of history, escapes the plague of decoration.

King Conrad sits on the throne, listening attentively to some dispute over one man's ancestral rights to a river, and another man's factory draining into it. He is such a -young- man. Were he not of royal blood, he might not even have come into his legal majority yet. He wears no crown at this time (it being an informal court) and his curled blond hair spills artfully about his head. The throne to his right is empty, though certain of the young beauties of the court eye it wistfully. The King has a pensive look, as of a distracted artist or poet. The pair arguing before him seem a bit at a loss how to react, and are stumbling over their carefully prepared speeches.

Of course, the real activity is happening in the arcades and side chambers adjoining the main Hall. Nobles come and go on a variety of pretexts, but the real dynamic is always the same: Spend some time being seen to be dutiful by the King, then spend some time playing the games of society and politics with those who are free to play them best.

OOC: Rosalind escorts Llygwen into the Court, or does she arrange to meet her there by mere happenstance? Or something else?

Rosalind is dressed for an "informal" court: ladylike, but she's wearing split skirts rather than a dress. It's quite possible that she's hoping (or expecting) to ride with Conrad again when he's finished with his official duties.

As they enter the hall, Rosalind will quietly point out several of the notables to Llygwen: "That's Duke Sterk. That fellow over there is Count Van Reede. And that's Duke Rausch. He's the one with the private army, and the thugs we saw outside probably work for him too. I'll introduce you around after I've presented you to the King."

Rosalind will wait her turn to present Llygwen to the King. Being a 900-lb gorilla has its uses, but it has more if you don't throw your weight around very often.

There is a raucous cheer of support from one of the groups in the court, and a very ominous murmur of anger and discontent from another. Lord Rausch isn't in the group murmuring angrily... just near enough to have organized it.

Rosalind and Llygwen are immediately escorted to face the throne.

When Conrad gives the sign to dismiss them, Rosalind gives him another encouraging look.

Rosalind leads Llygwen out of the main court and into one of the side passages. This one is teeming with people chatting amiably.

Phrases like "responsibility to our tenants", "progress towards equality under the law" and "absolutely the loveliest crab biscuits you've ever tasted" waft through the air. Rosalind makes her way with several gracious but brief conversations to a group of men who seem embroiled in a particularly enthusiastic political discussion.

"...simply must prepare ourselves to provide a moral compass not merely for Karval but for our neighbors as well," says a young man in stylishly refined clothes, with short-trimmed black hair and aquiline features. "If we have no values that can make the transition to a larger stage then we might as well just give way to the men who have no values at all, and be done with it!"

Of them all, only one plump-faced woman, dressed quite professionally (which sets her apart as a staffer, rather than the more ostentatiously costumed nobles) seems to wrinkle her brow in a little bit of worry at some of the subtle signals flashing between Llygwen and Rosalind. The rest of the group seems oblivious to anything but a polite, if somewhat scripted, conversation.

"You're the heir to Rebma's throne?" Van Reede says in a tone of surprise and interest. "But I thought they had already had a queen for... well, essentially forever. And now another one? How very... different from the way things are here."

Count Van Reede is visibly unsettled by this comment, and the onlookers grow still and quiet.

"Well," he says with an attempt at a smile, "I suppose that must be true. Our passing concerns must seem very quaint and trivial to somebody like you."

She turns her attention to Van Reede, and speaks more seriously, "That which seems passing and trivial in one moment may assume great import in the next. That is one of the many lessons imparted by long life."

She offers him a slight courtesy and takes Llygwen's arm to lead her off to meet Rausch, if Llygwen is willing to go.

"... practically a police state. But I am sure that this is only a temporary situation," Rausch reassures the men.

"The King will see reason," one supplies, helpfully.

"Oh yes," Rausch says, "I have no doubt of that. Why Princess Rosalind! And the Princess Llygwen, if I am not mistaken. What a pleasure to see you both."

OOC: with metaphorical popcorn

"I'll try not to dwell on my own part in that," he says, "and merely be glad for the Queen's continued good health."

He glances to Rosalind, clearly looking for some hint as to how to proceed.

OOC: Good. I got everybody sweaty and on the edge, and now they won't be able to take anything Lly says for granted.

She looks at Llygwen and says with a slight but definite emphasis, "I seem to recall that you had business in town, Llygwen. Will you have time to go?"

She turns to Rausch. "However, Duke, I may have to beg your forgiveness, for my wardrobe may not be quite up to the occasion, as my retinue did not arrive yet."

She bows curtly. "I may then abuse of your hospitality with a guiltless pleasure, Duke."

OOC: Since Rausch was really the important intro, I'm perfectly happy to gloss the Sterk intro if JP is. I've been enjoying watching Llygwen play with her food, but if we need to move along, we can. Up to y'all.

Duke Sterk is humble and polite to the point of being obsequious. Although it is obvious from his dedicated (but much smaller) following that he is a man of some personal charisma, he treats both Rosalind and Llygwen with fawning respect. Unless he is forced by some rhetorical device to discuss himself, he will at every opportunity turn the conversation back to Lly, what she has done and what she thinks.

At a guess, I would expect that the conversation consists of many pleasantries, much admiration from Sterk, and mild, well concealed disdain from Llygwen. Does that sound about right?

"Your friend Rausch... He's been a little bit overreacting, don't you think?"

"Duke Rausch's name seems to appear far too frequently in my affairs for my own taste lately. And not only in connection with you. This fact worries me a lot. I guess I haven't shown my best social behaviour today, and I beg your pardon for that." She sighs, perhaps relieved to have admitted her failure.

"Or maybe I am trying too hard. I don't know. I am not much used being useful, I am afraid." She shrugs with a disenchanted smile.

"Here is not the place. I will tell you about that later. What is your plan, now?" She turns to Rosalind.

Rosalind glances about to make sure no one is within easy hearing distance and drops her voice. "Let's split up and circulate for a while. Everyone will want to talk to you, so you won't be short of conversational partners. In forty minutes or so, wander back around to Rausch again and let him flirt with you some more. I'll wander by not long afterwards and take things from there.

"You're a pal, Lly." Which is high praise from Rosalind.

"I'll try not to disappoint you, Cousin."

Lly walks away from Rosalind with a little wave of her hand, and starts to wander in the gallery. It is not long before she is chit-chatting with one and another group of courtiers.

OOC:  Time passes.

Excusing herself from an agreeable conversation on Rebman fashion, Lly spots Rausch from the corner of the eye. She maneuvers around a pillar and inadvertantly bumps into Bernhardt Rausch.

"Duke, you again! It seems it is our fate to run into each other today!" She smiles, obviously pleased.

A messenger whom Rosalind recognizes from the embassy, rushes up, out of breath. After a few perfunctory gasps, she hands Rosalind an envelope of heavy cream parchment, addressed to her in flowing script. Rosalind knows before even looking that the blood red wax seal will bear the imprint of what look roughly like a crown and scepter (although Rosalind has stolen a peek at the signet itself, and in more detail it is obvious that the scepter is in fact an ax, stylized almost to the point of being unrecognizable).

"A message," the woman gasps, unnecessarily, "From King Random."

"I would looove to visit them in your company... Sea Caves always have that attraction on me... Like being of both worlds, Sea and Mountains. I am feeling so close to that..." She sighs.

"And of course you are versed in mineralogy, aren't you? You would be so much of a guide." She keeps her most charming smile, but scans every of his reaction with all her abilities."What kind of precious stones can you find in Carronack? I am so fond of some quartz crystalizations, like..." She frowns cutely, appearing to have the word on the tip of her tongue.

"Princess Llygwen," Rausch attempts gamely, "This is the Contessa Van Der Kade, she..."

"You simply must come to my soiree this evening," the Contessa insists, turning to Llygwen. "Anyone who can so fluster darling Bernhardt is a gem that we simply cannot pass over. Do say you'll come."

"I do not care for the way you are handling my cousin, Duke Rausch," Rosalind says coldly.

OOC: All right, Ginger, it's YOUR show!!!

She thrusts the note into a pocket of her heavy divided skirt, and draws out a pair of leather gloves, saying as she does so, "Duke Rausch, it is well known that your wife waits alone at night while you dabble in politics elsewhere. Do you really plan for your wife to accompany you to the country with my cousin, or would she fall conveniently ill this evening?"

Rosalind backhands Rausch with the gloves, just hard enough to sting but not hard enough to risk hitting either Llygwen or the Countess. "You, sir, are no gentleman. Name your second."

"I would gladly have apologized," he says, "for any imagined slight to Princess Llygwen. But your baseless slanders... those I will NOT tolerate! Count Van Gelft," he says turning to one of the men nearby, "will you stand with me against these treacherous lies?" The Count nods once, affirmatively.

"Very well," Rausch says. "Princess Rosalind, since you are a woman I will let you choose a champion to represent you, and they their own second of course."

Rosalind doesn't seem particularly concerned by the tenor of the crowd at the moment.

"Questions will wait." The voice is firm, but the sentence seems asserted more for herself than for Rosalind.

"Princess," he says seriously, "it is best if you leave such details to your own second, if you have one."

As she scans the crowd, Rosalind takes in the expressions of the junior staffers. They'll be the first ones to figure out what's really happening.

The staffers are all abuzz with the excitement of the event. Some of them seem fearful, some eager, some confused.

"Perhaps at dawn, then?" Sterk suggests. "Van Gelft will, of course, press for more time for Duke Rausch to put his affairs in order, but with both fighters so intent upon meeting...."

"But who can say?" Sterk concludes. He steps up to speak with Van Gelft, and after a moment the two seconds are able to step aside into one of the side galleries. After several minutes of increasingly brazen murmurs from the onlooking crowd, and of Rausch and Rosalind staring at each other in mute fury, the pair returns, both looking unhappy.

While Van Gelft goes to speak with Rausch, Sterk returns to speak with Rosalind. "Van Gelft wanted to put things off, to give Rausch a chance to consider things with a clearer head. But Duke Rausch was insistent, and his second has acceded to his request that the duel take place within the hour." Sterk shakes his head at the folly of the world in general.

"We have arranged a site," he says, "to which I am sure you will wish to retire without being followed, yes?"