skin, bone, and arrogance
Northeast of Avalonia, nestled into a mountainous region, the estate of Breakriver stood. It was unmapped, protected by anonymity and its proximity -- or lack thereof -- to anything resembling civilization. It had been built some years ago by Natasi Fortan as a secret hideaway from the rigors of the capital. She had fond memories of the place; it had served as a retreat and a love nest, and during the first Siege of Dosuun, as headquarters for a resistance movements. There had been several men connected to this place that Natasi held dear that were now gone from her life: a lover, Darrell Irani; a cousin that was more of a brother, Pierce Fortan; dear friends and advisers, Roderik von Brinkerhoff and Rolf Amsel; a spouse, Talbot Vitalis. They were all gone, now, one way or another. Dead. Missing. Or alive and well, better off without her in their lives.
It was only mildly painful to be there, Natasi reflected as her boat bobbed merrily along the river. It was more a wistful kind of feeling, a dull ache as she remembered the good times.
The boat arrived and docked itself at the small platform at the foot of the stairs. Hendersmith the Younger, as Natasi had taken to calling him, stood waiting with some of the other indoor staff: the housekeeper, the footman, and the cook. Hendersmith the Younger was her longtime butler's grandson; Hendersmith the Elder remained at Herevan Hold on Galidraan in semi-retirement, but present to lord over grand occasions as needed. The strapping young man bowed respectfully, then held a hand out to help his mistress onto the platform, which Natasi took with an appreciative smile. "Mr. Hendersmith, how nice to see you," she said. "I trust you found everything settled here?"
"There was some trouble with the boiler, Your Majesty," he said. "But the plumber has been out to fix it. Everything else is like new."
"Very good," said Natasi. "I have some bags back in the shuttle, and the dog. He didn't seem very convinced with the boat."
"We'll fetch them, ma'am," said Hendersmith.
"Thank you," Natasi said, looking past the man to the others. "Hello. It's nice to see everyone." Natasi drew her shawl around her shoulders and edged away from the water, the rushing sound giving her a chill. She mounted the steps and ascended into Breakriver. The house was unorthodox, to be certain, and in a million years anyone who knew Natasi wouldn't expect to associate it with her. That was partially by design; it had really been built to give her a place where she needn't have been Lady Natasi Fortan at all, nor Grand Moff Fortan. The idea had been to build a place where she could be comfortable, where Irani could unwind, and where they could be together without so much fuss about protocol and the press.
Natasi sighed wistfully and looked around the large open living room. She surveyed the room, frowning a little. It seemed... modern, but dated somehow. Shabby. Both exactly as she had remembered it, and simultaneously less impressive. But, she reminded herself, it was not the penthouse at the Avalonia Grand Hotel, and it was hers, which would have to suffice until her palace was completed. A fire roared in the stone fireplace; she moved her slender frame to be near it as the staff entered behind her. Only Hendersmith lingered. "Mrs. Clarke asks whether you'd like to go over the menus, Your Majesty, and Mrs. Forbershire if she needs to ready any of the guest bedrooms."
"I trust Mrs. Clarke," said Natasi. "Her menu will be fine. Ask her to prepare meals for two for tonight and tomorrow, and ask Mrs. Forbershire to make up the green room. And Mr. Hendersmith, I wonder if you might communicate a summons for me to the Home Secretary. Inform her that I'm at Breakriver and that she will deliver my box to me. She can stay for tea or for dinner or as long as she likes. But be sure she understands that she must arrive in time for tea." She glanced at her watch. That would give Ariel an hour and a half to pack and an hour to travel.
"Right away, ma'am," said Hendersmith, crossing to the bar to pick up a silver tray. He turned back to Natasi, offering the tray. "I took the liberty of mixing you a cocktail. My grandfather said you preferred a gin and tonic after traveling."
Natasi half-turned, a smirk on her lips. "I absolutely do," said Natasi, taking the drink from the tray. "Bless him. Thank you. Oh, before I forget, would you ask the footman to bring my briefcase in here? And show Moff Yvarro in when she arrives, no need to wait." She placed herself on one of the ottomans near the fire and sipped her drink. Young Hendersmith was a little heavier on the gin pour than his grandfather, but Natasi wouldn't complain. It was nice to unwind.
It was only mildly painful to be there, Natasi reflected as her boat bobbed merrily along the river. It was more a wistful kind of feeling, a dull ache as she remembered the good times.
The boat arrived and docked itself at the small platform at the foot of the stairs. Hendersmith the Younger, as Natasi had taken to calling him, stood waiting with some of the other indoor staff: the housekeeper, the footman, and the cook. Hendersmith the Younger was her longtime butler's grandson; Hendersmith the Elder remained at Herevan Hold on Galidraan in semi-retirement, but present to lord over grand occasions as needed. The strapping young man bowed respectfully, then held a hand out to help his mistress onto the platform, which Natasi took with an appreciative smile. "Mr. Hendersmith, how nice to see you," she said. "I trust you found everything settled here?"
"There was some trouble with the boiler, Your Majesty," he said. "But the plumber has been out to fix it. Everything else is like new."
"Very good," said Natasi. "I have some bags back in the shuttle, and the dog. He didn't seem very convinced with the boat."
"We'll fetch them, ma'am," said Hendersmith.
"Thank you," Natasi said, looking past the man to the others. "Hello. It's nice to see everyone." Natasi drew her shawl around her shoulders and edged away from the water, the rushing sound giving her a chill. She mounted the steps and ascended into Breakriver. The house was unorthodox, to be certain, and in a million years anyone who knew Natasi wouldn't expect to associate it with her. That was partially by design; it had really been built to give her a place where she needn't have been Lady Natasi Fortan at all, nor Grand Moff Fortan. The idea had been to build a place where she could be comfortable, where Irani could unwind, and where they could be together without so much fuss about protocol and the press.
Natasi sighed wistfully and looked around the large open living room. She surveyed the room, frowning a little. It seemed... modern, but dated somehow. Shabby. Both exactly as she had remembered it, and simultaneously less impressive. But, she reminded herself, it was not the penthouse at the Avalonia Grand Hotel, and it was hers, which would have to suffice until her palace was completed. A fire roared in the stone fireplace; she moved her slender frame to be near it as the staff entered behind her. Only Hendersmith lingered. "Mrs. Clarke asks whether you'd like to go over the menus, Your Majesty, and Mrs. Forbershire if she needs to ready any of the guest bedrooms."
"I trust Mrs. Clarke," said Natasi. "Her menu will be fine. Ask her to prepare meals for two for tonight and tomorrow, and ask Mrs. Forbershire to make up the green room. And Mr. Hendersmith, I wonder if you might communicate a summons for me to the Home Secretary. Inform her that I'm at Breakriver and that she will deliver my box to me. She can stay for tea or for dinner or as long as she likes. But be sure she understands that she must arrive in time for tea." She glanced at her watch. That would give Ariel an hour and a half to pack and an hour to travel.
"Right away, ma'am," said Hendersmith, crossing to the bar to pick up a silver tray. He turned back to Natasi, offering the tray. "I took the liberty of mixing you a cocktail. My grandfather said you preferred a gin and tonic after traveling."
Natasi half-turned, a smirk on her lips. "I absolutely do," said Natasi, taking the drink from the tray. "Bless him. Thank you. Oh, before I forget, would you ask the footman to bring my briefcase in here? And show Moff Yvarro in when she arrives, no need to wait." She placed herself on one of the ottomans near the fire and sipped her drink. Young Hendersmith was a little heavier on the gin pour than his grandfather, but Natasi wouldn't complain. It was nice to unwind.