constantin "tragic baroque painting" d'orsay (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
takeroot) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
felldenlogs2020-03-26 09:16 pm
takeroot) wrote in felldenlogs2020-03-26 09:16 pm
closed
WHO: Connie takeroot n Felix brothered
WHAT: quest
WHERE: Moon territory
WHEN: right the hell now
WARNINGS: nope
[It begins with a dinner, or rather, a dinner interrupted by a Temple messenger and honestly? Thoroughly ruined by news of civil unrest. Constantin remarks not... kindly, necessarily, that some people could learn to wait until after other people have finished eating before tossing news in their faces about a missing duke and a gaggle of local lords and ladies ready to stage whatever kind of coup that will work for them before the chair is cold, all while the civilians flounder. The messenger leaves and that ends what could have been an ordinary, relaxing evening, now spent picking at meals and murmuring to each other about what the plan of action should be for this kind of mission. Constantin can hazard a guess at why the two of them have been scouted for this task; one of them knows how to fight and the other knows how to talk, simple enough!
Still; as harrowing as it is to hear that an entire duchy is ready to collapse under mismanagement, he manages to spare a moment to tell Felix just how lucky it is that they've been sent to work together. Felix can hold the sword and Constantin can point him in politically optimal directions. It's the perfect plan! No, no— there isn't a plan, even the next morning when it's time to go.
Or rather, late into the next morning, as a duchy on the verge of collapse is important but the ride is going to be long and the business longer, and Constantin has a building full of children and one (1) anxious adult to look after them all for who knows how long. He doesn't dally, but it takes him some time to settle affairs at the orphanage; Ragnar needs to hear the itinerary for the days ahead no less than six times before his panic subsides (and fair to him, considering Constantin's predecessor was, hmm, abruptly murdered and left Ragnar all on his own); the twins need to be reminded how to behave (and demand an audience for their very impressive new sword skills with their toys before anyone is allowed to move on); the other children understand that Constantin will be away, there are plenty of hugs, Luther in particular won't let go of him for the better part of fifteen minutes— but finally, in the late late morning, that business is done.
He meets Felix again on horseback, chatters something nonsensical about how Dorte had better not try bothering Marigold the farm horse, you know, because Dorte is so fond of flowers— and he deserves whatever rolling eyes he gets for that one. Then they're off.
As expected, the ride is long; it's seemingly no secret why they've arrived when they do, a handful of townsfolk in the city around the duke's manor eyeing them critically as they ride in and more servants doing the same in the manor itself. The meeting with the duke's advisor is brief and just about as clipped as the missive that brought them here; the duke is in trouble, etc, a lowborn man rising to power and making some choices that the other nobility don't agree with, and so on— Constantin can't say he's surprised the man is being threatened. Most courts are dens of vipers, and to have a commoner risen to power is a surefire way to raise tempers among the old money...
Eventually they're left alone, the two of them, to stand around in the duke's abandoned office and— well, who knows what they're meant to do, the advisor had merely told them to wait while some secret communication with the duke is made and who knows how long that will take, but the door closes and Constantin immediately drops himself into the duke's very fine chair and picks up the topmost letter on the pile on his desk.
The man's already in hiding! A little invasion of privacy is par for the course! This is helping. He skims a few lines, humming, and glances up at Felix.]
They know all of his deep dark secrets, apparently, [he says, waving the sheet of paper a little.] I've never seen a more vaguely-worded threat in my life. Do you suppose they were fishing, and like a fool he bit?
[Let him just rifle through more of these... hmm yes... The cheaper paper in the pile gets his attention; he skims one again and scoffs, just holding that one out for Felix to take.
Like, what kind of fool writes to his old bandit gang about their bandit plans? No wonder!]
takeroot n Felix brotheredWHAT: quest
WHERE: Moon territory
WHEN: right the hell now
WARNINGS: nope
[It begins with a dinner, or rather, a dinner interrupted by a Temple messenger and honestly? Thoroughly ruined by news of civil unrest. Constantin remarks not... kindly, necessarily, that some people could learn to wait until after other people have finished eating before tossing news in their faces about a missing duke and a gaggle of local lords and ladies ready to stage whatever kind of coup that will work for them before the chair is cold, all while the civilians flounder. The messenger leaves and that ends what could have been an ordinary, relaxing evening, now spent picking at meals and murmuring to each other about what the plan of action should be for this kind of mission. Constantin can hazard a guess at why the two of them have been scouted for this task; one of them knows how to fight and the other knows how to talk, simple enough!
Still; as harrowing as it is to hear that an entire duchy is ready to collapse under mismanagement, he manages to spare a moment to tell Felix just how lucky it is that they've been sent to work together. Felix can hold the sword and Constantin can point him in politically optimal directions. It's the perfect plan! No, no— there isn't a plan, even the next morning when it's time to go.
Or rather, late into the next morning, as a duchy on the verge of collapse is important but the ride is going to be long and the business longer, and Constantin has a building full of children and one (1) anxious adult to look after them all for who knows how long. He doesn't dally, but it takes him some time to settle affairs at the orphanage; Ragnar needs to hear the itinerary for the days ahead no less than six times before his panic subsides (and fair to him, considering Constantin's predecessor was, hmm, abruptly murdered and left Ragnar all on his own); the twins need to be reminded how to behave (and demand an audience for their very impressive new sword skills with their toys before anyone is allowed to move on); the other children understand that Constantin will be away, there are plenty of hugs, Luther in particular won't let go of him for the better part of fifteen minutes— but finally, in the late late morning, that business is done.
He meets Felix again on horseback, chatters something nonsensical about how Dorte had better not try bothering Marigold the farm horse, you know, because Dorte is so fond of flowers— and he deserves whatever rolling eyes he gets for that one. Then they're off.
As expected, the ride is long; it's seemingly no secret why they've arrived when they do, a handful of townsfolk in the city around the duke's manor eyeing them critically as they ride in and more servants doing the same in the manor itself. The meeting with the duke's advisor is brief and just about as clipped as the missive that brought them here; the duke is in trouble, etc, a lowborn man rising to power and making some choices that the other nobility don't agree with, and so on— Constantin can't say he's surprised the man is being threatened. Most courts are dens of vipers, and to have a commoner risen to power is a surefire way to raise tempers among the old money...
Eventually they're left alone, the two of them, to stand around in the duke's abandoned office and— well, who knows what they're meant to do, the advisor had merely told them to wait while some secret communication with the duke is made and who knows how long that will take, but the door closes and Constantin immediately drops himself into the duke's very fine chair and picks up the topmost letter on the pile on his desk.
The man's already in hiding! A little invasion of privacy is par for the course! This is helping. He skims a few lines, humming, and glances up at Felix.]
They know all of his deep dark secrets, apparently, [he says, waving the sheet of paper a little.] I've never seen a more vaguely-worded threat in my life. Do you suppose they were fishing, and like a fool he bit?
[Let him just rifle through more of these... hmm yes... The cheaper paper in the pile gets his attention; he skims one again and scoffs, just holding that one out for Felix to take.
Like, what kind of fool writes to his old bandit gang about their bandit plans? No wonder!]
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And really, Felix's strength lies in bluntly pointing out idiocy in the here and now; using the Priestess' opinion as leverage doesn't even occur to him at this particular point in time, but Constantin wields it as a surprisingly effective weapon—and Felix enjoys watching the color drain from this coward's face. Aha. It doesn't matter how poorly Archimedes was prepared for his position, or what good he thought he was bringing into the world by stealing from the rich for the supposed sake of the poor; running away from the sticky situation of his own making—risking another's life in place of his own—shows his true character. Disgusting.
So as Constantin catches his eye before continuing right along—hmm. He holds that gaze for a moment, ignoring Archimedes' babbling in the background—something about how his plan is safe, how all contingencies have been (impossibly) accounted for—as he frowns. The ideal plan would involve a single Archimedes prancing about the party? The real Archimedes, ensuring that whatever attack comes is directed at the person so desperate to avoid it. The real danger would be minimal, should Felix remain by his side—which he would, because while Felix dislikes the man, Felix doesn't want to see him dead. The duchy is unstable enough as it is.
But Constantin looks... serious about this. He clearly has his wits about him; this isn't, like, some silly attempt to prove himself, and yet that doesn't make Felix feel any... better about it? His allies's willingness to put themselves in the line of fire has always been a point of contention, and this is no different—and yet it is, in the sense that Felix remembers the talk they'd had not so very long ago. A tipsy—on his part, anyway—discussion of life and what it means. Constantin's life is...
Constantin's life is his, and thus this call is his to make. It's always about choice, even if something about this tastes bitter.]
There should be one. You, [he snaps, shooting Archimedes a Look in case that wasn't perfectly clear. But after the briefest of pauses, grudgingly:] ...But two would split the assassin's attention. Make them easier to spot.
[Theoretically, anyway. Felix already knows he'd need to call in his still unnamed mercenary band, just to have extra eyes he trusts, but it's... doable. Aggravating, yet doable.
And so the next hour is spent hammering out the dirty details, with Constantin, the resident diplomat, stepping in whenever things get too heated. The rules are simple: Felix and Constantin will oversee the set-up of the party itself, familiarizing themselves with every nook and cranny of the ballroom. Archimedes will make his way back to his manor the eve of the party, acting as though nothing at all is amiss, and before the party begins, Constantin will take on his unfortunate visage to serve as a decoy. Felix's mercenaries will be split between them, and Felix himself will focus on spotting the assassin before—well. Before things get out of hand.
It is, without a doubt, the stupidest plan Felix has ever worked with. He knows it. He suspects that Archimedes, despite his bluster, knows it, as well, and so he makes a point to remind the man of Constantin's earlier point. If he doesn't show up to his own party, Felix and Constantin will leave him to report back to the Priestess. They will. It's a promise.
But the deal is struck! Felix and Constantin are back atop their horses with little ceremony, and if Felix settles for grunts and hums on the ride back to the duke's manor... ah, well. He's processing things, in his own way. Resisting the urge to snap at Constantin for being so willing to risk his life for such an idiot, because even he knows it wouldn't be productive now that things are... settled.
...No, no. There's little point to talking until they're back in the duke's study, waiting for his assistant to show them to their rooms when they're finally prepared. At least he left them a tea platter on the duke's desk? Thoughtful. Not that Felix gives it more than a quick glance; he waits for the assistant to finish telling Constantin something or other, waiting only for the door to click behind the man before he shifts his attention back to Constantin.]
Two dukes?
[There is a displeased edge to his voice as he once again studies Constantin, because really, sir. Really. You had to suggest this. You're 100% down for this.]
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It's messy, and it's stupid, but there is one point in the whole plan that Constantin has faith in, and that part is Felix.
The details are laid out, and they'll be reviewed and reviewed again tomorrow night and the night after, before the party, and that's... good enough. The ride back is awkward, as is the walk back to the study... Constantin sinks into the duke's chair again, graciously resisting the urge to quip about how this whole study might as well be his now, ha ha.
And right on cue, there's the disapproval—]
I know, I know! It was the only way to force him to attend his own stupid party short of actual blackmail...
[He still has the bundle of letters and incriminating ledgers shoved in his coat, after all. Tossing around tattling to the Priestess worked because Archimedes is a punk, but who knows! Maybe they'll still need these.
Constantin sighs and leans on the desk, head in his hands. Cool, so, some choices were made tonight...]
For what it's worth, thank you for sticking by me.
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But something, something, Felix and Constantin needed even a tiny amount of his trust—and, perhaps more importantly, they need his men to help secure the ballroom. His mercenaries—which he makes a mental note to send word to, knowing they'll be here by tomorrow evening—are skilled, yes, but there are only five of them, and Archimedes' men are familiar with the ins-and-outs of these little soirées.
So, you know. Politics™. Still stupid, in Felix's opinion, but as he watches Constantin lower his head, he decides to keep that particular nugget of wisdom to himself. It's one thing to agree to something in the heat of the moment; it's another thing to come face-to-face with that decision when things have calmed.]
Hm.
[Just a simple noise of acknowledgement as Felix shifts, because Felix isn't about to tell Constantin he's welcome for this, like, most basic of things. Surely sticking by his side was expected? Presenting a united front was indeed important, and Felix certainly didn't have time to think of a better solution, but also: they're them. So.]
It was... a bold approach. You seemed determined. [A beat, and then, bluntly:] And now?
[Like, what's the Vibe.]
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If I were in charge I would have him hanged for being a liar and a criminal.
[Maybe drawn and quartered... cutting off thieves' hands is an old classic. Point being: he wouldn't waste time with petty politics if he were in the Priestess' position, and given how she's responded to Otherworlders messing around where they shouldn't, he wonders if their fool plan hasn't actually saved Archimedes' neck.
Like, not that he's earned it. The moron. But it is what it is.
With a truly laborious sigh he looks up, fingers dragging down his face, Peak(tm) drama. Ugh, this sucks, what did he DO that for!!]
He would have run this entire territory into the ground and taken all of those people with him if he wasn't dragged into the thick of it. You know it's true.
[So, ultimately, this is for them? Kind of? Archimedes can go screw, but his people- and that includes the nobles- don't deserve it.]
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And while Felix impassively watches Constantin's dramatics, he isn't heartless, or so dense as to fail to realize what that stress can do to a person. Does Constantin deserve that? Hmm. He made his choice, yes, but Felix still doesn't think that he does.]
He needed to be dragged into the thick of it. You didn't.
[And that's the crux of it all, really, because while Felix has spent the past five years fighting a war? While he's used to risking his life? Constantin both... is and isn't, Felix thinks, and so he abruptly shifts his eyes up to the map behind the desk, thinking of how to word the complicated thing he wishes to say.]
...I told you your life was important, once. Too important for stupid risks. [A pause, then, before he looks back down at the man on the other side of this desk and gruffly adds:] That hasn't changed.
[Remember wine night? Felix does.]
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Is he going to do it? Yes. Is he going to do it specifically out of spite for additional leverage over this duke to force him to do his job properly? Also yes.
He's beyond grateful for Felix— both for his very capable sword skills and his overall presence, and if the look he gives him is a little watery, well, leave him alone. Saying something like that, please...]
I— yes, I know. This time I've truly gotten it out of my system.
[Haha? Maybe? Perhaps if a messenger comes around again he'll pretend he isn't home for as long as it takes...
He moves to stand then, raising a hand to maybe, boldly, reach out for Felix, but it's that precise moment the assistant returns to lead them to their rooms. And spare a frown for the untouched tea tray, but never mind that. So, ah, maybe next time! Now is apparently the time for sulking about his dumb choices in a guest room.]
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And then, after sending word to his mercenaries in Hesperia, Felix can spend the remainder of the night ripping apart this reckless plan—and considering the state of the duchy as a whole. Obviously stopping one assassin is a short-term fix for a long-term problem? The person—people—willing to hire an assassin will surely be willing to hire another, and the feckless duke will surely continue his crimes, so long as he believes he's helping... so all in all: it's a mess. A multi-layered mess that will require someone—someones—to put in moons of work, because Felix knows what it takes to successfully run a duchy. There are policies to rework, nobles to bring into line—and such things require trust, which is, understandably, in rather short supply.
...For the umpteenth time today, Felix finds himself thinking of his father. Less of the man and more of the duke, really, because Felix doesn't—Felix didn't need to see eye-to-eye with Rodrigue to recognize how smoothly Fraldarius territory functioned with him at the helm. What would he make of this mess...
It's not, like, the best night of sleep Felix has ever enjoyed—and the following day is far from the best day, even when his mercenaries make their (surprisingly subdued) entrance. Felix is mildly impressed—and rewards them by immediately putting them to work, as is tradition. Yulia, the leader, sticks by Felix's side, the both of them taking stock of even the smallest things as they discuss strategy; the other four are tasked with speaking with servants and familiarizing themselves with every nook and cranny of the manor. It's a flurry of activity, with Felix determined to make every second count.
But there are times when everything... slows? When Felix et al. are hastily fitted for party-worthy attire, or when Felix makes a point to dine with Constantin. They have much to discuss, of course; the plan is theirs, but Felix also keeps a sharp eye on the other man, offering the quiet support of both his presence and his confidence. Things are progressing as well as can be expected, given the limited time-frame, so...
...So. Soon—very soon—it's the eve of the party, and after checking in with his mercenaries (disguised as manor guards) and the duke's men (disguised, as ever, as servants), Felix changes into his ridiculous outfit—midnight blue something-or-other, with a "decorative" sword half-hidden beneath the asymmetrical cape he did, in fact, insist upon—and makes his way to the ballroom. He's to keep a low profile, which is easy enough for someone as antisocial as himself; the duke(s), if prompted, will tell any curious nobles that he received his invitation to this get-together after taking down a particularly nasty beast along the duchy's border, which ties in well with his title. It is, Felix supposes, a decent enough cover, although he doubts everyone will be fooled. So it goes. Pulling the wool over the nobles' eyes matters far, far less, where he's concerned.
Constantin, however, is another matter entirely, and Felix does his best to remain in his periphery at all times, surreptitiously monitoring both his interactions and the reactions of those around him. The duke's men are circulating throughout the crowd; Felix's men are close enough to the dukes to spring into action as needed; Felix himself is poised and ready to take out any perceived threat, but until one shows itself... well, what is there to do, other than pretend to enjoy this stifling, obnoxiously loud party.]
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But it sours his mood that much more each time he steps back from the organization and the details and the work to remember that very thing: Archimedes himself. A poor leader and even worse financier, good god! Surely the real goal here is to educate the man in how to be less of a buffoon at his own job! So it's the waiting around to save his miserable life from assassins first that gets under Constantin's skin, and he appreciates Felix's presence at his side, at meals... but when there's a lull in organizing their scheme he has none of his usual quips to offer, or anything really. His heart just isn't in it!
He spends a lot of time staring out the window in the duke's study in silence, but listen- listen. He's alright.
The spell to mask his appearance is quick and easy when the time comes, the one thing Archimedes has managed to be honest about in his entire career, Constantin is sure— and as soon as they've confirmed Archimedes is here and Felix's people have eyes on him, Constantin is glad for the excuse to be as far from Archimedes as possible. He hates the outfit. He hates the party. He's decidedly not enjoying himself, but he's not enjoyed enough parties in his life to hide it perfectly, chattering away with the nobles that approach him and pointedly holding eye contact for just a little too long for comfort to gauge the reactions he receives.
It's boring, but Archimedes is supposed to be charming and even if Constantin wholly disagrees, he knows what to do. That includes not looking twice at the real Archimedes across the room, something the duke himself fails to keep in mind... Cool, add another point to the list of subtleties the man has to learn, and soon.
It's on Constantin's third graciously accepted and casually returned untouched flute of champagne that he pauses, about to set the glass on a servant's tray. He's met the servants of the house, that was part of the plan, and yet here is one staring back at him that he's never seen before. The startled look of confusion must give him away, as seconds later he's quite abruptly knocked to the ground with a tray of broken glasses, so—]
Felix—! [Hello!! Fuck the ruse!!!]
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But as Felix shifts his attention back to Constantin, watching the crowd ebb and flow around him—and a servant approach him, which? Hmm. Many servants have approached him, throughout the night, but something about the way this one moves captures Felix's attention, sends his brow furrowing as the man—certainly not one of the duke's—holds up his tray... and then hurtles forward.
Ah.
The two mercenaries assigned to Constantin are immediately on the move, shoving their way through the crowd—but as Felix is closest, Felix is there first, driving his shoulder into the assassin's side before the man fully draws his weapon. There's no, like, pitched battle that follows? No crossing blades in the middle of the ballroom, despite what operas would have people believe, because Felix doesn't even have room to draw his blade; there's simply Felix atop the assassin, fending off blows as he works to give as good as he gets. Punches are thrown; kicks are attempted; a dagger is, at some point, slid across the floor, sending the crowd stumbling over one another in their haste to avoid it. Subduing the assassin is, in short, just as Messy as everything else has been.
But this particular process is quick, at least? Oh, it probably feels like it takes a solid hour, but Dexterity has nothing on Strength in a 1v1 brawl, thanks; Felix soon has the upper hand, and by the time the two mercenaries have helped Constantin up and ensured that he is more or less unharmed, Felix is dragging the semiconscious man up by the back of his collar. Then there's, you know. Little things to take care of, like patting the man down before allowing the others to lead him away. He needs to be interrogated. Thoroughly. And the crowd needs to be controlled, which Yulia, thankfully, takes it upon herself to see to... and the real Duke Archimedes needs to be led away...
...And Felix needs to check on Constantin. Obviously. Just give him a moment here, please, to swipe a hand beneath his bloodied nose as he gives Constantin a quick once-over, not caring that he's staining his nice new outfit. There's always a sort of... thrill that follows a fight well fought? A fight won? But it pales in comparison to the relief he feels when he realizes that Constantin is... shaken, yes, but ultimately safe. Felix steps closer, ignoring the, like, dozens of people still crowded around them as he reaches out to place a hand on Constantin's shoulder. This disguise... is disgustink... and despite the mix of emotions Felix is indeed feeling, they can't really afford to have A Moment in the middle of all this chaos, so:]
The study, [Felix instructs, giving his shoulder the lightest of squeezes.] Take the duke and go. Yulia will lead you.
[She is, in fact, already on her way over, presumably coming to check in with Felix. Everything moves so quickly in situations like this; Felix knows he has a cool dozen things to immediately take care of, but before he pulls his hand away:]
I'll be there when I can.
[And he WILL be! Give the duke a piece of your mind in his absence, Connie.]
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Just stands there, mostly. There's a lot of just standing there with a bit of idly brushing tiny bits of glass off his ugly coat. He's not any worse for wear, no, but it's all he can do to simply nod at Felix and let himself be led out of the room. The nobles are already whispering, and sure to notice there are two dukes in here as they leave at roughly the same time, but whatever! Whatever.
If one of the dukes happens to turn to the other before the doors shut behind them and declare, with with renewed vigor, that his parties are terrible the same way being face down in a pool of one's own vomit is terrible, then Constantin is probably feeling a little better once he's away from the crowd. Don't worry too much about him.
By the time he and Felix can meet again, Constantin has certainly made his opinions on the whole affair abundantly clear. It's quiet in the duke's study save for the persistent scratching of a quill on paper; Constantin is disguise-free at last, leaning against the corner of the desk with his arms folded and a permanent scowl that he directs pointedly down at the duke whenever the man stops writing for more than a few seconds. Eventually he finishes this... task and hands Constantin the paper, which he skims—]
Your efforts?
[—and drops back down on the desk dismissively. He's mad! This sucked! But he's spent two days now thinking of ways to bring this duchy out of the gutter, starting with this task he's put Archimedes to in exchange for nearly being murdered in his home.
His expression softens when Felix enters, if only a little. He gestures at Archimedes.]
He's writing a speech for his lords to smooth over this annoying mess.
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But one doesn't have to like it, hence Felix's dismissive snort (ow, his nose) when he's told what, exactly, Archimedes is furiously scribbling. Of course the man would highlight his "efforts" in such a speech—and perhaps he needs to, in order to look even the slightest bit competent, but Felix wonders how much time said speech will buy him. A moon? Two? It's a necessary first step, but as Felix thinks of the incredibly long road ahead of this fool...]
Empty words. His specialty.
[He sure does like to hear himself talk! Damn! Felix approaches the desk, coming to a stop by Constantin's side as he glares down at the duke.]
Your men are holding your assassin; my men are holding them. This isn't over. [So don't try anything, least of all an escape, his tone implies—but when Archimedes, smooth dastard, attempts to respond, Felix shifts his attention back to Constantin. Hey. Hi. Thank the Goddess that face is back to normal.] What will his speech cover?
[Aka: What are you making him write? Maybe he should write to the Priestess, next... something along the lines of, "Dear Priestess, I did done fuck up real bad"...]
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That the investigations into this terrible plot are continuing as planned, [ugh, it's the exact feeling of having a hair on his tongue--] and he will be looking to the support of his court in the coming weeks to straighten out a few things.
[To trim the fat, but politely? Whoever is sending assassins is very guilty, even if Archimedes deserved a good reality check that Constantin had to take for him goddamn it Archimedes.]
We have been having a disagreement on the subject of reparations to the people he stole from, in light of where the money has since gone...
[Archimedes is on team Worth It and Constantin is on team You Nearly Died For Pickpocketing, so it's slow going.]
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But yes, yes. Reparations. Felix finds himself wondering if a look through the nobles' books would prove as, ah, fruitful as a look through the duke's had been? Not to excuse the duke in any way, of course, but for things to reach this point... perhaps the duke before Archimedes gave them too much leeway, or perhaps Archimedes (unknowingly) offered them more leeway than they'd ever enjoyed before. Politics! Just as gross (and as necessary) as this performative speech. Felix brings a hand up to scrub at his face, and if he winces when he touches his nose without really thinking about it, well. Don't call him out.]
Money isn't all a duke has to offer.
[Power. Positions. A greater voice in whatever new system is put into place, although there will need to be someone here to ensure said voice doesn't supersede the duke's. Felix's personal opinion of the man aside, Archimedes is the duke, and dealing with a duke is preferable to dealing with nobles running rampant...
...But he doesn't need to explain such things to Constantin, of all people, so.]
Whatever he offers them, they'll demand punishment for his thieves. [Stressin' that ownership. Love it.] Turn them over to the Priestess.
[It's a suggestion! One that sends Archimedes squawking, but maybe she can throw them in prison... get them out of the nobles' line of sight for a bit, until tempers cool and Felix and Constantin figure out what to do with them. In an ideal world, the duke would realize the gravity of his position and sever all ties—but alas! This whole debacle has proven that he will not.]
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Someone will have to take the brunt of this... [And boy, it should be this dude right here! But he has only one saving grace that Constantin can't guarantee any of the other candidates have,] But if he's willing to help his citizens in ways that aren't abysmally stupid, that can be worked out.
[He says this... to Felix, but it's pointedly for Archimedes to remember to get over himself; he started stealing to help his people, didn't he? Cool motive, still a crime, and yet somehow Constantin is still willing to leave a man in charge who gives a damn about the little people.
Or, well. In charge, with some very heavy moderation, because the current model is terrible but uprooting the entire governing body of this duchy is even harder than fixing what they've been given. He sighs.]
I suppose we'll have to return and check on things every now and then, won't we?
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Well! There are ways to put them to use, Felix supposes. Taking their, ah, highly specialized knowledge and using it to catch bandits, perhaps—but that's a late-stage thing. For now, it's more about whipping Archimedes into shape while ensuring his duchy doesn't crumble apart in the process.]
He's proven he can't manage alone.
[So that is... a yes, unfortunately! And while Felix briefly considers asking the Priestess to send an experienced advisor to gently coach Archimedes through these troubled times? Nah. The Priestess elevated Archimedes to this position, and thus Felix isn't, mmm, entirely sure that Archimedes wouldn't be supervised by Archimedes the Second. Isn't that a thought!
Where, then, does that leave them? In an unfortunate position, to be sure, but that's the price of Responsibility; Felix knows that all too well, which is why he holds Constantin's gaze for a moment, shoving his own misgivings aside before he brings his hand back down to his hip. Constantin is the more, ah, politically-minded of the two, so.]
...I'll return to the Temple. Speak with the Priestess. You stay here and make sure he doesn't cause any more trouble.
[That he doesn't wind up burning the duchy down around himself. Goddess above.]
Yulia and the rest will stay here. They'll protect you—and him, [he huffs, the pointed Look he directs down at Archimedes saying all that needs to be said re: Felix's opinion.] I'll be quick.
[Which is, like, not a thing Constantin has asked of him, but? Constantin has his children to get back to... and it isn't as though Felix is eager to leave Constantin for longer than he absolutely needs to, although he's loath to admit it. There was something about seeing an assassin tackle him that was... well... you know...]
~fin~
Well, be quick, and so on.]
Alright. I'm sure we'll get along splendidly here. [and, dryly:] Thick as thieves.
[Archimedes, to his credit, winces.
And so proceeds a very thrilling several days of Learning To Govern and Making Apologetic Speeches. Constantin has the ability necessary to smooth over most of the nobles' most upset moods, at least enough to keep things from imploding anytime soon— and Archimedes is... not the ideal student of The Politics, but he isn't unwilling? He's a work in progress, that's for sure. Constantin still can't say he likes him very much, all things said and done.
But the dust has settled, or will soon enough, and with a stern guiding hand perhaps the duchy will be back on course sooner rather than later.]