That next morning Old Froggardly and myself made our way to meet with Monsieur De La Roi and have myself introduced to the services of his court as the new scion to the court of Berlin's House of Fionna. But before we underwent any such trip, Old Froggardly had berated me on allowing an intruder to barge into our hotel room. He had told me that Paris is a place where you absollutley can not trust anyone. Everyone here has the intent to steal from you in your sleep. However, I thought that the old pooka was embilishing a little, but his scorn seem legitimate, after all, Margot's customer had broken into our room last night and did steal into Old Froggardly's room.
"Mind yourself, boy," he had told me, "and watch yourself, Paris is a den of thieves."
If it is I would like to find out why it is and why it continues to be. Who are these commoners who dance in the streets at night here? In my homeland we have nothing so debaucherous as the Underworld here. I felt as if Germany had never progressed much; sure we have moving pictures and the such, but other than that, what have we to show for it. I truly felt out of touch during these days here in Paris, after all I am a noble, tucked away in Lady Brumhilde's house going through my duties of becoming scion to her court. There was something seductive, something so intriguing that these Bohemians possessed that I so wanted to become a part of. I want to adapt my fellow nobles with the modern age.
But I digress, it was this morning that we made our way out into the countryside by means of horse drawn carriage. Monsieur De la Roi's land was vast. He owned a great deal and owned his own grove where, as I was told, he enjoys most of his time hunting game in. The stables he has on his land is indeed enough to make anyone envious, he keeps only the finest of the equistrian breed. But that was merely his land, his house, rather, his mansion was palatial in the most extravagagant French style. Large doors and equally tall windows, giant crystal chandaliers, imaculate staircases, this place was amazing.
Old Froggardly had instructed the custodian to go fetch Monsieur De le Roi and we were then shown to a magnificent grande hallway where we awaited our audience with the nobleman.
I spent my time waiting for the Monsieur by admiring some of his collection on the wall. The frescoes and oils had come from all around the world. I made out some familiar names like Raphael, Da Vinci, and Van Gogh. These peices alone would go for a king's ransom and from my understanding this was merely a fraction of his collection. In his private rooms he has paintings from more valuable artists from the fae blooded. Artwork to the likes of which no mortal has never seen and are solely enjoyed by the few faerie nobles that exist, even then, only a few among them have seen such masterpeices.
"Ah, Hier Froggardly and Hier Klause, how good of you to come to my home, may I offer you some wine," Monsieur De le Roi said as he entered the room with his escorts. I promptly turned around nad followed suit with Old Froggardly and gave a bow to the noble.
"Ah, Monsieur, some wine would be too much trouble, we must decline," Froggardly siad, this sounded off color for him, being the present scion, refusing drink from a noble.
"I see through you, old pooka, I'll have my finest vintage brought out at once, come, sit," the lord said as he led us to some fine leather chairs. His attendants served some wine and handed each of us a glass.
"Hier Klause, I have heard many things about you," the Monsiuer said.
"All good things, I hope, my lord," I returned.
"Oh my, yes Klause, yes. From what I understand you are going to become the new scion to the Berlin court of Fionna," he said to me.
"Yes, that's correct."
"This role has a great deal of responsibility, will this interfere in your social life. After all, a man of your age has a wife, no," the Monsieur asked. He plucked a chocolate from a dish and put it into his mouh in such a dainty manner.
"Actually, sir, I am not married, my studies have taken up most of my time, I've not found the time to spend on girls these days," I then followed that by taking a sip from my glass, the wine was good, superior in fact to any I had had before.
"You like it," the Monsiuer asked as if reading my thoughts on the wine, "the grapes come from my vinyard and my vessels make the wine on my land. By far I beleive that this is the best wine I have had ever."
"It is excellent, my lord," I admitted and sat the glass aside, I found it spooky when he spoke about his wine. So I took it then to bring myself up to speed with the French court, to show that I have learned something under Old Froggardly's tutorage.
"Monsieur De le Roi, I understand it that this is hallow land and that you actualy have a bale fire on your property. How exciting that you own a freehold. As I understand your forefathers had defended it against the Famorian clan during the Gaul era," I brought up.
"Very good, Hier Klause, you have done your homework, bravo," the monsiuer said.
"I am truly fascinated by the historic events surrounding your court and its affairs in House Fionna and the crusade against the Winter. Like the time when Lord Le Roi charged his vessels against Chief Wolfegarr's soldiers in the battle against the Thallain," I began.
"Stop, you embarrass me, I'm blushing. Hier Froggardly, your assistant here is too kind with his words, I beleive I will enjoy his company as scion to the House."
After hearing that I truly felt accepted. I was no longer just a vessel to Lady Brumhilde, I was now scion to Fionna, which in return is just another vessel for the lady, but at least now I have a title.
"So tell me, how is Frauline Brumhilde these days, Hier Froggardly," the Monsiuer asked.
The two went on and on about old times. The Monsiuer is not that much older than I, he probably still remains in his thirties somewhere, but he holds an oldness to his soul which Froggardly connected with. The old pooka had been scion for some forty years and during the past twenty or so he had been in direct services to Monsiuer De le Roi during his stays in Paris to discuss the news of the House and its expanses and its relations to the other noble houses.
I watched how Old Froggardly worked, though his ways are different from mine, the way he tongue-and-cheeks the truth to compensate for his handicap of being a chronic liar. The old grump couldn't help it, after all he even told me that lies are the lifesblood of his people, the pooka.
I felt that I was becoming more and more offical by the moment as i watched my final lessons unfurl before me. Though for the most part the two spoke like old friends for the majority of the meeting.
"Well, Hier Froggardly, I do hope that you return to Paris from time to time, you are always welcome here in my holdings," Monsiuer De le Roi said as he escorted us to the front doors.
"I will make it a point to stay home, my friend, but thank you for the offer," Old Froggardly said as he placed his old top hat on to his head, "take care, Monsiuer De le Roi."
"And you too. And as for Hier Klause, I look foreward to our first day together," the noble said.
"Thank you, my lord, you have been a most generous host," I said as we were dismissed.
On the way back to the hotel room I had asked Old Froggardly if I did well, his response was something on the lines of, "You could've done better."
"Thank you, Hier Froggardly," I told him. He then gave me a smile in return.
Working with a pooka makes you a wiser fae, know this and you will succede. They speak in lies and half truths, it pains them so to come up front and speak the truth. It's just one of those quirks I suppose, just like a nocker can't stop himself from cursing and taking the lords name in vain or perform any other outlandish social stigma that is not smiled upon in public, or that a sluagh can't scream louder than a whisper, and so on and so on. But knowing when a pooka is telling you something important or when one is trying to compliment you can come of insulting at first until you realize that they are only trying to make you look for their true meaning masked behind mind spinning lies and riddles.
That night Old Froggardly went to sleep and I was left alone to sign some papers as the new scion. Lucky for him that as soon as the Monsiuer liked me and i got the job that he managed to unload all of his unfinished work on me. I should've known that he was lying when he told me that I'd be doing nothing at all other than travel with him to Paris and meet Monsiuer De le Roi. And now I'm stuck here on the remainder of our stay in Paris with volumes of unfinished paper work dating back to earlier this year. Didn't this grump do any of his work while under Lady Brumhilde's service?
I sat there at my desk, tapping my pencil against its side and I found myself drifting my attention towards the streets below. The sleepless Parisians of the Underworld, the Bohemians, the lovers of life, now these are the dreamers I hear so much about. We as children of the Dream must seek those mortals who live so near the edge of reality, who create and love and we must embrace them and share their world with us and continue the Dream. It's people like this that make me argue with Old Froggardly that the Winter will not come for a very long time but he dismisses them as mere hedonists who worship empty pleasures.
I sighed and stared out my window. That's were I should be. That's were I'll learn to be a better scion to a more modern Fionna. After all, out of all of the noble houses, it is Fionna that is so in love with passion, during these days why do we not run out and embrace it. Instead the house has become nothing more than stale, stagnate, and in love with empty emotions of false passion. If anything I believe that House Fionna should be the leaders to the new world of this modern age.
It was then that i decided to take it to the streets. I went and put on my coat and shoes and snuck out of the hotel room. I tiptoed down the rickety stairs and slipped into the night once I made it to the bottome landing at the floor. I stole away into the night with a sense of acceleration, something was happening and I wanted to embrace it all.
My French is terrible, but I believe the whore beside me, as I rounded the corner from my hotel room, asked if I was looking for a good time. I declined but asked her if she knew a girl named Margot who was at my hotel last night. She then directed me to a very seedy looking den of burlesque called the Theatre des Ombres. It was a sinner's paradise with gargoyles and very Gothic architecture along with red electric lights and a red carpet leading into the maw of this beast. A large man stood at the door an opened the door for me and as I stepped inside I heard such a comotion, there was life all around this place. Music blared from an orchestra pit with a modern fanfare, gentlemen dance and were seduced by very leggy burlesque dancers and everything was alit with the spark of life and thus the Dreaming.
"Such a marvel," I recalled saying.
"Care for a drink," a very beautiful harlot asked me as she snaked up beside me, her satin gloves clenching around my tired shoulders, the massage felt so heavenly.
"Please," I said as I made my way to a booth and watched her head for the bar to fetch me something.
With everything up in a wild orgy of celebration I sat in my booth with my drink and soaked in the excitement. This was living, it is a shame that Old Froggardly could not make it out, not that he would go for it in the first place, being the grumpy old fuss that he is
I was so relaxed that I didn't recognized the brute from last nite when he walked passed me. It wasn't until he turned back over his steps and walked down an aisle to get closer to the floor show that I saw his face, his scar, that horribly jagged scar. I was not prepared to see him here, but if he was here, he too must be looking for Margot as well. I just hope to god that I find her before he does.
I went to get up when a flock of dancer swept me up towards the floor show and made me dance with them. I was unsure where I was or where I was going, all I saw was beautiful face by beautiful face, and legs, ruffles, garters, bossoms, and then the look of recognistion on a man with a scar's face as he saw me just an arm's breadth out of reach which he capitalized on by grabbing my collar and drawing me near him.
"Hey, German, weren't you taller last night," he had asked me.
"Funny you should say that, that was because I, well, you see," I had no excuse ready for me at that time and this grisled brute looked like he was going to beat some answers out of me. I could rely on using some magics of mine but I did not want these mortals to realize that I was not like them. He huffed his filthy breath into my face and it was putrid.
"Henri, no, put him down," came a man's voice over a megaphone. When I turned to look at this new speaker I realized that he was a sluagh, dressed in a long black coat, earmuffs, and a pair of black glasses, very ingenious of him to copensate for his handicaps.
"But DuMonte, he knows where she is," the brute, Henri, huffed out.
"He does not, he is my guest here at the Theatre des Ombres, unlike that whore Margot. Neither her nor her pimp are allowed to walk through my doors. Competition is bad for business," the sluagh, DuMonte said through the megaphone again.
The clod thought this over and released his grip on my coat. I had to flatten the material out from its wrinkles that Henri left on it but I did escape another thrashing. And as soon as I straighten myself up I found myself being pulled away by the sluagh. He was leading me backstage and down a spiraling flight of stairs into a darkly lit basement where he shoved me in and sealed the door behind us.
"Who are you," he asked me.
"I am Dietre Klause, scion for House Fionna," I said.
"Bloody hell I have a noble in my midst," he began, "and you are here for Margot as well, I suppose."
"I had no idea that she was unwelcomed, knowing that now I think I will try elsewhere, thank you," I had said as I tried to find my way through the darkness. The basement was as pitch as night. I could hear the sluagh but I could not see him, that was until he lit a lamp.
"How do you know Margot," he asked me, his tightly drawn lips drew back to expose his sharp teeth. His features were nearly skelatal with the candle light splashing across his visage. Had I not dealt with sluaghs before I might have jumped out of my skin by this one's deathly pallor.
"Well, I helped her last night, you see, she ran into a bit of trouble and I managed to keep her from being caught by that brute from upstairs," I explained, "I just thought that she might be here because a girl had told me so, I had no idea that she was unwelcomed here. So if you would lead me back up to the doors I promise that I shall not return, okay?"
"You see, I could do that," the sluagh siad, "or I can have you find here. And once you have done that I suggest that you convince her to return to my bordello."
"And if I don't?"
"Than I shall turn a blind eye on Henri's actions concerning you, monsiuer," he finished.
I saw his point and felt that it might be in my better interest to find Margot and try to reunite her with DuMonte and his Theatre des Ombres. After I found his point I was left to go about my business; returning to my hotel room before Old Froggardly awoke this morning.
"Mind yourself, boy," he had told me, "and watch yourself, Paris is a den of thieves."
If it is I would like to find out why it is and why it continues to be. Who are these commoners who dance in the streets at night here? In my homeland we have nothing so debaucherous as the Underworld here. I felt as if Germany had never progressed much; sure we have moving pictures and the such, but other than that, what have we to show for it. I truly felt out of touch during these days here in Paris, after all I am a noble, tucked away in Lady Brumhilde's house going through my duties of becoming scion to her court. There was something seductive, something so intriguing that these Bohemians possessed that I so wanted to become a part of. I want to adapt my fellow nobles with the modern age.
But I digress, it was this morning that we made our way out into the countryside by means of horse drawn carriage. Monsieur De la Roi's land was vast. He owned a great deal and owned his own grove where, as I was told, he enjoys most of his time hunting game in. The stables he has on his land is indeed enough to make anyone envious, he keeps only the finest of the equistrian breed. But that was merely his land, his house, rather, his mansion was palatial in the most extravagagant French style. Large doors and equally tall windows, giant crystal chandaliers, imaculate staircases, this place was amazing.
Old Froggardly had instructed the custodian to go fetch Monsieur De le Roi and we were then shown to a magnificent grande hallway where we awaited our audience with the nobleman.
I spent my time waiting for the Monsieur by admiring some of his collection on the wall. The frescoes and oils had come from all around the world. I made out some familiar names like Raphael, Da Vinci, and Van Gogh. These peices alone would go for a king's ransom and from my understanding this was merely a fraction of his collection. In his private rooms he has paintings from more valuable artists from the fae blooded. Artwork to the likes of which no mortal has never seen and are solely enjoyed by the few faerie nobles that exist, even then, only a few among them have seen such masterpeices.
"Ah, Hier Froggardly and Hier Klause, how good of you to come to my home, may I offer you some wine," Monsieur De le Roi said as he entered the room with his escorts. I promptly turned around nad followed suit with Old Froggardly and gave a bow to the noble.
"Ah, Monsieur, some wine would be too much trouble, we must decline," Froggardly siad, this sounded off color for him, being the present scion, refusing drink from a noble.
"I see through you, old pooka, I'll have my finest vintage brought out at once, come, sit," the lord said as he led us to some fine leather chairs. His attendants served some wine and handed each of us a glass.
"Hier Klause, I have heard many things about you," the Monsiuer said.
"All good things, I hope, my lord," I returned.
"Oh my, yes Klause, yes. From what I understand you are going to become the new scion to the Berlin court of Fionna," he said to me.
"Yes, that's correct."
"This role has a great deal of responsibility, will this interfere in your social life. After all, a man of your age has a wife, no," the Monsieur asked. He plucked a chocolate from a dish and put it into his mouh in such a dainty manner.
"Actually, sir, I am not married, my studies have taken up most of my time, I've not found the time to spend on girls these days," I then followed that by taking a sip from my glass, the wine was good, superior in fact to any I had had before.
"You like it," the Monsiuer asked as if reading my thoughts on the wine, "the grapes come from my vinyard and my vessels make the wine on my land. By far I beleive that this is the best wine I have had ever."
"It is excellent, my lord," I admitted and sat the glass aside, I found it spooky when he spoke about his wine. So I took it then to bring myself up to speed with the French court, to show that I have learned something under Old Froggardly's tutorage.
"Monsieur De le Roi, I understand it that this is hallow land and that you actualy have a bale fire on your property. How exciting that you own a freehold. As I understand your forefathers had defended it against the Famorian clan during the Gaul era," I brought up.
"Very good, Hier Klause, you have done your homework, bravo," the monsiuer said.
"I am truly fascinated by the historic events surrounding your court and its affairs in House Fionna and the crusade against the Winter. Like the time when Lord Le Roi charged his vessels against Chief Wolfegarr's soldiers in the battle against the Thallain," I began.
"Stop, you embarrass me, I'm blushing. Hier Froggardly, your assistant here is too kind with his words, I beleive I will enjoy his company as scion to the House."
After hearing that I truly felt accepted. I was no longer just a vessel to Lady Brumhilde, I was now scion to Fionna, which in return is just another vessel for the lady, but at least now I have a title.
"So tell me, how is Frauline Brumhilde these days, Hier Froggardly," the Monsiuer asked.
The two went on and on about old times. The Monsiuer is not that much older than I, he probably still remains in his thirties somewhere, but he holds an oldness to his soul which Froggardly connected with. The old pooka had been scion for some forty years and during the past twenty or so he had been in direct services to Monsiuer De le Roi during his stays in Paris to discuss the news of the House and its expanses and its relations to the other noble houses.
I watched how Old Froggardly worked, though his ways are different from mine, the way he tongue-and-cheeks the truth to compensate for his handicap of being a chronic liar. The old grump couldn't help it, after all he even told me that lies are the lifesblood of his people, the pooka.
I felt that I was becoming more and more offical by the moment as i watched my final lessons unfurl before me. Though for the most part the two spoke like old friends for the majority of the meeting.
"Well, Hier Froggardly, I do hope that you return to Paris from time to time, you are always welcome here in my holdings," Monsiuer De le Roi said as he escorted us to the front doors.
"I will make it a point to stay home, my friend, but thank you for the offer," Old Froggardly said as he placed his old top hat on to his head, "take care, Monsiuer De le Roi."
"And you too. And as for Hier Klause, I look foreward to our first day together," the noble said.
"Thank you, my lord, you have been a most generous host," I said as we were dismissed.
On the way back to the hotel room I had asked Old Froggardly if I did well, his response was something on the lines of, "You could've done better."
"Thank you, Hier Froggardly," I told him. He then gave me a smile in return.
Working with a pooka makes you a wiser fae, know this and you will succede. They speak in lies and half truths, it pains them so to come up front and speak the truth. It's just one of those quirks I suppose, just like a nocker can't stop himself from cursing and taking the lords name in vain or perform any other outlandish social stigma that is not smiled upon in public, or that a sluagh can't scream louder than a whisper, and so on and so on. But knowing when a pooka is telling you something important or when one is trying to compliment you can come of insulting at first until you realize that they are only trying to make you look for their true meaning masked behind mind spinning lies and riddles.
That night Old Froggardly went to sleep and I was left alone to sign some papers as the new scion. Lucky for him that as soon as the Monsiuer liked me and i got the job that he managed to unload all of his unfinished work on me. I should've known that he was lying when he told me that I'd be doing nothing at all other than travel with him to Paris and meet Monsiuer De le Roi. And now I'm stuck here on the remainder of our stay in Paris with volumes of unfinished paper work dating back to earlier this year. Didn't this grump do any of his work while under Lady Brumhilde's service?
I sat there at my desk, tapping my pencil against its side and I found myself drifting my attention towards the streets below. The sleepless Parisians of the Underworld, the Bohemians, the lovers of life, now these are the dreamers I hear so much about. We as children of the Dream must seek those mortals who live so near the edge of reality, who create and love and we must embrace them and share their world with us and continue the Dream. It's people like this that make me argue with Old Froggardly that the Winter will not come for a very long time but he dismisses them as mere hedonists who worship empty pleasures.
I sighed and stared out my window. That's were I should be. That's were I'll learn to be a better scion to a more modern Fionna. After all, out of all of the noble houses, it is Fionna that is so in love with passion, during these days why do we not run out and embrace it. Instead the house has become nothing more than stale, stagnate, and in love with empty emotions of false passion. If anything I believe that House Fionna should be the leaders to the new world of this modern age.
It was then that i decided to take it to the streets. I went and put on my coat and shoes and snuck out of the hotel room. I tiptoed down the rickety stairs and slipped into the night once I made it to the bottome landing at the floor. I stole away into the night with a sense of acceleration, something was happening and I wanted to embrace it all.
My French is terrible, but I believe the whore beside me, as I rounded the corner from my hotel room, asked if I was looking for a good time. I declined but asked her if she knew a girl named Margot who was at my hotel last night. She then directed me to a very seedy looking den of burlesque called the Theatre des Ombres. It was a sinner's paradise with gargoyles and very Gothic architecture along with red electric lights and a red carpet leading into the maw of this beast. A large man stood at the door an opened the door for me and as I stepped inside I heard such a comotion, there was life all around this place. Music blared from an orchestra pit with a modern fanfare, gentlemen dance and were seduced by very leggy burlesque dancers and everything was alit with the spark of life and thus the Dreaming.
"Such a marvel," I recalled saying.
"Care for a drink," a very beautiful harlot asked me as she snaked up beside me, her satin gloves clenching around my tired shoulders, the massage felt so heavenly.
"Please," I said as I made my way to a booth and watched her head for the bar to fetch me something.
With everything up in a wild orgy of celebration I sat in my booth with my drink and soaked in the excitement. This was living, it is a shame that Old Froggardly could not make it out, not that he would go for it in the first place, being the grumpy old fuss that he is
I was so relaxed that I didn't recognized the brute from last nite when he walked passed me. It wasn't until he turned back over his steps and walked down an aisle to get closer to the floor show that I saw his face, his scar, that horribly jagged scar. I was not prepared to see him here, but if he was here, he too must be looking for Margot as well. I just hope to god that I find her before he does.
I went to get up when a flock of dancer swept me up towards the floor show and made me dance with them. I was unsure where I was or where I was going, all I saw was beautiful face by beautiful face, and legs, ruffles, garters, bossoms, and then the look of recognistion on a man with a scar's face as he saw me just an arm's breadth out of reach which he capitalized on by grabbing my collar and drawing me near him.
"Hey, German, weren't you taller last night," he had asked me.
"Funny you should say that, that was because I, well, you see," I had no excuse ready for me at that time and this grisled brute looked like he was going to beat some answers out of me. I could rely on using some magics of mine but I did not want these mortals to realize that I was not like them. He huffed his filthy breath into my face and it was putrid.
"Henri, no, put him down," came a man's voice over a megaphone. When I turned to look at this new speaker I realized that he was a sluagh, dressed in a long black coat, earmuffs, and a pair of black glasses, very ingenious of him to copensate for his handicaps.
"But DuMonte, he knows where she is," the brute, Henri, huffed out.
"He does not, he is my guest here at the Theatre des Ombres, unlike that whore Margot. Neither her nor her pimp are allowed to walk through my doors. Competition is bad for business," the sluagh, DuMonte said through the megaphone again.
The clod thought this over and released his grip on my coat. I had to flatten the material out from its wrinkles that Henri left on it but I did escape another thrashing. And as soon as I straighten myself up I found myself being pulled away by the sluagh. He was leading me backstage and down a spiraling flight of stairs into a darkly lit basement where he shoved me in and sealed the door behind us.
"Who are you," he asked me.
"I am Dietre Klause, scion for House Fionna," I said.
"Bloody hell I have a noble in my midst," he began, "and you are here for Margot as well, I suppose."
"I had no idea that she was unwelcomed, knowing that now I think I will try elsewhere, thank you," I had said as I tried to find my way through the darkness. The basement was as pitch as night. I could hear the sluagh but I could not see him, that was until he lit a lamp.
"How do you know Margot," he asked me, his tightly drawn lips drew back to expose his sharp teeth. His features were nearly skelatal with the candle light splashing across his visage. Had I not dealt with sluaghs before I might have jumped out of my skin by this one's deathly pallor.
"Well, I helped her last night, you see, she ran into a bit of trouble and I managed to keep her from being caught by that brute from upstairs," I explained, "I just thought that she might be here because a girl had told me so, I had no idea that she was unwelcomed here. So if you would lead me back up to the doors I promise that I shall not return, okay?"
"You see, I could do that," the sluagh siad, "or I can have you find here. And once you have done that I suggest that you convince her to return to my bordello."
"And if I don't?"
"Than I shall turn a blind eye on Henri's actions concerning you, monsiuer," he finished.
I saw his point and felt that it might be in my better interest to find Margot and try to reunite her with DuMonte and his Theatre des Ombres. After I found his point I was left to go about my business; returning to my hotel room before Old Froggardly awoke this morning.