A Royal Interlude

No security was perfect.

Even Sorcier had only a limited number of knights to patrol the castle. Part of the reason for the alterations and locked doors was to use the castle's mythic architecture to funnel people such that a single knight—with a greatbow—could guard several pathways on different levels, and watch out for intruders. However, that was usually a very uncomfortable posting, wearing armor that was getting either too hot or too cold, while carrying a bow heavier than some greatswords and arrows big enough to be used as short spears. It was to be expected that some oversights occurred, which was why there were also patrolling guards, guards standing at hallway intersections, guards stationed next to doors so that people coming in didn't see them as they came through.

Normally, this would be a, if not impossible, certainly a nightmarish gauntlet worthy of challenging the heroes of old, perhaps the Chosen Lord themselves as any intruder would need to navigate walkways and stairs with no rails and painful, or even fatal, drops. Certainly it was what the castle had been designed for: to be an abyss-like fortress that would cost a besieger dozens, perhaps hundreds of lives for every foot of ground taken, ground that the defenders could far more easily take back because of superior positioning.

Most would think this meant that no one would be able to sneak around without being seen.

Most people are idiots.

Well, no, they're worse than idiots. Because Katarina Claes would have immediately looked at the situation and asked a very simple and pragmatic question.

"But then how do the servants get around to do their jobs?"

While nobles might have time to waste walking around long, winding paths to reach impressive views as they did whatever noble things they did for the International Assembly, servants had jobs to do and not much time to do it in. The floors needed to be swept, the windows cleaned, the little stains nobles don't notice they're making needed to be removed from curtains and carpets and seats and sofas. Lamps needed to be refilled, candles needed to be changed, deliveries of firewood and clean towels needed to be made, laundry needed to be done and delivered back to their correct owners before sunrise. Birds of various kinds needed to be discourage from roosting on the paths and parapets, puddles of piss—and perhaps other fluids—in what people thought were discreet corners needed to be cleaned, rooms had to be aired, recusant giant rats trying to sneak it threw the sewers and canals needed to be dealt with…

The servants couldn't deal with all that swamp and navigate the abyssish maze that was the castle's mythic architecture, and so there were routes in place that meant they didn't have to. Narrow, hidden corridors behind broad, sweeping ones, hidden stairs and even elevator platforms, all hidden behind the public face of the of hard stone, elaborate frescoes, slightly repetitive statuary, tapestries and curtains. The last two were literal, as the large falls of cloth were convenient for concealing the entrances to and from these servant corridors, lest the elaborate security architecture be rendered completely ineffective. In ancient times, such entrances were supposedly hidden with illusory walls, but this was the modern day, so they had tapestries and curtains.

Most nobles didn't really see servants. The servants also did most of their cleaning at night, so as not to inconvenience their so-called betters. As such, even during the day servants were able to use these hidden corridors without really compromising the security of the castle, especially since there were also guards stationed where they could see the hidden entrances.

But still, no security was perfect. There were times guards were less attentive than others, like at the end of their shifts. There were times watchfulness was impaired, such as when a large group of nobles were passing through. What was one more?

It was after the display of nightflowers, the night was, if not young, at least not yet middle-aged, and the planned festivities of the night were over… so of course the unplanned festivities were happening. In one dark garden, its fountain silent for the day, three circles had been made from multicolored prism stones. In the dark, the assembled knights and warriors were relatively anonymous, save for those whose weapons and outlines were too distinctive to be mistaken for anyone else. Each circle was watched over by one who held a torch in one hand. though the air was filled with excitement, everything was relatively quiet. There were no cheers, no conversation save for some looks along the lines of 'you going next?' 'no, you can go', and if the impact of weapons and armor wasn't exactly quiet, the three knights of the Royal guard who could see the garden weren't drawing their bows.

In (supposedly) empty sitting rooms, mid—er, early night meetings were taking place. Conspirators conspired, partners partnered, allies allied, fuckers fucked, plotters plotted, side-dealers side-dealed, and the truly depraved turned on the lights and had honest an truthful conversations to engender trust and wrok towards the mutual benefit of their nations, the twisted deviants.

Young nobles snuck out of the castle to visit the city's dens of ill repute, and were either successful or not. Older nobles of ill repute tried to take the usual advantages they were used to with the castle's servants and found themselves either rebuffed or mildly successful, depending on their approach. Whether or not the servants actually were servants was debatable, as was whether the conquering heroes conquered a bit too successfully and slept too soundly, leading to their effects being rifled through.

Prince Cezar Dahl knew none of this, as he was engaging in the time-honored tradition of disguising himself to pretend to not be a noble. His distinctive golden eyes were hidden behind blue-colored lenses, and his fine royal clothes had been ditched in favor of well-made but less fine clothes that would let him pass as a servant, a page or a secretary, though the kind of secretary that was usually bent over a table or kneeling under one. A simple iron curved sword hung from his side, just in case, but nothing like his own personal titanite-reinforced blades. A lowly servant wouldn't own such things, after all.

Janne, his servant and childhood friend, had sighed and scolded him by turns as he got out of the royal finery he'd needed to wear for the, admittedly not as boring as he had thought, dinner he'd attended, but ultimately hadn't really stopped him as he made his way out. With his different clothes and his hair worn differently, he was just another foreigner to the guards, so the only ones he needed to watch out for were his own countrymen. This was his first visit to Sorcier, and he wanted to see the place with his own eyes. Except for that colorful display of fire magic—which was both pretty and a show of deadly force reminding them of the power the country had on command—and perhaps that cold, sweet dessert, he hadn't really seen much in the way of magic.

He probably wouldn't see any such tonight, but that was fine. While he had been to Sorcier before back when he'd been a mercenary, it had mostly been as he'd been passing through, and he'd never been to the capital before. At the very least, he was curious to see the city itself, without the planned fakery that they showed him here in the castle. And so here he was, making his way down to the front gates. Tonight was his last chance to really relax, since tomorrow the negotiations would begin.

Cezar hid his nervousness as he made his way down to the gate where they had been told they should pass through when going in and out of the castle. Technically, Prince Cezar Dahl was an important foreign dignitary and thus a guest who can come and go as he pleased, but if he left, there'd be an interest in his movement and it would be a whole thing. However, a perfectly ordinary, former mercenary turned royal servant could come and go as he pleased, especially with the excuse that Prince Cezar had given him the night off.

He was handed a strange key, told not to lose it because if he did he wouldn't be allowed back in until a senior member of his delegate came down to personally confirm that he was, in fact, a part of the delegation, and then he was standing outside the small sally gate, looking down one of the city's night-time streets. Despite the hour, people still walked the streets at various levels of sobriety and nobility. Lamps filled with prism stones glowed to illuminate the streets and signs for wine houses, gentlemen's clubs, lady's clubs, gacha houses, restaurants…

The prince incognito was trying to decide where he would be going first when a voice behind him greeted, "Oh! Fancy meeting you here."

Startled, he turned. Then blinked and looked down.

A pretty, heart-shaped face looked up at him with a bright, innocent smile. Dark gloam eyes danced with mischief as a hand casually flipped long golden hair, both lose and braided, over one shoulder. "Are you going out to see the town too, uncle? Then you can come with Trina and cousin Siegadme!" Behind her, an unremarkable-looking woman wearing a simple white shirt, brown trousers, and a simple-looking smith's hammer was giving him an amused look.

Cezar's mind finally managed to backstab his denial and accept the sight before him. The king of Hallig was wearing a simple white dress that, combined with his stature and build, allowed him to easily pass as a young girl. Gone was the smooth, dignified expression and refined bearing, as well as the fine gold filigree crown. While no one would make the mistake of thinking that he and who was probably the Queen of New Catarina were related, they could just possibly be a some noble's daughter and her bodyguard.

For a moment, Cezar hesitated. A part of him that recalled the savage treachery and internecine maneuvering among his half-siblings vying for Ethenell's throne warned him this could be a trap, a means of isolating him so he could be eliminated. For a moment, he eyed the Catarini's hammer.

But this was supposed to be a civilized place, and these people nominal allies, if ones Ethenell occasionally sent sharply-worded notes to.

"Only if we don't talk about work," Cezar said.

There were twin snorts of contempt. "Who do you think we are?" 'Siegadme' said. Still, she extended her hand.

Cezar took it while nodding towards the far-too-cute-and-feminine 'Trina'. "So," he said as he dropped the hand. "Did you have a plan or were you just going to wander around?"

'Trina' skipped and took hold of 'Siegadme's offhand, eye wide and innocent. "Siegadme was telling me where we can get hold of some Siegbrau." The two began walking down the road. Well, 'Siegadme' walked. 'Trina' skipped

Cezar blinked, even as he fell into step with them. "In Sorcier?"

"There's a little Catarini restaurant that's owned by one of my knight's father's brother's niece's sister-in-law's cousin's former roommate," 'Siegadme' said. "They make some in the basement, and you need to visit the place with the right people to be able to get some. I'm told they also make a wonderful Estus Soup."

"Is that… safe? Doesn't Siegbrau… explode?"

"That's just vile slander from people who don't have the taste to appreciate a good, historically significant drink," 'Siegadme' said primly. "Besides, that only happens if you don't remember to stir it to mix everything back together again, and what sort of fool forgets to do that?"

Cezar briefly considered walking away. On the other hand… "Well, I've always wanted to try Siegbrau," he said. Siegbrau was illegal in Ethenell, and smuggling it was a death sentence, one that was usually served by making the smugglers sit on the Siegbrau during a hot day… and EVERY day in Ethenell was hot.

"You don't have any gold teeth, do you?" 'Siegadme' asked.

"No…?"

"You should be fine then."