It had been irritating her since arriving at her Aunt’s estate. That damn clock that wasn’t just wrong, but broken and chimed at all random moments in the day. When she had been physically strong enough, it had become pieces across the desk with clear instructions for it not to be touched nor for anyone to tell her Aunt, though Adaria surmised the lack of static chiming was a dead giveaway.
It was at least quiet now, too quiet until her magic eventually returned, her pool of mana replenished enough that she had been recently cleared of the mana sickness. She still used her magic sparingly, but it was reassuring being able to sense the minds and feelings of those around her. If not for her aunt’s library she’d have grown too bored and boredom was a dangerous state for a Campana to be in, explosions, not just of fire and experimentation, but temper and emotion would overrule sense.
While her dreams hadn’t settled since the ‘incident,’ Adaria was making progress returning to her studies, though fixing the dismantled clock had consumed her attention this afternoon, forgetting entirely that her sister was expected. The door to her chambers opened and not batting an iota of attention, Adaria griped, I have had enough tea, Jessie. Can’t you see I am in the most delicate. Phase. Of, the spring uncoiled, falling down into the mechanism where the Princess had spent the past hour painfully teasing out.
She blinked once, placed her tools down and stood, the posture so rigid one couldn’t quite tell if she was honestly breathing. I’m going to give you three seconds to get out and then I am not going to apologise for what I say next. Then immediately it disappeared when her sharp blues found who it was instead, You are not Jessie.
One. Two. Avorra paused, then smiled daringly at the angered woman. Oh, Avorra was always a one for words. Yet, somehow, people always seemed so displeased by her mannerisms. My dearest apologies for interrupting, Lady Campana, but I was hoping to delight in an audience with you.
Avorra continued grinning. Who was she to dare bother a princess without a proper, formal greeting? A nobody slowly becoming a somebody, that's who. She creeped ever so slightly through the doorway, running her free hand down the frame, the other on the knob. You see, there was this wondrous sound chiming through the halls at precisely random times throughout the day, and such a beautiful cacophony has been silenced. Would you happen to know what- Oh. Avorra pretended to realize her mistake. In actuality, she was here for other reasons. She needed connections, and perhaps some help in the near future. But what fun would it be asking for such a thing outright? No, she'd rather play and dance around the issue until she was bored of her game.
While Adaria was surprised to find a stranger in her chambers, being Antivan, she’d come to almost expect it. Though, assassins didn’t usually indulge in small talk. Her guests' arrogance and sheer audacity caused her to chuckle, more curious than displeased. Apologies are for friends, family, or peasants. And I don’t believe you are any of those. She sharply retorted. And it is Her Royal Highness. Not Lady. If you’re going to attempt flattery, it’s wise you use the correct terminology, especially when it comes to Royal blood.
Depositing her tools, Adaria sighed, her attention waning until the woman pressed about the clock. This was not the reason for stepping into her chambers. Well, since you like it so much, you may be able to convince my aunt to part with it. After. What use did she have for the thing? Nothing, but pretending it held some value created the illusion that her guest had leverage.
Hands, fingers picked up and examined pieces of the mechanism. Why have you really come? And just be aware, I will know if you lie to me. She drew her index across her temple, tapping it lightly. She would know.
Avorra snickered at the pampered princess. So insistent on proper terminology, and yet that differed with every country in Thedas. She was tempted to stop bothering with the pleasantries, but alas, Avorra was indeed here for a reason. Why, Your Royal Highness, I am but a humble servant. Avorra said, wiggling her exposed pointed ears through her white mane. She even cast an illusory spell to appear as wearing a servant's garb. The joke was going to fall flat, of course, and that bored Avorra. No one here was willing to have a little fun. Straight to the point, eh? Fine. Avorra dispelled the fake garb, now wearing her hedge witch attire; an exposed bra to cover her delicates, an open half-robe that exposed her stomach, the open belt-cape that fell to her knees but exposed her covered thighs, and the raggedy pants that were clearly worn-out judging by the various holes in their surface. She wore no shoes or gloves, as she preferred to feel the air against her skin and the earth against her feet.
I offer you my services in exchange for help. We can get to the help later. You want the clock gone, no? Or is there something more to be desired? I have a vast array of skills, for all types of tasks, whether legitimate or not. I understand that you are of royal blood, and I am always in need of new friends - if you are tempted by the offer. Avorra smiled widely at Her Royal Highness. It was true, she needed help. Of course, help comes with a price, and Avorra was willing to pay any price for what she currently needed - adventurers willing to help her hunt for a shard.
Names carried weight. And when your family held ties to all the Royal houses of Thedas, well, people understood the significance of your line. Adaria’s grandmother had hammered home that lesson early on, you didn’t survive by rolling over and that went for both sexes in their family.
Humble? Adaria laughed, genuinely amused by the statement. Her head shook lightly. No, but I’ve always preferred directness over flattery. Family trait. Her father had hated the pandering, even after taking the throne and reigning for decades they still tried to treat him like an ill-informed boy. She had seen through the disguise easily, her mind magic filtering out the lie from reality. Young and inexperienced the Princess may have appeared, but that had always been her shield. Behind those sharp blues and carefully constructed facade, her mind calculated in the shadows, dreams and thoughts spilling secrets without the uttering of words.
Adaria’s gaze shifted back to the mechanism, dismissing the women's attire completely. Her eagerness though, drew a curious line across her brow, stare narrowing on the cog being turned in her hand. Lazily her head rolled to assess this… desperate waif. Friends? the presumption was hilarious and she offered a hollow laugh at the thought. We will not be friends, mostly because when my instincts warn me of insanity, it’s usually spot on. Another Family trait.
Her posture straightened, body tightening with controlled tension. But. Adaria’s eyes flashed in warning, the darker rim of blue around her eyes deepened as magic swirled in a current. You’ve gained enough of my curiosity to enquire what skills you could offer me. Even dogs have uses, are you more useful than a dog?
Insanity? Avorra slightly scoffed. My dear, we are all mad here. She said with a sinister smile. Though, the one thing running through her mind was the tediousness of this one-sided conversation. It was clear that Avorra wasn't making much headway with the pompous princess. She was just about to give up on her efforts when the princess finally mentioned her interest being piqued. Now Avorra was getting somewhere, until she was compared to a hound. That somewhat got under her skin, and it took a supreme amount of effort to keep a straight face.
Why, of course I have my uses. Do you need me to play fetch? Do you need me to hunt? Avorra stopped while she was ahead. As much as she enjoyed the witty sarcasm, the princess already said she preferred directness over subtlety. So much different from the Great Game of Orlais. Name a target, and I will make them disappear without a trace. After I have my fun with them. Of course, the blame for why they disappeared would have to follow someone. Perhaps a rival house that needs their reputation ruined? What would you say to pitting two houses against each other, and you come out on top? Avorra prattled on.
This is only a taste of the delicate political machinations that I do so enjoy. You are a princess and it is your right to rule when your time comes. Anyone that debates that claim is an enemy to the throne, and such acts of treason can only be answered with extreme prejudice. Consider me your iron fist, Your Royal Highness.
Without warning, Avorra shifted into a Mabari hound in response to the earlier insult. As she waited for an answer from the princess, the bitch began unceremoniously licking herself clean.
There it was. One didn’t need mind magic to understand there was a more unhinged element to her usual guest. She chuckled at the woman’s words. Quite, her words curt. Some of us more than others, or different runs of the same ladder, take your pick. Her family was enveloped in some sort of madness. It followed their line and she, Adaria, this generations coin to be flipped. Her final character still malleable to change. It was unfortunate that she had set a goal in mind, distractions were not usually tolerated.
A polite smile replaced the rigid indifference of before, listening carefully to not just her words, but their hidden meaning, intention. Pompous the young woman may have appeared, but she had studied under the Grandmother of the Antivan Game, her Father an equally troublesome player and a Crow Mother as models. She understood when a gift came to her too polished, too perfect that it reeked of desperation. Her own words came back to bite her, but not from Avorra’s transformation, no. That only amused Adaria.
Rabid dogs bite anyone, was she foolish enough to enter in some parlay with one?
To a point.
I already have people to do such things for me and while I… appreciate the support in sowing discord among the houses. I need the opposite to happen. No. Antiva had been splintered, stretched over lands and people who were caught up in a game of someone else's making. A unified accord was needed to re-establish order. Something which Enzo was failing miserably at. Eyeing the ‘hound,’ she chuckled, I’ll admit, it’s a nice trick, but it only reinforces my hesitancy. Information you might come across, on the other hand, I’d reward. It was always valuable to have another bird to sing the songs of other courts and notable factions.
