Post by Zola Rhomdaen on Dec 24, 2023 12:11:20 GMT
(Following the events of The Senate Leader.)
After being teleported back to Daring Heights, Zola excuses herself to change out of her suit of adamantine plate armour for something more comfortable. Ten minutes later, she emerges from the Three Headed Dragon wearing an elegant purple slip dress and a white mink shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She glides towards Heret with a friendly smile on her face.
“I’m sorry our chat was delayed for so long, Mr. Velnnarul. Certainly glad that horrible business with the Somethings has died down, at least for now. Did you go to Vorsthold with the others?” She tilts her head to one side in curiosity.
“I did,” he nods as they begin strolling Eclipse Street. “As you know, I have business interests in the Underdark and, although Vorsthold is some distance away, it seemed wise to make sure the trouble did not spread. And opportunities to earn favourable opinion among the Vorstborn are rare. It will be long before they are ready to do business with outsiders but when the time comes, I would not want to miss it. I think I did not see you there?”
“No.” Zola lets out a small sigh. “I really wanted to go and help — I have no enmity towards the Vorstborn — but on the off chance that there was a spy from Aeschira there, I couldn't risk being seen defending the enemies of my people. My advisors said it could be used against me in the future, force me to attack Vorsthold in order to prove my loyalty, and that’s just a lose-lose situation. But it’s very brave of you to have gone there after… after what’d happened in Lokburr’s house.”
“Ah, well.” Heret’s face is grave for a few moments but then tightens into a smile. “What are danger and difficulty but challenges to overcome? One cannot live all one’s life frightened like a child, no?”
She smiles at him, and lets a quiet fall between them for a beat as they walk.
“So, you’ve been doing business with Aeschira for a bit now. How do you find it?” Zola asks.
“Another challenge, but a rewarding one! I am still learning to… navigate cultural differences. Many things are delicately balanced, and can change very quickly. But you know this, of course. And there is much to learn of the city’s history and… relationships. I am still not sure that I even know all the main houses!”
“Mm. And you haven’t had the chance to meet House Rhomdaen, have you?”
Heret rolls the name around his mouth like a boiled sweet. “Rhomdaen… Rrrhom-da-ennn… no, I think not. Is it one of the great houses?”
“It is, though a relatively new one. My mother is the matron.”
“Oh, indeed! Your ladyship is more eminent than she lets on. You must forgive my ignorance.” The young man smiles, as if inviting Zola not to take seriously any insult he may have unintentionally given.
“Oh, no need for that!” She gives a good-natured chuckle, then she sighs softly though the smile remains on her lips. “You’re the one who must forgive me, Mr. Velnnarul, because I haven’t been telling you the whole truth. Yes, I was born in Aeschira the eldest daughter of a matron, but I have been living in exile ever since.”
“In exile! I am sorry to hear it. A… political matter? If I may ask.”
“Sort of. I was a newborn so it wasn’t a political matter on my part — though babies in politics is a funny thought. My parents traded me away to a devil for power and influence.” Zola turns to look at Heret, righteous determination glinting in her one good eye. “But I have every intention of returning and making my mother face justice.”
The face she sees seems sincerely aghast. “But that is abominable! What your parents did, I mean. Are such acts tolerated among your people?”
“I don’t know. They said Aeschira isn’t as bad as Menzoberranzan, but… well, my father said that if I hadn’t been given to the devil, I would’ve been given to Lolth. Whether as a sacrifice or something else… I don’t know.”
“And your father… justice has already found him?”
Zola shifts her gaze back to the road ahead. “I wanted to take him alive, for questioning, but the devil he made a deal with claimed him.”
“Ah. And — if I may ask — how did you yourself get free from that devil?”
“My adoptive mothers.” She takes a deep breath, pursing her lips. “The devil, Zarzuul, did not want to raise me himself. So he made a separate deal with three hags from the Feywild, and gave me to them. And… I don’t know the details, but they found some loophole in the contract and kept me for themselves. It probably sounds bad to you, but they took good care of me, loved me.”
“Remarkable. Well, your mothers certainly raised you a more personable and sympathetic person than any other Aeschiran I have met, if I may say so. And they… you are on your own now?” Heret asks, sensing her sadness.
Zola nods, looking down at the cobblestones. “The devil claimed them too. One of the contract’s stipulations was for me never to learn about my birth family. I… found out entirely by chance.”
“I am sorry to hear that. It is a hard thing, to be… to be alone in the world. Have you allies in Aeschira?”
“Yes, but not many. I’ve made contact with House Menat and requested a meeting — still waiting to hear back from them.”
Heret says nothing for a few moments, allowing a tall and lithe half-orc to pass by and disappear out of ear-shot again before replying. “I have met one of them, not the matron or the heir but the… third daughter, I think she said? An interesting character, open to dealing with outsiders, at least when it suits the House. I think Menat would be good allies to have, at least in matters of… force. If that is the route to justice that you choose, of course — I know not. In any event it cannot hurt to have friends who control much of the city’s defences… just in case.”
Zola perks up. “Oh, you’ve met someone from House Menat? Yes, I have heard that they’d hired Dawnlanders in the past. And that they are not adherents of Lolth. That’s one thing I’m glad for, that not all the houses of Aeschira are beholden to the Spider Queen, otherwise any ambitions of mine would be dead in the water…”
She pauses suddenly, with the uncertain look of someone who may have said a little too much. But if she has, her walking companion either has not noticed or is too tactful to let on.
“Yes,” he replies lightly, “there seems to be more diversity of worship there than in other drow lands I’ve heard about. Though anyone who cultivates the favour of Zuggtmoy is probably best advised not to mention it at the moment — I’m sure you’ve heard about that business. And certain houses seem to have their own dislikes as well as preferences.”
“True.” Zola nods. “And the house you’ve been doing business with… House Ithyr?”
Heret doesn’t answer straight away — maybe thinking, maybe checking for listening ears, maybe just enjoying the sights and sounds of Lunar Crescent for a moment. “You will understand that I must be careful not to put in jeopardy the confidence that exists between trading partners. And, though I have sympathy for your situation, I must not give you too much help in achieving your aims until I am more certain that they do not conflict with my own or those of my associates. But I think there is no harm in telling you what I know, because it is little. I do not generally enquire about which gods my business contacts cultivate: all I need to know is that Liberty’s Maiden smiles on all trade that is free and fair. Those I know in the House of Ithyr are averse to Shar and seem to be at least neutral toward the Raven Queen. That is all I know, and it is probably less than any tradesman in Aeschira would. What about your own house? I know even less of it than of Ithyr or Menat.”
“They, like House Ithyr, are of the Church of Lolth.”
Zola stops mid-stride. She takes a moment to glance around herself, and when she’s satisfied that no one else is close enough to eavesdrop, she turns to face Heret. “Mr. Velnnarul, I’ll be honest. I don’t know what the relationship is between Rhomdaen and Ithyr, but I think your associates are not likely to… warm to me. I do not ask that you assist me now in my quest for justice, rather after that’s done. I dream of an Aeschira that is free, open, and a friend to her neighbours — where each of her citizens has an opportunity to live the life they want, travel freely to the surface or the planes beyond if they so wish, things like that. More trade with the Dawnlands is as good a place to start as any, and well, it just so happens that one of Rhomdaen’s specialisms is in the general goods trade. Furniture and textiles from the surface world, nothing like most Aeschirans have seen before — that’s certain to spark some interest!
“Now, I can’t promise anything at this stage, and I think neither can you. And I understand there are risks for you. It’s just an… an idea.” She takes a breath and holds it as she studies Heret’s expression. “What do you think?”
As he takes in her speech, his face gives away little, just a nod now and then to show he’s listening; but once Zola has finished he gives an encouraging smile. “It is… let us say, a very interesting idea. There would certainly be advantages in what you describe. Especially if it can be achieved without too much… upheaval.” The last word seems like it may be a question — or at least an invitation to say more.
“Certainly. I have no quarrel with any other house, or even the other members of my family. Only my mother and father should face the consequence for their evil deed. I hope to… usher in a transition as bloodlessly as possible.”
Heret nods approvingly and smiles again. “Then I shall be interested to see what unfolds. Perhaps we can meet again as things progress.”
Zola smiles back at him. “Thank you for listening, Mr. Velnnarul, I pray that the next time we speak of this, it will be in a grander setting.”
He nods as if to convey that he has understood what she’s left unsaid. “And, until then — I wish your ladyship good business.”
Co-written with Heret Velnnarul
After being teleported back to Daring Heights, Zola excuses herself to change out of her suit of adamantine plate armour for something more comfortable. Ten minutes later, she emerges from the Three Headed Dragon wearing an elegant purple slip dress and a white mink shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She glides towards Heret with a friendly smile on her face.
“I’m sorry our chat was delayed for so long, Mr. Velnnarul. Certainly glad that horrible business with the Somethings has died down, at least for now. Did you go to Vorsthold with the others?” She tilts her head to one side in curiosity.
“I did,” he nods as they begin strolling Eclipse Street. “As you know, I have business interests in the Underdark and, although Vorsthold is some distance away, it seemed wise to make sure the trouble did not spread. And opportunities to earn favourable opinion among the Vorstborn are rare. It will be long before they are ready to do business with outsiders but when the time comes, I would not want to miss it. I think I did not see you there?”
“No.” Zola lets out a small sigh. “I really wanted to go and help — I have no enmity towards the Vorstborn — but on the off chance that there was a spy from Aeschira there, I couldn't risk being seen defending the enemies of my people. My advisors said it could be used against me in the future, force me to attack Vorsthold in order to prove my loyalty, and that’s just a lose-lose situation. But it’s very brave of you to have gone there after… after what’d happened in Lokburr’s house.”
“Ah, well.” Heret’s face is grave for a few moments but then tightens into a smile. “What are danger and difficulty but challenges to overcome? One cannot live all one’s life frightened like a child, no?”
She smiles at him, and lets a quiet fall between them for a beat as they walk.
“So, you’ve been doing business with Aeschira for a bit now. How do you find it?” Zola asks.
“Another challenge, but a rewarding one! I am still learning to… navigate cultural differences. Many things are delicately balanced, and can change very quickly. But you know this, of course. And there is much to learn of the city’s history and… relationships. I am still not sure that I even know all the main houses!”
“Mm. And you haven’t had the chance to meet House Rhomdaen, have you?”
Heret rolls the name around his mouth like a boiled sweet. “Rhomdaen… Rrrhom-da-ennn… no, I think not. Is it one of the great houses?”
“It is, though a relatively new one. My mother is the matron.”
“Oh, indeed! Your ladyship is more eminent than she lets on. You must forgive my ignorance.” The young man smiles, as if inviting Zola not to take seriously any insult he may have unintentionally given.
“Oh, no need for that!” She gives a good-natured chuckle, then she sighs softly though the smile remains on her lips. “You’re the one who must forgive me, Mr. Velnnarul, because I haven’t been telling you the whole truth. Yes, I was born in Aeschira the eldest daughter of a matron, but I have been living in exile ever since.”
“In exile! I am sorry to hear it. A… political matter? If I may ask.”
“Sort of. I was a newborn so it wasn’t a political matter on my part — though babies in politics is a funny thought. My parents traded me away to a devil for power and influence.” Zola turns to look at Heret, righteous determination glinting in her one good eye. “But I have every intention of returning and making my mother face justice.”
The face she sees seems sincerely aghast. “But that is abominable! What your parents did, I mean. Are such acts tolerated among your people?”
“I don’t know. They said Aeschira isn’t as bad as Menzoberranzan, but… well, my father said that if I hadn’t been given to the devil, I would’ve been given to Lolth. Whether as a sacrifice or something else… I don’t know.”
“And your father… justice has already found him?”
Zola shifts her gaze back to the road ahead. “I wanted to take him alive, for questioning, but the devil he made a deal with claimed him.”
“Ah. And — if I may ask — how did you yourself get free from that devil?”
“My adoptive mothers.” She takes a deep breath, pursing her lips. “The devil, Zarzuul, did not want to raise me himself. So he made a separate deal with three hags from the Feywild, and gave me to them. And… I don’t know the details, but they found some loophole in the contract and kept me for themselves. It probably sounds bad to you, but they took good care of me, loved me.”
“Remarkable. Well, your mothers certainly raised you a more personable and sympathetic person than any other Aeschiran I have met, if I may say so. And they… you are on your own now?” Heret asks, sensing her sadness.
Zola nods, looking down at the cobblestones. “The devil claimed them too. One of the contract’s stipulations was for me never to learn about my birth family. I… found out entirely by chance.”
“I am sorry to hear that. It is a hard thing, to be… to be alone in the world. Have you allies in Aeschira?”
“Yes, but not many. I’ve made contact with House Menat and requested a meeting — still waiting to hear back from them.”
Heret says nothing for a few moments, allowing a tall and lithe half-orc to pass by and disappear out of ear-shot again before replying. “I have met one of them, not the matron or the heir but the… third daughter, I think she said? An interesting character, open to dealing with outsiders, at least when it suits the House. I think Menat would be good allies to have, at least in matters of… force. If that is the route to justice that you choose, of course — I know not. In any event it cannot hurt to have friends who control much of the city’s defences… just in case.”
Zola perks up. “Oh, you’ve met someone from House Menat? Yes, I have heard that they’d hired Dawnlanders in the past. And that they are not adherents of Lolth. That’s one thing I’m glad for, that not all the houses of Aeschira are beholden to the Spider Queen, otherwise any ambitions of mine would be dead in the water…”
She pauses suddenly, with the uncertain look of someone who may have said a little too much. But if she has, her walking companion either has not noticed or is too tactful to let on.
“Yes,” he replies lightly, “there seems to be more diversity of worship there than in other drow lands I’ve heard about. Though anyone who cultivates the favour of Zuggtmoy is probably best advised not to mention it at the moment — I’m sure you’ve heard about that business. And certain houses seem to have their own dislikes as well as preferences.”
“True.” Zola nods. “And the house you’ve been doing business with… House Ithyr?”
Heret doesn’t answer straight away — maybe thinking, maybe checking for listening ears, maybe just enjoying the sights and sounds of Lunar Crescent for a moment. “You will understand that I must be careful not to put in jeopardy the confidence that exists between trading partners. And, though I have sympathy for your situation, I must not give you too much help in achieving your aims until I am more certain that they do not conflict with my own or those of my associates. But I think there is no harm in telling you what I know, because it is little. I do not generally enquire about which gods my business contacts cultivate: all I need to know is that Liberty’s Maiden smiles on all trade that is free and fair. Those I know in the House of Ithyr are averse to Shar and seem to be at least neutral toward the Raven Queen. That is all I know, and it is probably less than any tradesman in Aeschira would. What about your own house? I know even less of it than of Ithyr or Menat.”
“They, like House Ithyr, are of the Church of Lolth.”
Zola stops mid-stride. She takes a moment to glance around herself, and when she’s satisfied that no one else is close enough to eavesdrop, she turns to face Heret. “Mr. Velnnarul, I’ll be honest. I don’t know what the relationship is between Rhomdaen and Ithyr, but I think your associates are not likely to… warm to me. I do not ask that you assist me now in my quest for justice, rather after that’s done. I dream of an Aeschira that is free, open, and a friend to her neighbours — where each of her citizens has an opportunity to live the life they want, travel freely to the surface or the planes beyond if they so wish, things like that. More trade with the Dawnlands is as good a place to start as any, and well, it just so happens that one of Rhomdaen’s specialisms is in the general goods trade. Furniture and textiles from the surface world, nothing like most Aeschirans have seen before — that’s certain to spark some interest!
“Now, I can’t promise anything at this stage, and I think neither can you. And I understand there are risks for you. It’s just an… an idea.” She takes a breath and holds it as she studies Heret’s expression. “What do you think?”
As he takes in her speech, his face gives away little, just a nod now and then to show he’s listening; but once Zola has finished he gives an encouraging smile. “It is… let us say, a very interesting idea. There would certainly be advantages in what you describe. Especially if it can be achieved without too much… upheaval.” The last word seems like it may be a question — or at least an invitation to say more.
“Certainly. I have no quarrel with any other house, or even the other members of my family. Only my mother and father should face the consequence for their evil deed. I hope to… usher in a transition as bloodlessly as possible.”
Heret nods approvingly and smiles again. “Then I shall be interested to see what unfolds. Perhaps we can meet again as things progress.”
Zola smiles back at him. “Thank you for listening, Mr. Velnnarul, I pray that the next time we speak of this, it will be in a grander setting.”
He nods as if to convey that he has understood what she’s left unsaid. “And, until then — I wish your ladyship good business.”
Co-written with Heret Velnnarul