#houseofreglay

[cotharach-archive]

TOA Ball 2021 - 🙇

"A dance?" It sounded a bit silly when he put it that way, didn't it?

What else could she possibly mean by that when they were both at a ball? Pent laughed softly to himself. Absurd. "It would be my pleasure entirely, Flayn... Seteth isn't watching, is he?"

The man couldn't have eyes everywhere.

           Perhaps it was a little peculiar, seeing her ask for a dance with her instructor of all people, but she finds there is a yearning to jive and not many people she can jive with. Professor Pent was someone whose company she enjoyed, and someone who would ( likely ) never get introduced to the business end of her brother’s lance— this is perhaps the closest she’ll get to having an enjoyable waltz without fear of brotherly intervention.

          “Oh, professor! I am sure my brother would never dare chase you off.”

           Flayn finds herself laughing at the quip, a hand on her chest— it seems Seteth’s overprotectiveness was known to all.

          “It is only the students of my age that he is particularly aggressive towards.” she assures him with a smile, “Dancing with you would surely bring him no offense. Why, one might compare it to me waltzing with an uncle— either way, one dance with a dear professor is not malicious!”

          She takes both of his hands and starts spinning the both of them— it’s no easy feat, given Flayn’s size relative to him, but she giggles and grins all the same. 

          “Well, since you are in agreement, let us be off, then! Though, if it will bring you any comfort, I shall steer us clear of my brother’s gaze; I have gotten quite good at avoiding his watchful eye. Hehe!”

[nonfayth]

@houseofreglay sent:  "I must admit, I am surprised that Murdock isn't hovering over your shoulder." And just then, Pent scanned the room in the split second. A habit from court, he supposed. "Or perhaps he is watching afar. Dutiful, that one." Stranger than seeing the boy alone, though, was seeing him outside of the Bernese borders at all. How curious. He didn't think Hellene would permit him so long of a leash. Something must have happened. "But I digress. Well met, Your Highness. It has been a while."

    Count Pent of House Reglay — a distant in-law on his mother’s side and a powerful link to have at that given his own prestigious standing in Etruria as current Mage General. Zephiel would be foolish to relax around such a figure, even if in a way they are family.

“ He is a reliable retainer, you shall find. I am ever so grateful to have him in my service, ”  the prince answers, not wishing to confirm or deny the general’s presence in the area. If the count believed there was a chance that Zephiel’s loyal vassal was here, then it certainly put the prince at the advantage. So long as the possibility existed that Murdock was here, Zephiel would be safe from any potential threats. Even if the chance had been slim to begin with, it would be prudent of him to reduce that risk as much as possible.

“ In fact, I thank you for going through the effort to recall his name and face, Lord Pent. Your military exploits must be greatly aided by such conscious decisions to remember notable foreign officers, I take it. ”  The mage general may prove to be a shrewd mind. It does Etruria good to pick its generals well, though should the day ever come that Etruria and Bern become enemies...

...Well, that would certainly prove problematic.

“ We have much to catch up on. I confess to be curious to know what Etruria’s finest mage is doing so far away from home. ”

Etruria must feel comfortable right about now to weaken its defenses like this. Either that, or they feel as if their greatest threat lied in Fódlan and not in Elibe. But could it be that Pent is acting not on orders but his own whims and fancy? It would be a lie to say that Zephiel hasn’t heard reports of the man’s actions being quite unorthodox for that of an Etrurian noble before; by St. Elimine, his very choice of wife had proven that point, if the tales of a ball and a bow and arrow are to be believed.

Yes, there truly was much to catch up on.

[princessmacedon]

toa ball 2021 - (a sweet bun trio)

"It is good to see you are enjoying yourself; it seems like there is so much happening at the Academy... All the time."

Young as she was, Pent feared the princess of Macedon would be swallowed whole in the crowd. But the refreshments table was a safe enough reprieve, and Pent helped himself to one of the sets of confectionaries.

It was... far too sweet.

Pent looked down at the little dish. And that was just the first one.

"How are you still eating these?"

She quickly hides her mouth behind the shield of her fingertips, blinking at the professor for a moment; in the next, a smile, though he could not very well see it until the next beat, her hand instead settling lightly over her necklace. Swallowing the mouthful of bread and fruit she’d been happily munching on, the little princess sets the rest of the bun back down on her plate.

“Hee hee.” Well, he is right— between battles and balls and wintry resorts, it would feel almost strange to have nothing going on; even she feels the want to take a nap now and then. “But isn’t it fun, too? There’s so many things I wouldn’t have ever gotten to do back home! And with so many new friends, too!”

Another laugh at the sight of his face as he samples a treat of his own. It’s a familiar expression on a person less so— one she recognizes easily enough from childhood, although the meaning might be different when worn by the professor. Though, judging by his comment, she has a hunch she might be right.

“I like sweets!” It’s a simple answer, and she grins as she says it, as abashed as she is mirthful. “I’m guessing you don’t, Professor?” Or maybe not this much, at least— even she has to admit the sugar is much more powerful than not. “Do you want to trade a stamp for a sweet bun?” (A meaningless question; if he wanted one, she would happily provide, sweet bun bartering or no.)

[extenebris]

"Salem!" The Count plucked the head of red curls from the crowd. Their last encounter had been... Strained. But this time, they would be in the company of known eyes and not the singular, unwavering gaze of an uncanny root vegetable.

"You must be settling well to indulge in these events. The scale can be overwhelming, even more the more seasoned nobility here." Himself included. Pent thought back to the balls of Aquleia; if it hadn't been for Louise, he would have left half of them before they were half done. Perhaps the Ethereal Ball would be where he caved. "Are you participating in the game as well?"

“Oh, Professor Pent,” Salem greeted in turn. Polite, but curious, though that curiosity only came out in the way his eyes traced down to the count’s hands as he joined him at the edge of the ballroom.

“I am here as a student, so I have tried to experience the lifestyle that comes with it.” He turned his gaze out toward the crowd. “But I fear that I may trespass on some unspoken rule.”

There had been drinking and revelry among the Dandelion. The gatherings were never as grand as this, even if the world had not been embroiled in war, but Salem had held that fear then, too. Everywhere he went, he wondered how much it would take to fit in with the rest. Or even if he ever would.

“Fortunately, it is amusing enough to simply watch,” he added instead. As if on cue, a cheer erupted somewhere on the floor as a group began to gather around for a circle dance. Someone tripped on the train of another’s dress, and chatter transformed to good-natured laughter. The clumsy victim happily played the clown for his audience.

“… This must not be anything new for you,” Salem said after a pause, glancing toward the professor. “But you must not be tired of it either.”

[lionerrant]

[The script is careful at first, but trails off in a barely legible scrawl as the author loses that hopeful self-restraint. The coffee, as evidence by the stain in one corner, probably also hasn’t helped.] It is alright if things have felt difficult as of late. If I may be so bold, I would say that these trials are a largely inevitable part of life, but I have every faith that you will find a way to overcome them sooner or later and seldom would you have to face them alone. The hardships don’t always get any easier, but you will get stronger and more capable each time. I can promise you that.

The first hint had been the coffee stain on the corner. Sylvain had thought about lurking around the dining hall that morning to see who got coffee as part of their routine, but that felt like a waste of time.

Next he tried studying the world, but the only hint that gave him was that the letter writer was probably someone older. Just by the tone of it.

Difficult as of late, as if things hadn’t been a series of difficulties from day one, just repeating and changing in severity.

Sylvain let out a sigh, absently folding the paper and running his fingers along the crease. He had his guess, and he was probably wrong, but he’d rather take that chance and move on that spend any longer imprinting words that were wasted on him into his skull.

His whole path was already planned out. There was no point hoping and wishing to be stronger. He had to be. It was all getting dumped on him eventually.

Knocking on the professor’s door, Sylvain plastered on a smile as it opened, holding up the folded letter. “Morning, professor! Say, you wouldn’t happen to have dropped this off, would you? I’m flattered, but I feel like these words are better suited for someone who needs them.”

@houseofreglay

[aeschyluus]

liminal

@houseofreglay​

Fingers gripped the weathered remains of the notebook in his hands, the covers long worn off and pages wrinkled and blanched white where salt water had seeped into the fibres of the pages. Pent had unearthed it from the black box (the key and the bottle rattled around the bottom of it, mockingly) in his office after Cynthia’s abrupt visit.

(He should have known there was some excitement to be had when she burst in flailing through his window, flapping a flyer so close to his face that he couldn’t make out the words. Pent half expected to have to chase away some peddler of elicit goods until she mentioned ‘a pale stranger with white hair’ but then ‘also not super unique because your hair is white and I was thinking maybe he’s elderly and—’ His stomach dropped out from under him as he cut her off.)

But he stood there then. Months of… suspicion and frustrating dead-ends, all to lead up to standing there in the back of the marketplace, clutching the tattered pages and folded flyer tucked in between them so hard that the pallor of his knuckles matched what little of the stranger’s complexion he could see.

“Ae—” Static. The fog in his head verged on painful, threatening, and Pent grimaced, but took a step forward anyway towards him. 

“—I heard someone would be here.” The fog relented. He offered the notebook to the stranger, flipped open to the page marked by the flyer. On the opposite page, there were smudged scribbles in soft graphite, too blurred to read now… And also a very rough sketch of what appeared to be a dragon. “You posted this, I presume?”

The surface was just as terrifying now as it had been when it was an unreachable world beyond fortress gates. The shadowed corner at the far end of the marketplace, between abandoned buildings and old stalls untouched for moons, was still near enough to the heart of the place that the chatter from it was a quiet drone, and the sun still made its presence known through shade and layers of dark robes. The alleyway he had chosen lent him its shelter without its solace, and Aeschylus stood at the back of it like a rabbit poised to run. His eyes remained fixed on the sunlit opening as they had been for what felt like hours now. But the only predators were what imaginary ones his mind made from the wavering shadows.

The shadows lengthened, and the slants of shade at the entrance tilted nearly all the way to one side before footsteps sounded over the lull in distant conversation. Then a man stopped in full view.

Every muscle in his body felt ready to snap, but Aeschylus was rooted to the spot by fear and duty both.

“You have seen my call for assistance,” he answered the man with a calmness that surprised even himself. His eyes fell to the drawing beside the presented flyer. His lips parted slightly, but the speech he had prepared for whatever surface dweller answered his bulletin withered away in silence.

He shook his head abruptly.

“You have my gratitude. The task is not without its dangers, however--” He explained the metal creature that lurked near the cave where the stones would be mined, and the compensation that would be awarded as per the Church’s agreement. With his speech finished, his gaze landed once more on the drawing. Hesitantly, he placed a gloved hand over it.

“... May I have this?”

[ostianshadow]

breadcrumbs

[ @houseofreglay​ ]

[Labyrinth 2021 - Plateau]

“Matthew, why there you are.”

The sage found him after the group scattered from the docks, tackling their respective investigatory leads. Unusually, Pent appeared almost sheepish, glancing down at a neatly folded slip of paper in his hands. Wrinkled, as if he had been fidgeting at the corner for the entire trip into Caledonia.

(The contents scrawled in Pent’s shorthand were simple, outlining the time, place and circumstances of their arrival. If the spy could still decipher some of the notation used by Etruria’s elite–he shouldn’t, but Pent wasn’t going to pry if he didn’t probe too much either–he might have even been able to make out some of Pent’s own thoughts and notes leading up to the mooring of their boat.)

“I have.. A favour, of sorts, to ask of you.” He offered Matthew the folded page, fingers lingering on the creases. “Not confidential by any means–there is nothing you or any one of us don’t already know also–but seeing as you deal in information, I ask you keep this safe until we leave again.”

It was the kind of greeting Matthew would never get used to. No matter his line of work, people looking for him by name never failed to set the hairs at the nape of his neck tingling - especially when it was people he’d not been quite expecting to be looking for him in the first place.

He met the mage with his usual ghost of a smile - certainly amicable enough to fool any who didn’t know better, albeit guarded behind a wary interest. And yet, seeing the Etrurian in the flesh, the spy’s posture relaxed some. He trusted Pent… to an extent. Heart-to-hearts had the odd tendency of affording a certain confidence.

“Here I am,” he echoed, his tone the very picture of ‘casual.’ The other’s countenance wasn’t lost on him.  Brow quirked in question. His curiosity burned all the brighter.

Eyes cracked wide, betraying a mote of surprise - and, perhaps, a tinge of amusement. Without much fanfare, Matthew plucked the proffered paper between index and middle fingers, before tucking it carefully away.  

“Well… Suppose I might still owe ya a bit.” His smile rang genuine. “I’ll look after it, yeah. Thanks for entrusting me with it. Or, if that’s not sappy enough for ya,” a chuckle interrupted the thought, “I could wax poetic and offer that I’d lay down my life for it… But I suspect you’d know I were lying.”

Even still, some part of him was rather tickled to have been approached. He’d have to do that trust justice.

“Hmmm… I won’t ask what it’s for. But I have to say: were you always this much of a target for mosquitoes?”

[vonessars]

"Hanneman." It comes after a knock, enough of one to declare one's presence but not enough to ask permission. Pent let himself into the office, brighter and -dust-free- compared to the last he peeked in the through the door. "I won't keep you too long. I imagine there are other well-wishers and more urgent work demanding your attention, but do enjoy." He sets a narrow box of balsam wood on his desk, lined with a row of little jars of loose leaf tea. And as a joke, a compass tucked in at one end.

There is hardly time to stand and welcome the other inside by the time the box is set on a cleared spot on the desk, Hanneman is left glancing between it and the gift-giver. 

Certainly not one to waste time on ceremony, anyway; a respectable quality.

Slowly the assemblage of gifts processes. A lovely box, finely crafted that truly would be gift enough, he thinks! Tea, a polite kindness, and something to certainly look forward to later, even to share. Nestled among it all, a—!?

“Ah,” Hanneman’s laugh is startled, processing no doubt before he’s turning the compass over in hand. “Quite clever of you, Pent. I suppose this should find a proper, permanent home in my coat, lest I ever find myself turned around in these halls once more without your help to bail me out.”

As he very well might, really. The ache of being known for misdirection above all from a colleague pains him only a little.

“Thank you, truly; this is a gift as considerate as it is devastating in its wit. Well met!”