And the Band Played On...

In which the Dramatic Characters whirl and turn on the ballroom flor of the Parsifal, even as mysterious events are set in motion...

First Couple

The Leutnant checks his pocket watch and excuses himself. He works his way through the growing crowd awaiting the start of the ball and joins the Lady Osada and her party. He bows to the Dragon Lady. "Lady Osada, the Captain sends his regrets for not being able to attend tonight's ball. In his place, would you allow me the honor of escorting you on the Grand March?"

The Nipponese Dragon gracefully inclines her head, and hands her dance card to von Locke. "I would be delighted, lieutenant," she answers. "May I beg of you the honour of a signature on my dance card, so that I may have a memento of the ball?" Suddenly, she seems struck by a thought and becomes oblivious to her surroundings. "That's a good one!" she murmurs. "Dance cards..."

Then she remembers the First Officer and shakes herself. "Forgive me, lieutenant, I just thought of a solution to a little quandary that has been nagging me." She smiles enigmatically.

The Leutnant smiles. "I hope that means you will enjoy tonight's ball that much more, Lady Osada." He pencils his name in and hands the card back to the Dragon Lady.

Nearby, dancers assemble two by two for the March, and start forming lines under the polite guidance of the majordomo, even as the musicians finish tuning their instruments.

The Leutnant gives a silent nod to the majordomo and offers Lady Osada his arm to escort her to the front of the gathering formation.

Of Shoes and Ships and Sealing-Wax...

Blissfully unaware of Doña Olivia’s reticule brandishing impulse and reassured that neither she nor Lady Osada will be left alone for the Grand March, Jean-Michel feels free to inquire of Fraülein Rohling, “If you have not promised the Grand March to another, may I be so bold as to ask for that honour?”

"I would be honored, sir. And just in time, it seems!" Fiona replies to Jean-Michel, offering the dance card.

As Jean-Michel pencils his name in, the thought crosses his mind that he has not signed his name so many times in one hour since the last Customs inspection (which was in Paris). Without a doubt they were sticklers for rules and regulations, certainly much more so than Orléans Customs, or at least what passes for such….

While Jean-Michel and Miss Rohling move towards their spot for the Grand March he mentions, “This is my first dance on this continent and I confess it is quite a bit more elegant than any dance I have ever attended in Orléans. For example, even at my family’s most formal dance there would not be such a variety of flowers, nor such a quantity. The decorations would not be so elaborate nor the apparel as fashionable, for even the most fashion-conscious Orléanais are slightly behind the times as they must wait for their clothes to arrive from Paris, an event which might take upwards of a month.

“The most recent dance I attended was one which my family hosted on New Year’s Eve. Naturally Grandmother was in the lead couple for the Grand March but she remained seated throughout the rest of the affair.” For a moment Jean-Michel seems worried, then he brightens. “Father cut quite a dashing figure and Mother was beautiful almost beyond words in a French gown which she had ordered specifically for the occasion. Brother Yves was at least as dashing as Father and danced every dance with a different lady which was the only way peace could be kept as he is a very popular man. Sister Nicollette and her betrothed were both present although Sister Anne and her husband of course could not be.”

Jean-Michel again seems saddened and becomes distant for a long moment. He returns to the present and smiles apologetically. “Please forgive me for wandering a bit, it is simply that I have not seen them for several months and… I miss them.” Despite his even tone the words are underscored by a hint of wistfulness. His attempt to change the subject is not in the least bit subtle. “Pray tell me, are all dances in New Europa this elaborate?”

Fiona listens to Jean-Michel's reminisces with polite interest, yet wonders where his sister Anne and her husband might be... Briefly considering the consequences, she decides to confide just a little of her past to the captain. "Monsieur de la Vierge, I am not usually able to attend such lavish soirees. This is truly one of the most elegant trips I have ever taken, and I am quite astonished by it all. I hope I do not seem too... socially inept? Pray forgive me, but my fia... a dear friend of mine decided it was time, one day, to introduce me at court." Her fan starts to sweep just a little harder. "He arranged for an invitation to a royal ball, not unlike this one, and I was priveleged to meet of the great and powerful in Bayern. Unfortunately, I was so tongue-tied I must have seemed quite a bore." Then, with a sigh, "But it was the stuff of dreams, and the most beautiful place I have ever been. Tell me, have you visited our court?"

Jean-Michel emphatically shakes his head. “This” he says, tapping one boot on the ballroom floor for emphasis, “Is the closest I have come to Bayern. And you have been presented to the King of Bayern himself! C’est incroyable! I have heard a little of him; King Ludwig II, is he not? As I recall he is held to be a good ruler, a strong and capable leader who is well beloved by his people. And you have been so fortunate as to have met him, and at a royal ball, no less! Nom de nom, it must have been quite exciting; goodness knows I would likely forget my manners in the heat of the moment and call him Ludwig while omitting his titles or slap him on the back after telling a joke or commit some other breach of Court etiquette so heinous that I should be escorted to a dungeon somewhere and not released until the turn of the century.”

He laughs softly at the ludicrousness of these scenarios and continues, “But as I am not likely to meet him I think I shall be spared that dire fate. What is more likely, however, is that our path may cross that of one of the Bayernese nobles. Who are the ones nearest to the King? How probable is it that we might meet one of them in our travels?” He lowers his voice before adding, “Might they render some assistance to The Quest?”

"His Majesty was most gracious, but in truth, I merely curtsied, became tongue-tied, and received a sympathetic pat on the hand," replied Fiona. Then, in a lower voice, "I do not know if any nobles might be inclined to help you, for as I said, they are not really in my circle of confidants. Customers, yes - sponsors, not yet at any rate. However, my professor at the University may be quite interested in your ... quest." Then, a little louder, so as not to provoke too much interest at the whispering, "If you can make your way to Bayern after this trip I will obtain appropriate introductions for you at the University."

Jean-Michel is puzzled by Miss Rohling’s words. ‘Your quest’…? Has she changed her mind, then, and is retiring from the pursuit? No, she had been quite adamant about her decision in their earlier conversation, he was certain of that, and from his past experience he knows that redheads are generally very strong-willed when the occasion demands. But she could not possibly be referring to…

Then he remembers: The interview, of course! And the fact that she remains kindly disposed towards him bodes well indeed. Greatly relieved, he glances around to see how the line-up is progressing; hmm, the dance is on the verge of beginning so he must act swiftly. “Mademoiselle, before your dance card fills up may I be so bold as to officially request a waltz? Perhaps this one?” He leans over the dance card and points to “Mein Lebendauf ist Lieb und Lust“ making no attempt to pronounce the title. “Or would you prefer this one?” He does not attempt to pronounce “Ball Geschichten” either.

Using the pretext of filling in Mademoiselle Rohling’s card, Jean-Michel leans a little closer to her and murmurs, “I thank you for your acceptance although I suppose it should not surprise me, after all you, too, understand the importance of one’s family. God willing I shall still be alive when her business (nodding slightly in Lady Constance’s direction) is completed but if not, then at least there is her promise so I am content.”

Strange how so young a man could casually mention the possibility of his own demise without a trace of regret or fear or anxiety in his tone; his eyes also have a quiet, almost gentle look to them.

"I would be pleased to have another waltz with you, sir," handing over the dance card once again. "Either one is open so far, so feel free to choose." She listens to his private words with approval regarding Constance's quest, yet blanches a bit at the implied possible danger to himself. "Not again," she thinks to herself. "I will not lose another gallant if I can help it." Then aloud, "Jean-Michel, I will not hear of such dire things on such a wonderful evening -- come, we must get in line for the March!"

“It appears my words, intended to reassure you, have instead caused you distress and for that I do apologize”, Jean-Michel says contritely. “Having lived with this knowledge for some time I suppose I tend to forget that not everyone thinks as I do in this matter. Despite that, however, I too prefer to celebrate life so I hereby declare that since there are more words in this title,” signing his name by Mein Lebendauf ist Lieb und Lust, “this naturally means there must also be more notes in the tune so we shall dance longer.” Once more the twinkle returns to his eyes. “Of course, champagne is also an important part of a proper celebration and I see here a Gallop entitled ‘New Champagne’, clearly a good omen, so might I interest you in partaking of a ballroom of champagne?” He places the pencil on the line next to 'New Champagne' but does not write his name in just yet.

Fiona returns the gleam in his eyes with a laugh. "New Champagne? La, sir, whichever you prefer!"

“Bien, a waltz to be followed by New Champagne.” He inscribes his name on the appropriate line. “By the by, I would also be delighted to share a bottle of actual champagne, whether new or vintage, during the buffet or,” he lowers his voice to a near-purr, “During some… other… future occasion.” In a normal tone he continues, “Of course, you are under no obligation to accept, I simply mention it in the event you might be… interested."

"I adore young ... champagne, sir. Somehow the taste is more vibrant when youthful," Fiona says, rising to the bait. "Not unlike living life to the fullest, no?" She looks coyly at Jean-Michel to make sure he has correctly interpreted her interest.

“For my part," Jean-Michel replies, "I avoid partaking in champagne that has not matured for, oh, at least sixteen or seventeen years. I have seen harm come to those who indulge in a too-early vintage so I have avoided it assiduously. For my part, I prefer a vintage with some maturity to it; c’est vrai, champagne which is young is exuberant and lively, but if too young it lacks depth and sophistication. A more mature one, however, has developed a degree of complexity and refinement, has developed those subtle nuances that make it so delightful, so pleasurable.”

His emphasis of that last word… The way his hand, resting lightly on top of hers, slowly begins to nestle closer… The smoldering look in his eyes, the same as she had seen earlier when he spoke to Lady Constance, except now he is looking at her… There is no doubt as to what Jean-Michel’s interpretation can be.

Fiona tries to hide her blush, but looks into his eyes, completely taken in the moment. "Let us see what champagne is offered at the buffet, and if it suits our tastes. If not, perhaps we can find another vintage ...?"

“And we may consider the advantages and drawbacks of the different cellars as well” Jean-Michel adds. Nom de nom, this is the swiftest Assignation he has arranged, however given the circumstances the speed is understandable for tonight may very well be their last chance for the necessary privacy. At any rate he has expressed his interest and the lady seems agreeable; there is no need to push the matter any further and his manner therefore becomes less intense.

As the March has not yet begun, Jean-Michel decides a brief language lesson would be useful. “Although I am fluent in French and English and know a few of the more common phrases in Spanish, the Bayernese tongue is virtually unknown to me. For example, left to my own devices I should probably mispronounce Mein Lebendauf ist Lieb und Lust dreadfully.” And he does precisely that, intentionally (mis)speaking as if it were French, or at least as close as is humanly possible given the linguistic differences. “As you can see or, rather, hear, I am in dire need of someone to educate me in these matters. How would one say ‘Good day’, ‘Please’, ‘Thank you’, and other such phrases?”

Keeping a straight face while he mangles his German, Fiona says, "Most assuredly your German isn't half as bad as you think it is. Now, repeat after me ... Goo-ten-dag," pausing between syllables to let Jean-Michel repeat after her. "There, that's better. Now, as to the pros and cons of particular cellars, I'm afraid we must wait until we get to Bayern to show you some truly remarkable establishments. I fear they do not take much to wine in the city below. That is, if your intentions are serious?" Fiona smiles sweetly and wistfully at her partner.

Well that is unfortunate, it seems she has interpreted his reference to ‘cellars’ literally rather than figuratively. He cannot help but be at least a little disappointed for he had hoped that tonight they might have… Well, all is not lost for she is still interested and he may yet be able to arrange a Rendezvous. “Mademoiselle, unless you change your mind I have every intention of fulfilling my offer.

“In the meanwhile, I would very much like to hear something of your travels. What New Europan countries have you visited? What are they like?”

"Surely you jest, monsieur! It is you who is the world traveller, with your airship. I have been in quite a few cities, for I must to make sure the shop has a wide range of goods, but I never get to stay very long or enjoy the... how do you say... ambiance. It is a pity we Germans are too obsessed with work to truly take the time to enjoy the world." Fiona pauses in her prattling to catch her breath. "To be honest, sometimes I only get vague impressions of places... London is a horrid place. Aside from the industrial filth, until I speak they usually take me for one of their poor Irish subjects. Paris is lovely, particularly in Spring. Vienna is also a beautiful town, particulary if you like music. Prussia..." She pauses a bit too long, then continues, "a dreary place entirely, and of no consequence. Rome... well, it has an abundance of antiquities -- both real and imagined. I should like to spend more time there in the future. Now, I've prattled on enough about myself, tell me of your exotic ports of call -- and the ladies there that have stolen your heart!"

London, eh? That reminds Jean-Michel of a visit he would like to tend to should he ever find himself in the right part of England. Although he would be unable to fully explain the reason for his visit (at least for now) and very likely give the impression of a deranged Frenchman to boot, he would like to make his gratitude known. He might even, some day, be in a position to return the favour.

A look of longing crosses his face as she mentions Paris. If only his business were not so urgent! For he would have dearly loved to stay and learn more about a city so intertwined not only with his family’s history but that of all France… Well, God willing he shall have the opportunity later and for now that is all he may hope for.

Vienna is virtually unknown to him except for certain music. He briefly wonders at her assessment of Prussia as being ‘of no consequence’ but given the lengthy pause there is almost certainly more to this than meets the eye. Later on, perhaps, he should investigate this more closely. Rome is another city we would like very much to make a further acquaintance with, particularly the Vatican, although there are any number of ruins that also pique his interest.

He pointedly ignores her question regarding other ladies for only a cad and a bounder would bandy about the names or details of his liaisons so freely, especially to another woman! Being neither, he addresses instead her other request.

“I generally find myself in the same situation as yourself; between dealing with the freight on hand and drumming up business for the next trip I find I have little time to enjoy the sights. There are several cities, towns and villages that I have somewhat more knowledge of since I have sojourned there on several occasions. Hmm, let me see, the ones that spring most readily to mind are New Orléans and Shreveport although I freely confess there are a large number of others that escape me at the moment as most of my airship career has taken place in Orléans. In the United States are Mobile, Atlanta, Charleston and Savannah; in the Republic of Texas are Fort Worth, Amarillo, San Antonio, El Paso, Phoenix and Laredo (on both sides of the border). I’ve journeyed only once to the Bear Flag Republic and while I was there I visited Sister Anne. Only once have I visited Mexico proper, specifically Monterrey.

“Please remember, however, that just as these places seem exotic to you this is precisely how New Europa is to me. You call me a world traveler yet I have seen eight countries, only three of them with more than a passing view, in less than a single continent while you have traversed much more, so by all means give yourself credit for your accomplishments.” His words are sincere rather than condescending or patronizing.

Realizing that she has put him on the spot, Fiona immediately tries to cover for inappropriately teasing Jean-Michel about his potential loves. "Well, monsieur, if you will not tell me if anyone has yet stolen your heart, at least tell me of the fashions in the Bear Flag Republic and the United States!"

“Well, I am not so up-to-date on Bear Flag Republic fashions as you should like for it has been several months since my visit. As I recall, there was some interest in following New Europan fashions however the sheer amount of time it takes for goods to reach them does put rather a damper on anyone being up-to-the-minute. This is likely to change soon, however, as there was much talk of starting up an airship line with one of the routes servicing Oakland and New Orléans. In the meanwhile those who insist on following New Europa’s fashion lead must content themselves with outdated garments.

“There were local distinctions, however, in the form of influence from both Indian and Chinese sources. I saw a fair amount of jewelry (both costume and otherwise) as well as accessories that were based upon Indian or Chinese designs and techniques in addition to the occasional piece which had actually been crafted by Indians or imported from China. It was not unusual for a a lady to wear a pendant and earring set made of hammered silver and shaped like an arrowhead with a turquoise or mother of pearl inlay while a gentleman would sport Chinese ideograms on his watch fob.” Jean-Michel pauses, trying to remember something. “There were four ideograms which were quite popular even as decorations for one’s home. I believe they were Luck, Happiness, Long Life and Wealth. There were others but those were the most popular.

“As far as the garments themselves the influence remained more Europan or American than anything else. The ladies indulged in imported silk for their dresses when they could and the gentlemen did likewise with their vests; other than that there was little to distinguish most Republicans from what an American or Orléanais would wear. At least, that seemed to be the case with those of better financial means. Those who were not so financially endowed dressed in a more practical manner in very much the manner seen on this Continent.

“Naturally in all this I am referring to those of white descent, as well as most Negroes and their mixed blood brethren. The Chinese and Indians generally follow their own native modes of dress, some of which defies description.

“Regarding Americans, I regret to inform you there is really little to distinguish them from New Europans. Granted, my travels were limited to a few of the Southern United States so that may not hold true for the rest of the country.”

A Contested March?

The vizier bows to Fraü Ehrenburg, and smiles, a flash of white teeth contrasting with the deep tone of his skin.

"Ah, Fraü Ehrenburg. It is a pleasure to speak with you once more. I hope you will forgive me, but I am unfamiliar with much of the Europan custom. Should I even now be rushing about, attempting to fill a position on every fashionable ladies dance card? Or is arranging the first one sufficient?"

It is extremely unlikely that the vizier, as a diplomatic envoy, is as uninformed as he lets on. More likely it is just a conversation starter.

The Sorcerous Officer gives a small curtsey. "Your Eminence," she greets him. "The pleasure is all mine." She smiles. "I am afraid that there are far more fashionable ladies among our passengers than dances available, so Your Eminence will have to choose wisely. Nevertheless, I am certain that any available lady that may take Your Eminence's fancy will consider herself honoured." She gestures to encompass the ballroom, rapidly filling up with men and women in sumptuous clothing.

"It is the custom," she continues, "for gentlemen to approach ladies that pique their interest and ask for a dance. If the lady agrees, she will offer her dance card for the gentleman to write his name for that dance, so that everyone can more easily keep track of various engagements. It is considered inappropriate, however, to dance more than twice with the same partner unless of course one is proposing to her, and the gentleman should obtain permission from the lady's mother if she is underage."

Her smile widens, and she adds: "It is also considered inappropriate to propose to more than one lady, or to propose when one already has a spouse. This is a point where I'm afraid the difference between New Europa and the Ottoman Empire are quite significant."

The Vizier chuckles warmly. "Indeed. But without such differences, there would be no need for diplomats. And where would that leave Esray Sefik?" He gestures at himself.

Looking over the crowd, the richly-clad turk's brow wrinkles. "I fear I have made a mistake, Fraü Ehrenburg, in leaving my aide behind. He is a... stifling presence at social functions, but no doubt he would be quite aware of who all these lovely ladies are. Am I mistaken in assuming that it would be bad form to ask a lady to dance when we had not been introduced?"

"But I am not so constrained with you, madame, as we have already made each others aquaintance...so may I have the honor of escorting the lovely lady about the floor? I promise that in deference to your strange customs, I shall not ask you thrice." The Vizier smiles once more, almost a grin.

The Dragonlord, impeccable in both dress and demeanor (but is that a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth?) moves over to where Fraü Ehrenberg and the vizier are in conversation. He stops at the limit that politeness dictates when moving into a circle of conversation, nods to the vizier, smiles at Frau Ehrenberg, and waits to be officially noticed by one of the two.

Fraü Ehrenburg starts replying to vizier Sefik, but interrupts herself when Lord Swiftwing reappears. She smiles to the vizier, and nods towards the Dragon. "Your Eminence, Your Grace, what a pleasure to be reunited!" She curtseys to them both - perhaps to hide a smirk...

The Dragonlord doffs his hat with a flourish. "Fraü Ehrenberg, a pleasure to see you again. If I may say so, you look truly magnificent tonight. Your dress is superb - simply marvelous! Had I realized that Royal Luftschwansa of Bayern concealed such beauty in its airships, I would have taken to flying years ago." He bows low over the officer's hand (quite a feat given the height difference), then rises, smiling. "I almost hesitate to bring the matter up for fear of disappointment, having arrived late as I have, but might I inquire if there is still a place on your dance card left unfilled? Certainly the Grand March will be sadly insufficient for me to take full measure of your grace and charm."
He turns to the vizier and says "Iyi akþamlar beyefendi. Nasilsin?¹" The accent is bad, and the phrases clearly learned by rote, but the dragonlord manages to get them out without mangling the Turkish too badly.

The Vizier retrieves a fine, gold-trimmed monacle from his sash and settles it in place before nodding to the dragonlord and replying... "Ee ahkshahmlahr, Lord Swiftwing. Ee-yee-yihm, Allah akbahr.²"

The Dragonlord pauses for a moment, as if waiting for (hoping for?) a translation. Then, with a mental shrug, he continues in German: "I trust the magic show was tolerably enjoyable, o Shaykh?"

He casts a quick glance in the direction of the couples already lining up for the Grand March, then at Fraü Ehrenburg, then back at the vizier.

The Vizier raises an eyebrow. "I am sorry, Lord Swiftwing, perhaps my native dialect is not the same as the one you have learned. I merely indicated that I was well, by the grace of God."

"The show was... interesting. I am amazed at the lengths to which people will go to simulate magic, when the reality is far more satisfying."

"I fear I know little of Turkish other than a few phrases gleaned from a lexicon," the Dragonlord replies. "Languages are such ephemeral things - they change so much in the course of a few hundred years - that it is hard to keep track. I seldom bother to learn more than I must in order to get by in my native land anymore. I must confess that I was relying heavily on thaumaturgy to allow me to converse, should I choose to disembark Needless to say," he inclines his head in the direction of Frau Ehrenberg, "our radiant Sorcerous Security Officer does not permit such a stratagem while aboard, so I must confine myself to Bayernese and rather poor French for the moment."

"As for your observations on the art itself, you must realize that in Europa very few are skilled in the art of thaumaturgy, and that itself explains some of its allure to the common folk. When reality is not satisfactory, one must sometimes make do with the illusion of that which one desires. Is it not so in your land as well? I confess that your thaumaturgic arts are almost as much of a mystery to me as your language - though your explanation at dinner was fascinating."

"Oh, the empire is blessed with far more fakirs than you have stage magicians", replies the Vizier. "But most of these have some true talent in addition to their mummery."

"That, of course, is one of the major differences between our arts. Our arts require less magical talent, and far more skill at, well... haggling.", the vizier smiles.

"A legacy from the origins of Ottoman magic.", he adds. "I have not yet decided if it is a benefit or a curse."

While the vizier and the dragon lord exchange pleasantries, the dancers assemble and the orchestra is about to begin. Fraü Ehrenburg glances at the First Officer across the room, in conversation with Lady Osada who is offering her dance card. The Sorcerous Security Officer looks back meaningfully at the two gentlemen.

Lord Swiftwing, noting that the line is forming and that the Leutnant and Lady Osada are heading in that direction, turns back to the vizier. "If you will pardon me, o Shaykh, I am afraid duty calls. Though in this particular case," he says, turning to Fraü Ehrenburg with another slight bow, "I am truly fortunate indeed, in that duty and pleasure are combined - the pleasure by far the leading factor." Turning back to the vizier, "Perhaps we can continue this conversation during the buffet? Or tomorrow over breakfast? Until then, o Shaykh, I wish you a pleasant evening."

Turning back to Fraü Ehrenburg, he offers a very long arm. "Shall we?" he asks pleasantly.

"At your convenience.", replies the Vizier, bowing to the dragonlord. As the pair stroll off, the Turk frowns, and removes his monacle, and off-handedly begins to polish it.

Fraü Ehrenburg's eye is attracted to two new arrivals at the door as they are greeted by Lord Árdghal: a beautiful woman in a deep wine red gown, and a young girl of about sixteen. She lightly pulls on the tall Dragon Lord's arm to hold him back. "One more moment, if you please, Your Grace."

She turns towards the vizier. "Your Eminence, will you allow me to introduce you to Fraü Schumann and her daughter? I believe Fraü Schumann has no dance partner for the March as she just arrived, and I would consider it a personal favour if you were to escort her for the dance."

The Vizier follows Fraü Ehrenburg's gaze, and raises an eyebrow as he considers the new arrivals.

"I do hope your offer has more to do with my merit than a fortuitous choice in the color of my evening wear," he replies. "But in any event, I should be honored to escort the lady, should she prove willing."

Fraü Ehrenburg smiles. "The colour is indeed fortuitous, but I count more on Your Eminence's wit, conversation and gallantry to enliven the evening; after all, I will be hoping for a dance too." She smiles again, with more challenge than coquetterie despite her light tone.

The Sorcerous Security Officer rest her hand daintily on Lord Swiftwing's arm as they walk with vizier Sefik towards the new arrivals. She continues to speak: "Fraü Schumann's presence tonight may be a wonderful opportunity if we can prevail upon her to play for us, perhaps during the buffet. I also hear Fraülein Elisabeth Schumann is a promising young violinist, so perhaps we could even get a duet."

The Late Arrivals

"I notice that our dinner companion, Antioch, seems to be without a partner for the March," he whispers. "That is most unfortunate. I thought, when I saw him talking with the Dame Verte, that they would dance together, but clearly she must have promised the March to someone else for there she is, walking away with another gentleman."

His gaze keeps surveying the room, then suddenly stops as he spots a new arrival at the door. "Capital!" he exclaims, loud enough to be heard by those nearby. He turns to Olivia again and whispers a few more words with animation.

"I see an old friend of mine at the door," he explains. "She is a remarkable woman, and I see her young daughter is with her. The young lady is of a perfect height to dance with Antioch; let us see if I can convince the mother to let the daughter go. I hope that your presence will lend some respectability to the scheme and will reassure my friend, for I know how unenthusiastic mothers are to the offers of one of the Folk to their daughters!"

"Surely even the most careful mother would not object to a Dwarf as a dancing partner!" Olivia glances toward the doorway, wondering who the 'old friend' might be. Her gaze is stopped be an elegantly dressed lady, whose gown seems to change color with the light. She seems to be accompanied by a diminutive young lady who must be just 'out.'

Lord Árdghal and Olivia starts moving counter-current, towards the door to meet two new figures.

The new arrivals are a beautiful woman in her early fifties, and a slight young girl in her mid-teens. The woman is wearing an extremely sober, yet supremely elegant gown of deep wine red, almost black unless the light splashes on it to wake the rich tones. Her hair is still mostly dark brown, despite the gray filigree in it, and her complexion is pale. Her features are delicate and sensitive, and her eyes hold a certain sadness.

There can be little doubt that the young girl with her is her daughter, for her features are very similar. She is dressed in a modest yet fetching gown of white muslin with satin trim, and her hair is done "up". Those with a practiced eye notice how careful she is when she moves her head, as if she fears the hair will tumble down.

Lord Árdghal, upon reaching the two, bows deeply. Straightening up, he makes introductions: "Clara, what a pleasure and a surprise to see you here. Lisa, what a beautiful young woman you now are. May I introduce señora Olivia Libertad Díaz Rodríguez, recently arrived from Barcelona. Señora, let me introduce Fraü Clara Wieck Schumann, one of the foremost pianists in Europa, and a composer in her own right; and her lovely daughter, Elisabeth Schumann." The ladies exchange polite greetings and shake hands daintily.

"I protest, Fraü Schumann," says Olivia, "your name needs no explanation. Even in so distant a country as -- Spain you are known and admired." Olivia does not wish to slight the young girl, and so adds, "Miss Schumann, the world awaits you."

This accomplished, Lord Árdghal kisses the two ladies' hands in turn. "Clara, Lisa, I cannot say how happy I am to see you. It's been... three? four years? Too long, once again." Elisabeth seems delighted to see the Sidhe Lord, although she remains demure and well-behaved, but her eyes shine with laughter. Clara smiles indulgently, but gives a look of wry warning to the Faerie Lord.

Olivia observes with interest the reunion of the friends. It raises Lord Árdghal in her opinion. She had not thought him capable of friendship with women -- whatever else the past might hold.

"Indeed, it has," she nods. "But we are familiar with your disappearances and expect no less than complete mystery from you. You will simply have to make it up by being a briliant entertainer once again, while we have the pleasure of your company."

Lord Árdghal hides his own smile behind a polite cough. "Yes, well. Clara, I fear you may regret those words immediately, for I was going to attempt to entertain you and Lisa." His eyes twinkle. "I was hoping you would allow me to introduce Lisa to a young gentleman I have recently become acquainted with, for he is without a partner for the Great March."

He turns to indicate Antioch, who has been left staring in wonder at the beautiful Constance as she walks away with Mateo. Clara and Elisabeth Schumann crane their necks to get a better view, yet manage to retain lady-like composures.

"Herr Antioch is from the Stockholm Dwarfhold, and has shown himself to be a pleasant conversationinst and a gentleman," pursues the Sidhe Lord. I believe señora Díaz will confirm this much. I confess that the acquaintance is very fresh, but I hope you will see no harm in the one dance, if Lisa is agreeable."

The girl looks at her mother searchingly, and nods slightly. "If you think it's alright, mama," she says softly, "I would like to by in the March."

"He was our companion at dinner," comments Olivia. "He comported himself with respect and courtesy. I do not present myself as a paragon of respectability." Carefully she avoids looking at Lord Árdghal. "However, I would dance with him myself, were he to ask me."

Clara seems to hesitate for a moment, exchanges looks with her daughter, with Olivia and with Lord Árdghal, then nods. "Very well," she says. "There can be little harm in a March at any rate. Why don't you introduce us to the gentleman."

The Sidhe Lord gives a smile of thanks, then turns towards Antioch and waves for him to approach. The four start attempting to make their way to meet Antioch, but the crowd has thickened, making their movement difficult.

Antioch spies the newcomers and the understated elegance that marks their entrance into the ballroom. Following his brief conversation with Constance he has merely lingered along the edges of the ballroom, watching the crowd and thinking about the evening to come. When he notices the Sidhe Lord and ladies approaching he begins to clear a path. When the correct their course and continue to head toward him, he realized they are actually coming over to see him. Antioch straightens his jacket and prepares for introductions.

The knot in the crowd clears, allowing Lord Árdghal, Olivia, Fraü Schumann and her daughter to reach Antioch. Once again, Lord Árdghal makes introductions. Elisabeth Schumann blushes prettily, but gives an impeccable curtsey.

Meanwhile, a few steps away, others are approaching as well. Upon reaching the growing group, Fraü Ehrenburg performs her role as "hostess" and makes introductions. The March is nearly beginning, so she hurries a bit through the process, but with such skill that the introductions remain perfectly correct.

"Lord Swiftwing, may I introduce Fraü Clara Wieck Schumann, perhaps the greatest pianist in Europa, and her lovely daughter Fraülein Elisabeth Schumann, a budding artist herself.

"Eminence, allow me to introduce Fraü Clara and Fraülein Elisabeth Schumann, Lord Árdghal Cianán Toirdhealbhach, Señora Olivia Libertad Díaz Rodríguez, and Herr Antioch.

"Fraü and Fraülein Schumann, let me introduce His Grace Lord Domintius Swiftwing, lord of Tegelberg Aerie, and His Eminence the vizier Esrar Giray Sefìk, special ambassador for the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire.

The Dragonlord bows deeply, but refrains from pretending to kiss anyone's hand (which would be rather tactless with a companion already on his arm). "It is a great pleasure to make your aqauintance." Since it is clear that Fraü Ehrenburg is obviously attempting to form some additional pairs for the grand march, he refrains from further conversation unless spoken to, in deference to her attempts.

"Lord Árdghal, Señora Díaz, Herr Antioch, I would like to introduce vizier Sefik. I believe everyone else has met?"

A legacy of a thousand years of battles and poetry have taught Olivia that the followers of Mohammed are the Enemy. She is almost overpowered by antipathy toward the vizier. She fights for self-control, reminding herself that the Parsifal is neutral territory and she owes Fraü Ehrenburg the duty of guest to hostess. Therefore Olivia smiles politely, and murmurs "It is an honor to meet you, sir."

Everyone exchanges hurried pleasantries , bows and curtsies. Lord Árdghal smiles innocently. "Why, the March is about to start and we have two lovely ladies without partners," he says. "This will not do." He gives a significant look to Antioch.

When Lord Árdghal hints to Antioch that invitations to dance are in order, Olivia hopes that the vizier will think her too unimportant to be honored by his notice. And, more pleasureably, hopes that Antioch will ask her to dance. Eugenio Rosa, the very young dwarf who is her protegé, dances very well and therefore she has a good opinon of the terpsichorean abilities of all Dwarves.

Antioch passes out his metalic card to the newly introduced passengers. He does his best to observe decorum, however, he senses Olivia would rather be somewhere else. Perhaps she is looking for an excuse to leave the Sultan.

"Madam, if you would do me the honor of the first dance?" He extends his hand and prepares to lead her to the dance floor.

Noting that the rush to prepare for the Grand March seems to have petered out for the moment, the Dragonlord searches about to find the Vizier once again, notes he seems somewhat speechless at this sudden turn of events, and decides that now is not the best time to renew their conversation. In fact, everyone around him seems engaged in conversation save for the vizier and himself! How surprising! But then again, that's humans for you. One moment its "rush here, rush there, almost time for the Grand March, no time to chat," then the next its "so-and-so, meet thus-and-such" and "'would you care to arrange an assignation for later?' 'Certainly, tee hee!'" and all that which was of vital import mere moments before seems utterly forgotten. Is it any wonder that their languages change too rapidly to be worth learning every time one awakens?

"Thank you, sir. I am honored. However, if you are agreeable, I will put you down for the first opening on my card, which is the first waltz." Olivia opens her card and indicates to Antioch the Waltz "Myrthen Kraenze" which she dare not attempt to pronounce. "As to the Grand March, here are two charming ladies who, like yourself, have just entered. Perhaps you will allow me to recommend Miss Elizabeth Schumann as a graceful partner for the Grand March."

She turns to the ladies. "Mrs. Schumann, Miss Schumann, I believe Lord Árdghal will concur with my suggestion -- and that in Mr. Antioch we had a most agreeable and genteel dinner companion."

Antioch turns toward the younger woman and offers what he hopes is a charming smile. While thought of Constance threaten to overwhelm his attention, he manages to keep his eyes and attention on matters at hand. It is time to dance or, at least, warm up before the dancing really begins. A march, he thinks suddenly, shouldn't be to hard. After all, soldiers have been doing it for years.

"Mademoiselle, I am sure the majordomo would be happy to place us in line, if you would only do me the honor of accompanying me to the dance floor.

The Vizier bows to the ladies, then extends his hand to Fraü Schumann. "Fraü Schumann, will you do me the honor of accompanying me in the Grand March?"

The Great March

He catches himself about to sigh, and firmly stifles the impulse. "How long?" he thinks, and mentally shrugs. Soon the ball will begin, and he will dance tirelessly with those who are willing, and he will ignore the gossip of those few who are not and he will eat the food and laugh at the jokes and discuss whatever topics of conversation these humans consider important today and there will be no mate and there will be nothing worthy of his memory to possess and he will leave his cabin unoccupied and pace the decks until dawn as he always does after these human events and then he will go on as he always does until it is time to sleep again. Tedious. Tedious indeed.

Dominitus Swiftwing, Lord of Tegelberg Aerie, ancient of his kind, looks wistfully at the musicians and spares a brief moment to wish that things would get underway before turning back to resume listening to the conversations around him.

Eye of the great Wyrm, thinks the Dragonlord upon hearing Fiona and Jean-Michel's conversation, now they are discussing CLOTHING! Will this interminable wait never end? Once again he stifles a sigh.

When circumstances are unfavorable, one must alter the rules of the game to suit one's own preferences. Turning his head slowly, keeping his expression bland, he waits a moment to catch the eye of Harry Gato the majordomo, then focuses the force of his will behind his eyes, stopping the poor man in his tracks with the force of his stare. For a bare moment Harry Gato is reminded down to his soul of the relationship that the great dragons have had with man for most of recorded history, and that the being standing next to the Sorcerous Security Officer - despite the claims of high society - is most certainly not a gentleman, for he is neither a man, nor gentle.

After holding Harry pinned for a few seconds, Lord Swiftwing inclines his head in the direction of the musicians and nods once, then lets the force drain out of his stare, smiles blandly, and turns back Frau Ehrenburg. "Madam," he says cordially, "I believe that the will be striking up the march at any moment. If you would permit me to lead you to our place?"

Following the discourse on "Fashion in the Americas" she had requested of Jean Michel with interest, Fiona prepares to ask more about the native dress of the common people, their jewelry and whatnot, when suddenly she sees Lord Swiftwing skewer the poor majordomo with a stare, designed, she believes, to get the music started. Stifling a reply, instead she gently looks in the Dragonlord's direction, then looks back at Jean-Michel and smiles, making sure Jean-Michel catches the tableau before them.

His reaction is as swift as it is unexpected: He steps between Fiona and the Dragon Lord as if to protect her from an imminent attack; whereas she cannot see Jean-Michel’s face, her hand on his arm tells her as clearly as words of his readiness to act. She remembers this is precisely how he behaved in their first encounter; not instigating an attack but certainly prepared to ward one off and very likely follow through with one of his own.

“Sacrebleu, I should not like to be under that one’s gaze for long” crosses Jean-Michel’s mind; this event serves to reinforce the fact that Dragons are a power unto themselves and by no means to be trifled with. That look was one he would expect a hungry bear to give a rabbit, not one sentient creature to another. Jean-Michel makes a mental note to himself to thoroughly question someone about proper Dragon etiquette; bad enough that a misunderstanding could lead to a duel with, say, the Fairy Lord or even one of the human passengers but a falling out with Lord Swiftwing could lead to some highly unpleasant consequences. Besides, being eaten by a Dragon would certainly prevent him from accomplishing what needed to be done….

The moment passes and Jean-Michel again takes his place by Fiona’s side, his tenseness flowing away. “Pardon, Mademoiselle, you were saying…?” He seems a bit distracted and his brow is slightly creased with concern but other than that his attention is again upon Fiona.

Noting Jean-Michael's reaction the Dragonlord, an expression of bland pleasantry now firmly set on his face, merely allows a ghost of a grin to flit across his face, nods fractionally to the airship captain, and touches his hat to Fraülein Rohling before returning his attention to Fraü Ehrenburg and preparations for the upcoming March.

The jockeying for position and the pairing of dancers stretches on, as everyone attempts to get in line for the March, secure a place suitable to perceived rank, and maintain composure and grace - not always successfully. This is much more difficult with a diverse and cosmopolitan crowd than with a carefully prepared list of guests, and feelings are bruised left and right even as the Parsifal's personnel tries to soothes inflamed personalities. The waiting only makes tempers more irritable.

Those who have a better view of the greeting table and the Majordomo notice that the Purser is standing next to him, and both are talking animatedly with a Steward. Fraü Ehrenburg exchanges a frowning glance with nearby Leutnant von Locke, but remains silent. After a moment's deliberation, the Majordomo turns towards the orchestra and signals for them to begin, while the Purser walks out briskly with the Steward.

The conductor of the orchestra nods in answer to the Majordomo's signal, raises his baton, then lets it fall and the orchestra attacks the "Coronation March". Immediately, the waiting dancers' annoyance is put aside for the moment, as everyone concentrates on looking their best. It wouldn't do to trip on one's hem, or the hem of one's dance partner, in this most visible of moment. Later dances may be more forgiving as visibility goes, but no mistake can escape public view in the opening march. Fortunately - and purposedly - the steps and pace are the very easiest of any dance, so that no one who pays a bit of attention needs be ridiculed.

The orchestra is quite good, and Fraü Schumann, on vizier Sefik's arm, nods approvingly. The melody pours forth with strength and effortless elegance, sounding less triumphal than the title might indicate but also more joyful. The couples stride in at a leisurely pace, but with festive lightness. No one is revealed as a hopeless bumpkin for the time being, as it is easy for those unfamiliar with the steps to follow the lead of those ahead. And Lord Swiftwing and Fraü Ehrenburg, as the leading couple, offer a supreme example of skill.

One by one, the couples file in and walk through the precise, stately figures of the march. In a more daring and smaller event, it might have been tempting to have the march immediately followed by a demanding quadrille as a counterpoint, but this would never do in a varied crowd like this which must be slowly shepherded. The polonaise that follows the march is relatively slow and easy, offering a gradual change towards the carefree whirling of the waltzes and polkas yet to come. It is already becoming apparent to most gentlemen that the comfounded contraptions their partners are pulling around with them as dance cards are going to be a deuced annoyance.

Fiona smiles gently at Jean-Michel's gallantry, and proceeds to have a wonderful time dancing the Grand March. When it is finished, she curtsies deeply. "I look forward to our next dance, sir."

Jean-Michel replies with a bow, “As do I, Mademoiselle. That would be the ‘New Champagne’ Gallop to be followed later by the waltz with a title very nearly as long as my name.” With a quiet laugh he takes his leave of her and goes to find Doña Olivia.

Carefully wending his way through the throng he succeeds in finding her just after Lord Árdghal departs. Jean-Michel inquires, “You are enjoying yourself so far, I hope?” and offers his arm.

To Be Continued...

Notes:

Return

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'Round and 'Round

Story So Far

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