Waiting for an opportune moment, Fiona tries to catch the Dragon Lord's eye. Smiling brilliantly, she says, "One would think you were old friends -- or very old adversaries. My name is Fiona Adelia Rohling, and I would be very pleased to make your acquaintance." Fiona proffers her card, waiting for a response.
The Dragonlord arches one eyebrow sternly under his hat, but there are faint traces of a smile at the corners of his mouth. "Madam," he begins formally, "I assure you that I am much more polite to my friends, and my adversaries are much more polite to me." Withdrawing a card, he hands it to Fiona, doffing his hat with his other hand. "The Turkish gentleman was merely a chance aquaintance with a rather boorish secretary."
"Then, my good Lord Swiftwing, you are very noble indeed. I am pleased to make your acquaintance. I'm afraid I cannot claim half so noble a lineage, but we may have something in common -- " as she turns a dimpled but radiant smile upward toward him, "an inordinate passion for collecting rare and beautiful things. Have you ever, perchance had occasion to visit my family's shop in Munich?"
While Lord Swiftwing and Fiona exchange calling cards, the beautiful Faerie seems to lose interest in human games and slowly turns away, a dreamy look on her face. She is still holding a small object in her hand, the same one she tried to show to the Dragon Lord earlier. Although it is hard to see the object, she rubs it against her cheek from time to time.
Slowly, she drifts off towards the far corner of the station, near the window. Several young men look at her with longing, but her distant look and lack of interest seems sufficient to keep them away.
"Oh dear," says Fiona, noticing Constance's strange behaviour. "I do believe Lady Constance may be ill or distressed. She was speaking with you when I arrived, Lord Swiftwing. Do you know what the trouble might be?"
"Indeed I do not, madam," says Lord Swiftwing to Fiona, looking at the enchanting Faerie woman. "I confess that I have been somewhat less attentive to the Fey than good manners would require, due to the difficulties with the vizier and his boorish secretary. I must tender an apology at once, and perhaps offer assistance if such is needed. If you will do me the honor of acting as a chaparone?" The Dragonlord offers Fiona a long and gangling arm. Once she takes it, he strides off towards Constance, halting a respectful distance away. Though his hat remains off, he flourishes it slightly as he gives a swift, but correct, bow.
"My lady," he says formally to the Faerie lady, "it has been brought to my attention that you wished to speak with me and that I, being involved with other matters, regrettably treated with you in an inexcusable and boorish manner. I most humbly apologise for my reprehensible actions, and humbly beg your forgiveness. How may I be of assistance?"
Constance looks up at the Dragon Lord and the lovely human maiden on his arm (or near him). She smiles radiantly, if slightly unfocussed, and nods her head, causing her fall of blondish brown hair to cascade around her neck and down her pale shoulders. Unlike the custom, the Faerry woman seems to prefer a more natural hairstyle. She looks up into the eyes of the elegant Dragon Lord, and says, "I understand entirely, dear sir. You were occupied, and it was ill timed of me to interrupt you, for which I offer my humblest apologies. I had wished to speak with you on a slight manner, concerning a Roman artifact that has come into my possession. A certain antique dealer spoke of a Draconic gentleman matching your description who was leaving Rome for Bayern. Thus it seemed logical that the gentleman was, in fact, yourself. If this is so, I may have an item of some interest to show you. If not, I beg your forgiveness for disturbing you."
Then she turns the radiant power of her smile upon Fiona, and nods her head gracefully. As the light catches her features, it is clear that she is fair beyond the ken of mortals, save a few the likes of Helen of Troy. This alone would mark her as Faerie, even if one discounted the willowy stature and slender features that speak of her true heritage.
Constance opens her hand to show the Dragon lord an amber bead, a finger's length, shaped like a stylised female form. The amber has taken a dark reddish tinge. The make is ancient, Etruscan or early Roman; although it is very simple, almost primitive, it is oddly attractive. It is pierced through its length, as if it had once been strung as part of some ornament, perhaps as jewelry.
Fiona, having just disengaged her arm from Lord Swiftwing's as he addressed Constance, leans forward to see the curious amber bead Constance holds. Momentarily it seems that she keeps leaning... leaning... lean... and catches herself at the very last moment before tipping over. "Oh, please excuse me, good gentlefolk. I must be more tired than I thought." She recovers her composure and fishes a small mother of pearl fan from her purse, snaps it open and proceeds to cover her embarrassment (and flushed cheeks) with animated use of the instrument.
Constance smiles at the woman's reaction to the amber bead, so similar to her own, although the experience must have been diluted by the mortal blood flowing through Fiona's veins. Still, to gaze upon such a source of Faerie magic must be quite an experience for anyone. She glances up to see how the Dragon Lord is reacting to seeing the bead.
The Dragonlord reaches out with one hand (the one not holding the hat) and extends a least finger towards the item. When he is on the verge of touching it, his hand suddenly jerks back to stroke his angular chin instead.
"An item of great antiquity, and great craftsmanship. You should cherish it and hold it close. I also recommend some suitable sort of jewelry upon which to append it, such as a golden chain or a thong of soft calf hide. truly a remarkable piece."
The yellow eyes veritably burn with interest.
Constance smiles at the Dragonlord's obvious interest. Perhaps he too feels the touch of the Faerie Lady whose power this piece embodies, she wonders? She raises her eyes to his, and gives him an appraising look. "Is there perhaps something more you can tell me of this piece? Some bit of knowledge I might not possess, that might help me understand the importance of this piece. I believe you and I both know this is far more than a trinket, correct?" She holds the bead gently against her cheek, and smiles radiantly.
Fiona regains her composure and looks closely again. "Ah, I believe it is definitely ancient Roman, and represents not only Diana, but Selene and Persephone as well. Obviously it had, and still has, great power. To what end, I should need to study it much more closely to tell you. It is said in my mother's family that one of our ancestors was Hermes. I have no doubt that he knew THIS Lady." She smiles and continues to gaze upon the figure.
Constance turns to stare at Fiona, her face registering puzzlement. Then the look fades, and she smiles radiantly. "Very good. You see much for a mortal. This item is indeed linked to Diana, and contains some aspect of her power, it seems. I do not know about the other two, but I can accept your word for it. Have you a means of exploring the mystery of this piece in greater depth? Perhaps, when we get aboard the airship, we can discuss the matter in detail?" She glances at the Dragonlord, including him in the offer as well.
Lord Swiftwing's face remains inscrutable. "There are some minor conjurations which I might try. I am unsure whether it is wise to do so while aboard the airship, however, as the sorcerous engines must draw considerable power. In truth, I was watching out the window for the Parsifal's arrival in order to asense the aether to discover just how dangerous sorcerous activities might be."
Constance smiles and shakes her head. "As I recall, all forms of magic are forbidden by passengers on the airship, for reasons that are unclear to me. Something about it disrupting the Engines. I am mostly unfamiliar with your mortal technologies, I fear. Such things are foreign to me. But I do know that I will not be allowed to employ my Glamours within."
She glances down at the strange bead, her brow furrowing for a moment. "I hope that the power of this artifact is not harmful to the airship..." she says, more to herself than to anyone else.
Fiona shakes her head slightly. "It would take some time to investigate what your charm can do ... but I did get a weird sense of time from it; almost as if I was drawn back in time. Of course, it could just be a sense of the age of the item itself ... I don't know. Perhaps my mentor in Bayern could assist you when this trip is done? You would be most welcome in our humble abode ..."
"My dear, 'forbidden' and 'impossible' are two entirely different matters," says Lord Swiftwing to the Faerie lady. "There are times when that which is forbidden becomes, of necessity, required. Determining the amount of power drawn by the Sorcerous Engines will tell me what sort of power I might have to draw upon if such circumstances come to pass. For now, however, I believe that a few minutes will suffice to gain some knowledge of this item. If you ladies will be so kind as to accompany me?"
Once again, Lord Swiftwing approaches the ticket counter. "Sir," he asks the clerk, "might I trouble you for the use of a quiet back room or office for a few minutes?"
Constance smiles warmly at the tall Dragonlord. "I defer to your knowledge of things Sorcerous, my good sir, and I thank you most sincerely for your effort on my part. It would be my pleasure and my honor to have you assist me in this matter." She follows along with the Dragonlord and Fiona, as he approaches the ticket vendor. Standing behind Swiftwing, she favours the clerk with a radiant smile, showing pearly white teeth and twinkling green eyes.
The KLB employee looks perfectly unfluttered. With his round wire-rim glasses and greying blond hair and mustache, the Bavarian employee looks rather like a middle-aged master of music. He nods. "Certainly, Your Lordship," he says with perfect courtesy, carefully omitting to look at Constance or Fiona. "A moment, please."
He disappears through a gilt door in the back, and his voice his heard talking to someone, but too low for the travelers to make out. After only a short wait, he comes back towards the marble-top counter. Opening a half door, he gestures for the Dragon lord and his apparently invisible companions to step through. "If Your Lordship will follow me..." The mild-mannered employee escorts the travelers through the back door, where a short corridor leads to foor more doors.
Constance smiles at the ticket master's exquisitely proper handling of the Dragonlord's seemingly mildly risqué request to be alone with two beautiful women. The man's assumptions are clearly written across his face for her to see. She shakes her head slightly, and her smile widens. Though the Dragonlord is clearly a handsome being, it is also clear that he is neither a Faerie, nor a Dwarf. Constance shivers internally at the thought. Ah, to find a respectable Dwarf, with a good Craft Name, to settle in with. But for the nonce, the Quest must take precedence, she gently chides herself, dispelling visions of short, naked Dwarves with a flush. She gently fans her face, and smiles secretly.
The employee pushes one open, revealing a small but tastefully and comfortably appointed parlor with several armchairs and a loww settee. "This room is intended for the ladies who faint," explains the KLB employee. "As we do not seem to have that problem right now, I am sure Your Lordship will be left quite alone."
Another KLB employee, this one Italian, female, young, and shapely, brings in a large platter with a teapot and cups, a bottle of wine and glasses, finger food, china and silverware. She carefully sets her platter down and arranges the contents on a low coffee table, then straightens up. As she walks out, she slides an appreciative look towards the tall Dragon lord, long dark lashes fluttering delicately over dark pupils.
Constance gracefully seats herself in one of the plush easy chairs. The room is beautiful, as is the young serving girl who brings them refreshments. Constance smiles approvingly at the girl's innocent flirtations. Ah, the sweet wine of human desire...
The Bavarian employee bows to Lord Swiftwing, then exits, closing the door behind. Lord Swiftwing is left alone with a saucy Irish-Bavarian redhead and an exquisite Faerie...
Prior to departing the main ticket area, the Swiftwing gestures to his footman to accompany him, and to his valet to keep an eye on the luggage. Once the various employees have done their bit and departed, Swiftwing speaks to his footman. "Please make certain that we are undisturbed for the next fifteen minutes, but don't be brash about it. If there is an urgent matter, a fainting woman for example, that is certainly worth disturbing my minor efforts here. In truth, all you really need to is assure that no one wanders in here thinking it is the water closet, and that the employees of the airship company do not ply us with food and drink."
He then faces Fiona and Constance. "Ladies, I assume that you are at least moderately familar with the etiquette of the magical circle. I shall require approximately ten minutes of undisturbed quiet in order to gather the power necessary to cast the spell. The two of you may sit and enjoy the repast provided, so long as you make no raucous noises." He turns to the Faerie lady, "Madam, please place the object here on the coffee table." he taps the desired spot with a long finger. Then, like a jack-in-the-box in reverse, he folds himself into a sitting position on the floor and closes his eyes.
Fiona ignores the stares of the employees as she enters the room. "At last!" she effuses to herself, "an opportunity to see a Dragonlord at work." Ignoring the food and drink she will settle quietly but snugly on a convenient chair close to both Constance and Lord Swiftwing, with a clear and unimpeded view of the table. She prepares to send herself into a slight trance of concentration in order to observe and learn from the magical workings about to commence
As the Dragonlord begins his meditations, Constance carefully places her bead at the exact spot Swiftwing indicated. Then she settles in to watch the strange phenomenon of Human magic, for the very first time.
Watching the Dragonlord at work is entralling and interesting in a way that only watching someone sit completely motionless on the floor for ten minutes doing absolutely nothing can be...
Constance watches the Dragonlord at work, totally enthralled. This lasts exactly as long as it takes for her to realize that the tall Dragon is not going to do anything exciting, it seems. Then she turns her attention to the silverware the servant girl brought. Uninterested in the food, she prefers to lift each piece of silver sperately and carefully inspect it's workmanship, and admire the detail. As she does this, she begins to very softly hum to herself, a flowing, complex melody that makes her smile.
Fiona remains focused, trying to pick up any information from magical "overflow".
After several minutes, the Dragonlord unfolds from the floor as if on hyraulic lifts. His eyes are distant, and he speaks almost as if in a trance.
"The amber bead is indeed imbued with a Faerie aura, and with traces of Sorcery. In fact, it shares several overlapped auras. The two clearest are that of the original wearer, a very powerful faerie; and that, very recent, of a mortal man imbued with dark powers."
"This bead was made in late Etruscan days, before Rome was even a Republic. The creature humans worshipped as the triple Goddess that Romans would later call Selene, Diana and Persephone was a powerful Faerie, and wore this bead as partof a necklace that also included the smaller round bead you own. She eventually gave it to her priestess as a recompense."
"Selene/Persephone/Diana was a moody, mercurial Tuatha de Danaan, the highest of Faeries. The likes of her has not been seen by Mankind in probably two millenia, except perhaps for King Auberon."
"The bead does not appear to warp the thaumic fabric in large folds, but it does cause a lot of small subtle ripples. My best guess is that it acts as a sort of compass for the bearer, pointing him or her in a certain (unknown) direction. It is also possible that it works both ways, attracting other people, things or events towards the bearer. It does not appear malignant in nature per se, nor does it appear beneficial."
Lord Swiftwing visibly shakes himself, and turns to the faerie lady.
"Might I ask where you got this?" he says, gesturing at the bead.
Constance listens carefully to the Dragonlord's explanation, and nods absently when he mentions that the bead was held by a human male with dark powers. She seems distressed, but hardly surprised by the revelation. As he begins to explain about the nature of Diana/Selene/Persephone, Constance begins to smile softly, and shakes her head gently. She seems almost wistful, her eyes focussing on some memory. She starts a bit when informed that the bead is acting as a compass, and her eyes narrow. She nods to herself, and reaches down to pick the bead up, holding it before her eyes, as if attempting to divine some secret from its glassy surface.
But when she hears that the bead attracts others to her, she starts visibly and looks up, her eyes filled with conern, and perhaps a trace of fear. She looks quickly to the door, before regaining control. She slips the bead quickly into a pocket, and folds her hands nervously before her.
"I acquired the bead while searching some ruins. It seemed drawn
to me, and I to it. Now I know why..." she says, the last almost
to herself. Then she looks up into the Dragon Lord's eyes,
and over to where Fiona
sits.
"There is more to this tale than I have told you. There is a terrible danger that seeks to overwhelm the Faerie Lands, and this bead is part of it. I have a desperate need for assistance in this matter." she says, then she takes a deep breath, as if to draw courage, and looks down.
"I believe myself a fair judge of character, even that of mortals, and I feel I can trust you. I have a tale to tell you, one of a terrible danger that seeks to overwhelm the very heart of Faerie. But please, be warned. If I tell you my tale, and you agree to assist me in any way, you shall be in grave danger. You might be wiser to walk away from this matter, which you may do without any fear, for this is my problem, and no one else's. Only the desperation of my plight compels me to impose on you both in any way...."
She looks up again, and her eyes seem misted with tears, and she shivers slightly.
Fiona listens with fascination to Lord Swiftwing's explanation, then Lady Constance's disclosure. "Danger!" she thinks, and feels a compelling mix of excitement and dread. Although her eyes glisten, she politely waits for Constance to finish speaking and says, "My dear, of course I will not let you face this danger alone! The threat to yourself and the Faerie realm must be neutralized. You may count on me to lend any assistance that I may."
"Madam, I am at your service," says Lord Swiftwing formally.
He then mutters under his breath, "What IS it about this deuced zeppelin
company anyway? Can't a gentleman travel from one locale to another
without running into adventure?"
"Very well, then. You have my thanks, and the thanks of all of my kindred. Your names will ever resound in the forests of Faerie as friends of the Forest Women, if I have any say in the matter.
"I do not know how much you know of Faerie, but there is one aspect that I am fairly sure you have not heard of. In the heart of the deepest forest, the home of my people, there is a great oak tree. Tall and majestic, this mighty tree is simply called Grandfather Oak, and it is a source of much power. In a way it is the very heart of the forest, and lends great power to all of Faerie.
"For millenia, this tree has grown in the verdant forests of the Seelie realm, guarded by my people, the Dames Vertes. It provides knowledge and power, and in return, we ward its life. But the Tree grows old. And it is near the end of its life. Normally, when Grandfather Oak is nearing the end, it produces a single perfect seed, its offspring, as it were, which contains all of its wisdom and accumulated knowledge. The Dames Vertes plant the new tree, and Grandfather Oak dies and is reborn.
"And that is where it gets sticky. You see, I was born of a human father. This may seem a strange interlude, but it is critical. Suffice to say that my Father broke the Marriage restriction of the Dame Verte, urged on by his jealous son, and died of a broken heart, pining for my Mother and me. His son blames us for his Father's death, and has sword a bitter vengeance. So great was his hate that he sold himself to the Adversary in exchange for the power to harm me and all my sisters.
"This power enabled him to enter our forest and steal away the sacred Seed, killing several of my sisters in the process. But as he fled, he was sorely wounded by an elfshot, and his blood stained the earth. Then something odd happened. He fell through the Veil on his own power. The Seed was lost to him. Now he walks the Mortal Realm, seeking his prize, for he cannot return to his master empty handed.
"The Dames Vertes have appointed me to regain the seed, and restore the honour of our people. To have lost our sacred charge is an insult and a dishonour.
"You may wonder what this has to do with you and your people. Simply put, Grandfather Oak grants power to whichever land it is seeded in. For millenia, the Seed has enabled Auberon to fend off the Adversary's militant overtures with ease. The knowledge and magic of the Tree gives life to the Land, and makes it strong.
"But should the Seed be planted in the Unseelie lands, the Tree will be twisted and evil, and the Unseelie will gain greatly in power. The Adversary will become even more of a threat, both to our lands and to yours. He may even be able to throw off the balance, and topple Auberon's regime, and take over our lands as well as his own.
"So you see, if I cannot regain the precious Seed, we all may have much to fear. Much indeed..."
Having said her piece, Constance sits back, her eyes watching for the reactions of the two people before her, hands nervously drumming in her lap.
"Oh dear," said Fiona. "This sounds serious indeed. Where do we start looking for it?"
Constance looks up into Fiona's eyes, and smiles her thanks. "The blood my brother spilled calls me, like a lodestone. I have been following it's siren lure all through the mortal lands, and have found many tracks of his power. But now with this bead, it is perhaps possible I can more accurately locate the Seed itself, or even find my brother before he acquires it himself.
"As to where the Seed itself might be, I have been tracking rumors of
newly gained power, of good men and bad who have acquired strange abilities
or have begun to exhibit unusual knowledge. The Seed is most powerful,
and I cannot say what effects it might have upon a mortal user. I
would hate to think what might happen if the Seed were planted in mortal
soil." She shudders at the thought, making a small fluid gesture
with her fingers, clearly some sort of warding.
Constance looks up, startled by the knocking and the voice, obviously lost in her narrative, and her thoughts. She looks to her two companions. "It seems our transport is here. Mayhaps we could continue this conversation in the comfort of the airship's lounge?"
"Certainly, my dear," says Fiona, putting her arm protectively around Constance's waist as they leave. Looking conspiratorially at the Dragon Lord, she continues, "Lord Swiftwing, could you make certain our path is secure?"
Lord Swiftwing bows once more. (Noting what a deuced nuisance it is to have to carry one's hat around when in the company of ladies, the Dragon Lord makes a note to be sure to avoid such inconvenience in the future by handing said object over to his footman). "Madam, your servant," he says, and leads the way out into the waiting area once more.
Constance again smiles her thanks to Fiona and the tall Dragonlord, allowing the mortal woman to guide her out of the small room, and back out to the deck, where the other passengers await the docking of the airship.