A Feast of Tension(Nathaniel)

[Cecille de Val Royeaux]

Cecille stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her dress. It was long, elegant, and a fantastic display of pink. Ribbons decorated her flowing outfit majestically in soft pinks, contrasting the magenta that conquered a majority of her dress. Her hair was tied into a low ponytail that was wrapped with bubble-gum like ribbons. With the combined force of the her elegant appearance yet youthful and girly color scheme, she seemed a mixture of youth and maturity. To some, she may seem outrageous. To Val Royeaux, she looked normal. This was the fashion sense in the capital of Orlais. Flamboyant colors and what others would consider odd accessories circulated Val Royeaux like wild fires. One time, Cecille even heard of a woman who had live birds in her hair.

Cecille took one last glance in the mirror. She had wore a rather tame dress for Val Royeaux's standards on her date with David. She didn't want to scare the boy away with such a fabulous display. He'd have to be eased into that. For dinner with Nathaniel, however, Cecille went all out. Although many considered the fashion sense ridiculous, it was Cecille's favorite aspect of Val Royeaux. Even if they truly were ridiculous, they were experimenting with everything fashionable. As strong as Cecille could be, fashion was still one of her favorites. Do good and look good doing it.

Nathaniel had invited Cecille to dinner at his house in order to get better acquainted, an idea that Cecille wasn't very fond of. There had been obvious tension between the two during their initial meeting and that would no doubt carry over into their dinner. What could she do about it? Say no? Then there would be absolutely no trust between the two, and trust was an important part of a rebellion. Philip had already proven manipulative. If nobody was trustworthy except David, the group wouldn't make much progress. Therefore, she'd have to make the most of this dinner. Who knows, perhaps Nathaniel would prove to be a valuable ally? After finishing her make-up, Cecille left the house, cooking crew in tow, and began to head for Nathaniel's home. For some odd reason, Nathaniel requested that Cecille bring her own cook. She glanced to the three elves. Harmless enough. But why her own? Did Nathaniel not have his own?

Now and then, Cecille would notice stares. No doubt due to her dinner with David, or part of the miniature scandal caused by the three men journeying to her own home. Or maybe it was just her fascinating attire. No matter the cause, Cecille simply kept her nonchalant expression as she approached Nathaniel's home. When she finally arrived, she stabled her horse and knocked on the door, waiting for one of his servants to allow her in.

[Nathaniel de Beniér]

A knock echoed from the walls, carrying the sound back to Nathaniel's study on the other side of the wide corridor. He could smell a faint odor of parchment and ink in the air, although only a faint one; he had done some little notes earlier today.

He stood up to start for the door, greeted by the several simple yet beautiful paintings hanging from the just as simple walls. They were mostly depictions of several famous battles; Grey Wardens battling darkspawn, Orlesians battling Nevarrans, Fereldans and Orlesians at River Dane... it was a long list. Of course, that was not all there was to his walls; there were some landscape paintings, one of Val Royeaux and another of Andoral's Reach in its unruined state.

Several bookshelves littered the sides of the corridor, each full to bursting with volumes. Usually he would stop to pull out one of those wonderful books and start reading, but not today. It was most evidently Cecille who knocked on his door - anybody else short of Emperor's assassins would not knock to his door in such a manner - and, to his own shock, he nearly felt warmth at her company for the dinner.

By the time he opened the door to his guest, all shock and most emotion had vanished from his face, only revealing a relaxed smile he had had to practise so often while meddling with the nobles of Orlais; to his own delight, he had actually become quite good at pretending, secrecy, and subtlety - some of those traits that were cornerstones to the game the nobles liked to play; plotting.

He didn't want to plot against these two, though, against Cecille or David. Today was but a test to show if they could trust each other, however. And he intended to make it a test worth the while.

"Welcome to my home, Cecille. I hope that you will enjoy your stay."

He bowed slightly to her as one would bow to an equal, suddenly letting that relaxed smile fall off. A level, down-to-business look crept on his face as he led her to the slightly more extravagant dining room, lit by oil lamps from each four sides. He didn't trust others, usually; this time was to be an exception. Cecille had to be trusted.

Of course, he had set the table by himself; as well as any servant could have, in fact. There was a bottle of Orlesian spiced wine on the table, which he took slowly and poured for Cecille first and then for himself. He smiled abruptly, and this time it was clearly full of mirth; he knew very well that most nobles would consider serving to other nobles shameful, a servant's duty, not one suitable for one of noble status.

Nathaniel, frankly, did not care.

[Cecille de Val Royeaux]

After a few moments of waiting, Nathaniel appeared at the door, bowing. Cecille grabbed small pieces of her dress, curtsying. He began to lead her through his home and she quietly motioned the elves to follow close. The house was oddly empty of any servant presence. Talk about paranoia. On one hand, any servant could actually be an assassin. On the other, they could just be some poor sap who needs a decent paying job. Needless to say, Nathaniel at least seemed to function well on his own. At least in his paranoia he can at least manage a household. Wonderful, she could trust him to clean her house mid-rebellion. That'll show the emperor.

The house looked as if it had belonged to a prodigal scholar. Books were all around the house, along with a plethora of paintings that mostly focused on various battles. Not only could he clean her house, perhaps he could also tell her all about the history of war. Cecille smirked slyly to herself as they slid through the halls towards the dining room. The dining room itself had a more exquisite appearance compared to the intellectual halls leading to it. She motioned for her small crew of a cooks towards the kitchen and sat down across from Nathaniel. He poured her a glass himself, causing her to raise her eyebrow. Perhaps this informality was an attempt at showing how casual the two could be around the other. Most of the time being around another noble meant being as stiff as a scarecrow.

She smiled as he passed her the glass of wine. How odd. Perhaps he truly would prove to be trustworthy? Then again, some nobles would go to frightening lengths for false trust just to jab a dagger into their foe's backs. Although, to be truthful, Cecille had no fear for death at Nathaniel's hands. He wouldn't be ignorant enough to kill off an ally in a rebellion, much less the woman their champion was craving. No, death was not the reason she did not trust Nathaniel. She truthfully did not know what he'd get out of betraying her. Unless he wanted to turn David and Cecille against each other for some odd reason, he had no way to benefit from her downfall.

So why not enjoy herself?

She rose her glass, clinking it against Nathaniel's. "To David. May he win the tournament." She smiled mischievously to him before taking a sip of the wine. Orlesian spice. Her favorite.

[Nathaniel de Beniér]

Cecille smiled back to him as he offered her the cup of spiced wine. Well, it was a start. He hardly liked pretending, however.

"I wish to be blunt with you. We hardly like each other, but there is a quest that unites us. Perhaps we can benefit from our mutual friendship, and hopefully in time even turn it into a real one - pretension comes almost naturally to us nobles, doesn't it?"

Perhaps she would be thrown off balance for a while there. And each word was true, too.

"I believe that we have to take certain precautions to preserve the life of our mutual friend, David. We also need to, if possible, keep Phillip away from him and us; I do not trust the man an inch after he had proven his true intentions. We have no idea what direction his plans are going to take."

Some nobles had been utterly shocked at his straightforwardness with them, and some just as shocked but able to hide it better - he expected Cecille to be no exception. She was strong, but surely this was something she had not predicted. Strong endures and hard shatters, however. One of his favorite sayings.

He began humming a tune softly, in a low tone; a sad, melancholic humming that was somewhat alike to a battle chant, yet different. This one seemed to be about a completely different battle, not fought with steel.

[Cecille de Val Royeaux]

Cecille rose her eyebrow inquisitively, a small smirk on her face. She took another sip of her wine, listening to what he said carefully. His candidness was quite odd, and also quite refreshing considering how most nobles tended to beat around the bush. No, Nathaniel was certainly an oddity. Perhaps that was why Cecille had a difficult time trusting Nathaniel. While she was used to noblemen like Philip, a man like Nathaniel was different. He wasn't flashy like other men, nor did he seem the type to have someone waiting in your home with a bottle of poison. He was more of a wild card than a man like Philip, and that could be as dangerous as it could be beneficial to her. What he said was the truth. Their quest was much more important than any petty annoyances they had between them. She gently laid the glass down, using her pinkie finger to keep it from making a loud noise.

"Your honesty is appreciated. I think we can both agree we have our differences but in the end, our goals are the same. What you say is true. Placing Empress Celene back on the throne is more important than our trust issues." She rubbed her chin in thought. She still didn't know if she could trust him. There was his unpredictability. He could pull an unforeseen card out of no where. At the same time, he wouldn't be the man who poisoned her wine. After listening to his qualms with Philip, she stared at her wine in thought for a moment. Philip was manipulative, sure, but he still would have his uses.

"Philip proved that he is indeed an unreliable resource. However, I do not think it'd be wise to discard him so quickly, especially this early. If it were not for him, we'd be suffering that fool Gespard's reign longer than necessary. Would you be sparking this rebellion if not for Philip? Both of us would be sitting idly, waiting for 'his graces' idiocy to somehow affect our household and probably be the death of us. We should keep him at an arm's length, but releasing an asset, as unreliable as he has shown himself, could perhaps be a fatal move. We will need someone good at lying, as neither of us has proven it to be our forte, monsieur." She smirked at him, picking up her glass and taking another sip.

"Did I mention you had fantastic taste in wine?"

[Nathaniel de Beniér]

"You are quite right about Philip."

No more than that, though. He suspected that too flamboyant or rich praises would do no good with this woman, although he didn't doubt she was flamboyant herself. Just that flamboyant women never liked to be called flamboyant, not even hear a suggestion of that hidden behind words, which praises would certainly be.

He was thinking too deeply on it again. He couldn't help himself, though: analyzing the situation deeply with little time was one of the traits you gained when spending time with nobles, over time. Not actually deeply, though; you simply began to see more behind the words, between the lines. Not exactly a bad skill to possess, actually.

She broke in his thoughts with carefully chosen pleasantries. Well, this risk worked out in his favor, but how many till they stopped doing that? That day would be the end of them, he suspected. End of him, at least.

He wondered whether he should tell her of his spies, those few he had, all currently working in Cumberland and sending constant reports with pigeons. It wasn't much, and he suspected that Cecille had a far greater network of spies too, yet even a little could be worth something. The question was, was it better to leave it uncovered or tell about it straight away?

Better not tell everything to her the first time we meet. You still have your secrets.

He could bring it up, though. If she proved to him that she was worthy of that little piece of information, perhaps he could tell her. And share his news, which were probably only the same Cecille's had discovered. He did have information about other nobles, however.

"We have a general idea of a plan. However, we will need more than plotting amongs ourselves. We need spies, Cecille. I'm certain that you have one of the largest spy networks in Orlais, Cecille, and I want you to share that information with the rest of us. I believe that I might even have some little to give in return, too. And - I expect us to share the reports regularly, as fast as possible if it's important, and the rest during meetings."

That came out far more straight than he had intended. She did like honesty, though. Another risk, although unintentional - Nathaniel hoped that it would work. The honesty.

[Cecille de Val Royeaux]

Cecille cocked her eyebrow at what he was suggesting. One of the greatest spy networks? Surely he was jesting. Cecille was on her toes, but she had no where near the caliber of spies that some other of her kind wielded. No, she played the game as much as she had to. She only wanted to preserve her own hide in this crusade amongst nobles. She had spies, yes, but only where she felt she truly needed them. While some nobles felt like gambling their lives were worth more than what they had, Cecille was not so foolish. She knew she led a life grander than many. She did not have to risk her safety for a bit more money in her chests. Even with so much money, she would not live long enough to enjoy it. Half of having money is enjoying it's splendor. At the state she was in politically and socially, she could enjoy her fortune comfortably. That wasn't to say, however, that she did not have any spies at all.

"I think you over-estimate my interest in the affairs of others, monsieur." Her voice was firm, although not lacking her gentility. "Furthermore, my spies are placed in households that have the potential to harm me. I do not see the need of recklessness in the pursuit of riches when I have a substantial fortune as it is-" She closed her eyes with a sharp smirk before continuing. "However... I do have a few spies hidden amongst allies of Gespard. I suppose your presumptuous thought process is beneficial." Her smirk faded, and she stared at him firmly for a moment. He clearly over-estimated her involvement with the treachery of Orlais.

"However, you will have to give back more than just a little if I'm to share information. I'm much less careless than you anticipate, monsieur. I will not hand out information that could lead to my death without just payment - payment in the form of your own information." Her gaze was hard, yet she grinned, taking another sip of the wine. Did he think she would settle for no less? If so, he was a fool. The way he worded his statement sounded as if he'd give the rebellion a little 'gift' of information should she pour all her spy info into the rebellion.

"Should we both keep our information at the ready, I assure you that we will be able to gather info to formulate some sort of a strategy. In the wake of power, some men become careless and foolish.. I expect no less from Gespard. He knows there are those who wish to end his reign, but the champion of the Grand Tournament? Assuming our plan succeeds and he wins, of course. Should he fail, we may be severely pushed back." She sighed, laying her glass down. She didn't want to consider that possibility. She put as much faith as she could muster into David, but the chance he would lose always existed. This was no small tournament. Then, another idea dawned on her.

"Perhaps... perhaps we could send spies to the tournament to view the other participants?" She smirked. Yes, that would be a good idea. They could get a clear assessment on each of the participants, sending spies to observe the other combatants. They would need spies that were better at stealth rather than the bards that would serve the target as a slave. Should other warriors of low stature such as David enter, then they would have no need of a servant spy. But if they were to hire spies that could stalk David's prey... She nodded quickly.

"Yes, we could hire spies to stalk the other participants. No foul play, of course, just the chance to assess their strengths. It'd give David a better chance of beating his foes, yes?"

[Nathaniel de Beniér]

At least one risk paid off. Perhaps she now thought that she had uncovered his only plan, but without knowing she had already given him the information he really needed. He'd work together, of course, yet the nature of man, that dark, foul well of desolation, tugged at him, pulling him deeper each time it touched his mind. He thought he enjoyed it all: it was a game to be played by grown men, an endless game, and everyone played it. With luck and correct amount of skill applied, you could weave your way through that game and come out on top in the end. He wanted to come out on top; the other possibility was unpleasant. Perhaps less unpleasant than he thought, however.

His risk was not worth it, however, and his plan was laid bare. When something went amiss, smile.

He gave her his best smile.

"Well, it was worth a try. I have a few spies myself, but I have not distributed them in any special way. They might know who our spies are, you see. When a spy is discovered, it stops from being a tool to its owner and instead becomes a tool to the one who discovered him. Perhaps we need to find new targets. Have you thought about bribing?"

Bribing was just an idea, one of those you tossed in the air just to be there ready for anybody to snatch it in the middle of a conversation. It was also one of those ideas you needed a friend to talk about, too. Cecille was a friend, in her own manner. An opportunistic friend, most likely, but a relatively reliable one still.

His smile faded into a thoughtful look about his mouth and eyes, shown in light straining around them.

"As for information, we will lay bare every last bit we have and arrange for more to be brought. Cecille, we need spies. Bards. Perhaps...perhaps Philip could help us with that. I could hardly think of the man without linking him to spies in one way or another. He seems to know too much for a man of his position, don't you think?"

Another suggestion thrown carelessly about as if it was a notion of small worth: another seed planted which could grow into an idea. To Nathaniel, it was half-planned - he intended that seed to be planted - yet half-intuitive, for it came to him in a snap like ideas usually do.

"We want to increase the quantity of our spies... through Philip. Make it known that Philip is raising spies, and then we can raise them too without arousing suspicion. They will think we are countering his actions."

Philip as an asset would prove to be valuable, in this case.

As if he had just thought of something, he regarded Cecille again with those deep, brown eyes.

"Of course we can send spies to the tournament. And we will, obviously."