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Charlot Residence — Noble District
Archways are what appears a central theme within the Charlot residence. To enter the parlor one must pass through an archway, and another leads towards a bigger salon that can be used for holding smaller social gatherings and dinners. The white of the walls provides a clear contrast to the dark woods used in the furniture, mahogany wood chosen predominantly in those high-back chairs and the table that has easily enough space for ten people. Windows open towards the south, providing a pleasant climate during hot summer days. They are framed by long curtains of dark red that can be drawn if in the need for privacy. On evenings and at night, there is lighting provided in the oil lamps at the walls and through the three candelabras where candles can be lit to provide a somewhat intimate atmosphere.
The hearth of white marble is mostly used during the colder seasons, and a number of skillfully carved black wooden horses have been arranged upon the mantelpiece, above which the crest of House Charlot graces the wall, the black horse prancing on a field of red. Through a door one can enter the gardens, and a stairway leads to the upper floor, where the private chambers of the residents can be found.
It is a comparatively cool summer day, as in the afternoon, grey clouds had been gathering in the sky. Right now it looks likely to rain soon, a thought that may pass Cyriel's mind as he glances towards one of the windows. The Vicomte de Chavagne is currently seated in one of the comfortable chairs by the white marble hearth. He is clad in clothes adequate for a noble, doublet and breeches of dark green, and his brown hair of medium length has been pulled back into a ponytail, thus drawing attention to his aquiline nose and rather unique features. Pale blue eyes glance towards the letter he had been reading. Upon the side table, a flagon of red wine and a glass can be glimpsed, the glass half-full suggesting he may already had a sip of wine.
The door to the Charlot Residence swings open and in walks a tall young man, clearly a noble judging from his outfit. Thibault glances around the hallway for a few moments before turning to close the door behind him. No expression is given. Then he starts moving towards where the hallway leads into the residence proper with slow, perfectly balanced steps and movements.
He's wearing a stylish sombre attire in the colors of his house. Black linen pants tucked into perfectly polished boots reaching to midway up his calves and a dark crimson shirt of finest silk under a finely embroidered black vest. A long thin scabbard holding his rapier hangs at his waist, held by a thin red leather belt with intricate carvings secured around his waist. The thick black hair is in it's usual state of what can best be described as controlled chaos, a few locks insistently falling down to rest on his forehead. If the rest of the outfit isn't enough to show what family he is from, the large gold ring on his right hand will remove any doubt. It's etched with the symbol of a prancing stallion, proud and untamed, and clearly indicates him as a member of the Charlot family.
Those determined footfalls cause Cyriel to look up; and then to fold the letter and stow it away as he moves to stand. There is pride in the way the older Charlot stands there, his chin lifted, his eyes alight as they consider the younger kin of his. And yet, a small smile curves his lips, perhaps from the view of the rapier dangling from his cousin's belt. "Thibault." The name is greeting as well as statement, uttered in a calm tone. "I heard you'd arrived in Marsilikos." A beat. "Safely, as it seems. I trust your travels were uneventful?"
Thibault's head turn towards where a voice speaks his name and addresses him with a sort of welcome, or what will have to pass for it. The pride and self-assuredness of his cousin is mirrored in every movement as he stops and turns to face his kin. His eyes narrow slightly and a hint of a smirk plays across his lips as his eyes study the other man for a short moment, eyes of golden amber seemingly judging and assessing the older Charlot. "Cyriel." He offers back in greeting. "You look…..old.." A beat. "…when did that happen?" There is a slight humor to his voice and a short raise of eyebrows, albeit so faint it might just take another Charlot, or someone of similar disposition, to notice it. Then he looks around the room and moves towards a cabinet, fetching himself a glass before moving towards the table where he starts to pour himself a drink from the already open bottle. "Yes, thank you, quite uneventful and quite safely. And it seems like the rumors of your own presence here is true I see. How long since your own arrival?" He looks around the room with a bored expression as he speaks the latter part and then takes a sip of wine from his glas.
The subtle jest of the young cub is met with a deepening of the smile and an audible exhale through Cyriel's nose. "Unlike others, I have learned to rely on other qualities than… young looks." He snorts faintly. "Such as experience. You should try that too, sometime." And there it is, playful needling banter between two Charlots. "I'm glad to hear," Cyriel comments then on Thibault's reply about uneventful travels. "About a month," he tells his cousin after a moment. "And what rumors are you referring to?" A considering glance is given the dark haired Thibault. "It is funny, just this morning I commented on your handsomeness towards a young lady. It seems my memory has betrayed me." Clearly a tease, but it is once again subtle, only visible in the faint glint in his eyes and the deadpan tone he adopts.
Thibault's gaze again falls upon his cousin as Cyriel starts to reply. There is a smile tugging at one corner of his lips. Perhaps he's missed the banter? After all, it's been a year since he left Kusheth. "Yes, you would need to I suppose." he offers easily with a small shrug and a tilted nod. "As for experience.." He holds out his arms, glass still in one hand, not even the threat of a ripple on the surface of the dark red liquid. "…well, here I am." Another sip of wine before he pulls out a chair to take a seat, settling comfortably with his usually lithe and easy movements.
A small wave of the hand then, as he continues. "Rumours might have been too strong of a word to use. You were mentioned briefly in a conversation I had with one of the Ladies-in-Waiting to the Duchess. Quite a charming young woman, if a bit…..different. She seemed quite smitten by you." A glance at the ceiling and a small amused shake of the head as he thinks back to the conversation mentioned.
"Regarding your memory, don't worry, I hear that is a thing that comes with age. Things get fuzzy. And now your eyesight seems to be failing you as well, such tragedy…two more things you will have to learn to not rely on, I guess." This offered matter-of-factly, only a hint of mischief in those piercing, amber eyes giving away that he is being anything but completely serious. Seemingly satisfied with the back-and-forth for now, he moves on. "So, what have you been keeping yourself occupied with for a month besides charming the youth of Marsilikos?"
"Are you meaning to boast to me of your d'Angeline beauty?", Cyriel counters with a snort. "My eyes are quite fine, I'm quite sure. I can tell a conceited braggart when I see one. It's been a while though, so excuse my astonishment." Fine humor shifts into a more earnest expression. "I know I have been a rather scarce visitor to Châteaugiron during the last couple of years. Unlike you, who has the great duties of a Vicomte still ahead of him, I've been doing this for quite a while… Unexpectedly, as you certainly know. But perhaps we two have more in common than you think. Two younger brothers, neither of us intended to be heir." He sighs. Of course, Thibault will know of Théodore Charlot, Cyriel's older brother, who returned from battle in Skaldia crippled and broken.
The older Charlot in the room does not mind the banter, a faint grin more visible in pale blue eyes than in the almost non-existent curving of lips. "What have I been up to? There are some slow negotiations regarding horse trade. Beside of that… Very few diversions at the Court de Nuit. And you know, certain inquiries that have to be made."
A silent laugh is exhaled through the nose as Thibault gives the blue eyed Charlot a mildly amused look . "Merely commenting on the lack of yours, cousin." Smug. He waves it off as he takes another sip, emptying the glass before placing it on the table. "I'm not so out of touch with reality as to consider my looks anything special in a land where beauty is the norm. Besides, you're the one going around speaking of my supposed handsomeness to others, not I." A shrug and a curious glance at Cyriel.
His head tilts back slightly and eyes wander the room for a moment before answering Cyriel's words of family and unexpected duties. A nod. "Yes, we were all sorry to hear about the passing of your father. I'm glad to see that the title of Vicomte is agreeing with you now that your brother couldn't shoulder the burdens after his injuries. At least my own decided to show his ineptitudes early on, for better or for worse…"
To the words about what his cousin have been doing since arriving in Marsilikos, a disappointed expression is offered. "Well that certainly sounds…dull. What might these 'inquiries' have pertained to?" He reaches for the flagon and starts filling his glas. "Something at least slightly interesting I hope?"
"In a land where beauty is to be found in abundance," Cyriel counters with a fine smile, "features of character might stick out more than the average handsome d'Angeline. So you are right. I may be at the advantage there." A shrug then, of his shoulders. "The matter with Théodore is a sad fact we have had time to get accustomed to." No regret there in his voice, on the contrary, a slight hardening of his pale blue gaze as he mentions the name of his older brother. "As for my father… it is the way of things. I am a Charlot, so I'll shoulder whatever duties are placed upon me by my family." Canting his head slightly to the side, Cyriel considers his younger relative for a moment, eyes narrowing. "Dull, you say. And yet. I would think you of all might have a particular interest in the matter. Not that my…" he smirks faintly, "investigations have revealed much so far. You and I need to go and visit family. There is a Charlot. An adept, half-Charlot, half-Baphinol at the salon de la Rose Sauvage. A Red Rose, as they call them, the Roses of Valerian canon. Perhaps he would know, if one particular cousin of ours has been visiting this salon, that caters more than any others here to… Kusheline preferences."
"Character? Is that what they call wrinkles now a day?" Thibault offers with a bit more obvious amusement, making the jest more than clear. Then his expression turns more sombre. "Yes, family… One of the burdens we all have to shoulder. Seems like all families need a little tragedy. Let's hope that our cousin Nathaniel manages to avoid the curse of the firstborn that seems to plague our house as of late." A glass is held up in a silent toast before he takes another sip.
A skeptical look then at his cousin, and a withheld breath at the mention of a Charlot courtesan in town, a breath that is released when Cyriel mentions that he is speaking of a half-cousin and which salon this cousin plys his trade in. "As much as I am tempted by your invitation to visit the local Court de Nuit and one of our cousins, I would be remiss if I didn't ask why you think what he has to say might be of /particular interest/ to me?" The expression of the younger Charlot is void of emotion but the the body language and the way he looks at Cyriel reveals that his interest has been peaked. "And who might this relative be that you think might hold information? Aunt Lisette's child? I forget the name, you know the one I speak of."
"He is of interest to us," Cyriel clarifies towards Thibault, brows lifting as if he were talking to a child. "One of the Rose Sauvage's has told me Dior is a Red Rose. He would know if a Kusheline would have entered the salon. Dior must be one of the younger ones, his older brother would be the heir to the Comté of Avignon." He frowns, brows furrowing slightly. "As for character, it was more my nose and my general features I was referring to. Not wrinkles. You should know better than that." It seems only fair to punish his younger relative a little, by keeping him for a little while longer in the dark of what Cyriel had been looking into. "Back to our topic. The Baphinol heir would be Jehan-Pascal who appears to be in town. He may be another lead. To one of our Charlot cousins that has gone missing, my dear Thibault."
Thibault's lips move as if to speak at his cousins initial words, and the expression adopted, but he seemingly decides against it, allowing Cyriel to continue, taking another sip of his wine instead. "Dior, that's the one. I only remember because he was sent to Marsilikos around the same time as my own brother and our parents mentioned it several times. We only met once when we were very young. I believe he is Lisette's youngest, yes."
A short, resigned sigh and a faint roll of eyes at the words about looks, as if it wasn't him that brought it up in the first place and he has bored of it long ago. Then, when his cousin is done speaking, he answers. "Yes yes, your nose is very….avian. Character aplenty. Now, as you said, back to the topic." The young Charlot leans his tall body in over the table slightly, one elbow resting on it as the hand cups his chin. A thoughtful look. "It makes sense why the younger Baphinol would possibly know something, performing his services to Namaah at the Rose Sauvage, but why do you suspect that his older brother might also have information?" A beat. "And do you have a name for this missing cousin of ours? While I think I am aware of whom you speak, it would be nice to get the elephant out of the room." No humor or mockery in his tone this time, only honest interest and perhaps even a subtle impatience for learning more.
"Oh. Your brother." Cyriel lifts his brows and then furrows them. "Melville. I wasn't aware he is here in Marsilikos? I had always thought he'd been sent to Elua instead. Well. He might be a lead too then. Who knows? Maybe Esekiel elected to seek him out, but… that would indeed surprise me." A shake of his head there. "Esekiel has taken care to keep everyone out of his business lately." The fact that Thibault suddenly gives up on his game of needling about looks earns the younger Charlot little more than a glance. A faint smile there showing on avian features though at Thibault's curiosity. "Yes. Your uncle Esekiel. Not that he and I have been that close, but he has very distinct looks. Just like I have. Character." The latter word snorted out in amusement that - oddly enough - appears to be lacking of mirth. "Remember that incident with the Shahrizai from his childhood? You must have heard the story. About the scar that adorns Esekiel's face, about here." He indicates the area between nose and the upper lip.
A pause, not entirely made for dramatics, follows as Cyriel gives Thibault a long look. "I may have heard word about our Esekiel, that he might be in trouble."
"Yes, well, mother and father weren't exactly open about the whole situation I guess you could say." A shrug and a half-smile that fails to reach the eyes. "I'm not sure why they chose Marsilikos, to be honest, and I suspect that I never shall. Not exactly a name that gets thrown around a lot at home." A beat. "Let's just hope that the other potential leads will turn up something and that we won't have to look further into this…….particular possibility. As you said, the chance that Esekiel would have gone there is slim at best. I am not even sure that /he/ knows about my brothers presence here in the city."
A little humor returns to his features when Cyriel mentions their uncle's scar and the story behind it. "He does stick out like a sore thumb, doesn't he.." A hand comes up almost instinctively to avert any possible recounting of the tale. "And yes, more than once, believe me. As you probably know he lived with us for a number of years, acting as my tutor at the request of my parents. Many stories told, most more than once."
Any sign of levity in his expression disappears again. A slow nod followed by a sigh as he looks away for a moment. "So my concerns seem to be well-founded. Well, shit." His eyes fall on his cousin again. "To be completely honest, I actually came to Marsilikos to look into the current machinations of our dear uncle. I should be in Lyon right now, as it were. The words of his last letter and the lack of a reply since then, however, had me make some minor adjustments to my traveling plans. I am glad I did." A pause as the younger Charlot leans back and grabs his still half-full glass of wine, downing the contents in one swift motion. "So, tell me, what have you heard that makes you suspect that our dear uncle might be in trouble? And what kind of trouble?"
"Your concerns?" Cyriel looks up, pale blue eyes locking on Thibault for a moment. "Are you that close with him? Well. More closely related, you are. With him being the youngest of your father's siblings. Hmmm." This seems something to ponder on, apparently, as the Vicomte de Chavagne does not continue right away. He seems to be lost in thoughts, until Thibault's question somehow draws him out of his contemplations. "What? Ah. Well. Yes. I received a letter from him… Sometime in June, he mentioned being on his way to Marsilikos. There was also a vague hint in there, of him being in possession of an item that might threaten the order of things in Kusheth." A faint roll of his pale eyes there, "I thought this to be an pathetic attempt at seeking attention. At first." He sighs. "Fact is, that so far I haven't found any signs nor proof that Esekiel has ever arrived here. I was almost about to suspect he never even made it here, until, well, this morning."
An ominous glance is cast in Thibault's direction. "Inquiries. One of mine yielded what could be a lead, if only a very thin one. A lady at the palace confided to me, that the name 'Esekiel Charlot' provoked a rather unusual reaction, in one of the Duchesse's handmaidens. The girl said, she'd heard the name, and then denied it at once. As if… the name had been a topic, in the chambers of the Duchesse."
A narrowing of eyes as the younger Charlot leans in over the table slightly once more, fixing his cousin in the gaze of piercing golden orbs that holds a hint of thoughtful skepticism. "What item? Threaten the order of things how? His last letter to me failed to mention any such thing, although there were mentions of a few other….interesting details." A beat. "You don't think that….no, nevermind." Whatever thought he had, it is dismissed with a shake of the head.
Thibault's eyes move to the table for a moment and a hand comes up to brush through the thick, black hair before cupping his chin, a single finger tapping over his lips before continuing. "Well, it's a place to start, at least. Seems to me like the best lead we have so far, thin or not. If nothing else, it confirms that he made it to Marsilikos, or at the very least got close." Eyes move to Cyriel again. "Were you able to acquire the name of the handmaiden in question?"
"And to call us close might be a bit of an overstatement. Let's just say that I owe him enough for everything that he has taught me and that I don't like to feel myself indebted to people, even those of my own blood." He explains in a chill voice.
"A letter, or some such.", Cyriel replies, meeting that narrowing of Thibault's gaze with a faint furrowing of his brows. "What do I know? He kept it vague there. I wish I could tell you more, but…" He shrugs, "Maybe you could share these other interesting details." A brow lifts at the unfinished question. "Noelle.", he replies then. "Her name is Noelle, that is what my contact in the palace told me. As I doubt anyone would buy me chasing and charming a handmaiden… why don't you try your luck? That is… if charming others is in your repertoire. And even if it is not… as you said. You owe it perhaps to your uncle. To clear that debt."
A small sharp exhale through the nose and a shake of the head as Thibault's eyes drop to the table again for a short moment. "Of course. He did always like to keep things vague, never one for straight-forward answers, in words or in writing." He straightens his posture before looking back to Cyriel. "The letter I received was much the same in that regard but, as I mentioned, stated a few things that might help us unravel what it is he has gotten himself into this time. He mentioned having courted the daughter of a Marquis for a number of weeks and that this courtship apparently had to come to an abrupt end. He also mentioned having travelled south and, at the time the letter was penned, finding himself in Boisseuil, meaning that whatever trouble he is in would seem to have originated north of there." A nod then at the name and suggestion given. "Noelle….alright then. While running after and charming handmaidens is hardly a specialty, I'll go to the palace and see what I can find out. Hopefully this 'Noelle' will prove to know something that can help, or at the very least be able to point me in the direction of someone who does." He raises his glass in a short toast to his cousin and proceeds to empty it before placing it back on the table.