(1312-06-11) First Contact
Summary: The City Guard watches a carriage for a new Lady Chalasse in town. First contact is made.
RL Date: Thu Jun 11, 1312
Related: None
gal marguerite 

Avenue de l'Agnace

An arch of stone work constitutes the entry point to this avenue, and it will be through the piece of masonry incorporated at the center of said arch - showing grain and cattle - that gives away the home province of families having their residences beyond. The Avenue de l'Agnace favors an architecture both grand and functional, with residences of Houses Chalasse and Somerville surpassing the townhouses of the other l'Agnacite Houses in size and opulence.


There is activity in front of the Chalasse residence once again, this time a rather opulent carriage is parked in front of it having just recently arrived. As the drive opens to the door to the carriage and a hand is offered to the loan occupant, the young woman inside taking it gently by the fingers and stepping out and down onto a provided small footstool. "Thank you Armand." A polite smile is given as the woman takes in her surrounding, looking about the street before turning her head to the residence itself. "Well, not quite what I expected, but who am I to criticize such things, no?" Her voice is soft and her tone almost melodic. "I would assume we have servants inside to help unload my belongings?" Her eyes go wide as she looks to Armand with a questioning glance.

"Ye..yes M'lady. Let me go fetch them for you." The driver seems a bit nervous around the young woman, bowing once and disappearing into the residence.

Marguerite remains standing beside the carriage, hands folded neatly before her, her posture straight and perfect. A glance is given to the top of the carriage where all of the items she has chosen to bring currently are. There were a lot of things. More things then you would thing a typical woman would require for a stint in the city, but Marguerite was not your typical woman. "One would think the help would have already been out here awaiting my arrival." Careless words spoken to herself.

Gal, for his part, couldn't say where the footmen of the Chalasse residence are, or why they're not there ahead of the arrival of the Lady, but the guard, at least, are out, having been called up in a small squadron of four to follow the carriage through the last lengths of its journey and set up a perimeter around the vehicle once it comes to a halt in front of the needful door. It's a small courtesy, really— useful for the household, which doesn't need to then worry about keeping at least one of its staff outside with the carriage at all times when the servants are coming and going and relaying the luggage inside— and easy detail for the guardsmen in their short, bright blue capes, carrying their more or less ceremonial polearms to warn of he perimeter they've set up and their less ceremonial blades on their hips in case anyone decides to make an issue of it.

But, honestly, is that likely to happen? No. Gal and Cole and Josc and Myles have it pretty well in hand, each taking an easy point at a corner of the wagon, but distanced from it well enough to let the unloading proceed unhindered, while keeping the visage of watchfulness to the street. Gal looks briefly over his shoulder to the Lady when she complains of the absence of the footmen, and then looks past her to the door. "If you'd like to go inside and ask after them, we have it here, nobody will bother your car."

Guards. She had certainly expected them. She was used to travelling under escort. In fact, even back home she could go nowhere without some sort of armed contingent following her wherever she decided. It was smothering, but deep down she knew it made her come across as someone of importance and for that matter alone she never complained. It was not like her to choose to socialize with the /help/ that saw to her well-being and her safe passage. It was true, many spoke of the Duc's only daughter as a right spoiled and entitled bitch. At least that was the aura that she gave off. However, many did speak of a softer side beneath the outer-shell that was Marguerite.

The help had yet to come out and there was a clearly audible sigh which totally was intended to be heard that escaped the young woman. "Well. We are off to a wonderful start are we not?" Words once again spoken to herself. It is the word's of one of the Guards that seems to snap her back to a reality that was not the world she chose to live in. "Excuse me? Did you say something? I thought you might have." A smile is given to the Guard with a slight incline of her head. "Why thank you. It pleases me greatly to know that if I were to leave that you would make sure that what you were hired to do would be seen to. No. I will remain here until they return. They know what is expected. I will simply see how long it takes them." She gives a sweet smile, tho perhaps somewhat feigned.

It is a moment longer before the driver and a few of the resident servants emerge, the driver barking orders. "Ducal Suite top floor. Be careful with it all. It is not me who you will have to answer to if you are not." The servants walks past the young woman, offering polite bows and murmured. "M'lady." They had only heard of the Duc's only daughter and what they heard thus far was all they had to go on. "Careful with that trunk. It must remain upright." Her eyes turn to the carriage and the servants unloading it, a critical eye and words expressed if they are not doing their job to her liking. Her eyes flash over to Gal once more. "There is no way that elderly woman is going to be able to carry that." She extends a delicate hand, pointing to another trunk atop the carriage. "Could you see to it? You look quite capable of doing so." Another smile given to Gal. "I know this not…how do you say…in your job description, but you would make this young Lady extremely grateful if you did."

Oof. Well, that was something of an unforced error, wasn't it. Still, Gal bears up under being taken to task with constitution enough, neither flinching nor demonstrating irritation, but easily retreating back into a soldier's bearing and answering her decision to simply wait for her footmen with a, "Yes, my Lady," which could have been the answer to just about anything, for how much inflection was allowed to it, as though the guards simply lined up on the citadel and practiced 100 "yes, my Lady"s every morning until the words lost all meaning and were just so much noise to be produced on cue. The others in his little troupe are no doubt amused by Gal's comeuppance in daring to address the Lady in question, but only Cole goes so far as to sneak a grin across to Gal about it from his post, which Gal ignores so pointedly that it could almost be called a retort. There is, like. Nobody. On the street. Except them. Which makes the farce of being watchful for thieves a little bit strained, but all Gal needs to do is stand straight and still and keep his eyes open, so that's what he does.

He does it so thoroughly that the fact that Marguerite is addressing him slips right past him, at first, and it's not until she's halfway though that he looks behind again. Once bitten, twice shy, but game enough to help— "Hum? Oh. Uh, sure. I mean. Yes, my Lady," he remembers to hide behind those words. To the older servant in question he offers a slightly less formal smile, a helpful little flutter as he leaves his duty pike with Cole and goes to help, looking over the dimensions of the trunk and its various handles to try to come up with the best plan of attack.

The residence servants continue to come and take some of the small items, seemingly no end to how much stuff the young woman has brought. It would boggle the mind to try and process how one young woman could have so much stuff and would choose to bring it all to what was going to only be a temporary residence for her. And all the while while her items are being moved, Marguerite stands by with a watchful eye, occasionally barking out instructions that really do not need to be stated. "That can go in the study. I would like that one in my bedroom. Careful. Don't drop that." It is quite clear that she is going to see to the smooth transition of her things.

As Gal moves to pick up the trunk, the young woman saunters over to him, literally saunters with a small swing of her hips, standing beside him with her arms folded behind her back. "It won't bite. Simply pick it up. Are you afraid of a simple wooden trunk?" There is a soft melodic giggle that escapes her and she regards him with a sparkling eye. "Is it to heavy for you? Perhaps I should have asked him." Her finger extends and points to Cole carelessly. She slowly turns and makes her way over to Cole, walking alongside him and tracing a finger across the cheek of the stoic Guard who is all business. "Should I have asked you?" The question is more rhetorical and she does not even stay there long enough to wait for a reply. She pivots quickly and smiles back to Gal, "That one is going to the bedroom as well. Perhaps I shall follow you up to insure it gets where it needs to be? Yes, let's do that."

Gal isn't so much boggled on how a Lady could own so much stuff as he is on how it all fit into the carriage, at all. Is it bigger on the inside than it is on the outside? Gal sneaks a glimpse inside while he's lining up with the trunk, but, then, prompted to get on with it, "Sorry, my Lady," he answers, not going so far as to explain to her why he's trying to think about how he's best going to maneuver with it before hauling it up. He settles on squatting down and resting his chest against it, getting a hand just barely on each handle and then lifting with his thighs to pull the weight back onto his armored chest. Oh, gah. This is going to suck.

Meanwhile, it's been a long while since anyone has accused Cole of being stoic, even without saying it aloud. He's got a pike in each hand, at this point, and he does his best to not look at her when she teases his cheek. Fortunately for him, she leaves him alone without expecting a reply, and Gal is the one about to be spotted up the stairs, but that he answers, "After you, my Lady." Two benefits to this arrangement: she will show him where to go, and if he happens to fall, he will not fall on her.

It had been quite many a year since Marguerite had visited the Chalasse residence in Marsilikos, in fact she could scarcely remember exactly how old she was the last time she had set foot in the city and and even more of a distant memory the last time she had graces the Ducal suite. However, she did know where it was and well-placed steps with a walk that most certainly was half for purpose and half for show ascended the stairs to the opened door, servant exiting to make what they hoped to be one last trip. "Ah here we are. Not exactly how I remember it, but to my liking."

The Ducal suite; a series of rooms that seemed to manage to blend the rural and pastoral feel of the Chalasse Duchy with that of the elegance it deserved. It was quite obvious that the staff of the residence had seen to the routine care of the suites here, making sure they were cleaned and cared for regularly despite who may or may not be occupying them. "I will be staying in the bedroom on the right." Her hand reaching out to gesture to a pair of double doors with brass handles that were already opened. "You can put it anywhere. I have quite forgotten what I put where and will have to take some time to put it all away."

Hands folded behind her back, the young woman walks about the salon, the main entry room, tracing a finger over the fireplace mantle to perhaps inspect for dust, but finding none or so it would appear. Her words call out through the suite to the Guard as he goes about doing as he was asked. "When you are finished please come see. I have something to give you." Her words are spoken matter-of-factly.

Gal is just focused on taking the steps one at a time, keeping chest to chest, as it were, and breathing steadily to stop himself from panting. What transpires to the left or to the right, he hardly pays note, he's just putting his footsteps into her footsteps when she relinquishes them behind her, then into the suite and finally standing back and letting her open the room she wants it it, somehow managing not to run straight in and let it loose the moment she does so, but walking in with purpose once she's cleared the way, finding a likely spot for it against a wall and out of the way, and squatting down to lower it into place. Standing once more, he's a little dizzied, a little harried, but he has a moment or several to just stand and breathe, listening to her call and closing his eyes, remaining quiet a moment before he answers, "Yes, my Lady."

And then stands there for a few moments more, lifting the edge of his blue cape to his face to wipe away the sweat and taking a few more quiet breaths before squaring up his shoulders and returning from the chamber, finding Marguerite with his eyes and approaching to stand before her at a respectful distance, hands folded at the small of his back, feet at shoulder-width, all good-soldier.

There she stands, her hands having moved to fold before her now, her posture perfect as she remains by the unlit fireplace and mantle. She is the epitome of proper and will never let herself be seen otherwise. "I easily could have asked one of the Chalasse Guards to do that for me and they would have without question or hesitation. It is what they do. It is what they are expected to do. See to my well-being, safety and wishes. They do so because they have to. Not because they want to. Not because they desire to assist the spoiled bitch daughter of Duc Vincent Adelard Chalasse. Quite frankly I suspect they cannot stand me. Can you blame them?"

She steps away from the mantle and makes her way into the study, opening a small box and pulling out green velvet coin purse. Her steps take her back to the guard and she stands before him, the scent of what one could deduce as lavender wafting from her skin. "You had no obligation to assist me. None at all. Your job is to serve the city. Not my every whim. I was testing you, and I must say you passed that test. You could have easily declined to carry that trunk, remaining by the carriage as your actual job insists. I may have gotten upset, but nothing more would have happened. You knew that then and you know that now." She opens the coin purse and pulls out a coin of fairly decent denomination, pinching it in her fingers before him. "Let it never be said that I do not compensate for what I ask of those not required to do so. I will not allow you to decline it and if you do so I will simply walk downstairs and hand it to one of your fellow guards. BPerhaps the portly fellow so he can go eat something." Her eyes meet the guard's and she takes a small breath. "I don't even know your name. That is of little consequence. But if you so choose to accept more coin I may just have tasks in the future that may require someone of your position to assist me with."

Gal is not the epitome of much at all, but he can stand still and with a flat expression for as long as it takes. Just imagine Sarge is in front of them, giving them hell for a lousy showing at morning drills. Don't talk back, don't even let your face talk back. But damn, she makes it hard. Tossing hypotheticals and a last sting of a question that he higgghhhhhly suspects to be a trap, and, thus, wisely elects not to answer. And, sure enough, he's about to reject her offer of a tip. He gets paid by the Citadel and goes where they say go. But she cuts off his refusal with a counter-refusal before he can even issue it, so he opens out his hand to take the coin. That's a nice night out, right there. "Thank you, my Lady," he answers her, and, if she does relinquish it, he can put the coin away in a pouch on his baldric while he considers the offer. "I mean. As long as it doesn't interfere with my assignments from the citadel," he stipulates. He wouldn't mind a little extra coin, though he already doesn't really lack for anything he wants. He just doesn't want much.

As to his name, "I'm Gal," he offers up. No surname to match. "Just send word to the citadel if you need me. I live in the barracks there."

So far as she has done was pay him for carrying a trunk upstairs. It is not her intention to push it any further on this day. It is all about establishing the beginnings of relationship and city contact in a position she will certainly need in the future. The young woman offers a small incline of her head offering her hand now to the guard for what she certainly expects to be a kiss to the back of the hand, whether he gets it or not remaining to be seen. "Gal. I shall remember that name. Easy enough, And if you are unaware…Marguerite. Anything you may have heard about me may very well be true, but I invite you to make your own opinion." Another sweet smile is given, whether it is genuine open to interpretation. "I assure you Gal it would not. I would never think of doing such a thing. You are a Guard of the Citadel and I know where your loyalties and pride reside. No. I simply need someone to perhaps enlighten me on the city a bit. You know…the good place to eat. Where I should venture and the areas I should not. Think of yourself as confidant an ambassador of Marsilikos for a young woman who simply desires information while in a city she is utterly lost within."

She moves to set the coin purse on the mantle and folds her hands before her once more. "I always get what I want Gal. I always have. So one way or another I will. The question simply is…are you willing to do so or do I need to find someone who is?"

Gal's eyes flick from Marguerite's to her presented hand, then back again. He takes a half-step forward and bows, reaching with one hand to take hers but planting the kiss in the air above her hand instead of actually touching it with his lips before he rises again, and even feels a little weird to have gone that far. "You want me to tell you where to go eat?" he repeats back. He usually just gets something he can carry away from a stand in the market, himself, when he's not eating at the citadel guards' mess. "I mean, your mileage may vary. I would venture to guess your taste is more refined than mine, my Lady. But there's the Golden Harbor just down the way, we passed it on the way down the street. It's popular with the nobles and courtesans."

The last of her comments seems mildly threatening, and Gal's not entirely sure how to take it. He really thought this was going to be about carrying boxes or maybe some bodyguarding. "I mean, I'll do what I can. You might find someone else better suited to what you need, and… if so, that's fine. But I'll try?" he can't help but make that last statement sound like a guess, because this is… all very odd, right now.

She half expected the air kiss so the action is dismissed without further comment, her hand pulling back with a muffled sigh. "Why Gal, you act as tho I am going to ask you to kill someone in my name." A laugh escapes her and she shakes her head, the melodic giggle filling the room. "I simply may require some information about the city as any new arrival would do so. Wwo knows the city better than one of its guards? Can you fault me for assuming such?"

Once again she spins away and to the salon side-bar that has been recently stocked prior to her arrival. She pours herself a glass of red wine and takes a small sip, speaking to him from above the rim of the glass. "I would offer you some, but I am thinking it is against protocol to drink on the job." Another sip taken and she walks back over to the guard. "You needn't fear me Gal. Do you think me foolish enough on my first day in the city to recruit a guard of the Citadel to do anything not considered lawful?" There is that laugh again. "I simply feel that a mutual friendship would prove beneficial to the both of us. That is all. Nothing less, nothing more."

Gal's eyes widen a little bit. He did not suspect that he was asking like that, but now that she mentions it, it's like… why would she say that? "No, my Lady," he answers, certainly not about to cast fault upon her, but still not feeling quite at home with this conversation. Well, no. He was fine with it before, but she keeps intimating things he was't even thinking of, and when a person has a need to tell you not to be afraid and that they're not going to do anything illegal, well, that— that is just a whole giant pile of red flags Gal is suddenly hopping over. "Uh— that's fine," he tries to navigate an answer. "If you need something, you know where to find me. I can't make any promises, but I'll definitely do my best," he offers with a mild loft of his shoulders. Even if this does seem a little sketchy, better to be in on it than out of it.

Is she purposely messing with the man before her? Is the cat liking the idea of toying with the mouse? "Why Gal have I made you uneasy?" Her words are spoken with a mock pout and tone. Please forgive me that was not my intention. Sometimes my words are misunderstood." She takes another sip of the wine and smiles at him as the glass is lowered. "I am not asking much of you. Simply a connection in the city."

The wine glass is set down upon the mantle and she moves towards the door, standing by it with her hands folded before her once again, ever the woman of grace. "I suspect they will soon be beginning to question your whereabouts. I would hate for rumors to start upon my first day."

Gal doesn't know whether she's doing it on purpose; honestly, doesn't even know whether it would be a better look to be doing it on purpose or to be doing it and not knowing she's doing it. Either way, Gal is noncommittal when she asks if she's made him uneasy. She sure has, but saying so won't help and might hurt. "Yes, my Lady," he answers her simple need. "Consider us… connected?" he tries, though it doesn't sound quite right. And when she begins to fear for her reputation, he nods briskly. "Yes, my Lady. I'll be outside," which he will be, for a while yet, now. With the guys. Oh, man.

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