The Empire A Castle of Glass

[Medja]

The Festival of Renewal. That was the name Medja and her aides had finally come to decide on in the weeks of planning that had preceded the festivities. Amol-Kalit had many of its own holidays, of course, but unrest was something that had to be quelled one way or another. Recent months had indeed seen to that unrest.

Why? The Regent Empress, Vizier of Stars, Mistress of Ragash, could only attribute it to...well, herself. There was no avoiding it; the Empire was a nation founded by its Emperor, upon the premise of his pseudo-godhood. That Emperor had long since left his throne empty, and Medja had seen to it that it would not remain so unfilled. Despite her best efforts to spread propaganda in her own favor throughout the nation, despite a solid backing of citizens declaring themselves "Medjites," there were still many who railed against change. The Empire was still young after all, such volatility was scorned by many, the "Gerrites" especially.

It helped not that Medja had not yet fulfilled her duty in fully taking her place upon the azure throne of Annuakat. Gerra had long ago proven himself to the peoples of the desert, surviving his literal trial by fire and proving his status as demigod. Medja had long since aspired to exceed that feat, but progress was slow. Mazar-Juma had relinquished its treasure, the Nexus of Aramekh, but collecting Alhaya batteries to ensure the spell that would seal the Scar of Drakormir would both work and not kill Medja in the process had proven more difficult than expected. As of yet, she had but two batteries. Five more would be needed.

In the meantime, something had to be done to keep Amol-Kalit from descending into anything worse than protests--Hundreds forbid, civil war. To that end, the Festival of Renewal had been born. A time of celebration, of appreciation, offerings of thanks to the gods for the immense wealth and prosperity that blessed the deserts of the Empire. A time to celebrate the dawning of new growth and a future of plenty for Amol-Kalit and her cities. One full week of festivity, funded in no small part by the boundless coffers of Ragash.

Medja smiled as she looked out over a dusk-covered Annuakat. Pyrotechnic magicians cast bursts of colorful light and booming sound into the air above the city. Parades led by elephants with howdahs full of performers swept the streets. Wines and meats could be acquired and consumed for a pittance on every corner. Everywhere one could go in Annuakat, merriment and wonder could be found. Let it not be said that Medja learned nothing from the displays of excess her consort Fieravene had put on for her in Ragash.

Satisfied with her work, Medja turned back into her room to be adorned in her gown and accessories for the evening. At the midpoint of the festival Medja had scheduled a gala, an illustrious gathering for the nobility of the Empire and foreign dignitaries alike. There was no attempt to veil what this was: an opulent display of the Empire's strength and wealth under Medja's rule. There was, however, an ulterior motive to the First Gala of Renewal. It was an opportunity for Medja to gather and see all of her most cherished friends and allies from across the continent.

With a sigh and a smile, Medja let herself be draped in her fineries, and readied herself to descend into the grand hall of Annuakat's royal palace--the gala's venue, where guests were surely already gathering.

 

[Dar'aa]

The Festival of Renewal. That was the name she had gathered from the weeks it took to plan for the festivities. Dar'aa breathed a sigh as she wandered through the royal palace towards the steps down to the grand hall, where she was assigned to be in order to make sure nobody was plotting anything nefarious. The many cities of Amol-Kalit had seen peace for a little while owing to the end of much of the unrest that had plagued them in the months before, so there was an obvious interest in keeping this peace, however temporary it ended up being. Sadly, dangers lurked around every figurative corner.

The Regent Empress had done a job for the whole of the country that could only be attributed to her and her corps of spies and such, but there were still some who did not totally agree with her even as she retained one of the highest positions of power in the Empire. Dar'aa smiled, imagining the day the great Medja rose to the Azure throne as the only doubters left fell to their knees in terror or were silenced, possibly by Dar'aa herself. Oh, what a joy that would be. She snapped out of her reverie and continued walking, faster now. Surely there would be punishment to be had if she failed to arrive exactly on time, delivered by none other than Trainer Scar himself.

In the back of her mind ever since she had begun training as a Sapphire hand, she had wondered whether the man had something against her. Once again she shook her head and continued on, worried she would not make it. Still, even as that panic played out, Dar'aa had to appreciate the genius of the event. There had not been a civil war for a second, and as Medja put her plans into action, there could be no repetition of one. That was the entire point of this event, she was sure, and the only thing that impressed her more was the effort the Regent had gone to in order to make this legitimate. A firework exploded and she jumped a few inches, frowning. The colors were beautiful, yes, but the incessant sounds of massive pops was decidedly less so.

Finally, the event held one more purpose, to intimidate. Yes, the environment was beautiful and happy but that did not mean that politic-ing was not taking place. Anyone well-off enough status-wise and not from Ragash would know to make sure they fully understood just how well off and powerful the Regent and her great stronghold exactly were. Chuckling to herself and wondering if that was truly all there was to it, she would wipe her hands on her fancy work uniform and put a clip in her hair of a blue flower, entirely made of sapphires. This might be obvious, but on the other foot, some things are best hidden in plain sight. Besides, she believed the new accessory should probably make her presentable enough to appear before the Regent.

Why was she to see to Medja? The answer was simple, if a bit inconvenient. A tad unknowledgeable, she had failed to see that there was a bit of a ritual among certain sapphires where relatively new spies had to accompany Medja at at least one point as a way of testing their professionalism in a public setting, and Dar's happened to be unfortunately this time. Finally finding her way to the stairs, she would look to the arch and keep eye contact with the top beam as she walked through it, mumbling a prayer that nothing would be wrong with her decorum. As was usually the case, the Empress-to-be (practically) was stunningly beautiful. Dar'aa was visibly struggling not to look, well, anywhere but her face. "Hello, Regent. My name is Dar'aa, and I'll be escorting you down the stairs into the Grand Hall if that's no trouble. I'm afraid it's something of a hazing by some of the senior sapphires for me, but I'll do my best not to bring shame to your name." she briefly deliberated between skipping the curtsy entirely and just fully bowing, but the small fraction of her ego still daring to stay intact stopped her at a deep curtsy.

"Shall we?"​

Medja

 

[Nym]

A year had elapsed since she last laid eyes on the Empress. On anyone, in fact, outside the boundaries of Salitra, and the countless refusals to attend various social gatherings and meetings had become increasingly difficult to maintain. During her tenure as Sultana, whispers had circulated about her remarkable feats—strengthening the city, nurturing her people, fortifying her own resolve, and expanding her formidable army.

Yet, amidst these accolades, tales of multiple thwarted attempts on her life had also woven their way into the stories of her reputation. The specter of her father's legacy, marked by suffering and cruelty during his reign, still lingered. Though Soleiman had met his end, the haunting memories endured, contributing to Nym's sleepless nights haunted by visions of serpents and hidden blades. Every day her wary gaze scrutinised both those close to her, and extended beyond the borders of Salitra, anticipating the shadows of ambitious rulers plotting to seize her dominion.

Despite the counsel of her trusted advisors, urging her to attend the gala and temporarily entrust Salitra to their capable hands, Nym grappled with wavering trust, her mind dwelling on imaginary conspiracies within her council chambers. However, duty prevailed, and she reluctantly decided to participate...

Announced, she stepped through the grand entrance of the foyer, greeted by a sea of unfamiliar faces, a multitude of individuals she trusted far less than the advisors she left behind. Though still possessing an undeniable beauty, Nym's youthful features had been somewhat darkened with the weight of responsibility and paranoia. She wore a dress of black, opulent fabrics, a masterpiece split to allow freedom of movement, adorned with gold chains and an ornate bodice resembling armour, embellished with serpent motifs - the dress radiated regal authority.

She detested these eyes on her. Even still she longed for the shadows she'd grown up in, that she'd been plucked from and thrown into the light. Flanked by four guards, she moved through the gathering, her composed exterior mirroring the tranquility of the arid desert, masking the potential strike of a snake concealed in the shifting sands.

Medja, ever the focal point in any room, was not difficult to miss. A look was all that was required for the guards to peel away from her as she approached the Empress, stationing themselves where she had instructed them to do so. Exposed, she suppressed the shudder that spider-walked up her spine, and managed a composed smile as she dipped her chin respectfully.

"Empress." she greeted coyly, a glimmer of warmth in her gaze.

 

[Avalon Lorvil]

Vika had been caught up in the merriment that flowed on every street; the people were smiling and delighting in the lit up display against the veil of the coming night. Children stood in awe, and the baker could not suppress her smile as she wandered the streets of her one and true home, Annuakat.

She had been up before the dawn could kiss the horizon, rolling and kneading the dough before cutting and slicing designs onto the loaves. Vika had folded pastries and glazed them, had made small hazelnut cakes, and by the time a knock came at her store front door, she had cleaned herself up into clothing not covered in flour.

Instead of her body growing exhausted like it would on any other day, the celebrations taking part all the way to the castle kept her awake and aware of her surroundings.

Vika was a strong believer in feeding off the energy of others. Not one face was truly unhappy, all caught by surprise and wonder in the delightful displays of parade and sparks in the sky.

 

[Veena]

The Palace's party stretched far beyond the ballroom into the antechambers and rooms beyond as groups broke off, seeking a place for quiet conversation, private moments and - of course - more illegal activities. It was in one such room thick with smoke despite the doors that opened out onto the garden with sultry music and men too drunk to stand, that Veena had carved our some space for herself. She had not wanted to come at all; her trade was doing well in Saltra what with the Sultana's unofficial backing. But with such patronage came the need to occasionally come when called. Nym of course hadn't actually invited her. What Queen would invite a common crimin-- ah, humble barkeep to an event of such grandeur? She had just hinted that Veena might put her talents for hearing things to better use in Ragash for a few days and that the warmer climate might do her good.

Everywhere in the bloody desert was warmer climate.

"Royal flush!" Biscuit gave a triumphant coo from her shoulder as she laid the cards out on the table. The players around her groaned and threw away their own hands, muttering in disgust. This was the third game in a row she had won and she had to be careful now lest they grow so angry they couldn't conclude their business with her.

"Come on boys, I'll give you one last chance to win it back. Let's have a drink first, eh?" the djinn smiled and motioned for one of the serving girls to come fill their glasses.

"What's the point? Cheating djinn," a letai spat and folded her arms across her chest, feline eyes narrowing in accusation.

"Cross my hearts and swear on my mothers dust, I can't cheat. Biscuit wouldn't allow it," the tiny green dragon gave a firm nod. He abhorred cheaters. He wouldn't even let her cheat in snap. Of course, nobody believed her. Why would they? How could it be that a dragon commanded such a powerful creature? Yet true it was and Veena would have it no other way.

"Let me make it up to you, why don't I show you what you wrote to me about hm?"

 

[Medja]

Medja's Dressing Room​

Medja regarded the Sapphire attendant with a gleam in her eye. The regent had her tabs on the woman, noting a number of recent documents coming across her desk with Dar'aa's name on them. Dar'aa's initiative and ambition was noteworthy; at the rate she was progressing it seemed as though she was gunning for Samira's position as top Sapphire, a spot that had not been unseated in nearly half a decade. That it was her turn to attend to Medja for the evening did not surprise the regent in the slightest, "hazing" or no.

"A pleasure, Dar'aa," she replied, knowing well the woman's name but appreciating her etiquette nonetheless. Medja didn't need to feel the vibrations of her heartbeat through the floor to recognize that her nerves were likely getting to her, either.

In but a few moments the servants had finished aiding Medja with her dress and accessories, including the usual bands that enabled her geomantic levitation. Medja lifted off the ground with all the usual grace afforded to her.

"The guests await--shall we?"
The Empress-Regent did not wait for an answer as she turned her head towards the hall and floated out. The night was about to begin in gusto.

---

The Streets of Annuakat
​

Sunset was well and truly in swing by now, the Imperial Palace aglow with arcane and alchemical lights. The scent of baking goodies wafting through the streets was but one of many wonderful sensations that filled the air. Even so, it was a standout, the irresistible scent finding its way into the nostrils of many a wandering partier...and scents especially resonate with the more beastly of Amol-Kalit's population.

One of many who would push into Vika's store during the festival would be a hulking, green-scaled fellow, a crocodilian beastfolk. The croc squeezed through the door, sniffing deeply and looking around as if still trying to pin down the exact source of the smell in the air. Vika likely would never have had a way of knowing who he was.

Rhix leaned down to inspect one of the cakes the baker had made.
"Whatcha got here?" he grumbled, pointing a clawed digit at the treat.

---

The Grand Hall
​

The Empress' introduction had been quite toned down from the usual, far more formal event structure among the Imperial nobility. This was, after all, primarily an event for groups that already knew each other well. For those from afar, the goal was to make them feel as though the Kaliti were at ease with their presence; elaborate heraldry was not necessary for such an atmosphere. They would know Medja by her bearing.

Mingling, instead, was to be the focus, and mingle Medja did. Minor dignitaries made their chatty presences known to the regent and she entertained them in turn; old allies, near and distant, arrived to catch up on current events; but by far what stirred Medja's heart the most was an all too familiar face making herself known.

"Sultana!" Medja breathed, elated to use her charge's official title now that she'd had such an opportunity to grow into it. The sorceress descended as she closed with Nymeasha, allowing her feet to touch the ground in the last few steps before she took the younger woman's hands in her own. "Nym, my darling, it has been far too long and I have missed you dearly."

Medja beamed as she looked upon the Sultana of Salitra, and she could not help but brim with pride. She did, however, subtly clock Nym's guards, but chose not to make mention of them. Her attentions were on the sincerity of the reunion, and she would not let distractions interfere for the moment.
"We simply must catch up, darling. I have heard tales of your escapades, but nothing compares to information from the source itself! Oh, and where is that suitor of yours? Skulking about, perhaps? Old habits and all that, I'm sure."

 

[Dar'aa]

Dar’aa’s small introduction was more than aptly rewarded by an acknowledging look from Medja, a slight sparkle visible in their eyes that sent a shiver down the spy’s normally composed body. The look was more than just pretty, given how composed and sure it was as well, as though the Regent knew everything there was to know. It was pretty damn badass. Some might call this dumb love, others an unrequited crush, but neither were the case. Not only did the female spy not believe she was sexy or smart enough to entice Medja given the company the Regent kept were all much more qualified, but she found her utter devotion a more pure feeling to attach herself to.

“Oh, you actually- no.” She’d say, shutting up. Dar’aa gave her a sweet smile and nodded, opting for a less formal tone. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Medja.” She’d say before turning around and grinning like a madman. The Empress knew her name, which was not rare among others in the corps, but still an achievement she was betting none of her friends could have guessed would become hers. In fact, even she couldn’t believe it given how early into her tenure as a spy she was.

“Shall we?” Dar’aa was excited but had good enough sense to recognize a rhetorical question, just turning towards the door and following behind her Highness. She walked down the great steps alongside their great leader, looking absentmindedly around as she planned a way to catch whoever was writing of her exploits out in the world. Not to do anything, of course, except maybe deliver a thank you. She snapped back to focus as soon as Medja began moving, all jitters gone.

Dar‘aa watched as the woman floated over and began excitedly speaking with Nym, or so that had been the name tossed around referring to the Sultana, and held back, now in a bit of self-imposed trouble. That particular interaction was one conversation she was probably not important enough to hang around for, but did that matter? No, likely not. She was tasked with a most important post, and the credibility of the higher-ups in the Sapphire Hands was somewhat at stake. She would not fail them tonight, no matter what.

If she did, she realized with a jolt, there would be no report necessary, given the Regent would see it all. As Dar’aa walked over to the two friends, she took a scroll from a canister by her waist, the one passed down by her family and her most powerful weapon. On one side were runes that messed with reality (in a very limited sense as of now), the other, paper. Y’know, just in case of emergency, of course. Suddenly remembering how to do that thing people called “relaxing”, she managed to slide into a facade of calmness before being greeted by the sight of guards.

She subtly assessed them as the Regent had, trying to take this job seriously, before realizing exactly whose guards they were. Waiting for a pause in speaking, she’d find her moment to sneak in: “Oh, pardon my rudeness, Sultana. Thank you for coming. I am an attendant to the Regent, Dar’aa. Would you two like a table or seats at the bar to more comfortably continue talking, or are you fine here?” All that while also executing a perfect bow at the beginning, Respectful and composed without being cold.

How had the woman who had recently been having an attack of nerves managed to preform so well? The truth was, she was only nervous when alone. She saved this side of herself for nobility, because anyone else she consorted with in the Hands would give her more than a smack on the wrist for behaving like her true self instead, for obvious reasons. Still, it WAS said that Nym was a friend of Medja and that indeed seemed to be the case, so that just meant the spy held even more respect for them. If anything, it made the ruse slightly easier to pull off.

Nym Medja

 

[Avalon Lorvil]

"Whatcha got here?"

Vika lifted her head to kit her brows at the croc, a nail pointing down at the display of sweet lemon pastries. She held up a finger, indicating she would be with them in a moment as she handed a mother the change for her purchased goods, her son carrying the bread and treats in a basket.

With a smile, she greeted the croc with her attention. "You mean the best candied lemons wrapped in the fluffiest pastry? Glazed with a sugared lemon curd, if that takes your interests. Three for the price of two."

"They are really the best lemon pastries in all of Annuakat!" Came the testimony of another customer, standing behind the crowd. Vika beamed, especially proud to receive such declaration from her loyal customers.

"Inspired by the regal Regent. A citrus meant to sour, but paired with sweetness, it surely delights the taste buds." Vika slipped on a cloth to cover her hand, reaching to the display and finding a pastry to offer to the croc. "Surely you will try one and tell me if it is not a delicacy."

 

[Nym]

Nym's eyes glimmered with a genuine warmth as she met Medja's gaze, and the contrast between their respective roles and backgrounds seemed to momentarily fade away, leaving behind the traces of a friendship that had endured.

She laughed under her breath as the woman addressed her with her title - the one she had insisted that she take. "Medja. I've missed you." she replied with a soft smile, returning the affectionate grip on her hands. "It has been too long.." she agreed.

Upon mention of 'escapades', Nym's shoulders lifted and fell in a gentle shrug. "I've weathered the storms, as any ruler must. But tale tellers have a tendency to exaggerate, I assure you," she added with a tight smile, her stomach clenching at the thought of what she might have heard..

'Oh, and where is that suitor of yours?'

Nym gave a knowing smile. Many of little voices in her ears did not approve of Nym's choice of partner. Settra was not of royal blood, nor was he wealthy. He was her guard, a warrior and assassin. He was whatever she needed him to be and she trusted him. "He does rather enjoy a good skulk." she mused.

Her gaze flickered toward the woman who introduced herself as Medja's attendant. She offered a smile, though it seemed to take a little more effort than that given freely to Medja, a wariness in her eyes as she surveyed her.

Nym was never comfortable with so many people around. She was rarely comfortable at all, these days, and yearned for her days in the shadow. "A quiet corner or alcove would suit me well. I don't wish to monopolize the Empress' time, however.." her brow quirked.

 

[Medja]

The Grand Hall​

"Indeed. Lansa has not left me wholly in the dark...I'm quite proud of what you've managed to accomplish, if the information I have is to be believed," Medja praised her old ward. She shrugged with a soft hum at Settra's absence. It was rather in his nature to stay out of sight, monastic assassin that he was, but it was rather a shame that he wasn't around for Medja to greet at the moment. Perhaps he'd show his face later.

"A quiet corner or alcove would suit me well. I don't wish to monopolize the Empress' time, however.."

"Certainly, darling! I owe you a great deal of time, at the very least," Medja replied, still beaming. She turned to her attendant, placing a hand daintily on the woman's shoulder. "Dar'aa, if you would kindly find us a suitable space? One of the side rooms, preferably."

The regent turned her emerald eyes back towards Nym.
"In the meantime, come, let us get something to drink. You know I would not host one of these without ensuring we were suitably stocked. I recently imported something new from Dornoch, they're calling it 'sake,' I believe. You simply must try it!"

---

The Streets of Annuakat​

If a crocodile could raise an eyebrow, Rhix would have been. He twisted his head towards the enthusiastic reviewer, then back at Vika.
"Inspired by Mistress Medja, huh? I'd think you were full of it, cuz I know what a lemon tastes like and it ain't good, but the line was so damn long that there must be somethin' to all this ruckus."

Rhix gingerly plucked the sample from Vika's palm between two clawed fingers and popped the treat into his gnarled maw. He smacked and munched on the thing for a few moments before his eyes went wide.
"Well I'll be damned. You weren't lyin'. The Mistress will wanna try these, I think."

 

[Avalon Lorvil]

Vika put one hand at her hip and leaned, throwing the croc a suspicious look. "You sound chummy with the Empress... or are you trying to worm your way into free lemon pastries?"

She was never one to pay attention to those that mingled in the social circles that her family did. Alheri went by her father's name, a name not known or remembered by those important enough. Her mother and her family were the largest producers of Kaliti perfume oils, and being a daughter of such success never appealed to her.

Not when her passion was of taste than that of the nose.

"Flattery works wonders, but when aligned with untruths..." She crossed her arms and looked up at the crocodile defiantly.

 

[Dar'aa]

Dar'aa jolted a bit at her Empress' hand touching her, simply surprised. That was rather personal for the gaps in their posts, she thought, hoping she wasn't as red as the contact had made her feel. "O-of course, Empress. I shall escort you two to one as soon as I find one to your specifications." she managed to say without much issue, slowly shifting back into the image of the formal stoic she somehow was able to come across as and maintain in front of literally anyone else, should the situation call for it. Anyway, if Dar'aa knew anything, it was that the more time the Sultana and Medja spent together, the better it was for the Empire. Undoubtedly, if the intelligence on the Sultana's progress and accomplishments within her domain were to be correct, she would be a incredibly useful ally. Before she left to find a room, she wandered into the dancing and found a spy amongst the party-goers.

One of her friends, actually, and only because he had explained the particulars of the sapphire ring he would be wearing on his hand. "Shain, the Empress and her friend the Sultana are going to the bar. They have tasked me with finding them a quiet space." She whispered as they danced together, all business. "Might you watch them and listen in? I would prefer to stay informed." she finished, waiting for a reply, whether verbal or action-oriented. "Someone has to watch them, I guess." he said with a wry, conspiratorial grin. Dar'aa returned the expression with a smile of her own, parting ways with him only after the execution of their secret handshake. She got a bit worried as soon as he was out of sight, but decided that was a bit unfair. Shain was a lovely guy, as well as more than decently good at his job. Anyway, he hadn't yet failed, so why worry about it? Instead, she left the ballroom to find a more suitable spot amid the several other rooms in the "celebration area" in the palace.

However, they also had the potential to be used for illegal purposes too sensitive for the main ballroom, which was a concern somewhere near the forefront of her mind. In the interest of rooting out any less-than-funny business, she may have walked a bit slow in her search, her ears pricking for any sound. Finally, she heard something, noting a few shouts of perhaps victory and some speech. Most of it was uninteresting blather from her viewpoint as someone looking for information, but that could not be said for the only line she had really managed to care about: "Let me make it up to you, why don't I show you what you wrote to me about hm?" Well, that could mean many things, but best to check anyway. Pulling out her scroll, she would write a few words: Self. I become extremely unmemorable and inconspicuous for two minutes. Sighing, she would roll up the scroll and place it back in it's canister, walking into the room. Invisibility was actually less useful in certain scenarios than just being utterly ignore-able, she found.

Usually invisibility was thwarted by noise and such, but her strategy meant that if someone took the time to look, the source was right there. She settled near the table the speaker was at and began feigning looking lost in thought. She grinned as none of the people at the table seemed to notice her entry even as her heels noisily clip-clopped by them. Now all there was left to do was wait. The woman seemed more than eager to share her information, after all.

Veena

 

[Veena]

The other players around the table glanced at one another. If Veena hadn't done her research on them before agreeing to meet and do business, she might have thought they were communicating mind to mind. Instead she knew that the little crime gang - The Sand Snakes as they styled themselves - communicated through their own unique hand speak which flashed occasionally beneath the table. In the end the Letai in the centre sighed and turned those feline eyes back to Veena.

"Fine," the cats lips pulled back from her teeth in a nasty sneer. "Show us."

Biscuit puffed his little chest up and splayed his wings in as much of a threatening manner as a tiny dragon could manage. He didn't take too kindly to people threatening his friends. Veena simply shuffled the cards and redealt. As she laid out the cards her hand brushed aside her jacket for a brief moment revealing the contents within: a vial of acidic green liquid. It was barely on show for a second before Veena continued her dealing as though nothing had happened.

"How do we know it's the real thing?" one of the men asked - one of the desert tribe elves by the looks of him. Veena glanced up with a quirked brow.

"Know anything else that colour in our world?"

Naga venom was hard to mistake.

 

[Dar'aa]

Immediately Dar'aa noticed something. There was sign language being exchanged between them, a unique style. That meant the djinn's clients or whatever knew eachother, and those gestures were very reminiscent of a language belonging to the...yes, the Sand Snakes. That was the name she had seen in files. Next, that the item revealed was of great value. Veena was correct, not that the spy knew that name, but yes, Naga venom was no small deal. Combine that with the unsavory flavor of clientele, and things become somewhat less than legal. She considered rushing in, but that wasn't very tactful, nor was it smart. Anyone important enough to get their hands on that as well as an invite to this celebration in the palace was certainly a character there would be consequences for crossing without a plan.

She called over a guard and explained what she thought the situation was, and luckily enough, a normal person could believe she was a Sapphire with how intently she spoke. The instructions relayed were simple enough: "Inform Medja of this. The Djinn in Antechamber B has a uniquely green substance, probably poison or venom, in a bottle that she is seemingly selling to some sandy, slithery crooks. My empress is smart enough to fill in the blanks." she explained, not even casting a glance in Veena's direction, even adding a little flitting laugh as though to pose as a simple flirt. The guard simply gave her a look of confusion and maybe a bit of horror as her facial expression shifted back into steely seriousness. Then, he left looking slightly shook, presumably to do what he was told. She got back to thinking as soon as he was out of sight, and decided that she would pretend to have no idea what was going on, a foolish patron just looking to play a game of cards.

Coming closer, she would loom just over the seated guests heads. "Can I join your game?" she asked, cheerful and air-headed for the sake of this task. Just then, her scroll warmed, which caused the spy to almost invisibly cringe, her brows furrowing for a moment before relaxing just as quickly. Usually, that warmth meant her punishment had appeared. A strange thought crossed her mind, unnatural as though placed in her head. Self: I am unable to be stealthy. This means I am extra noticeable, clumsy, and in the right circumstances suspicious. Well, at least she could still- wait, could she? "I love kittens." she said, barely able to stop herself from grimacing. She had meant to say "I hate kittens" but that was a lie. Guess that was that. She could no longer lie or connive verbally for two minutes either. Plus, the anonymity enchantment was gone.

Well, damn it. she thought, placing herself in a chair she had dragged from a nearby table. It was only two minutes, right? How bad could it really get?

Veena

 

[Nym]

Nym offered a grateful nod to Medja's acknowledgment of her efforts, though a flicker of tension remained in her features, a remnant of the perpetual vigilance so well engrained in her psyche.

'Lansa has not left me wholly in the dark..'

"I see.." she said, her smile tight. "Your praise means much, Medja," she replied, her voice soft but tinged with a hint of apprehension. "I've endeavored to serve Salitra to the best of my abilities.."

She followed Medja's lead, her gaze instinctively searching her surroundings, ever watchful for potential threats. She noted Dar'aa's quick exchange with a man amidst the crowd before catching the eye of one of her guards, silently conveying her expectations for their vigilance of the dangers that seemed to gravitate toward her as of late.

"Sake you say.. Perhaps one." her lips quirked. The more vigilant she could be and the fewer opportunities she could give anyone to poison her, the better.

 

[Medja]

The Grand Hall​

Medja smiled as she watched Dar'aa go, unfazed by her reaction to the regent's familiarity with her. The attendant flitted away, and within moments another had filed in to temporarily replace her. That girl was nothing if not thorough, a quality which was practically necessity in a Hand's line of work.

The regent returned her attention to the Sultana soon after. The girl's stiffness was plain to see, at least for someone as well versed in the social arts as Medja. One didn't make it through her number of centuries by being unobservant.
"You're on edge, darling. I understand, but you're with me now. You can relax, I promise," she assured her. Medja placed her hand on Nym's arm this time as she led the two of them towards the bar. "This should at least help to take the edge off, I should think. Bartender! The Dornochi import, if you would."

The barkeep noticed quickly that he was being flagged down by the regent empress and quickly moved to fulfill her request. In no time, the barkeep had opened a fresh bottle of the stuff and poured a glass for both women, in plain view. Medja glanced to the new Sapphire that had taken Dar'aa's place.

"Shain, would you kindly?" the regent held out her glass towards the Hand, and the man dipped his pinky finger into the liquid within before tasting it for his Empress. After a few seconds he nodded to Medja.

"It is clear, Mistress."

Medja's emerald eyes fell back to Nymeasha with a knowing smile.
"You see? Naught but the best for my precious guests."

All the while, the guard Dar'aa had sent made his way to relay the Sapphire's message to Medja.

---

The Streets of Annuakat​

The big croc stared fairly blankly at the baker, nonplussed. A clawed hand reached into his vestment, and in a moment he produced an emblem that Vika may or may not have recognized: a hand clutching an eye, hewn from vibrant green with silver accents.

"Ain't lyin'," he said with a shrug before tucking the emblem away again. "Don't need nothin' for free though. Mistress pays real good. Here."

Rhix dug rifled through his pocket until he came up with a sack of coins. He placed several too many on the counter, the pouch clearly having many more than that still hiding inside.
"I heard the big party's light on sweets. Could be a good deal for you."

 

[Avalon Lorvil]

Vika sucked in a breath and stared at the emblem before he put it away.

Oh.

Her brows lifted with surprise. "And what would your mistress like to see at this party?" She would need a couple of hours of baking the stock she had prepared earlier in the day, dusting them in fine sugar before even thinking how to plate them for such a grand celebratory party.

"I am afraid I am to close for the day, loyal customers." Vika need not yell, for each of her customers were witness to such an exchange. Not wanting to be in the way of depriving the Regent of sweets, they soon filed out of her shop.

Vika now regarded the croc with a wry smile.

"Now, are you having helpers come collect the sweets?" She inquired, not at all expecting to do anymore than simply catering the party with sweetened pastries.