Private Tales Lower-class Prosperity

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Tedesco Buscha

Tedesco Buscha

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"Hertstead?" he scoffed at his brother's attempt to make the situation into lemonade, "Sounds like a venereal disease."

Alfano was his younger brother, and one of much lower ambition than himself. He'd probably found the idea of an extended getaway to one of father's a real opporitunity to relax or whatever it was he did in his free time. However, their father had only afforded him the opportunity to travel with Tedesco, to make his exile more palpable, he was sure. Not even one witless brother to keep him company.

"You almost went toe to toe with father, I'm sure you'll be king of Hertstead in no time. Or whatever they have here." He was nothing, if not relentlessly positive.

With a dramatic flourish, Tedesco responded, "Of course. Make way for the pauper king on his throne of paper."

Alfano narrowed his eyes a bit, "You knew the risks you took."

Tedesco only offered a nod to the moment of clarity. It wasn't exactly easy for him to ever admit defeat. Defeat was merely a branding issue to be spun into a victory. In this case, it was hard to brand the situation in any other way, which had been by design.

At least he'd been allowed to take a carriage and would be received by Hertsteads' reputationally significant Arladi. Whether this Iseppa lived up to the reputation that she'd gained since taking the reigns of the city would yet to be seen. However, checking the ambition of a provincial ruler was more of a formality to make his exile more palatable. The interest in Iseppa was more personal. His father would never admit that he needed any real help from Tedesco at this point, and that left him with a little wiggle room.

Out in the middle of nowhere, out of reach of his father. It was possible Alfano was correct in some ways. There would be little hope of him supplanting the Arladi family's nearly two hundred year supremacy over this town, but perhaps he could help put some pressure on his dear old dad.

One of the servants announced that they would be arriving at his father's estates just outside of Hertstead shortly. There he would immediately need to wash the travel off of himself, get dressed and continue onward to Hertstead itself. He wasn't entirely sure what to expect of the city itself, he'd never personally been. Hopefully it'd be enough to entertain him while he was stuck in this low-brow nightmare.
 
The rats of the Reach took the crumbs they were thrown, she supposed begrudgingly. Alliria’s greatest families would not give them anything but. Not until they stood as equals, if such was even possible. Iseppa thought not. There would always be a divide between them, the merchants of Alliria and the merchants of the Reach. No matter how far she clawed up their lofty ladder, no matter how many titles she may claim, there was always a difference.

In the foyer of the Arladi manor, its mistress stood amidst the quiet coming and going of staff, a dark figure cut of maroon silk and black waves twisted and coiled at the nape of her neck in a hive of pear-topped pins and jasmine-scented oil. She glanced to the windows, wondering if her timing had been off before deciding it hadn’t. It was never off.

Somewhere on the outskirts of Hertstead, the Buscha carriage rolled onward down the wide beaten road that’d it’d turn from to reach their manor. A country home that she did not doubt they thought of as quaint compared to the luxury Alliria permitted. From beyond the idyllic rolling hills and listlessly bubbling rivers that cut through them, the dark city of Hertstead could be seen rising from the ground. The tallest spire tapered out sharply, a building of worship of some kind. No other tower rivaled its height, though there were a few that stood taller than most rooves. One, a dome of blue slate, would lead Tedesco to his host when the time came.

Farms would turn to hovels, and then to buildings built of sturdy wood and plater. Those gave way to stone and slate of the more impressive boroughs of the city, at the heart of which the Arladi estate could be found. Passing through heavy stone walls that had once housed a keep, Tedesco would find, instead, manicured gardens, an opulent drive situated around a fountain, and the manor itself.

The pink and orange fire of the sinking sun set a warm background, casting the building itself in shadows. The windows winked with the candles being lit within. Notably, on the end of the wing to the south, scaffolding stood like a skeleton around the stone façade, the linen covering parts of it snapping in the breeze.

When the time came, the majordomo greeted Tedesco with a deep bow and a deferential tone. He would lead him from the drive, up the steps, and through the heavy front doors. Iseppa had since gone from the hall, having misjudged the time despite her confidence otherwise. As she returned, her voice filled the space before she stepped from the shadow of the arch leading further into the bowels of the manor. “My apologies for keeping you waiting, Lord Tedesco.”

A polite distance was kept from him when Iseppa bent into a shallow curtsey.

“Come, you must be in want of a proper meal. It is a long journey and I do not doubt you are in need of something to fill your stomach.”
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The setting sun brought a warm glow to an otherwise dour mood within the carriage. If only the weather had seen fit to storm, such that it might drown out the insipid conversation that awaited with the falling sun. It did bring him a moment to think of strategy, and while he didn't have much in the way of options, he wanted to ensure that he quickly secured some favorability within Hertstead.

Loathe he was to admit it, the drive to the manor was quite nice. The building itself lacked any real charm or delicacy, but he didn't expect a minor provincial house to impress against the wealth of Allaria. He might have even found the manor charmingly quaint under other circumstance, but he found himself searching for any reason to dislike it. A slightly ajar tile or a mismatched color palate. Nothing stood out overly to him, but he had an excellent talent of finding molehills. There was no reason in general for him to begrudge their family, but he wanted a focus of his animosity towards his father, and unfortunately they were within striking distance.

In spite of his feelings, he would pull it together and make his best overtures of peace. It would be self sabotage to immediately become their enemy. That didn't mean he had to be happy about it, though.

The carriage door opened and he stepped out to the sight of the Arladi's majordomo. With a polite smile, he followed him towards the entrance of the manor. As he passed through the threshold into the greeting hall, it was quite empty. Instinctively, a white hot flash of disrespect washed over him.

"It appears the lady of the house has not yet arrived, she offers her sincerest apologies." The door clicked shut behind his apology, and he quelled his anger.

The small win of a grievance felt like a hollow victory, even as he savored its sweet taste in a curt reply, "Undoubtedly, she is a very busy lady."

"Indeed, my Lord."

It was barely a moment's delay before a voice gave a mirrored sentiment to the earlier apology. Iseppa Arladi was much what he expected, if a little more refined than he'd made her seem in his mind. She was polite, but not overly so. In other circumstance he'd probably be offended, but he needed to continue to remind himself that this was not the normal circumstance.

Tedesco allowed a slightly deeper than normal nod of his head in response to her curtsey.

"If it pleases you, Lady Iseppa. Although, I will admit that I am absolutely famished."

The staff had already begun leading them towards the dining hall even before his initial bit of small talk had finished. He followed in kind, and was not entirely sure where he should start with being the polite guest. In the past, he'd never played this exact type of role.

"I must say, your manor is quite lovely. You must recommend me to your designer, I'm afraid my father's manor might be in need of some renovations if I'm to stay here for long."

Although it was a lie, it was an easy one to make and it was sensible. He'd simply have to try to find some virtues of this gods forsaken place eventually, and then he'd be able to tell a truthful compliment. The two would cancel each other out, or at least something like that. Either way, the bit about his extended stay was what really mattered and would be the part that she noticed.
 
“Good,” was her reply, dropped from her lips with all of the simplicity of arrogance. “Let us see to that need, then.” It was a cultivated air of comfort, and it did not waver when she fell in beside Tedesco, the staff opening the doors ahead of them as they passed through the halls, toward the heart of the manor.

Rich wood and dark stone. Room after room. Hall after hall. A roaring hearth here, windows being closed against the nighttime chill there. A dusky mirror of Alliria’s shining, white splendor, the Arladi manor. If Tedesco was not careful, it might swallow him and drain from his bones the essence of that which it aspired to be.

“You are kind, my Lord. I will send along the information to your father’s manor on the morrow.” Petty compliments and petty thanks. The lady’s pride swelled all the same. “It has been some years since I have been there, but I remember it being a stately place. It will be easy work to restore it.” Renovations and designers were of no interest to her then, though.

As they passed through their final set of doors, they found themselves finally in the dining hall. It was spacious, the hearth at the wall across from them already alive with a fire tall enough to engulf the both of them. Awash in the warm glow of candelabra and that same hearth, the scene could be considered inviting. A feast awaited, spread across the long table atop silvered plates that contrasted well the deep green cloth that ran the length. The chairs had been removed save two, and instead of having them placed at either head of the table as was common, they were intimately placed on either side of one end. A delicate hand waved them on, Iseppa’s palm tilted upward as if to offer free reign of the room to her guest.

Only after Tedesco had chosen his seat did Iseppa also sit. Across from him, she took the time to arrange her skirts just so, her attention diverted as their wine was filled and their settings readied for food. Once finished, she plucked her goblet from the table and trained her gaze on the man across from her, his head wreathed in orange and the shadows sharpening his features. “How long is it you intend to stay?” “If” he had said earlier. “If I’m to stay here for long.” He had not yet decided. Or he had and the decision had been not very long at all.

The food the staff placed upon Iseppa’s plate was left untouched for the moment. Her guest would eat first.
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"I'd appreciate their input very much, thank you."

They were lead through the manor into a stately dining hall that had all the amenities that one might expect from such a provincial cities' leader. The food that was laid out on the table looked well prepared, though, and he was quite famished from his time on the road. He selected his seat with little decorum, placed directly in front of the hearth itself. The shadows played off of Iseppa's face, as he picked up his own goblet and took a drink. Hertstead did have a decent vintage, and house the selection of house Arladi was no exception.

He nodded to her inquiry. "Not long, I would hope. However, the circumstances are out of my control at this moment. It may be that I am left here until my father withers away."

He assumed that she had some information on the situation in Allaria, and at least some inkling of what had transpired to strand him in this doldrum. Even though he'd just arrived, he found himself incredibly bored at the prospect of spending years stuck in pasture land. Iseppa did seem the type of person to make these little isolations he'd found himself in more interesting.

One dish upon the table was a small plucked bird, an Ortolan, he believed that they were called. Served as a the whole bird, they were meant to be eaten whole. Some found the process distasteful, but it was a bold choice to serve it to him. Bold choices had always been the kind that Tedesco had come to appreciate. He used the large serving spoon placed near it to scoop one up, as he half stood to reach the dish.

"I'm curious, Iseppa. Does my staying here present to you an opporitunity or a threat?" Small talk was all good and well, but he did enjoy getting to the meat of a discussion. He hadn't come to this town because of a coy disposition. "I apologize if I'm being blunt, but personally, I don't wish for this exile to extend for a long time, and I believe that we could be in a unique position to help each other out."
 
The honesty Tedesco employed regarding the circumstances of his situation were disarming. Iseppa, after a brief pause, offered an empathetic smile to her guest. As he assumed, she was vaguely aware of the situation in Alliria. Gossip made its way from the city on many lips. There were pretenses of ignorance to uphold, however. Even if they both knew otherwise, the image was important, and everywhere, even at the center of her own estate, the walls had ears. It was, in her opinion, better to be underestimated than show your hand.

“That is unfortunate.”

There would be no further elaboration as to what exactly was unfortunate. There needn’t be, either, as the sound of silverware tinkling against porcelain and plate joined the crackling of the fire. Hovering about the table were staff who might have served Tedesco if he’d made a show of his dissatisfaction, but he did not, and so they ate as the common folk might, choosing their own portions.

“I’m curious, Iseppa…” his voice cut through the atmosphere, drawing her attention, which had been purposefully turned to her own plate. The question posed was blunt, as was his admittance that he did not wish to stay in exile, in Hertstead for long. It was bold, too. She should expect nothing less of a merchant lord, she reminded herself as she wet her lips with more wine.

“There is no need to apologize. The honesty is refreshing, my Lord. And to return it in kind: your presence here presents only opportunity.”

Setting her wine down, she regarded Tedesco with a soft, measured gaze. What machinations hid beneath her smile were kept locked away, and any harm the Buscha might do to her or her town, would go unmentioned. Like one never ran from a predator lest they might invite a chase, she would not give him the chance to know she was prey.

Drawing in a long, even breath through her nose, her delicate brows knit again more for show than any real concern or confusion. The lilt of her head, too, was theatre.

“I admit, too, that I am curious. How is it you propose I might help you?”
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