A bit of a timeline layout here: Several weeks ago I had my big debut announcement, which was also an egg-race tournament, to announce to the community that I'm here and I'm making moves, and I'm doing it all on my own terms and I'm not going to be conforming to expectations. And then a few weeks later I quietly attended a Grennick-hosted charity grift to soften my message and show myself willing to work with others. And last weekend, Trazom and I attended the symphony's program announcement, which had a lot less impact as a declaration of intent but did demonstrate that I've formed connections with major figures in society events. And at that party I was met by Crichard Pentle, where we began the first steps of a larger dance.
Several of my statement decisions lately have been about outreach and liaising with the power structures that normally would not associate with a Harigold princess. So this week I need to consolidate my own ties to the traditional allies. Breaking bread with Grennick and Aumerje and Ebonder and Duskare is great for building my connections outward, but if I do that by renouncing my ties to Greifir and Pinking and the associated lesser houses, Skerlat, Tarratan, Kadot... well, then I'm not bringing my role as Princess of Harigold, I would only be representing myself.
It is a much bigger deal if I'm offering a door into Meadowtam than if I'm offering my personal support, after all. I lose a ton of leverage if I get recognized as an independent operator, renegade from Harigold.
This is a feast-day for three different saints, ones that are particularly important to House Greifir. So to that end I made sure that I'm wearing a religious icon as a pendant, made of iron with rubies inset, as a nod to the Greifir house colors of red-and-gray. The pendant necklace symbolizes that they are close to my heart. For earrings, white gold and pink diamond, the colors of House Pinking, to show they have my ears. There's a whole language for this stuff.
The dress is something I could only ever wear in Hearstwhile, as it uses my house colors in alternating diagonal stripes. It is only really acceptable here because Hearstwhile has never developed candy canes, barber poles, or starlight mints. To my eyes I look a little ridiculous, but nobody else looks twice. I've used a nice little hydrangea perfume, I don't mind if that becomes my hallmark.
The cathedral that House Greifir has rented out for this event is not one I've been to before, so I took a carriage rather than teleporting. The event was in Cliffside, so the carriage rode to one of the switchback tunnels of Stonewall. Unfortunately the Stonewall of this setting is much less impactful than the original- it's literally just the stone walls of the Skyside and all the tunnels that honeycomb it.
Since the city of Hearstcliff is a major access of shipping and cargo from the north to south and vice-versa, there are a lot of wagons, carts, sleds, caravans, coaches, hansoms, and horses that come through. And the connection from Skyside to Cliffside and back is the maze of ramps and shafts and passages through Stonewall. It's one of the most important routes in the kingdom for commerce, industry and tourism.
But traveling in it is mostly a matter of sitting in a carriage and staring out the windows at featureless stone walls that seem to go on and on forever. They have to have been carved with magic, they're far too regular to be naturally-formed, but you'll rarely find tool marks or any signs of handwork on those bulkheads. Even volcanic bores would not be this regular, and certainly no living creature made that with natural means.
The majority of Hearstcliff natives just ignore them. Or, assume that some ancestors of the current residents made those tunnels.
But if ancient humans made those tunnels, why so steep? It's almost a ten-degree grade there. And the floor of those tunnels is clearly an afterthought, made from different stone, with distance markers and periodic landings to stand level for beasts or people that needed a break. Like almost everything else, it all came back to the Fissuring. But most people living here did not study history.
Entering the tunnels was leaving the bright sunny world of Skyside, recently illuminated by yours truly, and entering a stygian underworld. Emerging from the tunnels into Cliffside felt like splitting the difference: stars overhead, lanterns and candles and fires and all the signs of civilization. Daytime to midnight to twilight.
It took quite a while to travel those tunnels to the surface. And once we were at the neighborhood, the carriage circled the block three times. I spent that time rehearsing. I really wanted to make a good impression here. The Greifir have a reputation for being stoic, humorless, and hard to impress. That is not universal, people's personalities are more individual than their House allegiance, but it does give me something to consider.
As it turned out, I needn't have worried. I should have figured out for myself, because I already knew a little of the guest list, and a few people who were definitely going to be there: the cousins.
The carriage stopped by the curb between two lamp-posts, and footmen for the event opened the door and offered me a hand down. The driver had been paid in advance so he could pull away smoothly without an awkward amount of haggling and exchange of coins there at the doorstep. I held my back straight, shoulders square, and glided down the walkway to the front door. I was fashionably late, since a cathedral does not have the same drawing-room architecture of most event spaces or manor houses. There's just not a layout for taking guests in, sorting them in a side room, and then bringing them into the main space one at a time with a big procession of ceremony. Cathedrals have a small narthex that adjoins straight from door to nave, and that's it.
So the solution here is just to have the guests arrive in the order they are to be announced. When we were circling the block, there were hand signs back and forth from my driver to the footmen, letting him know when to let me off.
Now, unless Nathan or a member of the royals drops in, I should be the very last guest. Since Nathan doesn't have a pass from the campus and none of the Freckentop royals has any reason to attend a Greifir-hosted event, that should be that. I stepped up the porch, presented my invitation to the main herald, just as a formality. He knew me by sight. Once word got around that the Harigold princess was attending society in Hearstcliff, pretty much every announcer and banner-hanger in the city familiarized themselves with my- admittedly recognizable- appearance.
I rose to the narthex, and paused at the portal to the nave. The door herald handed my card off to the crier, who boomed out my titles with aplomb.
"Now introducing: Lady Natalie Francine Daria Harigold esquire, Princess of Meadowtam Duchy, Earl of Falloweast, Countess of Caintwell, Countess of Raintall, Protector of Zhudten, Dame of the Realm, twenty-sixth heir for the throne of Hearstwhile of Freckentop House."
And the room bowed to me, and I curtseyed back, and then I proceeded to the receiving line. We had the "how do you do"s and the "very well thank you"s, the "thank you for the invitation"s and the "so glad you could make it"s. The hosts here were central-echelon Greifir nobility, second-through-ninth heirs of the House's ducal throne, followed by a smattering of Pinking title-holders and then my cousins. We had to do the formulaic etiquette thing for the Greifir heirs, and as always things got a little eccentric with the Pinking people- some cryptic looks and winks but nothing I could ever quite call them out on.
It was a relief to get to the end of the line, where I could relax a little more. "Hello, Petty," I said to my tall, strapping cousin. She was dressed quite formally, perhaps a little too stiffly for the occasion. "Bruce, Wendy, good to see you both," I said, smiling to the brother-sister combo. He was still leaning on his cane and holding up a smirk, she was smiling and blinking a little too often.
"Cousin," Petty said, with a curtsey. "I hope you brought an appetite, they are taking this feast-day thing seriously."
"Princess," Bruce said, with an ironic nod of his head. "Of course we've lived in agony without you these past six weeks."
"Hello!" Wendy said, and dipped a curtsey. "He's being rude about it, but it is good to see you again." And then she smacked Bruce with a backhand to his bicep.
"Now introducing: Lord Nathan Astoniel Renault Harigold, Crown Prince of Meadowtam Duchy, Earl of Lampset, Count of Skydown, Count of Brillentow, Protector of Ptashnim, Knight of the Realm, twenty-fifth heir for the throne of Hearstwhile of Freckentop House. And, introducing: Princess Lachel Thoebe Lonica Freckentop, fifth heir for the throne of Hearstwhile of Freckentop House."
I was glaring daggers back at the door as my brother posed there, with his arm intertwined with Princess Lachel. They were both smiling genially and waving to the crowd, and then with a smooth step they headed for the receiving line.
Stealing my thunder.
Wendy's hand fell on my forearm, and she gave it a squeeze. "Um, cousin? Do you need a glass of something?..." That was her polite way of mentioning to me that I'm at a party and I should not be getting ready to telekinetically hurl a hundred knives at any of the other guests. I let her lead me away from the receiving line to the refreshment table, and she looked so mousy and meek that I took pity and relaxed my face, put away my murder-mood and gave her a weak attempt at a smile.
"Sorry about that Wendy, I'm feeling more myself now."
She leaned in close, still nervous. "What happened? That's your brother, right?"
I practiced a genial smile. I felt like it was showing too many teeth. "Yes it is. And he's supposed to be too busy to come out to a party like this right now," I said. My voice sounded tight and strained.
Most of the room was staring at my brother and the royal princess. This was almost entirely a Development Faction event, with a handful of Brunblings because Greifir is close to luring them away from the Dominionist faction, a couple representatives of each of the Independent faction to show that we're still looking to them as allies, and the cadet houses that accompany: Skerlat, Tarratan. And after that is specifically-invited guests chosen by the Greifir hosts for their attendance at this event, who seemed to be from the Braige, Kadot, and Goodskill houses.
No Nhullit, no Kinghand, no Grennick. No Duskare, no Skyback, no Eyellon, and no cadet houses from them. And certainly no Freckentops.
These were not oversights! The hosts of this party did not invite a single second-cousin-to-a-minor-
And this guy invites the fifth heir to the party without a second thought.
I got two small glasses of apple cider from the refreshment table and carried them back to the receiving line, which was now breaking up since the party was now all officially introduced. If anyone came in after a royal, they were just straight-up late, and not even fashionable.
I went to the head of the line, the senior-most Greifir heirs, and found the one that looked like they were having the most trouble repressing their seething. It was the oldest son of Duke Greifir, who looked like he really wanted to march down and take Nathan to task in front of everyone. His siblings were holding him back, and I swooped in from the side.
"Cider?" I prompted, holding the cup out. "The good thing about apples is they never fall far from the tree."
He turned, and it took a minute for my words to wrestle in past whatever angry thoughts were barging back and forth in there. He accepted the glass, and I am pretty sure that his deeply-trained respect for decorum was restraining him a lot more than consideration for my brother. He looked down at the apple cider, then back at me. "Well put," he said, smoothing his brow and his breathing. "Apples are reliable, aren't they?"
"Quite. Milord, would you be so good as to lead me to the votive shrine? I need to light candles for the dead."
I figured that tapping directly into the rituals of worship would calm him more than anything else, and he immediately drew somber and sober, and took my arm to lead me through the party to the transept altar and the votive shelves that flanked it. "These for remembrance," he said, as we approached. "The other transept is for prayers of hope." The main nave had been re-set for the feasting dinner, which was actually a form of religious observance and so technically wasn't a sacrilege to throw a society ball in the middle of a church. We moved past knots and clusters of guests, plus-ones, hangers-on, staff members and clergy who were mostly engaged in hushed, rapid whispering conversations. I saw a lot of glances and from them I surmised that the big news was the princess, and for once that was not me.
It's weird sometimes to be a princess but not the princess.
The Greifir heir and I paid alms for votive candles, and lit them from the altar taper before setting them to the shrine. We stood in companionable silence for a minute, composing our prayers for the dead, and he straightened a second after I did. He seemed more composed now, back in his sanctuary. He glanced at the candle then back to me. "Those dead of the blight?" he asked.
"You give me more credit as a humanitarian and populist," I said, my voice lower now. "It's the fire and Harigold Manor. It always is. I know I should commend prayers for the souls of all those dead in my homeland, but the only remembrance that does not feel insincere is my remembrance of those who died in my home because I could not save everyone."
His breath caught. I don't even remember this guy's name, I went through him and his siblings all in a rush. He's just Lord Greifir until I leave here. But he stared at my candle, and thought about my words. He said, "My aunt the duchess says that we honor the dead with deeds, not memories, and to save the living is to serve the dead."
Of course a Greifir would say something like that.
I turned and gave him a smile. "She sounds remarkable. And you sound as though you miss her."
"I miss them all," he said, sounding haunted.
The Greifir family is extensive and expansive, for a reason. The family is under a curse, the sitting duke or duchess always begins to sicken as soon as they take the office. The illness can be staved for a while by healers, but never alleviated or stopped. They used to think this was a curse that could be beaten- they changed castles, got rid of thrones, fired viziers, and had new crowns made. The curse never affects any but the current head of the family, and it affects them no matter where they are or what they do. The family does what it can, embracing healers, and training all their heirs to be pinnacles of fitness and health so they may last as long as possible. They bring a great many children and they keep meticulous records of genealogy. Their house is highly involved in the church, and in warfare, making them associated with paladins, templars and holy warriors. But also with perpetual grieving.
"Maybe we should try the other transept now," I said quietly.
He led me down the halls to the other altar, and we left candles there as prayers of hope for the future. He probably prayed for the salvation of lives. I prayed that my brother would stop being a pain in the ass.
Most of the guests were drifting towards the feasting tables, four long trestles running the length of the nave. I did not know anyone here well enough to call by name, except Nathan and Princess Lachel, but I was not going to go near that landmine. The princess at least looked abashed at the stir her arrival had caused, and was keenly aware of the stares and whispers, and the looming aura of you don't belong that the whole room was sending her way. Nathan appeared to be either entirely oblivious to this, or entirely heedless.
Protocol would demand that the two of them take the head and foot of the northmost table, as they were the two highest-stationed persons here. After that, the rest of the stations would descend. I would take the head of the second table, and the various Greifir heirs would go from there, before they start filling in the right-hand side of the topmost table. Instead, Lachel had taken the head of the first table and Nathan sat right at her right hand, which botched up the whole progression from there. He seemed cheerfully unaware of this breach.
But to make up for that I sat at the foot of the first table, and every other ducal heir took the end-stations of each table after that. The youngest Greifir heir sat right at Nathan's right hand, since he was in her spot, and after that the earls and counts filled in, then the near-heirs of earls and counts, and so on. My end of the table had a pair of barons flanking me, before the progression wrapped around and worked back up towards the princess. My cousins, Petty, Bruce and Wendy, were over at the second table, the more distant relations before the merchant houses and tradespeople at the southernmost table.
And on a signal, we were all seated, and the party could begin.