In the Loch Bien castle great hall, a table has been laid with strong, warm drinks, wines, foods that can be eaten quickly and without utensils. No one seems to be touching any of the food; most have a servant near at hand to test the ale and wine before they drink. Dima may reasonably have hired someone or taken on one of the castle's servants to do this, unless he has a spell that tests for poison.
When not active, the servants line the walls, some of them talking, some of them staring straight ahead, depending on where they hail from.
Music plays, dour somehow despite the instruments' lightness. The windows allow in light enough that candles needn't be lit, but the entire castle seems to be built for warmth in the bitterly cold winters.
At the "head" of the room, two thrones are positioned side by side; an older man occupies one. He has a body that speaks of recent illness: loose skin suggesting a loss of weight, thinning hair, a slight tremor when he gestures. Beside him stands a man around thirty years of age, well-built and healthy, with brown hair combed neatly. He smiles dazzlingly at anyone who approaches and steps forward to greet them. At his side is a golden broadsword in an elaborate scabbard.
The other throne is unoccupied.
[q: Does Dima recognize the younger man, or would he have cause to surmise who he is (which is to say mostly would he likely be a son or whatnot)? a: He doesn't recognize the younger man, but given the way he seems particularly familiar with the man on the throne - whom Dima can surmise is Alfrig - this would be either a son or the much-lauded champion.
q: is there a particular mode of greeting that would be used in a courtly loch bien situation? i assume Dima would know slash would have learned on finding out he'd be coming here a: Aside from bowing to the lord, there's a curious kind of informality in Loch Bien that one might associate with Scandinavian or Scottish cultures - or rather, whatever the "rules" are, Dima probably doesn't grok them and behaves with formality one associates with Morovsk culture. Everyone here is a little more rough, more survivalist, and might seem crude to Dima and others from Morovsk.
some further qs— q: is anyone else from morovsk present? a: There are a few individuals from Morovsk whom he knew would be in attendance, but fewer than expected.
q: is anyone dima would recognize from mysos present? a: There's no one he recognizes from Mysos.
q: is the baron of riversdown present? a: The baron of Riversdown is not present.
q: how familiar would dima be with lord alfrig, or tbh with anyone present? a: Dima has never met Alfrig, though he's familiar with, either personally or by reputation, maybe thirty to forty percent of the people here.
q: has dima been told of any particular mm agenda for this informal meeting, or is there one he might be likely to expect/suspect? a: Dima would know this kind of gathering is the equivalent of a modern icebreaker.]] <.>
Before leaving the inn, Dmitri prepared himself by washing and by changing into more strictly formal attire. He asked Liviana to follow wherever Faolan and the thieves might go, keeping an eye on them, and asked that she find him if they should run into any dire trouble.
He would yes have hired a servant to test whatever he might drink; either would have done a little looking into it upon arrival in the city, or would have arranged for something in advance of reaching Di Loch Bien.
He absolutely gave Faolan a cheek kiss - and, if Fae permitted, a kiss-kiss - before departing.
[note: Faolan thoroughly enjoyed a kiss-kiss thank you.
A very nice boost for Dima, who did not particularly want to attend this event, though he recognizes both its necessity and hopes for some use in it.]
Once in the hall, he sends the hired servant to remain at the room's outskirts, but within view. He notes the relative absence of others from Morovsk. Offers subtle nods to a few of the nobles he recognizes, and though he plans on checking in with the others from Morovsk, he'll begin by approaching the man he takes to be Alfrig, and whoever the man with that godsdamned overenthusiastic smile might be.
If/when he is able to approach, if he isn't introduced by anyone else, Dima will bow to Alfrig and introduced himself as Lord Dmitri Aubric Voronin of Morovskgorod, and say that it is a pleasure to at last witness Di Loch Bien for himself.
<.>
He doesn't get close enough. About ten feet from Alfrig, a tall, middle-aged man with a polite smile steps into his path and, with a voice to match his expression, says, "Lord Alfrig offers his deepest apologies, but while he is well enough to attend, his constitution prohibits him from conversing with his guests."
By the sound of the man's voice, accent, and formality, he isn't from Loch Bien, though he dresses in similar fashion and wears a badge marking him as an advisor to the court.
Before Dmitri can introduce himself, the advisor bows with a hand pressed to his chest and continues, "But how may I be of service, Lord Voronin?"
<.>
Dmitri isn't pleased by this intervention; he also takes it in stride, offering no shift in mien and letting his eyes rest on this advisor with calm circumspection. After the man has spoken, Dima looks toward Alfrig, then back to the advisor with a minor nod.
"Convey my regards to Lord Alfrig, if you would, as well as my appreciation for his attendance in the face of adverse circumstances. Illness befalls us one and all, and cares little for its timing."
He cants his head slightly at the stranger. "Forgive me; you recognize me, and yet I cannot offer the same recognition. May I have your name?"
[q: is Dima able to place the man's possible origin based on voice/accent/formality? INV: 14
a: Dima can't say for certain, but it seems to him that the man's accent and manners are reminiscent of the nobility that once ruled Striker's Bay. If so, it would make sense that he's here, as he might have been a transplant after the downfall of the Rosewall family.
It would also make sense that his accent would be neither here nor there, as this was a good fifteen years ago; he's had time to adapt to Loch Bien society and adopt some mannerisms.]
<.>
The advisor's smile turns crooked, genuinely - and amiably - amused. "Forgive me. It seems I've lost the habit of self-introduction. I am Anicetus Spence, First-" He abruptly stops, his eyes flickering to some point above Dima's head, then clears his throat and fixes his smile more firmly - and far less warm. "Second. Advisor to his Lordship."
As if to move past his mistake, he continues, "As for recognition: it is my duty, after all, to know the names and faces of all in attendance. However, I believe we met - oh, it must have been nearly fifteen years ago, at your sister's first wedding. I was part of Emissary Merrow's assemblage. Oh, I suppose that wasn't a particularly cheerful affair for anyone involved; I don't expect you to remember me."
As he speaks, Anicetus has gently placed a hand on Dima's arm and ushered him away from Alfrig. "But nevermind. She is most happy now with her new bride, I understand, so why speak of such distant unpleasantness? Tell me, how are you finding Loch Bien?"
[q: would dima recognize the name or surname at all? or recall anything about merrow? HIST, 16
a: Dima is beginning to recall several things: Emissary Merrow was the high elf ambassador sent to Morovsk for his sister's wedding on behalf of the Rosewalls, who were in the midst of political turmoil at the time. He may faaaaintly recall a much younger Anicetus.
He also recalls that it was around the time of his sister's wedding that Striker's Bay fell and the Rosewalls were all rumored to have been brutally assassinated.]
<.>
The pieces do in fact fall into place, the image of this man returning in dim but placeable form. Dima doesn't protest Spence's hand, or the movement away. He keeps his eyes on the man, while keeping peripheral note of any movements, any individuals passing nearby.
That fucking wedding, though. (And the gall to speak of it this way. A reference noted, and to be kept in mind.)
"As I understand, it was as cheerful as any such ceremony might be. Nor should any situation's gaiety form a barrier to memory. I do recall your face now, however distantly; and I am pleased to see you once more well-established." A pause as he glances over Spence's expression. "There has been some recent shuffling of the ranks, then?"
And. "Regrettably, I have had little time to experience the city. Duties rise ever-eternal, hm? I hope to see more for myself soon enough."
<.>
Anicetus blinks, seemingly perplexed by the retort about the Voronin wedding, but for the moment lets it pass. He glances toward Alfrig's throne and smiles with polite wryness. "Ah - well. Duties rise ever-eternal, but not favor. I'm certain my replacement will fulfill his obligations to all our highest expectations, hm?"
And, seeming to dismiss his own demotion, he circles back to, "Forgive me, Lord Voronin, but I seem to have caused insult where none was intended. When I spoke of unpleasantness - I would never deign to make assumptions about your sister's wedding. Her happiness now would, of course, be in contrast to the sorrow of widowhood, which - forgive me for mentioning the matter, but the death of a spouse is tumultuous at best."
He gestures, waving one hand delicately to dismiss that particular subject. "No, I mean the loss of the Rosewalls. It was unpleasant to attempt to return home from such gaiety, as you describe it, to find there was no home waiting."
The same hand presses to his chest. "Truly, I intended no insinuation or discourtesy."
<.>
Dima isn't particularly inclined to accept Spence's explanation, though he nods, offers the appearance of earnest, if restrained, appreciation. "Then I ask your forgiveness in kind; it is a regrettable habit, to anticipate insinuation where no such shadow exists.
"Regrettable, as well, to permit my misconceptions to blind me from acknowledgment of your substantial loss. Of course that would have been harrowing. It must be a fraught subject, still. Well. Let it never be said that any of us among the nobility are given to compassion." He exhales, a sound that might be touched with laughter, might almost suggest regret.
"On which note, I'm afraid I must ask the name of this newly made Advisor. It seems much has changed since last I heard word of Di Loch Bien."
<.>
Anicetus graciously nods as if to say, Think nothing of it, then seems to grow discomfited by the mention of the new First Advisor. "Ah. That would be Sir Caddick Lathom."
With tension at the corners of his eyes, he glances toward Alfrig and gestures. "The gentleman beside his Lordship has more renown as his Champion - the guest of honor at the Centennial masquerade."
He folds his hands behind his back, his eyes lingering on the pair. "It's no fault to yourself that you were unaware of the changing of the guard, as it were. It was rather recent."
Cutting a glance at Dima, Anicetus breathes a laugh that seems chagrined and amused. "This morning, as a matter of fact."
[q: has dima heard anything of caddick lathom beyond being alfrig's champ? INS: 12 a: Dima has heard startlingly little about Caddick.]
<.>
A thing about Dmitri Aubric 'Fuck Off With Your Nonsense' Voronin is that sometimes he just does not. Pay particular attention to certain strains of rumor. Or official business that he takes as 'not his problem' irritants. So the revelation of Alfrig's Champion is a surprise; he knows nothing of the man, sees little to the man (sees that godsdamned smile, and Dima has never put much trust in anyone who smiles so much) (he was fucking right about Wythall, after all!), and lets his expression turn briefly bemused - brow slightly furrowed - as he glances toward Lathom.
"Champion and Advisor both— One might consider him fates-blessed." Or a man who signed his name to the right place at the right time. "As I understand, the confluence of such responsibilities is rare, as is the individual who might bear both." Dmitri's tone - casually observant - might speak anything from surprise to faint esteem to subtle disbelief. He turns his eyes toward Lathom - and, briefly, Alfrig - then back toward Anicetus as he adds, "Is Lathom indisposed, as well, or simply disinclined to mingle among guests?"
<.>
Anicetus only hums a response to the comment regarding Lathom's blessings. His smile doesn't waver and his eyes don't leave the pair, but it's clear his attention is on Dmitri.
The final question seems to draw genuine amusement from him, but he schools himself and draws one hand forward, the other remaining behind his back. He brushes at something on his robes that might be lint. "My Lord, as his Lordship's Champion, Sir Caddick is always indisposed."
There's a pause following this statement before he - apparently - clarifies, "His duties to Lord Alfrig are chiefest among his concerns. You'll rarely see him leave his Lordship's side, save to ensure no one approaches and overtaxes him with conversation."
<.>
"Such devotion is to be admired." Dima's tone suggests - lightly, but not indiscernibly - that he might not subscribe to this view. Then again, Dmitri has rarely tolerated the presence of advisors for longer than an hour or two, and has counted even the most ostensibly trustworthy to be questionable. "Your Lord has found fortune in him, it seems."
Fortune that - clearly - has done little for Alfrig's health.
The whole arrangement is not *not* suspect, though Dima's expression has regained its cool neutrality, and his focus now keeps fixed on Anicetus. He bows his head slightly. "Advisor, you have my appreciation for your insights, and I suspect Lord Alfrig finds fortune in you, as well.
"If I may trouble you for one further request: Newcomer to Di Loch Bien that I am, is there any location within the city that I simply must visit before my departure?"
<.>
Anicetus again bows, then pauses a moment to consider the question - and why Dmitri might be asking. When he arrives at no particular conclusion, he counters, "That depends on your interests. If you long for the company of your fellow nobles, the gardens in the Cloud District are tranquil, and the Eagle's Crest is the finest dining a tavern can afford."
He seems to be aware that this might not be the answer Dima is seeking, so he goes on, "Tomorrow is a market day outside the castle grounds; a bit of the 'local flavor' for you. An academic such as yourself - I do recall correctly, I'm certain - would enjoy the lyceum and library. You'll find them west of here. They are the only other towers in Loch Bien, so you can't miss them."
Whether by design or accident, he doesn't mention the romantic view from the cliff overlooks - or the beaches.
<.>
In fact, Dmitri had*been thinking that he would rather soak his right hand in acid than seek out the company of his 'fellow nobles.' And while he hadn't necessarily been seeking any particular answer - while this may have been more a question for the sake of asking a nearly neutral question - he does appreciate the rest of Anicetus's suggestions. (He also, knowing nothing of the cliffs, can find no cause for feeling slighted by their noninclusion.)
He seems to consider these options, and - for the first time - affords Spence the trace of a smile. "Those will do nicely."
Now Dmitri offers the hint of a bow. "If you'll excuse me, I have conversations to keep. Your introduction has been invaluable, Advisor— And you may believe that I will not forget your face again."
If Anicetus makes no move to stall him, Dima will scan the room for others from Morovsk, and move to speak with whoever among them - a single delegate, or preferably a small cluster - is unengaged with others.
no subject
When not active, the servants line the walls, some of them talking, some of them staring straight ahead, depending on where they hail from.
Music plays, dour somehow despite the instruments' lightness. The windows allow in light enough that candles needn't be lit, but the entire castle seems to be built for warmth in the bitterly cold winters.
At the "head" of the room, two thrones are positioned side by side; an older man occupies one. He has a body that speaks of recent illness: loose skin suggesting a loss of weight, thinning hair, a slight tremor when he gestures. Beside him stands a man around thirty years of age, well-built and healthy, with brown hair combed neatly. He smiles dazzlingly at anyone who approaches and steps forward to greet them. At his side is a golden broadsword in an elaborate scabbard.
The other throne is unoccupied.
[q: Does Dima recognize the younger man, or would he have cause to surmise who he is (which is to say mostly would he likely be a son or whatnot)?
a: He doesn't recognize the younger man, but given the way he seems particularly familiar with the man on the throne - whom Dima can surmise is Alfrig - this would be either a son or the much-lauded champion.
q: is there a particular mode of greeting that would be used in a courtly loch bien situation? i assume Dima would know slash would have learned on finding out he'd be coming here
a: Aside from bowing to the lord, there's a curious kind of informality in Loch Bien that one might associate with Scandinavian or Scottish cultures - or rather, whatever the "rules" are, Dima probably doesn't grok them and behaves with formality one associates with Morovsk culture. Everyone here is a little more rough, more survivalist, and might seem crude to Dima and others from Morovsk.
some further qs—
q: is anyone else from morovsk present?
a: There are a few individuals from Morovsk whom he knew would be in attendance, but fewer than expected.
q: is anyone dima would recognize from mysos present?
a: There's no one he recognizes from Mysos.
q: is the baron of riversdown present?
a: The baron of Riversdown is not present.
q: how familiar would dima be with lord alfrig, or tbh with anyone present?
a: Dima has never met Alfrig, though he's familiar with, either personally or by reputation, maybe thirty to forty percent of the people here.
q: has dima been told of any particular mm agenda for this informal meeting, or is there one he might be likely to expect/suspect?
a: Dima would know this kind of gathering is the equivalent of a modern icebreaker.]]
<.>
Before leaving the inn, Dmitri prepared himself by washing and by changing into more strictly formal attire. He asked Liviana to follow wherever Faolan and the thieves might go, keeping an eye on them, and asked that she find him if they should run into any dire trouble.
He would yes have hired a servant to test whatever he might drink; either would have done a little looking into it upon arrival in the city, or would have arranged for something in advance of reaching Di Loch Bien.
He absolutely gave Faolan a cheek kiss - and, if Fae permitted, a kiss-kiss - before departing.
[note: Faolan thoroughly enjoyed a kiss-kiss thank you.
A very nice boost for Dima, who did not particularly want to attend this event, though he recognizes both its necessity and hopes for some use in it.]
Once in the hall, he sends the hired servant to remain at the room's outskirts, but within view. He notes the relative absence of others from Morovsk. Offers subtle nods to a few of the nobles he recognizes, and though he plans on checking in with the others from Morovsk, he'll begin by approaching the man he takes to be Alfrig, and whoever the man with that godsdamned overenthusiastic smile might be.
If/when he is able to approach, if he isn't introduced by anyone else, Dima will bow to Alfrig and introduced himself as Lord Dmitri Aubric Voronin of Morovskgorod, and say that it is a pleasure to at last witness Di Loch Bien for himself.
<.>
He doesn't get close enough. About ten feet from Alfrig, a tall, middle-aged man with a polite smile steps into his path and, with a voice to match his expression, says, "Lord Alfrig offers his deepest apologies, but while he is well enough to attend, his constitution prohibits him from conversing with his guests."
By the sound of the man's voice, accent, and formality, he isn't from Loch Bien, though he dresses in similar fashion and wears a badge marking him as an advisor to the court.
Before Dmitri can introduce himself, the advisor bows with a hand pressed to his chest and continues, "But how may I be of service, Lord Voronin?"
<.>
Dmitri isn't pleased by this intervention; he also takes it in stride, offering no shift in mien and letting his eyes rest on this advisor with calm circumspection. After the man has spoken, Dima looks toward Alfrig, then back to the advisor with a minor nod.
"Convey my regards to Lord Alfrig, if you would, as well as my appreciation for his attendance in the face of adverse circumstances. Illness befalls us one and all, and cares little for its timing."
He cants his head slightly at the stranger. "Forgive me; you recognize me, and yet I cannot offer the same recognition. May I have your name?"
[q: is Dima able to place the man's possible origin based on voice/accent/formality?
INV: 14
a: Dima can't say for certain, but it seems to him that the man's accent and manners are reminiscent of the nobility that once ruled Striker's Bay. If so, it would make sense that he's here, as he might have been a transplant after the downfall of the Rosewall family.
It would also make sense that his accent would be neither here nor there, as this was a good fifteen years ago; he's had time to adapt to Loch Bien society and adopt some mannerisms.]
<.>
The advisor's smile turns crooked, genuinely - and amiably - amused. "Forgive me. It seems I've lost the habit of self-introduction. I am Anicetus Spence, First-" He abruptly stops, his eyes flickering to some point above Dima's head, then clears his throat and fixes his smile more firmly - and far less warm. "Second. Advisor to his Lordship."
As if to move past his mistake, he continues, "As for recognition: it is my duty, after all, to know the names and faces of all in attendance. However, I believe we met - oh, it must have been nearly fifteen years ago, at your sister's first wedding. I was part of Emissary Merrow's assemblage. Oh, I suppose that wasn't a particularly cheerful affair for anyone involved; I don't expect you to remember me."
As he speaks, Anicetus has gently placed a hand on Dima's arm and ushered him away from Alfrig. "But nevermind. She is most happy now with her new bride, I understand, so why speak of such distant unpleasantness? Tell me, how are you finding Loch Bien?"
[q: would dima recognize the name or surname at all? or recall anything about merrow?
HIST, 16
a: Dima is beginning to recall several things: Emissary Merrow was the high elf ambassador sent to Morovsk for his sister's wedding on behalf of the Rosewalls, who were in the midst of political turmoil at the time. He may faaaaintly recall a much younger Anicetus.
He also recalls that it was around the time of his sister's wedding that Striker's Bay fell and the Rosewalls were all rumored to have been brutally assassinated.]
<.>
The pieces do in fact fall into place, the image of this man returning in dim but placeable form. Dima doesn't protest Spence's hand, or the movement away. He keeps his eyes on the man, while keeping peripheral note of any movements, any individuals passing nearby.
That fucking wedding, though. (And the gall to speak of it this way. A reference noted, and to be kept in mind.)
"As I understand, it was as cheerful as any such ceremony might be. Nor should any situation's gaiety form a barrier to memory. I do recall your face now, however distantly; and I am pleased to see you once more well-established." A pause as he glances over Spence's expression. "There has been some recent shuffling of the ranks, then?"
And. "Regrettably, I have had little time to experience the city. Duties rise ever-eternal, hm? I hope to see more for myself soon enough."
<.>
Anicetus blinks, seemingly perplexed by the retort about the Voronin wedding, but for the moment lets it pass. He glances toward Alfrig's throne and smiles with polite wryness. "Ah - well. Duties rise ever-eternal, but not favor. I'm certain my replacement will fulfill his obligations to all our highest expectations, hm?"
And, seeming to dismiss his own demotion, he circles back to, "Forgive me, Lord Voronin, but I seem to have caused insult where none was intended. When I spoke of unpleasantness - I would never deign to make assumptions about your sister's wedding. Her happiness now would, of course, be in contrast to the sorrow of widowhood, which - forgive me for mentioning the matter, but the death of a spouse is tumultuous at best."
He gestures, waving one hand delicately to dismiss that particular subject. "No, I mean the loss of the Rosewalls. It was unpleasant to attempt to return home from such gaiety, as you describe it, to find there was no home waiting."
The same hand presses to his chest. "Truly, I intended no insinuation or discourtesy."
<.>
Dima isn't particularly inclined to accept Spence's explanation, though he nods, offers the appearance of earnest, if restrained, appreciation. "Then I ask your forgiveness in kind; it is a regrettable habit, to anticipate insinuation where no such shadow exists.
"Regrettable, as well, to permit my misconceptions to blind me from acknowledgment of your substantial loss. Of course that would have been harrowing. It must be a fraught subject, still. Well. Let it never be said that any of us among the nobility are given to compassion." He exhales, a sound that might be touched with laughter, might almost suggest regret.
"On which note, I'm afraid I must ask the name of this newly made Advisor. It seems much has changed since last I heard word of Di Loch Bien."
<.>
Anicetus graciously nods as if to say, Think nothing of it, then seems to grow discomfited by the mention of the new First Advisor. "Ah. That would be Sir Caddick Lathom."
With tension at the corners of his eyes, he glances toward Alfrig and gestures. "The gentleman beside his Lordship has more renown as his Champion - the guest of honor at the Centennial masquerade."
He folds his hands behind his back, his eyes lingering on the pair. "It's no fault to yourself that you were unaware of the changing of the guard, as it were. It was rather recent."
Cutting a glance at Dima, Anicetus breathes a laugh that seems chagrined and amused. "This morning, as a matter of fact."
[q: has dima heard anything of caddick lathom beyond being alfrig's champ?
INS: 12
a: Dima has heard startlingly little about Caddick.]
<.>
A thing about Dmitri Aubric 'Fuck Off With Your Nonsense' Voronin is that sometimes he just does not. Pay particular attention to certain strains of rumor. Or official business that he takes as 'not his problem' irritants. So the revelation of Alfrig's Champion is a surprise; he knows nothing of the man, sees little to the man (sees that godsdamned smile, and Dima has never put much trust in anyone who smiles so much) (he was fucking right about Wythall, after all!), and lets his expression turn briefly bemused - brow slightly furrowed - as he glances toward Lathom.
"Champion and Advisor both— One might consider him fates-blessed." Or a man who signed his name to the right place at the right time. "As I understand, the confluence of such responsibilities is rare, as is the individual who might bear both." Dmitri's tone - casually observant - might speak anything from surprise to faint esteem to subtle disbelief. He turns his eyes toward Lathom - and, briefly, Alfrig - then back toward Anicetus as he adds, "Is Lathom indisposed, as well, or simply disinclined to mingle among guests?"
<.>
Anicetus only hums a response to the comment regarding Lathom's blessings. His smile doesn't waver and his eyes don't leave the pair, but it's clear his attention is on Dmitri.
The final question seems to draw genuine amusement from him, but he schools himself and draws one hand forward, the other remaining behind his back. He brushes at something on his robes that might be lint. "My Lord, as his Lordship's Champion, Sir Caddick is always indisposed."
There's a pause following this statement before he - apparently - clarifies, "His duties to Lord Alfrig are chiefest among his concerns. You'll rarely see him leave his Lordship's side, save to ensure no one approaches and overtaxes him with conversation."
<.>
"Such devotion is to be admired." Dima's tone suggests - lightly, but not indiscernibly - that he might not subscribe to this view. Then again, Dmitri has rarely tolerated the presence of advisors for longer than an hour or two, and has counted even the most ostensibly trustworthy to be questionable. "Your Lord has found fortune in him, it seems."
Fortune that - clearly - has done little for Alfrig's health.
The whole arrangement is not *not* suspect, though Dima's expression has regained its cool neutrality, and his focus now keeps fixed on Anicetus. He bows his head slightly. "Advisor, you have my appreciation for your insights, and I suspect Lord Alfrig finds fortune in you, as well.
"If I may trouble you for one further request: Newcomer to Di Loch Bien that I am, is there any location within the city that I simply must visit before my departure?"
<.>
Anicetus again bows, then pauses a moment to consider the question - and why Dmitri might be asking. When he arrives at no particular conclusion, he counters, "That depends on your interests. If you long for the company of your fellow nobles, the gardens in the Cloud District are tranquil, and the Eagle's Crest is the finest dining a tavern can afford."
He seems to be aware that this might not be the answer Dima is seeking, so he goes on, "Tomorrow is a market day outside the castle grounds; a bit of the 'local flavor' for you. An academic such as yourself - I do recall correctly, I'm certain - would enjoy the lyceum and library. You'll find them west of here. They are the only other towers in Loch Bien, so you can't miss them."
Whether by design or accident, he doesn't mention the romantic view from the cliff overlooks - or the beaches.
<.>
In fact, Dmitri had*been thinking that he would rather soak his right hand in acid than seek out the company of his 'fellow nobles.' And while he hadn't necessarily been seeking any particular answer - while this may have been more a question for the sake of asking a nearly neutral question - he does appreciate the rest of Anicetus's suggestions. (He also, knowing nothing of the cliffs, can find no cause for feeling slighted by their noninclusion.)
He seems to consider these options, and - for the first time - affords Spence the trace of a smile. "Those will do nicely."
Now Dmitri offers the hint of a bow. "If you'll excuse me, I have conversations to keep. Your introduction has been invaluable, Advisor— And you may believe that I will not forget your face again."
If Anicetus makes no move to stall him, Dima will scan the room for others from Morovsk, and move to speak with whoever among them - a single delegate, or preferably a small cluster - is unengaged with others.
<.>