(Written by Script and Ronin)
Val hadn't immediately guided Inarin over towards his brother and other friends once they'd picked up their drinks, instead pausing with the younger boy at the edge of the room, a fair distance from any other company. Inarin gave him a questioning look, glancing in the direction of their friends. "Are we not going to go see Arien and Jimmy?"
Unable to keep himself from grinning at the fact that In was so plainly following his lead, Val shrugged. "We can if you want," he said. "But I thought you might prefer a little time out of the spotlight, before we go and mingle with the high-energy crowd. Even I find our little clique a touch overwhelming at times."
Inarin laughed, finding it difficult to imagine the Castellane boy being overwhelmed by social interaction in any form. "Oh... thanks, I ... would be okay, though. I don't want to keep you from socialising."
"Your company's more than enough for me, In," Val said with a softer smile, putting an affectionate hand on the proselyte's arm and prompting a light blush. "There's plenty of party left. We can join the crowd later. How often have we had the chance to talk, just the two of us, after all?"
Blush deepening, Inarin looked away with a bashful smile. "Ah... not th-that often, I guess. There was the time at ... at the Aurellae? Th-that was ... nice."
"So, we should do it more often, right?" Val laughed. "Aw, you're so cute when you're flustered."
Of course, this only served to make Inarin go redder. Which was exactly what Val had been going for.
The two boys would have some time to speak together, but not long. Bernadette Arodring noted the both of them from afar as she exited a nearby hallway, swiftly altering her course to intercept them. She'd been looking for a moment to talk to Inarin without Florianne nearby. It seemed her chance had come.
"Ah, Master Castellane and proselyte Nuvellon. I was wondering where you two had gotten off to." She gestured to the deeper house. "Dinner will be starting soon. We should start moving towards the banquet hall." Her eyes locked on Inarin. "...though perhaps you might accompany me for a moment, Inarin? I was just going to get some silverware from the kitchen, and I could use an extra set of hands." She smiled. "If a proselyte cannot help me, I'm not sure who can."
If Val had rolled his eyes any harder they'd have fallen out. That was the thing about the Church's aristocracy, they had an insufferable habit of just appearing to poke their noses in at the most inconvenient of times. "Surely it's poor form to ask a guest for help with hosting, Mademoiselle?" The Castellane boy turned a well-practised and patently false smile on Bernadette. "Inarin is my guest tonight, after all, not simply a proselyte. Are you running that short on serving staff? Times must indeed be hard..."
Inarin blinked, glancing between the two of them with a slight panic. "Ah... I- I don't mind, Val. There's no need to ... uh..." No need to offend their host quite so thoroughly, he wanted to say, but he had a feeling that would only exacerbate the situation.
"I do though. I didn't bring you here to be commandeered for a servant's tasks," Val hummed thoughtfully, and raised a knowing eyebrow in Bernadette's direction. "Or for whatever they may be an excuse for."
Fetching silverware? There were some things one didn't ask their guests to do, proselyte or nay, at a gala like this. It was a transparent ploy to get Inarin alone, and Val was more than a little intrigued as to what the reason for it might be.
A patient smile cracked Bernadette's lips - perhaps even a bit pleased. It'd been nothing but pleasantries and laughs all night. A bit of fire was a welcome change.
"My apologies, Master Castellane. I meant no offense in commandeering your guest for a couple of minutes," she touched two fingers to her lips and bowed, "of course, seeing as how it is your first time as my guest, you should know that no request made upon friends or family by anyone within this household is designed to be demeaning. We are a family here - we work together out of the common courtesy and mutual respect which binds kin." A small, amused chuckle. "Why, I do believe Monsieur Lafevret and my own son, Sir Arodring, will be helping with the dishes after our meal."
She glanced at Inarin. "I completely understand if you're otherwise occupied, Inarin. If you have but two minutes to spare, I would very much appreciate the help."
She looked back to Val. "Or should I ask Monsieur Castellane instead? He seems to be the one making the decisions tonight."
While the exchange may have been jarring for Inarin, this simple sparring match as likely a common occurrence among the two nobles - if not with each other, then with other Lutetia aristocrats. The upper class of the city were daily embroiled in subtle power struggles, many of which lasted no longer than the expanse of a conversation...
Val chuckled. "Well, I certainly shan't be doing that. Forgive my misinterpretation. We tend to leave such duties to the people we pay for them, and build our familial bonds through rather less menial exercises. Ah well. The different worlds we live in." The young heir shrugged. "You do what you want, In, of course. What do I know of the unusual traditions of church families?"
Inarin winced slightly as the two exchanged subtle barbs. "Uhm, it's fine, Val. I ... I'll only be a moment. I really don't mind, and I'll be right back. Ah... save me a spot?"
The older boy suppressed a sigh, instead smiling to Inarin. "Sure. I'll be waiting," he said, before leaning across to place a peck on Inarin's cheek, then turning to walk off in the direction of the hall.
As ever, Inarin flushed brightly, taking a few moments to collect himself before he was able to make eye contact with Bernadette again. "Ah ... l-lead the way, Mademoiselle."
"Thank you, Inarin."
The two detoured from the main event. Bernadette led Inarin through long hallways decorated with ornate tables, family heirlooms and festive flower arrangements. The walls were hung with large, gorgeous paintings of ancestors past - handsome but grim faced, each bearing the trademark sandy blonde hair and green eyes of an Arodring.
"I'm pleased to see you're getting along with Master Castellane," Bernadette said as they walked, "the future of the city rests in the hands of young men such as he." She smiled. "Young men like you, Inarin. I'm sure you know this already."
They rounded a corner. Moonlight spilled from a glass window, frosted with chill and snow.
"...he's a bit... touchy, isn't he?" she hummed, "physically, I mean. Most try and keep a perimeter aground members of the Monastic Order. He doesn't seem to mind."
Inarin blushed, rubbing at the back of his neck and avoiding eye contact. "Ah... no, he doesn't. I f-feel like there's not much that would ah ... deter him from something once he's decided he ... that it's a thing. Social norms ... wouldn't be one of the things that would."
He shrugged, then, smiling faintly. "But... yes, I do enjoy his company... even if it's ah... unconventional."
"I'm happy that you do," Bernadette replied. A coy smile teased her lips. "And come - I am not with the Monastery. I know a thing or two about what you proselytes do behind closed doors." A quiet scoff. "Believe me, whatever you've done isn't half as bad as what Robert pulled when he was in the academy."
They came to a small, secluded dining room.
"Besides, he'll be your colleague one day - both of them, actually, the Castellanes. It's important for Evequist families to maintain good ties with the other noble houses in the city. I'm pleased they've found a friend like you, Inarin. If anyone can be a good influence on those boys, it's you."
She opened the cupboard doors and began loading plate into her arms. There was a long pause, then...
"...I trust your proselyte training is going well?"
Inarin flushed again at Bernadette's reference to 'behind closed doors' at the Monastery, and couldn't help but speculate as to what she meant about Robert's misdemeanours. Until recently Inarin had been sorely sheltered from the more ... colourful side of proselyte life, and lived in the misguided belief that everyone actually followed the rules.
"I ... suppose so," he said, smiling faintly with respect to being called a 'good influence' on Val and his brother. It was almost certainly the inverse. "And ah, yes, Mademoiselle. I ... I've been improving a lot, lately ... I think, anyway."
The proselyte hovered in readiness to take whatever Bernadette needed him to carry in hand.
"It is a noble task you've undertaken," Bernadette set aside a stack, reaching for dining ware in the back of the cupboard, "though I confess, sometimes I wonder if such a burden ought to be yours. "I felt the same way when Robert joined the Order with his fathers blessing. He was supposed to continue the Arodring name - to wield the full extent of his namesake's wealth and prestige to create a safer, brighter city." She began laying plates in his arms.
"I am proud of my sons accomplishments, but I must wonder what might have been - if he could have effected more change in the city with his family's recourses than without."
Inarin frowned faintly at Bernadette's words, staying quiet for several long moments before he responded. "I... don't th-think I would have been any good at ah ... politics even ... even if I hadn't become a proselyte," he said, smiling weakly.
Bernadette smiled. "Not quite politics, Inarin. As you know, none of us have held true political authority since the days of the old theocracy. The power we wield nowadays is far more subtle... but no less important."
She transferred another pile of plates. They came up to about his chest. "Allocating recourses. Supporting causes. Funding charities and putting your weight behind the issues that are important to you. The 'noble' families of Lutetia may not officially rule the city any longer, but virtually nothing of consequence is done here, politically or no, without someone from one of our namesakes supporting it. The Arodrings. The Lacroixs. The Castellanes. The Nuvellons. These names mean something. They built this city, and their industry, their values, sustain it. While the paladins fight monsters and criminals in the streets, we fight other battles - the ones which, ultimately, decide the fate of the Lutetia."
There was another pause as Inarin mused over her words. It was true, upon taking the silver he forfeited the fortune that he would otherwise inherit from his parents - paladins were not permitted to be bound by material possessions in such a way. Though he'd never involved himself much in his parents' business, he was not so blind as to have been unaware of the ways they used their money. By the time he broke his silence, the full load of plates had been placed in his arms.
"Th-there are certainly a lot of places I could ... could see myself wanting to try and use that influence, but ..." Another pause, and a thoughtful frown. "With all due respect, Mademoiselle, Lutetia doesn't need more aristocrats and investment now. M-maybe in the long term, yes... but right now the city needs people standing on the front line, to make sure that the long term survives at all. What good will my family's name be if the city that they built lies in ruins? None at all. It would be easy to say that others could take my place, that I ought consider the future more... but I can't in good conscience plan for that future whilst doing nothing to protect it."
Inarin smiled again, the somewhat bashful expression a stark contrast to the conviction in his words. "Aunt Florianne spoke to me of this as well, last week, but I'm afraid that my mind is made up. My place is to stand between our city and the darkness that comes for it even as we speak, not to step back and let others fight for me. I've had enough of relying on other people."
Bernadette nodded. She knew what 'threats' Inarin referred to.
"The choice remains yours," she said, "though you are a proselytes still. Who knows? Perhaps this darkness will pass before you take the silver and you will have more room to consider your future."
She took a stack of plates in her own arms.
"You've said you have made up your mind - all I ask of you is that you allow yourself to think a bit more about this decision. It can be difficult sometimes - to see where our duties lie. To understand the sacrifices we must make in the name of a greater good."
She stared down at something on one of the plates. The moonlight caught the green glint of her eyes as she turned and frosted her glare.
"Living can be harder than dying. Sitting behind a desk may more agonizing, more important, than wielding a blade. Some who may have the strength to stand on their own must, by their own volition, deny it. Some who would be lions must tear their own fangs out to spare the sheep. Such is the price of duty."
She gestured for him to follow. "Thank you for your help. Come - we must return to the dinner."
Inarin lingered for a few moments longer after Bernadette set off back towards the main hall. The proselyte watched after her with a thoughtful frown. Her words hadn't changed his mind - he still believed that his duty was to stand between Nox and the city, at his brother's side, not to keep himself or his family name safe - but they were worthy of consideration.
Florianne had spoken not of his duty as a Nuvellon, but suggested that his talents might be better suited to protecting the city from another side of its defences. Those that could better harness his mind, as opposed to his sword-arm. Even Val had spoken to him about stepping away from the front lines of the coming conflict... albeit for more selfish (and more than a little sweet) reasons.
Why was it that just after he'd found his resolve, so many people seemed determined to shake it?
Sighing, the proselyte shook his head and started after Bernadette. Tonight, it seemed, would be another night of restless thoughts and doubting.
