A Test of Mettle

[Lord Richard Peveril]

A failure to report from one of his operatives in Triadon returned the Peveril lord to Triadon to investigate. The man was not terribly important in the scheme of things, but served this time as his eyes and ears to keep watch over the Imperial Heir and his companion while they pursued their agenda in the city. Gregory sent near-daily reports, but two days without word raised suspicion in Richard. If something was amiss, he needed to know.

What he discovered displeased him greatly. The fool managed to be recognised by the Master of Shadows and his infernal little minion. Worse, they apprehended him and then absconded with him before anyone could issue a protest. He was uncertain where they kept him, not that he could very well lay claim to the man. Richard warned Gregory accordingly, but the man had clearly grown cocky. A pity, he had been useful. 

Now it was time for him to return the favour to Rupert de Vere, that infernal, meddlesome bastard. As de Vere removed one of his pawns, so Richard intended to do the same and he had an excellent means of striking back. His network of informants gave him leverage over that little Trevelyan bitch in service to de Vere, and now the time had come to make use of it. Motivated into action now, he went to despatch a note via one of his other operatives, giving the man minute instructions. 

It was time to put the girl between a rock and a hard place. She would either comply... or face ruination. 

Lady Vivianne Trevelyan

[Lady Vivianne Trevelyan]

The demand for a meeting surprised her, delivered as it was by a servant. Vivianne accepted the sealed slip of paper, thanking the woman and sending her about her business before the seal was broken and the contents perused. She felt her heart sink as she grasped the intention of the note. Someone else knows about my father, damn that man. He will be the downfall of our House and the ruin of us all. Biting off the curse, she folded the paper and slipped it into her sleeve, knowing she had little choice except to attend the meeting.

The rest of her day was spent in deep thought and preparation. While she intended to meet her would-be blackmailer to hear what he had to say, Vivianne was also quietly prepared to protect herself. The dagger she carried was thoroughly sharpened, though she reminded herself that it should be her course of utter last resort. The City Watch objected to random dead bodies in the streets, and she had yet to hear the terms that were to be laid. Until she knew, there was no point in settling on a plan.

Ducking Rupert wasn't easy, but Vivianne was not a noted sneak who knew the ins and outs of the castle intimately for nothing. She slipped away during dinner, making use of the passages to deliver her out onto the southwestern castle gate, one that led towards the section of Triadon in which her presence was demanded. Wearing a cloak, she drew the hood up and hurried along the streets to the appointed meeting place. He would be late, she trusted he would prove predictable in that, but perhaps she would have an advantage there, a chance to study her opponent and determine who he was.

As she approached the alley next to the seedy tavern, Vivianne loosened the dagger in its sheath. This was not the best part of the city; it did not pay to be unprepared. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness broken occasionally by a flickering torch or a small lantern, taking a moment to observe the man clearly waiting. Damnation, he was only the messenger. She could see by his clothing that he was a mouthpiece; the true blackmailer would have to be another noble, someone who knew her father and likely in league with the smugglers themselves, but would not risk himself appearing.

Sighing, she drew closer as the man straightened, peering at her. "Make it fast and say what you must. I'm busy." Vivianne Trevelyan was in no mood for these games.

Lord Richard Peveril

[Lord Richard Peveril]

Richard himself was present, though out of sight. The responsibility for laying the burden of blackmail rested on one of his more trusted operatives, a man whom he lured from the Master of Shadow's retinue easily enough, playing on his greed. The Peverils were not so wealthy as the St. Claires were purported to be, yet prudent and discreet investments kept his coffers full and satisfied the bribes and costs of his plots. Dressed in his accustomed dark clothing, he lingered near the open window of the abandoned building where the girl was to meet his operative.

He watched the street carefully, aware that the girl had some skills in stealth. Whether she was ruthless enough to act in self-preservation remained to be seen, though he privately doubted it. Rupert did not teach his female operatives to kill and often failed to capitalise on the weakness of men for a lovely female accordingly. It might prove the downfall of his rival, if the rivalry were ever to come forth into the light of day. That the girl was so young intrigued him; had he already seduced her, or was it more paternal? The thought was tucked away for future use as a means of distracting the Master of Shadows. For now, his eyes narrowed at the sight of a small, dark shadow making its way inexorably closer.

Make it fast and say what you must. I'm busy.

The tone and words made a corner of his mouth lift in an ironic smile, a brief inclination to treat with her himself tempting him, yet Richard remained where he was. The messenger bridled slightly, but narrowed his eyes coldly at the cheeky little minx, delivering the words he was coached to speak. "Your father is a millstone of treason around your neck, threatening to drown you with his plans and plots to fill his empty pockets with the spoils of smugglers. How much worse would it be if the evidence linking him to the attempt on the King's life would it be, do you think?"

The man paused significantly, allowing the words to hover in the air between them before he continued quietly, "You want to continue to preserve what little honour your family possesses, you will return here tomorrow night to receive your instructions. Fail to appear, or disobey, and you will receive a taste of just how serious your situation may be. This is no threat, but a promise. Do you understand?"

It was ham-handed, yet that was precisely how he wished it. Rile the girl's anger, rouse her concern and test her, then see how she responded. He had little to no concern that she would fail to arrive. Too much rested at stake for her not to play the game out, but what action she would take was the true question. The test of mettle had begun.

Lady Vivianne Trevelyan

[Lady Vivianne Trevelyan]

Vivianne was not amused. Her eyes narrowed dangerously at the so-called messenger, aware that he was a mouthpiece, nothing more. This one possessed barely enough brain to remember his message, let alone draft the plot to expose her father. On the other hand, it was forcing her hand into a situation she'd known for months that she could not avoid. Her father was a traitor, but not in the sense that most viewed it. The man was greedy, and his greed made him weak, susceptible and vulnerable. Few would see it that way, of course. She had a few hours in which to make a decision, but for now, she opted to play the game.

"Perfectly," she replied quietly, meeting the man's gaze with a semblance of a frightened, humbled look. Whether he bought it or not, she didn't know, nor did Vivianne care. It would give him what he thought he wanted and allow her a chance to escape before the hold grew too tight. She had every intention of seeking out Rupert when she returned to the castle, but also of sending a missive to Lord St. Claire in Twinport. He deserved to hear of this directly from her, rather than the gossip that would trail to him with the Court. What he did from there remained to be seen, but so long as she had options, Vivianne had hope.

In the process, she hoped she could smoke out the conspirator who was working so diligently against the Crown and the Kingdom. If that fiend could be exposed, they'd all be a thousand times safer and maybe Rupert and she could get some sleep at night. For now, she waited to be dismissed, knowing that she would be followed as she did. It was just how these things went.


Lord Richard Peveril

[Lord Richard Peveril]

"Good." The messenger didn't particularly care for her attitude but he had been instructed not to rise to any bait she cast, nor to step out of the restricted role in which he was placed. "Now go, and make sure you are on time tomorrow." With a dismissive flick of his wrist, he intended to send the girl on her way, sending a look towards the lord whom he knew was observing nearby.

Richard gave the man an approving nod, waiting until the Trevelyan girl was on her way before he negligently tossed a pouch of coins. "Make sure you too are on time. I have no tolerance for those who disobey." Without further word, he turned and departed, the better to meet his cousin. It was time to further his plans.