| Diaval meets Prince Carmichael, the Sky Prince |
| Location: | The Dining room of the Golden Goose Inn in Amber |
| Date: | June 3rd, 2017 |
| Summary: | Having encountered part of Carmichael's Amber Flying Corps known as the Murderous Parliment, Diaval goes to the Golden Goose Inn to meet the Sky Prince. |
| Characters: | Carmichael and Diaval |
| NPCs: | Men in Mandrake livery manning the front desk of the inn, a gyrfalcon which works with Carmichael |
Carmichael is sitting at one of the larger tables that the goose has to offer with the table mostly littered with paperwork of all manner and variety. He's hijacked salt and pepper shakers from a nearby table to act as paperweights and has sevral empty tumblers for the same purpose. Snacks have been set out, variably munched on and mostly savory, as he works, relatively undisturbed.
Over the past few days, while in raven form, Diaval has been talking to the birds of the city trying to establish a network of eyes and ears. All of his attempts have been for naught as he kept getting told to talk to a 'two legged griffin' and then would get rebuffed when he claimed to not know who they were talking about. Finally, today, he carefully caught one while in human form and interrogated it 'on behalf of his raven friend' and was directed to the Golden Goose.
Arriving at the inn he thanks the men in Mandrake livery for their time when he is told that there are no vacancies to stay at the inn and heads into the dining room. He looks around and, seeing someone who seems to match the blue jay's description of the man he is looking for, walks over to Carmichael's table. He bows respctfully and, upon standing, says, "Good evening, sir; I believe I am looking for you but unfortunately do not know how to address you. I am called Diaval and am a recent arrival in this fair city of Amber." He then waits to see if he will be acknowledged or not.
Carmichael's eyes lift from a list of figures that makes little sense without context, lips working through a few more figures silently as he takes in the dark hair, upswept brows, generally narrow and bird-like aspect of the man infront of him and lets his gaze roam to take in the whole of the effect. He gestures to a chair, open palmed and eases back, setting figures face down beneath a wineglass as he does so. "I think the correct term at the moment is a little up in the air, to be truthful with you, mister Diaval. Your Highness, Lord Praxis, Prince Carmichael of Amber… lord Praxis, or Highness would suffice, I think. I need a herald or an usher or somesuch… or simply issue small cards with my name on it." He muses that, taking in more details as he does. "I think… I've been told about you, by feathered friends of mine." He supposes.
Diaval bows again, a bit deeper, and says, "It is quite possible, Your Highness," as he considers that one or more of the birds may have seen him changing forms and wonders if that, too, was reported. However, rather than asking about that he instead says, "Yes, it seems your friends are very loyal and as single minded as my similarly covered friends at home tend to be as they weren't open to the idea of becoming my friends when I approached them."
Carmichael chuckles wryly at that. "In a manner. They're loyal because of repeated interaction and a fierce kind of unity in the core. THey also have repeated interaction with those that interact with them which improves this ten-fold." He muses there, eyes narrowing a little bit. Whether he's informed of the shapechanging, he does not let on either way - it's not like his own transformations are secret, per se, just not broadcast at every turn. He makes no attempt to hide such things. "So, tell me, why were you attempting to befriend the Parliament?"
"I was unaware of an organization that I was interacting with, Your Highness. I am, however, keenly aware of how much avians are able to witness that men would not be able to," he says. He pauses to indicate a chair at the Prince's table and, with a questioning expression, wordlessly asks if he can sit. Continuing his answer, however, he continues speaking. "I had thought to establish friends among what you call the Parliament who might help me learn more about the goings on in the city," he says.
Carmichael had already gestured open-palmed to a seat, so simply nods this time at the indication, his eyes glittering a little bit with what might be amusement, but that never quite reaches the rest of his face in affect. "Quite," he responds initially. After all, he's intimately familiar with such usefulness, though often it's curiosity or stomach driven. A glass of water is reached for, sipped at. "You would be… the raven then. The one that was hanging around the rooftops flying after the crows and jays. Where are you from, sir?" He continues to study the other fellow keenly.
Diaval sits down and nods. "Yes, that would be me," he answers first and then says, "I'm from a land called Inisfail in what I understand you would call far or deep shadow."
Carmichael tips his head just a fraction. It's birdlike in the mannerism, which is pronounced because of knowledge perhaps. "I'm afraid I've not heard of it, but with the vastness of the multiverse, that's not entirely surprising. Inisfail… has echos of Lyonesse to it, though. I wonder, perhaps a distant daughter shadow," he sucks on a cheek and because without knowledge, there is nothing, he asks: "I take it then, that you saught to create your own little flock of eyes in the sky? If you do so, I would recommend notifying me of your proclavities and introducing your birds to the Parliament, to prevent aggressions."
Diaval nods his head in a similarly bird-like fashion. "Are there any recognition signs that I sould be aware of to favilitate such introductions, Your Highness?" he asks.
"Outside of a more dedicated than usual flock mentality, no. I do not draw attention to the parliament's specific members, for the same reason that they make fantastic friends," That eye in the sky thing is less helpful if there's something that distinguishes them obviously, after all. "They are aware of their nature though and will comprehend being referred to as the Murderous Parliament." He replies, with another sip of water.
Diaval nods and says, "Thank you for that then, I will make an effort to not interfere with them although…" he pauses and, after a moment, asks, "Perhaps your friends can also become my friends as well, Your Highness?" He asks this in such a way that shows he is being a bit presumptive but still with respect.
Carmichael spocks an eyebrow a little at this. "State your qualifications if you're looking for a job with the Parliament and greater interactions then, mister Diaval." The invitation is made, water taken in hand as Carm gives the other man his full attention, listening with both ears and his eyes also.
Cocking his head to one side, Diaval says, "My qualifications," in a questioning tone of voice. He ponders the question for a few breaths and then says, "I lived as a bird for a number of years," withholding the circumstances of that time, "And following that I spent some time as a scout and specialist for an multi-national organization."
Carmichael's eyes travel over the man, looking for the signs of a life lived on the fellow before him. The attire is really what speaks volumes. Being well groomed or at least neat, in your appearance and personal 'preening' is often a side-effect of having part-time wings after all. To be neat, is to be capable of flight, to be dirty and disheveled is a recipe for not catching the winds near as quick. "Hmmm," he muses. "What kind of specialist work?" Oh so mildly asked. "Generality is fine. But if you used to make noise professionally, I have less use than if you picked up shiny things."
"I did little acquisition directly," Diaval says initially before explaining, "I was still looking at the world as a young man so I started as a collection man, even if some physical convincing was required, and later moved into a managerial position." He pauses there and ponders how to say the other job he moved on to and then falls back on an euphamism from his world and says, "I have a friend who did work as well," hoping that some of the meaning at least comes though.
Carmichael may have gleaned a little of the meaning there. He watches Diaval with an apex predator's attention, though it's not an aggressive stare; merely the intensity of look. "See how you do for a couple of weeks. I'll assign some crows, choughs and ravens to you along with…" he narrows his eyes a little bit "…a half dozen gulls."
Diaval nods. "Makes sense. Can't extend too much trust to a new face too quickly after all," he says with a wry somewhat ackward smile.
Carmichael nods. "No, indeed." He muses on this, thinking a few moments. "See what you can see and keep an eye out near and far afield, not just the city. Diversity and coverage as well as narrow focus on the densely populated city areas. Depending on how that works, I might have cause to branch out into city wings."
"I do not know the environs around Amber," Diaval states. "But I will look into examining the lands around the city as well, Your Highness," he offers.
"Good excuse to gain familiarity," Carmichael nods, concentrating slightly at the way out. After a short while, a gyrfalcon sweeps in, causing a couple of waiters to exclaim and a murmur amongst the diner clientelle, but in Amber such things are commonplace. He churls softly at the bird, peeps and rubs at the back of its head. No message, just the chirping. Off it wings again - when he leaves, he'll find a gathering of birds waiting for him and watching, at least one raven there as a translator if he doesn't know the greater tongues of birds!
Carmichael's comments to the bird are essentially "Go get one two three, five nine, twenty four, eighty… bring assemble them. Sky-prince order."
"Thank you for your time and patronage, Your Highness," Diaval says as he briefly lowers his head again to Carmichael. No other requests are made as the man has simple needs currently and begging of a royal is improper anyway.
"Welcome to Amber," Carmichael notes in reply, bowing his head a little. "We'll see where your success lies, I'm sure. If you'll excuse me though, I have… a lot of organizing to do," he indicates the table, which looks like a mess and a half still. Delegation! It'll happen, but the packages have to go to the right adjutants and secretaries to actually get things rolling.
Diaval stands and bows. "Of course," he says before stepping away from the table to allow the Prince his privacy.