\ Haven:Mist and Shadow Logs/Dominance-Senate Meeting 09-27-2015
Logs

Dominance-Senate Meeting 09-27-2015

Dominance - Senate Chamber {Dominance} Past the grand, open courtyard of the government plaza, the Senate Chamber is a domed theatre capable of seating hundreds, and indeed hundreds upon hundreds of residents of the city of Vale are currently in attendance. The tiered seating is arranged to give everyone a view, the lower classes seated higher and further from the main floor, and those of a loftier social standing taking up seats closer to the action.

The platform in the center of the room is outfitted with a marble podium, and a semi-circular table is arranged to seat the members of the Senate, as well as the Judge Elect of Vale, His Highness himself, the king.

It is after dusk, and about 70F(21C) degrees. There is a waxing gibbous moon.

Places: the front-row seats surrounded by gold velvet ropes, the general seating area, the guards station near the massive wooden doors, the line to address the Senate Council


A slender and nubile raven-haired young woman discreetly slips into the chamber - a scroll in her hands. She hesitates at the threshold, looking about confused, and it's a spell of time before she slowly begins circling the top most rim of the amphitheater, to whatever destination she has in her mind.

a dark-haired, pale-eyed beauty in indigo silk joins the front-row seats surrounded by gold velvet ropes.

A modestly-swathed woman with a plain face would go virtually unnoticed amongst the throng of people jostling for a 'good' place, however scarce that may be in the higher seating reserved for those whose faces and clothing echo her own lower station. Despite the fact, her brown eyes shrewdly regard those seated below when she's able to see past the taller men and women.

a raven haired man with intense storm blue eyes arrives.

The six-person Domitius family (sans married Saturnina, who sits with her husband) is where a dark-haired, pale-eyed beauty in indigo silk has made her seat, on the outer fringe of her siblings and parents. She looks, for lack of better descriptor, bored - while others clamor to find good seats and tilt forward for better vantage, the young beauty seems lax in interest.

A slender and nubile raven-haired young woman looks about, fretfully, anxiously, her dark eyes scanning the throng in the lower seats for... something. Eventually, the scroll-bearing girl takes the plunge and heads straight down the steps, her bare feet silent against the stone.

Seated with the masses, a youthful man with curly black hair peers into the theatre with curiosity, seeking to get a view past the throngs and occasionally adjusting his own position for the convenience of others. His restlessness and decently bright hue of simple clothing set him apart slightly, though not dramatically from the many around him.

a modestly-swathed woman with a plain face joins the general seating area.

As the sun begins to set, the Senators arrive from some back room, taking their places around the central table with the practiced ease of many years. None of them sit just yet, as the last to arrive, clad in dark maroon and navy from his ruby and sapphire laden crown to his flowing cape, is the king himself. He takes the most prominent seat at the table, and the others follow, though one in particular strides forward to the podium, his gold-flecked brown eyes looking out over the crowd.

Quiet, methodical steps take a raven haired man with intense storm blue eyes into the Senate chamber. The man known as Counselor Deimos of the Din priesthood takes a moment to look around, focusing on the gathering's faces. Once that is done he continues on his way to the general sitting area, claiming a place for himself.

a raven haired man with intense storm blue eyes joins the general seating area.

When a modestly-swathed woman with a plain face finally finds herself a suitable place in the higher seating, it's with a forcefulness that belies the supposed frailty of the fairer sex. She has eyes only for the Senate, though she's quick to build a rapport on the proceedings with a man seated to her right.

A slender and nubile raven-haired young woman hurries past a dark-haired, pale-eyed beauty in indigo silk's party, and near at the bottom of the amphitheatre, peers about, scanning the faces old and new nobility alike seated within the front-row seats. Her eyes sweep past a dark-haired, pale-eyed beauty in indigo silk and her family - and then cut back. Recognition flickers, and she hurries back up the steps (not many, to be fair). "I have a message for your father, from the master of the Prominence Inn," she whispers discreetly and respectfully to a dark-haired, pale-eyed beauty in indigo silk. She offers the woman the scroll in her hand.

A quizzical look comes over a dark-haired, pale-eyed beauty in indigo silk's face, her brow arching. She shifts forward, reaching to take the scroll from a slender and nubile raven-haired young woman on behalf of the intended personage, absently shifting her palla back up her shoulder. "How exciting."

"I call this meeting of the Senate to order," Prince Fasian states, bypassing all pretense of preamble. "This evening, we'll set aside the normal agenda for the sake of brevity, and get right into things. This assembly has been called because war looms on the horizon. It isn't a distant thing, or a far-off worry. It is a distinct possibility and should we tarry in making a decision about whether or not to march east, we could well find ourselves besieged without warning. Our lands, our homes, sacked and ruined as the barbarians make the decision for us." He pauses here, his expression passionate yet firm, as if holding himself back. "We will now hear from Senator Prelan and Senator Justicus, arguing both sides," he announces, stepping back to his seat. A slender and nubile raven-haired young woman passes the scroll over, then promptly begins hustling back up the steps without a second glance. She makes it all the way up to the top and pauses there, Prince Fasian's booming address commanding even her attention. The girl attaches herself to some other slaves, loitering near them as she watches with curiosity.

His expression remains pensive as a raven haired man with intense storm blue eyes studies the man with the crown of ivy. He clasps his hands together in front of him, letting them rest on his lap at he continues to watch the proceedings. He looks around the general seating area and seeing a modestly-swathed woman with a plain face, inclines his head in a nod. He looks forward once more, now focusing on the named senators as he attentively listens.

The scroll is handed off to her younger sister to be passed, ultimately, toward Antonius Domitius, a dark-haired, pale-eyed beauty in indigo silk's interest in the proceedings increasing as Prince Fasian speaks, only to wane when he ceases. She sits back again, slipping a hairpin from her curls, and then another, and then another - fixing her hair as the Senate speaks.

A youthful man with curly black hair leans forward as Prince Fasian speaks, attention soon transferring to the senators. He holds himself more still and more quiet, previous restlessness transferring into a tension about his form.

As the prince re-takes his seat, a tall older man in the white robes of the Zionist temple rises, his beard long and dignified as he leaves the Senator's table to approach the podium. "War is a fact of life," he begins, his deep voice loud without having to shout. "But thus far, it seems mountains have been made out of anthills. A single raid on a southern farming village does not constitute a declaration of war. The scouts reported that the raid only happened because the Eastern army was being harried by coastal pirates. A brazen act, to be true, but hardly one worth marching our armies on a nation of barbarians that see warfare as the afternoon sport," he claims indignantly. He seems ready to speak more, but the prince rises from his seat, calling, "Time, Senator Prelan. We'll allow Senator Justicus to rebut."

"War?" a slender and nubile raven-haired young woman whispers, to the slave besides her. There's a bit of a quiet, hushed explanation that goes on between the two, the filling in of events by one far more informed slave to another far less. Eastern barbarians and what not.

Meeting the eye of a raven haired man with intense storm blue eyes only a moment, a modestly-swathed woman with a plain face only has time to nod his way before she too turns her eyes towards Prince Fasian, hands folded tightly in her lap. She watches the proceedings with all the fervor of one at the coliseum, only (probably) sans the bloodlust associated.

Prelan huffs, in that way only grumpy old men can, but he re-takes his seat. The next speaker is much younger, his hair only beginning to gray about the temples. His posture is erect, and indeed he is the picture of career military with only some of the telltale softness about the middle to speak of his retirement into politics. "War is indeed a fact of life," he begins. "But what is life if it is not worth protecting? Senator Prelan would have you think that if we stay safely inside the city's walls, that the war will not come to our walls. What will our industry be then, when the quarries have been re-routed to our enemies, when the merchant supply lines are stopped by standing armies? When the fresh water goes stagnant because we are sitting, besieged, behind our walls while the enemy marches on our way of life?" He makes a sharp cutting motion with his hand. "We must act! And that act must be war!"

A commotion begins outside, the muffled sound of arguments and shouts heard through the thick doors, closed for the proceedings.

A slender and nubile raven-haired young woman glances back over her shoulder in the direction of the doors - she's arguably one of the nearest to them, and the noises, combative and argumentative in a fashion entirely different from the thunderous, forceful eloquence of Senator Justicus.

A marked frown shows on a raven haired man with intense storm blue eyes's features as the Zionist clergyman speaks. His thumbs press against each other as he watches from his seat at the general area. There is a side-glance given to those sitting around him, before he looks forward again. When the next speaker offers his rebut, the Din clergyman's features relax. He just barely inclines his head in agreement at that second man's words. The commotion catches his attention, and he offers a curious look to the doors.

The commotion outside culminates in the doors bursting open, a bloody and bedraggled youth stumbling in to his knees, his left eye swollen shut. There's a shout from the guards' post, and they take up swords, surrounding the boy even as he struggles to his feet, his expression one of utmost exhaustion but a fierce determination.

a slender and nubile raven-haired young woman startles at the appearance of the boy - but curiosity far overwhelms any piteous instinct she might have, and it's bloody plainly visible that she's eager to learn the cause for his disheveled appearance.

The dark-haired girl beside a dark-haired, pale-eyed beauty in indigo silk lets out a shriek of alarm, one that causes the older Domitius girl to cringe away while pinning the last of her curls back. She shifts forward and rises just enough to get a better look at what's going on, lips set into a frown.

The entrance of the bloody youth causes a small frown to touch a raven haired man with intense storm blue eyes's features. He looks in the direction of the doors, at the guards and rises. The Din counselor steps away from the seating area and makes his way over to the doors.

a fair-skinned man with unruly scarlet hair arrives.

A fair-skinned man with unruly scarlet hair is something of a latecomer to the senatorial session, and as such, he keeps his entrance as inobtrusive as possible. He moves in near the back of the viewing gallery set aside for the lower classes, squinting a bit as he turns his eyes up towards the notables, further beyond.

a fair-skinned man with unruly scarlet hair joins the general seating area.

"Don't!" the boy shouts as a raven haired man with intense storm blue eyes heads for the doors. "They're coming," he explains, his bloody appearance making him the focus of attention. "Vale's own soldiers are marching on the Senate!" This dramatic declaration is met with an incredulous pause by the guards, who look to the prince for guidance. "Now see here," Fasian begins, but his words are cut off as armed soldiers begin to pour into the Senate Chamber.

A slender and nubile raven-haired young woman gawks, and huddles just a biiiiit closer to the other slaves she loiters with at the very top of the amphitheatre - they don't even have seating, just standing there, they all as one quickly move out of the soldiers' ways and attempt to look very non-threatening.

A fair-skinned man with unruly scarlet hair is no sooner in his place than the soldiers begin to arrive. "Well," he says, features turning a bit grim as he looks to one of the people beside him. "I always did have a terrible sense of timing..."

A modestly-swathed woman with a plain face rises when several others do to get a better look at the procession, gawking silently while many of her neighbors gawk loudly.

a fair-haired stripling with cold blue eyes arrives.

Even the slaves of Vale are afforded seating, though there may perhaps be several of them loitering suspiciously near the back for whatever reason.

A dark-haired, pale-eyed beauty in indigo silk's hand comes down against the shoulder of her youngest sister, the pale-eyed middle-child uttering a hushed, "Stay quiet, Augusta."

Bustling in and likely late to the event, a fair-haired stripling with cold blue eyes makes his way to the general seating with a tinge of coloring to his face as he adjusts the draping of his tunic. Bumping into a few people on his way in, it takes him a good while to finally find a vacant seat.

There's a lift of his brow at the boy's warning, and a raven haired man with intense storm blue eyes inclines his head in response to him. His steps continue, but they are not taking him toward the doors anymore and rather toward the bloodied boy. He slows down, however as the armed soldiers pour into the Senate chamber. His gaze goes to Prince Fasian, then to the soldiers, looking curious.

In marches the contingent of soldiers, and indeed it is not a very large contingent, maybe ten times a dozen men, but certainly more than the number of guards posted in the Senate chamber, though some twenty of the guards arrange themselves around the king and his attending Senators, their weapons at the ready. The old king barely stirs, watching the goings-on and sipping from a goblet of wine, but his son Fasian steps forward. "What is the meaning of this?" demands the prince.

a fair-haired stripling with cold blue eyes joins the general seating area.

The bloodied boy flinches away when a raven haired man with intense storm blue eyes approaches, but his eyes turn toward the marching soldiers with defiance in his eyes. "Zion take you!" he cries, earning a boot to the side that knocks the kneeling boy to his side, where he curls up, cradling his ribcage.

"That is one way to quiet someone," a raven haired man with intense storm blue eyes muses as he sees the soldier deliver the boot to boy's face. He does come to a full stop, though and clasps his hands in front of him. Looking over at Prince Fasian, he waits for the soldiers to offer their response to the prince.

From the ranks of the soldiers, a single man steps forward. None too tall, nor particularly grand of voice, he has a firmness to his standing that clearly marks him as this leader of rogue soldiers. "The meaning of this is simple. I speak for the southern legion," he calls toward the podium. "We've only just put out the fires in the southern villages, clearing forest to make space to rebuild. You all gather here in ease and comfort, speaking of marching to war on the enemy to the east, but what of the enemy to the south? The pirates have been heading inland more and more frequently now, and we won't be marching east until the sea-dogs are dealt with!" His men cheer loudly at this proclamation. "To this end, I declare a siege on the Senate until a vote is passed that war with the East will be delayed until the pirate menace is handled! What say you, Senator?" he calls in challenge.

A fair-skinned man with unruly scarlet hair says nothing further, simply watching in stoic silence. Given the large number of soldiers in the room, and his relative proximity to the throne -- actually, let's call it his relative distance -- there's not a lot he can do but watch and wait. He's on edge, though, that much is certain.

a tall man with blue hair and blue eyes arrives.

a tall man with blue hair and blue eyes joins the general seating area.

 slender and nubile raven-haired young woman and the other slaves still loitering up at the top of the amphitheatre

- for whatever reason - quickly think better than to remain standing there, so close to the guards, and they, as one, tumble into the top most row of seats, away from the swords and spears.

Grimacing as he observes the affair, a fair-haired stripling with cold blue eyes is preoccupied at once with observing and also with recording -- his fingers move in a flurry to scribble down his observations on a scrap of parchment from where he's seated in the general seating. The brutality with which the soldiers handle the boy doesn't seem to draw much of a reaction from the scrawny youth as his hand continues to flurry in his diligent and dutiful note-taking, perhaps even moving over fast, in light of his late arrival.

There's an anxious shift in the nobles around a dark-haired, pale-eyed beauty in indigo silk and her family, with the girl's father glowering as the southerner addresses the Senate. The dark-haired Laeliana rises from her seat, ushering her younger sister further into the row, a tentative glance given to the soldiers who've interrupted.

The declaration by the man from the southern legion is met by a brief flash of surprise that touches a raven haired man with intense storm blue eyes' face. It is gone, however and replaced by a look of interest. He remains standing where he is at, his attention now fully on the soldiers and the Senators. The abused youth is all but forgotten for the time being.

A modestly-swathed woman with a plain face is locked in a hushed conversation with the man she'd previously built a rapport with earlier in the proceedings. They observe together, though remain far enough apart physically to suggest that they likely don't know each other much at all. She watches a raven haired man with intense storm blue eyes just as much as she does the soldiers.

a tall thin man with blue-black hair and blue eyes arrives.

a tall thin man with blue-black hair and blue eyes joins the general seating area.

Caius arrives.

A slender young woman with blonde hair arrives.

Caius joins the general seating area.

A slender young woman with blonde hair joins the general seating area.

A slender and nubile raven-haired young woman boggles at the soldiers, her gaze flitting back and forth rapidly from the men at the top to the men at the bottom, to the other men and women and spectators and ambiguously-gendered persons that otherwise fill the chamber. She whispers something to the slave besides her, and he whispers something back.

The tip of a fair-haired stripling with cold blue eyes's quill dances over the parchment, flicking up and down, side to side as he scrawls down his notes, eyebrow twitching just a fraction upward at the challenging declaration offered by the southern legionnaire. His lips purse together thoughtfully, but when the ink runs dry, he's forced to pause, hand searching his toga until he turns up a small, corked bottle in which to dip his implement to refresh it.

Caius arrives quietly, with company in tow. He finds his way to the general seating to sit amongst the common people. Wherever he sits, he ensures a chair at his left side.

A fair-skinned man with unruly scarlet hair is situated near the back of the general seating area, looking up towards the focal point of the proceedings. "You picked a fine time to arrive," he comments dully, barely loud enough to be overheard, to the other recent arrivals who file in near him. He nods once, to where the king is surrounded by his personal guard, weapons drawn, standing off against a much larger contingent of troops. He speaks sotto voice: "Seems the army's not keen on being sent to the eastern front until the problems in the south seas are dealt with."

A slender young woman with blonde hair walks in just behind Caius, following with her gaze down but eyes flitting around the surroundings. She moves to take the seat beside the man, settling in and keeping knees together and her gaze from looking at any one person for too long.

Caius pauses as he makes his way, turning to look at the situation with more intent and his eyes widening at a fair-skinned man with unruly scarlet hair. "What is the meaning of this?" he asks, perhaps a little more loudly than he should, turning to view the commotion.

a fair-haired stripling with cold blue eyes leaves.

A tall thin man with blue-black hair and blue eyes says "What's going on here anyway?" as he looks around the room and at the people in it. "Other than us, this place is nearly empty."

I'd assume the entire place is filled to capacity as A slender young woman with blonde hair winces at Caius' outburst, attention probably being drawn towards him, and in turn, her. She looks up and around herself but then just remains silent, lowering her head and waiting.

"Shut up, you ninny," a nearby merchant's wife hisses at a tall thin man with blue-black hair and blue eyes. "Lest you want to wind up like him," she adds, pointing at the bloodied boy on the floor.

Almost as if he could feel her eyes on him, a raven haired man with intense storm blue eyes side-glances at a modestly-swathed woman with a plain face. His expression is serene, but there is curiosity in those storm blue eyes of him and something else, a little glint. That look given to a modestly-swathed woman with a plain face is brief, his attention returning to the man speaking for the southern legion and the Senators.

Prince Fasian looks between the defiant southern soldier and the unconcerned king, his expression of concerned puzzlement hardening into one of understanding. "I see," he says after a long moment. "So you come here and threaten the governing body of the land to avoid your duty." He grips the edge of the podium, the only obvious sign of his growing irritation. "Fine, you want a vote of no-confidence on the war, you shall have it, I'm feeling generous." He looks out over the crowd, from Caius to a raven haired man with intense storm blue eyes to someone and all of those in between. "A people's vote. Line up, all of those with standing," he says, not giving voice to the slaves as a matter of course. "And cast your vote for war to the east, or war to the south. Step lively, we haven't got all night."

a modestly-swathed woman with a plain face joins the line to address the Senate Council. a fair-skinned man with unruly scarlet hair joins the line to address the Senate Council. Caius joins the line to address the Senate Council. a raven haired man with intense storm blue eyes joins the line to address the Senate Council.

Caius steps into the line quickly, his face unreadable beyond the stormy look of anger at the soldiers here to shirk their duty to the legion.

It's Antonius Domitius who goes to speak for his family, followed by his son Hadrian -- though the Domitius women, including a dark-haired, pale-eyed beauty in indigo silk, opt to remain in their seats. The pale-eyed scribe of Vanna studies the southern soldiers with unabashed curiosity.

A fair-skinned man with unruly scarlet hair hesitates a moment, before making his way out of the general seating area. He doesn't look especially happy about the prince's edict. He looks from the royals, to the hostile body of soldiers; you can practically hear the calculations and weighing going on inside his head. But he's not keen to speak, not unless he has to.

A modestly-swathed woman with a plain face doesn't hesitate at all in joining the line, losing her new friend in the process. She doesn't seem to mind, instead prodding a rail-thin woman nearby to ask her opinion. She's very sociable, it seems, enjoying conversation with anyone who'll lend even the most reluctant of ears.

A slender and nubile raven-haired young woman- and the rest of the slaves she's up at the top with - don't move. Instead, they watch with animated interest and nervous curiosity (being the closest to the swords) at those who pile up down at the front and those who don't. There's a bit of speculation about which way they'll vote.

A slender young woman with blonde hair does not move from her spot, waiting with the empty seat now beside her on her right. She looks towards the proceeding line, something of hope in her eyes and the first time that she actually keeps her gaze raised higher and at eye level of others.

For a few moments, a raven haired man with intense storm blue eyes remains right where he is standing at. He watches as citizens begin joining the line to cast their vote and finally, the clergyman of Din makes his way to join the others. He happens to stand behind Caius and after a study of the man ventures to quietly say to him. "I have to wonder what will the Senate do, if our army to the east storms the chamber next, demanding their conflicts are given priority."

As the line forms, the stocky leader of the hostile soldiers steps up first. "I cast my vote for heading south," he proclaims loudly. "We have family there, and lands that feed the Dominance. What will we have left, if we leave the shores to the pirates and head East? Nay, I say we drive them back to their islands first, and then worry about the East." Having said his piece, he steps off to the side, and Prince Fasian points to the next person in line, a modestly-swathed woman with a plain face.

"If they do, I'll gut them myself," Caius mutters low to the clergyman. "This foolishness cannot be allowed." he says even lower as the soldier speaks, his voice hopefully lost in the rest of the crowds murmur to any ears but the man's beside him.

"I say--" a modestly-swathed woman with a plain face is promptly interrupted by a jostling at her back that pushes her forward, but she keeps her footing despite the lull in her raised contralto. "We start to the south, where the first weapons have crossed. It wouldn't do to not finish what they've decided to start. They'll sharpen our blades for the real trouble, the barbarians."

A fair-skinned man with unruly scarlet hair glances to the leader of the soldiers before speaking his piece. "I, Lucius Marcello, alchemist and polymath, am of two minds on this. I believe that the strategic calculus of pacifying the south before heading east is essentially sound. Therefore, I give my assent to the measure proposed. But I object strenuously to the manner by which this motion was brought to the floor. I trust the worthies of the city will not allow armed ultimatum to become a fixture of Senatorial debate."

A slender young woman with blonde hair continues to watch from her spot at the general seating area. She adjusts her roped belt, trying to look more formal in a place where her wool tunic makes her station obvious. She watches on as if someone clueless of the truth behind moves such as this, and just excited to even be in the presence of these sort of decisions being made.

"That's two for holding off on attacking the Eastern kingdom," Senator Prelan notes, a hint of smug satisfaction written into the numerous wrinkles on his wizened face. Fasian nods briefly, the motion sharp, then beckons for other voices to make themselves heard. "Heard and agreed," he says to a fair-skinned man with unruly scarlet hair, his eyes casting toward the silently amused king. "Next?" he calls, beckoning sharply to a raven haired man with intense storm blue eyes.

The slaves at the top gossip, a slender and nubile raven-haired young woman amongst them. Occasionally, she shoots a lingering glance out towards the door, past the soldiers. She looks nervous, anxious, but that's typically short-lived, overwhelmed by the drama of the situation and the curiosity it engenders.

a youthful man with curly black hair arrives.

a youthful man with curly black hair joins the general seating area.

Caius glances toward the Prince, and then to the man behind him in the queue but wisely says nothing.

"I'll bet Prince Fasian is mad as a hornets nest right now," whispers one slave to another. "Rumor has it that his vessel was sunk at sea when last he faced those pirates, he's been salty about it for almost a year now." This gossip spreads around a bit until it becomes a distorted fact of the evening that Prince Fasian is not only a Pirate sympathizer, but is also terrified of large bodies of water, despite being a sea captain.

To the rail-thin woman at her side, a modestly-swathed woman with a plain face opines in a lower voice than the one she wore moments prior, "It's my hope that the focus for war will not overtake the need for the complacency of the people. This demonstration only goes to show that the masses need to be appeased." Her words are accompanied by gestures, the side of her hand hitting another man in line repeatedly in the back. "Uprisings in the state? Right on the brink of war?" A scoff follows this ridiculous notion.

Nathan sits silently, watching the proceedings.

When called to step forward, a raven haired man with intense storm blue eyes does and inclines his head to Prince Fasian. He side-glances at Caius and offers him a supporting look. He turns back to the Senate, but his eyes fall then to the voice of the southern legion. "It strikes me as odd, that the southern legion demands this, rather than do as soldiers do, which is follow their superiors. Perhaps," he addresses the man that interrupted the senate meeting. "You feel that in turn, men should not follow the guidelines of the gods and instead make demands of them, hmm?" Before there's a chance to respond he continues, looking now at Prince Fasian. "To the east, I say. And perhaps the next time, our southern warriors will understand the meaning of proper channels and perhaps the gods will look at them with enough pity to save them."

Caius steps forward when it his turn to speak, hand resting on his sword hilt easily, forgiveable in the King's presence perhaps because of the very situation at hand. He lifts his head proudly, as he speaks. His gravelly rasp of a voice is quiet, unable to speak as loud an officer might be expected to but the quiet lethality of his voice begs the ear to listen and listen well. "I find it precarious that we even discuss this. If it were I, Lord Caius Valerii, who led the charge against Dominance and her glory, I would do exactly what they have done. I submit the possibility that these battlefronts are of the same war! Pirates thirst for naught but money and we have seen the coin so easily spilled by the hand of Ambassador Vahn. Do not heed the traps and tricks of the Barbarians to the east, nor these Southern Pirates. The Soldiers of Central Dominance are the greatest in the land, I vote we keep both battle lines and continue the War effort in full! "We need the focus and the funds to train new and willing members of the Legion. Your Grace." Caius will bow his head deeply, "As for the man who commands these -" he smiles grimly. "He should receive his just rewards for betraying the Legion and his office."

Gossip makes the rounds of the general seats as well. Fully two dozen southern families, many of whom have fathers and sons serving on the front lines, lost their homes to the pirate raids this season.

The Domitius men wait for Caius to speak before forcing themselves to the front in the manner of any vain member of new money. "I had been prepared to voice this opinion before the interruption, that it does us no harm to travel south - if indeed, as the Senator claimed, the barbarians were also dealing with the pirates - before we set east," comes the booming voice of a dark-haired, pale-eyed beauty in indigo silk's father, Antonius Domitius, casting his vote for the southern soldiers, before his taller son follows him with a more conservative, "I say we go east. The pirates never come further than the southern shores; they are no real threat to us, and if they worry the Aishmar, then we're in all the better position to eliminate them as a threat. Deal with the pirates after." From her seat, the dark-haired Laeliana watches on, tense shifts of gaze going from the soldiers to Prince Fasian and then to the others around her.

Prince Fasian gives a raven haired man with intense storm blue eyes an approving nod, and also nods at the Domitius patriarch. "Well said." When the younger of the Domitius pair speaks however, the young royal doesn't look quite as pleased, but he gives a tight-lipped nod as Senator Prelan continues to keep tally of the votes. When Caius ever so eloquently makes his stance known, Fasian waits expectantly afterwards, then asks, slowly and clearly, "But what is your vote, Lord Valerii? That is what this is, after all. A vote."

"He did vote!" a modestly-swathed woman with a plain face whispers fervently to anyone about her who'll listen. "He voted for /both/. As though we can spare it."

"Called me a 'lady' he did," a slender and nubile raven-haired young woman whispers to the slave next to her, who regards with her with open skepticism. "He did! At the Prominence -- " She shows off her ownership chit, which marks her as property of the master of the inn. "Was sweet, but I think he's taken maybe one too many blows to the head, you know?"

Caius frowns, but finally speaks again. "Despite my wishes to remain impartial ... my father would see the Legion move south, to protect the trades our family has investment in there." He says this with disgust, and his military bearing and the way he naturally holds himself to this speak volumes about his feelings of this choice. "The Valerii vote South, may the Gods help us." he says finally, with a quiet manner. He returns to his seat amongst the general public, holding himself a member of the people rather than take his deserved place with the other Nobility. He re-fills the seat aside A slender young woman with blonde hair, sitting like a rigid predator denied his prey.

A fair-skinned man with unruly scarlet hair doesn't seem keen to stick around and find out the fallout from the vote. Best to escape, perhaps, before things turn bloody. Once he's spoken his mind -- and allowed enough time for any attention to drift away from him -- he adjusts his chamlys, and slips off towards the exit. He moves slowly, but surely, keen to put as much distance between himself and the Senate floor as he's able to. "Seems a settled matter," is the last thing he's heard to say on his way out.

"You should have agreed with father," a dark-haired, pale-eyed beauty in indigo silk relays aside to Hadrian as he reclaims his seat, earning her a sour glance aside and a claim that, "I speak for myself now." The briefly-bickering siblings lapse into silence to listen on, with the middle girl forcing interest into her face.

Caius joins the general seating area.

Having stepped away from the line to make room for others to speak, a raven haired man with intense storm blue eyes now watches the results with rapt interest. A faint smile shows on his lips, polite in its bearing and in contrast with the judgment his storm blue eyes pass on those that speak in favor of going south. Those same eyes fall on the man that spoke for the southern legion, cold in their study of the speaker. The Din counselor's gaze then goes to the Zionist senator, extending him a similar look.

Caius glances over at A slender young woman with blonde hair briefly, offering a smile of assurance that is more grim than anything else, a serious man. He says nothing however, turning to watch the rest of the voters speak their mind, face sour with the already expected outcome.

The voting stretches on into the night, as is wont to do when the people's vote is called. Though there are many wanting to march on the Eastern Kingdom of Aishmar, there seems a marked bent toward the less daring, and as the night wears on, it becomes obvious that the people have elected to head south. Though Prince Fasian looks less than pleased, Senator Prelan seems quite pleased indeed, and he takes the podium. "The Senate has voted, and we move to head south, not because of these upstarts," he says, looking over the soldiers disapprovingly, "But because it is the will of the people. And so now I make a call for those that will aid in the Southern endeavor." He consults a scroll before taking a deep breath and continuing.

A slender young woman with blonde hair shifts on her seat as she looks around and participates in the vague gossip that is happening nearby. She murmurs to people beside her, but keeps her eyes mostly on the happenings in front of the general assembly area. When she spots Caius, she offers a smile back, but lowers her gaze afterwards, flushed.

This is where a modestly-swathed woman with a plain face moves back to the general seating, obviously not harboring an interest to wield a blade herself. She adjusts her grip on the palla in her left arm, wide shoulders efficiently parting her way to get out of line.

a modestly-swathed woman with a plain face joins the general seating area.

"Those that can serve as diplomats (at least nobility 1, education 2, and social status 2), translators (at least education 2), and foreign trade barons (non-noble, at least trade rank 2), please make yourself known. If you can contribute in other ways, such as donating coin (at least wealth 1), or aiding in the crafting of ships for the fleet (any trade rank), now is the time to pledge your name and contributions to the effort. Remember, a land divided is a land that will fall. Stand together, people of Vale, and let us do this thing well." Senator Prelan steps back then, waiting for people to announce their contributions.

"The Domitius family will pledge coin to the war effort," comes Antonious' booming voice again, the man not having to rise from his seat to be heard from it. There's some agreeing commentary amidst the nobles who offer similar assistance, before a dark-haired, pale-eyed beauty in indigo silk rises from her seat to relay, "I would like to assist with diplomacy." Hadrian nearby gives his sister a disapproving look, but she remains standing.

Caius chuckles dryly and he looks to A slender young woman with blonde hair for a moment. "They would have me be a diplomat perhaps? I think not though I could do the job. Would you prefer the side of diplomat? There are those in my family who follow the path of words and limp wristed wisdom." He glances momentarily at the Senator as if using him as an example of limp wristed wisdom. Not waiting for an answer he stands, "I will of course pledge coin to the effort ... I doubt you will wish my assistance with the ... talking." he smiles grimly, before sitting once more, business as usual.

Prince Fasian glances over at a dark-haired, pale-eyed beauty in indigo silk when she speaks out, giving her brother a decidedly unfriendly look before he quirks a ghost of a charming smile at the dark haired girl.

A slender and nubile raven-haired young woman The slaves attentions turn away from the floor now, the excitement of the vote giving way to the relative tedium of declared support. More than one eyes the soldiers surrounding the amphitheater, weighs their chances.

"I will pledge an equal amount to the efforts in the East, and only the East in addition." Caius adds from his seat.

Prince Fasian notes, "Of course we will be accepting able-bodied soldiers and willing spiritual advisors, as many as we can get and we'll need many, for the southern sea is vast and the pirate rats that call the sea home are prolific in their growing numbers. I will of course be leading the navy on this mission, those willing to join me in their capacity would serve the Central Dominance well in ridding ourselves of this menace so we can focus on the real war to the East."

With a pleased smile cast aside at her brother, a dark-haired, pale-eyed beauty in indigo silk reclaims her seat, adjusting her palla. A quiet debate breaks out between she and her brother, who tries to rally approval from his father.

"It's remarkably obvious that the south needs proper spiritual guidance keep them on the proper gods-fearing path, so I certainly can help in this manner," a raven haired man with intense storm blue eyes states dryly in response to the prince. He still inclines his head politely to Senator Prelan. "And as it happens, I'm learned enough to offer my services as a translator." A thin-lipped smile touches his lips and he steps toward the general seating area, to reclaim his seat.

a raven haired man with intense storm blue eyes joins the general seating area.

Caius stands once more, a wolfish grin on his face. "If it must me, it must be. For you, Highness I would sail into the maw of the Kraken and back. If you need another sword on your vessal ... mine is ever ready." His tone makes it clear the offer might not be as generous for anyone else's ship or vessal and he sits again, seeming slightly more satisfied now though still stiff.

A modestly-swathed woman with a plain face regards the proceedings with a slight frown, considering her options before she makes herself heard. "I can design ships," she blithely offers, her candor only matched by her confidence. "I am no carpenter, but I can make them quake before they even see a flash of steel."

Caius laughs, tuning to look at a modestly-swathed woman with a plain face with a grin. "Do that, Lady and the Legion will owe you much in lives saved. A worthy contribution."

a slender and nubile raven-haired young woman leaves.

Nathan joins the general seating area.

Caius turns carefully toward the rest of the people surrounding but focusing his attention mostly on A slender young woman with blonde hair now. "You didn't answer my question, unless I missed it." he says to her quietly, but with a hint of disapproval.

A slender young woman with blonde hair looks towards Caius as she looks up, "I'm sorry, Sir, I've missed the question, can you please ask again?"

Senator Prelan gives a modestly-swathed woman with a plain face a fatherly smile. "Bravely worded, my dear. We the Senate thank you, and look forward to seeing your designs come to life." As more and more people pledge their time and efforts, the scribe at his side scribbles furiously, keeping track. "We would be glad to have you and your talents, Lady Domitius, and I can only hope you get your sea legs quickly."

"I'm sure I'll adjust," a dark-haired, pale-eyed beauty in indigo silk promises, sticking the final nail in the coffin of her decision and leaving Hadrian displeased in his seat. He rises to excuse himself, taking his somewhat embarrassed wife with him, leaving the Domitius family two members short.

Caius smirks the faintest bit but inclines his head graciously, "I asked if you would prefer the side of a diplomat or ... Senator" he says the last word with mocking disdain. "You have seen your end, and I shall see mine. You will ... belong, to the Valerii from here forward. Better houses are hard to find." he says, with an intent look. The word belong rolls off of his tongue in a similar manner to the word senator.

A modestly-swathed woman with a plain face practically preens at the response she's given, a stout nod and a half-bow offered before she filters out with some others.

"I don't think I'm really able to understand the upper politics, Sir," A slender young woman with blonde hair says to Caius as she sits there, her gaze lowered. "I think my talents lie in amusement of others, or at least, in providing them with entertainment, washing away the wear and dirt from dealing with such things too often."

Caius chuckles again, with a satisfied look to him. He stands, "A simple life is the best life, truth to tell I hate politics. What I understand can be measured easily, but I understand it well." He motions toward the exit, tilting his head at A slender young woman with blonde hair, "I'm off to the tavern, for a real drink. I feel the need to wash away this night's turn of events and feel generous. You may accompany me if you wish, else I will send you with writ and coin to my home to be properly clothed and seen to." This time he does wait, his calculating eyes watching carefully to see how she will choose.

The soldiers, having accomplished what they set out to do, salute the Senators. The only one that responds is the king himself, as he heads into the backrooms with his advisors. 'Your loyalty to the people of the Dominance does you credit,' he tells the leader of the insurgents, before he disappears. With those parting words, the Senate meeting is clearly disbanded, though the prince does make it official in announcing, 'I declare this meeting of the Senate Council concluded. Now, I need a drink.'