At His Majesty's Pleasure

Lourbon was a dot of an isle along his southern border, and left an equally small impression on the political landscape. No wonder she hadn't recognized him. In truth, there was a little known claim-to-fame that the Duke of Lourbon could boast - that he was a childhood friend of King Alexander. But Alais was not currently aware of this.

"In other words, no one you have to impress, so you have full freedom to relax," he continued, as if reading her mind. His tone was light, sly but good-naturedly so.

"My freedom to relax relies on a number of factors - Your Grace," she corrected herself from before, acknowledging his subtle humor with a distracted hum. "But thank you for your consideration."

"I'll do my best to attend to those mysterious factors," he replied, in the same charming, good-natured fashion. The Duke reached for a few errant cards, only letting a perfunctory "May I?" slip out before he made good on his claim.

She didn't protest, but her gaze followed the back of the cards as he made his claim. His presence and manner puzzled her just a touch; he appeared remarkably at ease, despite their apparently different stations in life. Perhaps it was too soon to tell for certain, but thus far he carried the quality of a man accustomed to having his way, as opposed to being servile, even in the slightest, as the head of a lesser ducal land would occasionally have need to be - before, for example, royalty. Perhaps due to a self-awareness of his own charm? Yes, that was probably it. Though there was also something subtly commanding about his presence that almost - no, she must be imagining it. She was just wandering off into speculations, as a bored mind was occasionally wont to do.

Without a further moment for pause, she broke the remainder of her deck in two and offered him half, wordlessly setting it within closer reach.

"Do you always carry around a deck of cards, or did tonight's company in particular inspire you to come appropriately armed?" the Duke prodded, still smiling, as he sorted through the cards.

"Oh, I don't carry them," she answered. To demonstrate, she reached outwards with an ankle and pressed her heel against an otherwise unassuming flagstone; immediately the piece of the walkway upturned itself, revealing a small and inexplicably clean repository, currently emptied. There were caches such as these spread throughout the palace and several even in the city proper, some naturally occurring and others a product of mischievous, adolescent ingenuity bred to combat boredom. In one instant, a steward nearly fell over himself in rage upon discovering an antique statuette hollowed out from the base, the thought of it striking a fond yet painfully embarrassing memory.

Duke Adrien's surprise gave way to a quick laugh, as if impressed by the incongruity. "Ingenious. What other manner of dangerous contraband do you have secreted away in this palace?"

"More knickknacks for children," she replied, innocently. Granted, a few of these knickknacks might be dangerous with the right (or wrong, or rightly wrong) intent, as they had been in the past. An exercise in creativity (and risk management) was all that was.

The Duke was placing four cards upon their sides, like a square, each supporting the one prior. She thought it spoke to something about him that his instinct with the cards was not to aid her in constructing hers, but to start a new foundation for his own project. And it was such a proper tower too - she cleared her throat, hints of a suppressed laugh bubbling through.

He glanced at her, a smile lingering in turn. "Still, boredom must have been pervasive indeed if it prompted you to hide away with your cards."

"You were there longer than I," she returned. She continued to commit a good dose of her concentration to her card tower, which was reaching its fourth and final tier "What do you think? Should I apologize on my grandfather's behalf, for the mediocre entertainment?" The words were spoken with a gentle levity; such was the tone Alais hoped to sustain.

"Not at all. The entertainment was excellent - if anything, the excitement of it all likely overwhelmed me," he said, his lips quirking a little. He placed a card carefully at his base. "My King seemed very taken with all the festivities, in any case. I think he was impressed. Did you meet him?"

"Only in passing, but I know His Majesty has been very pleasant." Pleasant was the kinder way of putting it. Alternatively, similarly accurate phrasings might have included mellow, anticlimactic, and... boring. (The lattermost not being her words, but yes he was a bit underwhelming. Unbelievably so - but again, what did she know?)

Pensive, she canted her head forward and knit her brows. "Is he often that way? Pleasant?"

"I take it you're surprised," said Adrien, thoughtfully. "I suppose many stories exist about him that would give the...opposite impression."

He paused, as if toying with the right words. "I would not, of course, presume myself in a position to pass judgment on his character, lowly duke that I am." That dash of charming self-deprecation surfaced again, and he smiled conspiratorially. "But there are some who say that he has something of a temper, and can change from one mood to the next without warning. I have no doubt that he can be pleasant, but perhaps, like many of us, he isn't consistent about it."

Such politically correct phrasing! Alais saw the logic behind it - only in this case, she felt no desire to emulate.

"No. I find it difficult to believe he is who he is." The description had not adequately explained away the King's mannerisms, which were not so much pleasant as they were bland and conciliatory. The distinction was clear enough in her mind for her to give voice to it.

This was more forthright than perhaps the Duke expected, and his gaze lingered for a moment. Then he was back to smiling. "I confess it seems difficult to make sense of the King's behaviors sometimes - to be so pleasant, and a professed warmonger at the same time," he mused. He sighed, shaking his head. "Such a string of conquests, isn't it? One wonders who will be next in the collection."

"He might as well call himself Emperor and be done with it. That'd be the more historically accurate title by now, would it? His Imperial Majesty." Trailing after what could have only been a rhetorical question, the last statement held just enough mild mannered flourish within it to maintain that spark of light humor, though not enough to convey blatant disrespect.

It still was an uncomfortable subject, considering context, and what better to deflect discomfort than with levity? The corners of her lips upturned into a deliberately sweet, and above all willfully ignorant smile.

More surprise from the Duke. His smile was wry, and more amused than before. "I think he would appreciate that title. Perhaps you ought to suggest it to him."

She thought she liked her head where it was - is what she would've ended up replying with had she not stifled the impulse. Luckily, she did, and likewise feigned distraction as she carefully arranged the last card to her tower:a four-tier pyramid of symmetry and immaculate geometry, and perfect triangles all around. For something that came up and out of the blue, she took a vague, childish satisfaction in its completion, sitting straight again - just in time to see the Duke place his finishing touches in turn. His construct just managed to overshadowed hers by a level, and there was enough of a mischief in his eyes to suggest that it was entirely intentional.

Well. That he'd actually followed along with the activity continued to surprise her residually, and there was something unshakably humorous to the fact that he'd taken a competitive edge to the childish activity. Her smile turned a bit more genuine. "Well done."

"Thank you. It was certainly a feat of engineering," he said, affably. He reached out and took a single card from the bottom, which caused the entire structure to crumble and crash. "It would be a waste not to put these cards to further use, after the lengths you've gone to in hiding them here. What do you say to a game of Snake and Tiger?" As if catching himself, he added, "Of course, I wouldn't wish to impose on your time."

Snake and Tiger - a bluffing game. That appealed to her well enough, and besides, her handmaiden's absence continued to grant her a break from the ball. "There's still plenty of time, so - why not? Shall there be stakes?" she answered cheerily, between sorting out her cards.

"Stakes? How mercenary," the Duke commented, though it was clear that this was meant to be teasing. "Certainly. Perhaps, if I win..." He quieted, thinking, before his smile returned. "If I win, I'd like you to tell me the most interesting gossip you've heard all night. I would like to leave Vvaria with some intelligence, after all."

"You overestimate the quality of gossip tonight," she forewarned, otherwise looking charmed by the proposition. Yes and yes, there were a few pieces of unclassified information she supposed she might be willing to part with. Whether he would find this intelligence worthwhile was another matter entirely; such was the subjective nature of his request. Thus far, she did like him enough to not want to disappoint him too much. But there was still a little waiting and seeing before it came to that. "And if I win, you must tell me something about yourself."

Duke Adrien met this with a laugh. "You hardly need to provide an incentive for that. People - men especially - are all too happy to talk of themselves," he said, sportingly. "In fact, I'm certain that it's our favorite subject."

"Perhaps I'm generous, then," she returned. She made quick work of shuffling and reshuffling, the cards cascading over one another in a blur. And, seeing as she already had the restored deck in her hands, she began to deal. "In fact, if you win, I'll throw in a state secret to boot," she offered conversationally, not lifting her eyes from her cards.

This 'state secret' she had in mind was none less than a well kept recipe for pudding. And it was spectacular pudding at that, so not entirely trivial.

"State secrets? If I had known it was so easy to elicit information, I would have brought my own deck of cards," he remarked. He picked up the hand he'd been dealt, looking over them with a critical eye.

"Or is your generosity prompted by confidence?" he continued, in the same humorous tone. "Should I be concerned about your skill in this game?" He certainly didn't look concerned, despite these words. He seemed, as he had been thus far throughout their conversation, quite self-assured. Casually, he dropped two cards face down into the pile. "Two fours."

"I wouldn't call it skill," Alais replied. "A lot of it still relies on luck, doesn't it? Otherwise it wouldn't be called gambling." After a pause, she added, "Three fives." This was a lie, as the three kings in her hand would attest, but this early in the game, it would be unlikely for her bluff to be called - there hadn't been enough cards to count yet, nor visual tics to begin noticing. She proved to be correct, as the Duke continued without comment.

He smiled. "True. Though most people only cite luck when it's their loss; when they win, of course, skill accounts for everything." He had a vaguely cynical brand of humor, but he kept it light and sporting rather than bleak. He put down a card that he professed to be a six, and continued. "Let me rephrase my question, then. Are you often lucky, Your Highness?"

"I might have been, but what does that matter now?" she rejoined. Two sevens joined the pile, from her hand. "Luck resets with all independent events."

"Yes, I suppose that's true. A coin isn't more or less likely to land on heads after a streak of nine tails." He smiled though, tilting his head. "Unless it's some evidence that the coin is loaded, of course. Maybe my question is fair after all - it is your deck of cards we're playing with." The implication was, as before, good-naturedly teasing.

"If you had any doubt to the integrity of my cards, you might have brought that up before proposing a game," she jabbed back. Moot point to integrity as it were, where the point of the game itself was to cheat.

Speaking of - the game had gone on long enough without some duplicity, even of the double-bluffed kind. Offering a smile, she selected two eights - from distinctly opposite ends of her hand (where she had set them carefully before), and laid them face down on the bench.

"Two eights," she pronounced, innocently.

It was impossible that the Duke hadn't noticed. His gaze had been attentively focused on her all along, and now they flickered to her face, with a sharp kind of intelligence to them that told her immediately he suspected both the cheat and the false mistake. "Snake," he said, experimentally, and reached out to flip over her last two cards. Four hearts and three spades gleamed out at him. He chuckled. "I suspected as much. Well done."

He gathered the pile, sorting it deftly into his hand, the smile still lingering at his lips. Interestingly, Adrien didn't appear the least bit put off by the setback; more than gracious, he even seemed rather pleased with her for it.

The game continued on, at a casual pace. Two tens, three jacks, and a queen began the new pile, and several more continued to join. It was all fairly innocuous, until -

"Two jacks," said the Duke. After a moment, he rubbed his neck.

Two jacks? Two jacks? A burst of attentiveness, and recognition, cut through more leisurely inclinations with all the straightness of an exclamation point. It had been several rounds back now that he had shed three jacks - it was long enough ago that it was conceivable he had forgotten, but something about him made her suspect otherwise. The fact that he was betraying any hint to past cheating was suspicious enough. Either way, discovering the right of it was worth the prospect of adding bulk to her hand. She directed him an odd, critical look (a notable action, of course, keenly aware of how long she did it when she did it so the look wouldn't linger) before finally declaring, "Snake."

When she turned over the five and the three, her lips twitched downward into not quite a frown, and she looked decidedly unsatisfied with her victory. Either his head was no longer in the game, or he'd thought to let her off easy - as her opponents were occasionally wont to do out of their silly perceptions of honor. Or it could have been it segue to a more elaborate strategy altogether.

"You did that on purpose." The words danced closer to the bounds of observation than accusation, not even going on to specify what 'that' was. He had to know. He knew. And he knew she knew he knew - or had she overestimated his strange brand of intelligence all along?

"I'm sure you're giving me more credit that I deserve," the Duke returned blandly, his answer as rhetorical as her question. He reached for his cards.

Still, it nagged at her, and the gears in her mind continued to churn. Why lose so intentionally, and in a way that felt deliberate to spark her recognition of the bluff? That rubbing of his neck - it almost seemed calculated. And then it occurred to her. "That was a fake tell," she said, suddenly, and felt immediately that she had the right of it. "You wanted me to notice it, wanted me to think I'd gotten the better of you. Then you'd pretend to bluff again with it, only to trick me into calling your bluff."

The Duke's gaze flickered up to her. It lasted only a moment, but she caught it - a flash of acute surprise, followed by the telltale curve of a half-smile. Something about the smile struck her particularly, for it was simultaneously vexed and pleased, and perhaps just a touch impressed. It was the most genuine expression he'd shown yet throughout their interaction, and she felt a little gratified despite herself for having won it.

"I see that Your Highness is not to be fooled by my paltry tricks," Adrien said. "I will endeavor to do better."

And he did. It could not but cross her mind that he had before been playing below his real capabilities, either to lure her into a false sense of security or because he hadn't felt truly challenged. Now he was far more aggressive, and only here did she realize how keen his memory really was, how skillful his deductions; he recalled cards from more than twenty rounds prior, and noticed the slightest deviations in her composure. She had to wonder if he simply had a natural aptitude for observation, or if he was secretly some professional card player intent on earning his state secrets. The latter theory, though terribly unlikely, was enough to be diverting.

As the Duke was far from stingy in his accusations, he left little wiggle room for the cards to exit her hand, so that any progress was accomplished tortuously. Damned if she did and damned if she didn't, she threw down two aces, a three, and a four while announcing them all as aces, all the while keeping a spare ace in her hand. With the odds increasingly slanted in her opponent's favor, she casually switched over to a more erratic methodology, perhaps even beyond conscious thought. She was aware of one thing, however: if she played with the same half hearted prudence as before, he was definitely going to win, but if she tossed in a few more hazards, she might at least bog him down with an indefinite stalemate.

Duke Adrien raised an eyebrow. "Interesting," he said, mostly to himself.

They continued to play, and in doing so, match wits. The Duke proved to be a difficult and crafty opponent, but she was able to hold her own, and on a few occasions, catch him off guard with creative subversions. Once or twice, she caught him looking at her oddly - his gaze thoughtful, shrewdly keen - and after a particularly deft maneuver on her part, he even seemed distracted.

Alais was in the process of retrieving a pile when -

"Laaaalaaaa?"

Though obscured by the flare of her mask, something in her face seemed to fall, with the distant, drunken declaration of Lala echoing out through the gardens. Oh no. Ohhhhh no. Not caring enough to veil her sudden discomfort, she swallowed and glanced almost fretfully at the source of the call, and the unmistakable melodious pluckings of some lute coming with it. And suddenly, any worth of victory or defeat in this simple card game seemed to plummet with the sinking of her stomach.

Another part of her was laughing inside. But then, Alais hadn't come this far in evading all... troublesome...encounters this evening only to be caught up just now. Prince Hadrian, in particular, was a very insistent troublesome encounter, so much that he had apparently shoehorned his presence at this very ball. Flattering, but...really...not right now. Really not in the right mood for it.

"I forfeit," she said urgently. At once, she collapsed the fan of her hand and scooped up the pile between them. She had the etiquette to hesitate just a bit longer before gently snatching the remaining cards directly out from the Duke's fingertips. He looked fittingly bemused, enough so that he merely allowed her to do so.

As she straightened out her reassembled deck, a few superficial bits of gossip did slip in and out of her mind - she hadn't forgotten their all important bet, after all. But which ones were interesting? Oh to hell with it. "It is said," she began in hushed whispers, ear straining to calculate the remaining distance of that lute music and the... it could not be called singing, for that would have marked a disservice to the term song - and how much time she had left to run the hell away, "That a few of the minstrels who arrived tonight are talentless hacks. Something must have happened to them en route; it's why you don't see them playing as the others do, and the chamberlain is very cross. Might even make a scene. And -"