NationStates Jolt Archive

Fëaelen quietly walks along the corridors of Fëanor palace, looking for the living quarters she's been told Serendis inhabits. Serendis is in her chambers, looking over a fleet readiness report and sipping a glass of wine. Fëaelen eventually finds the place and knocks politely on the door, or whatever the direct equivalent is. "Who is it?" calls out the Prefect.

Fëaelen hesitates for a moment, deciding that Serendis probably knows who she is at least, "Fëaelen," she says, "I hope you don't mind the intrusion."

"No, not at all," she says, setting the report somewhere out of sight. Siri might trust Fëaelen but Serendis doesn't know her. "Come in."

Fëaelen enters, and smiles at the Avar, "Hello," she says.

Serendis looks up. "Please, come in, welcome. Siri said you'd be dropping by, but she didn't say why." She blinks delicately. "I don't think she was even sure why."

"Well," she says, "I thought I'd like to meet you," she says, truthfully, "I've heard a lot about you after all."

Serendis chuckles softly. "It seems my reputation precedes me. Would you like a drink?"

Fëaelen smiles, "Yes please," she says, "and it does, very much so."

Serendis nods, rises, and goes to a cabinet. "Red wine or white?" She kneels down, opening it, still talking. "So, what did Siri tell you about me? I imagine there was much talk about how I'm usually the first to go 'Gravships, ho!'?"

Fëaelen smiles, "White please," she says, "Gravships, ho! indeed..." She lets out a little laugh, "Not quite that, but I somehow suspected that anyway." A wry little smile appears. Serendis pulls out a nice Rhovanion vintage.

"Here's a good one, it's a couple centuries old," Serendis says." Menelmacari wine tends to age much longer than the human equivalents do. I don't know how it's done, but some of our reds last for millennia. Even the cheap bottles you get in the liquor store are usually aged about a decade." She pours two glasses, offering one to Fëaelen.

Fëaelen smiles, and takes the glass, nodding to Serendis, "Yes, I know, though I must confess, just how they do it is a mystery to me as well," she says, taking a sip.
Serendis gestures to a chair, and sits down herself. "So, what can I do for the ambassador of the C'tan today?"

Fëaelen sits with the prefect and smiles, "I'm not sure if you have to do anything," she says, "It's actually a real social call."

Serendis arches an eyebrow. "Interesting. Hadn't expected that, really. It's been my experience that few social calls are solely that. Forgive me; when one is spymistress and warlady for a living, the state of mind rubs off on you."

Fëaelen nods, "I quite understand," she says, "But then, if it makes you feel more comfortable, I have a large number of secrets..."

"Okay, here's something I'm curious about; how did a Menelmacari noble come to be in the service of the C'tan?"

"Humm?" she says, "I'm not actually a Menelmacari..."

"I suspected as much. Uncovering secrets is, after all, part of my job. In fact, I suspect Siri knows all there is to know in this matter, and has seen fit not to tell me, yet. Would I be right?" She sips from her glass. "And yet you're affiliated with a Menelmacari House...?"

Fëaelen shakes her head, "Noldorin, certainly, but as far as I know there's none of us in Menelmacar, myself excepted." Fëaelen explains that she acquired her Menelmacariness in the same way most immigrants (though she only lives in Menelmacar some of the time) do. Applying.

Serendis shrugs. "Perhaps I was mistaken, then. Things occasionally do slip my mind."

Fëaelen smiles, "As for how I ended up 'in the service of the C'tan' that's easy enough to answer..." Serendis sips from her glass again, listening. "I'm not. I... am, that is to say, I rule, the Empire."

Serendis arches an eyebrow. "Excuse me?" she asks.

Fëaelen smiles, and changes her voice, "You are aware of the Emperor of the C'tan?" she says, in his voice. "Okay... so... you are Mephet'ran?" Serendis asks. "Huh."

She blinked a couple of times. "Explains a lot. Including why Siri wouldn't tell me."
Fëaelen shape shifts to the other form, "Humm? Wouldn't tell you what?"

"That you were you. Seems like the sort of thing that would be 'Eyes Only' and such, I suppose."

Mephet’ran smiles, "Well, I do try to keep it a secret, but I think that as Siri trusts you, I can as well."

Serendis smiles. "Well, in that case, I suppose I can trust you likewise." She raises her glass. "To openness and honor."

Mephet’ran smiles, "Indeed, openness and honour," he says, raising his glass.
Serendis touches her glass to his, and takes a drink.

Fëaelen turns back to her previous form, "So, how'd you like to pay me a visit some time?"

"A visit?" the Prefect asks. "What sort of visit?"

"Humm. How'd you like to come and gloat at Theallas, whom I currently hold prisoner?" Serendis does a doubletake.

"You've got whom?"

"Theallas."

"How did that particular piece of scum drop into your lap?"

"We found him sneaking about one of our military bases," she says, taking another sip of wine.

"What in Eru's name was he doing there?"

"Sneaking..."

"Just sneaking? Pointlessly, aimlessly?"

"Breaking back into this reality" I believe was his excuse. "Besides, does he really need a reason?"

"Well, presumably one would want a reason before doing something stupid. Then again, doing stupid things often seems to be his raison d'être."

"Indeed."

"He has a long list of charges pending against him here."

"Humm," she says, "I don't think he needs a trial."

"Well, our laws require it. It's a pesky thing, but...yeah."

Fëaelen smiles, "Well. I don't."

Serendis frowns. "He has been committing treasons and atrocities against this empire for centuries. Our justice must be satisfied."

Fëaelen humms, "Can you do it in secret?"

"We could, but a public trial is usually such a big political boost, too. And it makes the people feel good."

Fëaelen humms, "The thing is, I think it'd stir up the Thelasi."

"Generally, though, that isn't my problem. I'd personally be satisfied to simply ensure he never stops screaming, but the Lady will want a trial. *Then* we can make sure he never stops screaming."

Serendis laughs. "I'm not worried about the Thelasi. What will they do? Invade us?"

"Something chronically stupid?"

"It *is* a chronically stupid thing to do to invade Menelmacar, yes. But that will give me an excuse to smash them. Again."

"But, before any trial, would you care to drop by and have a gloat?"
Serendis grins. "I'd love to." She smiles happily.