It's a winter evening. Whether winter nights are fine or abyssmal is truly up for personal interpretation. While it is fodder for many a riveting journal entry, it's only acknowledged within the walls of the Empirical by the actions taken to offset it. Fires burn within fireplaces, spreading their comfort and warmth with the company of the crackling and popping of logs. Hanging lanterns and strategically placed candles assist in providing illumination to the gathering.

The staff this evening is in slightly greater numbers than usually, likely owing to the presence of a few smartly dressed beef-bodies that have spread throughout the Empirical's interior. Their presence is unobtrusive though, much like an end table's unobtrusive until it comes out of nowhere to stub the toe of a passerby.

Amidst it all is Duke Hadrian Mazetti, settled into an arm chair with one ankle resting atop the opposite knee. His boot-clad foot bounces with pent up energy while the remainder of him seems as calm and serene as a lazy picnic on a sunny spring afternoon. He's waiting for the proper time to begin the latest Salon discussion and taking that moment of peace and quiet to enjoy a little day drinking. Except it's night. So basically just any other night for Arx's alcohol obsessed but rarely inebriated population.

Jerome, a bodyguard, Elaine, an older courtier, Morgana, a proper secretary, 2 Valardin Knights arrive, following Isabeau.

Eirene saunters her way into the salon with her usual self-possessed air. Black leathers, teal steelsilk as a splash of color, and her black and white braids neatly pinned atop her head in a fancy swirl of color. "Nephew," she greets the Duke with a lazy grin. "I'm expecting lots of arrows flying overhead on THIS topic," she adds, expecting pure chaos. Or hoping for it, rather. She orders a hot spiked cider to warm her gloved hands around.

Ryhalt enters the Emperical with a smile, though he does lift his eyebrows at the notable increase to security. With a slight shake of his head, he makes his way over to one of the seating areas and makes himself comfortable. He inclines his head to Hadrian in greeting and acknowledgement as host.

There's a lean figure lounging on a low-rising couch. Raymesin really isn't dressed for the occasion; the man's wearing the sort of scuffed and scarred black leathers of dubious quality and even more dubious provenance favoured by the Lowers tough - although, given the size of his lean frame, they were probably made for him because they fit. There's a tankard on the carved table in front of him, but he's mostly people-watching right now. Eirene's arrival gets the woman a nod, at least.

Cesare drifts in with his usual languid poise, except that his dark hair and indigo coat are dusted liberally with snow. Despite his southern origins, and the rosy nose and cheeks which signal he walked here, he doesn't seem terribly bothered by the weather; adaptable in this as in all things, perhaps. The presence of the extra himbos is noted, a bow offered to the Duke, and Cesare makes his way to the bar in order to procure the necessaries for the evening.

Mabelle enters the salon quietly as if she tries to win as little attention as possible. She offers a bow of her head to Hadrian, "Duke Mazetti", and an inclination of her head to Ryhalt, "Duke Farshaw" and a general greeting to the others, "Good evening", before finding a seat by the bar.

2 Redrain Guards arrives, following Bahiya.

Ryhalt has joined the plush stools fronting a golden cypress bar.

Black, silver and pearls marks the entrance of the Telmarine Duchess, in more severe colors than what might be usual for her blond, blue-eyed beauty. Isabeau makes her way in and settles down onto a chair, draping herself atop one neatly as Elaine moves up to find the duchess something to drink in the non-alcoholic vein.

Raimon, seated in one of the scattered chairs in various elegant styles, regards the flames of the fireplace with a thoughtful mien and open bearing. Shoulders back, head upraised, eyes focussed, he gazes and muses. Fire. Most mercurial of the Four Corporeal Alchemical Elements, yet we rely on it, every winter, to survive. Irony. Run Wild, it is the Ruin of Empires. Tamed, it makes roast chickens. The parallels with the subject at hand are there to see. So, Raimon sees them.

Isabeau has joined the scattered chairs in various elegant styles.

Bahiya arrives without fanfare on the arm of a guardswoman in Redrain livery, the Ambassador herself garbed in gold and aquamarine, a matching ribbon bound snug over her eyes. Dark hair is pinned loosely back and up and held into place with faceted beads and gold combs. The guard at her side murmurs quietly to her ward and Bahiya replies back, and is guided around people and through the room to a seat. The Eurusi woman settles and tilts her head to listen as the guardswoman takes a step back to maintain vigil without hovering.

Bahiya has joined the low-rising couches flanking a carved table.

"Lady Eirene," comes Hadrian's initial response, followed by a simple smile that flashes to life across his otherwise relaxed expression. His shoulders rise and fall as he gives a little wave of his free hand, notably the one not holding his glass of wine, "I don't expect anything of the sort. Prepared for it? Surely. Expect it? I do not". He silences himself with a lone, brief sip from his glass. When it lowers again he offer a shallow dip of the chin toward Duke Ryhalt Farshaw in equal acknowledgment paid to the other. Then onward to Lady Mabelle whom he favors with a smile that seems nearly as warm as the Empirical itself. "My lady," he offers in greeting and acknowledgment.

Then the glass is set aside, which is promptly swept up by Luigi who awaits nearby. Whether because the Duke's aide, lawyer, assistant, and more is looking to score himself some wine that hasn't been rather intentionally watered down or because he's overseeing the security of the Duke's drink? Could be debated. WHen Hadrian moves to stand, he takes a step forward and his arms spread out as he begins to speak, his brilliant harlequin eyes dancing about in search of one face or another as it roams throughout the Empirical, "Neo-nobles. They're a topic of great interest and much debate of late. The last Assembly of Peers saw them, once again, brought to the forefront as a topic of contention. We're gathering here today to discuss the topic. To look at it from our personal perspectives, but also to listen to the perspectives of those who are not ourselves, our friends, or the understanding and always agreeable pages of our journals".

Hadrian's hand lowers and he reaches out, his fingers opening and closing into a light fist. Clearly signaling toward Luigi that he's in desperate need of a wine glass to feel that opening-and-closing fist. When his fingertips brush glass, they soon wrap their long, spindly selves around it and Hadrian permits himself a sip. Once it has been swallowed down and a light dart of a tongue's pink tip dabs his lip dry, Duke Mazetti concludes, "So please, state your views. Or? If you're feeling particularly bold? Don't state your views. State why the views of those you don't agree with... make some sense. There's always some credible points to be made from the opposition and at least acknowledging them? Is one part of the journey to greater enlightenment."

Eirene waits to see who will be going first. There's a curious look to her as the Skal'dajian ambassador joins her and she murmurs softly in a greeting. But she doesn't address the topic at hand. Yet.

Cesare glances around to see if anyone else will make the first comment, moving away from the bar to descend into a seat with a placid expression. "I suppose in order to understand the Compact's objections to neonobility we must first understand the source of the objections that the peerage holds to neo-nobles in the first place. My understanding is that each of the Great Houses holds a particular link to a powerful bloodline, whether one believes it literal or otherwise. Valardin to Valar the White Dragon, and so forth and so on. I'm an orphan with no bloodline to speak of, but if anyone else could elucidate further?"

Raymesin retrieves his tankard; there are murmurings with Eirene, and then with Bahiya when she joins them. Cesare's comment has him looking to the man with a bare hint of a smile around the shadows his hat casts across his face.

Bahiya tilts her head as Eirene speaks and replies back, and to the couch's other occupant as well, before her features face Cesare. Blind, Bahiya can follow a voice and she does so, listening to every word but for now, saying nothing.

Ryhalt smiles to Mabelle, greeting her with, "Lady Mabelle," as he sits beside her. As Hadrian starts them off, he watches the man, a wry twist to his smile. "As one who has elevated a baron from a commoner bastard, I will argue that there will always be a place for it. In general I do *not* approve of commoner elevations to the peerage, but there are the occasional circumstance where it is something which will bring strength to the Compact rather than dilute it." He glances to Cesare, inclining his head slightly. "It isn't so much to do with bloodline, since all of the families are quite mixed at this point, but the question if a person will carry forth noble ideals of the Compact, be able to hold to the duties and responsibilities, and not be one which will fly in the face of the traditions we know to be right, true, and necessary for our survival."

"If that's all yer lookin' for, I can find yer a few thousand'a them without venturin' a mile from my front door," says Raymesin to Ryhalt. He sounds just like the Lowers tough he's dressed as, his accent coarse and untutored and so thick he can probably cut it with one of the knives peacebonded at his belt.

"It seems I'll be leading the rhetorical opposition today, huh?" Hadrian asks with a quiet laugh and a sweeping glance cast throughout the Empirical. Finding none that speak up immediately, Hadrian's eyes draw closed. It is during that moment of respite that his expression shifts. The smile that he wears with ease fades away and is soon replaced by a rather mild scowl, one that speaks of minor contempt. It's as though that simple closing of the eyes and a moment of thought was enough to completely alter his demeanor as his gaze settles upon Cesare. It is cold, unimpressed, and largely bordering on the inconvenienced. When the Duke does begin to speak, his head cants ever so slightly to the right as he asks with narrowed eyes, "What benefit do the new nobility offer to the Compact?" he asks. Battling a question with a question before he elaborates upon the question he's only just asked, "We have knighthood, ministers, positions of favor and honor, we have ways to uplift those who have proven themselves to go above and beyond. Who truly earn through their merits - or lackthereof - the acknowledgment of their superb ability, knowledge, skills, and talents. If it's great reward that a liege hopes to offer? Empower that person as your Voice. No need to marry them and truly put on display the weakness that is your rule. Why is nobility the automatic response to someone doing what is expected of them?"

Though Ryhalt's words do earn a look from Hadrian and Duke Mazetti seems to practically squirm against the words he's only just spoken. As though they do not quite suit him and simply make his skin crawl. He even goes so far as to wash the words away with another splash of wine into his face-hole.

Mabelle purses her lips a moment before voicing, quietly, "I think its not a matter of objection, as Duke Farshaw said, more of.. expectation? Nobles have been raised a certain way, on certain values for the moment they are born and once someone is ennobled they are expected to suddenly what? Learn what you have embedded in you for years? One side seeks them to join wholeheartedly while the other side expect tolerance?", she considers, "I suppose that is why the mark of neo noble carries out through generations", she seems to think about her words even as she speaks them. Then reaches out for some mulled cider.

Eirene would be eating popcorn, if such was a thing. "So what about the fact that ain't nobody got a noble title without great-great-grand whatever's earning it? Why should we set a cut off at who should or shouldn't be considered 'noble' after a point? Only reason you call me Lady is because the woman who shot me out was a Duchess. Major, commander, doctor - I earned those and they matter. So why should it be a big stink if someone has earned that title through hard work, leadership, and dedication? How many nobles these days have DONE the work to earn that title, through word and deed?"

"What benefit?" Cesare smiles mildly, inclines his head to Hadrian. "As Duke Ryhalt noted; our bloodlines are, at this point, quite mixed. The same families have dominated the political landscape for hundreds of years. The empowering of new members of nobility allows for both literal fresh blood and fresh perspective. If the perspective of the esteemed members of the peerage who elevate them in the first place is trusted, we are ensured these new nobles have gifts worthy of giving. In some circumstances, such as, for example, Marquessa Cassiopeia Proscipi, they were already considered high nobility among long-lived civilizations before entering the Compact; her bloodline dates back to the founding of the Saffron Chain itself, and she was a Princess of Tremorus, educated in the ways of nobility and courtly graces. As a respected commoner myself, I can well speak to the limitations that are inherent in my position. If I am a Voice, a trusted servant, and I have children? It is only my liege's good graces which ensure my children's place in his household. There is no guarantee. And I have no right to speak in the Assembly on my /own/ behalf. Only on behalf of my liege."

Bahiya continues to listen, as the Redrain guardswoman creeps up from behind her to wrap a mug of something fragrant and steaming into her hand. Bahiya gives her attendant a smile even though she can't see her, murmuring something that sounds like, 'one for you as well', before turning back to the conversation before her.

Savio has joined the tiered benches ringing The Forum.

Ryhalt chuckles at Raymesin. "Of course not. The man in question had spent years in loyal service to me, my family, as a Knight and our House Sword. But, that is not enough." There is firm clarity in his tone on that point, a sympathetic smile to Hadrian to his points that there *are* other ways to acknowledge commoners. "And, it was not enough for my Cousin." He also nods in agreement with Mabelle's points. "Goes back to the traditions which I speak. Too many neo-nobles have been elevated of late without a thought or care to how the person is educated in our ways, the expectations of being a noble. Why, I have heard commoners say they are just as we are. But, it is a very rare one that has access to education. A rarer one which will be able to weather the just criticism should they find themselves newly noble." He shrugs to Eirene. "Too few have a concept of what nobility even is, which is why elevating someone without the concept is even more dangerous. Nobility is not a life of luxury. It is a life of endless service to our liege and to our vassals. How many newly elevated in the past year or so can we say have that attitude?"

Savio slips in just in time to hear a Proscipi name drop, oooh. There is of course no disagreement from him regarding the noble merits and lineage of the esteemed Cassiopeia, and he discreetly takes a spot to watch and listen where his path of walking won't cross him in front of anyone else that is trying to speak or view.

A dry comment does follow Ryhalt's question, amused. "A few."

The discussion finally seems to found its legs and Hadrian takes a step back. He settles back down into his seat and his gaze flicks from one speaker to another. It is now his turn to fall into silence and observe the conversation as it unfolds. He nods along with one point or another, though he does not interject or interrupt to make that agreement heard. Instead he pays each point of view its due respect by doing something as simple as listening to it. Keenly.

Isabeau remains sitting comfortably, her hands folding neatly in her black-clad lap, adjusting the folds of her skirt, "There is a difference of a new noble being raised because of specific extenuating circumstances or the consistent proving of worth, and being raised for frivolous reasons." She gets a slow gesture of her hand, "I believe that neo-nobles feel like a threat to some people. That if those not born of our most high and esteemed blood can hold power, what if their own power is stripped away by someone with more energy and ambition than breeding?"

Raymesin's eyebrows lift at Ryhalt's words. "Well, it ain't like yer shit don't stink," he points out drily. "But when yer starvin' on the streets, thievin' ter live an' sleepin' wherever the Iron Guard ain't kicked yer out, you silks /do/ live lives'a luxury. Yer not wonderin' where yer next meal's comin' from, or whether yer gonna freeze ter death tonight, or if you'll get rolled in the night for whatever scrap'a sack yer callin' a blanket. I mean, this is all I'm drinkin' because I gotta go back ter the Lowers later. To a lot'a us, yer do live in sheer, pure, utter, luxury."

Mabelle seems to mull over Hadrian's question, but is content to listen for a while, but her face often drops into a frown, followed by a sip.

"Do you object to Baroness Natalia's elevation, Duke Ryhalt?" Cesare questions. "She was born of nobility, true. Educated of nobility. But her education did not lead her far, as her title was stripped from her. And then it was her experiences as a member of Whisper House which led her to develop the grace and wisdom necessary to be deemed worthy of holding a title again. So what would you say of that?" He raises an eyebrow. "And perhaps if those of high and esteemed blood are worried those with more energy and ambition may strip their power...they ought to develop more energy and ambition."

Bahiya sips her mug and continues to listen, quiet, but there does begin to form a small line between her brows as the conversation/debate continues.

Ondine, a red-breasted sparrowhawk arrives, delivering a message to Raimon before departing.

Ryhalt considers Raymesin with a grin and incline of his head to the man's points. "The point is not about luxury, however. Appointment to nobility does come with a fantastic increase to wealth, but wealth does not promise luxury. I could give a thousand silver to a hundred commoners in Lowers, but how many of them will increase that thousand? Most of them will squander it because they do not have the knowledge or discipline to invest it wisely or the connections to build it. Even a noble house can ruin itself if it spends beyond its means." He glances sideways to Mabelle. "Some while back the Lady Mabelle and I were discussing how her luxury would be viewed as negative. However, how many can I lift out of poverty by hiring them, buying their goods, and such... than can the average commoner? Nobles enrich the lives of those under them for the large part, it is part of the expectations and duties of their position."

For Cesare's question he narrows his eyes lightly, some anger. "Considering that I cast a cousin out of my House in similar circumstances and *expected* her to go through the same process, I do have quite the mixed feelings on Natalia's elevation." He, notably, does not speak of his own cousin. "All of us who are noble, who live that life with proper view, are well aware that our actions reflect first upon our own liege and the Faith and the Compact as a whole. We are aware that we can fall short of that and be stripped of everything."

Savio warmly questions from his place at one of the benches, "Ennoblements are all in all still somewhat rare occurrences. Do you have specific complaints as to the individuals in question, Duke Ryhalt?"

"With that attitude," Cesare replies dryly to Ryhalt, "I am terribly fortunate it was not you who walked by me many years ago as an orphan begging on the streets in Setarco." He rises and moves to the bar to obtain another drink.

Bahiya turns her features in Ryhalt's direction, the woman immediately commenting, "Your assumptions of the local nobility suggest your working class are ill-educated and poorly funded. Is it not the case that well-minded businessmen become wealthy merchants that provide work for those beneath them? If your people are likely to squander their coin, does that not suggest your coffers are poorly supplied come tax season? Do your holdings fare poorly? Or are only nobility able to be merchants? It was my understanding that the majority of the merchants here in Arvum were commoners." She gestures with a hand, her other cradling her cup. "Forgive my ignorance on such things; the class and culture of the Arvani are far more different than mine."

Hadrian's lips purse and his eyes dance across the various speakers. His brow wrinkles with a look of consideration at this point or another; some mention, remark, or comment from nearly every speaker seeming to garner that response etched into his very flesh. There's a nod here and nod there; one or two for Raymesin, another for Cesare, then there's one for Ryhalt at the mention of the Duke of House Farshaw casting out his own blood. He favors Isabeau and Mabelle both with some focus, listening and observing while they speak. For his own part, Hadrian seems to be acting as a moderator; quiet until needed. Savio's comment though earns a noticeable twist of the Duke's head and his neck seems to crane about in some peculiar bid to see Lord Savio from a new angle. A mildly amused expression soon begins to drift across Duke Mazetti's features.

Raymesin shrugs at Ryhalt's words. "When yer workin' like a knight - sorry, dog - day-ter-day ter pay the rent an' feed yer family, investin' is for other folks. When yer borrowed an 'undred silver last week an' it's due next week or yer leg's gonna get broke, investin' is 'avin' a future at all. When you ain't gotta worry about the day-to-day, that's when yer got the time an' space ter think on what else you could do. Yeah, if you 'anded out a thousand silver ter a thousand folks in the Lowers, they wouldn't invest like you know it, but most'd use it ter give themselves a future an' that's the truest sort'a investment of all. But it ain't like you know 'ow that feels, yer dukeness."

Eirene lets out an ooh as Ryhalt says 'squander'. "You try saving money or investing when you live payout to payout. I should tell you the Boots lecture, if you haven't heard it before." Then she summarizes, "Take boots, for example. Rich man can afford a good pair of boots for more upfront than a poor man can. Poor man will only buy what he can afford, which ain't nowhere near as good a quality and will fall apart after a while. Down the road, the rich man got boots for one price, but the poor man gotta keep buying boots. After a while he'll pay twice as much and still have wet feet."

Raymesin gestures to Eirene, with a faint smile.

Mabelle shakes her head, "Luxury. I read your whites, Raymesin, I read your love notes of your wife. I was part of a deal between two houses. He was old and already children and I am so removed from the main bloodline of my family that I was expandable. Even now in the city, knowing I am expandable, my personal happiness does not matter. You speak of wealth and I speak of different wealth. There are talents and ambitions on both sides, there are those who do not possess either of those on both sides. I spend all my days try to help those less fortunate by trying to give them tools for a better future and then one of my peers accuses me of spending too much silver in a jewelry shop", she shakes her head again, and focuses, "I stand by my comment that its a matter of expectations on both sides".

Isabeau looks to Raymesin and blinks a few times, "Unfortunately, simply going to the Lowers and handing out silver is often an impossibility and impractical for many reasons. If you have some notion of where some silver might do best good, I would love to meet with you sometime to get your ideas," her tone is sweet, sincere and soft. She turns to look to Hadrian, "Perhaps the discussion is less about neo-nobles being good or bad and more about what constitutes nobility, and if whatever qualities lead to it can be aspired to or worked towards."

Mabelle raises her drink to Isabeau for her concluding remark.

Raymesin eyes Mabelle. "Expendable ain't bein' married off ter someone if yer don't cause a big enough stink on it," he says. "You think it is, 'cause that's what you know, but it ain't. Expendable is bein' sent ter steal somethin' from three stories up 'cause yer an orphan an' no-one'll miss yer if the guard catches yer. Expendable is not seein' something as 'appens in front'a yer nose, 'cause if yer did yer a liability. Expendable is the caravan guard as got 'ired on for this trip, it ain't like 'e's one'a the regular crew. It ain't yer fault as you don't understand what 'expendable' really means, 'cause you ain't never been truly expendable." And then to Isabeau, a nod. "'Ave a word with my wife, she's more up on that'n me."

Bartolomeo, protege of Signora Lauretta Tessere arrives, following Yuri.

Isabeau's remark cast toward Hadrian results in the latter looking back to her with eyes widened only slightly in the way that can only say he's briefly taken aback by the comment paid directly to him. Then he offers a heavy shrug of his shoulders and his hands come up, a smile soon crossing his features as he answers Isabeau's comment, "Once the wagon wheels start turning, it's usually best to step back and see where it goes. In this case? I think it's talking around the same subject. Establishing the general boundaries of the conversation and working its way in". He spares only a brief glance about before he turns his attention back to Isabeau, "I'm not the wagon's driver. All of you are. I'm only here to make certain that the team of horses don't bite each other. Or fornicate. At least not here."

Ondine, a red-breasted sparrowhawk arrives, delivering a message to Raimon before departing.

"Expendable," Cesare adds from where he's leaned up against the bar, with a nod to Raymesin, "is knowing the schedules of the cooks at all the wealthy houses precisely, and which ones won't come after you with the carving knife if they catch you in the garbage looking for scraps from dinner." He returns to his seat with a drink and settles. "Luxury or its lack thereof are irrelevant, in my opinion. I find Ambassador Bahiya's comments particularly piquant. There certainly are wealthy commoner merchants, and to suggest all commoner families lack education or common sense would direly insult them. We speak of the recent spate of ennoblements with a dire tone; I also echo Lord Savio's question. Is there a particular subject of ennoblement whose rise evokes such disdain? We have been faced with a recent series of precipitous events, in the Compact. Does it not follow that those who do extraordinary deeds might be rewarded in an extraordinary way?"

Yuri stepped through the doors that would spill out into the Salon, holding the door open for his attendant to walk on through before he followed suit. The two men ensured to shake out a bit of their cloaks from the weather without. He was content to stand at the back of the room for now, gaze fixated on Hadrian as he spoke though his brow did rise at the last bit. A chuckle was offered before he settled into a bench, idly waiting for the conversation to turn.

Raymesin returns Cesare's nod. "Not so much'a them in th'Lowers," he replies. "An' there's guards ter make sure as yer can't get inter the Wards."

Something Hadrian has said has the Ambassador 'looking' in his direction, beribboned visage tilted towards him, the line at her brow clearing. "You are suggesting, then, that the ideas held by the conversationalists in this room, as stated and given, are held in captivity by them that have them. I find that quite ... clarifying. It is all about what a person is bound to, is it not? By accident of birth or circumstance, you are all chained to your positions in life."

The Eurusi woman twists back in her seat, smoothing a hand over her skirt across her lap, her expression thoughtful. "I crossed an ocean into a land with people still wound in chains, but of a different kind. In Skal'daja, we do not have words for such a concept. 'Neo-noble'. It does not exist."

Mabelle smiles quietly at Bahiya's observation, but her gaze is one of sadness as she considers it, not adding more to the already heated discussion.

"It quite has such a resounding effect, /here/, though, my lady. I would like to think that some of the Compact's citizens are as accommodating as they can be, but the distinction is quite real and a matter of consternation when it comes to the more traditionally minded of the Peerage. This past month's Assembly was quite the magnifying glass on the issue." Yuri remarked, glancing off toward Bahiya with a gentle nod before meet those in the room. He returned to somewhat of a detached posture, leaning back in his bench and setting his legs out leisurely.

"Southport, as Duke Mazetti well knows," Eirene says with a lift of her mug at Hadrian, "is a meritocracy. It's more about who you are and what you can do than who your family is or was. If someone proves themselves worthy of leadership, whether on the battlefield or through service, they are rewarded because it only makes the duchy STRONGER. Doing the same for the compact ALSO keeps us strong. Change and growth, Lagoma's principles. Stasis is the other side of the mirror.

Bahiya's address of himself results in Hadrian's focus returning to her. He considers her words and her questions, his bottom lip curling forward and down. His mouth bows slightly as he appears to be taking it all in and, in some capacity, finds himself increasingly impressed by the point of view. He does lift a hand - his free hand that's not holding his cirrhosis of the liver juice - as he extends a lone finger upward, "That's not what I'm saying?" Hadrian begins, seeming to set the proverbial stage for an upcoming 'but' that never comes, at least not in that exact form, "However, I do understand how you could have reached that conclusion and even find your words very interesting to consider. Anyone here, save for perhaps the most deeply entrenched mind and soul, can say that they possess an opinion that can not be altered by this discussion in some way. If the opinions of others can be influenced? I do not believe that they're held captive in some distant tower, made inaccessible by the outside world". He pauses for a moment, seems to have finished, but adds after only a pregnant pause, "Someone can enter those doors," he acknowledges the Empirical's front doors with a mild wave of his hand before he continues, "with one thought and exit with another, because someone has influenced their views. Whether they'll publicly acknowledge that change? Is where there is greater control and thus captivity. That's my thoughts and opinion on your question, anyway," he says with a quiet chuckle.

Raymesin hehs. "Yer not entirely wrong, Bahiya," he says. "But the silks can always do somethin' as gets their title stripped, or even just say 'I ain't a silk no more'. It 'appens. There's choices - for them, at least. An' sometimes for us commoners, too, but as usual the choices come where th'power is."

Savio slips discreetly out with murmured promises to those nearby to revisit the conversation at the next instance of the event. Rude. These neo-nobles, man!

Mabelle has left the plush stools fronting a golden cypress bar.

Savio has left the tiered benches ringing The Forum.

"In my homeland," Bahiya says, her features turning to Raymesin after listening to Hadrian, "when a noble is to be punished, they are not punished in the manner you say it is done here."

Raimon un-steeples his fingers and nods at Eirene's comments, listens to Hadrian's words, and then segue's into the prior horse - drawn - wagon analogy with: "Changes bring Choices, and Choices beget Changes. Lagoma and Skald are _Co-Charioteers_ in this." Raimon, curious, then follows up by asking Bahiya: "Ambassador, if you would, could you explain these thoughts in more detail? It would certainly behoove those of us gathered to learn of how things are done in other places, with other customs. Perspective, it is said, begets Wisdom."

"The punishment often depends upon the offense and the liege," Hadrian offers back to Bahiya with a simple shrug of his shoulders, likely out of habit. "The late Highlord, Prince Donrai Thrax? May have had a different view of noble punishments than, say," his eyes roam about for a moment as though looking for a face and name to pluck from the crowd. Before finally the Duke remarks back to Bahiya, "Marquis Gentletouch."

Cesare chuckles at 'Marquis Gentletouch,' sipping his drink without further comment at the moment.

Bahiya frowns gently. "Nobles that try to climb higher than is acceptable are stripped of everything and made slaves."

Yuri rose a brow with a soft chuckle, "...behind closed doors, I am sure that some would wish for that cheerful prospect on some of their own peers." He continued to glance between those that were speaking more to the assembled individuals.

Bahiya tilts her head in Yuri's direction, her features quite stoic. "How horrible to consider."

Ryhalt gets completely sidetracked by something his page whispers into his ear, excusing himself for part of the conversation while he deals with it. He returns to the conversation, finding it moved along. He smiles wryly to himself and listens for the time.

"I am not want to speak for the way in which those of the Peerage look to punish their fellow lords and ladies, but there exists a...what is, base desire to see someone punished for the words they say or the slights perhaps incurred. Challenges used to be a fine way of settling grievances, though I've not seen some as of late." Yuri remarked in Bahiya's direction, "I just field a wonder as to whom amongst us, a royal us, mind you, seeks harsher punishment for slights to tradition and title."

Raimon leans forward slightly, wondering: "Ambassador, what precisely constitutes 'trying to climb higher than is acceptable' for the Nobles of your lands? And what similar rules hold, perhaps, for the Commoners?"

Raymesin eyes Yuri, then drinks deep from his tankard before absently wiping the base of it and setting it down on the table, empty.

"That is horrid," Hadrian agrees with a faint nod of his head, "and is precisely why I find it fortunate that I am here, in the Compact. Where we can sit in a room and have this very conversation. Nothing, ever, is perfect but I am happy with at least what the Empirical offers us. An opportunity to acknowledge our differences, but still accept that there are many things we can learn - and hear - from one another". Then Hadrian's focus turns back around to regard Eirene and her comments from only a moment ago surrounding the subject of merit. He offers it a faint dip of his chin, though he offers back some measure of commentary on the subject of merit in and of itself, "Merit is a grand thing. As you've said, it's a cornerstone of Southport. It has limitations, however. Someone born at the lowest point of the world can climb to a high point, but there is still a limit to that merit. Absolute Superior Grand General of the Formidable Armies of Southport one can attain by their own merit, but there is still a limit. It is a duty, a purpose, and a calling. That merit has earned the holder a responsibility, a trust, a purpose, and ultimately something that makes their liege reliant upon their ability. Merit is a great thing, but it does still possess limits and boundaries."

"There are smaller families that seek to improve their station, and it can be done in small ways, such as marriage, or perhaps currying favor with those of grander status. But if a noble seeks to climb too high, to raise themselves beyond the scope of what their peers considered acceptable, those above them can seek out punishment for them they think is going against tradition. But such punishments are not limited to seeking to rise above. It can be given to any they think are in violation of tradition as well." Bahiya again tilts her features at Yuri.

"There has been a case of at least one noble," she says quietly, "who became a slave in Skal'daja. He knew the life, born free as you Arvani are, knew freedom as Skald has given it to you. He then spent several long decades bound in chains, his life stripped, his freedom taken. He endured many things to survive. Horrible things. I would not wish the removal of your autonomy, your right to every inch of your skin, your breath, to eat when you are hungry, to ... piss when you need to ..." She shakes her head. "No. I would not wish that upon any human living."

Bahiya adds, "Commoners are not so, in Skal'daja. Your freedom can be taken away from you with little to no recourse, by yourself or your family. There are, in many ways, those that are enslaved, and those that are not."

Yuri met Raymesin's eyes briefly, an acknowledgement, before passing off a glance to Hadrian. "I would feel some elect their position in life, whether it be newly ennobled, or taking a position such as...aha...Superior Grand General, we'll shorten that to? Finds solace within their new position but perhaps is ill-advised as how to navigate next to their more...traditional of peers. They may say something gauche only to be berated for it behind closed doors. It's something of a concern, to me at least, that some due of patience is not taken with those that find their station entirely new. It should be the vassal to seek guidance from their Duke, Marquis, Duchess, Marquessa; whomever it shall be to present the ennobling."

Cesare's dark gaze turns upon first Hadrian and then Bahiya as they speak, his hands folded around his glass, expression politely neutral. He nods in agreement to Hadrian, although the Duke's closing statement earns a quirk of the brow. "Are those limits and boundaries, then, simply the title and the guaranteed succession of nobility, my lord?" He questions. "Or is there some other intangible responsibility of nobility that we haven't yet discussed, which a meritorious commoner such as Absolute Superior Grand General of the Formidable Armies of Southport could not attain?"

Bahiya's description of the squalid misery of slaves - and the suddenness with which freedom can be taken away - in Skal'daja - causes the slightest of lines to draw itself between his brows. He sips his drink quietly.

Hadrian's attention drifts to Cesare and his lips purse, as though giving the Whisper's question a long and genuine consideration. After a moment he clears his throat and offers an answer, "The meritous General can climb. There are many a noble who has never been any more or any less than what they were born into. There are countless barons who have lived and died barons, up to and including for multiple generations. While I know that doesn't exactly answer your question, esteemed Whisper? I hope that it at least illustrates some very broad strength that merit does possess."

Ryhalt furrows his brow slightly as it seems they have moved on to merit. He nods to Hadrian's points that merit can take one far, but there are still limits to it. Listening to Bahiya's insights he frowns at the plight of those in Skal'daja. "One of those limits is to continue performing at the level which you earned your current accolade. It is not a resting point. It is the ground to stand on for continued excellence at the same position or ambition for more. I think that is one misconception those who misunderstand nobility have. It's not just sitting around or being born to it. Yes, when I had my first child, I appointed her heir, first for stability of the compact, but in the years to come, if she does not meet my expectations, I will choose a different heir. She is only nine. She hasn't proved she's capable of being a Duchess. Should I die, my wishes to this will change, but that is why we put so much importance on growing our noble families and appointing heirs and Voices and ministers and other servants which will grow our Houses." He glances at Cesare. "Like my first cousin I discussed, the one I elevated from common bastard to legitimate cousin and Baron... He impressed me with his merits and in normal circumstances he would have gone no further. Not for friendship alone did I elevate him, though. Nor endearment because I always viewed him as family. But... I had reasons to believe that if I did not promote a man who, had his birth been right, would be Duke Farshaw... it would be more stablizing to the Compact than to let an ambition fester which could cause ruin to not only my house, but my liege's house and thereby weaken the Compact. Elevations need to always be proven before they are brought for that they will be to better the Compact."

Raimon listens to Yuri's suggestion and attempts to concretize it. "As Lord Tessere has posited, there may those, whether newly elevated, from foreign lands, or otherwise in possession of a degree of unfamiliarity. How to remedy this? Perhaps . . . a School?" Raimon wonders, brainstorming out loud. "Not even the staunchest of the conservative Traditionalists could possibly object to us -teaching- the full of our -Traditions- to posterity?" Raimon points out. At least, not 'in good faith.' Raimon concludes: "For -who- judges merit? And by what metric? If new members of the society -are- to be so judged, should they not have fair chance to become acquainted with the -expectations- of what will constitute and comprise Merit?"

"We have one of those," Cesare offers. "It's called Whisper House." He chuckles dryly.

Raimon bows to Cesare: "Certainly that worked for your Graduate: Duke Apollo." Raimon grins.

Raymesin eyes Ryhalt. "So if you get a better heir, does the current one stop bein' 'Lady' an' turn inter a commoner? I reckon as we both know th'answer ter that." And he's looking to Raimon when Cesare answers, and he gestures to Cesare. "Famed for teachin' manners ter fools," he says. "Far an' wide."

Eirene sniggers at the talk of Whispers. "Hey," she says to Raymesin, mock offended, "my kids are gettin' lessons there. Sure as Abyss ain't leaning social grace from me."

"So," Hadrian asks with a face that angles toward Ryhalt and a question is presented, accompanied by an inquisitive tilt of the head, "would you surmise that some - perhaps not all, of course, but some - of these elevations, glorious upliftings, and all the rest would have assuaged concerns better if they had only been better explained to the Peerage? That some elements of the Peerage have become far too accustomed to answering to no one, which has ultimately worked against their efforts on a larger scale? That an explanation or a recounting could have alleviated some of the concerns, rather than the simple perception of 'I can do this, so I will'? Yes, yes, a liege is no way beholden within their own lands, but are you of the opinion that if opponents to neo-nobility were better informed that they would be more accepting?" The question seems to be presented as just that. A question. Not so much a personal opinion.

Yuri nodded slowly as Ryhalt set forth his argument, folding his arms lightly over his chest. His eyes ticked over to Raimon, about to speak before Cesare made the distinction, "And you would be willing to bet there are going to be handful unwilling to allow their prospective 'neo-noble' to not be guided by their own hand. The duty should fall to that of the lord or lady that raises them. It is a vested effort that the newly risen's actions will reflect on she or he that rose them." He glanced off to Hadrian with a cant to his head, "Every explanation could have pushback. It was seen at the Assembly. There are some that find it out of the question entirely, and no amount of merit may seem to dissuade them. Explaining every elevation could start to become a taxing ordeal that could simply be alleviated with a presentation of the reason for elevation to their own High Lord or Lady. To whom the risen shall represent?" His arms parted as he leaned forward now, investing into the conversation.

"Ah, yeah, Apollo," says Raymesin drily. "The man as got ennobled, left the bunch as ennobled 'im, then got made a duke. 'E learned somethin' somewhere, alright."

Eirene stage-whispers to Raymesin, "He's prolly richer than most of the people complaining too."

Isabeau raises a gloved hand to her mouth, giving a soft cough into the hand for a moment before that hand drifts downward and onto her lap, her features remaining serenely smiling.

"Oh, no. Don't mistake my question of accountability for seeking permission. If I were to speak on Duchess Cambria Mazetti's behalf and say 'this person who held the door open for me once, his name is Tedrick, he's going to be our new Baron of House Doorprop'? It's going to happen. That is the right of a liege, afterall. It's a matter of good manners and respect to illustrate the reason for your decision. Does your decision feel indefensible if it comes under scrutiny? Beyond the simple 'I do what I want'? Then it's probably not a good decision. If it's a great decision? Then there will be little trouble in explaining why Baron Tedrick Doorprop will be a great boon to your line of fealty, but also the Faith, Crown, and Compact."

Ryhalt shrugs to Raymesin. "I should hope so, but I will not hesitate to demote her to commoner should her behavior be so shameful that I have no other choice. So, no, her future as a lady is not guaranteed any more than that she will grow to adult is."

He listens seriously to Hadrian's question, but shakes his head. "No, I do not think that mere explanation would be enough. Had I given everyone a whole laundry list of what Emberly had done to offend Farshaw and her vassals, there would still have been some foolish noble house that would have plucked her from her status of commoner and made her lady once more because they happened to believe her plight more than all my reasons. This is because there is too much emotion involved in elevating new nobles these days. False sympathy. Over-rewarded merit, too. Nobility isn't a reward for services rendered and never should be the first reason someone is elevated." He nods to Yuri's point. "Indeed, the one who elevates does have duty to continue teaching and to monitor the progress of a new noble. What was given can be taken away more swiftly."

"And we are happy to provide for them, Lady Eirene, and honored that a medic of your renown has chosen Whisper House to assist in their education," Cesare asides. He mouths 'Baron Tedrick Doorprop' with some amusement. "I think Duke Ryhalt far overestimates the peerage's willingness to offend each other. I have seen the precise opposite in my time as a Whisper; a great deal of, if you will forgive the expression, pussyfooting to avoid offense and maintain the veneer of propriety and gentility regardless of private feeling and failing."

"Well, if a noble 'Ouse ain't willin' ter send someone ter the Whispers for trainin' in 'ow ter noble, that's on their 'eads," shrugs Raymesin, before nodding to Hadrian. His gaze then turns to Ryhalt, and he only shakes his head and reaches for his tankard again. Unfortunately, it seems to be empty; it gets set back down again with a faint grimace.

Yuri lofted his hand toward Ryhalt as he more eloquently set forth what he himself had been trying to say. "Dukes and Marquis' would be entering Assemblies with reams of ledgers to explain away every minutia. Merit is a means to that rise, certainly. It plays a part, maybe. Each family, each fealty even, places trust in these values but it does not necessary make their rise to 'Lord' all but certain." He cast his head then to Cesare with a chuckle, nodding, "That is true." And to Raymesin, "It should be on their head. They are the one vouching for such a rise. You should be expected to be labored with the responsibility of making the new noble painfully aware of what is expected of them. While I do not doubt the capability, and such staunch devotion of Whisper House, I am sure there would be some, if posed with lasting repercussion to title and family name, would see vested interest to guide the neo-noble primed to represent their House."

Bahiya checks perception at easy. Bahiya is successful.

Bahiya hears the 'clunk' of an empty tankard, and makes a few guesses. "Ray. Let me buy you another drink, as I have Eirene's," she offers, tilting her head.

Raymesin shakes his head at Bahiya's offer. "Thanks," he says, "But I gotta get back 'ome after this, an' where I live don't come with guards. Keeps me on my toes."

Ryhalt looks thoughtfully at Cesare. "The Champions and Whisper House and House Swords exist for reasons that there is a great deal of offense, but we, for the large part, do not want to bring war to the compact, which would be the result if we did not allow the silk of politics to soften us. But, yes, many tomes such feelings are kept hidden. As long as they do not boil over to disaster, there is nothing wrong with it." He nods to Raymesin's point. "Exactly. If a liege has a vassal that is undermining the Compact and they do nothing about that, that is a dishonor and ought to be addressed. It isn't just the neonoble that has to deal with the fact they were elevated." He also nods to Yuri. "All of us would be stronger if more took advantage of those services."

Isabeau exchanges a few words with Morgana before beginning to gather herself up to her feet, taking a swift, but quiet leave of the discussion with a regretful wave to Hadrian.

Isabeau has left the scattered chairs in various elegant styles.

"Those ledgers could provide a step in the right direction. There is regularly a mentality of 'all or nothing' and 'now or never' held by; I would say some, but I feel it's far too common of late. Rarely are small steps accepted in favor of bold leaps. Yet, that's precisely what has lead to this discussion," Hadrian explains without passion or heat, but instead a tone that speaks of detached curiosity. He spares a glance throughout the Empirical before his shoulders rise and fall with another shrug and he continues, "Dukes and Barons and Marquessa and Countess would be stepping forward with their cart of ledgers to lay down a stone in the path to change. When instead they could just step forward and inform their Peers of their decision. One seems healthier than the other, to me". He lifts a hand to wave to the daparting Duchess Isabeau Telmar, though.

After a moment Hadrian adds, "And to be clear? I do not disagree that the one who elevates another? Should be held to some account for the actions of those they uplift. As with everything, there are limitations and circumstances therein? But overall, yes, I do agree."

Raimon queries: "What is the fundamental problem we are attempting to solve? To decide upon a slate criteria? To justify existing elevations? To question the methods, moving from fiat to a more empirical assessment of merit?" Raimon sits for a while, thinking, thoughtfully scraping at the stubble of his chin with the back of the thumb of his gloved right hand. It's hard to -solve- a problem, if it's not been specified precisely. 'Mission, then action.' But perhaps that's just his military training speaking.

"It sounds as though the overall consensus is that a great deal of justification is needed for ennoblement," Cesare murmurs, tapping his fingers on his glass. "And that at least some dissatisfaction stems from the fact that many of the ennoblements which are proclaimed are too vague on what acts of service those being ennobled have performed to justify such extreme actions. Perhaps this is something which should be addressed at the Assembly of Peers in the future, to give a better understanding of what peers consider worthy of ennoblement. Mm?"

Ryhalt scratches at his sidewhisker thoughtfully as he considers Hadrian's point. "That need not be necessary when there has been sufficient time for elevation. Many ought to have heard of the person's exploits and be able to judge that there is cause without needing to see ledgers of proof through the years. When both are absent? Yes, that should go squarely on the shoulders of the person that wants to elevate another. Close eyes, indeed, should go onto that pair in the future. If there are troubles from the neonoble and their liege also doesn't do anything... All can see it was done for the wrong reasons." He glances to Raimon and lifts his eyebrows lightly. "These don't really 'solve' problems. We're here to debate and, perhaps, go away with insight to the other side. That can bring change. And, I hope it does bring change in this, as, it is clear there is too much strife over this of late and none of us want to come to war over it. We have too many enemies outside."

Raymesin nods to Cesare. "I mean, if it's non-'uman blood as makes a silk, the silks should be fallin' all over themselves ter ennoble every 'alf-elf they can turn up," he points out. "Not ter mention all the rest." And then a nod to Ryhalt. "Yer not wrong there. An' I'm sure there's plenty'a folks outside the Compact'd just /love/ ter see us at each other's throats some more."

Eirene grunts at Raymesin's last point. "And on that, I should go see about my trainees." She rises and mutter something to her corner of the assembly before heading out.

"Well said, esteemed Whisper," Hadrian answers back at Cesare after the Whisper succinctly summarizes the intent behind his words. He lifts his glass, but does not drink. He simply shrugs a lone shoulder before the Duke remarks, "Will it *resolve* the problem? No, no, no. Of course not. Will it be a step in the right direction? Will it help? Is anyone *truly* losing anything? No. If a liege feels their choice is right? So be it. They'll do it anyway, whether or not they at least make a show of presenting their reasoning. It does however take a simple, easy-to-accomplish step toward providing a concession to those who would be in direct opposition to the act by at least showing a mediocre attempt at mutual respect. It's not permission that's being sought. It's simply being neighbourly."

Hadrian pauses for a moment as he nods toward Ryhalt, a smile tugging at one corner of Duke Mazetti's mouth, "I do believe the opposite viewpoint's primary concern is a deceptively simple one. 'stop ennobling people for dumb ass reasons'."

Yuri nodded lightly toward Cesare's comment, passing a glance off to Ryhalt and Raimon, before settling to Raymesin's comment as Eirene rose. Hadrian's last point caused a heavy chuckle to come forth, "I think that will silence itself when actual reason is brought forth. It mainly is to quell that silent majority that we only ever do see at Assembly, no?"

Eirene has left the low-rising couches flanking a carved table.

Carissa, a Southport bodyguard, Planchet the Lycene maggiordome leave, following Eirene.

"Oh, I /hear/ them a great deal," Cesare replies with a shrug. "If you listen at the City Center, in the markets and brokerage; particularly if you aren't /known/ to be a noble, you will often hear a great variety of opinions expressed. Whisper House's officially politically neutral position probably also helps." He dips his chin, lifting his glass in a return toast to Hadrian.

Peaches, a lovely white war filly with a peach saddle, Deliverance, an albino falcon, Stormy, a silvery gray hunting hound, Rascal, a hyper terrier, Rosalie, a lady in waiting arrive, following Reese.

Ryhalt laughs at Hadrian's phrasing of those opposed. "I would not reduce it to such terms as that misrepresents the concerns we have to new elevations. That isn't the base contention, no." Glancing to Yuri, he looks thoughtful. "Before elevating anyone there is expectation that there has been approval sought and granted. Waiting for the Assembly for announcing rather than doing so by proclamation, which often does have many reasons listed, is more because it is a formality to agree. After all, if you disagree with someone being elevated during an Assembly, you are publicly stating that you disagree with the Faith and Crown. Not an enviable position."

Peaches, a lovely white war filly with a peach saddle, Deliverance, an albino falcon, Stormy, a silvery gray hunting hound, Rascal, a hyper terrier, Rosalie, a lady in waiting leave, following Reese.

"Which is exactly why I put forth the idea that doing something as simple as presenting reasoning? May resolve a lot... a *lot*... of issues. Especially if the reasoning is not, in fact," Hadrian answers with a nod of his head provided to Yuri. He then takes a moment to gathering the gathering, his glass of wine sipped while doing so. After the glass lowers again, Hadrian's head tilts aside and a question is presented, "Do we have any further avenues that we wish to explore this evening? This conversation is thoroughly complicated. We've only scratched the surface to be sure. But I understand that conversations do usually ebb and flow, begin and end; even if there's more to explore."

Hadrian goes quiet though as Ryhalt speaks and he takes a moment to consider Ryhalt's words. He nods along. He even makes that 'huh, hadn't thought about that' face before he comments along those very lines, "You know, I appreciate your pointing that out. I hadn't considered the Assembly versus non-Assembly point before. It's a good point to make, because I can see how that could put those who would have objections - or even just disfavor to express - to feel as though they've been silenced from voicing something as simple as *concern*."

Soot, a gray foxhound puppy, 2 Iron Guardsmen, Violet, a shopkeeper, Briar, a young Oakhaven black and tan bloodhound, 2 Keaton Huntsmen arrive, following Petal.

"No, hardly. I more posit that some of the peers that attend are probably hearing such ennoblement for the first time. And it gives them rise to voice concerns that make them out to be a public nuisance in the middle of the assembly. Surely, there are other times to call attention to yourself, or a better way to voice disdain but I see the allure of wanting to be a talking point of the evening or afternoon." Yuri remarked, glancing from Ryhalt then to Hadrian as the thoughts were all considered into one large thought-pot.

Bahiya is given a quiet murmur from the Redrain guardswoman that has lingered behind her during the duration of the meeting. The Ambassador stands with grace and gives Hadrian a deep bow. Or, rather, she does, an in his general direction. "I have been informed you are our host, Duke Hadrian of House Mazetti. I thank you for your generosity of time." She turns to the general direction of the room and gives another bow. "And I thank you all for this discussion. It was quite interesting."

She takes the guardswoman's arm shortly after, and makes her careful exit.

Bahiya has left the low-rising couches flanking a carved table.

2 Redrain Guards leaves, following Bahiya.

Raymesin, left all alone in his corner of the room, lounges on his seat and makes it look comfortable.

"See, that is a problem." Ryhalt nods to Yuri. "That has been the case of late on some, I am sure. But, elevating someone that is a surprise to everyone is... sneaky?" He smiles wryly and shrugs, knowing that isn't the best term for all cases. "Elevating anyone to neonoble should not be done without much discussion with other peers and the Faith. There should be an idea that it is in the works, even if all the reasoning hasn't been brought forth. Sure, it may not be everyone's business that so-and-so is being considered for nobility, but if I think that rising someone to nobility may cause a problem for another House, I will be certain to discuss it with them prior. Elevating someone as a pointed insult to someone else is vulgar." He nods to Hadrian. "Indeed. The proper time for addressing potential concerns is before, so those can be addressed in time, rather than be a continual fester on relations. It takes years for them to prove themselves anyway, that just makes the bar for gaining such trust that much higher. Why do that to someone you are elevating?" He shrugs.

Cesare tilts his head, considering. "A valid point," he acknowledges. "There was enough disruption at the Assembly already. Perhaps a different sort of gathering, then, but - I'm afraid my time is up as well. I've got to prepare for other duties." He rises and sweeps into a low, effortless bow which favors each of the Salon's occupants. "Duke Hadrian, thank you once again for hosting such a scintillating discussion. I do always look forward to your events."

Yuri nodded toward Ryhalt's point, raising his brow at the prospect of another type of assembly of peers, "It's a prospering thought. Though, perhaps something on a case by case basis when all preparations have been met to their inroads? It should not be a whimsical thing, for sure."

"And you for coming, Whisper Cesare," Hadrian offers back with a smile that reaches to his eyes and practically envelopes a viewer into a warm, cozy hug. Soon enough Hadrian's rising up to his feet and his glass of wine is presented to the gathering as he speaks, "I do believe we've reached the conclusion of the formal discussion of this topic for the day. Do feel free to remain and continue it if it pleases you, but I do believe that I will personally retire for the evening. Thank you... thank you, thank you... all for coming and participating in this discussion on this particular topic. You all conducted yourselves admirably and I am proud of the Salon on this day". He sips from his glass of wine, spares a glance to Luigi, and with a nod begins to make his departure. Bound for the atrium and, presumably, his office beyond.

Dolente, a mourning dove, Dolce, a collared dove leave, following Cesare.

Yuri glanced off to Hadrian thoughtfully, bowing his head gently, "This was an interesting and revealing discussion, for sure, Duke Mazetti. Even if I did happen to wander in toward the end! I may find myself down to the Salon upon more occasion should you find yourself becoming willing proctor again." He was slow to rise before twisting his torso to and fro with a mild crack, then taking to a stand and offering a respectful bow; and toward Ryhalt and Raymesin to whom he had been sharing words.

"Thank you for hosting Duke Hadrian and the Salon." Ryhalt smiles as the conversation comes to an end for the time. "I ought to get some work done, too, but if any would wish to continue at some time, I would be happy to. Just write or such." He smiles and inclines his head respectfully to those still here before he heads on his way.

Raymesin offers a nod to the departing Hadrian, then offers another to Yuri and a third to Petal before rising smoothly to his feet with a care for his head and the ceiling. "Were an interestin' chat," he says. "Thanks, folks."

Ryhalt has left the plush stools fronting a golden cypress bar.