[Arman/Ravi] - checking up on the Guard

[knitperlkill]

Who:
Arman
Ravindra
When: Day after Arman's post to Ishmael and Katrin.
Where: The Guard station
Rating & Warnings: G.

Arman drops by the station to check up on the Guard. Ravi is nervous. I shouldn't even need to say that.



He hated that he felt so wrung out, waiting for his father's answer to his question. He did not quite know what he could do with the Guard, but that was the point of going. If anyone was to be affected by what was going on, it would be the Guard, caught on both sides of the struggle. The Duchess' permission had been granted easily enough, though he could not assume she did not have her reasons for letting him go.

In the end, he'd gotten their permission. Without advance warning, Arman arrived at the station with one of the Royal Guard at his side. He refused more, never having been comfortable with either having authority or showing it off, and not wanting to be more of a nuisance than he would initially (so he hoped) be at the station.

He could only imagine what things had been like given the reaction he caused when he was received. He had been careful to choose his guard, a man by the name of Seneschal, based on his familiarity with the station, having been part of it himself some years ago. Kratochvil would have been better, but too suspicious, too soon. The lucky man would simply have to put up with Sevda instead. The rest of the guards at the station that noticed his entrance stood at attention until he gave a short nod, letting them get back to their duties, and the one that seemed to be highest in command currently there approached him. The Lieutenent was out, but Sergeant Naran was available, if he wished? Arman tried to keep back a self-directed smirk and conceded.

In the meantime, he waited, a lanky young man that stood apart because of his bearing and his guard, the cut of his clothes. But his expression seemed relaxed, almost bored, and his face was ordinary, nothing at all regal about it.

The news that Prince Arman had showed up at the station was...well, it was terrifying, to put it bluntly. Ravi had fond memories of humouring the prince when he'd show up as a child, but now, after Grey's death and what Princess Sevda had written the night before, having the crown prince show up unannounced to ask for him felt like a bad portent. It already seemed as though he was only one wrong word to the wrong person from losing his head, and as he walked out to meet Arman he couldn't help but think that wrong word had already been unknowingly uttered.

Ravi was good at keeping calm, though, despite the trepidation and rising panic. He didn't keep Arman waiting, because that would just make everything worse, and bowed to him as was expected. "Your highness," he said by way of greeting. "What brings you here?"

Seeing the Sergeant approach was a bit of an amusement, despite his own floundering feelings and second guessing. He recalled the man being so much taller. Well, five years did that to a person, he supposed. It seemed a long time ago since last he was here, though five years was barely anything, he knew. "Sergeant," he said, giving a nod of his head in acknowledgement. He smiled slightly. Anything more was reserved for those closest to him, a regretful few, but that was hardly his concern right now.

"Pardon my intrusion," he continued, his voice brisk, but friendly. "I have come on some small business, but first, let me extend my condolences. Though Sergeant Grey was close to us, as well you know, he maintained ties here as well. I hope all is well here?"

Though there was that friendliness, there seemed something missing, or at best hidden. It wouldn't have been wrong of Ravi at all to be suspicious. After all, Arman was, too.

"If we might speak in private, Sergeant," he added. It all sounded so calm, so easy, but his discomfort of having so many people about, particularly ones he didn't know, had him almost tapping his hand at his side out of nervousness. Rigid training kept that from happening so openly, thank Cita.

Okay, it didn't sound like he was about to get hauled off for treason, but it definitely still felt like there was something going on just under the surface of Arman's friendly tone. Ravi's tone didn't match the friendliness, but it was neutral; it didn't let on to his suspicions. "We mourn, your highness, but life continues."

Ravi was not sure he wanted to speak in private. Arman had always seemed like a good kid, but who knew what he'd developed into in the past five years, with the duchess a constant presence. He half expected to get stabbed in the back the instant they were out of sight of Ravi's compatriots. (He was wearing his armour, he told himself, so that would take some doing. He was probably safe from that.)

"Of course, your highness. Follow me." Ravi led him deeper into the station, to the duty-commander's office (and tried not to keep glancing over his shoulder as they walked).

It didn't feel right, sitting behind a desk while the prince stood, so Ravi stopped beside it, one hand on the wood, his eyes on the young man in front of him. (Should he sit, though? Was that expected? Arman was going to kill him just for getting the protocol wrong aaaauuuugh.) He waited for Arman to speak.

If it weren't for Sevda's constant presence, he might have been offended at the lack of returned friendliness. He did seem to recall the sergeant being a sterner sort, and the past month had not been kind to him. For better or for worse, Arman was too forgiving for his own good. "Indeed it does."

He followed behind the man, Seneschal walking a short distance behind, giving brief nods of greeting to any of those passing that they met. Many of them had to double-take due to not having recognized the prince at first glance. Arman didn't mind- it made their progression into the station easier.

Once there, Arman turned to the guard. "Wait outside, Seneschal," he said quietly, and the man nodded, once to Arman, then again to Ravindra, and took up patrol outside the office. Seemingly unconcerned with having left his guard outside, Arman stepped in and let the man shut the door behind them.

"If you don't mind," Arman said, relieving Ravi of the burden of decision-making and sat down himself. Following protocol wasn't a bad thing, sometimes- it was one less course of action to question.

"It is good to see you again, Sergeant, though I wish it were under better circumstances. My sister, the Princess Sevda, is quite, ah... distraught over the events. She was quite close to Sergeant Grey. When I spoke with her last, I worried she might... cause some trouble. But I see everyone's heads attached so far, which is good."

Ravi still felt awkward sitting, even though the prince did it first. It didn't feel right for him to be the one behind the desk when he was talking to somebody of higher station than he was. So he was going to just stay standing until Arman indicated that he should sit.

At least now, it seemed, he could be fairly comfortable in the knowledge that Arman was probably not going to get up and stab him. His response was friendly enough, now that they were in private. "It is good to see you, as well. You've grown." Was that a stupid thing to say to the prince? Augh. It probably was. Never mind that.

His next words he calculated very carefully. There was a notable pause before his reply. "The news surprised us all. No one could believe that Grey would attack the duchess. He always seemed so loyal."

Arman smiled again, a bit less distant this time, at the comment. To banter about it would hardly be proper, so he kept his rejoinder to himself. Though they had often resulted in his being in trouble, he had fond memories of the Guard's station. His father and the royal guards, not so much, as they had often involved discovering he was missing and then having to find him, only to have one of the city guards alert them or bring him home. It was one of the few places he hadn't managed to drag Lusine.

His expression he allowed to be slightly troubled, a fraction of what he truly felt. "Yes... yes, you are not alone in that. We had just returned from Tartessos, a rather uneventful trip, and even looking back I cannot understand it." Well, in terms of being attacked, if not personal family drama. He was more than happy to put that behind him. "The news is still a surprise, if I may be honest."

He disliked this sort of conversation. He should have been used to it, given it was about ninety percent of any conversation he had, but that seemed a good enough reason to detest it. Still, it had to be done.

"And it is partly why I am here today. Officially, I am on business in stead of the Duchess, in terms of your investigations... external and internal." But unofficially...? "I will do my best not to get in the way of things, Sergeant, but I would appreciate your openness. I cannot be of much use otherwise," he said, hoping that last bit would make some sense to Ravi.

"Ah..." Not a good noise; he immediately regretted letting it escape. He didn't want Arman to be here on the duchess's behalf. Especially not where the investigations were concerned. Too much treason running around, and not just the things Ravi himself whispered behind closed doors with Damica. He was certain the other guardsmen were talking, too. He caught the quick hushes and anxious stares when he walked into a room. Nobody wanted their sergeant to catch them talking treason.

He was going to get fidgety if he didn't start moving. He walked over and sat in his chair and started picking at the seams of the cushion on the armrest, which, hopefully, Arman wouldn't notice from where he sat. It was obvious enough that he was nervous; there was no use in trying to pretend those signs of it hadn't escaped. He took a deep breath, let it out. "We are investigating what happened with Grey. Everyone wants answers. Even your sister, she wrote to ask the Guard what we knew of it."

"She did?" he asked, though he didn't seem that surprised. He could see Ravi was nervous, and felt bad, but relieved in a way, as well. He could only hope his choices did not lead him down the wrong paths as well. "My apologies. While I think she may have said something regardless, I did... encourage her to ask questions. She did so over the ledgers, I assume."

He tapped his fingers once on the armrest. "Sergeant Ravindra, may I take a look at what she wrote?"

...That was something of a relief to hear, that Arman had encouraged Sevda to seek her own answers. Ravi did not dare hope that he also distrusted the duchess, but that he seemed not to believe her blindly was heartening.

"She did," he answered. It seemed safe enough to show him Sevda's post. Ravi pulled his ledger over from the edge of the desk and flipped through it for her entry. As far as he could see, no one had answered it--he most certainly wasn't going to--but they'd probably just filtered to her directly.

He slid the book across the desk to the prince, open to the appropriate page.

He hid the relief on his face when Ravindra acquiesced and took the book from him when it was offered, patiently waiting for him to find the page. He looked much more comfortable with a book in his hands, and leaned back with it, careful not to flip the page as he settled back to read.

After a brief moment, partway in he covered his mouth with his hand, looking partly shocked, partly amused, keeping back either a curse or a laugh: it was hard to tell. Finishing, he glanced to see if indeed no one had answered, saw nothing, and shut it before he gave the book back to Ravindra, pressing his lips together, suppressing his first reaction. "Yes, that is... certainly my sister's writing. I wish I could apologize on her behalf for any trouble she's caused, but ..." he let that trail. He considered what he'd read. "Do you know if anyone has answered? Or how they would have?" He could only imagine what replies her post might have prompted.

"It is unfortunate, you see. She is very headstrong, a very fierce young girl, but untempered and, in some cases, unquestioning. Sergeant Grey's death, I feared, would lead her to... hasty conclusions. It among other things. If anyone answered her, I would like to know."

He waited with bated breath as Arman read the entry, and was immensely relieved when the prince closed the ledger and handed it back without flipping the page. He set the ledger on the desk, resting one hand over it in a way that was subtly possessive, a warning that any attempt to take it would be met with resistance.

"I don't know," he answered. "No one has told me if they wrote back, or what they said."

But how would they have answered, hypothetically? Ravi knew the sort of dissent going around in the ranks. He could hazard a guess. "If I had to say, I think they would have..." He hesitated, uncertain how much was actually safe to say. "...I think...they would have said that they do not believe Sergeant Grey attacked the duchess at all."

Arman settled back in the chair instead, hands clasped in front of him. It would have been more than a little awkward if he'd caught sight of Diya's name in there, after all, so thank Cita for all involved most of his curiousity was sated and his propriety kept him from attempted peeking.

Hands still clasped in front of him, Arman looked at him a long moment, then reached a hand up to press hard to his forehead before it went back into his hair, as though the pull would help him sort his thoughts. The Guard believed as he did, then. Not that he had much to back it up- only that he knew his Aunt well enough to believe the worst of her in such a situation. It would be so tempting to take out one of his cigarettes, but he somehow managed to keep his fingers from wandering to the tin he kept them in.

"On what basis, Sergeant Naran?" he asked, insistence in his voice, but without condemnation.

He looked back at the prince, tapping his fingers on the cover of his ledger. This felt very dangerous. He wished he knew where Arman's loyalty lay, so he could know how openly he was allowed to speak. It was obvious that the long pauses before Ravi spoke were him weighing his words, but he didn't care. He'd rather Arman know he spoke carefully than say something he shouldn't.

"It is difficult to believe that Sergeant Grey would have waited this long, if killing the duchess was his plan," he said, after stilling his fingers because it had to be at least a little rude to fidget like that while talking to the prince. "And, it is also difficult to believe that if killing her was his intent, that he would have failed."

Arman covered his mouth with his hand, elbow on the armrest, listening to this explanation and feeling that it had been, at least in part, what he had been feeling. His aunt was formidible, true. But he had read of lions, had heard talk of them from one who had seen. Such a creature, with human intelligence behind that raw power, should have been unstoppable with a surprise attack.

"Unless there was a trick involved," he muttered, more to himself than to Ravi, though certainly not excluding him.

How open could he be? That was his dilemma. But Ravi had shared something that could get him into serious trouble, should he choose to take it that way. And he did not.

"When I first came... I said I was here on business for the Duchess. That is true. It is the official reason I am here. Unofficially, I am here for my own reasons." He spoke it calmly, looked calm, but inwardly years of panic were trying to lodge themselves in his throat. "I simply don't know yet to what ends."

That didn't completely assuage his fears, but at least it told him that Arman wasn't about to haul him off to an execution at the drop of a hat. Still, it was worrisome for him to officially be here on behalf of the duchess. There was another pause, another weighing of his words, before Ravi said, "If you wish to discover the truth of Sergeant Grey's death, I do not believe you will find it here." If Arman read it correctly, it was, "The duchess is lying outright." If he reacted harshly to that, Ravi could always pretend that wasn't what he'd meant.

Arman pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded once. He did not think he would. Only his aunt, after all, knew the truth. Everything else was conjecture. But if it had been something of the sort, that would mean... she'd had to have known beforehand. Someone had to have told her.

"I understand, Sergeant Naran." He looked up again, trying not to look as tired as he felt, though he wasn't sure if he succeeded or not. "Thank you, regardless. As you might imagine, this is a delicate situation, for my family as much as anyone. If anything pertinent comes to your attention, please, inform me of it." Please. Hardly a word that should pass the lips of someone of his station, but there you had it. "I find myself without... reliable people to speak with, on such matters."

Yes, that included his father. He had no idea what his intentions were now, and that did not seem something one simply asked. Not yet. His father was an excellent politician, had seemed to be in his earlier gives, from what he'd read, and in the absence of the Duchess he could believe it. So why, with something so important, was he falling short? Unless he meant to?

A change of topic for now, perhaps, while he tried to sort through those thoughts. "Your fellow guards, Sergeant. I hope you have been diligent in taking care of any problems?" In other words, Others. "I would hate to see a repeat of Sergeant Grey. I'm sure you would like to avoid the same." Please, oh please, don't take that the wrong way, Ravi.

'Please.' Was that just to be polite? No, Arman was certainly weighing his words just as carefully as Ravi was. Still, Ravi didn't want to take the jump to speaking openly, even though it sounded like Arman was encouraging him to.

'I'm sure you would like to avoid the same' didn't make him feel any better about it, either. He took a shallow breath, letting his hand slide from the desk to his lap. "I would hate to see a repeat as well," he answered. "The duchess already has made it clear that she will hold Lieutenant Bertrand and myself personally responsible if she discovers another Other within the Guard."

That didn't make Arman feel any better, but given Ravindra had been the one to make the announcement of Myron's killer... had there been a lie in that, as well? It would certainly shift the blame from her, with few people to trace it back to her. That did not sit well with him, though he couldn't recall the last time something had.

No, it was selfish to try and get the man to speak more openly. The worst was that he wasn't quite sure what he wanted out of this, only that he knew there was a war brewing, and the Guard and the people of Tyrol would be the ones caught in the middle.

"I assume such orders have also been given over the ledgers." They really were more trouble than they let on to be, weren't they? He paid attention to his, though not as much as he should, he warranted. "Unfortunately, I do not know how far my authority extends in such a manner. Make certain your women and men are safe, all of them. That is the best advice I can offer you, though I am certain you have seen to it as best you could already."

Guards were a close bunch. He'd learned that much on his trip out of the city.

"I have." Though the best he could do was not great, he felt. He had a feeling that some of his men and women were going to do some really stupid things in the coming days and he wouldn't be able to protect them. It was not a good feeling.

"Yes, the duchess has given us orders over the ledgers." A pause. He'd already told the king this much, telling the prince couldn't hurt, could it? "She ordered us," him, "to declare Tamás Rohály guilty of Lord Myron's murder, despite a lack of evidence. But I also consulted with the king over the ledgers and was ordered to continue investigating in secret."

Arman looked visibly relieved, as though that bit of information was new to him. Which it was. He had an idea of what his father's trust level was with him. It was about at the same level of everything else. But his father was not completely blind to things, which a part of him had been fearing. He would take what small things he could from him as a sign he wasn't totally disinterested and intimidated.

"There is a great deal going on now, so much so that to think there are... people that would conceal the truth of matters so important disturbs me. That riot was no little thing, as well you know. We have had many petitions for monetary aid from businesses who must repair their property and refresh their resources, and those people had both fear and anger in them. And that was only over one Other. How would your Guard handle something bigger?"

Not an encouraging thing to hear. Ravi was keeping so many secrets from the crown right now. SO MANY. Thank all the gods that Arman couldn't read his thoughts.

The question was not encouraging, either. Ravi glanced away (no, that was rude, this was the prince, eye contact), and back. "Truthfully, your highness, I do not know if we could. The political situation in Tyrol right now is very...complicated. Everyone is not on the same side of it, even the Guard has its split."

Well hey, Arman's crown prince and he's questioning the authority over him, too, so wanna share a paddle in that boat or yours, Ravi? :D)-\

"The Guard will have to pull together, then, because if anything happens- and I hope nothing does- the Guard will be the greatest affected besides the citizens of Tyrol themselves." Did revolution really need to happen to change things in Tyrol? What needed changing? The only one who spoke to him of these things was his aunt, but what of his father? Did he think revolution was necessary? Or was it simply a way in which to overcome the Duchess?

Simply. If only. For now, he just wanted to explore the possibilities that included him keeping his head.

"Report to me if anything comes up, Sergeant Naran, even if it must also include the Duchess or the King. Seperately. I will not presume to think I will be of much aid in the investigations, but I will give you whatever else aid I may that you would require."

He gave a nod. He knew well enough; the Guard was already caught in the middle of the city's politics, to its detriment. He considered the prince's words--he really wanted to trust Arman, he really did. The prince was trying to reach out to him. Ravi needed to give him something to work with.

"I am concerned that the Guard is being set up," by the duchess, "as a scapegoat if something goes wrong," he admitted. "That is the main reason I do not know how well we could pull together if something happened. I believe..." He paused. It was alright to admit this, wasn't it? It wasn't an outright accusation of anybody in particular, even if he had a good idea of who was behind it. "I believe that a human is behind Myron's murder, trying to create animosity against Others. And, as you have seen already, the Guard has been forced to publicly call the case closed. If another murder happens like Myron's, we will hold the blame for it."

His hands he felt cold. He rubbed them nervously together, not a very suspicious motion in itself. He made the nervous gesture look quite leisurely actually, but the knot of worry in his stomach grew tighter. He did not know if he could believe that his aunt had been party to Myron's death- that would be too convenient, but he could not deny the possibility at this point. Her hatred of Others was unparalleled. He would know. She fed as much to him whenever she thought he was most receptive to such thoughts. And he saw it in Sevda, had seen it only the night before. He hadn't quite known what he'd been working himself up to, had simply been getting her to talk, but it had become a little clearer to him.

"I cannot speak for anyone else in my family," he said slowly, "but my own interests lie in avoiding conflict. I cannot deny that I see the upsides to one, however, especially if it should escalate into casualties. I have been looking over records, and if we continue to bring in Others at the rate we have been, the winter will be hard. It will not be just the grounds that will see famine. I can already foresee taxes increasing even before the frost sets in again. But that is trading one problem for another, and we are no longer in a position to simply ask the Others to leave, or the Golden Hour to stop." But it was obvious the citizens of Tyrol grew restless- he could only imagine how the Citadel felt. He was tempted to go and speak with someone there, as well. But who?

When next he spoke, it was soft, inaudible to others. "Sergeant, do not doubt my words. I love my aunt. She has protected us and raised us, and in her way guided us. As the only children beneath her, she wishes only what is best for us. I do not doubt this in the least." He covered his mouth briefly. "...but I fear she makes us dependent on her. I do not know or mean to insult the competence of Kratochvil, but he is no Grey." The best for them, seen through the viewpoint of what would in turn be best for her. She had managed it to some degree through his father. He could only hope to avoid a smiliar fate.

Oh, that wasn't something he wanted to hear. There would be riots, probably, and thefts, definitely. If it got bad enough, that alone could start up a civil war. Ravi made a mental note to inform his men of that and see what could be done to prepare for it. Not much, but some added security in the right places would go a long way.

"He is not," Ravi agreed. Kratochvil stood a good chance of getting himself killed simply by being Kratochvil. Ravi wasn't on the best of terms with the man, but he did worry.

He thought for a moment on Arman's words. He looked away, his eyes falling on the edge of the desk to Arman's left. "The duchess, I think, has...strong ideas, about what is best for 'us.' For you, and for Tyrol. And she will sacrifice anyone she needs to, to make her plans happen." Sergeant Grey, himself, the entire Guard... His gaze returned to the prince's face, though not meeting his eyes this time. "I hope that a winter famine is the least of our worries, your highness."

Perhaps he would speak with Kratochvil later, or tomorrow. He had to consider visiting other places, take stock somehow of how they were faring. He considered the Cancellarius Joshua Powell at the Citadel. The man had a habit of being overbearingly father-like, or what he assumed to be father-like, but he could provide him with some information that would be harder to get. He could ask to see the Occia, but he didn't know if it would be appropriate. She was a kind girl, but also Cita's Bride, and thus he could not assume to approach her so casually.

As for the Hour, he was not as sure who he could speak with there, but something would come to mind. He was not unfamiliar with the Hour, and people were much less guarded with some information than in other places. There was probably someone that wouldn't mind telling him what had been going on from their perspective.

The problem was what to do with all of the information he garnered.

His attention returned to Ravindra, still rubbing at his lower lip. He could not disagree with that. He sighed a little, leaning back in the chair again a moment. "And I hope a winter famine is the most of my worries." He reached up, pulling his hand through his hair again. He at least felt justified in being guarded against his aunt. "Thank you, Sergeant Naran. I will let you return to your duties. What has been spoken here will stay here." He stood then. "I will let you know of anything pertinent to your myriad investigations. I hope you will return the favour."

The reassurance that nothing they'd said would leave the room was much welcome. He would breathe a sigh of relief for that once the prince was gone.

Ravi stood when Arman did, because that was what you were supposed to do, wasn't it?, and gave him a short, respectful bow. "Thank you, your highness. I will be sure to keep you informed, and please, feel free to come by and speak with me any time." (But please, don't actually, it was so nerve-wracking.)