THE AFFAIRS OF KAITAIN: A Role-Play of Dune

EmpressJosephine

Mistress of Role-Plays
Joined
Aug 9, 2014
Posts
14,652
THE AFFAIRS OF KAITAIN
A Role-Play of Dune

attachment.php




Prologue



PLEASE READ:

It is the year 10,148 AG. The aging Elrood Corrino IX sits upon the Golden Lion Throne of the Galactic Padishah Empire. Members and agents of other noble houses, like Atreides or Harkonnen, surround him seeking favor and advantage.

If you think you have what it takes to survive, or even prevail in, the intrigues and affairs of the Imperial capital, then the planet Kaitain is the place for you!



If You Are NOT Currently Writing in this “Affairs of Kaitain” Thread

This thread is not open to everyone, but it is not necessarily closed to anyone.

Please do not post in this thread unless you have permission from me, the Empress Josephine, or my partner in this venture, JawnKarTurr.

Read the first post or two to get a feeling for the style and quality of writing to decide if you would fit in. If you like it, then read the rest of the thread so you are familiar with the story so far.

If you would like to write in The Affairs of Kaitain, then please contact me here or JawnKarTurr here. We look forward to receiving your messages.

If you simply want to comment on this story for all to see, you may do so on the OOC for The Affairs of Kaitain.




If You ARE Currently Writing in this “Affairs of Kaitain” Thread


The founding members of this story thread intend and hope to keep the tale entirely within the canon of Frank Herbert’s wonderful and elaborate Dune universe. The idea is that our story could actually have happened, unrecorded until now, in the setting of the canon novels and not be contradictory to the history and events in them. To that end, Hard_Rom has graciously agreed to serve as arbiter of canon for this “Affairs of Kaitain” thread. Please post any questions you have in this regard for his (and others’) comments and his ruling on the OOC for The Affairs of Kaitain thread.

Here are some etiquette guidelines for our role-playing:

1. Respect Character Autonomy. It is a basic courtesy in interactive role-play writing that you do not put significant words, if any, in another writer's character's mouth, and you do not assume another writer's character makes decisions or takes significant action without that other writer's permission.

2. Be Consistent. Make sure you know what is going on in the other writers' posts well enough that you do not post some action or event that contradicts what another writer has already established happened.

3. Note the Details. Keeping the story in canon is already discussed above. You can find an extensive background for our story at The Expanded Dune Wiki, and many other places on the internet, with indexed details specific to this role-play added at the OOC for The Affairs of Kaitain. As you contribute to the story, make sure your actions and descriptions follow the information provided by those resources, and are likewise consistent with any details already established by other writers earlier in the thread. Any uncertainties or questions you have in these regards should be presented on the OOC thread for comment and resolution.

4. Be Literate. It makes it easier and more enjoyable for everyone if writers follow the conventions of English spelling and grammar.

5. Proofread! See 4, above.​


I think these five make a good start. If anyone wants to propose any further etiquette guidelines for our role-play, please do so at the OOC for The Affairs of Kaitain.








 
Last edited:
Title Page

THE AFFAIRS OF KAITAIN
A Role-Play of Dune

attachment.php







Dramatis Personae





Table of Contents







 
Last edited:
Law Is the Ultimate Science

Law Is the Ultimate Science


attachment.php

Josephine, Countess suo jure of House Marìus, walked through the dark, secret passages far below Blei Palace in Volida, the capital city of the planet Molyvis, which she now ruled. The pilots of the bulk cargo transport she would secretly take to Bela Tegeuse, the first stop on her secret journey to Kaitain, would not bend space until her subjects had fully loaded the ship. That gave Josephine just enough time to take care of some important business.

The prisoner remained in a chamber that did not appear on any blueprint, and was known only to a select few members of the “Praetoria,” the elite guard that reported directly to the Count or, now, Countess, and charged with security at all government facilities. Two Praetorian soldiers saluted Josephine, their new Commander-in-Chief, as she stepped up to the chamber. One slid the barred door open. Neither accompanied her inside. There was no chance the prisoner posed any threat.

Josephine stood for a moment, studying the prisoner.

attachment.php


“I thought I owed it to you to be the one to inform you I have just completed all the legal necessities and personally signed your Death Writ,” Josephine finally said, her voice cold and smooth as an icicle. “Your attempt to slit my throat I can understand, Mischelle, but to kill our dear big brother with chaumurky in his favorite wine is inexcusable.”

Josephine reached up with her right hand and savagely squeezed the Mischelle’s left breast, mercilessly twisting it until the prisoner could not help but whimper through her gag.

“You never were very tough,” Josephine sighed with apparent disappointment. “I suppose that is how you fell under the influence of those plotters on Kaitain, and why you spilled the whole plot to my interrogators after so little torture. So, I’ve made sure your execution will be painless.”

Tears had formed in Josephine’s eyes as she concluded. “As you go now to your death, please know that I still love you, Mischelle, but politics is politics. For the good of our House, I can’t afford the distraction of having to watch my back for your next feeble assassination attempt while I root out who it was who used you to try to bring down our family. Goodbye, dear sister.”

With that justification firmly established, Josephine left the cell and walked to the subterranean maglev vactrain that would take her secretly to the spaceport.

 
Last edited:
http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/1d/a4/3b/1da43bc2b8ca51cc9764c90c2d30f7f4.jpg

"Ha!" exclaimed the spice merchant's daughter, "Ascension in four!"

"Slig shit!" her brother sneers, "That's what this game is, slig shit!" "I'll never be any good at this. Why does father insist I learn?"

"Cheops requires an alert mind and a higher order of concentration," Pathir al-Qid replies, from his place by the window looking out over the Corrinth spaceport, "Both requirements of a successful business owner and doubly so when dealing in the spice melange." "The spice is the "secret coinage" of the Empire. Without it interstellar traffic stops, the Guild navigators could no longer fold space. Whole section of the population would die from withdrawal. Life spans would be reduced by factors."

"You father's dealings with spice let him move in high circles. He would have his children know some of the finer refinements, such as being an acceptable cheops player."

"It's still slig shit!" the young man declares, "I'm going out with my friends."

Pathir makes no move to stop the boy from storming out. It is a waste of time trying to teach that one anything of value. The daughter though was a different story. Smart, outgoing and gifted with fine looks, if the merchant had any sense he would have his daughter inherit the business. The girl gets up from the game and follows her brother to the door. She locks it behind him and moves to stand before Pathir. Dropping to her knees, she begins to demonstrate the other skills her cheops tutor has taught her.

An hour later, Pathir is making his way to the spaceport having cleaned up and put on a fresh clean shirt after his dalliance with the spice merchant's daughter. The spaceport of Corrinth is for all intensive purposes the center of the known universe. You can learn more observing passenger and cargo loading and unloading than you can at any palace function. The vast quantities of exotic and not so exotic foods and materials to sustain the population of the Imperium's center was staggering. The numbers of visitors and tourists would make any spymaster balk at keeping tabs on all comers and goers.

Being a cheops tutor for a merchant's children is far from Pathir's true ambition. To be the Mentat advisor to a House Major would be much closer to that ambition. Cheops tutoring pays the bills for now. And a spice merchant always makes liberal use of his own inventory. Pathir's spice intake is a major drain on his resources. He desperately needs to find a proper house to serve in some capacity or he may end up as cheops master to middle-class merchants. Pathir shudders at the thought. All the pain and discipline suffered at the hands of Tleilaxu twisted-mentat teachers would be for nought. The sensual pleasures applied in oppostion to the pain and discipline would elude him as a simple cheops tutor.
 
Last edited:
The tavern reeked of sweat, blood, and desperation as the last of the patrons crowded around one table near the the center of the barroom floor. The table dancers and fire jugglers had long since gathered up their money and what few remained they looked on like everyone else at the game being played. The high rollers who stayed for the thrill and those who went bust looked on hoping for someone else to have better luck and perhaps be generous with their winnings.

Joab shook the dice holder again and shook it until he felt the feeling he needed and threw out the pair. Without even looking the cheers and sighs let him know what the roll was, but her looked up and smiled glancing around the table. He nodded and collected his winning as the tavern keeper yelled out to everything that it was the last game of the night. There were grumbles as the winners scooped up their winnings, and others settled up for the night. He was the last to get up from the table though with his hard won funds.

Before he could turn around there was the representative from his landlord. He'd sensed the man approaching, but it was a disappointment that he'd remained. In the capital one had to project strength and for months now he'd been living beyond his means by occupying a lavish residence and spending on meals as he networked. When you were a man without a house you had work to find one, but you couldn't lower yourself to do actual work. The sight of the minion of the noble he owed for his lodgings was bothersome because it tarnished the image.

He'd scold at the man who'd been lurking nearby and picked up one of the velvet bags that portioned off his winning for the evening. An establishment's reputation rested on the fact that while the games might not always be fair at least they paid you what you were owed. He tossed it to the man who took it without looking, and without missing a beat the tavern owner came over and took his shares. He'd been running a tab as well and he'd at least been reasonable with his collection methods. One of his underlings handed him back his blade and a weapon wrapped in his cloak and sash.

With what passed for well wishes and a weak attempt to say come back soon he walked out into the street with the others. It would be dawn in a few hours, so now it was time to go home and rest. There would be a young serving girl waiting warming his bed. Then there would sleep until it was time to workout, eat hardly, enjoy a hot bath and prepare for court. There were no parties to attend, but everyone on of any real status at least sent a representative to court.

As long as there were houses there would be rivalries and competition for resources there would be conflict. Conflicts quickly turned into wars and because of the deception and intrigue in the politics of court there would always be a need for those to do the dirty work. Spy, assassinate, and soldier on behalf of whatever cause. There would always be a need for people like him, but it was on him now to get others to realize that before he went completely broke.

http://orig09.deviantart.net/723c/f/2009/218/4/2/mal_dune_sardaukar_by_ambi_ente.jpg
 
Last edited:
http://www.orgonebox.org/allegoric/wp-content/gallery/creature_feature/children_of_dune/Children_of_Dune%20(17).JPG

Harmon had been on Kaitain for the past three months building up his reputation as both a noble and a person of wealth in both money and information. As far as people knew he was here representing his Families interests and building up new trading routes to sell their wares. Just what they were he kept close to his chest and that in itself made him a man of interest. The few deals that he had made were done in secret and the parties had come out smiling and refusing to discuss the details.

His real purpose of course was something completely different. He had been inserted here by House Ordos to sound out certain large Houses about forming an alliance between their two houses. House Ordos was very rich, their motto was profit above all else. The problem was they had no political power or a standing army of their own. That is what they desperately wanted. With that they could grow faster and maximize more profits.

Harmon was to find a suitable House they would be able to manipulate through either bribery, blackmail or by putting a weak puppet on the throne. Something had already been tried on Molyvis, but had fallen apart and now the Countess was on her way here to be officially recognized. Of course this was not well known as was the fact that she was looking for information for on the traitors in her midst.

Harmon of course could provide her with all those details. He would have to be careful of course to not reveal Ordos's involvement, but this is what he had been trained for. Harmon was not really a minor Noble, but a well trained assassin. Not only that he was a Ghola and there were several more of him just waiting to take over should he fail. His every moment was recorded by a small personal camera so that should he die his replacement would be able to quickly be brought up to speed and continue the mission. He was determined not to fail though.

The Countess was due any day, but until then he had his facade to keep up and an appearance at court and then the markets. Making sure his clothing was immaculate he straightened his hair and walked out of his luxurious apartment and made his way to the court, preparing himself for another day of intrigue.
 
Unexpected Arrival


Josephine almost wished the Consular Guard had not admitted her so readily. True, her own Immigration Ministry had prepared the false but valid passport she presented, identifying her as Marie Tascher, the daughter of the imaginary owner of a fictional tungsten mining conglomerate. None the less, she expected to find tighter security surrounding House Marìus’s offices here on Kaitain.

Had they not heard yet of the recent turmoil on Molyvis?

She dropped the subterfuge once inside the Consulate, removing her veil and donning what she still thought of as her father’s signet ring. The Vice-Chamberlain recognized her immediately. He confirmed that word of her brother’s unlawful assassination had only reached them two days earlier and, to her relief, that they thought she remained on Molyvis. Perhaps no one yet realized she had come to Kaitain.

“Is our Chief Delegate here?” she demanded. “I need to speak with him. And I need a mentat. I left Iulius running things back home. Find me a mentat!”



 
Aside from rumours of what appears to be a regime change on Molyvis, home planet of the Marius family, the day spent at the spaceport was not particularly productive. Molyvis is a remote world ruled by one of the lesser House Majors known primarily for it's mining of rare earths and fine ceramics. A jar of spice beer shared with a friendly customs inspector revealed that Count Marius had been assassinated through chaumurky and his two sisters had disappeared. House Marius is not a major player in the universe, although rare earths are greatly needed by both the Ixians and Richese for their technology. The fine ceramics are highly prized amongst the well-to-do. Hardly breaking news though. This would be the third regime change amongst a lesser House Major this standard year. Pathir had gone to the offices of the Secretary of the Landsraad and determined that no War of Assassins has been declared against House Marius. An interesting development but not likely to generate any real opportunity for himself, presently. Molyvis is a long ways off and not one of the Imperiums movers and shakers. Pathir mentally files the information along with half a dozen other rumours and minor news.

The projection of the developments on Molyvis not being of any personal interest to himself proves incorrect later that night. Pathir is playing cheops in a back room against a rather uninspired player of Mentat hypothesist rank, who is apparently relying on a large dose of sapho juice to beat Pathir, when he is handed a note by a serving wench. Pathir tips her and opens the note while his opponent takes far too much time determining his next move. The note is from the offices of the Molyvis' embassy requesting he pay a quiet visit to the embassy in two hours and ask for the Vice-Chamberlain's secretary. A quiet visit will require a bit of a change in his appearance. Pathir balls the note up and eats it, washing it down with spice beer. His opponent doesn't even notice. While not unskilled, Pathir has determined that he will beat him on the twenty-fifth move. Unfortunately his opponents ponderous play means that may not be for two more hours. Five decigrams of spice is the wager. A rather substantial amount. Only the prime projection of mate on the twenty-fifth move has led Pathir to wager such an amount. Plus the fact he has skimmed it from the spice master's son's personal stash. Replacing it with a like amount of inert material. Pathir needs another hour for an appearance change.

Five standard minutes later Pathir's sapho juiced opponent makes his move. A move which does nothing to change the projection of mate in twenty-five by Pathir. Pathir's move is quick and decisive. A move which will result in his own defeat in fifteen. The call to the Molyvis embassy is worth the loss of five decigrams of stolen valuable spice. It still takes his opponent half a standard hour to defeat him. Pathir accepts his defeat graciously and congratulates his opponent. He returns to his quarters and affects his appearance change. Plastic inserts alter the shape of his cheeks and jawline. Contacts change his eye colour and a wig his hair. Pathir downgrades his normally rich attire for that more suited to a middle-class person and assumes a stooped posture to disguise his height. Slipping a small stone in his shoe makes it easy to affect a limb. He hopes he does not encounter any Bene Gesserit witches. They would see through the disguise in a standard micro-second. But short of that Pathir is confident at night no one will be able to recognize the middle-class merchant with a slight limb. Not that anyone on Kaitian is likely to know Pathir well but best not take chances.

At the desired time Pathir enters the embassy and asks to see the Vice-Chamberlain's secretary. He is not asked to identify himself but instead is directed to a small office, where he is served spice coffee and asked to wait.
 
Last edited:
Help Wanted


Josephine sat in the office of her Chief Delegate to the Combine Honnete Ober Advancer Mercantiles. Her father had served as a CHOAM Director, but not her brother. She wanted her House to reacquire that badge of power.

But first things first. She heard the Vice-Chancellor’s secretary return to the small outer office. The first and, so far, only unengaged mentat her agents had identified waited there.

“It is time for your interview,” the secretary spoke, not identifying who would conduct it. “Please follow me.”



 
Whoever sent the note is quite aware of who he is, so Pathir removes the removable elements of his disguise. The clothes must stay but the cheek implants and wig are removed. He keeps the contacts in as they are full contacts which conceal the slight blue tinge of his eye's sclera due to heavy melange use. He pockets the irritating pepple from his shoe for the trip back, if necessary.

While he waits, Pathir settles into a Mentat trance and runs various simulations involving House Marius. From a simple act of murder for personal reasons to an undeclared War of Assassins, each result is given a percentage chance of reality and compartmentalized to be revised or disgarded when new information is obtained. The fact he has limited information does not inhibit him. In fact it liberates his mind to hypothesize free of pre-conception or prejudice. The naive mind is a free mind. Being a twisted-mentat also allows his projections to be free of moral and ethical constraints. Most projections depend on who awaits him inside the inner office or who controls that person.

When the secretary returns, he comes out of his trance and finishes his spice coffee. Following the secretary, Pathir surrepitiously checks the drop on the slip-tip and throwing knife secreted up his sleeves. Who ever is in charge around here is lacking in the basics of security. He was not scanned or physically searched when entering. And this after the House ruler's assassination! One can never be to sure. Plots within plots within plots.

As soon as he steps through the door into the inner office and recognizes the elder sister of the murdered Count many simulation programs are dumped. The faces of all the House Major members are recorded in his mind as are the basic economies and histories of their planets. The family signet ring on her hand tells him that at least the sucession of the house has been cleared up, for now. The secretary bows to the Countess and retires to the outer office leaving Pathir alone with her. He can't but help wonder where her guards are. It must have been ridiculously easy to eliminate her brother with this level of protection or lack thereof. If given the opportunity, his first suggestion would be acquiring a trustworthy sword and a new head of security.

"Countess Josephine," Pathir says, intending to impress her with his knowledge of herself and recent events, "May I offer my condolences on the death of your brother." "I am Pathir al-Qid. How may I be of service?"
 
Last edited:
Opening Pitch


“Countess Josephine, may I offer my condolences on the death of your brother,” the handsome young man begins, “I am Pathir al-Qid. How may I be of service?”

“I’m considering engaging the services of a mentat,” Josephine replies, showing no reaction to his recognition of her and her situation. After all, any mentat worth employing should demonstrate such talent. “You are the first of several I plan to consider. I understand you currently work for a mere entrepreneur. Certainly, you understand that lacks... prestige. Would you not rather serve a noble house?”



 
Pathir could be on Draconis IV, the icy homeworld of House Ordos, for all the coldness of his "welcome". The Countess apparently does put much stock in pleasantries and comes straight to the point.

"Of course, Countess," Pathir replies with a silky smile, "It would be an honour and a privilege to serve you... and your House."

The two are not mutually exclusive. Personal loyalty can be to a personage or the House itself. It would not be unheard off for the interest of the House itself to be not in the best interest of actual individuals in the family, even the House ruler. For the good of her House may not be in the current Countess' best interest. Incompetence and madness are not unkown in the ruling families. Certain perversions or crimes actively engaged in may be detrimental to a House's stature. A "good" Mentat works for the betterment of the House. Pathir's morals, or lack of, do not extend to such idealistic thoughts. Tleilaxu conditioning removes such ideals.

The Countess has obviously come to Kaitain in disguise. The arrival of a House Major ruler to the capital would involve some degree of ceremony, with accompanying guard retinue, Mentat advisor at her side and a welcoming committee of her own people and probably a minor Imperial personage. She does not want certain people to know she is in Corrinth. At least not yet.

Her presence on Kaitain will not have gone unnoticed by all though. There is no getting past the fact she came on a Spacing Guild transport. Disguised or not, the Guild would have been aware of her presence. They are quite meticulous in knowing what and who they carry. And if the Guild knows, there is a good chance the Emperor knows. Unless it is in the interest of the Guild the Emperor not know. But should the Emperor know then it is assured the Bene Gesserit know. The Empress Anirul is a Bene Gesserit as are some of the Emperor's own daughters.

If her House's Mentat Advisor was dead she would be applying for a new one with any of half a dozen Mentat schools for a replacement. Not searching them out in the backrooms of Corrinth taverns.

"You seek your brother's murderers," he says with a Mentat's finality of computation.
 
Negotiator’s Gambit


“You seek your brother’s murderers,” Pathir al-Qid concluded with a tone of certainty.

“Even assuming that’s true — and I’m not saying it is — it would not necessarily take a mentat to come to that determination,” Josephine replied evenly, her expression as neutral as she can make it. “It would be a matter of common sense, not just as an act of justice, but also one of self-preservation. How would you convince me that I should retain your services?”



 
"It doesn't take a tenth level Ginaz Swordmaster to slip a knife in someone's back or a trained assassin to administer chaumurky either," Pathir replies dropping the smile, "Nor does it take a Mentat to see that your defences and precautions have as many holes in them as a dead slave-gladiator on Geidi Prime."

"You don't need a Mentat. You need someone with a certain mindset. There is an ancient saying 'Set a thief to catch a thief'. I can be that someone."

"That is...," he continues,"If I decide to take you up on an employment offer." "With your current security arrangements, you may not live long enough to pay the first installment."

"And your death under my watch would negatively impact my chances of finding 'meaningful' employment in the future. If I myself survived."

Pathir puts the silky smile back on and says with a slight bow, "With all due respect, Countess."
 
Negotiator’s Ploy


“Your death under my watch would negatively impact my chances of finding ‘meaningful’ employment in the future,” Pathir al-Qid suggested, looking to be wooed. “If I myself survived.”

“I did not realize you were such a cowa...,” Josephine cut herself off. “That you were so cautious , that is. Perhaps you don’t have the qualities I need for a mentat at this time.”



 
Murdering a House Major ruler on Kaitain without an escape plan would be a rash act. Pathir projects a fifteen point four five chance of him surviving long enough to even board a Guild highliner if he killed her here and now. The fool of a woman may not have proper guards but somewhere in the building is someone who can identify him. His smile grows.

"Self-preservation is the first law of nature," Pathir quotes a Bene Gesserit axiom.

"Courage stands halfway between cowardice and rashness, Countess," he continues still smiling, "One of which is a lack, the other an excess of courage." "Would you risk your House's future on rash decisions?"
 
Rashness


“Would you risk your House’s future on rash decisions?” Pathir al-Qid asked rhetorically.

Ironically, Josephine did not really hear this. She had grown impatient with his calm philosophizing.

“I don’t have time for all this,” she growled. “What are your terms of service?”

Catching herself, she quickly added, “Should I choose to retain you, that is.”


 
Low born Pathir al-Qid of Ecaz, a twisted Mentat of Tleilaxu conditioning, wonders what the noble born Countess is like in bed. She may rule House Marius but her emotions rule her. You don't need to be a Mentat to conclude she is probably a good fuck. Nice tits!

A handful of the spice Melange, five grams, will buy a house on Tupile, the Guilds refuge planet for renegade houses. With the profits from his two kilograms of yearly spice allotment, Pathir's current employer lives very well. Pathir is ambitious not greedy. Yet he does retain a high opinion of himself.

"Two decigrams of the spice and one thousand solari per standard month paid on the first day," he replies replacing the smile with a neutral expression, "All living expenses paid by House Marius." "Plus a signing bonus of a half gram of spice and one thousand solari."

House Marius is not the richest of Houses, not since her father lost the family's CHOAM directorship, but their outward bound business through the Guild is calculated to be two hundred million solaris and upwards of one kilogram of spice are imported by the two planetary systems they control. A CHOAM directorship requires at least five hundred million solari. Internal planetary system trade is not factored into CHOAM calculations. Currently Melange trades at sixty-two thousand solari a gram on Arrakis.
 
Last edited:
Frugality


“Outrageous!” Josephine replied to Pathir’s proposed salary. She had slipped earlier in the negotiation, but she refused to let him take complete advantage of her desperation. “Reasonable living expenses I’ll grant and, on top of that, I’ll be generous: 65 milligrams of Melange and 800 solari per month.”


 
No probability reaches one hundred percent. Even though her immediate rejection of two decigrams was ninety-eight point seven percent probable, it doesn't hurt to ask. Especially when there are no guards to throw him out on to the street at her elbow.

"Eight centigrams, eight hundred a month," Pathir responds, "The bonus paid not for signing but when you have your vengeance."

It took three months to set the cheops game up, he just threw. Plus an outlay of spice incurred showing he could be beat at cheops. Technically, Pathir could make more money playing cheops but Generalist being denied access to playing in tourneys denies him the fame and big big solari. Sharping Hypothesists, skimming from employers and seducing potential heiresses is hardly a test of his skills. At his earliest opportunity though he will have a rematch against his timely lucky last opponent.
 
Last edited:
Formality



Josephine lacked the mentat’s computational abilities, but could make important non-mathematical calculations of her own. She could possibly bargain him down a bit more, but as he had now made a reasonable counteroffer, she knew agreement would help build loyalty.

“Deal!” she declared. “I’ll have the Vice-Chamberlain draw up the paperwork for your review.”

She stood and held out her hand, palm down, presenting the Signet Ring of House Marìus.


 
The forms of the rigid feudal class system of the faufreleches must be observed. Observing proper form is in fact the basis for much of human society. Every clause of the Great Convention starts with the phrase 'The forms must be observed'. The Assassins Handbook is very strict on observing the forms. Unless describing means to circumvent such things as the Great Convention and the conventions of Wars of Assassins or kanly.

Pathir bows over the hand of the Countess and kisses her ring. Even as his poison snooper disguised as a heavy ring sniffs the air above her hand. The gelskin covering his lips, which masks the prominent cranberry colour of regular sapho uses, should protect him from any contact poisons.

"I am yours, Countess," Pathir says pleasantly, "What are your orders?"
 
Starting Small



“Other than a few Praetorian officers I left on Molyvis to keep an eye on things, I don’t know whom among my own people I can trust,” Josephine explained to her new mentat. “That’s why I came here incognito and hired you as soon as I could. Having done so, I simply have to take it on faith that I did not give those who killed my brother time to put you in place to betray me.”

She sat down and rubbed her own forehead with the fingers of her right hand. “I need to assemble a small team of experts and advisors — just you and one or two others for now, I should think — to root out this undeclared enemy of House Marìus. That’s your first task, Pathir, to assemble that team.”


 
Generalists mentats were expected to possess broad and accurate knowledge of at least 94.75% of everything occurring in "his universe". Pathir's "universe" includes the various unemployed retainers of note seeking work in the capital. Other mentats and assassins looking for patrons are competition.

"If we are fighting an undeclared War of Assassins," he says, "You're going to need a Warmaster." "And not just someone to do the wet work either."

"An obvious swordsman caught my eye in a tavern one night. Seemed awfully well dressed for just a sell sword. Out of curiosity I asked and was told he is the bastard son of a minor noble and a mercenary or maybe a smuggler, by the name of Joab. My information said he came in on a Guild highliner from Ishkal. A planet in the House Ordos system of Sigma Draconis. A Warmaster who can blend in with the upper class might be a good idea."

"And he is apparently relying on his luck at dice to keep himself! I have seen him in two taverns. Your trusted messenger who found me should seek out this candidate for your Warmaster here on Kaitain."

"Perhaps the Countess should send for food and spice coffee," Pathir suggests, "Then you can tell me all you know." "I am sure this will prove to be a long night."
 
How and Why



“Someone turned my younger sister against our House, promising to make her Countess” Josephine began, pressing the button that would bring a servant. “We interrogated her, of course, before her execution. She gave the assassin access to her sniffer. Everyone in our family used the same technology. From that, he was able to devise a poison that would go undetected in my brother’s wine, which Mischelle then slipped into it.”

She paused when a porter arrived and acknowledged her request to fetch spice coffee and cakes. When the door had shut behind him, Josephine concluded. “That’s the ‘how.’ We have yet to determine the ‘why.’”


 
Back
Top