Arcoux Keep

The Marquis approached the Duke's castle with only one guard, a stablelad and his valet. He was casual, flippantly so, but could afford to be. Only on horses, they clip-clopped over the bridge and toward the gates of the home. He had, of course, come to visit uninvited, but that -- again -- was entirely within the Marquis' infamous nature.

Still, people found him charming, and the Marquis seemed to know when not to push with his usual antics. Some traditions he still observed -- like coming dressed as a Marquis of Gauldin ought to be dressed, and bearing a small gift for the inconvenience he might have put the Duke in by suddenly appearing at his doorstep.

(No problem, and sorry if I assumed too much. Was going off the picture)

The usual and predictable steps were taken, the Marquis presenting himself, being recognized and admitted by the guard, so and so boring forth. It was all so formulaic that the bored expression on the Marquis' handsome face really never lifted, even though he sat elegantly in his saddle.

His small party moved easily through into the Keep, and although the Marquis was not exactly unimpressed by the Duke's abode, he was less noticing of it than his compatriots. After all, the Marquis kept grand grounds himself, and was usually surrounded by wealth and luxury given where he chose to spend his time.

He and his party dismounted, and the reins of their horses were given off to his valet and the stablelad who went off to see them quartered. The valet, no doubt, would be joining the Marquis of Jourdain later, after the four horses had been settled and the stablelad was comfortable.

Escorted into the castle, the Marquis waited for his presence to be announced to the Duke while the Marquis perused a work of art set in the grand foyer.

The Marquis didn't mind the lack of pomp and circumstance in the Duke's home, although a brow did perk on his aristocratic face at how spartan everything seemed compared to the usual Gauldish decoration. In time, his valet quietly came to join them, the stable lad left with the horses.

When the Duke came down, the Marquis turned. Josse was dressed fashionably, yet not to the point that someone might call him a dandy. Still, he took obvious care and joy in his appearance, and cut a dashing figure that showed more attention to being fashionable than the duke.



"Nicolas," the Marquis said, speaking on a first-name basis, his smile lazy but charmed as he walked toward the base of the stairs, cane in one hand but not currently being used. "Never mind that, I suppose I should apologize for dropping by without announcement. The journey wasn't long at all. Arcide happens to have a wonderful singing voice." He half-turned toward his stone-faced, scarred bodyguard who did not at all look like he was enjoying himself. "Don't you, Arcide?"

"Yes, milord," answered Arcide, and Josse turned back to the Duke.

"Wonderful," Josse answered, tapping his cane against the ground and moving to step in place beside Nicolas as they made their way out toward the gardens. The valet and the guard followed stiffly after.

A charming smile swept over Josse's face as he looked at Nicolas. "A little bird told me that you've been traveling, Nicolas. That's piqued my interest. I've been in a bit of an artistic slump, and I'd like to pick your brain."

It seemed like a simple request.

Too simple.

"Money," Josse answered plainly as he took his seat. He looked elegant no matter where he decided to sit, it seemed, making even a plain stone bench into a throne. "But I thought I would be polite and make light conversation first." He reached out to pick up some fruit, tossing Nicolas a carefree smile as he popped a grape into his mouth.