Chương 140: Chapter 161: Tea

On Sixthday, I brought everyone out to Vancy's hometown again. After several weeks without weekend outings, everyone was eager to see their various homes again. So much so that nobody pressed to see Meadowtam, they were eager for their own turns and did not press for me to show off anything of my own origins. Obviously that suited me just fine. And besides, it's still fun to follow Vancy around town. Exhausting and sometimes confusing, but fun. I thought that last time we saw everything.

And we had, but only in passing. She sort of took us through town at a jog. Today I've brought a guest, but not Trazom this time. I'm trying not to play favorites too much. Besides, I figured that Thumper's vibe would blend with Vancy's in a fun way. She didn't have anything going on today "except about twelve hours of form drills, and I can do those whenever". Form drills are not what I thought they were. I've been spending too much time around my engineering instructors.

No this time we went through Tarcelle at a more moderated pace but more depth. That park that everyone goes to to propose marriage? Well it's also where people go to watch and bet on pigeon racing, which is actually a thing. So if someone invites you, it's not necessarily to get down on one knee and offer a ring, but it could be, or you might see someone else proposing. But this is because the local myth is about pigeons being messengers of the gods in matters of love.

That's why they have that big temple-slash-pigeon-coop over by the grain mill. A tithe of grain that gets milled is given over to the pigeons. There's stories and stories and lore about frickin' everything in this place, and Vancy seems to know all of it. Thumper is fascinated by the town, and by Vancy's recitations, and then one idle question on her part sidetracked us to the dueling grounds, and then the training grounds, and the barracks. At my suggestion, we swung by the factory to chat with the lector.

At Larianne's suggestion we stopped by the candleworks, and that was a damn fine idea; a town with this many great perfume shops would have amazing scented candles. Elica was the one that proposed a teahouse.

"Gods, I haven't been to one in ages," I chuckled.

"Really?" Vancy was shocked.

"There's three really good ones within a walk of the school. Four if you're not allergic to jasmine, I guess. I'm in pretty much any time I'm not having dinner or cards with the three of you." Elica smirked.

"It's a class thing, Vancy." Thumper snorted.

"Snob."

"Yes," Elica admitted freely.

"Tea houses are mostly for dames and ladies of the baronet level. A countess in most regions is not considered to sit for social occasions of less than a score of guests. Earls, two-score. I would hazard that our Princess Natalie has been extensively coached to avoid meetings of that size or smaller." I winced.

"Yeah. If I sat at a table with a dozen people I'm not related to, it's presumed that I'm shortlisting chaperones and introductions to swains. Since I'm not ready for dating, and less so for arranged marriages, I stay the fuck out of social occasions unless there's a crowd." Part of why my affect has no middle ground. I'm either around large groups of near-strangers that require my full etiquette and erudition, or I'm with my small core of close friends that I can "yeah" with. Thumper looked confused.

"But you've been to taverns, restaurants, clubs...?" Yheta laughed and nudged her.

"Restaurants are for food. Everyone needs to eat. But a tea room is different. Or a salon, or a drawing room used as anything but a green room. Taverns are for drink, pubs are for company, restaurants are for food. But Natalie needs to be careful which garden she walks through or the local gentry will seize the opportunity to press their claim." The fencing captain looked disturbed.

"That can't be real." I sighed and deflated. It was actually very real. Big nobility requires a big party. If I attend an "intimate gathering" it had better be with an intimate purpose.

"But," Vancy said, grabbing both of us by the arms, "Since we're her inner circle, we can bring her to a teahouse without it being a courtship." I glanced back at Thumper. [Antagonist][Love Interest][The Access] She was glancing back at me. I don't think she was seeing a signal that was quite as spelled out as I was, but she was seeing something that Vancy did not see. Larianne saw it though, she and Elica were both snickering behind their hands. Yes, I'm crushing on Thumper somewhat.

No, I'm not channeling the essence of snake just to keep it from showing. The group was myself and Elica and Larianne and Vancy, Yheta and Thumper and Rinnie and Nunxio. Elica corralled them outside of the shop and reminded them that nobody is to sit at our table besides the eight of us. This is a formal and traditional setting, away from larger society, for private chats and gatherings. These things have implications and need to be treated with respect.

We filed in, met the hostess, and got a seating set for ourselves. The place was nicely decorated, homey and cozy, with nice potpourri and a variety of pots and cup/saucer sets to pick from. We declined a cozy because we were not going to be long, just to sit and drink and chat in peace.

"Private room?" Thumper looked uncomfortable.

"Tea room," Vancy corrected. We went through the selections and the greetings, cooed and oohed over the cute serving pieces, and I added a bit of sandalwood to the potpourri blend. We settled on a white tea because caffeine makes Vancy jittery. We poured, and Thumper was deeply amused to find out this was referred to as "bitching". She was confused, however, by the process of drinking.

"I thought it was polite to hold the cup pinky-out?" she said, mimicking. I laughed a little.

"I used to think that too. But, that's a misconception. If you're pinky-out then you've chosen the wrong cup for yourself. A small-handle cup is grasped with two fingers and a thumb, with the last two fingers curled to support under the handle." Thumper picked a cup that had a long top spine that she supported mostly with pressure from her thumb, and she seemed best comfortable with that.

She was amused at the process of picking cups, and I was amused that in the end she picked a cup she was holding in a rapier grip. Our server took the selections away to be warmed along with the pot, and again Thumper was confused.

"It's for the white tea," Yheta explained again. He was getting a little lecture-y and Thumper was getting less amused by it.

"White is brewed less bitter so it does not come to as high a temperature. If you put low-temperature tea into a room-temperature cup, you get cold tea. So you warm the cups so the tea will still be warm when you drink it." Thumper glanced across at me.

"This cannot be seriously a thing you gentlefolk actually do." I rolled my eyes.

"I've taken classes on this stuff. You've got your misspent youth, I've got mine." The funny thing was how effortlessly she fit right in. Some would expect that the brash and earthy personality of Sepecca "Thumper" Kuritan would have immediately been a hilarious fish-out-of-water story. Maybe an exasperated hostess that had to keep prodding her to stop slouching. Maybe some loud slurping. But for all of her annoyance at fiddly procedure, she already had perfect posture and balance.

She knew exactly how far to comfortably reach, and to support all weight from beneath. She saw us lift the saucer with one hand and then lift the cup with the other, and immediately caught on. Vancy took her first sip, declared it too hot to drink, and set it down without blowing on it. We waited for it to cool, and Thumper did likewise. She honestly looked less awkward than I felt. My first time at a teahouse in six years, her first time ever, and she was doing better than I was.

The hostess brought out pastries and circulated the conversation, amiably chatting and we bantered lightly. Light, airy non-answers, the noise of social graces.

"Oh you know how it is," that sort of thing. Recitation of social forms without real connection. She started us on sweets instead of sandwiches or scones because we were only stopping over briefly. White tea with no cozy, you understand. She was pleasant and maintained interest without prying, valuable skills in a tea hostess and valuable practice for anyone who may be walking into the formal decorum Thunderdome that is my typical Sixthday evening. If you're not familiar, it's a fairly easy format.

"How have you enjoyed the weather?"

"It is quite nice if you are dressed for it. Bright though, we have had to walk on the leeward side of the road to keep the glare off our eyes."

"Ah, we did not have that problem two summers ago when broad hats were in style. These curled brims are chic and flattering but do nothing for the sun!"

"I suppose that style will come back around in its time, and we shall bemoan how the curled brims would frame our faces."

"Ah, that is the way, I suppose, easier to miss what we've lost than to appreciate what we have. A pastry for you?"

"Please yes. Could you tell me what is mixed into this marmalade?"

"Cinnamon and clove. You'd think those flavors would be too warm for the summer but the bright marmalade sets them off nicely!"

"Quite, yes. And then the mellowness of the tea. Have you done this long?"

"Oh, I've dreamed of my own teahouse since I was just a little girl, worked my way from serving to management to owner. Shall I draw the shades?"

"No, it is still quite pleasant. Larianne, didn't you once say that you had the same dream as a girl?"

"That was a coffee shop, not the same thing. And I'll not get the chance until I've found someone to abdicate my position to."

"Oh, you're of station as well?"

"Yes, a countess like our Lady Tarcelle. I'm afraid I won't have my coffee shop until I'm the Dowager Countess, whenever that should be."

"Hah, you know Cousin Bibo would declare himself your heir today if he heard you saying that."

"Shush Nunxio. I wouldn't give Cousin Bibo a single block of my province."

"He'd settle for a single street corner, and you know it."

"Nunxio! Shame on you!" We laughed, and the hostess laughed with us, the almost-scandalous quip at the expense of someone none of us knew. Thumper laughed too and seemed to fall into the rhythm of the thing. Small talk, icebreakers. Nothing serious. Nothing revealing. The conversation skipped merrily along, a moving target. She did admirably. I may get her to accompany me on a Sixthday evening, after the upcoming Fashion Week.

I resolved to ask her later if she would see herself in a formal gown, or perhaps trews and a tailcoat. I'd bet she looks butch as fuck in a double-breasted with a cravat. Elica caught me staring. I blushed. Thumper caught me blushing. I died. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Sixthday was fun with the girls, but in the evening I had to get everyone back in time to start getting ready for the night's event.

I've been advised not to lean too heavily on Trazom as an escort, lest my reputation get subsumed by his own. Thumper's not ready, and Kurumi will never be ready. For various reasons Ryichsur, Licard, Belisa and Nux are all entirely inappropriate. I'm not ready to formally ally with Nhullit or to make a move on Duskare so I cannot invite Rabert or Quarl. Tiviti and Kimothy both require more activity and enrichment than we will have this evening.

And so, to Elica's annoyance, I am inviting Yheta Snairlin, second heir of Snairlin House.

"Very well," she said mock-sternly, "but I get him the next two weeks!" Tonight's event is a birthday party for the next heir of the Griefir House, Millstrong. It should be largely Development faction, but Snairlin is cadet to Aumerje, which is Independent Faction and not as antagonistic as the Dominionists. Dropping signals that I'm cultivating a coalition with Aumerje looks smart but doesn't commit hard enough to open me up to criticism.

I'm three-quarters the way through my momentum strategy for the season, and this is not the time to be making any mistakes. The beginning was difficult but low-stakes. The last few weeks will be difficult but low-risk. Right now I'm at the portion where it would be most likely for something to go wrong, and also the most trouble if it did go wrong. Now that I've said it all together like that, this is a terrible time to have Yheta involved.

Tonight's gown is a scarlet off-shoulder top with scarlet ribbon-stitches running in parallel patterns down the skirt, separating panels of white and gray, making the dress a fusion of Greifir and Harigold colors. My makeup was mostly red with silver highlights and a dash of glitter. The accessories were steel, polished and shiny but still grayer in color than my usual silver jewelry, and with a more military connotation.

I had a high-necked torc like an armored gorget and a set of rings connected to a bracelet that was modeled like fingerless gauntlets. The only other jewelry was the earrings from my mother and my poison-detecting thumb ring. The Greifir house is largely concerned with its values, bravery and virtue. They're very devout and uncompromising, but valor and strength are just as important to them, and Millstrong is known to be more impressed by action than prayer.

I was not coming to this party to remind everyone that I'm a good and proper church mouse, I'm showing off the lean and dangerous muscles in my shoulders, back and arms, wearing handguards that are not quite brass knuckles by the smallest margin, with my throat protected and my hair braided in the style of the highland yeomen. I wanted this to be the impression people were holding when I make my announcements this week. Natalie Harigold, ass-kicker.

Silver combs darted like minnows around my head, and I watched the work in a mirror. Elica saw me over her own shoulder in her own mirror, while Rinnie was curling and styling her pastel hair.

"That is way too much braiding," she said.

"It looks uncomfortable. And a lot of work."

"When it's finished it's comfortable," I said, as the braids got woven back into each other.

"It's not meant to be taken down and redone every day, it's a style meant for staying out of your way for a week at a time between showers." She shuddered.

"You're not going to skip showers though, right? I won't have it!"

"Elica, I'm putting my hair up like this to associate an image. It would not help my image if I was actually gross." She was mollified. I checked the time, running late. As soon as my hair was finished I headed downstairs to get Yheta. He was going a step further, with a padded doublet under a burgundy sash. The doublet was alternately black, gray, and white and the sash held a scabbard-hook for a decorative smallsword with a burgundy peace-tie. The outfit blended Harigold, Greifir, and Aumerje colors equally.

It also included Ebonder, Nhullit and Braige colors, which was probably unintended. I think he just got an idea in his head and went with it, despite the fact that it's trying too much and looks too busy.

"You're bringing a sword to a birthday party?" I said, raising an eyebrow.

"Not even your own liege house?"

"I wanted to put on a good show of it," he said.

"Also, I rarely get a chance to wear a sword. It's exciting! And standing at your side while we are hosted by the paladin house? Best chance I'm going to get all year."

"Just don't offer it as a birthday gift to Millstrong, that is fraught with messages. What are you planning to give?" He rolled his eyes.

"Doesn't matter what I wanted to give. Uncle insists that I'm to bring the first Snairlin bid for the lumber-clearing contract at Uchislowi, nothing above cost."

"That's generous," I said.

"And disingenuous. That wood is worth a fortune to some people, so hauling it off to be stored and processed is worth more to you than to the Brunblings, whose land the jungle is actually on." He shrugged.

"Uncle Lewot is determined to get that contract. He's pressured the Brunblings and now he wants to present to the Greifir too." I rolled my eyes.

"Yheta, that's a crap gift! Not just boring, not just deceptive, but it's not even addressed to the right people! All right, you can do as your uncle asks, but we need to bring another gift as well, something from you so that you can distinguish yourself from your uncle's machinations."

"But what?" he demanded.

"I'm on a short budget until I graduate, and it's only thirty minutes until we're supposed to be walked in the door! Even with your powers, we could not shop for a gift in that time on a Sixthday evening!" He flailed an arm helplessly.

"Just... rededicate a church in his name," I said. I was testy. He glanced away.

"Uh, Snairlin does not control any churches," he said.

"Not well enough to announce a dedication."

"Fuck," I blurted.

"How do- no, not now. All right. Look, just stand here. I'll be back in ten minutes." I opened a portal and left. When I came back, I had a stoppered crystal-glass bottle in my hands.

"Here, use this."

"What is it?"

"Let's call it a potion," I said.

"It will make someone permanently healthier if they immerse themselves in it."

"We're calling it a potion," he said carefully.

"But it's really?..."

"Monster blood."

"Potion then," he said brightly.

"What are you giving him?"

"A wand that can conjure winter," I said.

"Quit stalling, I'm calling the portal." Funny thing was I really thought I knew what I should expect from this party.