2 Redoubt Buccaneers arrives, following Wulfrum.

Wulfrum has joined the a curved comfortable couch.

Wash has joined the a curved comfortable couch.

2 Redreef Wardens arrives, following Nimue.

5 Grimhall House Guards, Gustav, a gruff Islander advisor, Vladimir, a shaggy brindle Grim Wolfhound arrive, following Valdemar.


As it turns out, when you're a small barony -- basically the shoulder-blade of another county's island -- your main audience hall is not incredibly spacious. That's not to say that the Redreef Estate's main hall is /small/, but for those used to the comfort and luxury of traveling through the likes of the Thrax Estate's audience hall, there might be a bit of a feeling of one's elbows being a little too close to the elbows of others, and not nearly enough space to slip away for discreet conversations.

The advantage that the Redreef Estate's audience hall has is that one of Redreef Shores' key exports is rum. So there's rum here. Lots and lots of it. The rum cellar -- if rum cellars exist -- has been emptied, it seems like. Everyone present could probably take home a bottle in each hand and there might still be a few left over.

Not drinking -- yet -- is Baroness Ember Redreef. She stands at the front of the hall, rather than greeting people as they enter. Her hands are clasped behind her back, and her stare is a baleful and severe one; she looks like a drill instructor. "Right. Hello. First point on the agenda: no prayer jokes." Ember pauses after that, but the look on her face and the steel in her tone make it sound as though she's not trying to be funny in the slightest. "Lord Haakon Eswynd has been told an account of the battle between the Pravus fleet and the Skal'dajans, which he has volunteered to share. But first, I realize that while most of us in here know one another, perhaps even quite well, we may not know each other's capabilities. So anyone who wishes to step forward, introduce themselves, brag about the height and girth of their mast -- do so now, and then we will begin properly."

Shyanne is dressed in a nice gown and she moves down the hall, two cups in her hands, one is handed to Ember because the Foster wants to keep the Baroness's hands busy. she moves to listen to the introduction before she smiles to her cousin and she moves over there beside him.

Prince Victus sweeps into the main hall with as much noise as a man clad in ceremonial armor and trying to be subtle could make. Which is to say, quite a bit. He makes a quick gesture to his guardsmen, who break off from their ward once he's inside the hall. His boots carry him to an out-of-the-way corner, where he can sit quietly and observe the procession. Occupying his chosen role as fly on the wall.

Trueth steps out of the kitchen of the Estate, telling a few servants where to put offerings of stuffed peppers, spiced meats, cheese, smoked salmon, various other drinks besides rum - and of course, desserts. Pumpkin rolls, cranberry cakes, and other 'light' fare that will help people get through the meeting is set on the table, and Trueth whispers something to the house staff, smiling. "Our servants are pleased to serve you tonight, they'll provide you with refills. I'm Lady Trueth Redreef to those that don't know me, and to those who do know me, it's a pleasure to see you again, especially in our home. Help yourselves." She takes one of the smoked salmon treats and bows to everyone before moving to have a seat.

Ember's demeanor suits her temperament for the reason she is here, thus Lucrezia enters with her sharp mouth pressed to a thin line and greets no one, but instead takes a casual lean upon one of the walls. She turns her eyes first to Haakon, listening intently.

Ian comes in more or less with Wash, although because of the way Ian tends to watch his feet while he walks, he never REALLY looks like he's with anyone when he's walking, just nearby them. But they probably came over here together given that they probably came from the same place. He doesn't seem entirely comfortable in the close quarters of the room (which is odd for someone who grew up on a ship, if we're being honest) and retreats to a wall to lean against. Probably a wall near the rum. He looks vaguely disreputable leaning there, but that's nothing new.

Norah steps forward, folding her hands in front of her. "I am Marquessa Norah Eswynd. While I am not the military expert in the family, I do have a keen interest in the proceedings and I hope to be of some assistance in my own way."

Dame Irisa Wainryte is definitely not an islander, but there is no lack of confidence to her as she enters the hall. The commoner wears a long black dress with red stitching and a red swordbelt and sash to match for the diamondplate on her left hip. There is no missing the golden eagle hairpins, the sigil of Malvici on her hair. She does not raise a fuss nor attempt to introduce herself. She merely enters the hall and moves to stand at the rear, hands folded in front of her while she listens.

"Alas, I claim no mast to brad about. But, I would introduce myself anyway. I'm Lady Azova Darkwater, and while I am not a combatant, you will find that I'm quite useful on the field... or ship, of battle. And if you have not already reached out to Lady Eirene Riven so that we can assure that you have a Mercy and a Physician aboard your ships, I implore you to do so now before I become annoying. And message you all of the time. Or ask you every time I see you if you've coordinated with her yet. You do /not/ want to be without healers." The redhead insists, with what may be both an impish and a dangerous smile. "In advance of the battle against the Skal'dajan ships."

Alarissa is on Victus' heels and as he settles off to a corner, she follows suit to arrange her skirts and sit beside him, alaricite arm arranged to rest in her lap.

Wulfrum arrives just before the announcement from the Baroness a scent of smoke trailing him as he moves to claim some of that premium elbow room. Since Azova does all the mast talk needed he instead stays seated and has a servant bring him some rum.

From the opposite corner of Prince Victus, "Lord Griffin." And that is that.

Wash carries a bottle of rum over to the couches, props up a foot and says: "I'm Wash Kennex, Admiral of Thrax. What he wants done at sea..." Wash points at Victus. "...I do."

Haakon doesn't name himself formally. The rough Prodigal draws a deep breath and gets right to it. "Had words with the Seraceni on the first battle between Pravus and the Eurusi in the Near Saffron. If I get aught amiss, speak up," the Eswynd adds that last with a dry curl of his lip to Lucrezia. "By his account, Pravus had the larger fleet. They tried using fire, but only burned up a lot of their own fleet when it were turned back on them by the Nointy Bastard." A terriblle mispronunciation of Anointed Master, "He conjured storms and sky fire that snapped masts and broke oars, left most of the Pravus fleet immobile and foundering. The Eurusi warships picked off the stranded Lycene ships by normal means: arrows, artillery bolts, boarding."

The reaver continues, "It seems the Pravus flagship were so fucking special that it turned sorceries back on the Eurusi, which let the Pravus caravel board the Skal flag and kill the Nointy Bastard. Sorcerer died, control of the slaves was broken, battle were won, but Pravus lost much of their armada. That were against a fleet with one sorcerer. By best guess, in the battle ahead we'll face eighteen."

A sharp exhale and Haskon speaks on. "So. If any body heard Seraceni claim that the solution to storms and sky fire was to cluster ships tight together and thought it were the stupidest fucking thing you'd ever heard.. it is. But his logic were that only the ships nearest their magic boat are safe and all others are fucked. Don't fully believe it, but that's his thinking. When I asked him what made the magic ship so special and whether it could be repeated on another vessel or few. Said he didn't know and wouldn't ask. So I'll ask," he looks directly to Princess Lucrezia and voices bluntly, "What makes your ship so special, and can it be repeated on another vessel or few?"

Shyanne looks over to Azova, "Lady Shyanne Eswynd, Healer.." she smiles a little looking to the other healer, she looks to the others and she gives everyone a nod of her her head to those that have introduce themselfs

Marina wouldn't dream of stealing Ember's thunder - but she is there along with Ember, sitting rather than standing but still providing proper time for a double-take for those unfamiliar when attention drifts from her sister. Legs crossed, one boot tip tapping up and down against the underside of her chair's armrest, "A certain amount of naval acumen is going to be handy - at least when it comes to describing those things like bottom depths and currents and everything else that makes a sea battle like a land one but with up and down changing sides all the time." Foot comes down and, leaning forward, she seems at least more engaged now as arms spread and her smile beams out brightly, "So those unfamiliar with the waves, pair off with someone that looks like they're a little drunk and swaggering even when you know they're sober."

The main hall of the Redreef Estate is alive with the din of rousing conversation when Scylla arrives; as usual, she's the last to show her marred mug, but at least she isn't terribly late this time. Flanking her left, and joining in the upbeat percussion of her determined gait, strides a flame-haired, bearded man. They're bandying words in a discreet enough volume to avoid an eavesdropping ear, at first, but with standing room growing scarce, the conversation comes to an abrupt end. Baroness Ember's commanding voice fills the room, and the full weight of Scylla's razor sharp gaze is leveled upon her with rousing interest. When the floor is open to introductions, the woman's eyes turn to touch each face in the crowd, and her raspy voice resounds to say, "Scylla, Admiral of the Blackshore 2nd Fleet."

5 Eswynd shieldbearers, Valkyrie, a blue-eyed crow arrive, following Oskar.

The corners of Ian's mouth turn downward briefly when the meeting's subject turns to magic all of five minutes in. He pours himself a glass of rum and takes a long drink, with the air of someone resigned to this being a long night.

Trueth checks composure at normal. Trueth marginally fails.

Norah looks from Haakon to Lucrezia with great interest. "Indeed, Princess Lucrezia, if there is any additional protection we could add to our fleet, I certainly would like to know of this." The Marquessa's genteel Islander accent is extra crisp and precise as she says this, her blue eyes keen.

Quietly, Oskar makes a late entrance, searching for his fellow Eswynd in order to join them. A wink is spared to Trueth as he notices his protege among the crowd.

Valdemar enters the hall and quietly finds a spot, choosing to pay attention to what Haakon has to say instead of introducing himself. When the Eswynd Lord asks what made the Pravus flagship so special, his attention turns to Lucrezia.

As soon as Haakon starts talking about the Pravus fleet, magic, and turning his gaze to Lucrezia, Trueth says, "Oh dear," and begins to wring her hands, salmon treat already eaten - which gives more time to wring her hands nervously. She has a word with the servants, who start circling the room with bottles and glasses. She waves to Oskar with some excitement - or nervousness, depending.

Nox, a kitten black as pitch with star-dappled fur, 2 Blackshore Marine arrive, following Ophira.

Romulius has so far been keeping to himself for the evening, content to watch the gathering crowd in the flanks of the hall. He settles in to a comfortable enough spot as introductions are made, electing not take the time to do so himself, instead listening to Haakon's question to Lucrezia with some interest.

Azova looks around at all the rum now that she's been a loudmouth healer and scolded everyone into making sure they have healers onboard their ships; and, when talk of magic and nointy bastards and what sounds a lot like certain death begins, she pours herself a really heavy measure of sum. "I'd really rather not die to some fucker with a weather fetish. But, well. Hopefully I won't drown." she mutters towards Wulfrum and Carita as she drinks, leaning over to whisper something towards her sister after a moment's thought.


Ember seems to display something resembling human emotion when the members of her family speak; Trueth and Marina in particular cause the Baroness to lift one corner of her mouth in something like a smirk. She accepts a cup from Shyanne with a nod, and then listens to Haakon's tale.

"'Nointy Bastards?'" Ember says. "...I suppose it means something in their tongue." The Baroness steps forward, lifting up a hand as the Eswynds question Lucrezia. "Marquessa Norah, Lord Haakon, a moment, please." Ember enforces a pause, and then says: "Firstly, we must all heed the words of Lady Azova. Those whose fleets have not arranged for healers sufficient to your fleet's size -- do so, with speed. Now then. Back to... 'magic ships.' I do not expect there to be enough magic to go around for the whole of the Compact fleet. What seems practical to ask about is if you, Princess Lucrezia, or if any occult scholars present, know of any /wards/ that we might employ in self-defense."

Argent, a silver hound, Tyce the gruff and disapproving, 2 Scarlet Phoenix Guard, Starboard an excited Oakhaven bloodhound arrive, following Juliana.

Shyanne listens to Ember and she moves to murmer to Haakon a moment quietly, whilest listening.

Right at the wake of her family is Natasha Thrax, to the back and side of Victus and Alarissa, and fresh from a quick trip from Maelstrom, having just returned to the city just this afternoon. Compared to her brother's ceremonial armor and her sister-in-law's impeccable sense of style, she's a spartan but sharply elegant figure clad in deep purple today, moving like the latter two's amethystine shadow. She, too, is silent when she situates herself by them, and listens to the words exchanged once they find open air.

"Didn't the Compact bring a thunderstorm against the Gyre's invasion fleet on the shores of Stormwall. Instead of looking to magical ships, why not just seek the answers to something we've already done in defense of Avrum." Wulfrum wonders as the rum is brought to him and he gives it a swirl and a sip after making his query.

Truth is not always flattering, but Lucrezia gestures to Haakon and nods, indicating that his rendition of what had transpired is accurate. To his final question, she narrows her eyes. She looks about the room with a smile cruel and cold. "You *could*, but none of you want to pay the price. Some choices cannot be undone. I wanted power. I got it." She glances towards Victus. "It is somewhat like the Thrax's flying ship. There is *one* Wanton and unless you want to do what I did to become Wanton..." She shakes her head. "Killing our own allies is stupid beyond measure at this point.

"As for protections... coming up with a strategy to neutralize or remove those mages as fast as possible is the best hope."

Juliana slips on, pausing to get her barings then starts making her way through the room. There is a nod for the various cousins, both Thrax and Pravus, a touch to Romulius' shoulder as she passes, a kiss to Carita's cheek before the Igniseri Lady finds a seat near Ian.

"If it is consolation, this is the Eurusi, hindered by the tainted primium." Alarissa offers up. "They are affected by it. It makes their spells weaker, harder to perform. So we can count our meager blessings that we do not face the full brunt."

Ian is leaning against a wall, but there are probably seats nearby. He just looks like he's trying to be out of the crush of people in the small room. Somehow. Maybe he'll spontaneously learn how to phase through walls.

Norah looks momentarily aghast at Lucrezia's open admission, but schools her expression, leaning in to say something quietly to Haakon.

Ian adds to what Alarissa just said: "I just saw one of them make someone explode, so they can still do that much."

Dark brows furrow faintly at the next explanations, before Natasha leans in further towards her party, murmuring a few words.

Irisa, the Malvici Knight, holds her post by the rear door and watches the crowd and listens without comment. Her eyes flicker to each as they speak up. If she has any thoughts on what is being discussed, it is carefully schooled to her expression. There's a glance towards a few particular people, but she otherwise keeps quiet.

Alarissa looks to Ian. "That was them weakened and hampered."

Chuckles, a morose raven have been dismissed.

3 Redreef Wardens have been dismissed.

Did someone say Seraceni? Not particularly one for being most places on time, the Siren of Setarco makes her way into the hall with auric eyes ablaze. Dark head is dipped in greeting towards everyone who'd made themselves presentable, lips curled into a rather loose smile despite the topic at hand and as Blackshore's Minister of Relations does she go to stand with the inky retinue looking to be comprised of Scylla and Romulius.

The flow of conversation had been detected, however, nodding head towards the Pravus Princess in silent agreement, " Yes, but even a shred of what they can do is disastrous enough. " Uttered lightly towards Alarissa, offering a wry smile, " Admiral Scylla and I are currently underway to further our previously discussed plans of laying pots of hidden Arvani fire as a barricade of sorts. What other suggestions are there in order to defend and negate effects? We can sit around and talk in a ring all day about how dangerous they might be but I know we've some of the smartest naval minds here in this room. What else have we uncovered?"

Haakon snorts at the answer he's given, and shakes his head. The Prodigal reaver heard out other voices, before sitting back and turning his eye to Victus, Valdemar, Oskar, and Wash, in turn.

Valdemar rolls his eyes, but continues to listen to the proceedings.

Shyanne frowns a bit as she looks over to Lucrezia and she licks her lips slightly shaking her head a bit and brushing her hair slightly aside as she looks from one to another.

Half a bottle of rum's gone by the time a wide-eyed Nimue tips it down and takes a break from letting her eyes bounce between talk of Bastards, and ensorcelled slaves, and flying ships, spontaneous explosions--

After a lingering, bemused look towards Ember, she returns her attention to the room and offers, "/I/," with the supreme confidence of a woman who just tanked half a bottle of rum, "am distinctly sure that I would like /not/ to be detonated."

And then, after a firm nod, it's back to drinking.

"What about an artificial reef? We intentionally scuttle several ships near a coast line and bait the fight there. The foreign fleet advances, takes hole beneath the waterline or beached on the rigging of the scuttled vessels. Storm or no storm sitting ships can be torn apart by ballistas faster than moving ships." Wulfrum suggests on his path to finish the first glass of rum.


"Some choices cannot be undone. Indeed." Ember draws in a long breath through her nose after she echoes Lucrezia's words. "We must remember that our goal is to win this war without sacrificing all that we are fighting to uphold." Ember says it a bit hollowly, like it's the point she's contractually obligated to read, the terms and conditions part of the going-to-war spiel. Nimue's comment earns a "So noted, cousin. We will endeavor to keep your insides inside. I hope you do the same and don't eat anything after all that rum."

Ember turns her eyes toward Ophira: "Their apparent sickness offers us one advantage. I had hoped that there might be symbolic ways to counter their magic, runes and wards and the like, but... that would be too easy, wouldn't it?" Ember's eyebrows bounce. "Mm. Your proposition gives me a thought, Lord Wulfrum. There are many... strange places within the Compact. Places of particular power. Do we have any inkling of how those affect the mages' sickness? Would it pollute them further? Heal them to any extent?"

Norah looks over at Wulfrum. "That is a fascinating idea. How many ships would we need to sacrifice for this artificial reef to be effective, do you think?"

Trueth finally stops hovering again, and moves to sit down with cousin-in-law Nimue. Anyone who is drinking heavily is a safe bet.

"Closer they are to the cost less ships need to be scuttled. A few as two could cover a strategic position assuming they are sizeable enough. Not caravels or Dromonds but Cogs have considerable size and numerous masts or galleys. Not cheap but if it's between exploding ships and scuttling a couple to make it easier to kill the bastards." Wulfrum shrugs then and looks towards Haakon, "I believe our newest Sea Lord might have more fanciful ideas than me, he's been discussing Eurusi ship tactics since his house was ennobled."

3 Thrax Guards, 2 Thrax Elite Guards, Lady Teonia Redreef, Aryka Wyrmfang, Marquessa Pudding, a doughy dog arrive, following Sorrel.

Has Carita been here the whole time? Or did she wander in with everyone else and just remained as she usually does, quiet? It's anyone's guess, but she shifts from one foot to the other as she listens, a smile appearing as Wulfrum speaks.

Wash says, "I would argue that you need at least two ships scuttled for each ship you hope to stop. It's an expensive gambit."

"He's been fighting Eurusi slave ships since his house was ennobled," Ian says of Haakon to no one in particular. "Stands to reason he'd care about their tactics."

Shyanne tilts her head a little "I also need a ship to be assigned to for a house without a healer or one that might need an extra." she says quietly

Sorrel has totally been here awhile. Subtly. Because Sorrel is subtle as she tries to hide her lack of punctuality behind Carita. (Not actually that subtle.)

Thoughtful, a lone manicured digit taps against chin as Ophira's gaze shifts towards Wulfrum, "It would certainly help cut cost if these were ships already rendered useless for war. If Blackshore can set up these seaweed drifting fire pots, you could dot the missing areas with a raised reef? Create a maze of sorts, perhaps."

The shift of Sorrel as she tries to blend catches the once Seraceni Voice's eye, letting it rest for a moment on the woman before speaking up again, "Essentially, I'd like to coordinate such an idea if this is another tactic you'd like to use.

Haakon turns an eye on Wulfrum that is both proud and prickly. "Eswynd were kings centuries before I were born. We're new to the Compact, not to nobility." That said he adds on the subject of tactics, "We'll have better scouts than they. Even if the Nointy Bastards hire local Shavs like the Gildorians did.. Mayhap we can bring them to where we want. And I've many notions, but few matter here: in any normal measure, our fleet will annihilate them. That only leaves the unnatural means to dwell on. Do we *want* to face the fuckers all at once, or draw their fleet piecemeal?"

Wash says, "Stationary defenses rely on our ability to predict the target that Skally fleet intends to target. Do we have any intelligence in that regard?"

Trueth asides quietly to someone in the room, really anyone, "What does Nointy mean and why does he keep saying it?" Finally, one of the servants brings her a biiiig glass of rum. She doesn't hesitate starting to drink.


"Mm." Ember has set her cup of rum down so that she can go back to clasping her hands behind her back, shoulders out, spine straight. She turns to look at Shyanne: "I had imagined you would aid the Redreef ships," she says, off-handedly, to her House's foster. Her eyes then settle on Trueth: "'Anointed Masters.' Sorcerers. Though admittedly I thought that Lord Haakon was attempting to call them 'nonces' at first."

"Well. One cat was already let out of the bag, so to speak," Ember continues, addressing the room. "I do not know where they plan to reach, only that if it lies beyond the Saffron Chain, it will be the southern Isles that they reach next. However. We can guide them, perhaps." Ember turns to stare directly at Victus across the hall. "Perhaps by dropping barrels of fire from the sky."

A glance towards Haakon, "If you use the suggested tactics that were just stated, it would be more advantageous to disentangle them. Besides, the more you pull them away from crew they might use for these blood magics, the better chance they won't be able to launch a larger magically manifested assault." Ophira adds with Pravosi lilt.

"What does Thrax have the Nightstar hidden away that they can fly about dropping firebombs?" Wulfrum asks sarcastically with a look to Victus.

Wash says, "I just assumed it was someone in a fancy pointed hat. Nointy sounds like a name for a fancy pointed hat."

At Haakon's question as to whether it is more desirable to fight the Eurusi all at once or piecemeal, Valdemar considers for a moment before finally speaking up, "That depends on which way makes their magic-users easiest to fight. It seems that our best weapon for that is the Nightstar." Here, he looks to the High Lord. "You know the capabilities of that weapon better than anyone else here, your Grace. What do you say?" he goes on to ask Victus.

Shyanne looks over to Trueth and she laughs a bit "Annoying is what you might like to choose instead. Though she grins then to Wash "well never know."

Juliana sits near Ian as she listens to the debate, her gaze shifting from person to person. It's not until Ember mentions barrels of fire that the young woman clears her throat lightly, brows arching just a little. Otherwise she remains quiet.

"The Nightstar will be loaded with barrels of Arvani fire as well as archers, to ensure supremacy from the air." Victus proclaims toward Ember's suggestion. "How effective that will be is yet to be seen, so it certainly will not solve every problem. And if we become a burning ball of fire due to one misstep, that advantage will be gone very quickly." He cranes his head toward Valdemar next. "The Nightstar's weaponry has a very high chance of causing collateral damage, potentially more than we can afford. It's best suited to being used in groups of ships, as I believe firing its weaponry just once would be a waste. We have a very finite amount of shots."

"Just once to eliminate one ship, I mean." Victus corrects.

Wulfrum makes a soft ~uh~ sound at the announcement that Thrax DOES have the Nightstar.

Alarissa looks to Victus and there's a thin press of her lips then to the room. "It's not -the- Nightstar. It's -a- Nightstar." In case people start wondering.

"I didn't necessarily mean the weaponry of the Nightstar. Even without that, your Grace, the ship /itself/ is a weapon because it can reach places normal ones cannot. But how well will we be able to target their magic users from the sky? Do we need spotters to somehow mark the targets we need to hit?" Valdemar points out in response to what the High Lord tells him.

Shyanne looks to the princess and she tilts her head "is there a difference?" she asks quietly curiously

Norah looks sharply to Alarissa. "There are /more/ of them, your highness?" Her blonde brows meet the scar at her hairline.

Wash says, "It's probably safest to plan any engagement without relying on a single vessel to be a linchpin of our strategy."

The dark-haired princess' expression mirrors Alarissa's own, especially when Victus' remarks get to a finite number of shots. Unconsciously, Natasha's fingers ball tightly into a fist on her lap, but otherwise her marble veneer remains impassive, albeit hardened by the mention of the flying ship. Midnight eyes draw towards Wash afterwards, a grateful cast upon them and silently communicated to the Kennex lord.


"How many the Nightstars /are/ there?" Nimue wonders with arched brows between gulps.

"Like," comes quieter, "enough for an /all/ fire from the sky campaign, orrrrr...?"


5 Grimhall House Guards have been dismissed.

Gustav, a gruff Islander advisor have been dismissed.

Vladimir, a shaggy brindle Grim Wolfhound have been dismissed.


Ember paces as the conversation continues. She walks over to where Trueth and Nimue sit, and rests one hand on Trueth's shoulder like some kind of silent 'be strong' encouragement. She does not do the same to Nimue because even seated, Nimue is too tall and it would look silly.

Ember herself doesn't so much as blink at the Nightstar talk. She's in some kind of zone, and it's probably a zone populated by visions of dead and dying Skal'dajans. "If we lob firebombs, we need not necessarily be precise -- we just need a lot of firebombs." Ember seems weirdly excited by the idea of 'a lot of firebombs.' "Get the drop on their fleet while it's massed up and drop enough fire on them to scatter them. Any who burn to death are a bonus. And these artificial reefs and further bombs can be placed at likely points they'll scatter toward. Ideally points where we can then stage further ambushes while they're disoriented."

Q-bert an Albino Possum, 2 Eswynd shieldbearers, 2 Redreef Wardens leave, following Shyanne.

When a natural lapse in conversation presents itself, Scylla speaks up to say, "Perhaps that may be your primary purpose for setting up a blockade with scuttled ships: to funnel the enemy fleet into a tight group, with our ships as bait and at a distance to reduce collateral damage. Stray Skal'dajan ships that do not take the bait can be anticipated to go around, via some another direction, which is where our hidden barrels of Arvani fire may be of most use. If the trap is set correctly, it may at least reduce their numbers enough to be more easily managed." With that the woman turns her gaze upon the hostess of this evening's strategy session. "I do want to second Baroness Ember's idea to pursue wards for our ships, if at all possible. We simple folk as want to board and dispatch their crews would appreciate it very much."

Wash says, "The engagement with the Eurusi previously, what time of day was it, did I mess that information Lord Eswynd?"

"There /were/ other Nightstars, yes. Nightstar is a specific class of ship, as a Dromond or a Galley. The former generations are either destroyed, lost, or something else that renders them out of reach." Victus replies toward Norah and Alarissa in kind. "The technicalities aren't important at the moment. We have /one/ Nightstar and we do not have the means to construct another one before battle is upon us." Back to Valdemar then. "Hit and run tactics, you mean? Yes, I think that would be more efficient than unloading its full potential all at once. We would be faster than any sea-faring vessel, it may be possible to close distance and drop a boarding party from the sky. Or rain arrows from well behind their guard. But again, this is all uncharted territory for combat tactics. As Lord Wash says, we won't be able to build a strategy /entirely/ around the ship."

5 Grimhall House Guards, Gustav, a gruff Islander advisor, Vladimir, a shaggy brindle Grim Wolfhound leave, following Valdemar.

Trueth reaches back to pat Ember's hand, her eyes glazed over at the talk. She clears her throat softly - not to bring up any big talking points - but to lubricate the throat before she drinks some more of her rum and tries to listen.

Ian exchanges a few words with Juliana in a low voice, shaking his head as he does so.

Haakon peers aside at Ember as she corrects his mangling of Anointed Master. "That what they're called? Huh. Well, fuck em." That eloquent commentary offered, he returns his attention to the exchange between Victus, Wash, and the others. "We'll have numbers and skill on them, before the battle joins. Let our scouts spread and dye our arrows red, ship by ship. They pursue, we flee. They chase, we ambush. Don't present a target rich enough to draw sky fire, until we have them under the hammer."

Juliana frowns, chewing on her lip then nods looking back to the room.


The Redreef Estate's hall is a bit cramped for space, with so many luminaries of the peerage present. There's also, quite frankly, an insane amount of Redreef Shores rum on hand. It's excessive.

More subdued is Ember, who stands by her cousins Trueth and Nimue, hand idly rested on Trueth's shoulder. She uses her other hand to gesture toward Scylla. "If any among us are held in any esteem by the Scholars, perhaps now would be the time to cash in favors owed. Ways to protect our navy -- without blood sacrifice -- are essential, not only to keeping our navy... well, alive, but to breaking the sorcerers' spirit. They are already sick; they will only grow sicker; to find 'mere' Compact soldiers resisting them to an unexpected extent would be a nice little knife between the ribs of their self-confidence."

Wash says, "Alright. The easiest way to counter the magic of the Eurusi is to engage them at nightfall. In the dark, the range of their magics will be limited to summoning storms and hitting what they can see in front of them. Step one is find them, step two, identify which ships hold their Nointies. Step three, keep your distance until nightfall, step four close on them in the dark and focus down the vessels with Nointies. Maybe use a fireship as a distraction. Once enough of the nointies are fed to the deeps, they'll run. As Haakon says, by any record, we have the numbers on them. But the numbers we've heard, do those include those of the Traitor Ivan?"

Ian sighs and rubs his forehead, turning his gaze down to his feet. He takes a drink.


Piccola is late -- again.

She looks rather like she pulled herself out of bed recently, and then elected to ride all the way across the city to attend. The Lycene Ward //is// located catty-corner from the Thraxian Ward, after all. But was she //really// sleeping? Yeah, probably.

She just seems to appear, really, having somehow managed to stealthily nab a drink before finding herself a corner to lean in.



" We'll continue to look into ways of helping to ward our vessels and also stick to the plan outlined. I do agree that while the Nightstar is indeed a powerful weapon in and of itself, it can't be fully relied upon nor should it be." Tawny eyes flicker towards Ember, " Blackshore's Admiral and Minister of War, I'm sure, would be more than willing to coordinate blockade efforts to run these Skal'dajan fools through a fiery maze when that discussion is ready to be had and then submitted for approval. I would suggest only key few are informed lest there be any listening ears in places unexpected."

A pause as attention rests on Wash, "Unless they've just recently sacrificed to feed something in the abyssal depths then the time of day won't matter. Plus, the chance of accidentally hitting one of our own is increased should you wait until nightfall."

"In a similar vein, with respect to keeping our navy alive," Natasha begins. "Are we coordinating at all with Lady Eirene Riven's initiative in ensuring at least some physicians and healers are present in our ships?"


"I'm guessing swimming on board, and cutting throats under the cover of darkness isn't an option, right...?"

Nimue gives it a beat before gesturing towards the nearest servant to fetch her some manner of refreshment.

"Because of the, you know."

As her free hand circles briskly, she takes a long drink.

"The fire, and everything."

"They can make people explode," Ian reminds Nimue.

Wash says, "Time of day absolutely matters, unless they can see in the dark."

Gustav, a gruff Islander advisor arrives, delivering a message to Victus before departing.


Armed with her drink, Piccola looks to the side for a moment.

A movement catches her attention. She turns away from the conversation -- she wasn't a part of it, really -- and moves towards where Irisa sits on her own. There, the seemingly-ubiquitous General slowly lowers herself to sit, and lets out a breath quietly. A grateful expression comes over her weary features.

She then continues to listen silently.



Lucrezia just listens, nodding at points and chuckling at others, but offering no commentary today.

"Yeah, but in their sleep??" Nimue wonders with rising brows.

Scylla raises her hand up to pinch at the bridge of her freckled nose.

Ian just shrugs to Nimue. "Not a chance I'd take."

"There is never a time when the whole of a crew is asleep," Norah points out.

"I'd just like to note that not even Arvum's best healer can put together someone who has been exploded." Azova points out dryly.


Nimue just slumps in place a little with a soft, "Hff," and a brief sip.

"I can /definitely/ take a sleeping guy," she grouses. "Even if he /can/ make me explode."

Irisa looks to Piccola as she joins her. There's a respectful bow of her head to the General before she speaks, her hushed tone meant only for Piccola. Probably a recap.

Natashaexchanges a few soft words with her family, before drawing out her journal from the pockets of her gown, and writing a note within it.

Wash says, "The horizon is 15 miles from the crow's nest. A fast ship can close that in an hour if the weather is right and they stand absolutely still. That's an hour of people getting ready to cause you to explode when you are in range. No, the easiest to negate the advantage of the poncy hat people is to keep the engagement at night, muffled oars, dark lanterns, longboats that close to grips before they can even summon a storm."


"Lady Azova spoke of it, Princess Natasha, and I will remind all present again to ensure that you take Lady Eirene up on this, if you do not have healers of your own sufficient to cover the number of your troops. However," Ember says, and she says an extra-loud 'However' directly over Nimue speaking, "I think that we have presented solid ideas. The minutes of this meeting will be distributed, minus any... sensitive, proprietary notions..." Ember again looks right at Victus, on that one.

"...and strategy can be formed, ideally with the other five Great Houses so we do not just ram six flagships into one another, all trying to be the first to draw blood." Ember breathes out through her nose, silently. "But to return to the topic of healers. Separate from our fleets, I believe it prudent that all major ports in the southern Isles prepare to receive broken ships full of wounded men and women. Those ships who endure battle and survive will not come away pristine -- and beyond the ports within the Saffron itself, we will be some of the closest to the fray. So we should expect, and prepare for, massive amounts of triage."

"Why should ports in the Compact prepare. Does Pravus not have a stronghold port in the Saffron Chain?" Wulfrum asks bluntly. "Would it not be best for the supply lines and the survival of our ships to make port there rather than the full journey back to the Compact?"

Briar, a quiet young woman arrives, delivering a message to Victus before departing.

Lucrezia tilts her head, listening to some sound not in the room. After nodding to herself, she turns her attention to Wulfrum. "IF their aim is truly to dig Pravus out of the Saffron Chain and punish us for the affront of freeing their slaves that would put the gravely wounded and the backbone of our supply at the very place they will be focusing their main attack. Make no mistake, it is us that want to stop them in the water, not them that will want to engage us there. If they don't have enough survive to be able to assault our holdings, they will have failed this battle." Not the war.

Victus unfurls a letter, handed to him by a quiet servant. After a quick read, he raises his voice for the procession. "Prince Sebastian Pravus has declared that Pravus' holdings in the Saffron Chain shall be opened, to resupply as needed. He has pointed out the city of Pieros, specifically. He names Crimson Shark, Princess Allegra Pravus as the head of operations there."

Wash applauds loudly. "Well said and well done. There's a good chap, Sebastian. Always liked him."

Wash is overheard praising Sebastian: Understanding the importance of both logistics and politics. Remarkable man.

"If the fortified ports cannot holdoff fleets than the war in the Saffron Chain is already lost. Keeping even damaged vessels in port provides a deterrant to blockades and as we have already stated... We may need to sacrifice our own ships to win by scuttling to create reefs or in the event of a blockade fireships." Wulfrum points out as he beckons for a second rum now.

Juliana whispers another few words to Ian, smirking at his reply. Then turns back, only to glance at Wash with a chuckle.


"If retreat becomes necessary, we have no way of knowing which direction it might send us," Ember says. "The gracious opening of House Pravus's ports is something that should hopefully cause all of us to breathe a bit easier." She doesn't applaud, but she does sound a little relieved. "I still feel it prudent to be prepared for as many possibilities as possible -- even a successful campaign can still bring home soldiers whose wounds have grown infected."

"And speaking of infection," Ember notes, "there is the matter of Ivan and his loyalists. Whatever forces we send to fight in the Saffron are forces that will not be present to defend our domains should Ivan decide to attack while our attention is elsewhere."

"Doesn't have to be Ivan," Ian puts in. "There's a lot of people paying Prince Victus lip service who'd like to see Helianthus in charge, and their navies are all staying in the Isles."

"I recall a system of seaforts and early warning systems made. Will this not allow us to concentrate our reduced forces against rebels?" Wulfrum asks with a look to Carita and then around the room. "It was a considerable investment I recall."

Wash says, "Nor do we know for certain that the numbers of Eurusi currently include the remnants of his fleet. Stormward is a likely target, as loyalists prioritized them in the past. Lip service means they've raised their banners and sent some of their ships with the Thrax Leviathan. I'll ensure they are deployed in a way that they cannot easily retreat from an engagement and return home en masse unnoticed. Those at home still..."


Ember nods to Wulfrum. "Indeed. However, reduced forces are still reduced forces. And I have no desire to make things any easier for the traditionalists." She wags her eyebrows, and finally takes her hand off of Trueth, pacing to a different part of the room. "As I have discussed with some of the others in this room, I will be pushing forward efforts to engage with the major shav tribes in my waters. Try to convince them that even if they have no love for the Compact or for Prince Victus -- His Grace is still the preferable option to Ivan fucking Helianthus. As I've put it before, I don't necessarily care if this wins me more friends -- I will settle for Ivan having more enemies, and his allies having more pirate raids to worry about."

"I'll take 'better than Ivan, at least' over something like 'usurper' or 'bastard'." Victus muses from his corner, lifting his shoulders in a shrug.

Wash says, "Not a high bar to clear even so."


After conferring with Irisa for a few moments, Piccola holds up her hand.

She doesn't speak out, though. Just puts her hand up, as if she wanted to say something. Or ask something.

Someone's //trying// to be polite.




Ember glances around the room, waiting a beat for any responses that don't involve raises hands. She leans in to murmur with Norah for a moment, then points toward Piccola.

Alarissa lifts a brow at Victus but only adjusts her skirts.


After being pointed at, the General gets up to her feet.

"Good evening." Piccola pulls back her hood, and inclines her head respectfully. "I did not hear of this, so I thought I should ask before proposing a suggestion." Beat. "May I presume that efforts to track the fleet to a base of operations have proved fruitless?"

And then she stays standing, awaiting the response.



There's a faint lowering of her lashes once discussions turn to the Apostate, Natasha's stylus absently working the small etching of a cross on the bottom corner of her open page. She doesn't seem to be conscious of it, listening to the rest now that her question has been addressed and confirmation from Sebastian about the ports issue coming in hot and live in the midst of discussion. There's a touch of relief on her pale mien on both issues, though her attention shifts over to Piccola now.

Trueth makes sure that the servants are still circling the room with the booze, and now trying to push food on people too. She's listening still, having perked up considerably at the mention of healers, but now her attention turns to Piccola.

Jules and Ian whisper a little more before Juliana finally stands and makes her way quietly out.

Argent, a silver hound, Tyce the gruff and disapproving, 2 Scarlet Phoenix Guard, Starboard an excited Oakhaven bloodhound leave, following Juliana.

With Juliana gone, Ian sighs and returns his attention to the meeting. No more whispering and passing notes in the back of the class.

There is a glance to Piccola, offering a dazzling smile which is the first this evening, " That is an excellent question." A cant of head, "If no one here has an answer or has looked into it? Perhaps that is something we might want to put some effort into."

"What would you propose?"

Wash says, "The Thrax Leviathan has been at sea for months. We've responded to every report that comes in about the enemies' movements. At this time, the data indicates that they don't have a base of operations, or if they do, they visit it rarely. They restock and resupply both victuals and slaves by raiding shav islands. Those that escape, bring us word, we send ships to investigate to find the islands emptied, and the fields burned, no supplies to speak of. No survivors. This is promising because it suggests that they lack an established base of operations in the Saffron chain, but has made pinning them down difficult. I keep the bulk of the ships under my command in a position to respond to any sightings, but they've avoided conflict for now."

Griffin speaks up. "Therefore they must have a mobile base of operations."


Piccola looks to Wash, and then shrugs her shoulders, cool as a cat.

"This fleet sounds enormous. It has to require substantial resources." Beat. "If we cannot find its base of operations or it does not have one, then the fleet must raid." She presses her mouth into a thin line for a moment. "Raze as many islands as possible. Force the fleet to attack a particular island for supplies and be prepared to repel an attack there. But don't." Beat. "Retreat as a ruse. Draw the majority of their force away from their ships, then destroy them."

She then sighs, adding, "The forces on the island may suffer heavy casualties."




"The General makes an important point," Ember says. "No matter what staging ground -- it is almost certain that even in victory, we will suffer heavy casualties."

Ember's eyes fan around the room. "Whatever you do, before you set sail for this war -- spend time with your families, your children, your lovers. It may be their enduring memory of you. But what it will certainly be is your inspiration to fight -- and to win."

Ember turns toward Norah. "The Marquessa of House Eswynd has requested to address the room. I've exhausted my own points of discussion -- any who wish to address the room after the Marquessa may volunteer themselves to do so. As I said -- minutes will be distributed."

"Because the fleet is so large, it does make sense that they would perhaps have a base of operations. Remaining mobile with so much stock is burdensome and makes them easy targets - they'd have to unload somewhere." Ophira straightens her back, adjusting the folio in her hand, " Perhaps we might be able to arrange something with my brother, Lady Tessere."

At the closing words from Ember, gaze shifts towards Norah.

Wash looks confused.

Norah sets her little plate of fishy snacks aside and rises. "Gentle peers, goodpeople, I have a humble request. If you come across Ivan Helianthus or his lieutenants in battle, please look to see if they are carrying a rubicund blade: a sword, with a single cutting edge and a slightly curved blade. This blade is Bitter End, the sword of the erstwhile House Redshore, my house of origin. Having that blade returned would mean the world to me, and would come with a reward and my deepest gratitude." She nods her head once. "Thank you for listening. Ivan Helianthus must be destroyed." The Marquessa sits back down.


"Of course, Lady Blackshore."

Piccola nods to Ophira, and then slowly lowers herself to sit down next to Irisa. She murmurs something to the Knight of House Malvici, and then falls silent again.

To listen.



Victus shares a quick word with his family, then strides across the room to speak quietly to the Baroness. Once that's done, he gives a brisk nod and turns to make for the door.

Wulfrum appears to have a short murmuring with Wash before rising up and looking over the room. "The Leviathan is not the only massive fleet nor is Setarco's fleet the only one. While we prepare and plan for this expedition to the Saffron chain if we truly fear the rebels and those paying lip service to Thrax is it not now that we should inquire to the Crown and Faith to secure the hearth while we battle abroad for Avrum and the Faith? Both have expanded their navies significantly already."

Wulfrum says, "One could argue the Crown more than anyone else has cause to battle the Apostate Ivan given his betrayal is predicated on the return of the previous Monarch against his Son's current reign."

Ian raises his eyebrows. "If we're not here defending our own holdings, it's going to be tough to make a case that the King should defend them for us."

"The King should beat back the supporters of a Usurper where ever they are. The Isles more than any other fealty have sacrificed for Avrum and the Crown. We've sacrificed so much we now have a schism of traditionalists and progressives. The least the Crown can do is not sit in the Bay of Thrax but actually sails the waters of the isles." Wulfrum says flatly.

"While I am not in the habit of telling the King what he should do." Wash gently reminds. "It would not be a bad idea to hold the Grayson fleet in reserve so that we can respond to developments. Rather than risk all of our forces in one conflict. If numbers are the solution, Thrax, Lyceum and Pravosi fleets should be sufficient."


"You are the legendary sailor among us, Lord Wash," Ember says. "As well as... as you put it... the one who does what His Grace says. Or whatever it was you said." Ember may have been discreetly drinking rum for the past while. "If His Grace allows it, perhaps you might present this idea to House Grayson. There is no one who could argue that you don't know what you're talking about."

Standing up, Trueth moves to say something quietly to Ember. She bows to the room and then excuses herself.

3 Redreef Wardens leaves, following Trueth.

Wash says, "They raised their banners, they are already committed to the cause. They might resent being held in reserve. If his Grace wishes me to make those overtures, I will."

Orion, a healer's surly Assistant, 2 Redoubt Buccaneers leave, following Azova.

Scylla turns to lean in and whisper something briefly to her ruddy-haired captain, Samuel, and then turns to depart with him in tow.

Samuel, first mate of the Black Tide leaves, following Scylla.

Wash teases. "I appreciate you giving me other reasons Baroness, but I think we all know why you are sending me to talk to the Graysons."

Carita is overheard praising Ember: For being such a wonderful hostess.

Ian just shakes his head and leaves, pausing just long enough to mutter something to Ember on his way out.

4 Redoubt Buccaneers, Luna, the Darkwater Assistant leave, following Carita.

Wash is overheard praising Wulfrum: An oasis in the desert of ignorance.

Lucrezia walks out after the meeting has wrapped up.

a cabin boy, 6 Black Fleet Reavers leave, following Lucrezia.

Wulfrum has left the a curved comfortable couch.

2 Redoubt Buccaneers leaves, following Wulfrum.


Ember nods toward Wash. "We're nobility -- we're polite about these things." The meeting winds down from there, and Ember hangs back to watch as people depart. She doesn't go around saying fond goodbyes. Those who come up and speak to her (like, say, Ian) are given quiet responses, but for the most part, Ember is stoic. Her mind is on war.

Natasha is overheard praising Wash: For your invaluable expertise and willingness to dispensed much needed tactical advice.

Natasha is overheard praising Ember.

Maxene, the steadfast ladies maid, 3 Thrax Guards, 2 Thrax Elite Guards leave, following Alarissa.

3 Thrax Guards, 1 Thrax Elite Guards, Torsney, an attentive high strung law clerk leave, following Natasha.