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It was ludicrous. A rumour spreading like wild fire through Divinity's Reach, sullying the queen's reputation, threatening her authority and imperilling her presence at the summit. Conniving with Scarlet Briar. Complicity in the destruction of Lion's Arch.
Anyone in possession of some semblance of wit could see right through such blatant lies!
If she had scoffed upon reading Kasmeer's missive, Anwen fully realised the malevolent intent behind this conveniently timed assault against the crown. With the threat of the dragon growing each day – yet too distant, too ineffable for those who remained shielded behind the high walls of the capital, under the protection of the Seraph and the benevolence of the queen – the crown stood at her most vulnerable. Countess Anise herself requested aid, and this alone was cause for worry.
The last two years running about the country, defeating various threats ranging from centaurs to Elder Dragons and more recently terrorist sylvaris and feral barbed vines, had dissipated Anwen's memory of the Reach nobility's idea of a party. This one was probably not quite the most magnificent or extravagant she had been invited to, but in comparison to the simplicity of a round of drinks in good company in a tavern, or the blithe intimacy of avoiding the crowds after a victory, the effervescence of the garden – the lights, the music, the laughter, the scents of spirits and food and perfumes – was overwhelming.
Kasmeer was visibly ill-at-ease. Her name was still besmirched with scandal, and be they highborns or arrivistes, the people swarming around these parties lived for gossip and slander.
Instinct and old habits kicking in, Anwen gave her a little hip bump and offered her a reassuring smile. None of these haughty aristocrats held a candle to the threats they had already faced together, and they certainly paled in comparison to the collection of cuckold husbands, slighted fiances and vengeful fathers and uncles Faren had angered in their youth. They were merely an inconvenience to ignore.
Anise came to welcome them when the herald announced them.
Anwen listened distractedly to the polite salutations of the Countess – instructions and half veiled promises of a return to grace for Kasmeer should she succeed today – her attention caught up by a familiar shape, standing awkwardly at attention up the flight of stairs, waiting for Anise to return.
The sylvari narrowed his eyes at her, curtly responding to her nod yet unable to refrain his annoyance when she closed the gap between them, an intrigued frown on her face.
“Careful there.”, he quipped. “You don't want to be seen getting too friendly with the staff.”
“I didn't think our paths would cross again so soon, Canach. Why are you here?”
“I'm on the job. Bodyguard for a countess. A somewhat more glamorous position than my last, I must say.”
“A gilded cage.”, Anwen remarked. “I had heard your billet had been bought, but I didn't know it was Anise who had you freed.”
A cold realisation dawned upon her.
“Does that mean the countess owns you, now?”
The sylvari's glow intensified with his frown; she had touched upon a sensitive matter.
“That's harsh. I wouldn't say that. More like I'm on loan to her from the prison. So long as I'm a good grunt, she'll keep me with her and I don't have to go back in the cell.”
“I'll leave you to it then. I trust the allure of fresh air and natural light will be enough to keep you in line.”
“Absolutely. I'm no fool. I could be in a much worse situation than this. I guess you could say I learned my lesson.”, he admitted wryly. “So far, Countess Anise has treated me with respect. I have no reason to betray her trust. Besides, she amuses me mightily.”
Anwen nodded knowingly. Mesmers, much like pyrotechnics, had a power of fascination only surpassed by their power of destruction.
For all their differences, she and Canach had this in common : both more inclined to the honest brutality of explosions rather than the insidious manipulations of politics, both serving as decoys for the artful manoeuvres of illusionists.
In Anwen's case, that role went beyond simple distraction -- her very presence at the party laced with a half-veiled threat, a reminder of what end treacherous ministers were bound to meet if she led the investigation.
The tacit statement, it seemed, was not lost on the guests and whether out of legitimate sympathies, sheer intimidation or blatant defiance, tongues loosened easily around her -- encouraged by a kind smile, a passing jab or a not-so-innocently offered drink -- and under the careful scrutiny of Kasmeer, the veil of lies shrouding Minister Estelle dropped -- what was Anise's phrasing again? Ah yes! -- faster than Faren's dignity.