Kendrick is ushered into a plush office of wood paneling and over padded swivel chairs on wheels. In the corner stands a colorful globe, with several moons suspended around it. Sat behind his polished hardwood desk, Bleys examines several documents while he gestures for Kendrick to sit. He is clean-shaven but for a trim moustache, his hair cut neatly at shoulder length. He wears the same military uniform of the many soldiers in the Citadel, with additional gold braid and better fit.

 

"Your mother sends her apologies," Bleys says, replacing the documents in their folders and leaning back in his chair.  "She has pressing matters to attend to elsewhere, and likes to keep the servants guessing as to her whereabouts. Now, I understand you are a student of trump. I may have need of your skills."

 

Kendrick pulls up a chair and sits down.  He takes a moment to absorb his surroundings and nods slightly.  “Yes, I have some ability with Trump.  How can I be of assistance?”

 

"That rather depends on other factors, but your willingness is a good beginning," Bleys replies. "Trump artist are both a boon and a nuisance, since they can allow access to the Citadel and exit from it without authorization. What I need to know is how much I can depend on you."

 

Kendrick thinks about this for a moment before he answers, "I am completely loyal to the crown."

 

"Ah," says Bleys, raising a finger. "No matter who wears it?" He asks.

 

Kendrick smiles.  "Some people are meant to wear a crown and some people aren't."

 

Bleys returns the smile. "That depends on your perspective. Do you think your mother would make a good queen, for instance?"

 

Kendrick starts to laugh.  Bleys can probably tell that it is genuine laughter.  "I am sure mother thinks she would make an idyllic queen.  She may in fact be an ideal candidate, but no child wishes his parent to be 'unquestionable'..."  Kendrick stops for a moment and regains his composure.  "Seriously though, she was brought up for it.  She has a good grasp of the current political landscape.  I can think of worse candidates for the Jade throne.  I would support her."

 

"Interesting," Bleys replies. "There are not many candidates left now, after all. With Fiona missing, Brand likely dead...how would you see the succession? After all, if Flora were queen, you could claim to be Crown Prince. Amber law historically favours the male line."

 

"In my mind there are two candidates for the throne.  Both are equally suited for it.  My mother is one candidate, you are the other.  I believe either of you would make a good monarch.  Who, according to Amber Law, would be the next in line?  I would assume it would be you." 

 

"Well assumed," Bleys replies.

 

Kendrick pauses a moment.  "As far as being Crown Prince.  Yes, I probably would be the Crown Prince if my mother ascends the throne...whether I want it or not is another matter.  Afterall, with the title, comes a target."

 

"Don't worry, I'm sure there will be plenty of other toadys scrabbling for the title. How do you feel about responsibility?" Bleys enquires.

 

"I don't fear responsibility.  Being a member of this family brings with it inherent responsibility.  I don't believe the Universe is a plaything as so many of our family seem to feel.  As far as a title...I would probably assume it, if it were offered."

 

"How about Director of Communications? Our ministry seems to have lost its..er...head." Bleys offers.

 

[OOC] What does Kendrick know about that job, and it's previous occupant?

 

Not a great deal. Like the Inquisition, all of Brand's ministries were shrouded in secrecy. They produce all of the trump for the Citadel, and build in all manner of trips and traps to control their use and dissemination.  Very few trumps are produced (legally) outside the realms of the ministry.

 

[OOC] who was the former head of the ministry, and what do I know happened, if anything.

 

A faceless, gray administrator known simply as 'the Minister'. He was appointed by Fiona. He is believed to have come from one of the noble families from Mistral, a String of Pearls Shadow. It's entirely possible he bolted as soon as he knew Fiona was no longer in charge. No-one seems to know for sure.

 

"What would be my responsibility in that position?  What authority, and who would I report to?"  Kendrick replies.

 

"Directly to me. Within the ministry you are the supreme authority, though I expect you to work closely with the Royal Steward, who will be your main point of contact." Bleys explains.

 

"And the responsibilities of the position are what?"

 

"As with any directorship, manage and recruit staff, instigate projects and investigations, control training and distribution. That kind of thing."  Bleys replies.  “With what I have in mind, you'll need to work with representatives from the Pearls, too."

 

"It sounds like an interesting position.  I would be interested in it.  Where do I begin?"

 

"We can get you sworn in tomorrow. You will need to swear an oath of loyalty to the king. We can get you an advisor so you're up to speed pretty quickly." Bleys replies. "If you've anything else to add, you can raise it over breakfast."

 

A herald opens the door and invites Kendrick to retire.

 

Kendrick stands, bows and says, "Thank you for this opportunity."

 

"You're welcome," Bleys says. He is already poring over another sheaf of documents.

 

[Does Kendrick have any other plans this evening, or is he retiring for the night?]

 

Kendrick walks out, and returns to his rooms.

 

[Nope, Kendrick is done.]