50 Golden palace

A golden palace overlooked the sprawling streets, where the Duke of Costailles called his home. Marik led them towards that towering grandeur. The guards were used to him and allowed him to pass without much fuss. Only a quick explanation and introduction of his guests were needed to get past the first gate and into the main gardens.

They were given an escort, who confiscated their weapons before allowing them inside. It was merely standard procedure, but Julian noted that the security overall, was not too strict. 

He tried to recall the Duke of Costailles in his time, but in truth, the man didn't leave that big of an impression on him despite all the glittering marvels and material goods that he hoarded. Julian tried to remember why.

The golden palace had marble flooring with frescos laid into the walls, decorated with gold leaf. Decadent wasn't enough to describe the extravagance that exuded off the seaside building. There were few structures in all of the empire to match, even the industrial towers in the capital city couldn't hold a candle to the sheer majesty and excess that exuded from within.

Their steps echoed, the ceilings were tall with vibrant murals, paintings of the Shining Saints of the Divine Light. Ages past, Pyrpara had been a religious center for the Order of the Divine Light. However, their traditional approach to religion had grown distant and out of fashion with the citizens when the industrial wave hit the city and people became more accepting of foreign cultures to facilitate trade.

Funny enough, Pyrpara was never against magic and the manufacturing of Blueiron technology, unlike other schools of thought. At least, that had been the case the last time Julian visited this particular city.

Who knew how much things had stayed the same, and how much things had changed since the New Regime's reign. 

They were led to a wide hall where a scarlet carpet rolled out with golden embroidery. Unable to hold himself back, Julian blew a whistle, "I don't believe anywhere else in the empire could live up to the aesthetics of this place. I do wonder if Costailles's coffers could support such a luxurious palace. Or should I say, the Duke's own wallet?"

Marik paled at Julian's words, "Please don't speak so freely—"

Leonel gave the Doctor a warning jab in the ribs on Marik's behalf. "Behave," he snarled, "If you earn the duke's ire and end up on some wanted list again, do not expect me to come to your rescue."

"Ah!" Julian huffed as he nursed his bruised rib, face pulling in clear discontent. "Who said that I'm some damsel for you to rescue in the first place? I shall do as I please! And you, my darling, need to learn to mind your own business."

The hall was obscenely long and led to a golden throne that sat comfortably at the very end. A dark-skinned man sat upon it, his hair peppered and his garbs deep blue with golden trimming. A silken cape was draped over his shoulders, pale beige in hue. He wore a lazy smile with crow's feet at his eyes. He was older in age than Julian, roughly in his fifties. But despite his advanced age, he was not too sorry on the eyes for he was tall, his figure trim, and the line of his jaw and nose were all quite appealing coupled with the bright sparkle in his eyes.

Ah, this was the Lord Opheron, Duke of Costailles. Julian's recollections of him were vague because this man was never that big of a fan of stirring up trouble. Who knew he would keep Marik in his territory for so long? With all those Blueiron weapons! It did make Julian wonder if he had always been such a sly and slippery schemer.

Duke Opheron's smile stretched ever further as they approached. Was he merely a good actor or was his demeanor always this jolly? Ah, Julian's senile brain really needed a good kick. Or rather, this person was truly too inconspicuous during his reign for him to remember much of the man!

The three of them bowed at the foot of the throne.

"Greetings My Lord, Marik at your service," Marik spoke with eloquent pronunciation, so different compared to casual floundering he did in his dingy little merchant's tent. Though Julian found that despite his efforts, the poor boy's tone was quite lacking in both confidence and personality.

"Ah Little Marik!" The Duke boomed, the nickname while friendly was not a good sign, Julian thought. "It's good that you came here today! I was about to extend an invitation to you but I had forgotten how to properly contact you about it. Oh and please, no need to bow for so long."

Marik awkwardly straightened, allowing Leonel and Julian who were his guests, to follow as well. "An…invitation?" The stupid boy asked cautiously. 

"That's right!" The Duke hummed with booming excitement as he rose from his throne. He took his time to saunter towards his guests, descending the three steps that kept his seat elevated above them. "I plan on holding a banquet in the following three moons. The Scarlet Moon festival is just around the corner and I thought…" He stroked the neatly trimmed beard. His smile did not leave for even a moment. "Why not start the celebrations early!"

"Erm…r-right!" Marik blinked, clearly unable to take back any control of the conversation from the rambling Duke. And as his guests, neither Julian nor Leonel had grounds to speak until addressed to first. However, Julian's patience was starting to wear thin and he was ready to insert himself into the situation no matter how inappropriate…

Unfortunately, Leonel was some sort of mind reader because he knew precisely when Julian was getting fidgety and snuck a rude kick to the Doctor's heels. 

The Doctor hissed in discontent and saw it appropriate to turn to the Inquisitor with a scolding look. Leonel raised a brow, only finding him to be childish.

It was only then that the Duke cast his gaze on the two new faces in his hall. "I see that you brought some friends with you, Little Marik," he hummed, leaning in with interest. His eyes trailed over Leonel briefly before falling on the Doctor and doing the same, his gaze lingering on Julian's face.

Julian, Divine Light help him, could not stop himself from batting his lashing at the Duke. Just for fun, of course, because he did find it amusing how the Duke had to do a double-take, his smile turning wry for just a moment as his gaze fell back onto Marik.

"Oh, right!" Marik jumped to attention, "This is Leonel of Ombrelle. He's a mercenary that I've just picked up for hire. A very sturdy fellow! I'll be happy to recommend him after his services for me have expired."

"An Ombrellian!" Marik grinned, "No wonder your eyes are so striking. It's been a while since I've had the chance to visit, ah, the white sandy beaches in Ombrelle are something else. So different from ours here in Pyrpara. But the heat is something that I cannot stomach. It's already too much here. How do you like our Pyrpara?"

"…" Leonel bowed his head respectfully. He honestly found this lord to be much too chatty. There was absolutely no reason for him to butter up a lowly mercenary that Leonel was posing as. So he kept his response brief with minimal amounts of politeness, "It's nice. Reminds me of home with all the colorful folk that come about for business. Quite prosperous."

The Duke nodded, pleased with the mercenary's reply. Only then did he turn to the Doctor. 

"This is—" Marik began, only to get cut off as Julian took a step forward.

"I am Julian Gray, a humble physician, at your service," he made a swooping bow. "And though my talents aren't extremely vast, they are particular." With a playful peak upwards at the Duke, Julian winked as he adjusted his glasses. If one chose to look closely, they would see the like sparkles of blue that twinkled there. 

"Oh," the Duke said momentarily stunned before his visage stretched with pointed join. "A physician of particular talents!" He laughed, motioning for Julian to rise. "What an interesting way of introducing oneself. I like it!" He slapped down on Julian's shoulder so hard it made the Doctor flinch.

"If my Lord is of interest," the Doctor hummed, "I am more than willing to demonstrate my talents." 

"…Julian," Leonel hissed in warning, no longer caring that he spoke out of place.

The Doctor raised a brow, what happened to not coming to his rescue should Julian step out of line? His big Inquisitor was rather adorable with all his little bouts of hypocrisy. Julian pocketed this thought to use as ammunition against Leonel later. For now, he was more inclined to worm his way into the Duke's favor.

And that he did. For Lord Opheron waved at Leonel dismissively, "Pah! Don't worry about remaining so orthodox in front of me. I'm not like those stiff-collared noblemen that populate the capital. What we discuss in this hall will stay in this hall, isn't that right, Little Marik?"

Marik flinched, seeming surprised to be suddenly addressed, "R-Right!"

The Lord Duke nodded with approval, "Yes, I'm hardly daunted by a little magic! It's been so long since I've met a mage physician after all. How about we talk more over some fine Costaillian wine, what say you?"

"I'd be more than honored, My Lord," Julian flashed his winning smile, content that things were progressing so smoothly.

It was only after that the Duke ushered them to a different area of the palace to enjoy their leisurely refreshments that Marik realized he hadn't, for a single moment, gotten the opportunity to talk to the Duke about their trade! This was already going terribly!