(2023-05-30) Much To Offer

Details

Author:	Athena
Summary:	Duchess Avrenne Esprit visits Count Devon Tennerow about his bid for the House, and offers some direction to the campaign while laying the groundwork for a future she hopes to steer towards for a navy. 4k-ish words.
Rating:	T for Teen

Arc: Ringside Seats

The Tennerow townhouse is in a quiet corner of the Cathedral district, it's smooth white stone facade, paned windows and straw-yellow tiled roof blending in nicely with the local architecture. If it's quiet, though, it's also clear that this little corner of the city is well-tended. There are little trees growing in planters on either side of the front door, and window pots overflowing with springtime flowers. On the little blue door is a bronze knocker in the shape of a woodpecker.

The calling card announcing her intent to visit was sent on ahead with hours to spare, and to send a polite refusal if necessary. In the absence of that refusal, the Duchess Avrenne Esprit has made her way to the Tennerow townhouse. She's in a dress that Devon has seen before, a dark blue silk bodice with a flared A-line heavy skirt, the collar just an inch or two above her shoulders, the sleeves long as always, and slightly trailing. There's the unusual embroidery around the wrists and collar, done by Sophie Mercailles, Avrenne's secretary, of things that are almost suggestions of orange birds or flowers possibly.

Avrenne walks to the door with that stately air of hers, head held high and poised, and knocks politely with the woodpecker, five minutes before she said she would be there.

Devon himself answers the door, wearing a crisp brown suit with a dark blue tie, his brown hair tidily combed. There's a moment's pause, and then he smiles at Avrenne.

"Duchess Esprit," he says, stepping back as he draws the door open. "Delighted to see you, as always. Please, allow me to show you to the sitting room."

Avrenne's hair has been pinned back from her face, not quite as severely as usual if not her recent ballroom styles, and if she's wearing cosmetics, they are subtle (perhaps her lashes are not naturally that dark? the line of her upper eyes not so gently defined? hard to say). She gives Devon that small smile, as she steps inside, waiting for his lead to go further. "Thank you for seeing me, Lord Tennerow. I know you must be busy, and I appreciate you taking the time."

"I will always have time for you," Devon says leading Avrenne back into the sitting room. Within, two cushioned chairs and a loveseat are arranged around a small central table, and the walls are decorated with several paintings of Lake Everstill. There's a small bookshelf on one side, and Dara's harp sits in the corner.

Devon gestures Avrenne to a chair, and says, "Tea will arrive shortly, I'm certain. And I do hope it's not too cluttered. My sister has taken to using this as her music room."

Avrenne sits with that practiced elegance, adjusting her skits so they drape properly. "Oh, not to worry. You should see my table when I have decided to work on some floral arrangement. It takes quite a bit of chaos first before it can be organized. And, Light knows that I am accustomed to the younger ones needing space for their interests." Not that Dara is a teenager, or that much younger than Avrenne but #okayAvrenne. "What a lovely harp. This is where she practices then? She played so beautifully at the Fallon-Ference Charity Gala."

Devon nods. "She's quite skilled, I must agree. However, practice is one thing she's able to do more easily in Redridge than here, where sound carries more easily. In our Stormwind home, she claims this room has both the best acoustics and isolation. If true, I'm sure it's a coincidence, but… I'm inclined to believe her."

Avrenne's eyes flick around the room, but if she has any opinion on it, she doesn't show or speak it. Instead she returns her gaze to his face. "It's good that she has the space here in Stormwind, and that it suits her well enough. I expect you will remain for at least some time yet, and it's possible that you will be here quite regularly." It's a clear opening to discuss the House, a gentle question in her tone even if the words are only implication.

"I do hope so, but if I may be quite honest, I do not think highly of my chances," Devon says with a rueful smile. "I am afraid I do not have your skill at that style of dancing."

"Not yet, perhaps," Avrenne allows diplomatically, her tone not unkind. "But that does not mean you are not fit to learn. Dancing, and politics both, are skills that can be acquired. Some may have a natural bend to them that makes the process easier, but what one lacks in innate talent can frequently be made up in dedication and practice." She dips her head towards the harp. "All the talent in the world will not make that harp play itself. One has to be willing to put ones fingers to it and make the attempt, no?"

"Very true, and I am making the attempt," Devon says with a faint smile. "I was planning to speak to Commodore Fallon, as it happens, regarding his plans for the military. I know he already has many political alliances, of course. And I have been trying to find the correct way to reach some rapport with Lord Ference. Most of the seated Houses are already weary of candidates attempting to gain their favor, of course, and I would not add to that."

"That is indeed part of the trouble, yes. Attempts to gain their favor in particular are what becomes exhausting. One can purchase as many bottles of Aspenwood wine as there are barrels, and it will not alter Lady Aspenwood's perspective," Avrenne says with a dry tone. "However, what they need to know remains: they need to know who you are, what you intend to try to accomplish, and what you might support of theirs in the future. That is what matters. It is less about currying favor so much as making sure they have the information they need to make a decision." A delicate sort of pause.

"I don't know if you have heard, but I am engaged to Commodore Fallon." There's a gentle tone to the cool delivery. "I would be happy to discuss Siamus' plans for the navy with you." His given name comes out with a smooth familiarity, perhaps almost surprising given what appears to have been a short acquaintance. "It is, in fact, what I would be curious to know about for you; if you have yet begun to put together a proposal of numbers and action for what we spoke of before."

"I had heard rumors," Devon admits, showing a hint of surprise when she refers to the Commodore by his given name, "but I did not want to offer my congratulations until I knew officially, of course. In that case, congratulations." He pauses, and then continues, "As for numbers, yes. The difficulty always comes down to men and money."

"Thank you," Avrenne says with a genuine smile, a hint of something truly bright in it. "And yes, that is always the matter. Particularly if you want to show what you can bring to the House, that is a way to do it. There are always dreamers, but men of action and intelligence are what we really need. Demonstrating that you are that is how you convince those that want to see the same things done. Your familiarity with the military from the inside, and your local knowledge of someone who has been here watching what has happened and how are your greatest strengths in this. You have experience in looking at how to pay for your people, and how to manage fluctuating markets for labor.

"So. If you were looking at it from that perspective, of looking how to streamline what is currently in pieces, where do you see the largest places you could use the law and the Alliance budget to address what has happened here? Or, to consider another approach, what else might you do to work with the local infrastructure here to restructure it to better fund long term solutions to the decentralization that has occurred?"

"The main thing I see is that none of these places wanted to have local militia," Devon says, tapping one finger on the table. "Redridge I know more deeply, of course, but I believe all desired protection to come from a central authority. The militias, the mercenaries, that was a sign of the failure of the system, not a desire to act outside of it. Thus, I think given the trained forces already in place, it's a matter of negotiating consolidation with the leaders. Keeping the regional teams together, but enfolding them within the larger military. Any detractors will likely be mollified by the improved resources available to them as a part of the Alliance military. Thus, the problem of men has already been partially solved by the recruitment efforts of these decentralized factions."

Devon takes a breath, and continues, "Money, of course, is another issue entirely. We cannot tax Stormwind dry, and donations are beneficial in the moment but not capable of enacting permanent change. However, there are ways for money to increase - some of the current donations might be split to investments. Even a one percent return on investment is better than none, as long as we do not overextend in case of short-term setbacks. As for resource-based funding, Leric has told me several mines in Northrend have been claimed 'for the crown'. Northrend has been inhospitable for so long, it must have considerable natural resources that could be organized to better support Stormwind financially."

Avrenne folds her hands together in her lap, listening in that quiet way of hers, a solemn audience rather than a reactive one.

"Could you pull those sorts of numbers together? To demonstrate specifically which investments could be made, what percentage of resources might impact our current market for resources, and what you might use locally in current infrastructure to incorporate it into the specific communities that have created militias? That is, if those Alliance army resources could be funneled to Redridge for industry, to reinvigorate the local economy enough to draw a salary to pay for the army to remain there in incentive, for example.

"The other problem you will face is ensuring there are enough commanders. How will you address the issue of the argument of how to establish that leadership and maintain it, particularly in the middle of a war where we require leadership at the front?"

"I can certainly do that," Devon says, nodding seriously. "I may lack skills at 'glad-handing', but I do know how to handle logistics and finances for a large operation, and I am confident I can make a fairly accurate assessment of what we could gain in Northrend." He hesitates, then adds, "I may need to travel there at some point. I hear odd tales from Leric about 'whispering ore'"

"As for leadership, the war opens opportunities for those of lower rank. Soldiers who show signs of leadership potential should be trained. Upward mobility will also improve morale among the common footsoldiers."

"If you can get me those numbers, those plans — actual figures, the specific resources — then I can speak of it in particular to those who I know would value that level of realistic approach. Lady Aspenwood and Lord Lysander will loudly support that, and will draw several votes because of it. Lady Barfield is likely to be more convinced particularly if you can show her how a local effort here might be more effective with the unofficial Horde presence remaining in Redridge. That is an issue she will support more than anything to do with Westfall, and seeing true figures for it will impress her more than attempts to corner her in a room." Avrenne's eyes flick to the table and then back to Devon.

"Even for lower ranks though, there is an issue of obtaining the talent. It's a concern for Siamus, as well, with the navy. How to recruit the forces we are losing. It is one of the many ways that Lord Ference has seen the success that he has — he has advertised. That is something that the Alliance military could perhaps do better than we have so far, don't you think? That we should consider how we might instill a desire and awareness that there are many ways to serve the Alliance, of the opportunities that may be opening up, in both local and sea based options. What do you think?"

"Advertise the military?" Devon frowns thoughtfully. "How would we do that, exactly? Everyone is aware it exists, naturally."

Devon pauses as a young blonde woman walks into the room carrying a tray with a teapot, two cups, milk, sugar and an assortment of small cakes. She sets in down on the table, and steps back with a curtsey to see if anything else is needed.

"Thank you, Maren," Devon says politely, and turns to Avrenne. "Is there anything else you would like for refreshment?"

"No, thank you; this is sufficient," Avrenne says in that cool, polite voice, as she waits to either be served tea or for a long enough pause that she will simply serve herself.

"Everyone is aware that it exists, but the trouble that often happens for those of us connected to it, is that we know more than most. The truth is that while you and I might know the details of Northrend, an average person who is focused on their daily life has no reason to. The sense that everything is being taken care of is difficult to combat. They cannot see it, and so they are left to imagine what they think they know, and that it seems to be going well.

"But, there is also that there is a lack of passion for it. The sense of adventure, or opportunity, or even duty." She pauses and adds, "Do you know that Lord Ference has a dedicated bard troupe to sing of the deeds of Cobalt Company? An old friend of his, a famous bard from Lordaeron, Chuck Silversong herself."

Maren steps forward silently to pour black tea into both glasses, and then moves back and out of the room. Devon picks up his and stirs in a small amount of milk.

"A bard troupe? Truly? Do you suppose we should have something like that for the army?"

"I think we should certainly consider it," Avrenne as she takes her tea, plain, in hand. "I know you have far more connections there yourself, of what we might do to remind people that there are other options for those who would serve Azeroth, and that their own deeds will be sung about. Do you think Lord Leric might be in a good position to find some of those stories we might tell of Northrend, or older? To give morale both to those currently in service, but also inspire more to think within the Alliance. It might be something worth considering for a long term approach, and what you might be able to uniquely bring in to the House."

"He is fond of telling stories," Devon says with a faint smile. "I could likely come up with some myself, from the Third War. I expect he'll have a full new repertoire soon enough, tales of Northrend and bravery. Perhaps we could have them written? By someone more talented with words than a half-drunk soldier?"

"Mm," Avrenne says as she takes a sip of her tea. "I expect you know more of who might be worth asking than I. And if you were to get those names and specifics of what sort of stories, or plays, for example, you might consider speaking to Lord Amerith about them. Not about the House, but about what he is interested in, and what he finds interesting," she says, directing those dark eyes in a steady look at him. "You know, Lord Ference specifically mentioned how the experience of Mt. Hyjal created a bond among those who were there. Perhaps if you were looking for some older stories to incorporate, you might consider speaking to him about it. Maybe it will give you both an opportunity to also speak of your common goal that while we must see to the war effort, we must also not forget our homes here."

"Hm, I had not considered Lord Amerith," Devon says, taking a sip of his own tea. "I know little of his interests. Lord Ference I do hope to speak with more at length. But while he feels a bond with those who served at Hyjal, I'm not certain he is eager to speak about it."

"Lord Ference is, at heart, a storyteller. He was a playwright himself, you know. He may not wish to speak of his experiences specifically of Mt. Hyjal, but you might consider asking him about his older stories. He wrote a play, in Lordaeron, called 'It Will Be Home,' about the Fall of Stormwind in the First War. It was a very emotional play, and clearly written from someone who experienced much of it himself." Avrenne takes another sip of her tea. "I attended that one, personally. He and I are acquaintances, from that time. I spoke to him of you in generalities of someone I knew, and he knew precisely who I was speaking of, in a positive way." There's a soft faint smile of encouragement at that. "So you have already made some impression, Lord Tennerow."

"Really? I had worried I made little impression at all," Devin takes another sip of tea, thinking. "I was still a child at that time, when the South fell. It was Redridge we were fleeing, but I expect the feelings are much the same. That was still a few years before I became Count Tennerow. I would have much liked to see the play."

"I really only remember well the ending. It was a musical, and a tragedy in many ways. But the ending had a very moving song, sung by Lord Ference and his late wife, of the hope they were holding onto as they left Stormwind." Avrenne's voice grows a little nostalgic at the recounting, her eyes on her tea. "A sentiment that I felt a little then, but far more keenly only a year later when it was I who fled my own city." She takes a sip of tea and tilts her chin up again as she looks at Devon. "You should know also that Lord Ference's son was part of the Westfall Militia, Lieutenant Ben Hazan Ference. He's currently working in Northrend, with Marshal Gryan Stoutmantle there in the Grizzly Hills."

"I did know that he had adopted a son out of Westfall," Devon says, nodding. "But not all the details. And, of course, Lieutenant Ben Hazan Ference's wife was involved in the arrangement of the recent gala. But as for "It Will Be Home"… A tale of that sort might touch hearts these days. So many of us have that experience, of having to flee a place we would call home. If a theater company in Stormwind might purchase the rights, for instance."

Avrenne gives Devon another small smile. "And that might be an interesting conversation to have with someone like Morgauna as well, if there might be some way to consider a local effort there of what her budget for such things may entail, to compare notes on what sort of funding might be possible. Restoring that energy into the Alliance military of rising back up, of invigorating the Stormwind harbor that once was the very reason so many escaped and survived the Fall would be an interesting addition to your approach on how to solve the issue of how to rebuild a militia into an army once more, and the ultimate message that we should be investing in our home for a place for our soldiers and sailors to come back to when the war ends." She's assuming they're winning it. It's fine.

To be fair, if they don't win it, then the whole 'home' thing is irrelevant. Devon nods. "If we tell people the right story, they'll understand the importance. And I do, of course, have a portion of my own funding that I funnel into the arts. Perhaps Lady Morgauna and I may do some kind of cost-sharing, if she's interested in the idea."

"It is worth opening the conversation, at the least, I should think," Avrenne says. "She has always had more of an interest in the arts." She finishes up her tea, and sets the cup down. "I expect you will be a little busy in the next few weeks. But, if you were to finalize some of the numbers and plans in specifics, Lord Tennerow, I would be very happy to see them. Perhaps I might be able to add something here or there."

"I would welcome any advice you might have," Devon says, smiling at her. "I believe we want the same things. Despite the vying against one another in this particular instance, I believe that we are all truly on the same side."

"Mm. I always see it that way of looking longer term. We can accomplish more with cooperation, and to see the value in each person's position. There is always a way to display what one can do in an honest manner without tearing another down, to build up together in solidarity rather than destroy to make room. And, should one not make the end oneself, another might still be willing to further the cause that drove one to make the attempt." Avrenne adjusts her skirts in a way that suggests she will stand soon. "I am always in favor of the Alliance united, of sharing unique perspectives, rather than dividing by them. And Siamus feels the same way."

Devon sets down his own tea and rises, offering her his hand to help her stand. "Then I am happy for you both, that you stand together in that respect."

Avrenne takes his hand with a light touch and a softer smile. "Thank you. I'm rather pleased with the match. We get along well together. The wedding will be fairly soon. There is, after all, as they say, a bloody war on," she says, a touch of dry note to her voice, continuing on as if she hadn't just cursed a little. "I do hope you and your family will attend, no matter what the outcome of the House matter may be."

"We would be delighted," Devon says, bowing slightly over her hand. "And with the portals available again, it should be possible for Leric to be in town, as well."

Avrenne stands and resettles her dress around her. "He seems to have made an unusual acquaintance in Northrend, that Lady Kalindra Azuredown. She remained rather close to him throughout the Charity Gala. I do wonder if Lady Dara has considered what an interesting friendship that is," she says and there's that hint of an almost conspiratorial playful tease in her voice.

"Yes, the lady is something of a comrade-in-arms, from what I understand. Though it did seem a bit closer than that," Devon chuckles briefly. "Leric does manage to meet interesting people, for all that there's a war on."

"Well, we cannot wait for perfect peace. Trying to do so only means we delay longer and longer for a chance at what we might want," Avrenne says. "But speaking of which, I should let you get to work, Lord Tennerow. And I must continue with mine. I have things I must see to as I prepare for the merger of my House with House Fallon." A brief pause as she looks away. "I am selling the house, of course. It will go on the market as soon as possible, and so it will not be where I receive visitors soon enough. I will have the use of the Fallon Townhouse in Stormwind though, if Lady Dara might be interested in a visit sometime soon. It has been a while since she and I have had an opportunity to speak at any length."

"I shall make certain Dara knows where to reach you," Devon nods. "I expect she would be happy to make up for lost time."

Avrenne turns her head with that poise and gives a brief smile. "Of course." She dips into an appropriate curtsy for their relative stations. "And I hope I will hear from you soon about those figures and plans, Lord Tennerow. I do truly believe that it is something you can do, to serve the Alliance. You have much to offer. I hope to see it."

"I will have my plans sent when I have them solidified to my own satisfaction. I hope they will not disappoint," Devon replies, with an appropriate bow. "And yes, I believe that we all have much to offer."