The Gala

[Zephyranthes]

"No, please, my lady, you do me too much credit. It was a simple trifle for Rheinland's finest."

The Imperial captain's medals jingled and jangled with each guffaw and rise of his prideful chest as he boasted of his accomplishments. In this moment, Camille regretted approaching the man. Where she had hoped to gain juicy insider details, all she found was a boisterous windbag seeking more headpats for his accomplishments. With a final downing of her flute of champagne, she nodded with the best smile and curtsy ettiquete could provide.

"If you will excuse me, captain, I must take my leave. There are others I wish to see," she proclaimed, then turned about face to leave before a reply could be given.

It was in the corner that she found a more unsettled-looking man with significantly fewer clanging pieces of metal on his chest. Placing down her flute, she moved towards the wall, one hand resting on the unusual sabre that adorned her hip, fingers tracing over the butterfly wing hilt. She gave a confident smile, feigning the touch of tipsy one would expect after a few more flutes.

"You do not seem at peace here, monsieur," she intoned with a note of mischief, her maroon velvet shining in the light.

Beist did not realize at first that the woman was talking to him. He quickly checked beside him, but there was no one else to be found. Resolutely turning to face her, he said,
"Ja, my.. lady. Formal events are not my forte.." He noticed the strangely ornamental gorget and the sword, but his questing glance did not see any medals or rank devices. Just who was this woman? "And you - perhaps the evening is more to your liking?"

A slight smirk followed the question, then a surveying of the crowd. "A soldier is trained for war. He is taught to excel in it. But his love for it is left to the imagination, varying from man to man. One might say I am trained to deal with these courtly affairs from a young age, but bear little love for it," she explained. "But I digress."

She offered a bow of her head to the man, with a slight wave of her arm: The traditional salutation given by men, not women. "Camille Beaucoeur, at your service."

Even more confused by the answer, Beist decided to play it safe, and deal with her as he would any other officer. He brought his feet together, and made a formal half-bow from the waist. "Leutnant Elias Beist, of the Kaiserliche Rheinwehr. Admiral Henze's adjutant - at your service," he said. "Though I imagine your advice at the moment would be more valuable than mine."

Interest ignited with the mention of Beist's role. She crossed her arms. "Perhaps. What wisdom do you seek, Leutnant? I do know a thing or two about my country."

"Ah, I guess I meant your experience at these events. I never know how to make ze approach." He smiled hopefully. "Does the Gallic Navy hold many formal occasions?"

"Formal balls and parties are very common here. The nobility was officially abolished, but courtly life continues with the same people under new roles and titles," she noted, then pointing out a gaggle of uniformed officers and nobility. "The approach is simple, when you break it down. Big formal gestures, introductions with titles, empty praise, and veiled insults... it's all a dance."

Beist shuddered inadvertently. "I'd much rather be right in the middle of a Corsair battlegroup..." he said. "At least at my rank, I'm not expected to attend any of the formal functions." He chuckled. "And Admiral Henze can usually beg off due to urgent Rheinwehr business, which is rarely a falsehood."

'A curious man. An aide to the admiral, unwilling to do the other part the job,' she thought.

"Tell me, Leutnant-- why do you think the Admiral brought you here?"

"I'm not sure that I have a specific purpose here, exactly. Just talking to our new allies, I suppose." Beist looked at Camille frankly. "How do they view the Rheinwehr in the Combined Fleet? Do you think there will be... disagreements... about joint patrols and the like?"

"I'd imagine you are here to be groomed. To be made ready to follow in the Admiral's footsteps. He does not need an aide here, especially away from him. No, I think he wants you to learn," she postulated. "And as for the view, it is like much of Gallia. We are a place that is mistrustful of foreigners at best. And after those remarks, well... focusing on damage control is best. It is the buzz of the party."

Beist returned her look with amusement. "If that is really his goal for me here, he's wasting his time. I doubt my career will go beyond the next rank." Beist looked over the gathering. "I don't have the family name, or the connections. And the Grossadmiral will not always be named Henze..."

"What is it you seek, then, Leutnant? Beyond these walls. Something seems to remain on your mind."

Beist looked the woman over again. Something about her questions was at odds with her earlier casual demeanor, though he didn't mind the more serious conversation. "I joined the Military because it was the only way to make ends meet at the time. But after getting out to deal with my family's estate, I realized this is the only thing I'm good at." His lips curled into a mocking half-smile. "Right now, there is nothing else for me beyond these walls. But sometimes, I wish there was."

The woman smiled thoughtfully, taking something out of her pocket. It was a small card with Neural Net and identification details. Upon it was a knife with a rose wrapped around it, and the coat of arms of some organization or another.

Camille Beaucoeur
Zurich Accord

"If you find yourself wanting to pursue things beyond those walls, well... I might know a thing or two about that world outside," she suggested, handing the card to him.

Beist took the card mechanically, and glanced at it. 'Some kind of military organization?' he thought.

"Thanks for the invite - I think. But I doubt I'll need to make a decision like this just yet." His eyes found the cluster of military uniforms around the Admiral, who seems to be in earnest conversation with a Gallic officer. Though a head shorter than most of those around him, Henze seemed to command an easy respect, which Beist could never hope to match. "As long as Admiral Henze needs me, I'll be staying. Afterwards... it'll depend on the next Grossadmiral."

"Mm. I understand. Some men lead, others follow. And you say it is your place, non?"

She rested her hand back on her sabre, giving a little smirk. "Now, I doubt you wish to be tied down much in this corner with the foppishly-dressed woman, as opposed to all those fancy officers. Do try the macarons, however. The vanilla bean ones are simply to die for."

"I believe you are right - I need to continue my circuit." Beist looked at her appraisingly. "But the evening is just getting started. Perhaps we will speak again, ja? I could use your expertise with zese... macaroons."

He gave her his best winning smile, inclined his head, and turned to go back into the throng. Then, with naught but a wink and a smirk, the woman melted back into the crowd, putting on her best impression of a plastic doll as the night continued.