He look's at the address... yeah that's a trap.  Or a loyalty test.  (he thought Good governments didn't do those?)  He's going to find someone to report that to.  He finds someone, but apparently a lawyer advertising on prior experience (as a Diabolist obviously!) isn't actually a crime and they would need more evidence... and don't seem to be sure what the exact law is on diabolism?  He's not going to go in person to get more evidence, he's done his duty as a Good subject and citizen.

Unrelatedly, as street urchin glances confusedly at the sign.  Even someone paying close attention to her might make the mistake of thinking she can't read with the ways she glances at it.  But read it she does, along with memorizing it word for word.  Interesting.  Probably not worth exploring further, but the Abbess will want to know.

The sign is indeed interesting.  Eisethia (she still doesn't consistently think of herself as Thea at first thought, despite Dia finally having overcome her fear at contradicting Thea to explain the value in the name change) is curious about how such a blatantly diabolical profession has managed to transition with all of the changes over the past year.  Her old Sisterhood thought little of the tricks and contracts of diabolists (well actually they often thought of revenge for the trickery... there is a reason the Sisterhood declined under Amodean rule), and as one of Irori's now, Thea thinks even worse of such dealings.  But she recognizes its potential importance to the convention, and she's trying to be Lawful Neutral (helping people by stopping a diabolist should be worth at least some Good, especially if she can manage without violence or even explicit threat) and, if she is being honest with herself (and she strives to be) she sees a potential kindred spirit in this lawyer (as Thea is also making her way from a hellish discipline).

Her most trusted Sister on social matters, Dia, is wary of a loyalty test or trap, and even more wary of a hidden diabolical contract.  Dia has proven to be reasonable in her advice, so in a change of her typical policy for the past year, Thea decides to bring Dia with her.  They quickly work out a scheme for communicating between each other based on some standard techniques of the Sisterhood.

And so, two people wait outside the door of the firm.  Both are wearing monkish robes.  One is tall and muscular woman with wiry muscles and bears a symbol of Irori.  The other is a teenager (14, maybe 15?) much shorter and thinner, with still a bit of muscle, as thin as it is, and a shy look on her face.  They are trying not to look especially dangerous, but slight callouses are visible on their knuckles and their skin bear the subtle signs of many wounds and healings over the years.  The teenager is humming to herself, barely audibly.

Lluïsa answers the door, composed and ready, her laughably short height augmented a bit by the pointy attorney's capirote. Despite the passable clothing, she still looks somewhat bedraggled, and will likely manage to look somewhat bedraggled when they've flayed off her skin in Hell.

"Well, it's not often the firm is honored by a visit from monks of Irori," she says invitingly, standing in the doorway. "I don't believe you're clients of mine, are you? What business do you have?"

"Well, your sign said 'Consultations are free with proof of Convention attendance.' and I have such proof right here" she brandishes a letter formally inviting her to the convention as a delegate of the faith of Irori.

"So a new client," she replies with a smile, eyes quickly scanning the letter. "Please come in. I'll show you to a meeting room."

The interior is dismal, though tidy for it. Very few of the lamps are burning. The place doesn't smell of brimstone at all (after all, the ritual room is in the back).

"It's pleasant to meet so many followers of gods one never could have met followers of before," she says as she leads them a short distance, not actually lying because once is 'so many', and it is pleasant to do things, generally speaking.

The reception room for clients is well-appointed, if disused, and Lluïsa has never once set foot in it before, and is terrified to do so, but being terrified is much like, say, walking around with horrific burns under your clothing, in that it never stops being unpleasant but you do stop wincing all the time. She looks cheerful enough as she leads these dubious clients of Irori in.

Thea had already noted the bedraggled look, in conjunction with the apparent disuse it tells an odd story.  Maybe she is getting tired and dirty working as a laundry wizard part time?  And isn't especially adept with prestidigitation?  (Thea knows it cleans, but not how well it works on people exactly).  It isn't looking good for Thea's hope of seeing someone else adapt to new circumstances from previous Hellish servitude.

"Have you met so many followers of different Gods already?  They've only been accumulating at a trickle by my own observations."  There, poke at her pleasantries a bit, see how she reacts.

"My name is Thea Iroria, by the way, and this is Dia."  Ha, she's not going to forget to introduce herself with this person!

"Oh, yes. You know, the other day, I met a Caydenite!" she laughs, still not lying because she stepped over a rambling drunk yesterday evening, and quickly memorizing names and faces as she speaks.

"I didn't get much practical theology out of him, though. I hope their church, or whatever passes for it, will send someone more sober to the Convention." You can't really speak with small caps but she's sure trying.

"I'm afraid I can't offer you any drink He would approve of—shortages in Westcrown, it's a problem for us all—but water seems like more the thing for disciplined monks of Irori like yourselves. Just a moment, please." She steps out, remaining confident.

Thea has read some example "Placards of Wisdom" from an Asmodean text making fun of them and Caydean, but they actually seemed like rather practical tidbits of advice?   She's not sure what that means about Caydean in general, but she is keeping an open, humble mind.  Still, no point addressing that comment.

"Oh wait, I have create water prepared for today, you don't need to go out of your way to fetch anything!"   Doing favors for others without any expectation of them being returned is Good, and thus brings her one small step closer to more healing to work with.  And there is no way in Hell, (or Axis, or any other outer plane) she is going to accept food or even water from a diabolist.  If she was a more powerful monk she might be confident in her ability to withstand poison, disease, or ingested spell, but as it is, she is not going to chance it.

Wow, she wishes she had create water. She'll just retrieve her own glass of water from her desk, then, making sure not to pause on the threshold as she returns to the meeting room.

"Are you sure you want to trouble yourself? I know Westcrown's water table isn't in the fairest shape, but we do have a quality well here. But I'll hardly insist on not seeing your magic."

She sets out a pair of glasses obligingly.

Unobtrusively as she can, she presses her finger to the interior of one of the glasses to feel for any substances smeared on it (poisons can be delivered via surfaces that come in contact with food and water with only a moderate amount of extra effort).  And then without, an extra drop spilled, casts create water to fill the glasses precisely, just short of full to make it easy to hold the glass without spilling any water.

Dia makes a small change in her barely audible hums, indicating that she will hold back from drinking just in case anyway.

"So, you have advice on how to best do one's duty to the Queen at the convention?"

She's curious how this will compare to Theopho's advice.

Lluïsa sips delicious well water.

"I have. How familiar are you with the concept of a constitution? It's not just a strange foreign thing, you know."

She's already somewhat rambling about law in her head, but can at least try to be polite first.

Thea and Dia gamed this out ahead of time.  Thea wants to appear somewhat ignorant, but a little more informed than she was before taking to Theopho, so that she can get a more interesting response.

"Well Andoran has it's Common Law, and Rahadoum its First Law, and Galt, where our Queen is from, has a constitution.  They are all a set of higher precedent laws of some form?"  She's gone with appearing relatively more informed, the upper end of what she and Dia discussed.

Dia notes some small oddity to how the Lawyer (who has still not introduced herself?) drinks the water.  Perhaps the water is scarcer than she claims?  Or she drinks water to stave off hunger?  She'll discuss it with Thea later.  She also makes a small fidget, reminding Thea not to appear too well informed.

"A fascinating thing about constitutions is that when you really know how to look for them, you find them everywhere!"

This is a topic that makes her relax a little.

"To have a realm, and laws, at all, is to have a constitution. Even many of the more lawless lands have a constitution, if you really consider it. A king, or a council, or a parliament, may make laws, but greater than any of the laws they make is the custom, known to all, from time immemorial, that here, in this realm, the council, say, makes law. This is what makes it law, and not just some fantasies drafted with false solemnity."

"But a constitution such as the one her Majesty envisions? Well, consider that ordinary laws are invariably written and recorded when made. I have many volumes of them here. I'm sure you'll agree that's quite sensible. But if there is a law higher than law, its very font and source, why entrust it to immemorial custom? Custom may be disputed, or abrogated from disuse, or interrupted by conquest. No, even the highest law, perhaps especially the highest law, should be a matter of written record, and her Majesty in her great wisdom knows this, and would not see the Realm languish without it, and has summoned those such as you and I to a great Convention to carry out this valuable work."

"So consider, in a thousand years, a monastery of Irori long standing on some count's land, which he covets, and purports to seize the monastery, arguing that its privileges are false, and not immemorial custom. But then consider this, that the abbot may cause the count to yield by brandishing the ungainsayable Constitution, where, a thousand years past, the illustrious Thea caused to be drafted 'the privileges of the monasteries of holy Irori are to be respected'!"

This wasn't a prepared spiel so much as prepared sentence fragments woven together on the fly. It's left Lluïsa looking visibly excited.

The first and highest law is strength.  She believed that when she worshiped Eiseth, and although it isn't exactly Irori's teaching (which she is still working to understand), she still feels it in her heart.  She could say that directly to appear as ignorant, but best to stick with less legally suspect forms of ignorance.

"Do you know what sort of immemorial customs the Queen wishes to see become a matter of written record?"  A simple straight forward question in line with those she and Dia planned to ask.  She'll follow up on the bait about the privileges of monasteries afterward.

Thea isn't sure how to interpret the excitement, it seems too blatantly expressed to be her true emotions as opposed to deliberate posturing or poise?

This lawyer is a true believer if Dia ever saw one.  Still, even if the fanaticism for Law is true, it doesn't mean there isn't a layer of lies over the core of truth.  The emotion is real, a bit odd to be openly expressed, but people can vary even in Cheliax.

Another shift in her faint hums, to indicate a core of truth and real emotion.

And it's good that Thea is sticking to the plan.  A diabolist wearing their emotions on their sleeve is still dangerous, there is little to be gained revealing too much.

"Well, that's the trouble, isn't it?", she asks, returning to poised cheerfulness. "I'm hardly privileged to know her Majesty's mind, but I can follow her reasoning. As the law understands it, an immemorial custom must be uninterrupted as well as ancient, and we've had our share of interruptions between the Even-Tongued and today. Were she inheriting in unbroken succession, and desirous of a written Constitution, it would suffice to write and promulgate it, letting custom pass into written law directly. No, she is returned from exile, and wise enough to know that won't do, with custom shattered, and as is the right of any monarch, has asked this service of us. Desiring a flourishing faith of Irori, she does not thoughtlessly decree 'the faith of Irori shall flourish', but asks the counsel of Irori's faithful."

"Of course, the drafting of law can be a subtle thing. Though you and her Majesty both desire a flourishing faith of Irori, it wouldn't do for you to draft a vague generality such as 'the faith of Irori shall flourish' either. How would such a law be enforced? Might not a foreign prince of Vudra claim, absurdly, that its true meaning is 'Cheliax shall be annexed to my own kingdom', considering after all that the faith of Irori flourishes there? All care must be taken in this."

"Hmmm..." she says to herself, also giving both signal and opportunity for direction to Dia that Thea is planning to risk a more insightful question.  Hearing no hint from Dia, she continues on.

"Do you think the faiths she has invited delegates from is both the full list of faiths she wishes to learn the desired customs of and not including any faiths for other reasons?"  That could have been Theopho's play, underemphasize the extent to which he had been snubbed so as to make open alliance with him seem more acceptable?  And everything else was simply to distract from that?  Also this question is potentially too insightful if Lluïsa turns out to have some connection to the Watcher or word gets back to him some way or another.

"And the sortition delegates?  Are they meant to be some sampling of the various customs of the common people?"  Lluïsa's explanation of the sortition delegates would make more sense than Theopho's explanation... but overall Theopho accounted for more evidence and has a much better reputation for wise advice.

"Yes, well spotted, we see a preference for breadth here. It's not that, say, the church of Iomedae has been established in place of the late establishment, but various faiths are invited. Older law invokes the name of holy Aroden frequently, and my own feeling on the matter, perhaps similar to her Majesty's, perhaps not, is that it would be an injustice to establish any church but His."

It's actually been surprisingly easily, mentally, to insert Aroden's name wherever pieties are required, perhaps because it comes up so much in older law. It may help a little that Aroden is dead and can't hurt anyone who invokes His name.

"The established church is, of course, vital to the constitution of any realm. But as to whether certain specific churches are to share the place of holy Aroden's, or the role be left to priesthoods in general... well, to give an example, the clergy of Norgorber are hardly fit to serve in the establishment of any realm save, perhaps, a lawless den of pirates. It may well be our duty to bar the worship of certain gods."

"And the choosing by sortition may well be an opportunity for gods unknown and unnamed to nonetheless lend their wisdom to the proceedings. Bearing this in mind, I would expect her Majesty's will to be that we remain open to more faiths than are explicitly numbered, while guarding vigilantly against certain ones."

Dia notes the way she says 'Holy Aroden'.  Nothing worth signaling Thea about, but it seems like the lawyer has perhaps simply substituted in Aroden for Asmodeus mentally and verbally?  Dia wonders if older laws and decrees once had the reverse substitution made.

"Naturally, as for myself and my faith, I had the modest goal of assuring the Crown's support of the privileges' of Irori's church, but perhaps I should be thinking broader than that?"  She was suspecting some diabolic trick by now, but perhaps this is simply the establishment of a relationship the lawyer will seek to use later?

"You represent the faith of Irori, of course, and such advocacy is expected of you. But you also, in your own way, represent a piece of holy Aroden's faith in its absence. He, Himself, was a lawgiver," she's pretty sure from context clues, though hasn't ever seen a law that claimed to be drafted by Aroden "and I often think on Him while drafting my own work." Along with how much she misses having devils to talk to, but Aroden isn't proscribed or dangerous, though her mental image is necessarily vague. "And only the greatest care and attention to the detail of law is worthy of Him, who did not draft foolish laws." Axiomatically.

Dia is even more sure of her assessment.  Probably with a bit of pressure or disruption she could get the lawyer to stumble over her crude substitution of a dead God's name for Asmodeus and his devils, but there is no point pushing the issue now.  She thinks they're done here?  Her hum becomes briefly audible, indicating her assessment is that there is no further value or information to be obtained here.

Thea has thought of one more move to make, both a way to send a bit more coin her way, and possibly do a small Good deed by providing some check on this lawyer's treachery.

"Thank you for your help.  I'll keep your advice in mind at the convention." she pauses, as if she was thinking of the idea right then instead of putting together some existing pieces she had preplanned "The other delegates you are advising... have they been able to find affordable housing?  The rates have been getting higher recently.  I have many extra room in my monastery.  Perhaps you could recommend me to any in need of housing?  I only plan to charge a silver a day, including breakfast and dinner in the price.  And I would be willing to pay you a silver piece for each recommendation you make that stays at least 4 days.  I am at the Abbey of Ashes, formerly known as the Massacre House to those in the know.  It is built into the old crematorium part way across town from us."

It will give her an easy excuse to keep an eye on people that deal with this lawyer, and help her collect other delegates, and earn a bit of coin on the side, and set up bait if this lawyer is really the sort to introduce a contract at the first opportunity.  A silver piece is a pittance compared to how much a lawyer can properly earn, so any eagerness for the money will help confirm the obvious conclusion that this lawyer has no business.

Lluïsa nods. "Many find themselves short of coin, and those who don't are still mindful that they may be soon. Your oath on Irori that this name of 'Massacre House' is well and truly 'former', if you'll forgive the imposition, and I'll be pleased to have your name to mention. This formula will satisfy: 'I, Thea Iroria, swear on this the symbol of holy Irori, and by holy Irori who works through it and me, safe conduct and honest dealing to those peaceably come seeking lodging at the Abbey of Ashes in Westcrown', though any apposite formula of Irori you may prefer with the same effect will likewise satisfy."

And there it is... but the wording seems safe?  Maybe its a set up to build trust for a later oath

"A moment please" And she spends a full minute in silence working through wording.

"I think a few small additions are in order?  after 'peaceably come seeking lodging' add "and willing to peaceably depart if they cannot abide by the clearly communicated rules".

"Just to cover the scenario of anyone that is peaceable but refuses a few simple rules.  Is that wording acceptable to you?"

Dia gave a small tap of her foot at half a minute to indicate she saw no flaw in the Oath's wording... but then winces when she hears the addition Thea offered.  Someone trying some weird game of peaceable disobedience could be quite troublesome... If Thea hadn't corrected that wording.

"Ah wait, one more correction.  'safe conduct to the best of my abilities'  I will fight anything that threatens a guest of my mine, but I have limits, a pit fiend would overwhelm me and I would fail in protecting them."

Okay, maybe even a simple Oath could be treacherous.  She knew that in theory, but is seeing it in practice for the first time.

Her amusement is entirely internal as she replies "As you will."

She's heard it said that caveats are a devil's doorway. By a devil, teaching a harsh lesson about a mere mortal imitating the drafting style of a devil.

Though it's a pleasant feeling, it's bittersweet, because it's a devilish sort of pleasant.

She gives another half minute considering the oath before finally saying.  She adds one last tweak of wording just in case.

"I, Thea Iroria, swear on this the symbol of holy Irori, and by holy Irori who works through it and me, safe conduct to the best of my abilities and honest dealing from me and mine to those peaceably come seeking lodging and willing to peaceably depart if they cannot abide by the clearly communicated rules at the Abbey of Ashes in Westcrown"

Thea can't see the amusement in Lluïsa.  She had originally planned to issue a veiled threat about ensnaring anyone in contracts and schemes, but she is now too mentally off balance for that and just wants to leave.

Dia isn't sure but thinks she can guess at such amusement?  The lawyer's bluff is better than she first thought.  It's tiny bit more evidence that this is a proper diabolist with a diabolist's enjoyments?  Or it could be a misread...

Thea puts on an obviously (almost deliberately so) fake smile.

"So hopefully I'll being seeing you in four days with a few silvers for your trouble!"

And she stands to leave with Dia following closely after.

"Holy Irori keep you, then," she says, and stands to see them out.

She's not entirely certain what their deal is, but they're probably not recent arrivals from Vudra. She's not not curious, but ultimately has things to draft right now.

Knock knock.

Hat on and straight, no ink dripping anywhere, still haven't had a miraculous mid-30s growth spurt to make this less embarrassing, time to answer the door!

Well, it's once again not a filthy, unlettered, gullible farmer. Lluïsa contemplates deeply the failure of theory of mind that led her to try to attract the illiterate with a written note, but she's all smiles for the rich fellow.

"Welcome, welcome. Old client of the firm, or new client? Either way, please, feel free to step in off the street."

"I believe in my youth my father retained an independent lawyer! Are you re-specializing from soulsale management?" Aniol asks, pulling out his letter of invitation.

"You've guessed it correctly," she agrees as she scans the letter rapidly, drawing herself up to her full, impressively unimpressive height. "Little call for that work now... Convention business, then, is it? I'm always pleased to meet a fellow appointee to that distinguished Body. Please, allow me to show you to a meeting room."

She leads him in, heading to the reception room for clients, which has experienced around eighteen rounds of hasty tidying since last described.

In he strolls, gesturing to an attendant. "It was a popular occupation in its day! I'm hoping the Queen will be eager to entertain proposals about bloodlessly erasing its mark on her subjects. I assume you know all about substitutionary contract revisions?"

Substituting a soul? Under the new regime? That's... kind of an interesting puzzle, honestly.

"There's a pro forma clause for it you'll usually find, it's rather elegant in the original Infernal and the standard Taldane doesn't do it justice... 'an it be adjudged well to the Weal of the Infernal Party, the Agreement be amended such that Payement of Damnation be satisfied by a substitute Soul furnished and guaranteed by the Mortal Party,' &c. &c., though the Infernal language controls, naturally. And every contract is unique. I'd offer you a Turanian red, ordinarily, but shortages, you know, though the water's clean, we've a private well."

"Oh, not thirsty, thank you. I did shop around for a satisfactory substitute when I was a bit younger, but tragically wasn't able to come to an agreement - I feel an anti-Hell government should be eager to loose the ultimate fates of its constituents, though, for any number of reasons - information best kept out of Hell's hands, for instance, and the salutary effect on the culture insofar as they care to bend it toward redemption, and to put paid to any question of divided loyalties in the wizarding and noble classes most susceptible. Do you happen to you know a reliable way to convince a contract-holder to accept a replacement? I'm sure there are ideas I didn't come up with when I was twenty."

"Quite so, quite so. I'd been considering" since a few sentences earlier in this conversation "assembling a committee at the Convention to consider this pressing issue, in fact. It's no doubt of grave concern to her Majesty, that loyal Subjects not be under the power of... a foreign Prince, as it were, and the very foreign Prince lately driven out of her Realm. To say nothing of, as you wisely note, the possibility of dual loyalty to said foreign Prince, and the clouding of titles, and so on."

"Now, the standard clause employs the standard formula" here, a few words of Infernal ", traditionally rendered 'adjudged well to the Weal', which carries the meaning that Hell's jurisprudence, taken broadly, view the substitution as greater in value. The Infernal party to such a clause has an interest in showing personal inflexibility in the interpretation of such terms, which is where many attempts may run aground, the contracted oft attempting in desperation to obtain the soul of some mighty adventurer to not merely satisfy, but oversatisfy foreclosing all refusal by the counterparty, thereby merely hastening his own damnation. But the Infernal party need not be inflexible in other transactions, such as conveying his own part to a broker of Hell, compensated thereto in the coin of Hell, which is business licit to any Infernal denizen. It is possible, then, to draft an agreement with such an Infernal broker, where the broker purchase and annul the original contract, such transaction occurring in the coin of Hell, receiving in consideration that which the mortal counterparty furnishes and guarantees, which need merely be profitable at all."

This is mostly made up on the spot, albeit based on various pieces of real contracts, and she thinks it might work? Devils are, as a rule, wilier than mortals at drafting, however, and certainly wilier than vaguely-plausible scenarios made up on the spot. But how would it look, worded in Infernal...

"Merely a hypothetical example, of course, each case is ultimately unique. Though were it a bulk negotiation, perhaps on behalf of her Majesty, it might draw the interest of a broker more readily."

"I do imagine that it might be easier to refinance a large package of souls than one at a time, yes," he says, with the polite blink of someone who has no idea what most of what she just said meant and definitely won't sign anything till his people look it over. "It seems like a suitable subject of a committee, though as yet I've not found out who-all naturally belongs thereupon."

"Yes, I've been mulling it over," this claim is more straightforwardly true, "how we're to ensure the right people to handle the important questions, I'd thought to propose a rule something like, 'a Committee be chosen by the President, first from those Volunteers who hold themselves forth &c. &c., thereafter if the number not satisfy him from the Membership', and naturally one would inform one's prospective volunteers of one's intent before proposing a committee, though it leaves open the possibility of busybodies on the Convention floor slipping in at the last moment, and perhaps a superior rule is something like 'a Committee be proposed by a Member, who shall give to the President the names of those Members desiring to serve on it for his Assent, &c. &c.'. After all, her Majesty commands and deserves good service of the Convention, and good service is best rendered by the right people, not those with merely frivolous interests."

"That would be the gentleman archmage Cottonet, the 'President'? Is he known to object to the autonomous formation of committees? It seems within the concept of the thing but I've only just heard of it, of course."

Lluïsa nods. "A close confidant of her Majesty, and presumed to speak with her voice. All proceedings, naturally, shall be subject to his review, so I mean to take great care in proposing any rules to him. I don't expect him to be disagreeable, after all, not all of deliberation is suited to open debate among hundreds, not with so many concerns and so few hours in a day, and the hours of an archmage are not to be lightly wasted."

"Well, I should be happy to sit on a committee dedicated to solving the problem where some of us are foreign possessions."

"And you seem the right sort to do so. May I trouble you for an address to send any relevant correspondence to?"

She's speedread the marquis' name and title off his letter earlier; rapid memorization is a vital survival skill. Memorize now, learn later.

"I've been staying at an inn, and if I should move to longer-term lodgings I'll leave the forwarding address with them; ask for the Marquis de Juncosa at the Hickory Branch."

She nods. "It's heartening to think we're all united in doing our duty to Queen and Country, and that we'll see it free in our lifetimes of unwanted foreign interlopers."

Maybe he'll even get out of Hell somehow. Lluïsa doesn't particularly expect to, and isn't particularly able to muster together a fully-formed desire to. At least Hell has devils.

"Hear, hear. I appreciate the consultation, bear my name in mind should you need anything I can supply." And he sees himself out.

This fascinating puzzle would be so much easier to turn over if she could just call a devil or two. Lluïsa contemplates briefly why she hasn't just killed herself to go to Hell... oh, so that's where the desire to avoid it was lurking. How undignified.

Oh well, there's things to draft.

Experiences! Her maid knocks, and then stands well back, very hesitant about the look of the building. Lucía hasn't managed to figure out a way to make her lightning knock on a door without making sooty black lichtenberg figures on it, but it's only a matter of time. 

It'll either be another interesting character or, finally, a rube to awe with legalese. Lluïsa finishes a sentence and goes to answer the door, angling her hat a bit for the precious extra inches of height.

"Hello, hello, old client or new?" she asks with a smile that definitely isn't overstretched and offputting. "Not one of mine or I'd have seen you before. Or is it... Convention business?"

At least it's a short interesting character, thank Mephistopheles.

"That's such a splendid hat!" she says, with a smile, getting down from her little thundercloud, presently a few feet off the ground. "I'm a Delegate to the Convention-" she waves her scroll about, "-having the honor of being the Condesa de Halmyris- but I'll be glad to pay for good advice anyway! It is in such short supply!" 

"Please, do come in. It's a pleasure to meet so many fellow delegates ahead of the Convention, and to see the great seriousness with which that laudable Assembly is treated."

In she goes, almost not flinching internally at breaching the inviolate client reception room once again. Mortals are inconstant, adaptable creatures, changing with each turn of circumstance; it's one of their great failings.

Lucía doesn't comment on the client reception room, seeing it as her due, her maid following her inside, and sits down in the best chair, as if it is her due. 

"My name is Lucía Velacruz i Montemayor, and I- I don't mind telling you- don't know how to write a Constitution."

She smiles. "However, I do know what I want out of it. I want as much out of it as I could possibly get, politically, financially and personally".

She fiddles with an earring. "It seems to me, that if I was to arrive at the convention with a proposal already made to that effect, that would entirely be to my advantage. I don't want a document of evil- it is perhaps now where the country is going. But there must be many ways to have a country. Many ways for people to be."

She looks at Lluïsa meaningfully.

"I'd like you to tell me what can be done, should be done, to make sure that my rights of wealth and nobility are protected, and that I, or my class, conde, get as much as a say, as possible."

"How should a constitution look, in order to provide that, and still be acceptable to the commons and the priests and the wizards and the merchants?" She counts in her head, and colors slightly. "And the Queen- of course." She coughs, embarrassed.

"Is that something that would be within your powers? And in return- well, I would pay."