She's not actually sure this is the most strategic thing for her to be doing. It's possible that she should be socializing with the high nobility and the Menadorians and making alliances and acquiring political power among the mighty to keep them from doing something rash (not that likely, if they're talking to each other, the ones who are predictably stupid are stupid in different directions) or against her interests (much more likely).

But as many riots and times of unrest she has handled, it's been nearly twenty years since she had one where she felt nearly this useless. She knows no one in the local power structure except a handful of delegates and Pau-Roger Santcliment, and he's initially dead and then recovering from a raise.

When there was a convention, she felt like she was missing a leg. Now that the city is angry and afraid and dangerous, she feels like she's down an arm, an eye, and both ears.

Lord Mayor Santcliment is not much of a politician and when she offers to organize any of his spellcasting staff and clerks to go out into the city and earn goodwill honestly, his office is receptive. (Possibly only because she's an Archduchess. But it's not like he's going to feel threatened that she'll try to steal his city out from under him. Possibly he doesn't even want to keep it anymore.) She burns some favors and all the non-emergency charges of her teleport staff to bring more of her own to Westcrown. She has a dozen pairs of eyes and ears searching for places a modest amount of magic or the attention of some wealthy people could do a lot of good, and be recognized as doing good. A half-dozen looking for people who others are asking for help.

From morning until dusk - she'd be getting off the street even if the rain wasn't going to start - she travels the city. Making friends, or at least people who know she did them a favor and asked for nothing other than suggestions of where to go next. And listening. To what they say, and what they don't. Which churches they like, which merchants and artisans they distrust. Who they have bought help from before, and who has had others ask for it from them. Rebuilding her eyes and arms one conversation at a time. It won't be nearly as good as what she has in Kintargo; that took years of slow reinforcement. 

After a day, she feels almost comfortable in her skin. By the end of the week, she feels like she could do something if there was another round of riots. Probably not stop it, no, not without, oh, Alexeara Cansellarion and Valia Wain and Inquisitor Shawil all working with her. But she could stop part of it.

And she doesn't feel helpless.

She's not actually sure this is the most strategic thing for her to be doing. It's possible that she should be socializing with the high nobility and the Menadorians and making alliances and acquiring political power among the mighty to keep them from doing something rash (not that likely, if they're talking to each other, the ones who are predictably stupid are stupid in different directions) or against her interests (much more likely).

But as many riots and times of unrest she has handled, it's been nearly twenty years since she had one where she felt nearly this useless. She knows no one in the local power structure except a handful of delegates and Pau-Roger Santcliment, and he was nearly killed and will be recovering from his torments for days, at least.

When there was a convention, she felt like she was missing a leg. Now that the city is angry and afraid and dangerous, she feels like she's down an arm, an eye, and both ears.

Lord Mayor Santcliment is not much of a politician and when she offers to organize any of his spellcasting staff and clerks to go out into the city and earn goodwill honestly, his office is receptive. (Possibly only because she's an Archduchess. But it's not like he's going to feel threatened that she'll try to steal his city out from under him. Possibly he doesn't even want to keep it anymore.) She burns some favors and all the non-emergency charges of her teleport staff to bring more of her own to Westcrown. She has a dozen pairs of eyes and ears searching for places a modest amount of magic or the attention of some wealthy people could do a lot of good, and be recognized as doing good. A half-dozen looking for people who others are asking for help.

From morning until dusk - she'd be getting off the street even if the rain wasn't going to start - she travels the city. Making friends, or at least people who know she did them a favor and asked for nothing other than suggestions of where to go next. And listening. To what they say, and what they don't. Which churches they like, which merchants and artisans they distrust. Who they have bought help from before, and who has had others ask for it from them. Rebuilding her eyes and arms one conversation at a time. It won't be nearly as good as what she has in Kintargo; that took years of slow reinforcement. 

After a day, she feels almost comfortable in her skin. By the end of the week, she feels like she could do something if there was another round of riots. Probably not stop it, no, not without, oh, Alexeara Cansellarion and Valia Wain and Inquisitor Shawil all working with her. But she could stop part of it.

And she doesn't feel helpless. Caring about that is probably, in Infernal terms, pathetic, but it matters quite a lot to her at the moment.

She's not actually sure this is the most strategic thing for her to be doing. It's possible that she should be socializing with the high nobility and Molthunians and Menadorians and making alliances and acquiring political power among the mighty to keep them from doing something rash (not that likely, if they're talking to each other, the ones who are predictably stupid are stupid in different directions) or against her interests (much more likely).

But as many riots and times of unrest she has handled, it's been nearly twenty years since she had one where she felt nearly this useless. She knows no one in the local power structure except a handful of delegates and Pau-Roger Santcliment, and he was nearly killed and will be recovering from his torments for days, at least.

When there was a convention, she felt like she was missing a leg. Now that the city is angry and afraid and dangerous, she feels like she's down an arm, an eye, and both ears.

Lord Mayor Santcliment is not much of a politician and when she offers to organize any of his spellcasting staff and clerks to go out into the city and earn goodwill honestly, his office is receptive. (Possibly only because she's an Archduchess. But it's not like he's going to feel threatened that she'll try to steal his city out from under him. Possibly he doesn't even want to keep it anymore. In his place, she probably wouldn't.) She burns some favors and all the non-emergency charges of her teleport staff to bring more of her own to Westcrown. She has a dozen pairs of eyes and ears searching for places a modest amount of magic or the attention of some wealthy people could do a lot of good, and be recognized as doing good. A half-dozen looking for people who others are asking for help.

From morning until dusk - she'd be getting off the street even if the rain wasn't going to start - she travels the city. Making friends, or at least people who know she did them a favor and asked for nothing other than suggestions of where to go next. And listening. To what they say, and what they don't. Which churches they like, which merchants and artisans they distrust. Who they have bought help from before, and who has had others ask for it from them. Rebuilding her eyes and arms one conversation at a time. It won't be nearly as good as what she has in Kintargo; that took years of slow reinforcement. 

After a day, she feels almost comfortable in her skin. By the end of the week, she feels like she could do something if there was another round of riots. Probably not stop it, no, not without, oh, Alexeara Cansellarion and Valia Wain and Inquisitor Shawil all working with her. But she could stop part of it.

And she doesn't feel helpless. Caring about that is probably, in infernal terms, pathetic, but it matters quite a lot to her at the moment.

She's not actually sure this is the most strategic thing for her to be doing. It's possible that she should be socializing with the high nobility and Molthunians and Menadorians and making alliances and acquiring political power among the mighty to keep them from doing something rash (not that likely, if they're talking to each other, the ones who are predictably stupid are stupid in different directions) or against her interests (much more likely).

But as many riots and times of unrest she has handled, it's been nearly twenty years since she had one where she felt nearly this useless. She knows no one in the local power structure except a handful of delegates and Pau-Roger Santcliment, and he was nearly killed and will be recovering from his torments for days, at least.

When there was a convention, she felt like she was missing a leg. Now that the city is angry and afraid and dangerous, she feels like she's down an arm, an eye, and both ears.

Lord Mayor Santcliment is not much of a politician and when she offers to organize any of his spellcasting staff and clerks to go out into the city and earn goodwill honestly, his office is receptive. (Possibly only because she's an Archduchess. But it's not like he's going to feel threatened that she'll try to steal his city out from under him. Possibly he doesn't even want to keep it anymore. In his place, she probably wouldn't.) She burns some favors and all the non-emergency charges of her teleport staff to bring more of her own to Westcrown. She has a dozen pairs of eyes and ears searching for places a modest amount of magic or the attention of some wealthy people could do a lot of good, and be recognized as doing good. A half-dozen looking for people who others are asking for help.

From morning until dusk - she'd be getting off the street even if the rain wasn't going to start - she travels the city. Making friends, or at least people who know she did them a favor and asked for nothing other than suggestions of where to go next. And listening. To what they say, and what they don't. Which churches they like, which merchants and artisans they distrust. Who they have bought help from before, and who has had others ask for it from them. Rebuilding her eyes and arms one conversation at a time. It won't be nearly as good as what she has in Kintargo; that took years of slow reinforcement. 

After a day, she feels almost comfortable in her skin. By the end of the week, she feels like she could do something if there was another round of riots. Probably not stop it, no, not without, oh, Alexeara Cansellarion and Valia Wain and Inquisitor Shawil all working with her. But she could stop part of it.

And she doesn't feel helpless. Caring about that is probably, in infernal terms, pathetic, but it matters quite a lot to her at the moment.

She's not actually sure this is the most strategic thing for her to be doing. It's possible that she should be socializing with the high nobility and Molthunians and Menadorians and making alliances and acquiring political power among the mighty to keep them from doing something rash (not that likely, if they're talking to each other, the ones who are predictably stupid are stupid in different directions) or against her interests (much more likely).

But as many riots and times of unrest she has handled, it's been nearly twenty years since she had one where she felt nearly this useless. She knows no one in the local power structure except a handful of delegates and Pau-Roger Santcliment, and he was nearly killed and will be recovering from his torments for days, at least.

When there was a convention, she felt like she was missing a leg. Now that the city is angry and afraid and dangerous, she feels like she's down an arm, an eye, and both ears.

Lord Mayor Santcliment is not much of a politician and when she offers to organize any of his spellcasting staff and clerks to go out into the city and earn goodwill honestly, his office is receptive. (Possibly only because she's an Archduchess. But it's not like he's going to feel threatened that she'll try to steal his city out from under him. Possibly he doesn't even want to keep it anymore. In his place, she probably wouldn't.) She burns some favors and all the non-emergency charges of her teleport staff to bring more of her own to Westcrown. She has a dozen pairs of eyes and ears searching for places a modest amount of magic or the attention of some wealthy people could do a lot of good, and be recognized as doing good. A half-dozen looking for people who others are asking for help.

From morning until dusk - she'd be getting off the street even if the rain wasn't going to start - she travels the city. Making friends, or at least people who know she did them a favor and asked for nothing other than suggestions of where to go next. And listening. To what they say, and what they don't. Which churches they like, which merchants and artisans they distrust. Who they have bought help from before, and who has had others ask for it from them. Rebuilding her eyes and arms one conversation at a time. It won't be nearly as good as what she has in Kintargo; that took years of slow reinforcement. 

After a day, she feels almost comfortable in her skin. By the end of the week, she feels like she could do something if there was another round of riots. Probably not stop it, no, not without, oh, Alexeara Cansellarion and Valia Wain and Inquisitor Shawil all working with her. But she could stop part of it.

And she doesn't feel helpless. Caring about that is probably, in infernal terms, pathetic, but it matters quite a lot to her at the moment.