It hasn't reached the Council of the Most High yet (being as they are the five most sane individuals in the world, a thought that makes each of them shudder for very different reasons, they are busier than mere mortals can comprehend), but apparently Raina, their new sister in the faith, a stranger and foreigner with a chequered and well-hidden past, having come to the far-flung land of Valynrest in which the Church has only a tenuous foothold, has managed to make her way precipitously to a position of power, to the inmost royal court, and suborn a Churchly prince. 

And now she has some novel theological opinions for them!

How delightful. 

How is she intending to go about this, then?

With the support of two Archbishops, of course. 

She's dressed in colours that would appeal to Aphrodite, and the chains on her neck seem somehow to feel harmonious with her. She wears them with some dignity, if not with pride. They gleam softly in the light as she stares up at the Council. 

In her eyes, there is the fierce glimmer of a queen-to-be. This place that she loves, that has loved her, that has been ravaged and war-torn and obliterated, deserves some protection for its citizens. 

In the end, her case is simple. The Church's laws around prostitution were initially meant to protect those who might sell their services. The current restrictions do little more than encourage black market trading and gangs of thugs as their enforcers. Were the Crown and the Church to work together to sanction the activity, creating a courtesan's Guild, it would be much easier and safer for all involved in terms of regulation and protection. They are prepared to negotiate the jurisdiction the Church of Aphrodite would have over the Guild, provided that the Guild would be allowed to operate freely in fair trade of services for money.

"We ask for a license to allow the Crown to operate in such a way in Volturgard," she finishes, giving a small bow. 

Oh, here we go. 

Even she didn't expect the Valynrest situation to fall apart this quickly. 

Of all the people who come to their court, it's the ones who imagine they can be the exception to the rule that bother her the most. 

It could always be worse. In fact it usually is, it's usually more like "my court wizard is so useful, can he do a little demonology as a treat?" or "I know I swore an oath of fealty, but I've changed my mind" or "tell the bishops they're my peasants and I can do what I want to them."

Valynrest was obviously on the precipice even before the dragon, and the past thirty years do not exactly speak well of it. Appointing Ophel and Emel and sponsoring King Voltur and taking the extraordinary step of awarding them the power of deposition was already done out of desperation, and cost them dearly in diplomacy with half a dozen other princes who suddenly also had fantastically compelling reasons to be given lots of ecclesiastical power right now no questions asked. 

She's so, so tired. 

It was a wonderful speech, and the queen who shall be is fair indeed to look upon, lovely and graceful as she is; in her, in the fire in her eyes and the set of her stance, in the way she manages to wear a supplicant's robe and a penitent's chain like flowers and jewels, there is something of beauty and wonder, something of the way the world should have been; something of the world that they say once was. 

She wishes she lived in that world. 

"You have said many things that would properly give us pause," she says after a while, meeting Raina's eyes squarely. "But the first for me is - that I am surprised indeed, to hear you say so plainly and so swiftly that the King Voltur has lost control of law and order within his kingdom. Do you claim that he is careless of such important matters? Or was our vast aid given in vain, and his kingdom fallen to chaos?"

She can almost taste it. There's something there. A little nugget to mine for, something to dig at with Myre. Her bardic abilities have always sweetened around things she is good at, and over time, her instincts for things she can succeed at and the possibility of the world shifting under her will have mingled a little, become part of the same tingle in her blood. It's there now. 

She spreads her hands in supplication. "I truly doubt anyone could forsee the consequences of the last few months' events. I could bore you with the geopolitics, Most High Ones, but it would be much simpler to say that the Queen has not left us with an excellent structure to work with, and the kingdom plunging immediately into an end-of-days situation has not been conducive to correcting it. You know, with the city being burned to a crisp and all."

She draws higher, but lowers her gaze, amassing the appropriate deference. It's not hard. She might be a queenling, but the High Ones glow with divine purpose. Plus, Ophel's nasally little voice is in her head pounding at her to treat them with respect and bow in the right way and speak just so and-

"And he would not presume to take over policing a sector where it is unclear where the Church's involvement begins and ends. There is little that batons and swords patrolling the streets can do if the protectees are not correctly situated and organised." 

"I truly come with the protection of the people in mind. We are in fact asking that the Church of Aphrodite be more involved in these matters - simply in a structure that allows the Crown to properly protect the vendors." 

"With what money."

People assume the Church has gold flowing like water because nobody understands wealthlore. Nor does he, in fact, but at least he knows what he doesn't know.

Well, all she can do now is enjoy the ride. 

"Your point about the Queen is well taken. She is a grievous lost, the only archmage directly loyal to us. Have you news of her? She was wise as well as learned, and all this that she has "left you with" may only be another ploy of hers, to some unknown wizardly end."

She holds up a hand. 

"Practicalities aside, this is a matter of doctrinal law, which is not lightly altered. I assume, Raina, that you do not fancy yourself a scholar, nor do you bear some supposed grand revelation from Heaven," they get more of those than you'd think - apparently among lords and princes mighty enough to petition the Church, belief that one is the subject of enlightenment is a popular form of madness, "but rather you believe your situation is special, so special that it might merit temporary, local dispensation, as is permitted in the case of lesser laws such as these." 

She raises her eyebrows at the High Ones, not in impertinence, but rather in morbidly amused chagrin. "I would certainly call these specific, localised, and unprecedented circumstances. We ask for your supervision over this matter in Volturgard - on the Crown's dime, of course," she adds, with a bow to Khemez, "- and perhaps once the dust settles on the matter of the Great Wyrm, we might revisit this with a more permanent solution in mind. Certainly, King Voltur would be able to devote more attention to policies like this."