There are a lot of possibilities. There are often a lot of possibilities, and she's usually pretty good at keeping track of them, and thereby ensuring that she looks blameless in whatever happens to happen, but in this case there are a lot of possibilities that seem rather beyond her reach. One is that Duke Valdemar is an ignorant country bumpkin who avoids the Capital because he knows it'd skin him alive. Another is that Duke Valdemar is served by the Emperor thinking that, or that someone else in the chain by which information makes its way from distant spy to briefing is served by that, or that the Emperor is served by people thinking he thinks that. Or for that matter that there is no Duke and no Valdemar and this is all an elaborate practical joke, there's always that possibility. 

Aritha is not allowed to contemplate disobeying the Emperor but she is, rather by necessity, allowed to contemplate that other people might betray the Emperor and Dukes of distant places seem the type, if anyone could. 

Also, she's been told not to dress as a ranked mage of the Imperial Court but as a courtesan assigned to the Duke, so it'll be less suspicious to have her flitting around.

All of this adds up to this not being her favorite assignment! Though it's also not her least favorite assignment; babysitting is unambiguously worse. 

She is prettily waiting at the other side of the Gate to escort the Duke to the palace, and compliment his horses, which she does from a book of positive qualities horses have; she didn't prove to be one of those people who collapses if not permitted an hour occasionally for hobbies, and so she doesn't have any. The horses look energetic, sensitive, and adaptable, she says, warmly. It is not without reason that people speak highly of the Duke's horsemanship. Was his journey pleasant. His journey lasted five seconds but people like being asked that anyway.

The horses had better have all of those positive qualities; they're probably the best-trained horses in the entire Empire. Kordas thanks the young woman, though, politely and absently. "The journey was very pleasant, thank you."

Surprisingly so. The Gatekeeper routed them directly to the Capital, which he wasn't expecting; his guess is that Lord Merrin, who showed up at the last minute to accompany him, gets priority in the Gate queue thanks to being a spy. Not that Kordas is officially supposed to know that he's a spy, of course. And - a note of confusion - he was expecting a greeting party, but not one this pretty. He's not sure whether to be suspicious, and settles on being the same amount of suspicious that he would be anyway just by dint of being in the Capital. His memories of this place are not fond ones.

In the flesh, Duke Valdemar is fit and muscled, reasonably handsome, and visibly uncomfortable in his Court garments. Which are elaborate enough to fit with standard Court dress, but noticeably a few years out of fashion, and close examination shows that the waistcoat was at one point unpicked at the seams and 'turned', to hide wear and tear on the fabric. The shirt has a neck-ruff and lace on the sleeves, both of which went out of fashion in the Palace several years ago; the two-colored greatcoat worn overtop, on the other hand, is much less ornate than what the courtiers are wearing this year. 

He wears fewer magical items than most Dukes, but the ones he has are high quality. The baldric over his shoulder, which carries his dress saber, bears a crest of Valdemar; the magical work on it is multilayered and clearly added to over years and maybe generations, but the ward-spells and memory-enhancing spells on it are recognizable. There's another spell that looks much newer than the rest; at a glance, it's probably mind-affecting as well, maybe an addition to the memory enhancement. 

His attention is clearly on the horses. Three strings of ten, plus two enormous chargers, their burnished-golden coats marking them as the famed Valdemar Gold breed. It's a generous tribute. More generous than was asked for, in fact. He glances around for the stablehands who ought to be here to get his horses settled. 

(Lord Merrin, who has visited the capital much more recently, snickers.) 

At this point, the construct-servants emerged from around a corner. 

They were more or less human shaped, with jointed limbs inside sewn canvas bodies, faces marked with the suggestion of facial features. They wore only tabards with the purple wolf’s-head of the Imperial servants.

“Oh, I forgot, Valdemar. You haven’t been here in over a decade, have you?” Merrin smirked. “We haven’t had human servants in the Imperial City for . . . well, years!” 

“What exactly are those things?” Duke Valdemar's caution and unease were easy to read. 

“Constructs," Merrin explains, with a careless wave of his hand. "We call them ‘Dolls.’ Ever so much more efficient than humans. They don’t need rest, they don’t need food, they can’t be hurt, and if one is broken, you can just burn it and replace it.”

Based on his quickly-smoothed-away grimace, Duke Valdemar is not exactly pleased by this development. 

Out of fashion and clueless about the constructs, which, again, could be 'country bumpkin who doesn't even have spies in the Capital to tell him what to wear' or 'person who wants to be seen as a country bumpkin and wants to be seen not to have spies in the Capital', or probably a dozen more complicated things. His thoughts are uninformative, not that that's surprising; you can't even be a country bumpkin of a Duke if you have informative thoughts all the time. Aritha is neatly compulsioned away from all the wrong ones and she assumes that most nobles who don't have that done to them directly do it themselves as a precaution for mixed company, even if they take it off sometimes when they're alone. A conspiratorial thought would actually be far more compelling evidence of the Duke's cluelessness and harmlessness than the unfashionable coat or the ignorance of the constructs.

And more possibilities: is the Duke too incompetent to conceal his facial expressions, or does he want to look that way? Or was he concealing something more complex? There's no actual reason to object to the construct-servants, if anything they're a humanitarian improvement what with how human servants sometimes got themselves executed for being morons. 

The constructs guide the horses off to the stables, which is good because she's all out of horse-related compliments. "And may I show you to your rooms, my Lord?"

The Duke's expression doesn't slip again; he keeps his face in an affable smile, which makes him look rather unintelligent, and might or might not be an act. He is apparently thinking wistfully about his landholding; right now he's looking at one of the enormous Valdemar Golds, now being led off to the stables by the Doll stablehands, and fondly remembering one of its training sessions. (His thoughts are very slightly stilted, in a way that would fit his being compulsioned away from all possibly-dangerous thoughts, and doesn't especially fit with him being so naive and clueless as to have failed to notice that thinking the wrong thoughts while in the Capital would be ill-advised.) 

Meanwhile, the Valdemaran stablehands who had supervised the transit were collecting the offered one-use Gate chits for their return. Some of the other constructs have arrived to serve Lord Merrin, who doesn't merit a human escort. Another three peel off and line themselves up to accompany Aritha and Duke Valdemar, who - actually makes eye contact with them, as much as a person can do that when they barely have faces, and smiles in a bemused sort of way.

He seems to be paying more attention to the Dolls than to Aritha, but answers her question with polite assent, and follows her up the grand stairs to the main entrance of the Palace, the Dolls falling into step behind him and carrying his considerable baggage with no apparent effort. 

...Is he gay. Did someone assign her to play courtesan to a gay Duke, as a joke. Milous might have done that but he gave the convincing impression at least that he was relaying orders, not inventing them. Maybe whether or not he's gay someone wants to start rumors that he is, or force him to choose between getting close to what is obviously his Court-assigned spy or feeding those rumors. 

(She's not sure how obvious it is that she's his Court-assigned spy; his thoughts haven't touched on that either. That she's a trained mage he isn't meant to detect, but that she's reporting to someone is about as obvious as that she needs to eat and sleep. On the other hand, people can be surprisingly oblivious.)

(Duke Valdemar is, in fact, thinking about the obvious spy a lot more than will be visible to her, thanks to the discreet stone amulet recently added to his Valdemar crest, covering his surface thoughts by replaying a series of memories of home. It's a clever design, and it was especially clever of his wife to ask one of their mages - of which there are a great deal more than the Emperor is aware of - to make it in preparation for this journey. Behind that facade, he's dwelling more than is really productive on what exactly he's done to earn this much attention. And wondering if the Emperor or his spies actually expect him to fall for the obvious ploy of assigning him a very attractive courtesan. If so, they clearly don't know him very well.) 

The Duke's personal Herald, also following him, seems rather overawed by the entrance: two huge doors, three stories tall, crafted of solid bronze and so perfectly balanced and oiled that a child might move them with a single fingertip, leading into a vast echoing chamber with no other physical entrances or exits, only endless Gate after Gate after Gate lining the walls, framed by the standard decorative metal arcs, and almost continuously in use by a bustle of people and constructs. Mostly constructs, right now. 

One of said constructs glances at Aritha, as though for permission, before approaching one of the voice-activated short-range Gates. “The Copper Apartment,” it says, clearly enough but in a voice breathier and higher-pitched than most humans. The mirror-surface of the Gate shivers, ripples, and clears to reveal an antechamber tiled in black and white checkered marble, polished copper walls, and some very uncomfortable-looking copper-colored furniture. 

Duke Valdemar barely glances at Aritha before stepping across. His Herald follows, looking discomfited. 

Aritha's going to be so annoyed if this is an elaborate practical joke on her. Or honestly even if it's an elaborate practical joke on the Duke. She is a mage, she has more important things to do. And also now if the Duke is up to anything, and he very well might be, the blame's going to fall on her, because she was ordered to be pretty in the vicinity. 

"I should check if they got everything set up decently," she says cheerfully. "They still make stupid mistakes sometimes, though not as often as when they were first introduced - why, one time, one of them managed to ruin all the fabric in six rooms with furniture polish!" Modulo all the usual caveats about whether anything actually happened or happened for the reasons anyone says. 

"Yes, yes, of course." He smiles absently at her, though - there's maybe a flicker of something else in that brief glance, something unreadable in his eyes. (Not that he is, apparently, thinking about her very much. He's now waxing nostalgic about the redesigned parlor in his manor while the Dolls busy themselves carrying bags into the appropriate bedrooms.)

He turns to one of the Dolls. "What do I call you?" 

     The Doll goes very still. “Please forgive,” it says, after a long pause. “This one does not understand.”

“Your name, what is it? I can’t just call you ‘Doll.’"

     “Why . . . would . . . milord Duke . . . wish this one to bear a name?”

“Because it’s polite?”

     This time the pause is very, very long, enough that Duke Valdemar looks slightly concerned, maybe worrying that he's managed to break the construct. “Milord Duke may call this one what he pleases," the Doll says finally. 

Unfortunately all this not-thinking is suggestive that he is trouble, or at least that he's not the incompetent he's otherwise presenting as. Unfortunately because Aritha'd love to write this off as a boring nobody and get back to work on magic artifacts, which is the most fun work.

She walks around the rooms, checking that everything's in place.

And notes, resentfully, that he seems much more interested in the names of the non-sentient constructs hauling his luggage than the actual person who is actually here to - well, admittedly, to spy on him, but. 

Well, probably that's the angle on him, then. So use it. 

She shuts the door, and says to the Duke, quietly, "are you worried about the Dolls?"

He blinks. Doesn't show surprise, especially, but his eyes narrow just a little. 

He shrugs. "Just - trying to gauge how they're being treated. They're clearly somewhat intelligent, and so it seems distasteful to treat them like mere - objects." 

(He wonders if he's being mindread right now, either by this brainless-looking courtesan who probably isn't brainless at all, or by someone else in range. Plausibly. He does have the ability to temporarily disable the amulet guarding his thoughts, but it might be detectable to a mage, and he can't and shouldn't assume that he's not being watched right now. He mustn't risk it, and will have to instead settle for hoping that the amulet's ability to pull up past memories and thoughts vaguely related to the current setting is convincing enough.) 

To Aritha's Thoughtsensing, he seems to be thinking about some of his own pages and servants, back in the duchy of Valdemar; going by his surface thoughts about them, they're treated rather well. 

"Decent of you. 

You know, I also have a name." Which is impudence enough he could absolutely demand to have her whipped about it, but she suspects it'll land differently than that.

He has the grace to look very slightly embarrassed (or, at least, that's the emotion that he allows to show on his face at all.) 

"- Oh dear, I apologize for my rudeness. I - have rather a lot on my mind. This is my first time back here in almost a decade, and it's..." A vague handwave at his surroundings. "To be honest, a little overwhelming. But I should remedy that rudeness. Duke Kordas of Valdemar, and it is my pleasure to make your acquaintance." 

The amulet helpfully shifts to thinking about his wife. An arranged marriage, which is standard amongst the noble families, and she has neither great beauty nor riches, but she's very capable when it comes to running their manor, and they find each other's company better than tolerable, which is really all you can ask for. He's tried very hard to do right by her. 

(Which isn't inconsistent with him being gay.)

"Aritha Tevanir. It's my pleasure to make your acquaintance also. The palace isn't a good place" she's not allowed to think that, but she is allowed to say it, "but it has its lovely corners, wherever people resolve to build one." Too much? Probably too much. "I'll be escorting you to dinner, later. If you ask the Dolls out-of-spec questions they get confused, but if you tell then they're on break I think they like that." She is making this up on the spot because she's literally never thought about what the Dolls want.

"I see. Thank you for that advice, I appreciate it and I'll keep that in mind. I will look forward to dinner, then." He meets her eyes, and his mouth is still set in the same pleasant smile, but his eyes are serious. "If I may ask - how are they with horses? My horses are very dear to me. Almost like my own children. My wife and I have been unable to have children of our own for many years, you see." 

(His thoughts are FULL OF HORSES, including a very vivid memory of what must be the story that made its rounds at Court. Duke Kordas of Valdemar himself, elbow-deep in a mare's vagina with each contraction threatening to break his arm - wrestling with a foal stuck in breech position, tense and worried and so, so relieved when those little hooves and little head finally slipped out...) 

'my wife is unable to have children' is usually flirting, but the man is hard to read, probably because he's done the compulsions on himself really intensely. Well, better to overdo it than underdo it, probably, and he hasn't been to the palace in a decade, so. "I'm afraid I don't know, but I'd be happy to check on the horses for you, and assign some human staff -" maybe Milous for giving her the ?gay? duke assignment - "if they seem out of their depth. Generous of you, to bring the emperor a gift you prize so highly."

"I would appreciate that very much." For a second or two, his smile is genuinely warm rather than perfunctory. "And - I am honored, of course, to have such an opportunity to serve the Emperor." Which is exactly the sort of thing that everyone says and everyone knows that you have to say and everyone knows that no one would ever mean literally.

"I had considered that perhaps the Emperor would ask me to stay on for a time," he adds. "It is not just in the breeding of fine horses that I serve him, but in their training as well, and I very much wish that my horses be trained to his satisfaction." 

This could be a (rather transparent) attempt to curry favor at Court, but he's not thinking about impressing the Emperor.

For some reason, instead, he's instead thinking about his wife's younger sister. After her father's death with no male heirs, the Emperor granted her family landholding to a favored courtier, and she was turned out. It's not clear where she would have gone if Duke Valdemar and his wife hadn't taken her in. She's a sweet child, but very very young - twelve years younger than her sister, in fact, she's barely sixteen now - and rather infatuated with him, which he's been trying to think of ways to dissuade. Giving her the newborn filly - a Valdemar Gold, from one of his most prized mares - is probably not the way to gently discourage that, but she did make herself quite useful during the birth, which could have gone a lot worse than it did. She's earned it. 

And why would he want to stay longer in this place that he hates? 

Aritha is concerned this job is actually going to be interesting, and difficult, and she's really not in the mood for that. 

"I can convey that request, if you'd like; I cannot imagine that the emperor wouldn't be honored."

"My gratitude." He nods to her, almost deep enough to count as a bow, and then glances over his shoulder, and hurries off to instruct one of the Dolls on some nuance or other of how he wants his belongings unpacked and his clothes put away. 

Then she'll go report to Milous. Not that she has much to report, yet. 

"Why am I on this assignment."