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Iobel is barely related to the Countess. The Countess is her great-aunt, and there are several layers of not-very-close family in there: the Countess never much liked her sister, said sister engendered little fondness in her only daughter, and said daughter - well, Iobel liked her just fine, which only served to cement the distance between her and the Countess. Iobel supposes she is technically in line for the title, but only if a rather intimidating number of cousins from that more prolific branch of the family all succumb to mortality first.

So Iobel lives in a little flat above a little store and under the old landlord and his wife, and she cohabits with her cat, and she sells hexes and custom spellcharts and consults on other people's spells in progress. It's a decent living even though she buys nice, quality things to lay the hexes on, and it's fun, and she has lots of spare time for personal research and reading since she taught the cat to operate the cash drawer and speak the few Marlese words necessary to tell customers "thank you" and "my spellbinder will be back in an hour" and convinced him to actually use those words instead of his choicer acquisitions.

But she is still noticeably related to the Countess, and when the Countess holds a big shindig, when she wants to fill up that manor house and all the gardens with eight hundred people, then Iobel gets an invitation.

So she goes, because why not, it's a holiday party and the shop's getting no business on the Equinox Revel anyway. She brings Cricket the cat along and takes the ferry up the canal to the estate and is offered a little guest room in the back wing and subtly insulted into borrowing one of her great-aunt's old dresses for the duration of the party. And then she loiters, cat at her heels making rude private-language comments about everyone they see, and she eats the hors d'oeuvres and lets some cousin teach her a simple dance because she finally managed a spell to cure her clumsiness the other month and this is as good an opportunity as any.
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At such a large party, with so many possible spellbinders, a large menagerie of creatures are going to loiter around with their people. Some are not on their person's shoulder or on their heels, though - one such raven lands in front of Iobel and considers her, looks at Cricket, and then flies off. Apparently this is to retrieve his person, because shortly after a good looking man in his forties shows up, raven perched on his shoulder.

"Hello," says the man with a smile. "I don't believe we've met, and I try to know every spellbinder of nobility. I'm Natariem Oteliar."
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"Iobel Swan, but I'm only loosely nobility, the countess is my mother's aunt," says Iobel. "And this is Cricket. Cricket doesn't know a lot of Marlese but he prefers to be introduced anyway." Cricket rubs against her calf and purrs.

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"It's a pleasure to meet you both." He inclines his head to both cat and woman. His raven does not appear to want to be introduced, instead taking off to look at something else in the party. "My familiar does not have much concept of manners," adds Natariem wryly.

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"Mine doesn't either or I might have taught him more of the vernacular." (Cricket sniffs disdainfully.)

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He smiles. "He seems perfectly polite to me, but perhaps I am wrong. Is this your first time at one of these parties?"

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"I was at one when I was - twelve, if I recall right, but I'm not a regular attendee by any means."

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"Aha. So you've barely seen what parties were like before the late queen."

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"Parties are not," agrees Iobel, "my index of the anything much."

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"That's entirely all right. Most of them are filled with boring people, anyway. Chatting about the latest gossip and such." He lowers his voice, and changes it to sound slightly mocking. "'What sort of hairstyle does the crown prince favor? Maybe he'll marry me, I'm pretty enough.'"

It's pretty obvious he's got little to no respect for those types of people.

(They're useful, sometimes, but not on their own merits. Easy to manipulate, but without any skills to bring to the table and therefore replaceable and expendable.)
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"Does Prince Zevros have much of an opinion on hairstyles?" laughs Iobel.

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"Not particularly, no. But I doubt he'd marry any of them, anyway, he's still young and experimenting - Edarial's a better bet."

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"I wouldn't know, never having met either," says Iobel neutrally.

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"They're at least both likely to be better rulers than their mother, that's for sure," he snorts. "Though that's really not difficult."

If she were alive, even he wouldn't dare say this out loud in any tongue but his familiar's. But she's not, so he can use her ineptness as a rallying point.
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"I would not have been inclined to describe that as a tremendous bar to clear, no, so that says comparatively little about the princes except that they're neither of them her spitting image."

Cricket mutters something in his own individual language. Iobel snorts at him.
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"I've met them both - I don't know if you'd care for me to give an overview or not?"

And hear her opinions on the subject.
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She shrugs. "Sure, why not. I'd like to know something about whoever's going to wind up on the throne, I live here."

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"Zevros is a talented young swordsman who is remarkably straightforward and to the point," says Natariem. "But he has a wicked temper, no respect for authority, and little foresight. If he ever does take the throne I'd want to wait a decade, so he's had some time to grow up."

Natariem considers the firstborn prince something of a failure. He's got admirable qualities, surely, but it's unlikely that Zevros will do much to leave a lasting effect. Not the sort of thing Natariem's hoping for.

"Most of the smart ones are hoping Zevros abdicates in favor of his brother, though. Rather standoffish and cold, but he's no fool and has a sense of honor and fairness about things. I suspect there are a few changes to the country that are his doing, but I couldn't give specifics as to what."

It's a lie. He could explain what he's up to, exactly, so easily. He keeps a close watch on Edarial - he has high hopes for the boy. He's very much his father's son, patient and thoughtful and clever. The boy still needs to have some of his more starchy morals driven out of him, but as an heir to the throne, he's a good choice.
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"Does Zevros seem likely to do that?"

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"Anyone's guess. I think he might just to avoid getting married, but I could be wrong. He's volatile and somewhat unpredictable."

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"He can't find anyone he wants to marry, I suppose?"

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"... There are rumors of a few of his habits," says Natariem delicately. "They do not include women."

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"Oh, I see. It would be more convenient for everyone if adopting heirs was an accepted practice, wouldn't it?"

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"It would, quite a lot. Just pick someone that would be a reasonable king or queen and put them in charge."

Natariem would like very much to be in charge, but it's not happening. He's got no personal claim to the throne.
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"There could be trial periods, essay tests..."

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"Small-scale problems for them to handle to see if they can handle crises when the stakes are low - I wish for it too. But, alas."

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