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Making the Circuit: Faolteth

The sprawling and lazy sun-drenched countryside of Faolteth was about as far from the Gothic-Oriental masterpiece that was Angrist as one could adequately get from a culture similarly advanced. The castle was not a huge, dominating edifice, rather it was a beautiful wooden Hall ringed with a purely ceremonial-looking pikewall that had vine roses, sweet peas and something like huge scarlet poppies twisted around it, tied in place sometimes with flashes of white ribbon.

Its ruler was likewise decidedly different from Emberick. He had chosen to meet the Patternghost in a small, cozy study done all in shades of green and ochre, and with an unlit baroque fireplace.

Arthur himself was a medium-sized man just on the edge of being painfully thin. He had very pale skin that he emphasized with powder, and wore a white wig, although it was hardly as elaborate as some in his court, restrained except for being studded with small diamonds. He was not handsome, but possessed a lively and aggressive charisma that mainly came from his phenomenal energy for life and his sunny disposition.

"Come in, dear fellow," he called, toying with a silver snuffbox. "Anything I can get you from the bar? I am having a slosh of cognac."

"Bourbon's fine," The Devil said casually, taking a seat and making himself comfortable.

"Right. Just a moment, sugarbum." Arthur clinked about with glasses and ice, and moments later emerged with two snifter glasses. "So," he perched on the edge of the glass, "what was it you wanted to talk about?"

The Gentleman in Black chuckled. He had never been particularly comfortable with homoerotic overtones, but he had to give Arthur credit. The man was brave... and highly amusing. "What you're going to do... in the near future."

"Do? Oh, the usual," Arthur shrugged with one shoulder, carrying the bourbon out to his guest. He blew at an extra strand of white wig that had fallen across his nose, and gave a 'what are you going to do?' look. "Have a quiet, enjoyable life in my beautiful country. And you, dear fellow?"

"Good, good," Il Diavolo nodded at that, took the bourbon, sipped it. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear. I... am going to run around doing work for the Count." He chuckled. "The usual."

"And the purpose of this visit?" Arthur sniffed a little snuff.

"Oh, what I just said," Old Nick swirled the bourbon in his cup, clinking the ice against the glass. "I'm just checking, making sure no one in the Star of Order is going to do anything to jeopardize their safety."

"Don't you mean 'jeopardize your safety'?" Arthur asked politely.

"I meant what I said," the Devil chuckled, showing his white white teeth. "Because I know that you won't do anything foolish."

Arthur grinned. "Me? Of course not. I'm not ambitious like Emberick or full of vitriol like Rinaldo. But it does make me curious about what you lovely gents have planned."

Il Diavolo took a sip of bourbon, made an irritating "ah" noise, and said, "Get used to disappointment."

"If one could," Arthur said philosophically, "would it really be disappointment?"

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