The gold liquid poured down like that of a narrow waterfall, splashing against its clear prison, an aroma escaping as it settled, a hint of honey and just a touch of banana spreading like a delectable cloud only to burst open and silently spread about. It was subtle. Delightful, yet not overwhelming. As the stream poured out, one glass full as it moved onto another, then the third.

Three glasses arranged in a triangle, one for each patron of the table. The first went to the head of the table, the woman who had brought Oak Town into its modern golden era, Astrid Venier. The young Senator and Guild Master of Phantom Lord, to those who looked on and saw the woman seated in the booth, it was difficult to believe that this were the woman that simultaneously was thought of as one of the most powerful and most frightening people within all of Oak Town.

And yet there she was. Eyes focused upon her as she sat within one of the private booths of the Swineherd Pub, one such establishment that had firsthand witnessed great prosperity since Astrid’s involvement in Oak Town. It was a stark reminder of the difference between her and her predecessor; her public profile, the face forever tied to the golden era that Oak Town found itself thriving within, the story that her political path led her, like a prophet coming to the aid of their flock, that was the image she painted for herself. And Iblis? While he may have inspired fear within the hearts of Oak Town, the greatest accomplishment that he will be remembered for would likely be paving the way for Astrid’s ascension.

Within the booth there were two others. One of them, the waiter who had taken great pride in his craft, his masterwork handling of the uncorked bottle reflective of the trio of glasses, the golden liquid in each perfectly balanced along one another, not a drop more or less than the other. The first glass went to Astrid, as expected. The second went to the woman who sat beside her, a Junior Senator born and raised within Oak Town. An aspiring girl who had ambition, one of several who had captured the eye and interest of Astrid, if only for the sake of flushing out the Senators loyal to Iblis. She was a piece, but a key piece in what was a political execution, wiping out Iblis’ grasp over Oak Town, all but save for his throne within Phantom Lord itself.

But now even that seat belonged to her, the antithesis to the golden persona that she as much carried. The devil and the angel simultaneously representing Oak Town in its greater and worst aspects. It was a duality that left none capable of appreciating one side of her without being leery of the other. Yet her deeds spoke for themselves. Her deeds, it would take Astrid feeding Oak Town to the Void itself to tilt the scales out of her favor.

And then there was the third glass, purposely positioned opposite Astrid across the table. A drink for a guest, she insisted. Who the guest was, neither the waiter nor the Junior Senator could get much of an answer out of Astrid. A dismissive non-answer, an insistence of waiting until they arrived was the best that they could coax out of her.

That and a smirk, one of a figure that knew exactly what card sat atop the deck, but was unwilling to draw, waiting for someone to provide the right answer first. For all of the attempts to figure just who it was that may have been joining them, they would have to see for themselves.

Just as Astrid would have to see.

In reality, her guest was as much a mystery to her as to the others within the booth. All parties, those present and those coming were all cut from the same cloth. Mystery was the only commonality scattered across them, even if the one yet to arrive did not realize it yet.

She took a sip from the glass, the aroma that had been so heavily confined within that it exploded in a small burst of aroma as she held the glass up to her lips. Not a large sip, but just enough to appreciate the flavor. The smirk dissipated away as a pleasant smile instead formed upon her face, overjoyed at the selection she had made. Her glance, having so long having been focused on the crowd of onlookers that watched them, finally averted to that of the waiter, the light tipping of her glass indicating her interest, “Prepare another bottle of this, if you would be so kind,” her words were both cold and welcoming. A polite request with an underlying sense that refusal was not possible. But the added context perhaps was not necessary as the waiter nodded in outright approval, signaling his departure as he acquired Astrid’s preferred drink.

“Oh, and if you should happen upon our guest, please see to it that they are directed here. Trust me, you’ll know them when you see them.” She called out, a subtle wave of the hand accompanying her words as unbeknownst to most within the Swineherd Pub would have been unaware of, the Phantom Lord stamp on the back of her neck disappearing.

After all, it was intended to be a meeting between the two of them, the Junior Senator beside her fortunate enough to be considered an onlooker, nothing more. Leaning back in her seat, her finger ran along the rim of the glass of wine, temptation certainly there to enjoy another sip, but to have already broken the symmetry between the glasses, it would be only proper that she waited.

A more than acceptable price to pay, she figured. She had waited a short time, but she suspected it only be a small bit longer before her guest finally arrives.

One of her once-children, finally having a chance to meet their Mother.

----

Phantom Lord, Rank 1:
Unseen Menace: By tapping their guild mark, the user makes it disappear which hides their identity and prevents them from being invaded in topics they created. Users with a bounty instead have the effects of their reputation reduced by two levels.

Their conversation lingered on, reflections of ongoing political matters, instances of strife and success mutually and individually encountered. For the many that operated in the same political theatre as the pair of them did, it was nothing particularly noteworthy, conversations and details that only mattered to the two of them. To the eavesdropper, the desperate hopeful that may have thought being in close proximity would have resulted in some sort of key to glory, it was little more than some words that without the context only understood by them could have meant anything. Some utterances of a festival, a reference to the nation of Joya, Demi-Human, but otherwise hardly anything anyone could make.

Especially not those whom had indulged in a drink or two like much of the patrons already, whatever sense of perception they had already mulled, if not eroded to the point of simply imagining things than anything else.  It was in part for that reason that Astrid found this area such a welcome one to discuss matters like this with her fellow Oak Town Senators and important figures alike. Whatever discussed was as likely to be lost as the Jewels that were haphazardly thrown upon the bar counter.

There was also the added benefit too that came with such a public spot; the exposure. Iblis had long operated in Oak Town through the shadows, his appearance more indicative of someone having made a grave mistake than anything else. But in Astrid, there was a face now to stick to both sides of the coin. The one who presumably would carry on that horrific legacy, the assumed moniker of The Mother, the disassociation between it and the name Astrid Venier that left just enough legitimacy to where even those among the most sage would struggle to know where either face began or ended.

And even to the most discerning minds, likely they would prefer the route of ignorance. For whatever motivations that Astrid may have had towards assuming the duality of roles that she was playing, it was impossible to not recognize the boon that she had been towards Oak Town, bringing it into its first true Golden Age in over a century. To them, they knew not to bite the hand that feeds. To those that were not quite so enlightened, she was simply a political bigshot; an important person who tended to do important things that most people in their position couldn’t hope to appreciate.

It was a beautifully veiled cover, driven by ignorance.

And it made such affairs like these so easy to manage. While most would fearful or leery to approach out of that mystique, it only happened to make those who actively sought her stand out even more amongst the crowd. There was something to appreciate in looking into a pair of intense eyes that stared back, their will as much begging for an opportunity to prove their mortal worth. And for some, they earned that opportunity. It often came at a hardship, a test of faith that had to be earned and achieved, not unlike the woman before her, a young woman with political ambitions that Astrid had taken a chance on. And she had earned her worth, more even than perhaps what she may have realized.

Then there were the select few. Few in number, few in circumstances. But for some, there was no worth to prove. Circumstances, luck, any number of things that may have swayed the scales in their favor.

And sometimes, it was simply just timing.

She had pulled herself away from the Junior Senator, her eyes catching a glimpse of the intense golden pupils that fixated upon her own. A young woman, younger than Astrid perhaps had first envisioned. It was almost humorous in that she had taken to visage of being called The Mother that the closeness of ages seemed to have become a blur. This woman, she were likely similar to that of Kanna, or even Astrid, for that matter. Yet, she was a child all the same in her eyes.

A minor raising of her head and focus was committed entirely, Astrid watching with intent and the most deviously innocent smile upon her face. Her attention fully enveloped as the woman moved closer, the details of her face, of her figure becoming all the more prominent and etched within her memory. She may not have quite been what Astrid envisioned when she first opened the letter, but as she watched the figure moving closer, her own eyes equally focused upon Astrid, the smile upon her face only seemed to become just a bit more pronounced. A hand lifted, index finger extended towards the Junior Senator, as polite of a way of asking for silence as could have been afforded while her attention was otherwise occupied. It was then that the other woman turned, noticing their approaching guest and quickly putting thing together.

The thought crossed her mind to stand and greet the woman, any doubt that may have lingered towards whom her intended audience was all but dispelled, but she remained there instead. The invitation had been extended by her after all. This woman, this ‘queen-to-be’ as her correspondence described her as, had the distinct honor of being in the company of Oak Town’s true queen.

For Astrid to have stood, what would it say to her throne, to be held of equal to guests and once-children of Phantom Lord?

Her eyes watched closely, the girl having revealed plenty of herself as she took her seat, not through instruction but rather by placement of the third glass left out for her. There was so much that one could learn without even so much as a word spoken. It wouldn’t last as the woman spoke, her words quick, some coyness to it interlaced with a roughness too. Frustration perhaps, exhaustion more likely, but she held it in check well. Well enough to further intrigue Astrid.

“There’s no need to apologize,” Astrid remarked calmly, indignant even. “The Senator and I regrettably seemed to have gotten carried away with our discussion, to the point of nearly interference on our long awaited chat.” She broke her gaze, turning towards the Junior Senator seated there as the awkward third wheel, yet still as engrossed as many an onlooker from beyond their private booth. “I think our business is concluded enough, wouldn’t you agree?” Her tone was not quite cold, but certainly absolute. Whatever they had been discussing prior, however far along those talks had been, would have to continue at a later point.

There came no argument from the young woman, her youth showing as she stood and proceeded out of the booth, past the newest guest, the brief glimpse of the two together enough to paint a picture of sisters. In a short moment, she had disappeared amongst the many within the Pub. Astrid could not help but find such capabilities a bit enviable; to be able to simply disappear. There were benefits of course towards such a nature, but the gains that came with exposure were far and away too enticing for her to simply look past or consider abandoning. Their surroundings being just one such an example of the perks that came with it; despite the density that enveloped the Swineherd Pub, within the booth they were in their own little world.

Her gaze lingered for a moment as she appreciated the woman in her figure, in the loose vulnerability that she carried. Her eyes caught her interest at first, but to see in her in her entirety under the faded light, there was all the more to enjoy. It almost left her surprised if not disappointed even, that such a woman had once upon a time been within Phantom Lord and the real likelihood that their paths never crossed if not for this this arranged meeting.

She leaned back, slightly sinking backwards, her eyes never tearing away, remaining upon her guest, a hint of a smirk on her face, but it was hard to say entirely under the dim light. “You're free to correct me, but I have to imagine that this is not quite how you expected this journey of yours to go when you first set out, was it? Had it not been for a simple letter, signed, sealed, address, yet never read, we likely would not be sitting here in each other’s company.” An arm extended, she gently grasped upon the stem of the glass, fingers dancing along it almost like that of spider legs as it moved towards her, “And now here we are, or perhaps more accurately, here you are. A once child of recently departed Iblis, having returned home.” A brief sip of her glass, enough such that the taste would grace her tongue, little more than that. “You will have to excuse my language. It’s become somewhat customary that finality be taken when talking about things of this sort. I’m sure you can understand the rationale. If you entertain the idea that things are not absolute, it poses the risk for delusional thinking.”

She pat her hands together in an exaggerated clapping motion, barely a sound resonating as it were consumed by the sounds throughout the Pub. Throughout, she had kept her eyes upon the woman, attentive, if not overly perceptive even. The only time where her focus shifted at all was when she briefly looked to masses behind the woman, a hand raised in the air, a signal to the waiter, held securely in his arms a sealed bottle, light from the Pub reflecting off the frosted surface. With wine on its way, she turned her attention back again to the woman, a smile on her face – though whether towards the wine or their little encounter being unclear.

“Silly me. I perhaps jumped the gun there. Heh. I suspect that you likely have questions. After all, I expect that when you first reached out, however long ago, you had anticipated hearing from your former Guild Master. As you can see, things have changed. Iblis, Oak Town, Phantom Lord… The Swineherd Pub even! But I do not wish for your homecoming to be sullied by recent developments. So, please, feel free to ask whatever may be on your mind…”

“And I will answer you as best as I can.” For her drink she reached again, though there was no pretending or entertaining a faux sip. Rather, there was a hearty one as she pulled the glass from her lips, its contents rather significantly drained. “Then we may discuss what you had to show.”

The sounds from throughout the Swineherd Pub picked up, excitement and enthusiasm over something or another outside of concern for the pair within the booth. Opposite they sat of one another, almost like that of two friends perhaps? No, too generous of a term to describe what they were. Acquaintances stood to be a more accurate assessment of them; neither of them having much of an idea towards one another. There was the one whom had arrived, boasting a confidence befitting of assumed royalty, as her letter seemed to indicate. Then there was Astrid Venier, the one whom sat in recline with the velvet of the seats pressed against her, a position of both comfort and luxury. Befitting of her, given what she was to Oak Town.

The twirling of her fingers was all that were necessary, hailing from an arm that lazily extended outwards along the velvet, a look of utter confidence and invulnerability presented. It was a show of power as much as it was simply the reality of what she was to Oak Town, the unspoken stranglehold and desperate reliance that the city and its people had invested into Astrid. Her eyes for the brief moment shifted off towards the waiter, ensuring that he had received the message, pushing through the crowd with the bottle in hand to which elicited the smallest of a smirk from beyond the corner of her lip.

Her gaze set back upon the woman with the purple hair. An exotic beauty, to say the least, and perhaps had circumstances been different, that their interaction had been first of a business transaction and simply that of a happenstance encounter, there were little doubt that she have this woman within her bed by evening, if not well sooner. Though, at the moment such tristes would have to wait; there were more urgent matters that Astrid presumed were to be discussed between the two of them.

But that did not mean that the duo had to immediately jump in. Neither had much finished their first glass of wine, let alone what remained within the current bottle, nor what was to come. An attribute of hers inherited from years of time spent with Lady Tsara, her dearly-missed mentor in Crocus, who taught her early and held true that discussions and matters that were not talked over wine were seldom worth remembering.

That mantra had proven true thus far.

The faintest of a chuckle emanated from Astrid’s lips at hearing the woman speak, her tone and visage having a seriousness to them that she could not help but appreciate. It was her show after all; this was perhaps the lone chance she would have to pitch to Astrid, so it was only fitting that she entered it with enough seriousness to sufficiently compensate for Astrid’s own calmness. “That’s a sentiment that I think more come to find true than they would have imagined. Even I find myself once holding that same sentiment, and, heh, well look at how fate has seemed to work there.”

It was a chance twist of fate that her encounter with Iblis, the only one that stemmed following their initial arrangement so long ago within Crocus, ended up with her succeeding him in what she had thought to be her final act, her departure outright from Phantom Lord. Barely a full day later, she had found herself tearing it down, the structure and framework of what Iblis had established and instead turned it into her own. Her reach grew, slowly but surely finalizing itself around Oak Town, turning it into what it was now.

That resume for most should have been sufficient to appreciate just how precious and equally precarious of a position it was to be seated across from her, whether within a setting like this or otherwise. So too, it only happened to make it the more appealing when she listened to the woman go off on her questions, throwing out what were fair critiques and questions. Why should she have believed that Astrid was who she said she was? Both operated on the basis that each other were whom they said they were, but there was no proof to either’s claim in reality.

She simply listened, taking in all of the questions, watching the woman’s expression closely. No fear, no sense of being intimidated, which Astrid couldn’t help but admire. It showed she had a spine at the bare minimum; a trait that had become progressively more lacking as she engaged with the many through her ‘official’ capacity. There was no movement on her part, not until she was certain that the woman was finished. Satisfied, she leaned forward, reaching for her glass, a hearty sip taken as she indulged in the wine, a delicious wine of banana, pineapple, and honey infused together. Hardly a recipe that would be common within a place like this Pub, let alone Oak, but it had been a delicacy within Crocus.

Of course, if she were to have moved from the heart of Fiore to Oak Town, then it was only right that she made sure such luxuries came with her.

As the glass parted from her lips, there was a smile on her face. An insidious one.

“When you arrived within Oak Town, be it carriage, or Gods forbid you walked the distance, by chance did you happen to see the roads? I wouldn’t be surprised if not, but if you had, you would have seen them new. No faults. No cracks. No imperfections. An ambitious, if not expensive project that was undertaken, but worth as I am concerned.” She leaned forward slightly, a low-effort wave of the hand intended to draw attention to the broader Swineherd Pub beyond their booth. “The Swineherd. Even just a year or two ago, this would be at best, a hovel. At worst, some poor attempt to bring in any traffic that may have had the misfortune to arrive in Oak Town, only to be robbed, or accosted, or worse even. But now, barely an individual can find themselves with space to move about. Engagement, joy, elation, all of it’s here, and none seem to detest it.”

“Even the wine. Take a look at it,” a tilt of the head towards the bottle now upon the table, a faint smoke pouring out whilst the faintest layer of condensation dripped along the sides of it. “Imported from Sin. Only a small few areas within Fiore so fortunate as to receive it. Most of it ends up in Crocus; a favorite of the dignitaries representing foreign affairs. Yet, Oak Town finds itself amongst those worthy.”

The tour concluded, she leaned back slightly, seated upright as opposed to the more casual stance that she had taken before, a greater seriousness to her demeanor than had been before. “Why does any of this matter? I'm sure you're wondering. Because first impressions are absolute. The quality of the roads, the happiness of the people, the breadth of its drink… For the discerning soul whom has never ventured into Oak Town, they would find it a far cry from the horrid reputation that once stained it.”

“When you approached, what was the first thing that came to your mind? That I may be the same one whom you suddenly find hard that ideal around? That I’m not actually the Lord, or should I say Lady of Phantom Lord now? Your words suggest I’m a politician first, and perhaps so. But is that not a bad thing?” She scoffed, “Your sentiment is far from unique. Truth be told, there’s seldom love amongst those within the Senate. It’s a bloodthirsty game, but just so happens that some know how to play it better than others. The young woman you saw earlier, just one of many whom find themselves in a position thanks to me. Thanks to me, they can relish in the successes that Oak Town now finds itself within.”

“But that doesn’t much answer your foremost question, now does it? Who am I? And why,” As Astrid spoke, she reached into an inner pocket of the jacket she was wearing, pulling out what appeared to be a small piece of parchment, “If I weren’t who I knew myself to be, who you doubt I am, why then would I have this?” Her hand extended forward along the table, palm lifting to reveal the letter that had been written, initially intended for Iblis. The one that had set forth their correspondence to have this meeting occur in the first place. “I am the one who has succeeded Iblis. The details surrounding are not important. A thousand voices can be raised to explain and a thousand different narratives would be given.”

“And I would beg to ask, if first impressions mattered so dearly as they do, what benefit then would it serve me to have that first association tied to being the successor of someone with as checkered of a history as Iblis? Especially when the alternative is the Fiorian politician who has brought Oak Town out of its dark ages and into a golden era?”

She smiled, a cold smile, a cruel one even. Her words were like that of a dagger, a sharp political tongue that remarkably echoed out truth, much against the typical perception of one in her profession. “Now, I have spoken quite a deal just there and I would assume that much of the doubt that at one point lingered should find itself cleared. It would be only appropriate then that you entertain a pair of my own questions then. First, to whom do I have the distinct pleasure of speaking with today. You know me, but a one-sided relationship seldom benefits both parties to its full potential. And then I would pose the question, what was it that prompted you to reach out to Iblis? Because whatever his involvement you may have sought, it will not be with him, but rather with The Mother instead.” Her eyes focused in, the cruel smile lingering still, remaining as the last bit of wine left within her glass disappeared behind sinister lips.