I am the hand, do I have orders m'lord?

[Guest]

The days had grown shorter than she cared to notice the last couple of days, a flurry of motion and new developments popping up left and right. Her application into the Royal Guard had gone through. And she had been chosen. Her, a soldier who remained on the lower rungs of the ladder at the moment. Her, an alchemist with less experience than she'd care to admit. It was true that she had suspected her real worth and potential would shine through, but even that situation had given her pause. Her parents didn't seem to doubt it. They had merely looked at her after she told them, and said, "You are the daughter of one of the prominent families in Creta. You excel at anything you put your mind to, and you love your country as much as anyone. Maybe more." Their expressions almost hinted at laughter behind it's kindness.

But this wasn't just some promotion post that you might get in the military. She was now.... what was it? 'Personal agent, soldier, bodyguard, and assistant to the King and Prime Minister of Creta, Lord Dietrich von Vermont.' Aka, the Lady of the Lake. She had received one of the highest honors she perceived at the moment. "Yes father? Yes I know I just got home from duty last week, but this-" She paused to listen to what he was saying, her ears perking up to the sounds of her siblings in the background all clamoring to speak. Or at least the twins were from the sound of it. "No, I have no idea when I'll be back. I may end up being moved into the capital for all I know. It's possible I'll be traveling back and forth, but I doubt it. I'll let you know when I know more, alright? Yes, I love you all too. Tell the twins to stay out of trouble, Julian to get out more, Mother not to work too many hours at the lab, and Tristan that I'll look at some possible ladies for him. He can't get me back here. Alright, I have to go. Take care." She then hung up and sighed heavily, running a hand through her bangs since her hair was pulled back in a ponytail per usual.

Turning back to the building that loomed ahead of her, she made her way inside and proceeded to report that she was there for debriefing and to report for duty. She was wearing one of her more formal outfits that was black. Her heels clicked on the floor as she moved through the halls till she reached where she was told to wait before meeting with their King and Prime Minister. Taking a deep breath, she stood for a few moments before she decided to sit down. Her deep blue eyes lowered to the circles tattooed into her flesh, remembering what else had been said in that letter. Weaponizing alchemy..... It's what had been required of her before, and she hadn't been allowed much time to explore other options just yet. The breaks she had received between shifts hadn't nearly been enough to satisfy the concentration and testing that she found necessary. So she had to become experienced at the very least, one thing for now. And it had served her well by far.

Raising her eyes as some people moved about, she brushed her bangs from her eyes, appearing as calm and unreadable as ever. There was a duffel bag laying next to her feet and out of the way, carrying what had been pretty much essential for traveling to London and it's White House. Folding her hands in her lap, she crossed her legs and patiently waited. She was a Duchamp, and she had to do that name proud.

((Edit: Sorry, just a point of reference to what she's wearing. ))

Spoiler:

[Guest]

“A Duchamp?” he ponders aloud, not minding the presence of his two bodyguards for the day. “Well, today shall certainly be an interesting one, gentlemen.” He turns to his two guards, nodding at Sullivan, while pausing for a moment at Oliver. “This will be a learning experience for you as well, Warrant Officer Blingworthy. Perhaps we can all discuss things over a nice lunch?” Glancing back at Sullivan, who confirms the lunch plans, Dietrich claps his hands together. “Excellent! Make sure it’s a hot meal, too. I’ve been having far too many cold ones this summer so far.” Dietrich walks over to a standing mirror, checking his outfit for the most minute flaws. Giving a sigh, never quite satisfied with his elegant wardrobe, he grabs his cane and begins his walk down the hall.

“Today makes an important day, gentlemen,” he says to the two. “The Royal Guard is growing, and with it, Creta – and its leader – is growing more secure. But also, we shall see where this particular candidate leads us.” Giving a quick look back at Oliver, he adds, “I’d like to mention, though, that although she might be superior in rank, I take it upon you to make sure she stands in line. After all, my word is law.”

Elegantly gliding down the stairs one step at a time, he stops at the bottom, planting the cane firmly on the ground. “Hm… It’s rare someone beats me to a meeting.” Taking a deep breath, and settling into his royal composure, he begins his slow advance towards the new recruit.

“Ah, Lady Vivian,” he says with a slight bow. “It is a pleasure to meet you. I figured that it would be impolite not to greet you myself, being such an interesting candidate and all. As you can see, I’ve brought along two friends, good Sir Sullivan and Sir Blingworthy,” he says, gesturing to the two respectively.

“Sullivan?” he asks, turning towards the man. “I’m sure the perimeter is fine, and, in addition, I appear to be unharmed. How about you go and relax? Perhaps get yourself a nice meal from the kitchen?” The soldier salutes and walks off without another word.

“I apologize if Sullivan is a little… quiet. He tends to be that way. Now, how about I let the good Blingworthy introduce himself?” He turns, stepping off to the side. After all, a proper introduction is the start of a healthy relationship.

[Guest]

Wearing his armored traditional wear, resting the back of his saber against his right shoulder as he maintained a rigid stance, Oliver was stone faced as always. If anything, his uniform was notably cleaner than the other guard standing next to him. Nodding from the comment of Dietrich's over this being a learning experience. And afterwards his mind ponders upon the outfit Dietrich donned. Perhaps it is as expensive as all royal wardrobe? That would perhaps be a definite.

"As you wish, your highness." Oliver once more nods, so he has someone to introduce to the etiquette, the numerous rules and regulations of the Royal Guards eh?

Perhaps that person was younger in years? One thing for sure was that all he heard of this was the new person in questioning was a Duchamp. A nobility, a high and prestigious one at that. From the stories he heard, they were savants in the field of whichever it was they wished conquest in. From the intrigues of the court all the way to common practices. They were meant to be exemplary in that regard. Just another fine family of the realm.

Following along to Dietrich's right as Sullivan mirrors to the left. Mechanically taking up the pace in the same formation as one another, one would believe they have choreographed their steps to show little differences in their march. Stopping their pace as Dietrich has stopped his. But like Dietrich, Oliver had founded himself rather surprised as well someone had beaten the rather trivial and prim lord of his to a meeting. A positive sign that this person before him was a Duchamp. And one of the opposite gender as well.

This was rare. Oliver is rarely surprised.

That's novel on another note. Typically Oliver doesn't see many females around around in the Royal Guards. She must've been really worthy to pull through.

Nodding as he does towards the introduction of being one known as 'Sir Oliver', he eyed the new recruit. Appraising her worth. Inspecting and seeing how she was like. And once Sullivan removed himself, Oliver was amused at how well built she was.

Though his amusement snapped upon Dietrich's queue for Oliver to introduce himself. Stepping forward, he sheathes the sword. There was no need to have it out and it was customary to not wave one's weapon at a visitor. Unstrapping his helmet as he held it to his left, Oliver, stone-faced as always, extends his hand to shake Vivian's.

"Warrant Officer Oliver Archibald Saint James Stuart Blingworthy," He starts off, his Calish accent distinct yet subtle, "Royal Guard of his Highness. I welcome you as a brother in arms in protection of his Majesty, and the realm."

[Guest]

Upon hearing the sound of footsteps, Vivian rose and saluted the King and his men, standing stark still until it was clear that she could relax. As Dietrich began to approach and speak, she cross her right fist over her chest so that it was positioned over her heart as she then bowed to him as well. It was a sign that he held her utmost loyalty to him and a sign of respect, straightening as her eyes were the last thing to raise, looking up to her king. The prime minister of their country.... Her superior. And now her charge if one really wanted to place such a term upon the situation. "A pleasure sir." She spoke, her voice soft yet firm. Not necessarily curt or rude, just firm. Her arms now rested at her side, her body remaining mostly tense as it had been trained when their CO stood before them.

Upon the mention of his two guards, her blue depths fell to each in turn, taking them in their entirety quickly. She nodded to them as they were introduced, sensing them doing the same to her. Especially the Warrant Officer. She knew how unusual her situation was, but it was also a matter of pride for her. She had proved herself equal to those in her command, and above, earning her rank of 1st Lieutenant. And now she had earned this as well. She observed as Sullivan was dismissed, shaking her head slightly as Dietrich apologized for the mans behavior. "Quite alright sir." She murmured, allowing herself to relax a little bit so she stood a bit more "normally" if one could say that.

Ah, so this one was to be her fellow guardsman? His training shone through, as did his worth and it pleased her to see such things. Even kept his uniform in excellent repair. She had seen some men who lacked discipline with their clothes and it was always somehow... disappointing. She took his hand once it was offered, her grip strong and yet gentle. Yet another demonstration of the strange balance that she maintained within herself. Perhaps maintained was not the best word since it was something that came naturally to her.

Inwardly, an eyebrow raised at his accent, explaining a little more about himself. She had met surprisingly few with the Calish accent, but she never expected to anyways. They generally wanted to stay out of the wars. "First Lieutenant Vivian Olivia Duchamp, recent addition to the Royal Guard." The corners of her mouth raised into the slightest of smiles, her expression still remaining rather impassive otherwise. "Thank you Warrant Officer, it's an honor to be here." Some might consider the similarity of her middle name and his to be a point of amusement, particularly because sometimes she went as her middle name, but that was a moot point to her.

As she withdrew her hand, her attention returned to the king, brushing her bangs aside once more. "So, what is standard protocol my liege? Am I debriefed and then put to duty, or do I 'jump right in' persay?" She asked, knowing what he had told her her duties were, but she knew no real specifics pertaining to it. The temptation to glance between her superior and her comrade, but she resisted it and kept her gaze calmly upon their monarch, her long, dark hair swishing as had turned her head slightly.

[Guest]

He smirked as the two introduced themselves so… formally. Still, it was to be expected. No less from his Royal Guard, or else they weren’t fit for duty. Still, sometimes he threw them a curveball, or tried to, at least. His chances of throwing Blingworthy off guard was slim, but Duchamp?

”Actually, I was considering a nice meal before we get down to what’s necessary. I’m afraid that my mortal form has grown weak, and that I require some sustenance.” Taping his cane on the ground twice, he gives a smile. “Yes, a meal is in order. And you two shall be my distinguished guests!” He spins around to face the opposite direction, and begins a slow walk forward. “Perhaps we shall explore what it means to be a Royal Guard together, Sir Blingworthy and Lady Duchamp?”[/color] With a slight spring to his step, he starts heading off, knowing exactly where to go.

“Lunch is a bit of a surprise today, but it’ll be a hot meal, that much I know,” he explains to the two. “It’ll be some time still before the meal is ready, but until then, we can relax in the study.”

Passing door after door, he eventually finds one, identical to all the others, but unique in its own way nonetheless. Opening the door, he reveals his personal study, with bookshelves lining the walls, filled with all kinds of books in all kinds of languages. ”Please, take a seat you two.” He motions to a set of five rather ornate but comfortable looking chairs by a lit fireplace. ”If you care for a drink of any kind,” he adds, pointing to a well-dressed man in the corner behind a bar, ”simply ask Chaucer over there. He’s my favorite bartender. I take him to every country I go to.”

Striding over to one of the seats, he sits down, enjoying the smell of the fireplace. ”Now, what would be an appropriate topic to discuss? Or should we keep things formal for the time being?”

[Guest]

Oliver raised and lowered his hand. Symbolizing what one may call a "handshake". A curious human way of interaction to feel another's hands, it was just once anyways. He felt her grip, it was controlled notably. As if it had a moderation. He can already tell she'd make a fine Royal Guard and a fine addition to the crew... amongst other things. Though she is certainly courteous. It was most refreshing... than those typical town gals one would find off duty. TOOTSWEET he best be getting to attend to the Monarch.

Though he didn't show much reaction to the similar yet more feminine last name of his peer. Stone-faced as always. Letting go of her hand as he maintained his same rigid stance he always assumes. Rather intrigued by the prospect that he is treated above his station, that he was treated beyond being a statue with a gun. Beyond being treated as a Royal Guard. An upgraded position of Guard, otherwise something that is not given much credit for the risks and danger, along with the associated hazards.

Nodding once more, "Sire." 'Twas his only response. Inclining himself henceforth thereof to once again assume the position to Dietrich's right, and so unto the study. After layers upon layers were penetrated, also called moving through doorways. It was unfitting to wear armor hence the advantage Vivian would find herself as she lacks the protective ornamental wear, rather wearing what one may call tight, or less baggy appropriately and more accurately.

Separating from following Dietrich. Placing his helmet upon a coat stand's "head" holder, as he unlatches his armor and as well merely puts it on the T-shaped cross of the stand, the Calesman sat upon a seat to his Highness's right. Letting the aroma of the fireplace accent his nostrils, vacantly gazing in front of him. But truthfully he has a good peripheral vision to catch in what is around him whilst not looking upon the King himself.

"..." He was hoping for the Duchamp to start up something. Yeah, he had nothing in mind to discuss, otherwise it'd be duty this, duty that. Which perhaps might bore his Lord. Yeah, Oliver is aware he has the personality of a wet noodle at times.

[Guest]

His quotation of a movie brought a faint smirk to her lips, allowing it to show as Vivian steadily was getting a feel for the situation at hand. So a meal with the king.... and as his guests no less! This certainly was an auspicious day indeed. She was rather glad that she had decided to wear casual clothes as opposed to a uniform. "Thank you sire." She murmured as she picked up her duffel bag and slid it over one shoulder, continuing to stand with perfect posture. Her walk was graceful rather than rigid, but her military training still peeked through. "Indeed. A conversation over food is generally a pleasant thing." She mused aloud, her long legs allowing her to easily keep up with the two men.

Her blue eyes did glance about the various halls and rooms they passed, listening to Dietrich as she took in her surroundings. If she was to be here often, she needed to get some sort of sense of how the building was laid out. "Ah, most excellent." The only other thing she had eaten was a sandwich from her train ride to London, and well... something hot sounded just perfect at the moment.

Slowing as they seemed to approach their destination, Vivian's eyebrow raised ever so slightly as she saw shelf after shelf of books. Some she recognized to be in other languages, and others she could tell were in Amestrian. Stepping into the room, she seemed to slow and take her time moving to the chairs by the fireplace, thinking of her own home in relation to this. No, it didn't quite compare. Her bag slid slowly off of her shoulder and came to rest upon the floor softly, her eyes turning to the bar and the man behind it. Hmm.... since they were his guests that meant she was off-duty.... right? A small drink couldn't hurt. "Thank you for the offer m'lord." Her heeled boots thudded softly on the floor, approaching said bar. "A gin and tonic if you please." She murmured, receiving her drink moments later.

Turning slightly as Dietrich posed the question, she thank Chaucer as he handed her the glass, taking a small sip as she returned to the chair. Ah... it was perfect. "I can see why you take him with you." She smiled softly, sitting down in the chair next to her bag as she rolled over what might be a topic of interest.

Glancing to Oliver, she noticed how he said nothing, guessing it either meant he wasn't sure or he was remaining formal for the moment. "Formality is entirely your choice sir, though if we are your guests then perhaps it should be left aside. It will return once we are your guards again." She began, her gaze falling upon their king. "Mayhaps we might discuss what expectations I should expect as a Royal Guard? My duties, the dress, and such. Forewarned is forearmed some say." Vivian was being careful not to be too pushy about the subject, but at the same time she wanted to know what she would be doing. After all, even though being a soldier was part of a guards duty, there was much more to it than just that. Lifting the glass to her lips once more, she took another sip, the ice clinking in the glass softly.

[Guest]

”A glass of wine if you wouldn’t mind, Chaucer. The 1914 sounds splendid at the moment.” Glancing back and forth between Oliver and Vivian, he can’t help but note the differences. Vivian, although refined, has yet to be trained in being a Royal Guard, whereas Oliver is stiff as a board, stoic, unmoving, just like one should. He couldn’t blame him for keeping quiet, though.

He watches as Chaucer hands Vivian her drink, and waits patiently for his own. ”We were in Amestris not that long ago, and the person I was meeting seemed to be equally impressed.” He gives Chaucer a nod and a slight smile as the bartender hands him his wine, holding the stem by little more than his thumb and middle finger, his pinky extended out slightly.

After taking a sip, he smirks, pondering over the right wording, as to not offend Vivian. “I see you take your new job seriously,” he says, swirling the drink in its glass. ”Your duties are rather simple. You are simply tasked with keeping the regal ruler of this great nation alive. Protecting my life comes first, and the country second. You are loyal to the throne, and answer to no one but me.”

Taking another sip of his wine, he thinks over his next words carefully. ”The relationship with the ruling king or queen and the Royal Guard has been established over several centuries. As you might know, a sort of contract is made whenever someone new takes over the throne, and has to be done so with each new ruler. I have been lucky enough to receive the full support of the Royal Guard, and, in return, I give you all nothing but the best Creta, and the world, has to offer.” Putting his glass down on a nearby table, he adds, ”Mind you, you are technically supposed to guard the royal bloodline as well, but I’m afraid that’s all a tad bit… complicated at the moment, so let’s not worry about that, shall we?”

He pauses for a moment, remembering Vivian’s original question. ”Perhaps Sir Blingworthy would like to fill you in on some things?” he asks, looking over at Oliver. ”If you don’t mind, of course. And please, relax a little, if you’d like.”

[Guest]

There has been much motioning and drinking around the presence of Oliver as he abstained from indulging into the influence of alcohol at the moment. He was not off duty yet. And as such, does not have the luxury of getting drunk, or intoxicated. Who knows? A serial streaking college student might burst into the white house. It has been a strange phenomenon lately as they are doing this under the pretext of patriotism... having the Cretan flag painted over them and all.

But nonetheless he shifted his glance, left and right. From Vivian to Dietrich and vice versa. Noting and listening to the conversations as thoughts flow in through Oliver's mind, creative if not absurd as they are. The mantra of one known as the valley keeps raising to mind. Just a quint way of thinking of a cleavage that the other Guard in his presence has taken to adorn to in her outfit... how could that be formal? Why did she wear that of all things? This is just unfair. But it works wonders on staving off what boredom remained in Oliver's mind.

She is attractive definitely... but notably Royal Guard training is STRONGER.

His thinking moments were briefly broken when he was enticed into an allure that one may leave as somewhat light headed. Now focusing sharply unto his required task as his name spur him into attention. Although he hadn't maintained or given off a mannerism of being aloof or wondering about something else entirely.

"As you command, your Highness." He glanced over to Vivian, relaxation was optional for the most part, and it was more relaxing anyways the fact he got to sit down after walking for long time spent, "Miss Duchamp, your duties are to the reigning Monarch in our presence, to protect him with our life as he is our nation's lifeblood, and in himself, the nation itself. To perform our duties to the capital T, and to do so exceptionally."

A pause followed, he would let her sink this information sink into the green recruit, "And finally, your uniform will be worn similar to the one I wear... although I will acquint you to how we'll function, our procedures, and what to wear depending on the situation. It will be at our barracks along with our instructions."

[Guest]

Mmmm wine.... a fine choice indeed. But that was far from the point at the moment. Right now, the matter at hand was her new job. Her gaze remained upon Dietrich as he explained, nodding at the fact of her seriousness upon the matter. It was just that though, a serious matter. From the sounds of it, the only thing that had changed was the focus of her energies from the country to the king. Hardly surprising, but still good to know. Clarification was always good, right?

Sitting up a little straighter, the ice in her glass clinked softly once more as she brought it up to her lips, the cool liquid rolling down her throat in a most pleasant way. Aye... she recalled such things from when she had been in school, shifting slightly in her chair so she was a bit more comfortable. Inwardly an eyebrow did raise at the sound of complications, but she didn't dare openly show it. Instead, she appeared as attentive as she had been, nodding at his pass over the subject. Obviously it caused him discomfort, so no need to dwell upon it.

Vivian remained quiet as her gaze shifted to her fellow Guard, tilting her head slightly as she regarded him once more. He was the epitome of a Royal Guard, if not but a bit.... uptight. Not necessarily a bad thing, she realized that the job required it. After all, the military had contained similar demands as well. Well.... at least partially. Again, beside the point. "Understood." She murmured, finally speaking since she had fallen so quiet. Alright, clear enough. Now it was just a matter of learning regulations, the actual training, and then actual practice. Brushing her bangs from her eyes once more, she gathered them behind her ears, sipping at her G&T.

Her eyes traveled over his uniform as he answered her question about the dress, making a few notes to herself, her blue eyes soon meeting Oliver's as she took in what he said. "Very good. Thank you both for clarification on this matter." She bowed her head respectfully to them, straightening up as she tried to think of any other questions that she had. Right now it was mostly a matter of receiving her training and whatnot. Though.... what of her alchemy? Her eyes glanced down to the droplets of condensation upon her glass, the properties of it running through her mind as she grew a bit thoughtful. "Will it be a problem if I continue research for my alchemy?" She asked as she sipped her drink once more, knowing at this point it was mostly ice and what was left at the bottom. She knew her free time was going to be severely restricted now so she wouldn't be able to experiment as much as she would have otherwise, but her duties were certainly more important than it. Placing her glass down on a coaster nearby, she briefly glanced to the circles tattooed onto the palms of her hands, gleaming with moisture from the glass. They were a slightly dark shade of blue, weaving intricately amongst itself like a snowflake. Folding her hands together, she didn't look at the ones on the top of her hand, raising her gaze to the two men that she was now tied to.

[Guest]

Dietrich nodded at Oliver, appreciating the man’s seriousness sin the situation. He was knowledgeable, and seemed to know more than enough about the service he had joined.

”Might I add, Miss Dachump, that you will be meeting with a tailor soon to get your measurements. Every uniform is hand-measured and –crafted to ensure the best possible fit for all of our soldiers, and the Royal Guards are no exception.”

Hearing her question, he pauses, looking down at her hands. He forgot that little detail. Lifting his glass and taking another sip of wine, be sighs. “Lady Dachump, I’ll admit that I do not personally support the militarization of alchemy,” he explains in a serious tone. “I’d rather see alchemy being used as a constructive tool, something to build nations and provide the people with what they need.” He swirls the liquid around in his glass, watching it move and shift. “But,” he adds a moment later, “I cannot deny its power as a weapon, the potential it holds to shorten combat engagements, and, thus, hopefully lowering casualties. So, since accepting you, I’ve found myself in a bit of a conundrum.”

Resting the glass back down on the table, his raps his fingers against the crimson orb atop his cane. ”By all means, I encourage you to improve upon your alchemy. Do with it what you see fit. I’ll ensure that you have the proper time to do so, if you find yourself requiring it. But, in return, I’ll be keeping a close eye on you. I’m afraid that some of the Amestrians have brought me to fear what happens when a single individual holds as much power as some of them do. They go around, like a police force, defying laws for what they consider the ‘greater good.’” He shakes his head at the thought. ”But I digress. You are more than encouraged to delve deeper into your interested, Lady Dachump, though I might create a new organization to better handle individuals of your breed of soldier.”

[Guest]

Taking upon her question of alchemy as he contemplated, Oliver thought of it. It was certainly a bother just as the valley that lay where the torso is meant, the cleavage, as well. But the uniform oughta take care of that distraction. Bless the tailor whomever made these modest clothing and may a few cups be raised to that person, as Oliver would think of.

Though as Oliver was about to contemplate and produce an answer, the monarch handled it for him. Most punctual as ever, and proving ever so much that he indeed takes care of things. Listening intently to every word that comes out of Dietrich's lips... or more accurately, just for the sentence and making up the meaning out of all of them. At the same time, Oliver was thinking of a way to take one of the alcohol from here at a point and stash it over at his personal inventory at the barracks. Drink it maybe when he is off duty.

Gazing at Dietrich's drink and his mannerism in particular. Looks like Dietrich didn't seem to be expecting this and it slipped off his mind. Ah well, it was just fortunate Duchamp here happened to bring it up anyways. And again... he was almost in a bind. It seems like there are a lot of questions that don't typically exist in Royal Guard's procedures brought up. Such as alchemical practices and the views upon it. Personal views exist but not organizational views. Crap, one of the few things he does not know was asked, but thankfully was handled by these timely interventions. He knows after he retires from the Royal Guards, he will most definitely not be a teacher for his career next up. Probably in a couple of years, give or take.

So for now he just looked back and forth... again, from Dietrich to Duchamp. Looking at her after Dietrich finished as he expected a response. At least one to listen to as he isn't really the proprietor of questions. And after that, who knows? He might be lucky enough to have an opportunity to observe the fine collection of wines and whiskey to take... when it isn't in his Lord's presence of course. He would frown upon that probably.

[Guest]

A tailor hm? Well well, a most pleasant surprise. Though Vivian wondered if she should be surprised considering the king had just said that he made sure to take care of his Guards with the best that could be offered. Still, an unexpected pleasantry nonetheless. "Ah, very good sir." It also meant she didn't have to worry about any... awkward... tugs or creases here and there. Rather annoying she had to say.

But that was a trifling matter, now onto the real question. Aye, nowadays it could be hard to find alchemists that weren't looking into new ways to combat one another for their countries. Having the upper hand in war, or finding ways to gain it, seemed to take precedence. She nodded slowly as she thought over what he would use alchemy for, her eyes lowering for the moment. And then the wheels began to turn in her head, inwardly shaking her head before she got lost in the making of science. Her eyes raised back up to Dietrich, leaning forward as her legs uncrossed, resting her elbows upon her knees. Her hands folded together, almost debating speaking then but she decided against it as he rapped his fingers against the top of his cane.

She continued to listen to her king attentively, relieved to find that she would be allowed to pursue her research and better herself. He'd even give her time to do so? Her eyes widened a little at that, the reaction too fast for her to keep it from showing. She sat up a little bit, her hands unclasping slightly before merely adjusting how they were. Regaining her calm composure, Vivian nodded one more time in understanding. Yes.... Amestris did have plenty of alchemists, they sort of seemed to crawl out of the wetwork there. She couldn't blame the king for his concerns. Though now she hoped that perhaps she could abate them since she knew there was no way she would ever do that. Not unless she was under orders.

Taking one more moment to gather her thoughts and allow for his words to sink in, she touched her index fingers to her lips before her hands lowered and she straightened up once more. "Thank you sir." She began, reaching for her glass to finish it off. The ice clinked one last time as she placed it back down, glancing from Oliver to Dietrich. "I do not mind if you keep a close eye, for I do understand your concern. I promise I shall not increase it." Her hands folded as she licked her lips, glancing to the tattoos on the top of her hands now. "At the moment my abilities are more offensive than not, but if applied correctly could used as you would prefer them to be. Constructive." Sighing lightly, she knew where she had already begun her current research, knowing it was best not to bore them with it. So instead, she chose to comment on his idea. "A Cretan organization for alchemists would certainly be a sight. Perhaps there could be a branch that performs alchemy that will purely benefit the nation by aiding it's people in various ways." She mused both aloud, and yet to herself. No, she was allowing her mind to digress again.

Lowering her gaze once more, she took a moment to shake the thoughts from her mind before glancing between the two men once more, cocking her head to the side ever so slightly. "Are there any questions that you have of me sir? Warrant Officer?" It had occurred to her that they might, and since she was pretty much out of questions it fit as a topic adjustment of sorts. Granted, she had no idea what sort of things they might ask which could cause concern, but she wasn't too worried.

[Guest]

Dietrich nods at Vivian. There was intelligence behind what she said, or at least she knew how to appeal to him on this matter. Tricky, this sort of situation…

“I’m afraid that I might need your alchemy to be used in a more… militaristic manner, so please, by all means, continue developing it as such if it pleases you.” He swirls his wine, trying to come to terms with himself on this matter. “If you develop something that will benefit the people, then, by all means, I’d be more than happy to compensate you if you’d be willing to publish the necessary materials on it.” He nodded his head, thinking to himself. Surely, rewarding the civil use of alchemy would be needed. The carrot, as opposed to the stick.

Tapping his cane on the floor, he says, “I’ll be in need of your expertise sometime in the near future, if you don’t mind, Lady Dachump. While I’m skilled at many things, I’m afraid alchemy is not one of them. Would you be opposed to that?”

Looking over at Oliver, he adds, “Actually, Sir Blingworthy, what are your thoughts of an alchemist joining your ranks?”

[Guest]

Alchemy. Oliver sees it as nothing more than an inherent weakness within another, that without it, if one day it just disappeared, what are the capabilities of those without the conveniences of it? Very little compared to those that profess in the natural martial arts that trains one's body in the many physical and perceptive endeavors, as well as mind over matter. That these thoughts would make Blingworthy feel most confident as he would listen through Duchamp's explanations of things.

Well, at least she has a nice rack to make it up for alchemy should she lose it. Pondering upon many possibilities, to stave off boredom once more, Oliver was once again asked for his opinion. Strange... this was the most times in his entire Royal Guard career he was actually asked for his opinions. But he shall indulge his Highness, or his Highness might be flustered, or might not be.

He gave a glance to Dietrich, stone-faced as always that gave no hint of his emotions that seems to be running on highly on the side of amused dabbling. Perhaps he can answer Duchamp's earlier question in the same bout as his Lord's.

"I have no objections your Highness, but a question." He passes along a gaze over to Vivian, "Would her Alchemy weaken her martial prowess? As she has a major focus that may neglect the other fields of combat."

[Guest]

Ah yes, of course. Initially it fit the more militaristic style so she didn't have to worry about that. Excellent. Vivian merely tilted her head slightly as she was in thought and nodded slowly in both understanding, and agreement. Her eyes did dart to her lord and she could clearly see how it was difficult for him to be comfortable saying such things and again, she could not blame him. "I would be more than to happy to publish should I do develop something." She murmured softly, sitting up a bit straighter. She couldn't slouch, that was lazy. Although it was a relaxed motion, no. Not now. She could do that later at home if she truly chose to. Out of the corner of her eye, Vivian was also observing Oliver, wondering what his take on alchemy was. Well..... he was as a Royal Guard should be, completely unreadable.

As Dietrich began to speak upon requiring her talents, her gaze returned to him and nodded once more. "Nay, I will gladly aid you sire if you need my knowledge or services." He was her king, why would she refuse him? She was his shield, and his hand should he need her to be. In some corner of her mind, she did realize how some could probably twist this logic, or phrasing for that matter, for... other meanings but that wasn't important right now. It did make her a little curious as to what this matter was, but she was sure that she would be debriefed when it was necessary to be.

Oh, well, there you go. Guess she would find out just what Oliver-- Vivian grew rather still. --thought. Her expression remained calm, poised, and pleasant even though within she felt herself twitch. Leaning slowly back in her chair, she gained a rather warm smile though her eyes briefly gleamed rather icily as she looked at him, her fingertips touching together. "It would not Warrant Officer. I refuse to allow it to. Duty always comes before such matters." She answered with the calmness that had been ingrained into her as a lady since she was a child. Lowering her gaze, she bowed her head slightly to Dietrich, "Forgive me if I have spoken out of turn." It was meant towards everyone since she had allowed her emotions to get the better of her even if it had not seemed as such to them. She grew quiet, allowing for the men to speak since she was a little afraid to lest she say something unnecessary that would strain the atmosphere.

[Reila Tsukino]

[Bump!]

[Guest]

”Your acceptance in the Royal Guards brings up many questions, Lady Duchamp, as you are the first alchemist to join their ranks. Although I encourage you to perform to the best of your abilities, I’m afraid that there have to be reasonable limits on expectations for you.” Looking between the two, he thinks for a moment. ”What we need for you is not a lower bar, but a separate bar set to an equal standard, as we can’t have you performing well in relation to low standards. So, perhaps we should start out a bit lighter in the standard training and skills, and add on more as you can handle them?

“Knowledge to properly maintain and effectively use your primary firearm will be required, and you’ll be expected to perform like any other Royal Guard. This will go for your sidearm and sword of choice as well. Beyond that, I expect you to be working on your alchemy, improving it, modifying it, and so on. I’d personally like to see you keep up with your training in other armaments at your disposal, but do so when you have sufficient spare time. Alchemy before non-essentials.” Taking an elegant sip of wine, he glances over to Oliver, trying to gauge his reaction. Vivian was a delicate situation, but a potentially powerful tool in Creta’s arsenal. Failure to hold her to equal standards would prove disasterous for her, and possibly even himself. ”Does that sound fair?” he asks after a few moments.

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