"To know the game, or to know the competitors?" Bilera asks with interest. It's an insightful question designed to clarify Tranquillina's precise meaning.
This question causes Tranquillina to turn and look at Bilera, hopefully without displaying her surprise. The unsolicited question is meant to engage her thinking, which shows that Bilera at least has respect for her thought process (whether that respect is friendly or threatening is, of course, another matter). Her social instincts now triggered, she decides to be forthcoming. "My intended meaning was that I am not familiar with the competitors here - save Marcus, about whom I know a little bit. However, the parameters of the game would be well within my capacity to apprehend, but, admittedly, I have not really taken the time to do so. Preparations for this meeting, I suppose." She looks around the crowd for a moment before giving up the search as fruitless. "For one of the bouts, Rose ex Tremere was explaining to me what was transpiring. It helped, a little bit."
Bilera chuckles a bit, but it's an insulting and condescending chuckle. "I think your mater would be disappointed." Bilera doesn't mince words and continue on, twisting the knife. "Understanding the culture of the Tribunal is important. These contests are as much a part of the culture as the rules governing vis ownership. It is House Tytalus's gift to the Tribunal, you might say. And you've lived here in this Tribunal how long now?" Bilera asks the question but her tone suggests that she knows exactly how long Tranquillina has been in the Tribunal. "And you still haven't learned this simple fact?" She chuckles a bit, much as the chuckle before. "My dear, you should be more careful with your words and actions in the future. You'll risk finding yourself in a most compromising position. Understanding the stakes of the game should be your first, and highest priority." Bilera finally looks Tranquillina, full, and direct eye contact is established, and she smiles, but it is a cold smile, "Perhaps when your mater is finished with her present assignment she can fill some gaps in your education."
Appearing to change the subject, "You weren't Extempora's apprentice by any chance, were you?" Tranquillina knows that Extempora was the Trianomae maga who uncovered a lot of what was going on with the Shadow Flambeau in Iberia. She was killed after she was discovered she sacrificed herself in an effort to preserve her apprentice who managed to evade the Shadow Flambeau and return with some vital information which led to their defeat. Bilera's question is asked in the tone of voice that suggests she already knows the answer and that the question isn't really a question, but perhaps a warning.
Tranquillina begins to seethe as the multiple disparagements strike home. She should be cautious with her response to this powerful member of an opposing House, particularly in public; but she can't refrain from biting back. "You seem a bit lacking with your information about my Hermetic lineage, sodalis. Embarrassingly so, some might say. Rather ironic even, coming in the same breath as an admonition to careful words." Her teeth grind together at the unconscious memories of her first failed apprenticeship.
"You assert that this Dimicatio is Tytalus's gift to the Tribunal. But that House gives no gifts. They expend much energy making it appear that they benefit the Order, but in the end, they care only about the exertion of power over others. Power to cling to, above all else, above even the Code. Those are the true stakes of the game." She locks eyes with Bilera, almost shivering with anger. "But I wager this is a philosophy of which you already have an intimate understanding. Prima."
"Well, I can see I am well enough informed." Turning Tranquillina's observations back onto her, twisting her words deeper into Tranquillina's oversensitive psyche.
She laughs long and loudly, as if Tranquillina has made a wonderful joke, "Well, it was the Tytalus who introduced the competition, in general to the Tribunal. It was, of course, our House that was largely responsible for enshrining it within the Tribunal's Peripheral Code." She pauses, "It is ever our Duty to find the best customs and to make them better, and sanction them with legal opinion." She watches the competition for a bit, "Marcus likes to think he's so clever, beating the Flambeau at their own competition. And while they are responsible to the competition, the Tytalus unwittingly gave Us this gift, the idea of competing for scarce resources. Tytalus think of the individual, while those outside their Houses think of the Order in general. What is best for the Order, that is is Our primary concern. That is our philosophy. Although Marcus's actions earlier in the Tribunal were something of a surprise. We won't be similarly surprised again." As she says that, her voice cracks just a bit. She was watching Marcus, who was just declared winner of the Dimicatio, but he apparently didn't cast a spell. "Yes. Yes, I think Marcus underestimates Us."
"I enjoyed our chat. Enjoy the rest of the games. We have certain arrangements to make as a result of recent events. Give my compliments to Marcus, indeed all of Mons Electi." She smiles warmly and then is gone before Tranquillina can respond.
[strike]FAST CAST PILUM OF FIRE -[/strike] 
Tranquillina opens her mouth again to retort, but to no avail - Bilera is nowhere to be seen. She shuts her eyes, trying to think; the clamor of the Dimicatio audience is too much. She angrily bespells her own ears to swell internally, stopping them up against noise from outside her own head. ((MuCo base 2, at worst Part +1, Concentration +1 = level 4; she can spont that non-fatiguingly.)) The encounter with Bilera was maddening: the slippery maga could switch instantly between the illusion of amiability and the reality of scorn, disorienting Tranquillina tremendously. She tries to breathe deeply, tries to slow her beating heart and calm her thoughts; but the voices inside her cannot be silenced by a simple spell. After a fruitless minute or so, she lets the spell lapse, and the restoration of the chaotic din around her makes her wince.
Unclosing her eyes, she gazes in confusion at the Dimicatio arena: she was expecting the match to begin, but apparently it is all over. "Taigh na galla, what just happened?" she exclaims harshly to whomever might be nearby.
"She shat all over you is what just happened", comes a gravelly voice from somewhere around Tranquillina's knee, speaking Scots Gaelic. "If you'll forgive the uncouth observation."
A tiny and remarkably ugly little man wearing jester's garb flashes a sympathetic smile up at the Bonisagus. "Whatever possessed you to bandy words with Bitchlera anyway? She didn't get where she is by being easy to read." He switches his gaze to where the Prima disappeared to, frowning angrily, and then looks up at Tranquillina again, tapping the chair next to her. "This seat taken?"
((Bilera in this saga is not too dissimilar from Imelda Staunton's portrayl of Delores Umbridge...))
(( I kinda gathered. Which makes Stultus' impromptu nickname for her all the more apropos. Sorry, I'm kinda proud of that one. 
))
Tranquillina is startled to hear her native tongue spoken, particularly after she just swore in it (not that this speaker would presumably mind, given his choice of language). She looks all around before finding the source of the voice, then lengthily blinks twice, the blinks probably prolonged due to her fatigue. "Er, I guess not," she begins, looking around again for Bilera but finding no sign - "feel free."
"Are ye here from Loch Leglean?" she asks the strange jester, staying with Gaelic. "And I, ah, I meant what happened in the Dimicatio. Did Marcus win by forfeit?"
The jester sets his hands on the chair seat, hops up, and hauls himself into the chair with a pained grunt he can't quite suppress. "Marcus? That'd be the crippled fellow? I wasn't paying all that much attention, but it didn't look like a forfeit. Looks like he did something exceedingly subtle." He chuckles approvingly. "Beating the Flambeau at their own game. Quite, quite nicely done."
He settles in the chair, his feet dangling above the ground. "And to answer your earlier question -- no, I'm not here from Loch Leglean. At least not lately. I'm technically from Normandy, but sans Covenant at the moment. Looking for a new place to hang my hat, as a matter of fact." One finger flicks the bells on his jester's hat, setting them to ringing gently. "It's a large hat, as you can see. Requires a bit of hanging."
Tranquillina's mouth opens, but fortunately she stops short of saying what popped into her mind, which was Are you saying you're a magus? As it happens she simply looks a bit agape and dim for a moment.
Finally she regains her manners: "I am Tranquillina Bonisagi. One of the hosts, I suppose, being a member of this covenant of Mons Electi." Several questions go through her mind, but they have to do with the exchange with Bilera (which she's trying to forget), the Dimicatio (to which he already admitted not paying attention), and the strange dwarf's identity and vocation, so they all end up being rejected. "Ergo, I hope you have had a comfortable stay at this Tribunal," she finishes underwhelmingly and after a pause.
Stultus watches as Tranquillina's jaw drops, inwardly amused. He's seen that expression before.
"My stay has been quite comfortable, thank you." He considers Tranquillina, and comes to the rapid conclusion that as twitchy as she is, the best course of action here is one that's anathema to any right-thinking Tytalus. Namely, full disclosure. Because if he omits certain salient facts and she finds them out later...
The jester's poppet wriggles in his arms and squeaks something up at him, of which Tranquillina can probably make out something about "... have your guts for garters and your crank for a doorknob!" Stultus listens, nodding, and then looks up. " it is a true pleasure to meet you, Tranquillina of Bonisagus. However, the introduction is superfluous, since I knew who you were. That is why I sought you out. My poppet, who is much wiser than I, points out that I thereby have the advantage of you, and I should fix that, post-haste."
He inclines his head. "My name is Stultus Maximus, of House Tytalus. Filius Cumhachd."
(( Gerg, I am going to do something awful here and assume a certain physical reaction on Tranquillina's part. If that's a problem let me know and I'll edit.))
Hearing the quick indrawn breath and seeing the Bonisagus' eyes go wide, he leans back in his chair and smiles placatingly, holding up empty hands, palms out. "Pax, sodalis. I am not my mater cara. Don't look a thing like her. I am not here on her behest, and I have precisely zero interest in interfering with your life. That's her pet obsession, not mine. All I am looking for is a place."
(( Incidentally, if I have my Latin right, "Stultus Maximus" means "The Greatest Fool". ))
Tranquillina, (again) surprised by the poppet's movement and speech, tries to figure out what caused its actions, with both her mundane and magical senses.
((Awareness roll, to detect ventriloquism or sleight of hand I guess: Per 2 + Awareness 2 + stress die 0 (no botch) = 4.))
((By the way, standard operating procedure in this saga is that dice rolls between PCs aren't necessarily binding - certainly not in the case of personality rolls, and I think in this situation you can use them as only a guideline as well.))
((Magic Sensitivity roll: Per 2 + Magic Sensitivity 3 + simple die 6 = 11, which according to RAW would sense only a level 50 enchantment or higher. Annoying that it's so tough.))
((Thanks for checking in, I appreciate it. I trust you and the other players to be acting on good faith in trying to mutually move the story along; in the rare case where I don't like it, I can always call for a change. Here I think you're on solid ground 
))
It is a rare sight to see eyes narrow into slits so quickly after they widen in shock, but Tranquillina's seem to have managed the trick. "I am quite capable of living my life suitably regardless of 'interference'," she spits, switching into Latin for some reason. Her voice, formerly tired and placating, is now haughty and shrill. "And as for your place, may I suggest - " She stops herself, closing her eyes tightly. Don't go there, she commands herself, don't insult his height. Whatever his game is, he specifically says he's not here to carry out Cumhachd's plots. Why would he even mention her.... After a deep breath to combat her swirling thoughts, she starts again, the words throbbing with the stress of self-control. "I do not understand why you have sought me out, nor what you desire from me."
In all the drama, Tranquillina has completely missed the significance of the phrase "mater cara". ((Order of Hermes Lore roll: Int 3 + OoH Lore 1 + stress die 0 (seriously?!) (no botch) = 4.))
(( It's a pretty standard MuIm effect invested into the poppet, but I don't think with those rolls she'd be able to tell. Unless her allergy kicks in in the presence of "cooked" vis (i.e. magic items) as well. ))
Stultus is silent for a space of two breaths, and when he speaks again his voice is low, calm, and very even. Like gentling a fractious horse. "Because when I mentioned my mater's name, you jumped like ..." like I just shoved a hot coal down your cleavage... no, better not say that... "... like you were just given a hotfoot. Knowing Cumhachd, and having some inkling into the history between the two of you, I expected something of the sort. That is not at all an unreasonable reaction."
He rubs his chin thoughtfully, looking up at the Bonisagus, and takes a deep breath. "It is my intention to request membership in Mons Electi. Of the current inhabitants, you are the only one I'm aware of with a strong reason to deny said petition. So, I wished to discover whether we could discuss the prospect ahead of time... or if I am, in your eyes, irrevocably tainted by virtue of association, and thus shouldn't even bother." An odd -- and very, very faint -- tone of exasperation creeps into his voice with the last few words.
"Does that answer your question, sodalis?"
((We debated that possibility earlier on in the saga. Our conclusion was that cooked vis is okay for her. But vis in magical creatures ain't....))
((hehe, x2! For the record, her cleavage is: meh ))
"What do you think you know of my history with that woman?!" Tranquillina squawks, setting back the ongoing maga-whispering a beat or two. "What lies has she poisoned you with?"
Tranquillina stares at Stultus. The stare persists. The complete expressionlessness on her face, if worn by a foe in a legal dispute, would signify probably a lack of attachment to the outcome, but with a distinct minority possibility of disproportionate and sudden imminent violence.
Finally, she throws her head back and laughs, not a condemning laugh, but rather the laugh of a woman who is at least considering a nervous breakdown. Tranquillina looks from side to side, hands on her hips, and muses to nobody in particular, "And to think that this morning, when I was approached for Mons Electi membership by one whose mater had cast a paralyzing spell upon me without my consent ... that it would turn out to be not even the most unlikely such request of the day." She laughs again, with humor if not amusement.
Then, the crowd of Dimicatio spectators having almost completely thinned out, she turns and walks out of the viewing area. Her pace is slow, slow enough that a child could keep up.
(( I'm really not sure whether Stultus would follow or not. I can see arguments in his head for either option. Gerg, do you have a preference? ))
((Some preference for him following. Put another way, my intention was to not end the scene, although it is certainly your prerogative and wouldn't upset me.))
((It would upset me! 
))