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VOTE NORRELL [ Active / Open ]

i ) THE CAMPAIGN BEGINS

The Norrellite Coven is in full campaign mode, merrily printing fliers, helping hand them out and producing entirely bias leaflets and adverts. The curious thing about the Norrellite Coven itself, after all, is how its popularity rose rather quickly once Norrell himself made it onto the Night Council.

Many of its members rather enjoy being able to have even a fleeting association (or an exaggerated one) to a member of the Night Council, something they can claim means they have his ear or heard various rumours -- it gives them an inflated sense of importance they enjoy.

Which means it is in their interests to make sure he keeps that seat.

Norrell himself is busy approving and disapproving of things -- the latest of which is an article being written on Norrell's behalf. One of Norrell's more loyal coven members has, rather patiently, translated the man's rantings and ravings about dark magic, fae magic, fae and everything else he doesn't like into as close a coherent form as possible. Anyone who has questions about his campaign will be happily lead in and have leaflets foisted upon them, but this is a Daybreak Coven -- so of course it is in Daybreak territory. There are certain restrictions on who is welcome, and the witches are on alert here for any sign of sabotage or competition.

ii ) THE ALLIANCES ARE SET

Norrell, of course, knows well enough he cannot simply win an election campaign alone. He is not an entirely foolish man, and knows that the support of others will help him get where he needs to be.

So support is what he seeks -- yet of course, the support of others is not the only way to succeed. Norrell easily expresses his support of Vrinak, his belief that he has done well as Vice President and will continue to do well, his belief that Sylvia has done good as President and her track record shows she is a good source of stability. Yet equally -- equally he is sure to voice his displeasure. Nora, for example, Nora has been nominated by Dee -- a member of the Night Council thrown out for suspicious affiliations with Dark Magic Covens! Nora herself, even, both of them support Circle Midnight! A Circle who consistently try to assert that dealing with fae should be legal, who previously tried to make a deal with the fae to take Croydon! Which was previously Daybreak territory, yet they tried to trade it like people's homes and livelihoods were not at stake! Outrage is something that he works with, drums up -- how could these people be allowed to do this? How! After all, Daybreak votes are what he is buying -- and Daybreak is what he is appealing to.

Faolan, as well, Faolan is an outrage. Faolan has protected the fae! Stood in the way of them being ousted from a territory! Faolan, who has done this despite being employed by the Night Council! Oh, yes, that's right. By rights he should have lost his position but Sylvia is merciful, of course, she believes in second chances. Faolan has been brought into line, yet now? Now he is standing for election! No, no not after that! Not while Norrell is in charge! It cannot be allowed! Norrell intends to make London a safe place for witches, and that means any fae or anyone who supports the fae needs to be dealt with.

His office at the Night Council headquarters is always open for anyone who wishes to negotiate, of course, or anyone who wishes to ask for support (or show it!). Less so for those he has heaped slander upon, but he might at least hear them out.

iii ) THE RALLIES ARE STARTING

The Norrellite rallies gain a surprising amount of momentum, purely because outrage sells. Are your children safe while fae are allowed to roam and kidnap? Have you heard how, just the other day, while others were busy preventing fae being outed from one place they attacked Daybreak territory and took children! Of course, the good work of the Night Council ensured them returned safely, but this! This is further proof that fae cannot be trusted!

The sessions are an echo chamber of Norrell's opinions, people sitting around loudly agreeing with each other and denouncing all those who disagree. Dee? A traitor, a good thing she was ousted, cannot believe she is trying to work her way back in! Nora? Ridiculous, cannot believe her stances on things, clearly a plant by Dee! Vrinak, on the other hand? What a great guy, hope he gets Vice President again!

Drinks are circulated, and money is clearly changing hands -- the Norrellite campaign is already well funded by the man himself, but clearly outside funding is finding its way in too.

Perhaps you are there to see how his campaign is going? Perhaps you want to try and find out where is extra funding is coming from? Perhaps you are supporting him, appearing there in an official capacity? Or perhaps you simply want to disrupt the meeting, try to start (or fuel) discontent and suspicion, to question the mud-slinging that has gone around or sling mud back? Norrell himself is here, and slightly more out in the open than he is in the safety of his Night Council and Daybreak headquarters. He's sipping an expensive glass of champagne while, for what may feel like the 50th time, a Norrellite supporter details his many successes to a new group of young voters who nod along.

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Normally Ringer would avoid the Coven. It was about the risk though. The risk of the Night Council offices versus the risk of the Norrellite Coven, the risk of meeting a man whom she disliked through reputation versus the risk of not steering his support in the directions that she desired. This entire election was risk and Ringer was uncomfortable being a part of it in any way.

Yet here she was, knocking at his office door, having called ahead to make an appointment if necessary. No reason not to observe decorum, particularly when she was asking for an accord.

"Sir? It's Ringer."

Ringer is not the only one waiting outside. A very extravagantly dressed man is waiting, his smile just a little too wide, face clearly powdered. In fact, it looks a little like he might be wearing some manner of eye make-up. He keeps smiling at her in an unnerving sort of way until the door is finally answered. A small, very brusque looking man with bright red hair opens the door and lofts an eyebrow at her as if to question her business being there at all. He doesn't seem to notice the other man, or perhaps is used to him lurking there so is not bothered by him.

"Lascelles?" Norrell calls somewhat impatiently, "who is it?"

"Ringer, sir," the man answers, forming the name in a way which suggests he finds it distasteful. Of course an appointment was indeed necessary, for Gilbert Norrell goes out of his way to ensure everyone knows how busy and important he is.

"Yes, yes, bring her in. We will talk later."

Lascelles looks personally annoyed by this development -- by being ousted by this Ringer -- and opens the door further to let her past. He inclines his head in exaggerated formality to Norrell before leaving and closing the door behind himself with a quiet click. Norrell is sat at his desk, writing for a few moments longer before lifting his eyes to regard her.

"You are a member of Hillingdon," he begins finally. Norrell makes it his business to know who he is talking to, after all, and everything there is to know about them.

Ringer is used to unsettling and probably mentally touched people watching her every move. She notes the man as a potential threat, but otherwise only wonders at what his role in this place might be. Men like him are often of greater power or wisdom than they purport to be. Her attention is quickly pulled away by another man, one she's fairly certain isn't Norrell and whose name is, thankfully, confirmed as belonging to someone else before she can bother to be troubled by her uncertainty.

She waits, silent and patient, as she's introduced. The disrespect, too, is familiar, especially being the human she is. She makes her entrance upon the cue of the more widely opened door, standing in the middle of the entryway until the man is gone and then moves the couple steps more to stand behind the chairs meant for guests, presenting herself between them with a neutral expression, reserved pose, and dry tone. All quite common for Ringer.

"Yes, though it's not relevant," she answers easily. "I'd like to talk about the election."

The election? Norrell studies her, setting down his pen and lacing his hands together -- sitting back in his chair a little. The furniture inside is all antique, as old fashioned as Norrell himself, finely carved and carefully polished and kept. Books and sundry items line shelves around him, a few binding materials on one shelf off to the side. Some of the books he keeps are old enough that they need careful re-binding to keep them safe.

"If it is the election you wish to talk about then your faction is quite relevant," he counters, especially because of Faolan. Faolan is still somewhat of a bitter topic for Norrell himself. A guardian now standing against those he guards, after the betrayal of supporting the fae!

"Only if you're against supporting Faolan," she replies, a leading statement if ever there was one. It's a good way to test the waters as to whether she can convince Norrell to support Faolan's campaign or if she should ask him to support Yasmine instead. Hopefully the man doesn't have anything against Vrinak, given her determination to have him re-elected as the best candidate. Even as she tries to break the bond between Vrinak and Sylvia.

She waits for a response before adding innocently, "I'd like to make an anonymous donation to your campaign."

Faolan! Norrell lofts an eyebrow and thins his lips unhappily.

"The political stances of Hillingdon seem to shift with the wind. One may gain their support one day and lose it the next without the slightest idea of what was done to cause it. I have supported Hillingdon in the past, paid your hunters well, and yet only recently Faolan -- who of all people should know better! -- went so far as to protect the fae while they kidnapped children in another area. This is a man you want me to support?"

His expression says he does not think this very likely.

"No, though it explains why my faction is relevant," she admits lightly. Ringer's trying to drum up support for Faolan, but if the Councilman is so adamantly against him, it's going to be much easier — and more beneficial to her — to curb her support to other candidates. As generally poor as she is dealing with feelings, Ringer is wonderful at reading her audience when the situation calls for it.

"I want you to support Yasmine Merad's reelection campaign. And Peter Vrinak's. Unless you don't believe them to be adequate, and would reject their support in return." A conditional after thought. As he chose to ignore her offer to donate, Ringer sets it aside for now.

Yasmine and Peter! Norrell huffs at this. Of course, Peter Vrinak is a dear friend of his who he already supports -- but Yasmine! The alternatives are little better, it is true, one openly supports the fae even. They say better the devil you know. Yet still, Norrell will not go quietly on this.

"Support them," he echoes. "And if I were to support them? You are not their spokesperson. You cannot offer me their support so easily."

Yet she can offer other things. He's listening.

"I'm not offering their support. I'm suggesting that your choice not to support them will likely result in their not supporting you. I'm offering a contribution to your campaign. A financial one." She says evenly, calmly. For her age, Ringer is incredibly intelligent and knows well enough how strategy works. If Norrell says no, she can make the others aware of his position. If he says yes, she'll give him money and be done with it.

Although she doesn't know him well, Ringer knows enough of his actions to not actually support Norrell herself. Not directly. Which means the things like passing out flyers and campaigning that she's offered to Vrinak already is not something she'll consider for the man in front of her. It's bad enough that she's having any involvement with the Council at all.

"A contribution," Norrell echoes, faintly scandalised for a moment. Bribery! Not only that, the wording is vague. She could be talking about ten pounds or ten thousand pounds. He frowns at her, lips pressed into a thin line as he considers this. "What sort of contribution should I expect?"

Despite his obvious discomfort he is clearly listening. He has plenty of his own money, but campaigns are not cheap to run.

She's silent for a moment, considering how to word her response. Ringer is definitely one to be too careful, to choose her words carefully even as the objective of bribery is deliberate.

"I'm told generosity reaps karmic rewards. I'll make an anonymous donation of twenty-five hundred pounds. Maybe my good deeds will be rewarded by a higher power." Don't play dumb, Norrell. Ringer's perfectly keen to withdraw her offer if the other side of the bargain isn't confirmed.

Well, it would not be the smallest donation to his campaign but neither would it be the largest. Norrell lofts an eyebrow at her that is somewhat unimpressed, considering this. She expects support of two candidates for that?

"Your generosity does not match your ambition," he observes.

"What generosity would you expect for someone of my magnanimity?" She asks in a clipped tone, hiding the annoyance she feels at dealing with politicians. Particularly the greedy ones who feel entitled to taking with nothing to give, or no willingness to do so.

"I would only offer my time if I felt comfortable with the loyalty you were showing to Faolan. How much money would like an adolescent to part with to support your.. campaign?"

"You think I am being difficult," Norrell counters, his small, sharp little eyes pinning her down. "You are asking me to show support in two very specific places. Yet an election is not a cheap thing. The cost of supporting another candidate, specifically, increases the cost of my own campaign. If you wish my support to make a difference then you must be realistic. Election campaigns run into hundreds of thousands of pounds! A lot of work has already been done. If you truly wish to show support to people, Miss, do not expect two thousand pounds to win an election."

"I don't want to waste time," she replies honestly. His time or hers, but mostly hers. If he gives her a number and agrees to her conditions, she can leave. The ambiguous bartering, though necessary, is something she's never enjoyed in her limited dealings.

He doesn't much intimidate her, beyond the fear of having her killed, which she judges to be counter to his desires for now. Hopefully she's right.

"Good thing you are such an excellent fundraiser." So very dry. "Your support is worth eight thousand pounds to me."

A final offer. Vrinak accepted barely more, for a higher position and a more troublesome request. It annoys her to give him more than five, but she means what she says about not wanting to waste time.

Night Council business must go on as usual, of course, and they make sure to avoid discussing the election campaign during meetings. Sylvia is always interested to take the temperature of other campaigns, though, and so she catches Norrell at the end of one such meeting, falling into step with him as they head back to their offices.

"So, how goes the campaign? First time, it is a lot to take on."

She's still trying to decide whether his frequent scowling is just Norrell being Norrell, or if he is finding the whole thing quite challenging.

It is, in fact, Norrell being Norrell. His face may as well be stuck that way. On cue, he scowls.

"Some of the other candidates this year -- I cannot believe they have been allowed to stand! They make a mockery of us. Of the Night Council."

Of English magic, of course, but he manages not to voice that particular pet concern this time. Simply shows distaste in his expression.

"I do not see how you can stand it."

Imagine if some of them were voted in! Oh, the horror.

"Unfortunately we have to stand a lot of things. Ridicule being one of them." People will always mock politicians. Sylvia doesn't like it, but she has taught herself to ignore it. She shakes her head. "I hope you have a thick skin. You'll need it."

There are people who loathe her on principle, who loathe Norrell on principle. It doesn't matter what she says or how reasonable she is, those people will never agree with her. Something else Sylvia has learned to live with over the years.

He sneers slightly again.

"I am used to such things," he lets slip, without really thinking about it. "Sniggering and disapproval. They do not understand what is at stake. They think it is a game. Some of them -- the guardian!" Norrell says suddenly, and shoots Sylvia a sharp look. "Why has he been allowed to stand? I thought him a human. He should not be able to stand for the position. Not to mention the rest of it!"

How was a Guardian now in conflict with those he guarded, how he had protected the fae!

"He has a minor ability," Sylvia answers, "which would make him a meta human. We always check the nomination credentials. He was eligible to stand. He made a poor decision in doing so, but he is eligible."

There's disapproval in her voice too, perhaps a touch more subtle than Norrell's. She had told Faolan that it would be best for him to keep his head down during the election campaign. He's doing the exact opposite.

A minor ability! The way Norrell presses his lips together says he is definitely not pleased about this.

"A Guardian should not be allowed to run," he says finally. "Surely that is a conflict of interest! How can he be trusted to protect the Night Council when he runs against them? Even worse, when he has already proven his politics to conflict with those of many on the council itself!"

Sylvia can spin with the best of them, but sometimes she is truly astonished at Norrell's ability to twist the reality of a situation for his own ends. She raises an eyebrow.

"He's running for a place on the Night Council. It is... atypical for a Guardian to run for office and we do discourage it, but it's more of an unwritten rule than actual law. That is something we could change, if you wished to put a motion forward, Gilbert. But we couldn't enforce it for this election."

Not when the process has already started. The truth is that it wasn't something she had anticipated might happen, and so she hadn't planned for it. Faolan has taken them by surprise.

It is a talent Norrell has worked on for quite some time.

He scowls.

"It would not be so difficult if not for his behaviour," Norrell says. A guardian who fell in line properly standing for a position might well be a good thing -- someone loyal already and easily controlled? Perfect. Faolan? Disaster.

Edited (words) 2016-04-24 17:43 (UTC)

"I know," she says quietly. His loyalties had always been ambivalent, but she had thought the Guardian oath would keep him in line. Now he's the leader of the Hillingdon Clan and far from being a useful spy, he's actively making life difficult for them.

They reach her office and she pauses outside, wondering whether it's even wise to admit this...

"It's Millicent I'm worried about." She keeps her tone low, aware that there could be ears listening at any moment. "We're all so occupied with the campaign and if she decides to take matters into her own hands..."

Well, Millicent's hands tend to be violent. Her temper when roused can be fatal.

In truth, so occupied had Norrell been with his own distaste and irritation that he had no even considered the other side of it. Millicent. It had been Islington Nest he had been acting against, Daybreak had only been assisting.

The sharp look he gives her says he is considering it now.

"Perhaps," he begins slowly, "we could extract a promise from him? To allay her fears."

It might be best to discuss this in private. Sylvia steps inside her office, gesturing for Norrell to follow her. When he does, she shuts the door behind her and sighs.

"I assured Millicent that I would deal with it, and I spoke to Faolan myself. Of course that was before I learned that he was running for office. You and I know how provocative that is; I'm not sure that he does. What sort of promise are you thinking?"

It would be difficult, she thinks, to pressure Faolan into making any kind of promise that would pacify the Islington Nest. He's far too principled.

Norrell follows her in with a frown, one that stays put even as she speaks.

"Not to attack her directly?" he offers, "surely that is what she will fear, that he will have Hillingdon move against her again. Perhaps not to interfere with Islington in any way?" He hesitates, uneasy, then shakes his head. "Surely Faolan will not win, regardless. He is not established enough, he has no political expertise! He will be toppled by Yasmine the moment he missteps, whihc his sure to be soon."

"He doesn't have to win to act against the Islington Nest," she points out. "All he's done is prove his ambition." She sighs. "Whatever happens, I doubt he would agree to a promise like that. I imagine he has enough on his plate for now."

What with Norrell's smear campaign. Yes, she's seen it.

He'd admit to it easily. Lancelot doesn't like Faolan for this and he doesn't care who knows it.

Still, neither would he wish Millicent's temper on anyone.

"Well," Norrell says finally, letting out a heavy sigh. "If he will insist on interfering in Nest matters then he cannot be protected for long. Perhaps it may be a harsh lesson, but it may well remind Hillingdon why they stay out of politics."

Sylvia grimaces. She can see the sense in Norrell's words, but they are harsh. This isn't just a political argument. People could die.

"I hope he doesn't have to learn the hard way." She shakes her head. "We'll see how things stand after the election. Thank you for listening, Gilbert, I do appreciate it."

If they need to formulate a plan, they will. For now, there isn't much more to be done.

Norrell considers this a moment, ready to let it go, then turns a little more.

"Does he have a witch's amulet? Have him sent one, or something else silver. Don't let them know it was from you."

The last thing Sylvia needs is to be seen to be protecting Faolan if Millicent develops a grudge.

One might almost think Norrell is concerned for Faolan's well-being.

"I'll look into it. Thank you."

She gives him a brief nod, then waits for him to leave before returning to her desk. It ought to be an easy choice, she thinks, protecting one of her own employees. But is Faolan really loyal to the Night Council? His feelings on that seem ambiguous at best. She'll have to think about it.

It is Sofia Hughes who waits patiently for the witch representative to have time to see her. Who gingerly follows the man who leads her back to him with all the grace of a dancer. And who smiles at the man she's brought before.

"Good afternoon," she says. "Thank you for taking the time to see me, Mister Norrell. I'll try not to take up too much of your time, sir. I'm here as a... spokeswoman, I suppose, for the East End pack."

He studies her curiously, lofts an eyebrow as he sits back in his chair. The room is decorated with expensive, perfectly kept antique furniture and books all along the shelves. It is as old fashioned and well worn as Gilbert Norrell himself.

"You are the second I have seen," he notes. Well, go on then.

"Am I?" The question, of course, is whether it was her aunt or James who'd approached him already. Probably not Aunt Jenny... but she couldn't be sure.

"I'm here about the petition that is being put forward by members of the East End Pack. It goes before the Night Council at the end of this month, I believe. It would give members of the East End Pack a say in who sits in the offices of vice president and president."

A vote for the East End pack! In truth, it makes sense. He can see why they would want one. Norrell knows the history behind why they don't, and he can see reason to keep things that way. Shakes are not always good, and they cannot be guaranteed that the East End Pack will vote how they want.

"You are hoping I will support it?" he prompts, because that much seems obvious.

"I was," she replies with a smile. "I know, of course, we can't offer you much by way of current support, as we're not looking to interfere in witch affairs, just as witches don't vote for the other representatives. But I still believe we're in a position to assist in other ways."

"Other ways," Norrell echoes, regarding her with skeptical curiosity. "And what other ways might that be?"

After all, Norrell is not about to refuse help if he can get it. He may not admit it, but his winning the election is far from a foregone conclusion.

"Well, I'm sure you could use someone else campaigning for you," she replies. "I could get out and canvas, along with a few of my friends."

She offers another smile.

"And I'm sure a mention to Mister Memon might see a donation to your campaign. If, of course, you're still in need of funds."

A political campaign always needs funds, something Norrell can hardly deny. He lofts an eyebrow at skip, drops his eyes to his desk and shuffles through papers.

"And what of Mister Memon himself?" Norrell prompts, "if you are, as you hope, to begin to take part more in things, I will need assurances that you will not interfere. That we will all be agreed on certain things."

On the fae, of course.

Well... there was a very social element to all of this, wasn't there? Henry had always been a fast learner, but he didn't think this brand of politics took a particularly apt mind. So many years studying the ancient Greeks and Romans, and he knew a house of power when he saw one-- and also the scare-monger tactics it would use, when the foundations of it began to rot. Change was in the air, and historically, politicians had always been allergic to change.

No matter. Henry wouldn't be worth his weight in salt if he couldn't fit in seamlessly among these types; hadn't he been raised among wolves, the elite?; and doing so would help him to understand the lay of the land... and how the topography was about to shift.

Going to introduce himself to the man of the hour, then, with a hand out to shake.

"You gave an impassioned speech, Mr. Norrell. Very... impressive."

As far as diction went, anyway.

Norrell looks over as Henry speaks, glances down at his hand sceptically before taking it with a slightly hesitant smile.

"It is a topic I am passionate about," he says, and in this his earnestness is clear. "Others might be happy to stand by and see magic go to ruin, but I have long believed we should better ourselves -- set a standard."

"I can tell." With a slight tilt of his head, to acknowledge. He always felt he had to furnish the dispassion in his voice with action, somehow, however self-contained.

Having shook his hand then, he went on, "Yes, Sir. All of history's greatest achievements have been accomplished under the rule that some men must do great things in order for others to live their ordinary lives, untroubled. I take it from your speech that you are wont to achieve greatness for our kind?"

Or that that was how he saw himself, undoubtedly.

"Oh, I hope so! I intend to try! I am not as experienced as some in the intricacies of politics in London, but I have learnt quickly! I think I have achieved much in a short time, more than some!"

To be sure Norrell has not been idle. He has helped pass laws, driven back the fae in several territories. When he puts his mind to something it is very difficult to steer him elsewhere, as Childermass would likely lament.

"What is your crowning achievement so far?" And, if he were not a man for curiosity, Henry admitted-- "I'm new to the area, and to the politics here in general. I would very much appreciate your taking the time to regale me with the change you have already managed."

He could recite from ancient books, or tell you each senator and Pharaoh of old, and all of their magicians and mystics... but frankly, he didn't even know who the current Prime Minister was, who the President of the United States was, and couldn't have named a single foreign minister. He had no interest.

But in a case where it might affect him, and where the law might be able to be bent to allow him what he wanted, if the right strings were pulled... well, he could suffer to learn to have interest. Why not start from the top?

His crowning achievement? Norrell contemplates this.

"Freeing Croydon from fae rule and returning it to Daybreak hands is something I was particularly proud of," he admits, "but I must also say -- helping tighten the laws on dark magic is a thing I have long hoped to do! To see it come to pass is to be part of history!"

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VOTE NORRELL [ Active / Open ]

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