The boy, for nearly his whole life, had one obsession: politics. Perhaps it was a strange obsession for a child when they could be obsessing over sports, fashion, school, or the boys and girls they fancied, but Palis was simply infatuated. It was one of the few fancies Kilapu Ainu, the boy's hermit father, had both allowed and encouraged him to chase (the man found nearly any fancy that couldn't be made into a profitable career a waste of time and effort), and one of the few areas Palis truly excelled in. When Palis had written home excitedly in Yaris to tell the elder Ainu of his meeting with Incumbent Siordanti, as well as the opportunity the man had offered, Kilapu Ainu begrudgingly agreed to allow his son to spend the summer trailing the politician like a shadow. Politics was perhaps the only area the two belligerent Ainus agreed on; Kilapu may as well herd the boy to a field they could both be satisfied with.
Palis truly didn't need his father's encouragement or help to excel in the political spectrum. His carriage slowed to a smooth halt, and the small young man pushed open the door, carefully stepping onto the hot gravel drive below as the heat danced around his legs like smoke. Before him stood a rather impressive home, and he, as well as many other well-dressed galdori making their way up to the house, stood within the gates. The gate was open, and several passive doormen, stablemen, and valets scurried around the carriage-packed drive like ants on a picnic blanket. Palis strode towards the house confidently, his blonde head held high and proud. Through his peripherals, however, he was searching and analyzing every face that his eyes caught, identifying the name, political opinions, and alignment of each as easily as if he had known each person his whole life. Though he hadn’t met most of the political leaders filtering into the home, he’d like to think he knew them. He had studied their works thoroughly, and he’d poured over them strenuously when Elder Siordanti had explained Palis’ task for the summer social. Palis was to act as Siordanti’s whip; that is to say, Palis was to both learn and possibly gently coax the loyalties of the wild cards and fence riders that most worried and interested Siordanti and his fellow conservatives. The fence riders and swings votes were what broke and built ever clocking decision, after all. Even if Palis’ couldn’t coax much change, they’d at least know what to expect and how to avoid it.
First, however, he had to find Hadrian Siordanti. Palis reached the mansion of whatever indistinct rich politician and ascended the wide marble steps leading to the front doors that spilled the din of a party into the evening air. The high-ceilinged ballroom was brightly lit and undulating with a sea of polite conversation and practiced smiles. The smooth wooden floors were splendidly shining in the light of the soft, moonlike chandeliers lazily twinkling over head. Palis’ head was immediately on the swivel in search of the aging Siordanti. He ‘pardon-me’d’ through the crowd
The elder man had several colleagues he wanted Palis to meet, which, as they had previously discussed, were prime people of interest for Palis’ interrogations. Palis weaved through the bodies, hopping onto the tips of his toes now and again to look over the heads of the crowd. There-! Finally, in a window between a woman in a green dress and a man in an asymmetric purple suit, he spotted the man engaged in a friendly conversation with some red-faced, pot-bellied man. Palis sidled up casually, plucking a drink from a passing tray on a servant’s shoulder. He took the moment he had unnoticed to reach out and read the fields mingling before him. The pot-bellied man was- was that frustration? His field seemed tense, as if Palis would be shocked if he reached his hand out to touch the aura. He retracted his own field so as not to intrude in the other man’s in case he was irritable. He turned to Siordanti. The man was amused, and, though it didn’t show on his face, he made little move to remove the amusement from his field, perhaps even pushing his field out to annoy the pot-bellied man further. Palis watched politely, nodding slightly to Siordanti as the elder man noticed him.
“Ah, Palis Ainu,” Hadrian greeted him, saying his name more to introduce him to the other man than for his own acknowledgement.
“This is Hector Ruma, a liberal-minded friend of mine,” Siordanti introduced the other man, who sputtered at being called liberal-minded. Palis smiled, extending his own hand for Ruma to shake. He recognized the name as that of a frustrating swing vote that had cost Siordanti a few crucial wins on the floor. Hector refused his hand, instead grumbling some excuse to leave. Hadrian let a smile play into his lips as the two of them turned away from the round man barreling away.
“He doesn’t much like the truth,” Palis commented.
“Yes, he’d much rather play pretend. Come, Palis, we’ve a world of people to meet in one night.”