The mask of Iverius had slipped as she'd been around Amy, but by the time she clicked into the Board meeting in her high heels, the cold facade was entirely re-donned.

"You're late, Miss Drovelia," a man with graying hair said politely. 

Ivy glanced at him, then leaned over toward Amy, silently prompting her. 

"Julius Ernst, " she whispered into Ivy’s ear, just loud enough for everyone to hear. 

Ivy nodded.

The man -- Mister Ernst -- flushed.

The snub was purposeful. Ivy had known who this was; had done her homework, of course, if cursory by restraints of time. But Amy had picked up on Ivy’s intentions instantly; it hadn’t been a scripted interaction. Such a useful girl.

Pretending she hadn't known him … ah, what an insult, to a man who considered himself so important. But Iverius? Iverius was genuinely important; one of the most esteemed names of a generation, of several generations, a war hero of old.

"My apologies,” Ivy said coolly. “I was occupied. I’ll attempt punctuality, of course, but sometimes it can’t be helped." She sat at the front of the table, the tall-backed leather seat reserved for her, and said nothing more on the matter. "Let's make this quick. I have places to be."

The six members of the board didn't take that well. Besides, perhaps, the middle-aged woman seated two seats forward and to the left, who seemed vaguely amused.

Leigh Ontiveros, I think?

Ivy needed to not overplay her hand. She could only leverage her prestige so much, and, while potent, it meant less to these people than most. Influential members from high society themselves, being cowed by a big name wasn't something Ivy could place her hopes in. Establish herself, set the tone … but not unnecessarily make enemies. She might even be able to make allies; maybe not all six would be wholly opposed to her plans. 

Maybe one would be a pervert, even, and support her wholeheartedly, no manipulation required. That’d take gentle teasing out. She’d need to carefully observe reactions, do some background research, beyond what Amy had supplied.

“Let me open with a tempering of expectations,” Ivy said dryly – surprised, even to her own ears, how easily the bored confidence, even contempt for this so-called ‘important’ meeting, dripped from her mouth. Maybe she did have a talent for this. “I don’t intend to be hands on when it comes to the … bureaucratic side of management. These meetings will be short and to the point. I do detest how … complicated things have become, these days. It seems every century grinds slower and slower, doesn’t it? Eventually, it feels, it will come to a halt entirely, crippled by the sheer weight of all this pointless scaffolding.”

A short reminder of her seniority – of the ancientness of Iverius. Very few Valkyrie were powerful enough to have obtained the permanent aura of youth Iverius had; one in ten thousand, perhaps. Not that Iverius was even that. One in a million, or higher.

And the reminder worked, if subtly – a kind of consideration came over each of the board member’s faces, unique to each. Mister Ernst frowned, quietly annoyed, perhaps at not being the most important person in the room – and the blonde haired woman, Leigh, nodded to herself, acknowledging and agreeing with Ivy’s disclaimer. Ivy noted that. Perhaps someone Ivy should pursue alliance with, based on the minimal information she’d gathered so far.

“So, we cut away the frills,” Ivy said. “I bring a policy change to the board, to be voted on.”

“We haven’t –” someone started, then cut off. Ivy’s icy gaze slid to him, slowly and deliberately, and he faltered. He cleared his throat. “Forgive me, Headmaster. Please continue. No frills .. it sounds a relief.” The words rang false, but he’d agreed nonetheless.

“As I was saying,” Ivy said dryly, moving on. “I’ve met with my representatives, and one raised a concern. She thinks the uniform policy too strict, and I agree. The suggested adjustments are as follows.” She waved for Amy, who, thus far standing in the corner of the room, walked around and placed a piece of paper detailing the policy adjustment in front of each board member.

“No frills, you say …” Mister Ernst sneered after a moment. “Skip the frivolity. Yet your first suggested action today is a uniform adjustment.”

“You do,” Ivy said, “seem the type of man to consider subject and not intent, Mister Ernst.”

A silence.

“It endears her to the student base,” Leigh said to him, a bare hint of condescension. “The policy is irrelevant; approving a request from a representative sets a reasonable tone. Headmaster Tance held office for three decades. Not an easy thing, to claw favor from that kind of precedence. It’s a wise first action.” She glanced down at the paper. “Even if I might not approve of relaxing policy, when discipline is so crucial to good order.” She frowned. “Minor adjustments. Allowable.” She pushed the paper away, leaned back in her chair.

Ivy raised her eyebrows, gave a short incline of her head in appreciation to Leigh. She nodded back.

A shame she was against loosening policy – she seemed otherwise amiable.

Mister Ernst said nothing, only stewed in silence at the disrespect offered by both Ivy and Leigh. The other board members hadn’t decided to weigh in one way or another. One of the men had, at one point, seemed like he would throw in with Ernst – but changed his mind. 

Whatever pre-prepared alliances had been forged prior to Ivy’s arrival, clearly they weren’t strong enough to overrule Iverius’s – and a new Headmaster’s – potential favor.

“Let’s vote, then,” Ivy said. “For?”

Only Mister Ernst voted against. This wasn’t a policy any of the board members were willing to set a poor tone with Ivy out of, as Ivy had suspected. Only Mister Ernst, who had determined to be her enemy. Reasonably, to be fair – she had snubbed him.

Ah, well. No helping that.

She had blackmail and coercion, should she need it. Both of the mundane and magical kind, should it come to it.

“Excellent. Let’s continue.”