Chapter I - Sword and Shield
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TennyoCeres84
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Re: Chapter I - Sword and Shield
"Even squeaky clean purity has its dark side. Depending how long the Tree is awake, we may yet see more faces from the past. The ones that caused the Tree to be planted...but it is more likely the greatest foes will be from Darkest Winter. The days of white-washed facades are gone; the people of Hope will have to deal with the darker shades of Archibald's career. No one batted an eyelash during the days of McCarthyism, but Archibald Holden has more than proved himself, time and again. I will speak on his behalf, if I must," the tree spirit answered, looking about for more errant branches. "As I'm sure others, like Sir Percival, will do."
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Chapter I - Sword and Shield
Three nodded. “Either way, the coming months are probably going to be a political shitstorm if these thefts aren't connected to a culprit. If we're lucky, we'll be able to solve this without the old glories being involved – which would reassure people on both sides of the argument.”
He went back to trimming branches, stepping progressively away from Sophia , until an open gap in the Tree's low canopy allowed him to see something that might have seemed odd to newcomers to town, but that was perfectly normal once you took in Hope's last few decades.
It was a suit, and it walked towards them. Not suit as in government official, but rather as in style of clothing. Shined leather shoes, a white shirt, red tie and marine-blue assorted suit jacket and pants progressed forward at a reasonably loose and comfortable pace, the jacket left open and the wind being left free to tease the necktie this way and that. Hovering about three inches on top of the shirt's lapels was a pair of sunglasses.
Nigel Griffin had been a thief for too long for the wealth that had come to him later in life to change his humble outlook on life. He dressed sharply enough, being one of the city's three or four influential CEOs; but he rarely traveled about by limousine or chauffeured car. Unless he wore understandably uncomfortable latex covers for his head and hands, all you ever saw of him was his clothes. Today's weather was honestly too warm for any invisible man to tolerate the idea of staying covered up all day long. In keeping with his former professional moniker, he oftentimes seemed to be little else but a voice heard in an otherwise deserted room or building. Heading Griffin Securities, however, was something that put severe limitations on his ability to wander about buck naked.
He rarely, if ever got to do the job he'd initially done as Hope's very own Robin Hood now, so the Voice was at least somewhat visible, now...
A hand-less arm was raised and shook in Aidan's direction. The young man smiled back. “Hey, Nigel!” he said, “I can't really chat, I'm working right now but – How are you?”
Three had gotten used to sensing a touch he couldn't see a long time ago. His father had quickly ingratiated himself in Griffin's eyes, so the boss had eventually become a bit of a covert family friend. Discrete dinners and Christmas parties had been shared over the years, Gavin keeping the closeness he shared with his employer a close secret. It went to the point where Three remembered one New Year's Eve where, back when he'd been fairly young, his father had come home from work with one of Nigel's overnight bags...
The former thief had driven most of the way, and then jogged two blocks with no clothes on – in freezing weather. All so nobody at the office would develop any potential jealousy.
Intangible fingers covered in perceptibly knobby joints and venerable wrinkles squeezed his shoulder. “I'm fine, son. Well – Kuhn's investigation notwithstanding,” he explained, his voice putting him around sixty-five years old if he'd been a standard mortal. He'd hailed from the shores of England as a boy; a bit of Scouser clinging to his vowels, something that sounded almost Scottish, but not quite. He'd always sounded just a little bit nasal, a little bit smoky, something in the way he spoke giving the sense that he tried to compensate for what you couldn't see by being as vocally expressive as possible.
He shrugged. “I don't mind – the old lizard's covering all the bases, like I would. It makes sense for him to try and see if I'd have any vested interests in stealing my own collection,” he explained, a bit of amused laughter giving a sunny tint to his words. “Maybe I need the practice, for all he knows!”
The Voice briefly chuckled at his own comment, but he stepped past the soldier to briefly embrace Sophia, planting a suitably European pair of kisses on her cheeks. “Darling,” he said fondly, “I hope this lowly gardener hasn't been bothering you too much...”
Drake gave a rueful smirk to his father's boss over his shoulder and slipped a little kick sideways. “Ow,” replied Griffin, in a rather playful and happy deadpan.
* * *
After her first repaired conversion kit, Frank hovered around Tam and her handiwork, using the occasional bouncing leap and his lazy downwards curves to keep an eye on her progress.
“Very solid work, Zainall!” he complimented. “The bolts are securely placed, the intake manifold doesn't look like it'll leak – I'd say you've done and turn a cheap hand-me-down I'd have given to bumbling tourists into a kit I'll have to keep aside for beginning enthusiasts...”
A few more kits later, Brenner let out a long sigh that conveyed his surprise. “Well, I'll be. I'd never expected to find a mechanical Mozart in this part of town, of all places! This one I'll have to sell at a premium, I think! I could even pass it off as being genuine if I find a box from one of the Karthian outfits in one of the recycling dumpsters downtown!”
He jumped onto the bit of countertop she'd have elected as her work surface. “If there's one thing Earth does, it's soften a Paradise native's outlook on people and make him look for talent where he wouldn't have, otherwise...
I don't say that often, kid; and especially not so soon in a professional relationship – but I like you, girl. You work fast, you're passionate and you're resourceful. It looks like you'll be the one teaching me a few things in a month or two, if this goes on!”
He grinned. “Tell you what : why don't I misplace one of my better pieces out the back, eh?”
Brenner was effectively giving her whatever piece she'd like gratis – an excessively rare display of trust, coming from a Drifter.
* * *
The Eldest Gruff nodded. “Aye. The Black Dog of the Orkneys is not known for a lack of caution,” he acquiesced, obviously referring to Aldergard.
Katherine's living egg chair drifted closer and the goat straightened his back a bit. “The Dark is silent as of late, apart from those conscripts Oberon has claimed. The former White King says his few drones are blind to potential machinations. There is nothing 'pon the horizon to speak of, Solicitor.”
Still, he gave her a knowing smirk. “This meaning that there is something yonder. We have simply yet to sight it. Mab gave birth to her Wisps; she would know how to blind the defectors. She is the Queen of Darkness and Shadows – secrecy is her domain.”
His massive shoulders briefly slumped. “I ken that she is attempting to lead our wits astray. Dark things pour forth from the Black Ridge 'yond what you know as the Hillard, and your Sandhill bears the distant marks of the Dark's corruption. My men and the Countess' hounds have been sufficient to beat back would-be skirmishers thus far. Suspecting a betrayal to come, I have ordered my Knights to remain on high alert both here and in Hope. I will not bear the shame of seeing my corps torn asunder by enemies from within – of that much you may be certain.”
He was silent for a few moments and then dug into one of his desk's drawers to find a rather mundane manila folder, which he handed out to her. “The Landsmeet between the Bright and Warm looms ahead. Gawain Machae has come of age by our standards, his mantle has fully developed, and my superiors have deferred that he is to stand as my Countess' vis-à-vis in Oberon's court. The King and Queen themselves will be present in Hope over the following weeks. They would stand as appealing targets for any would-be warlock. Amassing arcane potential would be a prudent measure for anyone seeking to defeat the Erlking and Boudicca. The noble houses of the Sidhe would be weakened, leaving free range to our less reputable cousins.”
As mantles were normally worn permanently, the notable two exceptions concerned the King and Queen. Oberon was only ever Oberon as long as he didn't claim his right to lead the Wild Hunt. If he did, he became the Erlking – essentially a more savage and war-mongering counterpart to his normally ribald self. The same could be said of Titania, whose impeccable poise could be drowned in white fire if she claimed her mantle as Boudicca; one of Celtic mythology's famed women warriors – and incidentally, head of all Banshees.
He went back to trimming branches, stepping progressively away from Sophia , until an open gap in the Tree's low canopy allowed him to see something that might have seemed odd to newcomers to town, but that was perfectly normal once you took in Hope's last few decades.
It was a suit, and it walked towards them. Not suit as in government official, but rather as in style of clothing. Shined leather shoes, a white shirt, red tie and marine-blue assorted suit jacket and pants progressed forward at a reasonably loose and comfortable pace, the jacket left open and the wind being left free to tease the necktie this way and that. Hovering about three inches on top of the shirt's lapels was a pair of sunglasses.
Nigel Griffin had been a thief for too long for the wealth that had come to him later in life to change his humble outlook on life. He dressed sharply enough, being one of the city's three or four influential CEOs; but he rarely traveled about by limousine or chauffeured car. Unless he wore understandably uncomfortable latex covers for his head and hands, all you ever saw of him was his clothes. Today's weather was honestly too warm for any invisible man to tolerate the idea of staying covered up all day long. In keeping with his former professional moniker, he oftentimes seemed to be little else but a voice heard in an otherwise deserted room or building. Heading Griffin Securities, however, was something that put severe limitations on his ability to wander about buck naked.
He rarely, if ever got to do the job he'd initially done as Hope's very own Robin Hood now, so the Voice was at least somewhat visible, now...
A hand-less arm was raised and shook in Aidan's direction. The young man smiled back. “Hey, Nigel!” he said, “I can't really chat, I'm working right now but – How are you?”
Three had gotten used to sensing a touch he couldn't see a long time ago. His father had quickly ingratiated himself in Griffin's eyes, so the boss had eventually become a bit of a covert family friend. Discrete dinners and Christmas parties had been shared over the years, Gavin keeping the closeness he shared with his employer a close secret. It went to the point where Three remembered one New Year's Eve where, back when he'd been fairly young, his father had come home from work with one of Nigel's overnight bags...
The former thief had driven most of the way, and then jogged two blocks with no clothes on – in freezing weather. All so nobody at the office would develop any potential jealousy.
Intangible fingers covered in perceptibly knobby joints and venerable wrinkles squeezed his shoulder. “I'm fine, son. Well – Kuhn's investigation notwithstanding,” he explained, his voice putting him around sixty-five years old if he'd been a standard mortal. He'd hailed from the shores of England as a boy; a bit of Scouser clinging to his vowels, something that sounded almost Scottish, but not quite. He'd always sounded just a little bit nasal, a little bit smoky, something in the way he spoke giving the sense that he tried to compensate for what you couldn't see by being as vocally expressive as possible.
He shrugged. “I don't mind – the old lizard's covering all the bases, like I would. It makes sense for him to try and see if I'd have any vested interests in stealing my own collection,” he explained, a bit of amused laughter giving a sunny tint to his words. “Maybe I need the practice, for all he knows!”
The Voice briefly chuckled at his own comment, but he stepped past the soldier to briefly embrace Sophia, planting a suitably European pair of kisses on her cheeks. “Darling,” he said fondly, “I hope this lowly gardener hasn't been bothering you too much...”
Drake gave a rueful smirk to his father's boss over his shoulder and slipped a little kick sideways. “Ow,” replied Griffin, in a rather playful and happy deadpan.
* * *
After her first repaired conversion kit, Frank hovered around Tam and her handiwork, using the occasional bouncing leap and his lazy downwards curves to keep an eye on her progress.
“Very solid work, Zainall!” he complimented. “The bolts are securely placed, the intake manifold doesn't look like it'll leak – I'd say you've done and turn a cheap hand-me-down I'd have given to bumbling tourists into a kit I'll have to keep aside for beginning enthusiasts...”
A few more kits later, Brenner let out a long sigh that conveyed his surprise. “Well, I'll be. I'd never expected to find a mechanical Mozart in this part of town, of all places! This one I'll have to sell at a premium, I think! I could even pass it off as being genuine if I find a box from one of the Karthian outfits in one of the recycling dumpsters downtown!”
He jumped onto the bit of countertop she'd have elected as her work surface. “If there's one thing Earth does, it's soften a Paradise native's outlook on people and make him look for talent where he wouldn't have, otherwise...
I don't say that often, kid; and especially not so soon in a professional relationship – but I like you, girl. You work fast, you're passionate and you're resourceful. It looks like you'll be the one teaching me a few things in a month or two, if this goes on!”
He grinned. “Tell you what : why don't I misplace one of my better pieces out the back, eh?”
Brenner was effectively giving her whatever piece she'd like gratis – an excessively rare display of trust, coming from a Drifter.
* * *
The Eldest Gruff nodded. “Aye. The Black Dog of the Orkneys is not known for a lack of caution,” he acquiesced, obviously referring to Aldergard.
Katherine's living egg chair drifted closer and the goat straightened his back a bit. “The Dark is silent as of late, apart from those conscripts Oberon has claimed. The former White King says his few drones are blind to potential machinations. There is nothing 'pon the horizon to speak of, Solicitor.”
Still, he gave her a knowing smirk. “This meaning that there is something yonder. We have simply yet to sight it. Mab gave birth to her Wisps; she would know how to blind the defectors. She is the Queen of Darkness and Shadows – secrecy is her domain.”
His massive shoulders briefly slumped. “I ken that she is attempting to lead our wits astray. Dark things pour forth from the Black Ridge 'yond what you know as the Hillard, and your Sandhill bears the distant marks of the Dark's corruption. My men and the Countess' hounds have been sufficient to beat back would-be skirmishers thus far. Suspecting a betrayal to come, I have ordered my Knights to remain on high alert both here and in Hope. I will not bear the shame of seeing my corps torn asunder by enemies from within – of that much you may be certain.”
He was silent for a few moments and then dug into one of his desk's drawers to find a rather mundane manila folder, which he handed out to her. “The Landsmeet between the Bright and Warm looms ahead. Gawain Machae has come of age by our standards, his mantle has fully developed, and my superiors have deferred that he is to stand as my Countess' vis-à-vis in Oberon's court. The King and Queen themselves will be present in Hope over the following weeks. They would stand as appealing targets for any would-be warlock. Amassing arcane potential would be a prudent measure for anyone seeking to defeat the Erlking and Boudicca. The noble houses of the Sidhe would be weakened, leaving free range to our less reputable cousins.”
As mantles were normally worn permanently, the notable two exceptions concerned the King and Queen. Oberon was only ever Oberon as long as he didn't claim his right to lead the Wild Hunt. If he did, he became the Erlking – essentially a more savage and war-mongering counterpart to his normally ribald self. The same could be said of Titania, whose impeccable poise could be drowned in white fire if she claimed her mantle as Boudicca; one of Celtic mythology's famed women warriors – and incidentally, head of all Banshees.
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TennyoCeres84
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Re: Chapter I - Sword and Shield
Sophia chuckled and smiled at the two men. "Lowly gardener or not, I consider Mr. Drake to be a friend, Nigel," she replied, hugging the invisible man. "What brings you here, then?" Much like the other veterans from the Battle of Hope, she had formed a strong camaraderie with the thief. She felt she shared a bond with them that not even Mayor Doherty would ever understand. "With everything that's been happening, I imagine this isn't a visit meant for reminiscing."
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Karl the Mad
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Re: Chapter I - Sword and Shield
"Troubling, indeed," Katherine agreed. "So it seems we have one potential motive for the artifact smuggling; to amass power in preparation for an attempt on your king and queen. And with Mab plotting something, we cannot afford to be lax." She knew that what affected the Fae affected everyone; she could not afford to close her mind to any thread. "I'm sure my employer will be interested in this folder," she went on, briefly glancing at the first few pages.
Re: Chapter I - Sword and Shield
"That's- what?" Tam sputtered to a stop in the middle of what she was doing, finally pulling out of her zone.
"That's- awfully generous."
"That's- awfully generous."
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Chapter I - Sword and Shield
Griffin chuckled lightly, largely to make it clear he was smiling. “Are you saying I'm not allowed social calls?” he teased, after which the sunglasses canted themselves in Drake's direction by the smallest of margins.
“There is something, though. I wanted to check on you, Sophia; see if you'd been tampered with on some level over the last few weeks. You're looking well and the Tree looks reassuringly undisturbed, so I'd assume nothing out of the ordinary happened.”
He hesitated for a moment. “Aldergard reassures me that his men are prepared to protect my collection, but this is a bit of a dicey proposition for me. I created my Hall of Mirrors just shortly after Francis showed me his Shadow Gallery. I wanted to give a chance for those artifacts I'd kept out of undeserving hands to at least keep their cultural relevance – but all this did was stress-test my security protocols in the early nineties. The public deserves to see those elements of arcane history and research, and I was never comfortable with keeping my pieces as private displays for close friends. You both know my personal philosophy – I'm a little leery at the thought of considering that my nature makes me an exclusive sort. Studies in magical theory can only progress if the most research material possible is available to all – and hoarding bits and bobs away as trophies from previous heists isn't fair.
So, well... I'm a few hours short of receiving the public in Anastasius' exbibition space. I'm nervous, and I know how these things carry some sort of scent.”
The shades canted sideways a bit. “Well – no. Not so much a scent as an imprint. A suggestion of power for those already inclined to look for it. I could contain the leak in my own tower the first time it happened, but now? Out in the open? I can post Gavin and his men at every corner, I can twist the Karthian's arm so he blankets the crowd with some kind of theft-deterring thought canvas – but I'm no fool. Every security plan has its cracks.”
Three's eyes narrowed a bit. “Are you afraid my father's not going to do a good job?
- Heavens, no! Of course not, son!” quickly chided Nigel. “However, your father's just one man, he's being helped by fellow mundanes, the Tree is stirring and you know better than anyone how something as ridiculously small as a cufflink button with scraps of via clinging to it would find takers. Not every mage is comfortable with the idea of tapping into the local ley lines, and the idea of having a store of power to use on the go is appealing. I'll assume you also already know of the dangers of someone else stockpiling individually insignificant artifacts to fuel a greater project.”
Three nodded. “Yeah, someone could be wanting to fuel something big without Sophia or anyone else noticing an increase in the Tree's output. All I know is this is pretty common when you're looking to fuel a ritual for a holiday or a solstice and you don't have access to a Nexus. LaVey has a couple casual Infernalists convinced that it's worth stockpiling via for Walpurgisnacht, for instance.”
That made Nigel shift to a more thoughtful stance. “Sophia, are you sure you couldn't kiss this young idiot and convince him to come and work for me? He's got a head on his shoulders and his father's know-how, and he still insists on giving you a helping hand you decidedly don't need... Do I need to mention my dental plans again, Aidan? Or is it your retirement fund you'd like buttered up-”
The former soldier spared the dryad and invisible man a soft glare as he kept clipping excess branches. “I couldn't keep Carrie, Stinson or Kowalski alive. What makes you think I'd do better in a room filled with arcane grenades waiting to go off and a city's worth of drooling idiots just waiting to go Warlock for the sake of fuelling their pet projects? I'm not even a mage, Nigel. All I've got is Dad's understanding of via. Not any sort of sensitivity to it.”
The Voice grunted noncommittally. “You've got something else, if I'm not mistaken. Why don't you-
- Save it, okay?!” snapped Drake. “Just – fucking save it, already. I'm not playing around with this stuff just so you get to give me a paycheck and get accused of nepotism! As that's what's going to happen, you know : you in front of the Better Business Bureau, me in another courtroom and someone else accusing me of being a loose cannon. Thanks, but no thanks.”
* * *
“Thou canst keep this folder,” confirmed the Viscount, “I shall have another copy prepared. All that I may ascertain is that little can take place without sufficient power. The invisible man's exhibition would provide only part of such power.”
He was silent for a few moments. “Here are those we know to watch... Earth hosts Thomas Quint, an Infernalist of infamous reknown, as well as any number of smaller cells suspected to operate on Elysium's behalf. Gregory Rendell needs no motive, for he wields them all in his quest to waylay us. Right-wing nationalist extremism, religious terrorism from any of America's confessions, negative sentiment towards anyone from practitioners to dragons, anthropomorphs or theriomorphs; aliens decrying a sense of oppression in the wake of their high unemployment rate as of the last few seasons – anti-Fae and anti-Human sentiments, practitioners opposing the rise of human augmentation...”
The large goat sighed. “Quite the laundry list. Would that I could point my blade at our culprit and have it be done with.”
* * *
Brenner shrugged at Tam's visibly stunned response. “Bah. I did say I was struggling as much as any other guy, but I'm not exactly starving, either. Whatever you'll take is something I'll have time enough to replace before whatever Russian or Japanese off-worlders come rolling in like they own the place.”
He scoffed. “Besides, what do they care about? There's no opportunities here according to their calculations; or else they'd still be down here trying to dodge international trade laws! We like to think of these humans as being soft, yes? Tourists worth fleecing when they leave their solar system in search of a little adventure? The truth is some of them learned, but they still haven't spent several thousand years Dealing the way our people have.”
Frank smiled at that, a fair bit of inclusive pride referring as much to his family as to Tam's wider Blueskin diaspora showing through his words.
“There is something, though. I wanted to check on you, Sophia; see if you'd been tampered with on some level over the last few weeks. You're looking well and the Tree looks reassuringly undisturbed, so I'd assume nothing out of the ordinary happened.”
He hesitated for a moment. “Aldergard reassures me that his men are prepared to protect my collection, but this is a bit of a dicey proposition for me. I created my Hall of Mirrors just shortly after Francis showed me his Shadow Gallery. I wanted to give a chance for those artifacts I'd kept out of undeserving hands to at least keep their cultural relevance – but all this did was stress-test my security protocols in the early nineties. The public deserves to see those elements of arcane history and research, and I was never comfortable with keeping my pieces as private displays for close friends. You both know my personal philosophy – I'm a little leery at the thought of considering that my nature makes me an exclusive sort. Studies in magical theory can only progress if the most research material possible is available to all – and hoarding bits and bobs away as trophies from previous heists isn't fair.
So, well... I'm a few hours short of receiving the public in Anastasius' exbibition space. I'm nervous, and I know how these things carry some sort of scent.”
The shades canted sideways a bit. “Well – no. Not so much a scent as an imprint. A suggestion of power for those already inclined to look for it. I could contain the leak in my own tower the first time it happened, but now? Out in the open? I can post Gavin and his men at every corner, I can twist the Karthian's arm so he blankets the crowd with some kind of theft-deterring thought canvas – but I'm no fool. Every security plan has its cracks.”
Three's eyes narrowed a bit. “Are you afraid my father's not going to do a good job?
- Heavens, no! Of course not, son!” quickly chided Nigel. “However, your father's just one man, he's being helped by fellow mundanes, the Tree is stirring and you know better than anyone how something as ridiculously small as a cufflink button with scraps of via clinging to it would find takers. Not every mage is comfortable with the idea of tapping into the local ley lines, and the idea of having a store of power to use on the go is appealing. I'll assume you also already know of the dangers of someone else stockpiling individually insignificant artifacts to fuel a greater project.”
Three nodded. “Yeah, someone could be wanting to fuel something big without Sophia or anyone else noticing an increase in the Tree's output. All I know is this is pretty common when you're looking to fuel a ritual for a holiday or a solstice and you don't have access to a Nexus. LaVey has a couple casual Infernalists convinced that it's worth stockpiling via for Walpurgisnacht, for instance.”
That made Nigel shift to a more thoughtful stance. “Sophia, are you sure you couldn't kiss this young idiot and convince him to come and work for me? He's got a head on his shoulders and his father's know-how, and he still insists on giving you a helping hand you decidedly don't need... Do I need to mention my dental plans again, Aidan? Or is it your retirement fund you'd like buttered up-”
The former soldier spared the dryad and invisible man a soft glare as he kept clipping excess branches. “I couldn't keep Carrie, Stinson or Kowalski alive. What makes you think I'd do better in a room filled with arcane grenades waiting to go off and a city's worth of drooling idiots just waiting to go Warlock for the sake of fuelling their pet projects? I'm not even a mage, Nigel. All I've got is Dad's understanding of via. Not any sort of sensitivity to it.”
The Voice grunted noncommittally. “You've got something else, if I'm not mistaken. Why don't you-
- Save it, okay?!” snapped Drake. “Just – fucking save it, already. I'm not playing around with this stuff just so you get to give me a paycheck and get accused of nepotism! As that's what's going to happen, you know : you in front of the Better Business Bureau, me in another courtroom and someone else accusing me of being a loose cannon. Thanks, but no thanks.”
* * *
“Thou canst keep this folder,” confirmed the Viscount, “I shall have another copy prepared. All that I may ascertain is that little can take place without sufficient power. The invisible man's exhibition would provide only part of such power.”
He was silent for a few moments. “Here are those we know to watch... Earth hosts Thomas Quint, an Infernalist of infamous reknown, as well as any number of smaller cells suspected to operate on Elysium's behalf. Gregory Rendell needs no motive, for he wields them all in his quest to waylay us. Right-wing nationalist extremism, religious terrorism from any of America's confessions, negative sentiment towards anyone from practitioners to dragons, anthropomorphs or theriomorphs; aliens decrying a sense of oppression in the wake of their high unemployment rate as of the last few seasons – anti-Fae and anti-Human sentiments, practitioners opposing the rise of human augmentation...”
The large goat sighed. “Quite the laundry list. Would that I could point my blade at our culprit and have it be done with.”
* * *
Brenner shrugged at Tam's visibly stunned response. “Bah. I did say I was struggling as much as any other guy, but I'm not exactly starving, either. Whatever you'll take is something I'll have time enough to replace before whatever Russian or Japanese off-worlders come rolling in like they own the place.”
He scoffed. “Besides, what do they care about? There's no opportunities here according to their calculations; or else they'd still be down here trying to dodge international trade laws! We like to think of these humans as being soft, yes? Tourists worth fleecing when they leave their solar system in search of a little adventure? The truth is some of them learned, but they still haven't spent several thousand years Dealing the way our people have.”
Frank smiled at that, a fair bit of inclusive pride referring as much to his family as to Tam's wider Blueskin diaspora showing through his words.
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TennyoCeres84
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Re: Chapter I - Sword and Shield
The dryad narrowed her vibrantly green eyes at the human and actually used the long, vine-like tendrils of her hair to firmly, yet gently turn his head in her and Griffin's direction. "Mr. Drake, Nigel is not attempting to employ you based on favoritism, but on talent and skill," she started. "Ever since you returned, you have been marked. Not for murder or darker reasons, but you are going to have an important role to play. Somehow, someday. It might be tomorrow, it might be twenty years from now, but your aimlessness is going to end. The world has plans for you. Shirking it off won't stop it; you will have to face what is coming for you. You're no longer the boy that can hide behind situations, you will have to be a man."
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Chapter I - Sword and Shield
Aidan's features hardened as he looked into Sophia's eyes. “Here I was thinking being a man meant being able to choose for yourself, but if I go by your assessment, I should just shut up, shove Destiny up my A-hole and say thank you. Well, no. Fuck no.”
Nigel somehow managed to convey annoyance, his cuffed shirtsleeves briefly going up. “That's not what – Oh, for Heaven's sake, boy! Sophia doesn't mind chatting it up with you, I don't mind keeping a foot in the door for you because your father's been of tremendous assistance to me for fifteen years and - ”
Something made him stop. Sophia could almost have seen the slow smile that birthed on the former thief's face. “So you're going to be petulant about it, will you? Here I was thinking Afghanistan would have curbed this rebellious streak of yours...”
He pulled out his cell phone. “I'll give Gavin a call, tell him how thoroughly overjoyed you are with the employee benefits I waved in your general direction. It's me, Ruthven down in Providence, or Smith's grinder for overacheivers, son – and I'll expect you bright and early next Monday for your briefing. For God's sake, I can understand wanting to shy away from your natural inclinations, but this? No, I'm perfectly fine with the idea of sabotaging your planned week of near-vegetation in the family couch.”
Aidan's eyes flew open. “Why would you do that, Nigel?! You'd be lying!
- I'm a thief, boy. Do you honestly think a white lie that's going to get a bright penny out of bed next Monday is going to make me lose sleep? You don't know me too well, then; and I did indirectly contribute to some of your care packages. I know you. I saw you grow up, Aidan. You work under pressure and you need constraints. I'm giving you a few.
Either you show up on Monday of your own volition, or I leave your parents' hearts to be moderately broken a few months down the line, when I'll casually drop that I forced your hand into coming to work for me.”
He briefly turned to Sophia, as if to add something to her, but a shirtsleeve quickly pointed back to the human. “Oh and, uh – check out your college fund's account, the next time you'll stop at the bank. I've emptied it, and called the campus to have them refuse any cancellations you might try to file. You'll have to use your hard-earned money to further your education.
You were stalling, Aidan. You're done stalling now. If you'd given it some thought, I wouldn't have been forced to twist your arm like this.”
Aidan would have tried for shock, but something like its definitely weaker cousin played indecisively on his face. Nigel wasn't as duplicitous as some other corporate figureheads in town, but he had a way to get people to see things his way, especially when their own good was at stake. Three had known what to expect on some level. If an optimal course of action had been agreed upon, Nigel could move mountains to preserve it – and oftentimes without waving money around like others might have.
Nigel somehow managed to convey annoyance, his cuffed shirtsleeves briefly going up. “That's not what – Oh, for Heaven's sake, boy! Sophia doesn't mind chatting it up with you, I don't mind keeping a foot in the door for you because your father's been of tremendous assistance to me for fifteen years and - ”
Something made him stop. Sophia could almost have seen the slow smile that birthed on the former thief's face. “So you're going to be petulant about it, will you? Here I was thinking Afghanistan would have curbed this rebellious streak of yours...”
He pulled out his cell phone. “I'll give Gavin a call, tell him how thoroughly overjoyed you are with the employee benefits I waved in your general direction. It's me, Ruthven down in Providence, or Smith's grinder for overacheivers, son – and I'll expect you bright and early next Monday for your briefing. For God's sake, I can understand wanting to shy away from your natural inclinations, but this? No, I'm perfectly fine with the idea of sabotaging your planned week of near-vegetation in the family couch.”
Aidan's eyes flew open. “Why would you do that, Nigel?! You'd be lying!
- I'm a thief, boy. Do you honestly think a white lie that's going to get a bright penny out of bed next Monday is going to make me lose sleep? You don't know me too well, then; and I did indirectly contribute to some of your care packages. I know you. I saw you grow up, Aidan. You work under pressure and you need constraints. I'm giving you a few.
Either you show up on Monday of your own volition, or I leave your parents' hearts to be moderately broken a few months down the line, when I'll casually drop that I forced your hand into coming to work for me.”
He briefly turned to Sophia, as if to add something to her, but a shirtsleeve quickly pointed back to the human. “Oh and, uh – check out your college fund's account, the next time you'll stop at the bank. I've emptied it, and called the campus to have them refuse any cancellations you might try to file. You'll have to use your hard-earned money to further your education.
You were stalling, Aidan. You're done stalling now. If you'd given it some thought, I wouldn't have been forced to twist your arm like this.”
Aidan would have tried for shock, but something like its definitely weaker cousin played indecisively on his face. Nigel wasn't as duplicitous as some other corporate figureheads in town, but he had a way to get people to see things his way, especially when their own good was at stake. Three had known what to expect on some level. If an optimal course of action had been agreed upon, Nigel could move mountains to preserve it – and oftentimes without waving money around like others might have.
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Karl the Mad
- Posts: 1260
- Joined: Wed Jan 16, 2013 4:27 am
- Location: Oregon
Re: Chapter I - Sword and Shield
Katherine didn't reply for a few moments, lost in thought as she was. "I don't think it's Rendell, but we'd be foolish to ignore him," she mused aloud. She looked up and seemed to change the subject. "You would, of course, recall the Second World War, yes?"
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IamLEAM1983
- Site Admin
- Posts: 3710
- Joined: Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:54 am
- Location: Quebec, Canada
Re: Chapter I - Sword and Shield
The gruff apparently tried for more humour. Potentially.
“I doth possess some inkling of such a conflict... A man with a preposterous moustache was involved.”
Something in his posture managed to make it clear he was mocking the sense of power or wisdom mortals tended to attribute to Wyldfae of his stature. Of course he remembered World War Two. However, his perspective on it probably wouldn't completely match that of a mortal veteran – for those that hadn't kicked the bucket yet – or long-lived ones.
“I doth possess some inkling of such a conflict... A man with a preposterous moustache was involved.”
Something in his posture managed to make it clear he was mocking the sense of power or wisdom mortals tended to attribute to Wyldfae of his stature. Of course he remembered World War Two. However, his perspective on it probably wouldn't completely match that of a mortal veteran – for those that hadn't kicked the bucket yet – or long-lived ones.