Hydaelyn Role-Players

Full Version: Diary of a Red-Headed Drug-smuggling Widower
You're currently viewing a stripped down version of our content. View the full version with proper formatting.
Pages: 1 2
ENTRY 17

"They'll never agree to this and your insane for asking." Frandrin snorted, eyeing me across the table as if I was a nutter.  We were sitting on the porch of his manor as he ate a fine breakfast.  I was abstaining seeing as I wasn't above the idea of him trying to have me poisoned for black mailing him.  "I mean, the balls on you for coming here and-"

"Frandrin." I interjected, sniffing and giving a flat stare.  "Anyone's balls are bigger than yours.  You're a lalafel.  But that has nothing to do with the fact that I'm sitting here discussing with you the possibility of-"

"You being a Moniterist is the most asinine and idiotic-"

"Yet advantageous proposition-" I cut in.

"For yourself!" Frandrin exploded as he threw up his arms.  "Besides you don't know the first damn thing about politics!"

"I know more about the tax codes and import laws of every city-state and nation on either side of the sea than you.  And I'm willing to bet I could name of every trade deal Ul'dah currently has before you could finish that meal." I answered quickly.

"Only because you exploit systems people like me set up to orderly run this city and it's-" Frandrin started.

"I'm sorry, I recall you hiring me on many occasions to get around the laws you and your cohorts implemented in the first place." I grunted, picking my nose.  Frandrin stared at me in disgust.

"So why the interest in this at all?" the Moniterist asked incredulously.

"Simple." I answered.  "Gives me legitimacy and a chance to influence the process making.  And, a chance to find ways to squeezing others inside this city."

"So this is a means to apply pressure to your rivals."  Frandrin spoke slowly.

"It's self-serving." I confessed with a shrug.  "But what have you got to lose?  You've just lost an ally and since its on charges of treason, you can't use your clout to get him out, now can you?  And right now, you need someone with connections like mine."

Frandrin interlaced his fingers after putting his knife and fork down.

"You can go to hell, Tray." Frandrin's face was a mask of contempt.  "A back water, whore-born pleb like yourself will never, ever have the right to call themself a Moniterist.  And I'd prefer to see Ul'dah burn before I do anything to help you become one.  You're a plague.  I'm well aware of your little fingers in all the pies.  And I'm done.  You've been blackmailing for moons, and suddenly want my help in a bid to rise above your station?"

Frandrin shook his head.

"Never.  You've climbed as high as you can, little cat.  It's time to fall back to earth."

I leaned back in my chair and flared my nostrils.

"And how much of my gil is flowing into the Moniterist coffers?" I replied angrily.  "I didn't hear you and your fellows complaining when I paid you all for-"

"You pay to play, Tray." Frandrin snorted.  "But so do others.  The difference between us and people like you is that, you all pay -us-.  And you'll never be us, getting paid to watch you fools kill each other over a few blocks of turf or the best sea lane.  That's real power."

"Is it?  Even Torgi seems to have been subject to the law." I said darkly.  Frandrin clenched his fists as I mentioned his fellow Garlean sympathizer now in chains.

"You're really a fool.  You come here, seeking my help to get in with us and then you make veiled threats against me when you don't get your way.  You're just a hot-head without any real plan.  Get the fuck out of my home and never come back."

I glared at the little lalafel as I rose to my feet.

"I could destroy you.  With-"

"And I you." the lalafel warned.

"How's that?" I snorted.  "I have more allies here than you think I-"

"One more word out of that smart mouth of yours." Frandrin spoke coldly, eyeing me with a cold, intense hatred. "And your son doesn't see his next birthday."

Damn me, Dairy, I let that hit me.  I froze right up and let Frandrin know he had me.

"Oh, don't like that, do we?" Frandrin cooed ominously.  "I've been busy too, Tray.  Oh I've been so eager to unleash this.  You have tonight to get every document you have on me and my dealings with the Garleans into my possession or your boy gets a jackboot to his skull." 

"You son of a-" I started, Frandrin pulled out a small revolver and pointed it at me.  A lalafel with a tiny pistol looks comical.  I still want to kill him though.

"Give me a fucking reason, Tray." Frandrin narrowed his eyes.  "You will produce those documents and bring them to the Golden Bazaar tomorrow night so my agent can burn them.  Then you're going to get out of Uldah. Forever.  Or I'll see to it you, and everyone who helps you, and your son, all end up in Thal's kingdom.  Do. I Make. Myself. Clear."

I was shaking, both in fear and seething hatred.  My fists were clenched and a snarl was in my throat.

"Oh please, stop with the aggressive posturing." Frandrin said with a ruthless laugh.  "We both know you've only killed one person in your life and won't do it again.  You couldn't even kill Sun'ra, and that man humiliated you to no end.  Get out before you make a bigger fool of yourself.  You only have till tomorrow so best get busy."

Frandrin gave me the most cruel smile I've ever seen.  I snarled once more and then turned and stormed out and down the street.

He had me.  If he actually knew where my son was and...no he was bluffing he couldn't. Limsa wasn't in his control...  But if he had gone outside the structures of law...gods what if he had a Garlean assassin waiting to do the deed! 

I swore over and over.

Y'Mara had been right.  This -had- been a stupid idea.  Me, a Moniterist.  How could I have been so naive to think it would work. I...

No...Frandrin wasn't my only option.   There was others after all.  Others who I could work.    But first I had to deal with Frandrin.  His threat was very real and I'd have to play along for now.  Those documents I...but once he gets them he might kill me anyhow...

The bastard...he played his move well.  I just needed to out play him now.

Easier written than said, dear Diary. Easier written than said.
Pages: 1 2