((the following is written with much thanks and collaboration with the player of Jameson Taeros))
"Oh Jameson, must you go so soon?"
Jameson Taeros curled a charming smile to the Miqo'te dancer who wiggled on his lap. "Alas, beautiful. Business does not wait." He gently uncoiled her pink tail from around his leg, feigning an apologetic frown for the girl's benefit. He had not bothered to learn her name; she and two others served well as a distraction for the guests he entertained that evening at the Golden Bazaar. The transactions went as predicted. He knew his employers would be pleased with the profitable agreements that were made this eve.
Gently setting the pouting dancer to the side, he rose and nodded to those still indulging in the company and the fine wine at the table. They mumbled some semblance of thanks as he bid them farewell, and James noted their glazed eyes and flushed faces. This was a good thing; clouded minds became negligent of the details in favor of pleasures after all, and he attributed more than a few successes to lascivious loins. The men paid him no mind as he bowed, for they saw him as a mere subordinate to the heads of the Syndicate. It was his employer they sought to gain favors with, not him. That suited Jameson just fine. He only paused at the door to retrieve his cloak, for the desert skies looked to drench the travelers venturing into the roads that night.
Stepping outside, he wrapped the cloak about him. Leaves and fliers were tossed haphazardly throughout the bazaar by the stormy winds. His mind was already going over the meetings that would await him in Ul'dah later that evening; his Monetarist employers had a couple of new hires for his perusal.
Alabrous Tane, a man skilled at forgery and obtaining the right papers from the right people for the wrong reasons, definitely could be of use. Tane was grudgingly recommended to him by a Highlander bard named Callae, who had just won the favor of one of his employers with her charms and swaying hips. (As well as her skill with whips; training chocobos was only one of her talents in that regard.) Despite her sordid connections with the Ala Mhigan Resistance--a fact that Jameson discovered when he vetted her--his employer elected to forgive such inconvenient details when given the right incentive. In Callae's case, she provided just the right amount of leg, sass, and smile. James reminded himself to keep a careful eye on her from the moment she was hired.
But the bard had already provided something useful. If it wasn't for her, James wondered if Tane would have been considered at all. The man wore his lewd nature upon him like a gaudy piece of jewelry, and his proclivity towards losing large sums of money whilst gambling made him somewhat of a risky investment. Still, knowing the right people could carry a man far in the Jewel, and Tane at least seemed to have that going for him--even if he too had somewhat of a distant past with the Ala Mhigan Resistance. But even more than Callae, Tane seemed eager deny that that part of his past ever existed.
Then there was the matter of his other employer. James often thought of her when subjects like the Resistance rose in his mind. But he had not heard from the silver-haired woman in almost a cycle. She had always preferred to keep their connection out of the public eye. He had known the woman since before the Calamity, years ago when she escaped from her home and her family to find a new haven and a new purpose within the Empire. Jameson marveled at how their positions had reversed since that day, that now he answered to her. He no longer saw the darkness in her violet eyes--those short glimpses of the shattered woman she had been beneath the surface.
Now all that remained was a cold and calculating scientist, one whose interests lay in manipulating people’s thoughts, their will...their very being.
Communication with her had gone silent, as it sometimes tended to, but it had now been over a cycle--the longest span of silence yet. She never did call upon him often, granted, and a part of him preferred it that way. He had his own life and business to conduct, after all, far away from whatever she wanted. Or the Empire. Serving Lolorito and the interest of the Syndicate had given him a new path in life, one that he did not expect when it all began, and now he thrived in this many-faceted role.
Would he prefer that she never contact him at all? He had pondered that on nights where he found himself restless. But he did not wonder for too long; there were things to get done, and far too many pieces to move on the board. The Syndicate’s work was never done. The cog of the wheel that turned beneath Ul’dah never stopped for anyone.
Drawing the hood over his head, Jameson began to make his way across the courtyard. It was mostly deserted. The rainy gusts would usually have the vendors scrambling to cover their wares with protective canvas, but none were at their stands. Even the chocobo stables were closed. Odd...
He narrowed his eyes, spotting a singular figure walking toward him, with a beggar tray in hand. The man had a tattered hood about him, and mumbled something about food and gil.
“I have nothing to spare, dear man.†Jameson maintained his casual stance, waving the man off. But his attention never left him.
The beggar continued to advance toward him, holding out his bowl. “Just a gil to spare.†As he extended his hand, Jameson noted the empty bowl, but the hand that held it was free of grime and dirt, and his fingernails were well trimmed.
Jameson stepped back once as the bowl was thrust toward his chest. The beggar’s other hand had disappeared into the tattered robe, so it was no surprise when it shot back out, jabbing a sharp blade intended for Jameson's abdomen.
What he did not expect was two more shadowy figures peeling away from the building behind him.
The Night Life
"Oh Jameson, must you go so soon?"
Jameson Taeros curled a charming smile to the Miqo'te dancer who wiggled on his lap. "Alas, beautiful. Business does not wait." He gently uncoiled her pink tail from around his leg, feigning an apologetic frown for the girl's benefit. He had not bothered to learn her name; she and two others served well as a distraction for the guests he entertained that evening at the Golden Bazaar. The transactions went as predicted. He knew his employers would be pleased with the profitable agreements that were made this eve.
Gently setting the pouting dancer to the side, he rose and nodded to those still indulging in the company and the fine wine at the table. They mumbled some semblance of thanks as he bid them farewell, and James noted their glazed eyes and flushed faces. This was a good thing; clouded minds became negligent of the details in favor of pleasures after all, and he attributed more than a few successes to lascivious loins. The men paid him no mind as he bowed, for they saw him as a mere subordinate to the heads of the Syndicate. It was his employer they sought to gain favors with, not him. That suited Jameson just fine. He only paused at the door to retrieve his cloak, for the desert skies looked to drench the travelers venturing into the roads that night.
Stepping outside, he wrapped the cloak about him. Leaves and fliers were tossed haphazardly throughout the bazaar by the stormy winds. His mind was already going over the meetings that would await him in Ul'dah later that evening; his Monetarist employers had a couple of new hires for his perusal.
Alabrous Tane, a man skilled at forgery and obtaining the right papers from the right people for the wrong reasons, definitely could be of use. Tane was grudgingly recommended to him by a Highlander bard named Callae, who had just won the favor of one of his employers with her charms and swaying hips. (As well as her skill with whips; training chocobos was only one of her talents in that regard.) Despite her sordid connections with the Ala Mhigan Resistance--a fact that Jameson discovered when he vetted her--his employer elected to forgive such inconvenient details when given the right incentive. In Callae's case, she provided just the right amount of leg, sass, and smile. James reminded himself to keep a careful eye on her from the moment she was hired.
But the bard had already provided something useful. If it wasn't for her, James wondered if Tane would have been considered at all. The man wore his lewd nature upon him like a gaudy piece of jewelry, and his proclivity towards losing large sums of money whilst gambling made him somewhat of a risky investment. Still, knowing the right people could carry a man far in the Jewel, and Tane at least seemed to have that going for him--even if he too had somewhat of a distant past with the Ala Mhigan Resistance. But even more than Callae, Tane seemed eager deny that that part of his past ever existed.
Then there was the matter of his other employer. James often thought of her when subjects like the Resistance rose in his mind. But he had not heard from the silver-haired woman in almost a cycle. She had always preferred to keep their connection out of the public eye. He had known the woman since before the Calamity, years ago when she escaped from her home and her family to find a new haven and a new purpose within the Empire. Jameson marveled at how their positions had reversed since that day, that now he answered to her. He no longer saw the darkness in her violet eyes--those short glimpses of the shattered woman she had been beneath the surface.
Now all that remained was a cold and calculating scientist, one whose interests lay in manipulating people’s thoughts, their will...their very being.
Communication with her had gone silent, as it sometimes tended to, but it had now been over a cycle--the longest span of silence yet. She never did call upon him often, granted, and a part of him preferred it that way. He had his own life and business to conduct, after all, far away from whatever she wanted. Or the Empire. Serving Lolorito and the interest of the Syndicate had given him a new path in life, one that he did not expect when it all began, and now he thrived in this many-faceted role.
Would he prefer that she never contact him at all? He had pondered that on nights where he found himself restless. But he did not wonder for too long; there were things to get done, and far too many pieces to move on the board. The Syndicate’s work was never done. The cog of the wheel that turned beneath Ul’dah never stopped for anyone.
Drawing the hood over his head, Jameson began to make his way across the courtyard. It was mostly deserted. The rainy gusts would usually have the vendors scrambling to cover their wares with protective canvas, but none were at their stands. Even the chocobo stables were closed. Odd...
He narrowed his eyes, spotting a singular figure walking toward him, with a beggar tray in hand. The man had a tattered hood about him, and mumbled something about food and gil.
“I have nothing to spare, dear man.†Jameson maintained his casual stance, waving the man off. But his attention never left him.
The beggar continued to advance toward him, holding out his bowl. “Just a gil to spare.†As he extended his hand, Jameson noted the empty bowl, but the hand that held it was free of grime and dirt, and his fingernails were well trimmed.
Jameson stepped back once as the bowl was thrust toward his chest. The beggar’s other hand had disappeared into the tattered robe, so it was no surprise when it shot back out, jabbing a sharp blade intended for Jameson's abdomen.
What he did not expect was two more shadowy figures peeling away from the building behind him.
