It had taken more inquiry and gil than he would've preferred to spend on such a matter, especially since it required a more...delicate touch than simply appearing in his armor. Fortunately, the call of gil and a few well placed, but truly spoken words found Martiallais knocking on a door not too far from the edge of the Brume. Knocking gently at the door in the pattern he'd been instructed, he exhaled silently, watching the puff of cool breath slowly disappear.
The door opened partly, allowing half a face to peek out before the eyes scanned him, and upon noting the hint of armor beneath his cloak the door slammed shut just as quickly.
In truth, it was nearly the reaction he expected. Exhaling once more, he knocked again this time leaning in closer to the door as he spoke calmly. "Madam, open the door." While he didn't enjoy playing on the fear his kind often invoked in the area residents, he assumed it would come to such. "I am Martiallais Heuloix, knight of Ishgard and need to speak with you regarding an investigation of murder."
Leaving the rest of his the usual line of threats unspoken, the duskwight remained patient, giving a look around before the door finally opened. Stepping within, he bowed his head in thanks, looking around as a rather tall Elezen woman closed the door and stood staring a pair of holes into the knight's armor. Bowing his head, he smiled politely. "Forgive the sudden interruption, as I understand it you keep quite busy here, Madam Irie."
"That I do. Someone has to care for those none do. So by all means Ser Knight, keep your business brief. What would the high and mighty Holy See do here other than bring trouble to mine doorstep?"
Lifting a brow at her words, Martiallais gave a soft exhale. She was, as near he could tell, something of an older Elezen, her hair still a vibrant black despite the streaks of grey interspersed here and there. Clearing his throat, he nodded once. "Well then, on to business. I'm here to speak with you regarding a young woman named Martine. She was a servant of the Baihond family and-"
"And pregnant," she cut in, still glaring at the clearly confused knight. With a sigh that hid none of her annoyance, she elaborated. "Of course you wouldn't know, those who live with heads in the clouds can hardly be bothered with the reality here on the ground." Turning away from him Irie strode back through the house, passing tables cluttered with instruments, crimson stained gloves, and even containers holding parts suspended in liquid.
"Madam Irie, if you would clarify mayhaps? Lady Ezelle said you may be able to help and aid you can lend would be appreciated."
Turning into a makeshift office, she exhaled, taking her seat in a chair resting behind a cluttered but largely whole desk. "Alright. I will help you but only if you help me." After a moment, her tone lighted, ever so slightly as she motioned to the empty chair before her, the rather expressionless look she'd worn until this point changing into a smile. "Please step into my office and have a seat. Doctor Bresson will see you now."
Having remained in the doorway, Martiallais peered inside then gave a shrug, walking in to take a seat before pushing the door closed. "Alright, I'm listening."
The door opened partly, allowing half a face to peek out before the eyes scanned him, and upon noting the hint of armor beneath his cloak the door slammed shut just as quickly.
In truth, it was nearly the reaction he expected. Exhaling once more, he knocked again this time leaning in closer to the door as he spoke calmly. "Madam, open the door." While he didn't enjoy playing on the fear his kind often invoked in the area residents, he assumed it would come to such. "I am Martiallais Heuloix, knight of Ishgard and need to speak with you regarding an investigation of murder."
Leaving the rest of his the usual line of threats unspoken, the duskwight remained patient, giving a look around before the door finally opened. Stepping within, he bowed his head in thanks, looking around as a rather tall Elezen woman closed the door and stood staring a pair of holes into the knight's armor. Bowing his head, he smiled politely. "Forgive the sudden interruption, as I understand it you keep quite busy here, Madam Irie."
"That I do. Someone has to care for those none do. So by all means Ser Knight, keep your business brief. What would the high and mighty Holy See do here other than bring trouble to mine doorstep?"
Lifting a brow at her words, Martiallais gave a soft exhale. She was, as near he could tell, something of an older Elezen, her hair still a vibrant black despite the streaks of grey interspersed here and there. Clearing his throat, he nodded once. "Well then, on to business. I'm here to speak with you regarding a young woman named Martine. She was a servant of the Baihond family and-"
"And pregnant," she cut in, still glaring at the clearly confused knight. With a sigh that hid none of her annoyance, she elaborated. "Of course you wouldn't know, those who live with heads in the clouds can hardly be bothered with the reality here on the ground." Turning away from him Irie strode back through the house, passing tables cluttered with instruments, crimson stained gloves, and even containers holding parts suspended in liquid.
"Madam Irie, if you would clarify mayhaps? Lady Ezelle said you may be able to help and aid you can lend would be appreciated."
Turning into a makeshift office, she exhaled, taking her seat in a chair resting behind a cluttered but largely whole desk. "Alright. I will help you but only if you help me." After a moment, her tone lighted, ever so slightly as she motioned to the empty chair before her, the rather expressionless look she'd worn until this point changing into a smile. "Please step into my office and have a seat. Doctor Bresson will see you now."
Having remained in the doorway, Martiallais peered inside then gave a shrug, walking in to take a seat before pushing the door closed. "Alright, I'm listening."
Martiallais Heuloix - Duty. Honor. Faith.
Armand Tremaux - Justice, like lightning.
"We're all snowflakes in a great blizzard." - Virara 2017
Armand Tremaux - Justice, like lightning.
"We're all snowflakes in a great blizzard." - Virara 2017
