Coatleque

You do raise a valid concern. The only thing I could suggest in this case is to try your best to ignore spoilers, or seclude yourself away. As more and more people do finish the MSQ up to the current content, the majority of people are going to begin accepting the events as having passed. That, unfortunately, is the price of role-play in an MMO format.

The whole point of role-playing within a specific world is that your character is bound by the laws, lore, and events that shape that world. Even though many people do not role-play as a Warrior of Light, their characters reactions are still shaped by major events in the world around them. It's an organic reaction that makes our individual stories that much more believable/immersive.

... You asked for it.

Been a while since I did this. Could not resist.

[align=center] "I was afraid..." "Of what, precisely?" "That you were as hard-hearted as I was told." [/align] Coatleque stepped out of the lift with a wary sigh. Glancing back to it just briefly, she did not trust it since that day she had been stuck with Miss Primrose half-way. Surveying the lounge then, she noted it was at its usual emptiness which seemed to put her at ease. So few were the evenings she and hers could spend in quiet respite. She crossed the room with slow but deliberate steps to find Jameson sitting quietly at his usual table. His latest 'adornment' stood stoically silent off to the side with arms crossed. Coatleque only peered at the armored sentinel as she approached the table and Jameson rose with a smile. He quickly rounded the table to her. "There is a familiar dress, no?" he said as he bussed her on the cheek. She had chosen to wear her pink dress this evening - one that Master Vann had supplied her half in jest so she could match his trademark color if she so desired. It had left such an impression on Taeros that she decided it would fit such an occasion as tonight. While she bristled at his touch she did not recoil or shy away from it. A hastily scrawled (in her opinion) letter was not a fitting apology after all. His acknowledgement of her choice of garb was a good start, however, and she managed a smile. "It has been some time since I wore it, yes." "You're late" Jameson murmured, though not too harshly. "How are you feeling? "I am." She replied as her head dipped. "Forgive my tardiness. I was delayed in the street." "Duty called, did it?" He moved around to pull her chair from the table to which she promptly took her seat. Her eyes did not leave him for a moment and his casual, business-like tone served only to call forefront the reason for this invitation. "More like a passing stranger. And is that genuine concern for my well-being? I am finding it hard to tell lately." Her expression remained neutral throughout. Jameson rounded the table once more to his own chair to sit. A bottle of wine had already been waiting with two glasses off to the side. He set right to the task of uncorking it and pouring for them both. "I suppose an apology is in order. I lost my temper." he said as he slid a glass across the table to her. "Consider this my way of saying I am sorry. Truly. Matters have... pressed me of late. I oft feel beset." Coatleque reached forward hesitantly to take her glass. She remained quiet for a good while just staring at the red liquid before finally taking a sip. She tossed another glance to the armed escort and sighed. "Yet you listen to none of my advice." She looked up to him then, studying his eyes from across the table. Measuring the lines in their corners, the weary circles below that were not present even a moon ago. "None? Now you're just being dramatic." He took his own sip and tilted his head. Holding aloft the glass for a moment he looked to be considering the vintage. "I listen to all of your advice. I heed some of it." Coatleque scoffed. "Far be it from me to care about the man I bed down with." Her eyes rolled off to the side as she glared at the silent guard once more. The armored man did not move or even acknowledge her presence. Perhaps it was that second ideal which irked her even more. Jameson's voice lowered to a murmur. "You should care more that I have friends spilling blood in the street, with no seeming end to the mayhem. Our beloved Sultana does nothing but hide away in her manse. The Brass Blades are less-than useless. The Flames..." His face twisted between disgust and annoyance. "The Flames seem to think I am the cause of Ul'dah's troubles. At least one does. If not more." Her attention turned back to him with a tilt of her head. "One?" The question was waved off dismissively. "I have little and less time for fools." he continued. "But if they concentrated more on ending murder sprees and less on ending graft and corruption, we would all sleep better." Coalteque took a slow breath before another sip of wine. She pursed her lips as the glass was replaced on the table, her mood not improving much. "Of that we agree." A shadow seemed to fall across the table as tempers on both sides of the table slowly simmered. It was Jameson who finally inclined his head and spoke up, rather pointedly. "You seem to want something. Tell me what it is, and it is yours." She peered at him, caught quite off-guard from the sudden demand. "I have been lax in my gift-giving of late.", he added. "But I believe I shall see a windfall very soon. So ask and it is yours." "What I want?" She asked softly. "Yes." The question had more merit than he perhaps thought, and she found it hard to look him in the eyes. Her gaze wandered to the side and out towards the landing as the next airship began to depart. The last glow of the sunset casting orange streaks across the clouds of the night sky beyond. "You have given me all I could ever want...", she began. "I merely wish to meet with your approval." The answer was obviously not one he expected. Not here and now, at least. He gave her a bland and unbelieving look but offered no objection. "So... this..." He said even as he gestured all around. To the food, her dress, the extravagance of the lounge that surrounded them. "... is all you could want." The words fell not as a question but of an unimpressed observation. She turned to face him then with a small shake of her head. "... there is more to our lives than the material, is there not?" Her voice had an almost imploring tone to it, but such emotion was lost beneath the creaking of armor as Jameson's man turned to face a crowed which had gathered by the ticket booth. "Of course. You did not attain your personal goals simply for love of coin. But whenever I praise you, you are quick to demur." "I did what I must to survive. You know that.", she rebuked him quickly. "Yes." He began with a shrug and slowly narrowing eyes. "But we've known that. I would prefer if you simply forgot that and forged ahead." "I do not have this... this will that drives you. But to stand..." her voice began to trail off as if to a daydream. "To stand with one who does, that is my place." Jameson leaned forward then. "Is it? Is that your place?" His voice had taken on a familiar hiss of annoyance, anger even. "If I wanted a--" "As opposed to.. to.. to what?" she interrupted. "You wish that I run off and conquer Eorzea with you? Is that it?!" He leaned back again but his displeasure was clear to her. She might have been concerned if not for the gathered crowed behind them. Few others knew his temper now as she did. Still, the weariness behind her own words was evident. Jameson looked past her to the gathering. "This used to be a fine secret. Less so these days it seems." The attempted change of topic did not escape her and her head shook slowly. "I will never be more than your paramour, will I?" she asked with a twinge of sadness. "I asked you once, out of curiosity," He continued, apparently ignoring her concerns, "how you attained your current position. You seemed... stumped, to put it lightly." Coatleque crossed her arms and huffed. "Stumped, or amazed." she replied curtly. "I'm not certain you aspire to more than... a mere guard's commander. Or a paramour." The distaste behind his own words brought forth a stare. She chewed the inside of her lip. "Now you mock me?" "At one time," he murmured, "I thought we were alike. It seems less so." He fiddled with his napkin as the waiter arrived to take their orders. Salmon and fresh greens for him, steak and bitter herbs for her. As the waiter walked off the sudden and feigned politeness of the two turned back to shared anger as they stared each other down from across the table. She had never openly defied him in such a manner. "After all I have done to prove myself to you?" She nearly spat at him. "Do not mistake loyalty for drive. Or purpose. I hold you to a higher law than the common filth we both rose from. I expect greatness." The last jab was all she could bear for the night. Her brows furrowed in anger and her jaw clenched. "Then perhaps I should apologize for delivering mediocrity into your cells!" Her arms had been crossed just then as her displeasure was evident. "Now there is some fire!" Jameson exclaimed suddenly. "You so rarely show it these days. It is as though a black cloud hangs over your head and follows in your wake. Yet rare do I see it spark to lightning." The woman had no reply as she swirled her glass. He watched her with his amber gaze, his eyes flashing as a Brass Blade captain approached the table to address him. But tonight he would have no distractions from her. After it was clear the newcomer was to be ignored, the Blade captain instead moved aside to address the armed guard. A scroll was passed between the two before the Blade turned to leave. "... Where is Roen.", Coatleque said flatly. It was more of a demand than a question. "Is that your truest desire? My gift? An answer to your question?" His feint did little to subside her anger. "I have answered your little question already. What you do with it is up to your interpretation." "You are still cross with me. This will not do. Roen has of late earned my displeasure and is...not comfortable. But she remains as healthy as any might in her circumstances. She has been placed in some of the lower cells. I have denied her visitation." "Will it not do? Will it not? For a moment there I thought you preferred seeing me riled up. That I had some fire which appea..." her complaint halted as Jameson continued. She sat back in her chair then and her anger seemed to subside. Only slightly. "I will of course allow you visitation. If that is your desire." The woman only sighed. "Does she plague you so?" He asked softly, his voice lowering then. "The guilt?" "She does not. But you do, lately.", Coatleque admitted. "And guilt? She has abetted a murderer." Jameson shrugged. "But you were close. You have a moral compass. I would not lay abed with a cretin of low morality." Coatleque shook her head. "I feel no guilt at her being kept away. I wish I had used other methods than betrayal, but that is mine own guilt." "Very well." "I have a lead now, a name to follow-up on in Revenant's Toll. I should like to see her before I leave. And to be sure you will remain safe whilst I am gone." "She is convinced Lazarov has given up his dreams of conquest and... 'city rehabilitation.'", he remarked before furrowing his brows. "When are you leaving?" Coatleque inclined her head to the side curiously. "Did I not tell you the same before? I spoke with him. He sounded quite... mad, if his voice was any indication. And that would depend on how soon we want this pirate locked away." "You should not go alone." he said with a scowl. "Oh?", she snorted. "Is that genuine concern once more?" Jameson made a face at that. "Really, this drama is beneath you. Stop, for both our sakes." All at once she felt like a spoiled little girl who was being ornery for not getting her way. She stared back at him incredulously as if she should say something, fight against him. Then her head bowed. Closing her eyes and taking one long, slow breath she murmured an apology. "I am sorry." He nodded. "You are not the only one feeling the effects lately." "Apology accepted. I hope you will accept mine." It was her turn to nod then. Jameson opened his mouth as if to say more, but was interrupted just then as the waiter arrived with their food. A plate was set before each of them and the servant waited for brief approval before withdrawing to the kitchens again. Once the man was out of earshot, Coatleque turned her attention to the armored Sentinel who stood quietly by Jameson's side. "What was that business a moment ago?" The figure turned slightly to look in her direction. Jameson glanced to him as well, then back to her. "I'm afraid Feres is not very talkative." The guard then turned to his Lord. "So I have seen. Whatever it is, if it is important..." She waved her hand dismissively before taking up her utensils to begin eating. "Was it?" Jameson asked him pointedly. To that a hand reached out to pass along the scroll which Jameson received and promptly opened. He read it over then murmured half to himself. "The first good news I've received all day." Looking up with a smile he quickly added, "Next to your accepting my apology, of course." She stopped eating for a moment at that admission. "Out with it then." Her eyes half closed. "Unless of course I am failing to gain your trust once more..." "You're doing it again, dear..." Jameson replied almost in warning. To that she held her peace and focused on her meal. "A friend of mine. His... 'son' was safely seen away. We were concerned for the boy's well-being." "Well, that is good news." she noted. "Yes. Algincourt. Do you know them?" The name forced her to take pause as she recalled a conversation she overheard from the back of his office some weeks ago. "I... may have seen the name before. Nobody I know of course." "Ah. Well, my concern was... ill-founded, it seems. All is well. Would that I could say the same for others. One bit of news that should bring me cheer is actually disconcerting." "James...", she interrupted his thought. "Tell me you are being careful. And not just with..." She gestured to the armed man off to the side. "Squeaky over there. This is becoming serious." "I am always careful." He replied with a smile before turning his attention to the guard. "Do you hear that? My paramour thinks your armor could use some management. See that is taken care of before first light." The guard nodded silently in reply, excepting a few more creaks from the grinding of metal plates against one another. "Perhaps." Coatleque agreed halfheartedly. "It reminds me of that relic you had at the back of your room." She had often glimpsed the suit of armor standing silently in the rear of his office, but till now had not brought it up. A used-looking and gaudy mockery of a statue that never quite fit the decor of the room. She was almost glad it had been moved. Jameson was quiet. He blinked once, and may have even been caught off guard at her words. For a moment he looked angry even, then less. Coatleque noticed the change of his demeanor and tilted her head with an amused expression at having taken the upper hand for once, before taking up her glass to drink again. "It is." he said quietly, and at length. "It was... a part of the arrangement. It is some of the finest plate in Ul'dah. I certainly don't use it as much, if at all. It would seem a shame to waste." "Aaah, finer than mine? Hmm?" She was almost taunting him now, and enjoying it. He toyed with the food in front of him. "In some ways, yes. Yours allows greater range of movement, but that suit has a few surprises of its own." She rolled her eyes as her playful tone had been missed entirely. "Yes... I was well versed by Vandol Morn on the many surprises to be had while in armor." That raised an eyebrow. "Should I assume half of those suggestions were vulgar?" She smirked. "Only half? You appraise him much too low." He laughed. Seeing him relax then put her at more ease. He needed this, in her estimation, and now she felt all the more foolish for having darkened the mood with her own selfish tantrum. "No, truly, I think I have appraised him quite on-the-mark." He continued. "At least in most respects. The girl he travels with, did they seem... close?" Coatleque set her utensils down then. "In some ways, yes. T'was not my place to pry." She glanced at his barely touched portion. "You are... not hungry tonight?" He shrugged. "It may not be your... 'place'... but information is power. You should know if a man is willing to die for the woman he lays with. At least I assume he lays with her. Unless he is a cuckold." Whether it was his intention or not, the notion of dying for loved ones stood out more in her mind than anything else he had said so far. She found herself blushing at him for lack of any other response to the rest of his statement. Meanwhile he slowly began to eat finally, more over her concern than actual hunger. "Love need not always be so... fatalistic." she said at length. "Though in my experience..." Her words trailed off just then, not wanting to relive her own experiences just now. "I am not speaking of love, I am speaking of loyalty." He said, breaking her train of thought. "What if I wish to buy one mercenary and not the other? They were quick enough to jump and put an end to... unfortunate Dirk." He made a face then. "I simply want to know your impression of them." Coatleque cleared her throat at the remembrance. "Yes, Dirk... well. It is in my experience that those two are inseparable. They are a pair and refuse to work apart. Or with others, in most cases, as you may remember when they dragged me to you." As she spoke the Brass Blade Captain returned and beckoned to the armored guard, who left Jameson's side to see what news was to be delivered now. Her gaze followed the man as he walked past. Jameson smirked at her. "I do recall they were... let's call them rough-and-tumble." She turned back to him. "In either case, I will not run off to Mor Dhona alone." There was a pleased nod in return. "Ah. Who will you have in your company?" "I will assume Miss Callae would be interested. And Ser Tarry. That should be enough to handle one merchant. Alas, I believe Madam Grimsong will be quite busy at the time." Jameson pursed his lips. "Should be. Always be wary of guards. Especially these days. Though I trust Brynnalia has tricks aplenty up her sleeves." His brow furrowed in thought. "Busy? doing what?" She could only smirk at his reaction. "Planting flowers for all I know. Her business is not mine, and I am better off for that." He did not reply but his expression was one of agreement. He leaned back and pushed his plate forward signalling that he was finished, the plate still half-full at the time. "But before that... Miss Denieth. We should speak to her together about this list." Jameson canted his head. "Do you think she would be more or less receptive in your presence? She does feel you betrayed her." "She knows I was going to use the linkpearl.. She should know the results. And... I would at least like to see her." The concern was genuine. Thoughts of Roen had been plaguing her lately. Despite all that had happened, she never wished ill on her friend. And she did promise to check on her when able. "The Blades told me she was moved, but nobody would say where." Jameson shrugged. "That was purposeful, but if it would... help you alleviate this misconception that I do not trust you, then by all means. I care little for her umbrage if the sight of you causes her to bristle." She noded once. "That is acceptable. She deserves to know her love's response. And I would have what she knows for your safety as well." "Very well. Tell me when." "As soon as possible, for I should not delay my pursuit either." He thought for a moment before continuing. "I could arrange it this very eve. Though..." He glanced at her finery. "I am not quite dressed for dungeon delving, and neither are you." A few expletives were uttered from behind where the two sat which elicited a sigh from each. Jameson's armed guard soon returned and held out yet another scroll which he took and promptly looked over. "Apologies, Coatleque." He said at length. This bit of news was not as good. "... What is it? James?" There was a long, drawn out sigh followed by a forced smile from across the table. "Do not discount me... let me help.", she offered with genuine concern. "We live in a city of scales, love. One hand brings good tidings, the next... Do you have a change of clothes nearby?" She frowned but nodded. "As you say then. Yes, of course. We are not far from the inn." "I warn you," he murmured, "The black cells are ... black for a reason." "... Are you telling me to come armed, or in rags?" There was a short chuckle. "Armed if you wish. But what I meant was, do not dress in finery. Your silks will be in jeopardy." Coatleque drained the rest of her glass as Jameson settled the bill with a handsome tip. He rounded the table to pull out her chair, then offering his arm. She managed her first true smile of the night before standing and taking it. "Shall we?" he asked. "See?", she said softly "You do know what I desire at times." Jameson looked about to say something more but held his peace before leading her off to the inn.

I would change Sword Oath to be like Cleric Stance where it swaps STR and VIT for the Paladin so that we don't need two sets of accessories. And yes, make the damage increase affect all damage besides auto-attacks.

So... her sister then? Crofte would probably be a therapist.

Wasn't... wasn't Kale a Monetarist? Or at least that's the impression Crofte had of him from their political debates in the past.

Clare from Claymore

Despite the decries of some as being 'Gross', cooperative symbiosis can sometimes be a wonderful thing. (apologies about the stoneskin effect... Every time we were in a good paired position, some eager mage or summoner was casting on us)

I will agree with you there entirely. The purpose of the quote was not to say the gathering would escape, but that such a force has already been assembled without the bat of an eye.

You mean like...

Just like nobody ever had a weekly tavern night before HoD's weekly tavern night. I don't like seeing these every week either. Mod Note: Pruned.

I am disappoint.

Haha! I would have stuck around to engage more, but plans were already made for the night!

Let's watch, shall we? *turns slowly towards monitor*

Kudos to Roen & Company for an emotional roller coaster last night. Also to the mysterious gladiator who decided to walk up and talk to Crofte about the weather, and her mysterious date for the night. And finally to R'elend who unintentionally provided her a way out.

Per my thoughts here, Coatleque will not be attending. She's already been given her orders (see: What she's supposed to believe) and will propagate that rumor indefinitely. Also, a large gathering of Royalist supporters right when the Monetarists seize the majority of power in the city does not seem very wise. Especially when they're armed supporters.

I admit, I kind of slumped off on the wiki in general. But Coatleque's been rather static lately. Things may pick up again soon though. Grinding Zeta also ate a lot of my time. {edit: C-C-C-C-Combo breaker!}

[align=center]"I will not become a monster to hunt a monster..."[/align] Stress. That is what it was. Yes, her nerves were merely on edge. After watching Delial take her 'gift' followed by Jameson's latest outburst, Coatleque was finding it harder to focus on her mundane daily work. She merely needed to distract herself. Yes, everything would settle down again in a few days. The last few onzes of cinnamon whiskey in her drawer were becoming more alluring every day now. That is not an option, she told herself. Bad things happened whenever she drank. It was time to find a new vice that would be much less damaging to people around her. Where else better to find such a thing than the new Manderville Gold Saucer? Three hours and ten-thousand gil later, she found herself sitting on one of the couches of the top-level adjacent from the bar. A well-endowed golden statue facing (thankfully) away from her. She sighed and laid out her last three tickets upon her lap to go over her numbers once more. "Blasted luck.", she muttered to herself as she angrily tore one of the tickets into cheap confetti. This was doing nothing to help her nerves. She glanced towards the bar area before throwing the pieces behind the couch - quite sure she had just gotten away with what amounted to murder when nobody was looking. So engrossed was she in calculating her final odds that she was unaware of the woman who sat next to her just then. "Sometimes the Lady Luck is with ya, and other times she steals the very shirt off your back." Coatleque only barely heard her as she snorted. "I am finding that out more than I'd li..." Her words trailed off as she was sure that voice was familiar. Turning her head slowly she did not expect to see Shaelen herself sitting beside her. It appeared that Delial's little 'gift' had worked. What she could not tell was if this meeting was mere chance, or had she been watched this whole time. "Of all the times and all the places." she offered. The smuggler sat reclined next to the Paladin in a relaxed manner, seemingly at ease. "Well", she began before sucking on her teeth, "No time like the present I always say. Time is gil and all." "Yes, and lately we have so precious little of both." Coatleque replied with a sigh at her last two cards. She looked up and panned her gaze around the room, nervously looking for nearby security. She was unarmed, unarmored, and unprepared for this particular meeting. If Shaelen was feeling anything similar she did not show it, choosing to stare through tinted lenses at the obnoxious statue before them. "So... I got an interesting package." "Quite." "So you know about it then." The memory was still too fresh in Coatleque's mind. She had lured the boy, Hroch, out as planned. Spiked his skin with a common sleeping aid sold by the city alchemists (though in a more potent dosage), and he was delivered to a Flame's outpost along the southern road out of Ul'dah. It was in the cold, sandstone room that she stood by and allowed Delial Grimsong to remove two of the boy's fingers while unconscious. Something she was not proud of. "I know who sent it. That is more than enough.", she replied with as little emotion as she could feign. "And now you are my... liaison? To keep Hroch alive? Is that how ya do business these days?" Shaelen shot an accusing glance towards the Paladin, though her eyes were hidden behind her shades. Coatleque narrowed her own eyes and returned an annoyed look. She never wanted to hurt the boy. She wanted to send quite a different message - perhaps a different item of worth or a strip of torn clothing. As she stood in the cell, her own blade ready to draw against Delial in his defense, there was no argument she could make - Hroch had nothing. She had no other message to send except Delial's. At the time she could only mutter a curse to Nero Lazarov for yet another life ruined in his mad pursuit for blood. Since then she had time to reflect on her own inaction. Coatleque had resolved to pay Hroch back in some way. Whether by gil, material goods, or favors, she would set right the part she played in his maiming. Her voice grew slower, more serious. "It is not" she intoned, each word carrying a weight of its own. "My hand has been forced, now that a certain pirate at large has admitted to a rebellion in progress." Coatleque knew it was not an excuse, nor could she hope to explain everything to the woman next to her. This was the price she would have to pay for working with the Snake. "So THAT is the reason that the kinslayer gave you? To hunt down that boy? To relieve him of his fingers?" At least she is focused, Crofte thought. "And here I thought you would be thankful it wasn't the entire hand.", Coatleque responded calmly. There was no mirth or mockery to the comment. Shaelen could only stare at her open mouthed for a moment before snorting bitterly. "She threatened a finger each sun, then the head. As she took from the father, so will she from the son. THAT is the kind of woman you are dealing with. I was going to give Nero to Wolfsong. All HE had to do was let me kill her. AS he SAID he would. What a bunch of lyin' shite that was." Coatleque shook her head in disgust. "Yet another demand of blood for blood." How weary she was of death. For a brief moment she recalled the same look in Jameson's eyes. "'She won't meet death at my hands, but I won' be standin' in th'way o' others comin' fer her' he said. WHAT LOAD OF SHITE. Look, I don't CARE about this political feud. You can HAVE Lazarov. He is a customer. I don't snitch on customers, but blood is more important. I was going to give Wolfsong what he wanted for that snake!" The Paladin's gaze turned back towards Shealen at that. Finally, someone else was beginning to crack for once. Her expression did not fall from its former seriousness. "Then give me what I want for her." "Not when that snake still has him. You think I'd trust yet ANOTHER deal where she is involved?" An eyebrow was quirked just then as Coatleque realized the extent of the message delivered. She doesn't know where Hroch is. The barest hint a smile crept over her face as the scales were finally tipping in her favor. "She does not have him.", the Paladin replied matter-of-factly. "Where is he then?" the smuggler inquired as she now stared intently at Coatleque. The Sworn's image reflected clearly off the woman's shades. "Safer than in her hands." she noted with some confidence. Shaelen's attention was now fixated. "I need to know he's going to walk free. With nothing else missing on him. I need to see it. Then you get what I know." The Paladin offered a slight shrug as if bored. "I can take you to him, but if she catches wind she will know I've double-crossed her. Tell me, just how badly do you want Grimsong?" The smuggler crossed her legs and began to drum her fingers over her boots. "You have... no... idea. I am still going to kill her. Especially after this. I am going to relish it. Ya know what she did right? In Ala Mhigo?" "I know enough. The woman has been only trouble in all my dealings with her. I have yet to hear a good opinion from anyone else either." "Ya know why we call her kinslayer? She don't care shite about Lazarov. This is just a bloody excuse to hunt down more Resistance members. The deluded woman still considers everyone that stood up against Garlemald traitors. The fact that she is being PAID to do it in the name of hunting down some pirate is just icing on the cake. I can't trust Wolfsong. The man's not seeing straight. Ya think his sister has a bleeding heart for the wrong person, it runs in the family lady. Wolfsong got a thing for the snake. The same woman that TORTURED him and killed his parents. HOW twisted is that? But you are a 'Sworn." It was Coatleque's turn to sit back against the couch now. Her arms crossed as she listened to the smuggler. "I am, which is why Hroch's head is still intact. And I cannot try to understand it. Miss Stormchild, I am not being paid. I have a duty to prevent the slaughter of our citizens which Nero is working hard to bring about. You help me, and I will do what I can to deliver her to you for whatever justice is warranted." Shaelen's gaze lowered as her stormy eyes looked the Paladin over. "I guess I'll take my chance on your honor." she said with a frown. "If one more harm comes to that boy, or this turns out to be another double-cross... then I'll help Lazarov burn this cursed place to the ground myself." She shook her head. "I don't care about any of this, but I've had enough people protecting and lying for snakes like her." "I assure you, he was never to be more than leverage." Coatleque interjected with more than a little distaste. "Miss Grimsong took things further." "Swear." Shaelen suddenly demanded. "Give me your word. I want to see him freed. If you show me that, you get what I know." Of all the demands anyone could make, this was the one Coatleque hated the most. She had made many oaths in her career, and none had ever been carried out as intended. As a Paladin, a Sultansworn, an Oath was binding even to death. And she would have no control over what others may do to subvert it. Her teeth clenched and eyes narrowed before she straightened herself. If this is what was required of her to save others, then so be it. "Miss Stormchild, I swear by my Oath as a Paladin, I shall na'er let her touch him again. Help me stop Nero's bloodbath and he will go free." The contract having been struck, Shaelen frowned and shook her head once or twice before looking away. Yet it was enough, it seemed. "FINE. Fuck it all. You want to find a Lalafell. A plainsfolk named Qujon Zamajon. He owns a small boarding house in Revenant's Toll. He has a direct line to the pirate. He is the one that acted as a middle man between us; paid me in his stead." "And how can I be assured he will talk?" There was a loud snort. "Take a finger or two.", Shaelen replied curtly. "We got our professional code, lady. But he, like me, ain't gonna bleed for no political cause." "Understood", Coatleque said dryly. "And how would you like your repayment delivered?" Shaelen tongued the inside of her cheek, a strange grin appearing on one corner. "My repayment." The words carried a sort of excitement behind them as if it could not come soon enough. "I want what Wolfsong couldn't give me. A time and place the snake will be by herself, and no interference." "She will certainly want to know the results of our little chat. I think I can draw her out of the city. I am no murderer, Miss Stormchild. All I will do is give you this chance to see justice delivered. What you do is on you." The smuggler fished a small metallic looking linkpearl from her pocket and placed it on the cushion between them. "That's all I am looking for. Her blood is on no one else's hands but mine. You can contact me with this." Coatleque sat quietly for a moment before taking up the linkpearl and discretely placing it into her gil purse. For the first time in moons she felt a small weight lifted. Not great, but she could say was receiving the better end of this trade. And a vile woman may finally earn her due. She took a slow, deep breath. "Your friend is being held at the Flames outpost south of Ul'dah. Put them in contact with me when you arrive. I will order his release into your custody." Shaelen inhaled sharply through her nose before nodding. "Alright." "Best be sure you are not followed, else the snake become wary." "I am trusting this is not a trap, Sworn." Coatleque snorted. "Do not insult my honor." "I know how to lose a tail. Don't insult my skills." "Point Taken. I wish you luck then. I shall contact you as soon as I can." Shaelen rose and replaced her glasses. "And when he gets freed, I'll take your point too. Pleasure doing business." "As always." Coatleque replied as the woman left. She sat back against the couch and closed her eyes for a long while, breathing slowly. Too much. This is all too much. Then her thoughts turned to Jameson and how tired he looked when she last saw him. A twinge of both pain and sorrow flashed through her breast before turning to anger once more at his last outburst. "If you cannot trust my love... I know not what else I can do." Words she had spoken through tears and gnashed teeth. Her hands slid slowly down her face as she eyed the bar. Standing then, she moved to one of the empty stools and signaled to the bartender for something strong and twice the size. The smell of smoke hanging in the air wafted past her nose, and she was then acutely aware of another body behind her. "Lady Crofte," a man's voice said at almost a whisper. "I have a message for you. Lord Taeros has requested your presence." He slid a sealed letter along her side which she took with an annoyed sigh. "Has my Lord seen fit to have me watched where 'er I go now? How long were you following me?" He said nothing of course, but merely tipped his hat before disappearing back into the crowds. She sighed and broke the seal to read what amounted to something of an apology and dinner reservation. "Well... I suppose third chances are in order."

Alright fine. Now that I've watched the cut-scenes I can form an opinion today. If Crofte's captain and the head of her Order are both in the dark, then she would be even more so. She is aware there was an attempted assassination of someone and that the Sultana is no longer entertaining visitors. The Scions of the Seventh Dawn and Flame General have been taken into custody for drawing arms within the palace. Of course rumors are flying, but she must believe what her superiors tell her to believe. The increased Brass Blade presence in the streets would make her nervous though, and she may withdraw more and more to avoid confrontation with Monetarists in the open. You know how loud those Blades like to be with their insults. Though she personally may be shielded due to her relationship with a certain Monetarist nobleman, even his influence can only go so far. In the meantime she still has a job to do and will conduct herself accordingly.

This year is already 1/4 through. Where is time going?

If that's the case then I could also use a hug because...

How did Flynt even know? All the NPC dialogue that has been presented make it look like the whole thing is covered up. Even the Grand Master of the Sultansworn is in the dark.