"People are coming after Taeros. Do not be in their way."
A peal of thunder seemed to shake the estate to its foundation. Two glasses barely touching rang out as the vibrations knocked them together momentarily. Coatleque spared no glance from the fire in front of her where she stood. The hearth was beginning to die down and the hour had grown late.
The words were spoken to her earlier that evening as the rain had fallen around them outside the Sancrarium. Since then the hours had slowly crawled into the late of night. She had returned to Jameson's estate after her shift. In truth she found most of her nights were spent there of late, not that she could complain. It was quieter than the Hourglass, more private than the barracks, and more personal than the Still Shore.
The rain had let up only briefly before the bulk of the storm arrived, and the pattering of drops against the windows was interrupted by the crack of thunder infrequently at first. They had grown much louder now, and she was certain the storm itself was just overhead if not close to it.
Looking down from the hearth to the smeared ink of the article in her hand, she pressed her lips together in anger with narrowed eyes. It was easy for her to simply shrug off such libel. That was part of her job, after all. She could not, however, ignore the damage this may do to so many others. Jameson may suspect her - she was sure he would, in fact - but she had given him no reason to do so. After he himself was the target of so many other similar articles, would he even pay this one any mind?
Jameson. She had gone so far as to defend the man to Roen this evening. He was no saint, to be sure, but she had yet to discover damning evidence to convict him as opposed to Nero Lazarov who was confirmed now to have ordered the elimination of innocent women and children.
"Does it matter...?"
"... yes. Yes it does."
"Roen." She said her friend's name out loud just then. The realization that she would defend the man who committed such atrocities was almost too much to bear. Coatleque had sacrificed her own freedom to help Roen with her vengeance against Taeros. Yet it was clear that Roen had lost sight of that goal. What now did she sacrifice for? Was she even sure it was still a sacrifice?
"I believe we are close in bringing everything to light. Taeros' allies and their power are diminishing..."
Coatleque could see how tired Jameson was becoming. He was clearly losing ground as he himself confessed - as Roen had also confirmed. She wanted nothing more than to applaud Roen's efforts. To encourage her to strike now while she could. When the opportunity presented itself she could not do it. Coatleque turned away and held her tongue. Between the two men it was now clear which one was a danger to the city. Jameson may have his personal ambitions and bloody rivalries, but there was a line he had yet to cross.
"... you are asking me to believe he will not again only on your word."
She blinked away another tear as the conversation replayed in her mind once more. Another peal of thunder shook her back to the present and prompted her to look over her shoulder towards the back of the room. The suit of armor Jameson kept on its stand seemed to glare balefully at her as lightning reflected off its surface from the window. She shivered and turned back to the fire.
Her hand rose slowly to bring the article into view once more. She stared at it before releasing it into the fireplace. It laid across the smouldering coals before slowly blackening from the middle and spreading outwardly in a calm orange glow. With that she pushed Spahro's empty threats out of her mind. Miss Llorn can make all the noise she wanted, but Coatleque would not be bullied into compromising her investigations.
She stood there a good while longer as she watched the paper turn to a blackened and twisted crumple, and then an unrecognisable grey ash over top the softening glow of the embers. She did not know what time it was when Jameson finally returned. She was only suddenly aware of his presence next to hers.
Turning, she embraced him, quietly pressing her head to his chest. Things were now set in motion that could not be stopped. Decisions were made for her, it seemed, whether she would consent or not. She would defend him against Roen's growing madness, yes, but not only because she loved him. It was the lives of those who would be further caught in the wake of Nero's wrath that now weighed heaviest upon her heart.
A peal of thunder seemed to shake the estate to its foundation. Two glasses barely touching rang out as the vibrations knocked them together momentarily. Coatleque spared no glance from the fire in front of her where she stood. The hearth was beginning to die down and the hour had grown late.
The words were spoken to her earlier that evening as the rain had fallen around them outside the Sancrarium. Since then the hours had slowly crawled into the late of night. She had returned to Jameson's estate after her shift. In truth she found most of her nights were spent there of late, not that she could complain. It was quieter than the Hourglass, more private than the barracks, and more personal than the Still Shore.
The rain had let up only briefly before the bulk of the storm arrived, and the pattering of drops against the windows was interrupted by the crack of thunder infrequently at first. They had grown much louder now, and she was certain the storm itself was just overhead if not close to it.
Looking down from the hearth to the smeared ink of the article in her hand, she pressed her lips together in anger with narrowed eyes. It was easy for her to simply shrug off such libel. That was part of her job, after all. She could not, however, ignore the damage this may do to so many others. Jameson may suspect her - she was sure he would, in fact - but she had given him no reason to do so. After he himself was the target of so many other similar articles, would he even pay this one any mind?
Jameson. She had gone so far as to defend the man to Roen this evening. He was no saint, to be sure, but she had yet to discover damning evidence to convict him as opposed to Nero Lazarov who was confirmed now to have ordered the elimination of innocent women and children.
"Does it matter...?"
"... yes. Yes it does."
"Roen." She said her friend's name out loud just then. The realization that she would defend the man who committed such atrocities was almost too much to bear. Coatleque had sacrificed her own freedom to help Roen with her vengeance against Taeros. Yet it was clear that Roen had lost sight of that goal. What now did she sacrifice for? Was she even sure it was still a sacrifice?
"I believe we are close in bringing everything to light. Taeros' allies and their power are diminishing..."
Coatleque could see how tired Jameson was becoming. He was clearly losing ground as he himself confessed - as Roen had also confirmed. She wanted nothing more than to applaud Roen's efforts. To encourage her to strike now while she could. When the opportunity presented itself she could not do it. Coatleque turned away and held her tongue. Between the two men it was now clear which one was a danger to the city. Jameson may have his personal ambitions and bloody rivalries, but there was a line he had yet to cross.
"... you are asking me to believe he will not again only on your word."
She blinked away another tear as the conversation replayed in her mind once more. Another peal of thunder shook her back to the present and prompted her to look over her shoulder towards the back of the room. The suit of armor Jameson kept on its stand seemed to glare balefully at her as lightning reflected off its surface from the window. She shivered and turned back to the fire.
Her hand rose slowly to bring the article into view once more. She stared at it before releasing it into the fireplace. It laid across the smouldering coals before slowly blackening from the middle and spreading outwardly in a calm orange glow. With that she pushed Spahro's empty threats out of her mind. Miss Llorn can make all the noise she wanted, but Coatleque would not be bullied into compromising her investigations.
She stood there a good while longer as she watched the paper turn to a blackened and twisted crumple, and then an unrecognisable grey ash over top the softening glow of the embers. She did not know what time it was when Jameson finally returned. She was only suddenly aware of his presence next to hers.
Turning, she embraced him, quietly pressing her head to his chest. Things were now set in motion that could not be stopped. Decisions were made for her, it seemed, whether she would consent or not. She would defend him against Roen's growing madness, yes, but not only because she loved him. It was the lives of those who would be further caught in the wake of Nero's wrath that now weighed heaviest upon her heart.
