Pilus Prior Adetck von Welchmier was not the sort of man who enjoyed having his time wasted, especially now that he was reaching his senior years. His face was deep with wrinkles and the white beard that covered his face was neatly braided as it hung to his chest. His bald head was cleanly shaven, polished and reflected the lights of the oil lanterns that burned around him on the ship’s deck.
The Pilus Prior was dressed in his military garb but had placed a handkerchief over his nose and mouth. The smell of the rotting whale blubber from the whaling ship stunk to the high heavens and the older male had already determined that he was going to need to burn the boots he now wore upon returning to civilized ports.
The only reason he was here, now, aboard a festering ship in the middle of the ocean, instead of his richly furnished home, was the mysterious letter he had received. In the letter he had been asked to meet here to conduct a business deal, one he should attend or would discover certain details of his…nightlife would be made very openly public to his political opponents inside the Empire.
So here he stood, waiting for the crew to find this Ci’ya Laytier below deck.
“Bloody miqo’te.†the hyur growled, his three eyes narrowing in disgust. “Vermin aught to be-“
“Be what?†came a voice.
Welchmier turned and blinked as his eyes came to rest on one of the thickest, tallest and most heavily muscled miqo’tes he had ever seen. The male’s hair was cut short and he wore a battered Garlean uniform with the insignia marking him as a Centurian Immune on the breast. A green jacket, covered in muck hung over the uniform
The male miqo’te yawned and began to pick his nose vigorously as he spoke, his voice slow and thick with a deep drawl.
“Well, meow, I did ask ya what yah was sayin’†the mio’te said as he pulled a booger out and flicked it onto the floor. The miqo’te’s green eyes shone like emeralds in the dim light as they blinked lazily.
“I could have your head for this!†Welchmier snapped indignantly, slamming his foot down, his sword rattling in its scabbard. “You are a Garlena soldier, an inferior officer, and a lower breed. How dare you take that tone with me. You will address me as my title demands.â€
“Look,†the miqo’te named Ci’ya Laytier started slowly in his lazy drawl before he yawned and continued. The miqo’te had deep bags under his eyes and looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. Truth is he had been asleep for the past twelve hours.
“I knows who ya are, I knows what I should be doin’ and I was getting’ to that, but then ya threw a fit. Ya can’t order me around cause I ain’t in your unit, and if ya don’t stop giving me a headache with yer constant complain’ I’m gonna take myself back to Limsa and then back to my unit. I’m only here helping out this Trythian Oul feller cause he payin’ me and needed a favor. So do ya wanna clam up and listen to the offer about making money for yer surplus weapons or ya want to keep puffing yerself up like a constipated canary?â€
Ci’ya had begun chewing on a wad of whale fat he had stored in his mouth while he had slept and he gazed at the Garlean hyur through half open eyes. He was clearly bored and could take this situation or leave it. In fact, Ci’ya was normally incredibly respectful of superior officers in uniform, though he hadn’t seen the homeland since his unit was mostly destroyed and he had been serving under the command of Marcus Valerius Corvus inside Eorzea for the pat six years.
Welchmier went livid and his fist shook at the mannerisms this inferior officer was displaying and if it weren’t for the fact that whomever had sent him had more dirt about the Pilus Prior than his own wife did, Welchmier would have spilled Ci’ya’s guts all over the gut covered deck.
“Speak fast then, before you lose your tongue.†Welchmier spat.
Ci’ya spat his wad of whale fat onto the floor and nodded.
“Whelp, alright then. Point ya need to know is Mr. Trythian Oul be wanting to purchase yer surplus Garlean weapons and tech to black market in Eorzea.†Ci’ya shrugged. “About it right there. Ya ship it whole sale, he splits price 50-50.â€
“Why is this Trythian Oul wanting to make this sort of deal?†Welchmier said slowly, his anger for the massive miqo’te diminishing slightly.
“Hells if I know.†Ci’ya answered with a lazy blink of his green eyes. “He contacted me by letter and basically made me meet with some person of his and then be here to make the deal. Needed Garlean to Garlean talk or something I suppose. After this I’m cleared to go back to my unit once I give him yer answer.â€
“So you have no reason to trust him?†Welchmier said suspicious suddenly.
“Well, he did send a chest of gold for ye and promise of more once the first shipment I got here under my belt comes in.â€
Ci’ya reached down the front of his trousers and pulled out a piece of paper after adjusting himself for a moment. Ci’ya handed the parchment to Welchmier, who took it and held it at arm’s length from himself like it was a dead rat.
“Charming.†Welchmier remarked in disgust. But his tone shifted as he read the order.
“You certain this is what he wants?â€
“Hells if I know.†Ci’ya shrugged lazily. “I’m just a messenger here, like I done said like three times now or somethin’.â€
“Testament to the Emperor’s army you are.†Welchmier said sarcastically as he read over the order and where it was to be delivered and when. Welchmier was wary of this Trythian Oul. But the idea of being able to ship in the last generation of Imperial weapons, most of which was obsolete and sitting in surplus storage for no reason was too good a chance to pass up. Welchmier had never seen combat. In fact, all he did was manage warehouses full of munitions and such. He held the record books to some of the largest weapons dumps in the Empire and if some of those weapons got slipped under the table into Eorzea to slip gold into his personal accounts and increase his spending power, Welchmier would not find it unpatriotic to do so.
In truth, Welchmier had been looking for a chance to do this for years but most in the Empire already had weapons like what he could offer. But Eorzea, that back water shit hole, was so far behind the Empire technologically, that Welchmier shipping the arms could make gunblades a common sight within the city-states. And that was a fun concept. And a profitable one. Especially if this Trythian Oul was one of the major players on the black market at the moment.
Trythian certainly seemed super informed. He obviously had ties within the Empire to send this degenerate miqo’te to do his bidding.
Part of Welchmier said this was a bad idea but his greed was stronger.
“Tell this, Trythian Oul we have terms. I will bring the initial order to the location he specified with my armed escort. If I am satisfied with that exchange, we might do business together.â€
A crow, that had been watching them, suddenly flew off, squawking loudly.
Ci’ya Laytier nodded and then yawned as he stretched.
“Very well. I’ll let him know before I get back to my unit.â€
“And what unit is that, so that I might send the court-martial paperwork in myself.†Welchmier threatened darkly.
Ci’ya looked at the hyur and then lifted his left arm and flexed. The miqo’te’s bicep swelled into a mass even a roe might be proud off and blinked as he kissed the muscle mass. Around him the small crew of the whaler all shifted their eyes to the Pilus Prior and his small entourage.
“Why don’t ya get yer fancy self back on the ship, sir, and back home?†Ci’ya said in his drawl. “Before ya get hog tied and heaved over into the water after we shave yer beard with a rusty razor?â€
Welchmier glared daggers but spun and stormed off to the brow connecting this ship to his own. Welchmier, despite his bravado was no fighter, and was not stupid enough to waste time and a good uniform on trash like Ci’ya Laytier.
The Pilus Prior was dressed in his military garb but had placed a handkerchief over his nose and mouth. The smell of the rotting whale blubber from the whaling ship stunk to the high heavens and the older male had already determined that he was going to need to burn the boots he now wore upon returning to civilized ports.
The only reason he was here, now, aboard a festering ship in the middle of the ocean, instead of his richly furnished home, was the mysterious letter he had received. In the letter he had been asked to meet here to conduct a business deal, one he should attend or would discover certain details of his…nightlife would be made very openly public to his political opponents inside the Empire.
So here he stood, waiting for the crew to find this Ci’ya Laytier below deck.
“Bloody miqo’te.†the hyur growled, his three eyes narrowing in disgust. “Vermin aught to be-“
“Be what?†came a voice.
Welchmier turned and blinked as his eyes came to rest on one of the thickest, tallest and most heavily muscled miqo’tes he had ever seen. The male’s hair was cut short and he wore a battered Garlean uniform with the insignia marking him as a Centurian Immune on the breast. A green jacket, covered in muck hung over the uniform
The male miqo’te yawned and began to pick his nose vigorously as he spoke, his voice slow and thick with a deep drawl.
“Well, meow, I did ask ya what yah was sayin’†the mio’te said as he pulled a booger out and flicked it onto the floor. The miqo’te’s green eyes shone like emeralds in the dim light as they blinked lazily.
“I could have your head for this!†Welchmier snapped indignantly, slamming his foot down, his sword rattling in its scabbard. “You are a Garlena soldier, an inferior officer, and a lower breed. How dare you take that tone with me. You will address me as my title demands.â€
“Look,†the miqo’te named Ci’ya Laytier started slowly in his lazy drawl before he yawned and continued. The miqo’te had deep bags under his eyes and looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. Truth is he had been asleep for the past twelve hours.
“I knows who ya are, I knows what I should be doin’ and I was getting’ to that, but then ya threw a fit. Ya can’t order me around cause I ain’t in your unit, and if ya don’t stop giving me a headache with yer constant complain’ I’m gonna take myself back to Limsa and then back to my unit. I’m only here helping out this Trythian Oul feller cause he payin’ me and needed a favor. So do ya wanna clam up and listen to the offer about making money for yer surplus weapons or ya want to keep puffing yerself up like a constipated canary?â€
Ci’ya had begun chewing on a wad of whale fat he had stored in his mouth while he had slept and he gazed at the Garlean hyur through half open eyes. He was clearly bored and could take this situation or leave it. In fact, Ci’ya was normally incredibly respectful of superior officers in uniform, though he hadn’t seen the homeland since his unit was mostly destroyed and he had been serving under the command of Marcus Valerius Corvus inside Eorzea for the pat six years.
Welchmier went livid and his fist shook at the mannerisms this inferior officer was displaying and if it weren’t for the fact that whomever had sent him had more dirt about the Pilus Prior than his own wife did, Welchmier would have spilled Ci’ya’s guts all over the gut covered deck.
“Speak fast then, before you lose your tongue.†Welchmier spat.
Ci’ya spat his wad of whale fat onto the floor and nodded.
“Whelp, alright then. Point ya need to know is Mr. Trythian Oul be wanting to purchase yer surplus Garlean weapons and tech to black market in Eorzea.†Ci’ya shrugged. “About it right there. Ya ship it whole sale, he splits price 50-50.â€
“Why is this Trythian Oul wanting to make this sort of deal?†Welchmier said slowly, his anger for the massive miqo’te diminishing slightly.
“Hells if I know.†Ci’ya answered with a lazy blink of his green eyes. “He contacted me by letter and basically made me meet with some person of his and then be here to make the deal. Needed Garlean to Garlean talk or something I suppose. After this I’m cleared to go back to my unit once I give him yer answer.â€
“So you have no reason to trust him?†Welchmier said suspicious suddenly.
“Well, he did send a chest of gold for ye and promise of more once the first shipment I got here under my belt comes in.â€
Ci’ya reached down the front of his trousers and pulled out a piece of paper after adjusting himself for a moment. Ci’ya handed the parchment to Welchmier, who took it and held it at arm’s length from himself like it was a dead rat.
“Charming.†Welchmier remarked in disgust. But his tone shifted as he read the order.
“You certain this is what he wants?â€
“Hells if I know.†Ci’ya shrugged lazily. “I’m just a messenger here, like I done said like three times now or somethin’.â€
“Testament to the Emperor’s army you are.†Welchmier said sarcastically as he read over the order and where it was to be delivered and when. Welchmier was wary of this Trythian Oul. But the idea of being able to ship in the last generation of Imperial weapons, most of which was obsolete and sitting in surplus storage for no reason was too good a chance to pass up. Welchmier had never seen combat. In fact, all he did was manage warehouses full of munitions and such. He held the record books to some of the largest weapons dumps in the Empire and if some of those weapons got slipped under the table into Eorzea to slip gold into his personal accounts and increase his spending power, Welchmier would not find it unpatriotic to do so.
In truth, Welchmier had been looking for a chance to do this for years but most in the Empire already had weapons like what he could offer. But Eorzea, that back water shit hole, was so far behind the Empire technologically, that Welchmier shipping the arms could make gunblades a common sight within the city-states. And that was a fun concept. And a profitable one. Especially if this Trythian Oul was one of the major players on the black market at the moment.
Trythian certainly seemed super informed. He obviously had ties within the Empire to send this degenerate miqo’te to do his bidding.
Part of Welchmier said this was a bad idea but his greed was stronger.
“Tell this, Trythian Oul we have terms. I will bring the initial order to the location he specified with my armed escort. If I am satisfied with that exchange, we might do business together.â€
A crow, that had been watching them, suddenly flew off, squawking loudly.
Ci’ya Laytier nodded and then yawned as he stretched.
“Very well. I’ll let him know before I get back to my unit.â€
“And what unit is that, so that I might send the court-martial paperwork in myself.†Welchmier threatened darkly.
Ci’ya looked at the hyur and then lifted his left arm and flexed. The miqo’te’s bicep swelled into a mass even a roe might be proud off and blinked as he kissed the muscle mass. Around him the small crew of the whaler all shifted their eyes to the Pilus Prior and his small entourage.
“Why don’t ya get yer fancy self back on the ship, sir, and back home?†Ci’ya said in his drawl. “Before ya get hog tied and heaved over into the water after we shave yer beard with a rusty razor?â€
Welchmier glared daggers but spun and stormed off to the brow connecting this ship to his own. Welchmier, despite his bravado was no fighter, and was not stupid enough to waste time and a good uniform on trash like Ci’ya Laytier.
