Coatleque sighed as she quickly and quietly opened the door to Jameson's office. The day had long since ended and there were a few things she would have liked to have in place before he arrived back the next day. A small bundle of sealed letters were tucked under one arm as she rolled her way along the door into the dim light and closed it behind her. She turned only to stop dead in her tracks with a start, much like a child who was just caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
Jameson had returned early and was sitting at his desk and leaning forward slightly. He both smiled, and did not at the same time.
"Coatleque. I was not expecting you at this late hour. Are you unwell?"
She shook her head once with a blink still surprised at his early return.
"James. No, no of course not. I was only seeing to matters while..."
Even as she spoke someone else entered behind her, forcing her to stand aside unexpectedly. It was one of the manservants she had seen delivering news before. Jameson gave the man his professional smile and received a nod in return.
"Esmond. No need for alarm. It is only Ser Crofte."
The pair at the door exchanged glances before she straightened herself off to the side to wait.
"Of course, milord", he began. "There is a message."
"Ah."
An envelope was slid across the desk which Jameson promptly took. The man, Esmond, bowed curtly before seeing himself out. Jameson took up a small dagger to the side of the desk and slit a neat gash along the crease with a deft flick. His brow furrowed as he read whatever news it delivered.
Coatleque had meanwhile moved off to the side of the room just beyond the hearth where another table was placed against the wall. She dropped her bundle of letters there before turning to face him again. "What is it?"
Jameson sighed. The letter was folded and returned to the envelope as promptly as it had been read. "Business.", he murmured. Unlocking his desk drawer he quickly slipped the letter in before closing and immediately locking it. Coatleque had sauntered her way to his desk by then, with slow, alternating steps that seemed to cross each other.
"Now then. What can I do for you?" He sounded weary. Just barely, but she had spent enough time with him now to tell when things were not going as planned. "For me? Nothing. I am not here for me. I expected you back tomorrow. Is something wrong?"
Jameson pursed his lips as if considering just how much he could trust her with, and then inclined his head. "A few things. Would that the people I trust the most actually do their jobs." His eyes narrowed as he spoke, his tone taking on an accusing timbre.
She cautiously moved closer then, crossing behind him and even daring to reach out and rub his shoulders over the back of his chair. He flicked a slight look of displeasure in her direction before reaching over and taking another sheaf of paper from the unlocked portion of his desk. Coatleque slowly stopped and retreated back to his side and behind. Her head bowed, she said nothing more as she stared towards the floor.
![[Image: hGxh4aJ.png]](http://i.imgur.com/hGxh4aJ.png)
Jameson ignored her as he began a new letter addressed to a lord named "Hand". His handwriting was slow and deliberate as if focusing whatever was angering him into the very quill against the parchment. She maintained her silence until he chose to break it. Softly, curtly. "Your task bore no fruit, I note."
"My task is not yet complete..." she offered in rebuttal almost immediately, yet softly.
"Good. You will be... pleased to know Anden Anduron will no longer be your problem."
"... Why is that?"
"I have arranged for his freedom... and deportment. Of a sort."
"You... are letting him go?"
He did not pause nor falter in his writing as the letter continued to grow. From her position she could not make any of it out herself. His voice had become quieter though, more focused. "I need beasts of burden I can count on. He is a blunt instrument to be sure, but no more than some. And he is... loyal." The word was cut off with the click of his teeth as if biting it off specifically.
"It is not in my power to let him go. All I am doing is influencing those who do have the power to do my bidding. Surely that is not too hard to grasp?"
"... N-no." She took a slow breath and continued to stare at the floor, keeping her position.
"He will likely still be facing extradition charges, but anyone who even half cares will need venture up half a frozen mountain to find him." His voice dropped to a murmur just then. "And he can be my eyes, ears, and primary blade in that Halone-forsaken part of the world."
"James... is this entirely wise?" She ventured the question, unsure how he would react. She could not remain silent though, knowing what Anden had done. "N-not that I would stop you, but... he is not popular with the people. They will hear he has been released."
"Yes, they probably will." Jameson answered almost immediately, as if this had all been thought through. "There will be questions. They won't find their way back to me. I am telling you because you are my paramour and I trust you."
Coatleque found herself clutching at the silver key around her neck. She could only nod, quietly. Jameson continued his letter with every bit of determination. After a moment he nodded to himself and set it aside. "Lazarov is gaining on us." He spoke still in a murmur as if he did not want her to overhear. "With every ilm we lose."
"About that..."
He glanced to her sharply.
"Our raid in the Goblet was not entirely fruitless. Now that I know how owns the business. He and I have crossed paths before. A former lover of Natalie's. He does... owe me. Only he has proven elusive to track down."
C'kayah Polaali had in truth been absent since the night they attempted to infiltrate his business in the Goblet. She currently had squires out scouring the city to find him. She knew he would not have gone far and was eager to put this matter behind them. "Had I known he was involved beforehand... things would have gone differently." She added afterwords.
His expression turned somewhat thoughtful. "Name?"
"Polaali. C'kayah Polaali. A smuggler and vagrant."
"I see. And what are his feelings about Lazarov?"
"I do not know if he was involved directly with Lazarov," she began "but nothing would have passed through his house without him knowing. He is fiercely loyal to Ul'dah and has provided me with valuable information in the past. Which is why I... allow him to continue to operate. If he is aware of Lazarov's intent, I am sure he will talk to me."
Whether it was her confession or the news itself, his mood seemed to improve slightly. He did not reply though, only shot her a smirk from the side.
"We have one other lead, which..." She cut herself off before continuing as if she had reconsidered even mentioning this.
"... Master Gharen Wolfsong is tracking down."
"Deneith's... brother." he murmured in response with some distaste.
"James... even he can see that you tread the higher ground in this case. He may not like you, but he is helping me. Trying his best to disrupt supply lines to Lazarov. Hinder whatever he is planning."
Her concern over him caused another shift of his mood as his expression turned odd. "Love. My friends need not be yours, not vice versa. I rather enjoy our varied paths and associates." He sighed and rose, turning to face her.
"We will stop him. I promise." She replied in as reassuring a tone as she could manage.
Drawing closer to her, he seemed oddly melancholy for her words. "I have every confidence." A hand rose to toy with her collar as though it had been crooked again. His change of demeanor did cause her to relax from her submissive poise. "I count on you," he said quietly. "You know that."
Her head bowed once more. "I know. I wish I was more effective for you. My skills lay in... other areas. But... there was another issue, one of your shipments through Camp Drybone...."
"Oh?"
"Your valet was injured."
His voice remained low. "But you are learning more than a few valuable lessons. And--oh. Yes, he wrote me. I expect his return sometime this night."
"So soon?" she said with some astonishment. "I made the trip to be sure he was not on his death bed. With him gone, I have been directing the servants as best I can, but..."
Jameson only smirked at her. "Coatleque, that is beneath you. I did not always have a manservant. I assure you I thrived." This was not the first time he had expressed as much when she fussed over certain trivialities of the day. She was finally able to meet his gaze with some measure of confidence though. "And I am beneath you, am I not?"
His composure held for a brief moment as he adjusted the scarf around her neck. "Sometimes. Other times I am beneath you." It did not last long before he laughed his typical sly laugh. She looked at him blankly before realizing what she had said and turning her head away, cheeks nearly matching her hair.
"Oh, stop." He purred. "You would do anything I requested, barring a third party in the bed. I know you too well." His hand continued to toy with her collar.
"As I said... my skills are in other areas." She finally managed to stammer, choosing not to fight the situation.
He smiled. "Your news pleases me. I will accept some form of relaxation later tonight. I may have a specific request or two..." With that he tightened the scarf around her neck just a bit. She turned to look back into his eyes. "O-of course, my love. You have been away some time. I imagine you are quite eager." Her expression changed to worry as she examined the crease of his brow. "Yet... you look so weary. Are you sure nothing is wrong?"
Jameson's weight shifted as he drew closer to her, his voice turning sad even. "Much is wrong. Much is right. We struggle. That is part of the fun."
"But are not the wrongs easier to bear with someone else?" They stood silently together for a moment. "James?... Love?"
"Not if they add to the burden." He cupped her cheek with one hand to which she leaned into.
"There are times I fear... we walk too different a path."
"And other times?" she asked.
"And other times I feel we are precisely where we need to be."
He kissed her. Softly, swiftly. Her hand rose and held firm against his chest.
"I have kept my duty separate from... us. Despite the protests of some. Nobody has found true fault yet."
An arm suddenly swept her closer with a deepened embrace, yet his fingers graced the edge of her jaw with a feather's touch.
"And they should not. You are my sterling silver, Coatleque. You should remain unimpeachable in most regards."
She turned her head against him just then, resting against his shoulder.
"Is that for my protection, or yours?"
He looked up with a frown though she could not see it.
"I can protect myself. You have worked hard to get where you are." He tapped her lower lip with a gloved fingertip. "That being said, I am pleased you see the worth of dogs like Wolfsong." he said with another murmur.
His words gave her pause then as she leaned back, looking up to him. "Have I? And where am I?"
"I assume you have." His voice turned almost playful. This was a game he nearly enjoyed. "Did you f**k your way to the top?" Vulgarity from him was certainly rare. It would have caught anyone else off guard, perhaps even humorously.
"That is not funny." she said pointedly, insulted even. "I had no choice." It was her turn to frown now.
"Dear, your past life would have found little purchase. At least in most regards."
"... perhaps not, but I was happy. I was to be married. To have my own life. Now... now I serve others for twelve hours of every day."
She found herself now pushing away from him, slinking along the wall behind his desk towards the bar. He merely watched her with dark amusement over the whole thing. "It certainly brings to light a question if you did not work to get where you are at."
"I was a slave, James. That is not work..." she replied with masked pain.
"I fail to make the distinction then, between those skills and the ones needed to move up a Sultansworn ladder. I am however, quite curious now. Married? To whom?" Her annoyance faded into sadness as she turned away from him then. "What does it matter? He is dead now."
"What ended him, if I may be so bold?" Jameson came up beside her and selected a bottle of wine and two glasses. Coatleque glanced his way before moving back across the room to the table by the hearth. Quietly she began to sort them into separate piles by what she thought looked important. She honestly did not know if they were, but it was a distraction. "I did." she said at length.
He flicked a sharp look her way before going back to his preparations. It was certainly not the answer he expected. She knew more questions would follow so she decided to head them off. "I let him walk away. I let him approach the brigands. I let him die on the beach." Jameson had in the mean time crossed the room to stand between her and the fireplace, holding out one of the glasses for her. She hesitantly took the glass letting her fingers feel his gloved hand before holding the wine quietly and staring at the centerpiece of the table.
"It was his choice to approach. You merely allowed it. You did not kill him." His words were offered in at least some measure of quiet reverence as he tried to comfort her his own way. She took a drink and lowered the glass. "Well I certainly did not stop him. And when I cried out I doomed the rest of my village." Jameson listened to her quietly while he sipped his own glass. She closed here eyes then and took a slow breath in, then out. Another drink before she composed herself in front of him.
"As I said. What does it matter?"
"You did not. The brigands did. Men kill. It does not matter. I am saddened for your village, less so for your betrothed."
"why should you be? You did not know them."
He shrugged slightly. "Call me selfish. I enjoy your company."
Coatleque sighed. "As do I yours. I should not darken the evening with such memories." He shrugged again and she was about to set her glass down when he stopped her. "It is a dark night, dark thoughts are welcome." He raised his own glass in a darkly ironic toast which she joined before draining her glass. After another moment of silence she gestured to the piles of letters. "More business I presume?"
"Of course."
She turned and crossed the room once more to set her glass at the bar for Mister North to collect later. Jameson meanwhile collected the envelopes and returned to his desk, unlocking the drawer, and laying them within after a cursory glance. Closing the drawer he locked it without further word. Coatleque joined him once more from the left side, again standing slightly behind with her hands folded in front of her.
"What dark thoughts cross your mind this eve, then?"
"Many and more." He said with a sigh. "I have been seeking... expansion in other locales. As they present themselves. Timely that they should arise just as my troubles with Lazarov take sour turns. And so I must needs... assuage fears." He glanced to her. "You understand the importance of repute."
"I do. It is just... do you plan to travel over much?"
He frowned. "If I must". It was followed by a slight chuckle. "Why, would you relish a holiday?"
She found herself smiling at the notion. "We could both use one. But... no. I was given a rather dire warning by someone."
His interest was piqued once more as an eyebrow lifted. "What sort?"
"She said that people would be coming for you. That I should not be in their way."
The other brow lifted. "And who gave this?"
"... who else do you know that is seemingly out to ruin you? Lazarov is no woman."
"My dear, I have more enemies than I can count. A hazard of my business. Was it Deneith?" He ended with a knowing frown.
"It was."
Coatleque found her voice quieting the longer they ventured down this line of questioning. She knew full well what he expected her to do, yet once again she kept to her neutrality. His eyes narrowed on her. "How did she deliver this little missive to you?"
"That is not entirely important. What is, though, is your life. I am worried what she has planned."
"It is important to me, Coatleque." he replied quietly.
She crossed her arms and set her jaw, feigning confidence. "In person. Near the Sancrarium."
His expression did not change, thankfully, maintaining a rather neutral look. "And she had you outnumbered."
"We were... not alone. And I had another threat to deal with, concerning your favorite Lantern reporter."
He made a face at that, and the pressure was seemly thrown off of her apparent failure.
"Wonderful. Very well, what is the threat?"
She rubbed at her forehead with one hand as if even she could not believe. "Her most libelous work yet. I should have shown it to you for your amusement alone. I decided to spare you the stress. It has not been printed, but her threat was real enough. It would have hurt both you and Lazarov. Painting you as being in league with each other, and with Roen and I trying to over it all up."
"She is an idiot who makes up very convenient truths." Jameson observed. She nodded in agreement.
"I can handle Miss Llorn, though. Roen... is no longer welcome in the city." She added to reassure him.
"What is her exact aim? No one believes her idiocy any more."
"To sell her drivel?"
"Well then, one thing at a time."
With that, Jameson put a hand to his ear. "Esmond. I require you." He was clearly not happy at this point as he unlocked a lower drawer and withdrew a small coffer. From it he retrieved two small bags of coins. Each one he tied with short, sharp gestures. She watched him while they awaited Mister Dirk's arrival. He stopped and stared at the door with obvious displeasure at the lack of promptness. Coatleque decided to distract him with another question, for her own sake if not for Esmond's.
"Perhaps I may inquire something of you?"
"Yes." he murmured.
"How... do you feel about children?"
The question startled him almost immediately and he glanced her way.
"Why? Is there something I need to know?"
"About?"
She tilted her head inquiringly before starting herself and waving her hands in quick denial.
"Oh... OH! ... no, that is not what I meant!"
Mister Dirk quietly entered the room just then, bowed, and stood straight in front of his desk. "My lord." Jameson's attention was turned back to the man while Coatleque once again had to compose herself, face flushing red.
"I require you..." he began, "to contact two mercenaries and bring them to me. Tonight. The Holbrook girl, and the meaty cretin she keeps in tow. I have need of their services." With that he shoved the two rather thick bags of coin across the desk. "Fully armed. Their first task will be carried out at dawn."
Esmond took the bags and tied them to his belt securely. "Aye, my lord, at once. I shall check the usual places." To this James smirked one of his sly and knowing smiles. The man bowed once more before making his exit. As the door latched quietly, Coatleque was chewing her bottom lip. Jameson addressed her directly once more with measured disgust.
"I am beyond weary of this ghost of a woman who is apparently so charming she cannot even bring my paramour to secure her." She stopped chewing her lip and looked to the floor once more in silence. "As to your question," he continued with a clipped tone. "I of course require children. But not before marriage. And I will require a wife who is loyal to me as much as she is to herself. And those sorts of matches are truly rare, it seems to me."
There was a long pause between them as she mulled over his words. Her failure. His... promise. "I... I c-can do better." she stammered. "As can I." he replied softly with a sigh. "Being wary in all corners of my life is taxing, Coatleque."
"As enticing as that sounds, though... it was also not what I... what I mean."
"Ah. What did you mean."
She held her tongue for a moment, considering if she even wanted to ask the question, so horrible as it was.
"Would you put them to the sword?"
He blinked, clearly not understanding her meaning. "Why would I put -- Oh... not mychildren. Any children?" The new understanding was clearly disturbing even to him, and it caused her to relax somewhat as she nodded. "To what end?" he asked.
"Not to an end... simply to end. Them. Or perhaps for revenge? Does it matter?"
"You have been reading too many tragedies." he retorted.
Coatleque's expression turned to one of imploring hope as if she were trying to coax the answer from his lips that she so desperately wanted to hear. "I... I just needed to know. That there is still a line that would not be crossed."
"Coatleque. The only reason to kill children would be so they do not grow up to be a threat. And we're talking a twenty year span here, like as not. There is no reason to be that... far-thinking. It verges on paranoia, and is barbaric on top of that. Has the journalist equated me with Lazarov to that degree?"
She exhaled in sharp relief finally. "No, she has not."
"Then who filled your mind with such nonsense?"
"Rumors that I have confirmed from multiple sources now, that Lazarov has exterminated an entire house. Not his hand directly, but he signed their death sentences, down to the last child and manservant."
Jameson nodded. "It is not rumor." he said quietly. "It is fact. And it is one of the reasons he must be removed. He is ruthless beyond measure or even common reason." He finally finished his own glass of the wine and passed it to her. She set it on the bar next to her own.
"If there are men coming for you..." she turned back to him from the bar. "I beg you, be careful. For me."
"I rarely go anywhere without accompaniment these days. Fret not." He sighed. "Though that is its own burden." He shook his head as if suddenly remembering an appointment or some such. "There will be no holidays for either of us, likely. Not in the near future. Do you have an associate you trust? Truly trust? I will need them to take a sensitive message to Coerthas. I may need my dog off his leash sooner than I planned. And he should have been removed from the city as of five hours ago."
"... Anden?" she breathed pensively. "I... no, I have no one I would trust for that. Nobody else in the Order would understand as I do."
"Very well." He sighed. "I will... find someone else suitable for the task."
"If it was anyone else it would be a different matter. As I said, he is not well liked."
Jameson laughed a short, humorless laugh. "No, he is not. For good reason. Despite his breeding, Anduron is a brute. The sands of the arena run through his veins. He needs blood on his hands or he is not happy."
"I would say he has had enough already."
"Not enough by far." He scowled. "Tragically. We needs move up our timetable."
"I could find mercenaries, though I would not say I trust them."
"No." He replied curtly. "I'll find another to contact Anduron."
"Of course." She fell silent once more to his side.
"Leave me for the nonce, Coatleque. I have... wars to wage, and blood to spill from my pen." She regarded him for another moment. He did appear more tired now than she had ever seen him, and for that she felt a twinge of sorrow. Passing behind his chair she brushed a hand across his shoulders. "Until later, my Lord..." With that she let herself out of the office as quietly as she arrived.
Jameson had returned early and was sitting at his desk and leaning forward slightly. He both smiled, and did not at the same time.
"Coatleque. I was not expecting you at this late hour. Are you unwell?"
She shook her head once with a blink still surprised at his early return.
"James. No, no of course not. I was only seeing to matters while..."
Even as she spoke someone else entered behind her, forcing her to stand aside unexpectedly. It was one of the manservants she had seen delivering news before. Jameson gave the man his professional smile and received a nod in return.
"Esmond. No need for alarm. It is only Ser Crofte."
The pair at the door exchanged glances before she straightened herself off to the side to wait.
"Of course, milord", he began. "There is a message."
"Ah."
An envelope was slid across the desk which Jameson promptly took. The man, Esmond, bowed curtly before seeing himself out. Jameson took up a small dagger to the side of the desk and slit a neat gash along the crease with a deft flick. His brow furrowed as he read whatever news it delivered.
Coatleque had meanwhile moved off to the side of the room just beyond the hearth where another table was placed against the wall. She dropped her bundle of letters there before turning to face him again. "What is it?"
Jameson sighed. The letter was folded and returned to the envelope as promptly as it had been read. "Business.", he murmured. Unlocking his desk drawer he quickly slipped the letter in before closing and immediately locking it. Coatleque had sauntered her way to his desk by then, with slow, alternating steps that seemed to cross each other.
"Now then. What can I do for you?" He sounded weary. Just barely, but she had spent enough time with him now to tell when things were not going as planned. "For me? Nothing. I am not here for me. I expected you back tomorrow. Is something wrong?"
Jameson pursed his lips as if considering just how much he could trust her with, and then inclined his head. "A few things. Would that the people I trust the most actually do their jobs." His eyes narrowed as he spoke, his tone taking on an accusing timbre.
She cautiously moved closer then, crossing behind him and even daring to reach out and rub his shoulders over the back of his chair. He flicked a slight look of displeasure in her direction before reaching over and taking another sheaf of paper from the unlocked portion of his desk. Coatleque slowly stopped and retreated back to his side and behind. Her head bowed, she said nothing more as she stared towards the floor.
Jameson ignored her as he began a new letter addressed to a lord named "Hand". His handwriting was slow and deliberate as if focusing whatever was angering him into the very quill against the parchment. She maintained her silence until he chose to break it. Softly, curtly. "Your task bore no fruit, I note."
"My task is not yet complete..." she offered in rebuttal almost immediately, yet softly.
"Good. You will be... pleased to know Anden Anduron will no longer be your problem."
"... Why is that?"
"I have arranged for his freedom... and deportment. Of a sort."
"You... are letting him go?"
He did not pause nor falter in his writing as the letter continued to grow. From her position she could not make any of it out herself. His voice had become quieter though, more focused. "I need beasts of burden I can count on. He is a blunt instrument to be sure, but no more than some. And he is... loyal." The word was cut off with the click of his teeth as if biting it off specifically.
"It is not in my power to let him go. All I am doing is influencing those who do have the power to do my bidding. Surely that is not too hard to grasp?"
"... N-no." She took a slow breath and continued to stare at the floor, keeping her position.
"He will likely still be facing extradition charges, but anyone who even half cares will need venture up half a frozen mountain to find him." His voice dropped to a murmur just then. "And he can be my eyes, ears, and primary blade in that Halone-forsaken part of the world."
"James... is this entirely wise?" She ventured the question, unsure how he would react. She could not remain silent though, knowing what Anden had done. "N-not that I would stop you, but... he is not popular with the people. They will hear he has been released."
"Yes, they probably will." Jameson answered almost immediately, as if this had all been thought through. "There will be questions. They won't find their way back to me. I am telling you because you are my paramour and I trust you."
Coatleque found herself clutching at the silver key around her neck. She could only nod, quietly. Jameson continued his letter with every bit of determination. After a moment he nodded to himself and set it aside. "Lazarov is gaining on us." He spoke still in a murmur as if he did not want her to overhear. "With every ilm we lose."
"About that..."
He glanced to her sharply.
"Our raid in the Goblet was not entirely fruitless. Now that I know how owns the business. He and I have crossed paths before. A former lover of Natalie's. He does... owe me. Only he has proven elusive to track down."
C'kayah Polaali had in truth been absent since the night they attempted to infiltrate his business in the Goblet. She currently had squires out scouring the city to find him. She knew he would not have gone far and was eager to put this matter behind them. "Had I known he was involved beforehand... things would have gone differently." She added afterwords.
His expression turned somewhat thoughtful. "Name?"
"Polaali. C'kayah Polaali. A smuggler and vagrant."
"I see. And what are his feelings about Lazarov?"
"I do not know if he was involved directly with Lazarov," she began "but nothing would have passed through his house without him knowing. He is fiercely loyal to Ul'dah and has provided me with valuable information in the past. Which is why I... allow him to continue to operate. If he is aware of Lazarov's intent, I am sure he will talk to me."
Whether it was her confession or the news itself, his mood seemed to improve slightly. He did not reply though, only shot her a smirk from the side.
"We have one other lead, which..." She cut herself off before continuing as if she had reconsidered even mentioning this.
"... Master Gharen Wolfsong is tracking down."
"Deneith's... brother." he murmured in response with some distaste.
"James... even he can see that you tread the higher ground in this case. He may not like you, but he is helping me. Trying his best to disrupt supply lines to Lazarov. Hinder whatever he is planning."
Her concern over him caused another shift of his mood as his expression turned odd. "Love. My friends need not be yours, not vice versa. I rather enjoy our varied paths and associates." He sighed and rose, turning to face her.
"We will stop him. I promise." She replied in as reassuring a tone as she could manage.
Drawing closer to her, he seemed oddly melancholy for her words. "I have every confidence." A hand rose to toy with her collar as though it had been crooked again. His change of demeanor did cause her to relax from her submissive poise. "I count on you," he said quietly. "You know that."
Her head bowed once more. "I know. I wish I was more effective for you. My skills lay in... other areas. But... there was another issue, one of your shipments through Camp Drybone...."
"Oh?"
"Your valet was injured."
His voice remained low. "But you are learning more than a few valuable lessons. And--oh. Yes, he wrote me. I expect his return sometime this night."
"So soon?" she said with some astonishment. "I made the trip to be sure he was not on his death bed. With him gone, I have been directing the servants as best I can, but..."
Jameson only smirked at her. "Coatleque, that is beneath you. I did not always have a manservant. I assure you I thrived." This was not the first time he had expressed as much when she fussed over certain trivialities of the day. She was finally able to meet his gaze with some measure of confidence though. "And I am beneath you, am I not?"
His composure held for a brief moment as he adjusted the scarf around her neck. "Sometimes. Other times I am beneath you." It did not last long before he laughed his typical sly laugh. She looked at him blankly before realizing what she had said and turning her head away, cheeks nearly matching her hair.
"Oh, stop." He purred. "You would do anything I requested, barring a third party in the bed. I know you too well." His hand continued to toy with her collar.
"As I said... my skills are in other areas." She finally managed to stammer, choosing not to fight the situation.
He smiled. "Your news pleases me. I will accept some form of relaxation later tonight. I may have a specific request or two..." With that he tightened the scarf around her neck just a bit. She turned to look back into his eyes. "O-of course, my love. You have been away some time. I imagine you are quite eager." Her expression changed to worry as she examined the crease of his brow. "Yet... you look so weary. Are you sure nothing is wrong?"
Jameson's weight shifted as he drew closer to her, his voice turning sad even. "Much is wrong. Much is right. We struggle. That is part of the fun."
"But are not the wrongs easier to bear with someone else?" They stood silently together for a moment. "James?... Love?"
"Not if they add to the burden." He cupped her cheek with one hand to which she leaned into.
"There are times I fear... we walk too different a path."
"And other times?" she asked.
"And other times I feel we are precisely where we need to be."
He kissed her. Softly, swiftly. Her hand rose and held firm against his chest.
"I have kept my duty separate from... us. Despite the protests of some. Nobody has found true fault yet."
An arm suddenly swept her closer with a deepened embrace, yet his fingers graced the edge of her jaw with a feather's touch.
"And they should not. You are my sterling silver, Coatleque. You should remain unimpeachable in most regards."
She turned her head against him just then, resting against his shoulder.
"Is that for my protection, or yours?"
He looked up with a frown though she could not see it.
"I can protect myself. You have worked hard to get where you are." He tapped her lower lip with a gloved fingertip. "That being said, I am pleased you see the worth of dogs like Wolfsong." he said with another murmur.
His words gave her pause then as she leaned back, looking up to him. "Have I? And where am I?"
"I assume you have." His voice turned almost playful. This was a game he nearly enjoyed. "Did you f**k your way to the top?" Vulgarity from him was certainly rare. It would have caught anyone else off guard, perhaps even humorously.
"That is not funny." she said pointedly, insulted even. "I had no choice." It was her turn to frown now.
"Dear, your past life would have found little purchase. At least in most regards."
"... perhaps not, but I was happy. I was to be married. To have my own life. Now... now I serve others for twelve hours of every day."
She found herself now pushing away from him, slinking along the wall behind his desk towards the bar. He merely watched her with dark amusement over the whole thing. "It certainly brings to light a question if you did not work to get where you are at."
"I was a slave, James. That is not work..." she replied with masked pain.
"I fail to make the distinction then, between those skills and the ones needed to move up a Sultansworn ladder. I am however, quite curious now. Married? To whom?" Her annoyance faded into sadness as she turned away from him then. "What does it matter? He is dead now."
"What ended him, if I may be so bold?" Jameson came up beside her and selected a bottle of wine and two glasses. Coatleque glanced his way before moving back across the room to the table by the hearth. Quietly she began to sort them into separate piles by what she thought looked important. She honestly did not know if they were, but it was a distraction. "I did." she said at length.
He flicked a sharp look her way before going back to his preparations. It was certainly not the answer he expected. She knew more questions would follow so she decided to head them off. "I let him walk away. I let him approach the brigands. I let him die on the beach." Jameson had in the mean time crossed the room to stand between her and the fireplace, holding out one of the glasses for her. She hesitantly took the glass letting her fingers feel his gloved hand before holding the wine quietly and staring at the centerpiece of the table.
"It was his choice to approach. You merely allowed it. You did not kill him." His words were offered in at least some measure of quiet reverence as he tried to comfort her his own way. She took a drink and lowered the glass. "Well I certainly did not stop him. And when I cried out I doomed the rest of my village." Jameson listened to her quietly while he sipped his own glass. She closed here eyes then and took a slow breath in, then out. Another drink before she composed herself in front of him.
"As I said. What does it matter?"
"You did not. The brigands did. Men kill. It does not matter. I am saddened for your village, less so for your betrothed."
"why should you be? You did not know them."
He shrugged slightly. "Call me selfish. I enjoy your company."
Coatleque sighed. "As do I yours. I should not darken the evening with such memories." He shrugged again and she was about to set her glass down when he stopped her. "It is a dark night, dark thoughts are welcome." He raised his own glass in a darkly ironic toast which she joined before draining her glass. After another moment of silence she gestured to the piles of letters. "More business I presume?"
"Of course."
She turned and crossed the room once more to set her glass at the bar for Mister North to collect later. Jameson meanwhile collected the envelopes and returned to his desk, unlocking the drawer, and laying them within after a cursory glance. Closing the drawer he locked it without further word. Coatleque joined him once more from the left side, again standing slightly behind with her hands folded in front of her.
"What dark thoughts cross your mind this eve, then?"
"Many and more." He said with a sigh. "I have been seeking... expansion in other locales. As they present themselves. Timely that they should arise just as my troubles with Lazarov take sour turns. And so I must needs... assuage fears." He glanced to her. "You understand the importance of repute."
"I do. It is just... do you plan to travel over much?"
He frowned. "If I must". It was followed by a slight chuckle. "Why, would you relish a holiday?"
She found herself smiling at the notion. "We could both use one. But... no. I was given a rather dire warning by someone."
His interest was piqued once more as an eyebrow lifted. "What sort?"
"She said that people would be coming for you. That I should not be in their way."
The other brow lifted. "And who gave this?"
"... who else do you know that is seemingly out to ruin you? Lazarov is no woman."
"My dear, I have more enemies than I can count. A hazard of my business. Was it Deneith?" He ended with a knowing frown.
"It was."
Coatleque found her voice quieting the longer they ventured down this line of questioning. She knew full well what he expected her to do, yet once again she kept to her neutrality. His eyes narrowed on her. "How did she deliver this little missive to you?"
"That is not entirely important. What is, though, is your life. I am worried what she has planned."
"It is important to me, Coatleque." he replied quietly.
She crossed her arms and set her jaw, feigning confidence. "In person. Near the Sancrarium."
His expression did not change, thankfully, maintaining a rather neutral look. "And she had you outnumbered."
"We were... not alone. And I had another threat to deal with, concerning your favorite Lantern reporter."
He made a face at that, and the pressure was seemly thrown off of her apparent failure.
"Wonderful. Very well, what is the threat?"
She rubbed at her forehead with one hand as if even she could not believe. "Her most libelous work yet. I should have shown it to you for your amusement alone. I decided to spare you the stress. It has not been printed, but her threat was real enough. It would have hurt both you and Lazarov. Painting you as being in league with each other, and with Roen and I trying to over it all up."
"She is an idiot who makes up very convenient truths." Jameson observed. She nodded in agreement.
"I can handle Miss Llorn, though. Roen... is no longer welcome in the city." She added to reassure him.
"What is her exact aim? No one believes her idiocy any more."
"To sell her drivel?"
"Well then, one thing at a time."
With that, Jameson put a hand to his ear. "Esmond. I require you." He was clearly not happy at this point as he unlocked a lower drawer and withdrew a small coffer. From it he retrieved two small bags of coins. Each one he tied with short, sharp gestures. She watched him while they awaited Mister Dirk's arrival. He stopped and stared at the door with obvious displeasure at the lack of promptness. Coatleque decided to distract him with another question, for her own sake if not for Esmond's.
"Perhaps I may inquire something of you?"
"Yes." he murmured.
"How... do you feel about children?"
The question startled him almost immediately and he glanced her way.
"Why? Is there something I need to know?"
"About?"
She tilted her head inquiringly before starting herself and waving her hands in quick denial.
"Oh... OH! ... no, that is not what I meant!"
Mister Dirk quietly entered the room just then, bowed, and stood straight in front of his desk. "My lord." Jameson's attention was turned back to the man while Coatleque once again had to compose herself, face flushing red.
"I require you..." he began, "to contact two mercenaries and bring them to me. Tonight. The Holbrook girl, and the meaty cretin she keeps in tow. I have need of their services." With that he shoved the two rather thick bags of coin across the desk. "Fully armed. Their first task will be carried out at dawn."
Esmond took the bags and tied them to his belt securely. "Aye, my lord, at once. I shall check the usual places." To this James smirked one of his sly and knowing smiles. The man bowed once more before making his exit. As the door latched quietly, Coatleque was chewing her bottom lip. Jameson addressed her directly once more with measured disgust.
"I am beyond weary of this ghost of a woman who is apparently so charming she cannot even bring my paramour to secure her." She stopped chewing her lip and looked to the floor once more in silence. "As to your question," he continued with a clipped tone. "I of course require children. But not before marriage. And I will require a wife who is loyal to me as much as she is to herself. And those sorts of matches are truly rare, it seems to me."
There was a long pause between them as she mulled over his words. Her failure. His... promise. "I... I c-can do better." she stammered. "As can I." he replied softly with a sigh. "Being wary in all corners of my life is taxing, Coatleque."
"As enticing as that sounds, though... it was also not what I... what I mean."
"Ah. What did you mean."
She held her tongue for a moment, considering if she even wanted to ask the question, so horrible as it was.
"Would you put them to the sword?"
He blinked, clearly not understanding her meaning. "Why would I put -- Oh... not mychildren. Any children?" The new understanding was clearly disturbing even to him, and it caused her to relax somewhat as she nodded. "To what end?" he asked.
"Not to an end... simply to end. Them. Or perhaps for revenge? Does it matter?"
"You have been reading too many tragedies." he retorted.
Coatleque's expression turned to one of imploring hope as if she were trying to coax the answer from his lips that she so desperately wanted to hear. "I... I just needed to know. That there is still a line that would not be crossed."
"Coatleque. The only reason to kill children would be so they do not grow up to be a threat. And we're talking a twenty year span here, like as not. There is no reason to be that... far-thinking. It verges on paranoia, and is barbaric on top of that. Has the journalist equated me with Lazarov to that degree?"
She exhaled in sharp relief finally. "No, she has not."
"Then who filled your mind with such nonsense?"
"Rumors that I have confirmed from multiple sources now, that Lazarov has exterminated an entire house. Not his hand directly, but he signed their death sentences, down to the last child and manservant."
Jameson nodded. "It is not rumor." he said quietly. "It is fact. And it is one of the reasons he must be removed. He is ruthless beyond measure or even common reason." He finally finished his own glass of the wine and passed it to her. She set it on the bar next to her own.
"If there are men coming for you..." she turned back to him from the bar. "I beg you, be careful. For me."
"I rarely go anywhere without accompaniment these days. Fret not." He sighed. "Though that is its own burden." He shook his head as if suddenly remembering an appointment or some such. "There will be no holidays for either of us, likely. Not in the near future. Do you have an associate you trust? Truly trust? I will need them to take a sensitive message to Coerthas. I may need my dog off his leash sooner than I planned. And he should have been removed from the city as of five hours ago."
"... Anden?" she breathed pensively. "I... no, I have no one I would trust for that. Nobody else in the Order would understand as I do."
"Very well." He sighed. "I will... find someone else suitable for the task."
"If it was anyone else it would be a different matter. As I said, he is not well liked."
Jameson laughed a short, humorless laugh. "No, he is not. For good reason. Despite his breeding, Anduron is a brute. The sands of the arena run through his veins. He needs blood on his hands or he is not happy."
"I would say he has had enough already."
"Not enough by far." He scowled. "Tragically. We needs move up our timetable."
"I could find mercenaries, though I would not say I trust them."
"No." He replied curtly. "I'll find another to contact Anduron."
"Of course." She fell silent once more to his side.
"Leave me for the nonce, Coatleque. I have... wars to wage, and blood to spill from my pen." She regarded him for another moment. He did appear more tired now than she had ever seen him, and for that she felt a twinge of sorrow. Passing behind his chair she brushed a hand across his shoulders. "Until later, my Lord..." With that she let herself out of the office as quietly as she arrived.
