The Hazards of Free Trade: Chapter Five - Diplomacy
The tea had long since gone cold and still no end in sight. Jelleneth let her gaze wander to the window and studied the play of light and shadow on the grass as Lord Sunstrike's monologue continued. Every now and again she would nod, or utter a small grunt of assent, otherwise she simply let the words pass over her. It's not as though it made any difference. He would ramble on and on about this or that slight shift in the ever-changing political tides of the new Silvermoon, giving his opinion of them and then asking if she agreed with his assessment. But, as with so many things in politics, what he said and what he meant were two very different things. He would ask, "What do you think?" but was in fact truly wondering, "What does your brother think?" And as her brother was likely to concur with anything this puffed up blowhard said, at least in the man's presence, smiling and nodding seemed the most diplomatic course. It did, however, come with the unfortunate side effect of making the man enjoy her company and seek it out rather more frequently than she would like. This was his second visit in a week and he had stayed for nearly three hours so far with no hint that he was likely to leave anytime soon. Her patience was beginning to wear quite thin.
A single word in the stream caught at her attention and she shook off her lethargy, tilting her head to actually listen to what the man was saying.
"It was a predictable appointment, of course. given their history. But I think the man can ill afford such obvious bias. We need a Ranger General more.. progressive than Halduron Brightwing if the Farstriders are to adapt to their new role."
"And what role is that?" she asked with syrupy sweetness as she leaned forward to pour the last of the lukewarm tea into his cup. He did not notice the tone, blathering on as usual.
"The Blood Knights have rendered them superfluous. They cannot expect to wield the same political power as before when their value to the city has all but disappeared. It's absurd." He snorted into his tea, rolling his fel-green eyes. "But, of course, you cannot say such things to a man like Lorthemar. Too attached to his former ties. Biased, as I said. Can't imagine what His Highness was thinking with -that- appointment."
"Perhaps he was thinking the Reconstruction would be better handled by the type of man who might actually do some work, rather than the type who sits around sipping tea all day and complaining that everyone else is doing their job incorrectly?"
Her tone did not change, still full of syrupy sweetness and innocent inquiry, so much so that the man actually mumbled "Yes, yes quite." into his tea before his brain caught up with his ears and he choked and spluttered. Jelleneth held out a napkin for him, all smiles, and continued speaking. She was actually beginning to quite enjoy this visit.
"I don't see how the addition of the Blood Knights has done much to change the 'role' of the Farstriders. I've seen no Knights standing vigil on the Scar, or throwing themselves at the Amani to defend our weakened borders. Keeping order in the city itself or interrogating any Wretched the rangers manage to capture, oh yes, that they do quite handily. Very enthusiastic about their duties. So long as those duties don't take them more than an hour's travel away from a warm bed and a ready crystal."
Lord Sunstrike was slowly turning a rather ugly shade of purple, making small puffing noises like a teapot on the verge of boiling, working himself up to a blustering explosion. Jelleneth pressed on before he had a chance to begin.
"Halduron is the perfect man for the job because he understands quite well that the 'role' of the Farstriders is, as ever, to do all of the unpleasant, hard, dirty work that the rest of you refuse to lower yourselves to."
"We have never been unwilling-" Sunstrike began, but she cut him off quickly, pulse racing. She felt more alive than she had in months.
"Oh yes. The Knights, the nobility.. you're all quite happy to get your hands dirty. So long as there's no actual dirt involved. Just as-"
"And what are we dirtying our hands with then, Jelleneth?" A firm voice from behind her cut across her words and brought her joyous high crashing back to the ground again. She turned her head to see Torian standing in the doorway, polished armor glinting in the dim light. She wasn't sure how much of the conversation he had overheard but by his expression it was clear that he had heard enough.
"I..uh.." was all that she managed before he swept into the room, dropping into a low bow before the, still red-faced and puffing, nobleman.
"I apologize for the girl's thoughtlessness. She has been.. sheltered. She does not know what she speaks of."
Jelleneth nearly snapped a reply to that but the sharp look Torian shot her as he rose from the bow silenced her. Lord Sunstrike was not about to be placated, however. He stormed from the room in a huff, stopping at the front door to wait for Jelleneth to open it for him. She didn't rush about it, which earned her another angry glare from her brother. Their guest did not look at her as he swept out but he turned just on the other side of the door to speak to Torian. "I heard what happened to your other sister and I am sorry for it. Such a waste. Such a pity."
It took no effort to read the true meaning behind those words. His posture, his tone, every tight muscle in his face all said quite clearly "A pity it wasn't this sister."
Torian answered without missing a beat. "Yes. It was."
He stood facing the door for a moment after it was closed again, breathing in and out very slowly before turning and fixing his sister with steely eyes. His voice was deadly calm. "Perhaps I was too hasty in leaving you in charge of our household affairs. I had thought the past months had led to some maturity on your part. Clearly this is not the case. Ethiriel would have been a better choice for Lady of the House. I will send for her. And after you have apprised her of the duties she is to be taking over you are to keep yourself well out of her way. Is this understood?"
Jelleneth bristled. She wanted to shout at him that she was not a child to be ordered about, but arguing with her brother always had the effect of making her feel extremely childish. She took a few deep breaths of her own and managed to answer him with ice, rather than fire. "And what, exactly, are -my- new duties to be?"
He lifted a brow at her, regarding her with that patronizing smile that she always wanted to throw something heavy at. "Perhaps you can busy yourself in the gardens. There is an abundance of dirt out there."
***
Jelleneth's back hit the iron wall, hard, knocking the air from her lungs. A gray fist followed after her, on a collision course with her face and she rolled to one side, wheezing, leaving her opponent to punch the wall instead. There was an unpleasant crunching sound followed by some loud shouting in dwarfish as he pulled his shattered hand to his chest. Jelleneth took advantage of his distraction to throw her body at his back. His forehead connected with the wall and the dwarf slumped to the floor, unconscious.
She had no time to celebrate the small victory, however, as a pair of thick arms grabbed her from behind, lifting her up to slam her down onto one of the tables. Her body scattered a collection of iron mugs, leaving her soaked in ale. Her fingers closed around the handle of one of them, bringing it up and into the face of her attacker as he closed the gap to press his advantage. A spray of blood and teeth followed him to his knees.
She rolled off of the table and then fell to the floor, her legs refusing to support her weight. She tried to lift herself up on her arms, but they shook with the effort and then gave out. She heard a rasping laugh and looked up into the eyes of a dwarven woman with a small imp sitting on her shoulder. Two sets of beady eyes glittered down at her cruelly as the woman began another fel incantation, hands beginning to glow with green fire. Jelleneth squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the burning pain she knew was coming.
It didn't. Instead the chanting cut off with a muffled thump. She opened one eye tentatively to see Rhyce grinning down at her. "I think your diplomacy might need a bit o' work, Cap'n." He offered her a hand, and let her lean her weight against him as they surveyed the damage they had done. A wide circle of groaning, bleeding, or unconscious dwarves surrounded them amongst the broken chairs and upturned tables.
Jelleneth chuckled. "Yours seems to be spot on."
Whatever reply would have accompanied the merry twinkle in the old sailor's eye was lost in a sudden ominous clicking from the landing above them, the sort of sound made by a large number of guns being readied, which is precisely what it was. The elves slowly brought their heads up to stare at the line of riflemen aiming down at them. "I'm thinkin'.." Rhyce mumbled quietly. "That this was a bad plan Cap'n."
The line parted and a well dressed dwarf grinned down at them, his red hair and beard standing out against his gray skin and making him look more like a creature of soot and flame than a mortal being. He let out a deep, rich laugh as he overlooked the wreckage of the tavern. "Not bad at'all fer a couple o' elves." A nod at the riflemen as he turned away. "Let em through boys. Me an' the lady gots some business to discuss."
She left Rhyce in the tavern proper to share a drink with the guards as she accompanied Durrag into his cramped and foul smelling office. He took a seat behind the overturned sentry golem that served as his desk and propped his feet up. "Now.. ye be wantin' a crate o' Dark Iron from me." He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Tricky.. tricky. Not tha sort o' thing we usually give away ta outsiders. What were ya plannin' ta offer fer it?"
Jelleneth sighed. "I told you. I've got nothing to offer but the promise that I can fetch something you want in exchange for it. Within reason." She amended quickly.
The dwarf huffed. "So ye said.." He lapsed into silence for a few more seconds of beard stroking, then he hopped to his feet, crossing the office to grin up at her. "Well, lassie.. I think we can come to some arrangement. You want tha crate. I want six kegs o' Thunder Ale. NOT.." he waved a finger under her nose. "Not because it's better than -our- ale mind ya. Jus' because a body gets a mite tired o' tha same old thing day in and day out eh?"
"Ask me my opinion of fish some time.." she muttered in Thalassian. The dwarf blinked up at her in incomprehension. She reverted to Orcish again. "Six seems a bit steep.."
"Six is tha deal because I've gotten a wee bit fond of ya." The dwarf replied with a wink. "Otherwise I'da asked for twelve."
~
"Six!" Rhyce shouted for the third time. "D'ye have any idea how much the goblins'll charge us to import even one o' those kegs. I think we'll owe em the ship plus a year's indentured service for six o' the bloody things!"
"Yes. I know." she answered calmly. That's why we're not going to the goblins. I'm done with juggling middle men. For this, I think we'll just go to the source."
"Oh aye? We'll just stride inta Dun Morogh with our eyes a'glowin green and ask em if we can have a drink?"
She shook her head, a predatory smile beginning to form on her lips. "I wasn't planning to ask for anything. Are we pirates or aren't we?"
Rhyce sucked a breath in through his teeth. "Dwarves take their boozin' ver' seriously, Cap'n. Merchant ships carryin' ale run as heavily gunned as military ships. With almost as many marines. I don' think it's a viable option."
"Don' you worry yur wee head about it." She ruffled his hair, imitating his accent, poorly. "Your Cap'n.. has a Plan."
He scowled at her. "Ye forget I was there fer the last plan."
"Gonna need the last barrel of the good rum." She continued, ignoring his comment.
He stopped dead in his tracks and blinked at her back. "Do we get to mebbe vote on this plan, Cap'n?"
A single word in the stream caught at her attention and she shook off her lethargy, tilting her head to actually listen to what the man was saying.
"It was a predictable appointment, of course. given their history. But I think the man can ill afford such obvious bias. We need a Ranger General more.. progressive than Halduron Brightwing if the Farstriders are to adapt to their new role."
"And what role is that?" she asked with syrupy sweetness as she leaned forward to pour the last of the lukewarm tea into his cup. He did not notice the tone, blathering on as usual.
"The Blood Knights have rendered them superfluous. They cannot expect to wield the same political power as before when their value to the city has all but disappeared. It's absurd." He snorted into his tea, rolling his fel-green eyes. "But, of course, you cannot say such things to a man like Lorthemar. Too attached to his former ties. Biased, as I said. Can't imagine what His Highness was thinking with -that- appointment."
"Perhaps he was thinking the Reconstruction would be better handled by the type of man who might actually do some work, rather than the type who sits around sipping tea all day and complaining that everyone else is doing their job incorrectly?"
Her tone did not change, still full of syrupy sweetness and innocent inquiry, so much so that the man actually mumbled "Yes, yes quite." into his tea before his brain caught up with his ears and he choked and spluttered. Jelleneth held out a napkin for him, all smiles, and continued speaking. She was actually beginning to quite enjoy this visit.
"I don't see how the addition of the Blood Knights has done much to change the 'role' of the Farstriders. I've seen no Knights standing vigil on the Scar, or throwing themselves at the Amani to defend our weakened borders. Keeping order in the city itself or interrogating any Wretched the rangers manage to capture, oh yes, that they do quite handily. Very enthusiastic about their duties. So long as those duties don't take them more than an hour's travel away from a warm bed and a ready crystal."
Lord Sunstrike was slowly turning a rather ugly shade of purple, making small puffing noises like a teapot on the verge of boiling, working himself up to a blustering explosion. Jelleneth pressed on before he had a chance to begin.
"Halduron is the perfect man for the job because he understands quite well that the 'role' of the Farstriders is, as ever, to do all of the unpleasant, hard, dirty work that the rest of you refuse to lower yourselves to."
"We have never been unwilling-" Sunstrike began, but she cut him off quickly, pulse racing. She felt more alive than she had in months.
"Oh yes. The Knights, the nobility.. you're all quite happy to get your hands dirty. So long as there's no actual dirt involved. Just as-"
"And what are we dirtying our hands with then, Jelleneth?" A firm voice from behind her cut across her words and brought her joyous high crashing back to the ground again. She turned her head to see Torian standing in the doorway, polished armor glinting in the dim light. She wasn't sure how much of the conversation he had overheard but by his expression it was clear that he had heard enough.
"I..uh.." was all that she managed before he swept into the room, dropping into a low bow before the, still red-faced and puffing, nobleman.
"I apologize for the girl's thoughtlessness. She has been.. sheltered. She does not know what she speaks of."
Jelleneth nearly snapped a reply to that but the sharp look Torian shot her as he rose from the bow silenced her. Lord Sunstrike was not about to be placated, however. He stormed from the room in a huff, stopping at the front door to wait for Jelleneth to open it for him. She didn't rush about it, which earned her another angry glare from her brother. Their guest did not look at her as he swept out but he turned just on the other side of the door to speak to Torian. "I heard what happened to your other sister and I am sorry for it. Such a waste. Such a pity."
It took no effort to read the true meaning behind those words. His posture, his tone, every tight muscle in his face all said quite clearly "A pity it wasn't this sister."
Torian answered without missing a beat. "Yes. It was."
He stood facing the door for a moment after it was closed again, breathing in and out very slowly before turning and fixing his sister with steely eyes. His voice was deadly calm. "Perhaps I was too hasty in leaving you in charge of our household affairs. I had thought the past months had led to some maturity on your part. Clearly this is not the case. Ethiriel would have been a better choice for Lady of the House. I will send for her. And after you have apprised her of the duties she is to be taking over you are to keep yourself well out of her way. Is this understood?"
Jelleneth bristled. She wanted to shout at him that she was not a child to be ordered about, but arguing with her brother always had the effect of making her feel extremely childish. She took a few deep breaths of her own and managed to answer him with ice, rather than fire. "And what, exactly, are -my- new duties to be?"
He lifted a brow at her, regarding her with that patronizing smile that she always wanted to throw something heavy at. "Perhaps you can busy yourself in the gardens. There is an abundance of dirt out there."
***
Jelleneth's back hit the iron wall, hard, knocking the air from her lungs. A gray fist followed after her, on a collision course with her face and she rolled to one side, wheezing, leaving her opponent to punch the wall instead. There was an unpleasant crunching sound followed by some loud shouting in dwarfish as he pulled his shattered hand to his chest. Jelleneth took advantage of his distraction to throw her body at his back. His forehead connected with the wall and the dwarf slumped to the floor, unconscious.
She had no time to celebrate the small victory, however, as a pair of thick arms grabbed her from behind, lifting her up to slam her down onto one of the tables. Her body scattered a collection of iron mugs, leaving her soaked in ale. Her fingers closed around the handle of one of them, bringing it up and into the face of her attacker as he closed the gap to press his advantage. A spray of blood and teeth followed him to his knees.
She rolled off of the table and then fell to the floor, her legs refusing to support her weight. She tried to lift herself up on her arms, but they shook with the effort and then gave out. She heard a rasping laugh and looked up into the eyes of a dwarven woman with a small imp sitting on her shoulder. Two sets of beady eyes glittered down at her cruelly as the woman began another fel incantation, hands beginning to glow with green fire. Jelleneth squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the burning pain she knew was coming.
It didn't. Instead the chanting cut off with a muffled thump. She opened one eye tentatively to see Rhyce grinning down at her. "I think your diplomacy might need a bit o' work, Cap'n." He offered her a hand, and let her lean her weight against him as they surveyed the damage they had done. A wide circle of groaning, bleeding, or unconscious dwarves surrounded them amongst the broken chairs and upturned tables.
Jelleneth chuckled. "Yours seems to be spot on."
Whatever reply would have accompanied the merry twinkle in the old sailor's eye was lost in a sudden ominous clicking from the landing above them, the sort of sound made by a large number of guns being readied, which is precisely what it was. The elves slowly brought their heads up to stare at the line of riflemen aiming down at them. "I'm thinkin'.." Rhyce mumbled quietly. "That this was a bad plan Cap'n."
The line parted and a well dressed dwarf grinned down at them, his red hair and beard standing out against his gray skin and making him look more like a creature of soot and flame than a mortal being. He let out a deep, rich laugh as he overlooked the wreckage of the tavern. "Not bad at'all fer a couple o' elves." A nod at the riflemen as he turned away. "Let em through boys. Me an' the lady gots some business to discuss."
She left Rhyce in the tavern proper to share a drink with the guards as she accompanied Durrag into his cramped and foul smelling office. He took a seat behind the overturned sentry golem that served as his desk and propped his feet up. "Now.. ye be wantin' a crate o' Dark Iron from me." He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Tricky.. tricky. Not tha sort o' thing we usually give away ta outsiders. What were ya plannin' ta offer fer it?"
Jelleneth sighed. "I told you. I've got nothing to offer but the promise that I can fetch something you want in exchange for it. Within reason." She amended quickly.
The dwarf huffed. "So ye said.." He lapsed into silence for a few more seconds of beard stroking, then he hopped to his feet, crossing the office to grin up at her. "Well, lassie.. I think we can come to some arrangement. You want tha crate. I want six kegs o' Thunder Ale. NOT.." he waved a finger under her nose. "Not because it's better than -our- ale mind ya. Jus' because a body gets a mite tired o' tha same old thing day in and day out eh?"
"Ask me my opinion of fish some time.." she muttered in Thalassian. The dwarf blinked up at her in incomprehension. She reverted to Orcish again. "Six seems a bit steep.."
"Six is tha deal because I've gotten a wee bit fond of ya." The dwarf replied with a wink. "Otherwise I'da asked for twelve."
~
"Six!" Rhyce shouted for the third time. "D'ye have any idea how much the goblins'll charge us to import even one o' those kegs. I think we'll owe em the ship plus a year's indentured service for six o' the bloody things!"
"Yes. I know." she answered calmly. That's why we're not going to the goblins. I'm done with juggling middle men. For this, I think we'll just go to the source."
"Oh aye? We'll just stride inta Dun Morogh with our eyes a'glowin green and ask em if we can have a drink?"
She shook her head, a predatory smile beginning to form on her lips. "I wasn't planning to ask for anything. Are we pirates or aren't we?"
Rhyce sucked a breath in through his teeth. "Dwarves take their boozin' ver' seriously, Cap'n. Merchant ships carryin' ale run as heavily gunned as military ships. With almost as many marines. I don' think it's a viable option."
"Don' you worry yur wee head about it." She ruffled his hair, imitating his accent, poorly. "Your Cap'n.. has a Plan."
He scowled at her. "Ye forget I was there fer the last plan."
"Gonna need the last barrel of the good rum." She continued, ignoring his comment.
He stopped dead in his tracks and blinked at her back. "Do we get to mebbe vote on this plan, Cap'n?"