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Post by Charlotte on May 19, 2015 21:20:29 GMT -6
Laus was not the most pleasant place to make a residence. The sky was either cloudy or poured down rain, the locals were all generally involved in some sort of crime, and not to mention, now monsters were not uncommonly spotted on the outskirts of the city center. If a citizen had a way out of Laus, they generally took it as fast as possible. Then, who could blame them?
Not Charlotte Myska, though. The woman owned a small residence in Laus - just large enough for a bed, a dresser, and a closet, along with a small kitchen and a cellar where she could store items she was in the process of moving or selling. Barely furnished, the place really served as a place for her to store her clothing - many of which were expensive dresses and other clothing accoutrements either purchased or, more likely, gifted to her by pining nobles. While the closet was a colorful assortment of silks, chiffons, and tulles, the rest of the home was barely furnished, the only exception being a goose down-filled mattress and comforter on the bed - a small luxury she afforded herself in the dingy place. It was no mansion, but it gave Charlotte a way to stay in the thick of it in the Lycian black market, most of which flowed to and from Laus, as well as Santaruz. It was rare that the blonde found herself actually staying in her small home for an extended period of time, but unfortunately her trip to the Western Isles had forced her to take leave to her tiny residence. Battered and broken, Charlotte had been lucky to escape the Isles in one piece, though largely thanks for that had to go to Saturos. If he hadn’t found her in the cellar under the bishop’s storehouse… well, she shuddered at the thought of where she’d be now.
But she had made it to Laus, and laying on her bed with her eyes closed, she tried to ignore the coarse hands poking and prodding her right digits, which was becoming increasingly difficult.
The blonde sighed. “What, are you daft Loretta? Just fix it alread-AH!”
Charlotte clenched her unbroken left hand into a fist as white-hot pain seared through the entirety of her right side, though it was most intense in her broken right arm and hand. Loretta, a homely Sacaen woman with dark skin and black hair peppered with gray strands, simply clicked her tongue as she continued adjusting the bone’s breaks. “You’re impatient, Saqui,” Loretta sighed, her coarse hands feeling and moving Charlotte’s mangled bones in an attempt to ready them to be healed. “You should know better than to expect this to be easy.”
“For what I’m paying you,” Charlotte snarled, ignoring Loretta’s attempt to soothe her with a forehead glistening with sweat, “I shouldn’t feel a damn thing!”
“Oh hush dear,” Loretta smiled, shaking her head. “You can’t expect charity when you have me travel from my village to this Gaea-forsaken city every time you get hurt. I could ask for a lot more, but I like you Saqui. Now, quiet and let me work.”
Charlotte whimpered as the woman moved to set her middle finger, but remained silent. As much as she hated to admit it, the old woman had gone out of her way to aid Charlotte, and the blonde refused to let any healer other than Loretta handle her severe wounds. While the medic aboard the ship had done what he could to set her right arm, it was still hard to even move her fingers, let alone bend her arm at her elbow. So as soon as they hit land, Charlotte sent a courier for Loretta to meet her in Laus. She’d never been disappointed by Loretta’s work, which meant she had a life-long client in Charlotte. The old Sacaen tribe woman didn’t ask any questions, simply gave her usual knowing smile and went straight to work. Hell, the sweet old woman didn’t even know Charlotte’s name at all, just called her “Saqui,” a pet name that a lot of the women in her tribe used to refer to their children, or husbands if they were childless.
A hefty sigh escaped from the blonde as the Sacaen move to adjust the thief’s ring finger back into place. Despite her rather extensive injuries, Charlotte was content and fairly excited that a certain stone was sewn into some of the padding on her traveling leathers. Once Saturos had recognized there was no way returning the stone to the bishop would secure Charlotte’s safety, he just gave it back to her. Charlotte wasn’t complaining, of course, since it meant she’d be paid by someone for all the trouble she’d gone through, but she was impressed that an Etrurian intelligence operative had that kind of power, just to be able to make a decision on the spot like that.
“Ah!” Charlotte was thrust back to the present for a moment; Loretta had pushed down particularly hard on her forearm, causing the blonde to feel very clearly two bones being re-aligned. She threw her head back, closing her eyes as sweat dripped from her forehead. The pain was nearly unbearable, but it was better than being in the cellar and not knowing what kind of pain would come next. At least she knew what was coming when Loretta pushed and prodded. A contemplative hum buzzed around Charlotte from Loretta before she finally spoke again. “Alright, everything’s been properly set dear.” Charlotte opened her eyes, a sigh of relief coming from her entire body as she watched Loretta pick up her staff. Pointing the sphered end towards the blonde’s arm, the older woman closer her eyes, focusing for a moment before a warm light seemed to envelop the thief. Charlotte closed her eyes again, though this time she did so to lose herself for a moment in the comfort of the woman’s healing light. The pain in her arm seemed to melt away, which told the blonde that the old shaman’s magic was working on her broken limb. “There we go,” Loretta said, prompting Charlotte to looked to Loretta, sitting up and delicately moving her right arm – something she hadn’t done in two and a half weeks’ time. A grin curled the consultant’s lips as she curled her fingers and touched the tips to her palms; they still felt a bit stiff, but she could finally move them. Charlotte looked at Loretta with a content sigh. “You’re a miracle-worker, Loretta, thank you.” The Sacaen shook her head, crossing her arms with a smile. “It is a miracle I deal with you, Saqui, isn’t it?” Staff still in hand, Loretta gathered her small traveling satchel from the foot of the bed, slinging it over her shoulder. “Now try to stay in one piece until winter will you? I can’t disappear to here with harvest approaching. And grow out your hair, I miss those lovely locks.” The blonde stood, arms open for an embrace which the healer accepted and returned. “Now you know I can’t promise anything… but for you I’ll try.” Loretta chuckled, pulling away from Charlotte while keeping her hands on her shoulders. “I won’t be here forever, dear, just try to remember that.” With a light slap on Charlotte’s newly healed shoulder, Loretta rapped the butt of her staff twice on the floor before moving for the door. “I hope I never see this city again.” Charlotte chuckled; Loretta always said that when she came to Laus, and Charlotte always replied the same way. “Me too, Loretta. Me too.”
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Post by Charlotte on May 20, 2015 11:16:14 GMT -6
Loretta having now departed from the consultant’s humble home, Charlotte turned her attention to the next task at hand. With her wounds and breaks taken care of, she finally could turn her attention to the half-destroyed leathers that sat at the bottom of her closet. Opening the door to reveal the room of gorgeous fabric, the blonde bent and retrieved the bloodied leathers, shutting the closet door behind her before walking them over to her small table. Sitting down, Charlotte slowly began popping out the seams that concealed the dragonstone she’d gone through all of this trouble for. Charlotte still had no idea what Balsam wanted with the thing. While in no way an expert on dragons, what little she did know was that the stone only worked for the dragon it belonged to. Otherwise, it was little more than a useless rock for any other person who came across it. Balsam wasn’t the type to be a rock collector, so Charlotte could only assume he stood to gain some sort of power by possessing the stone. Maybe he knew the dragon who owned the stone, or wanted to stick it to Aurelian by having the stone stolen from under his nose. The consultant’s usually nimble fingers fumbled on a seam for a moment as she thought about Aurelian and his men. Just knowing that Aurelian could still exert his influence with little trouble infuriated Charlotte. She didn’t oft hold grudges, but somehow they’d found something on her that gave them her real name, which she hadn’t used since leaving the Isles as a teenager. While she recognized living under a false name might not last forever, Charlotte had expected at least a few more years before she had to cross that bridge, and instead a few of the bishop’s cronies spoiled that hope for her in that cellar. Sighing, Charlotte let her hands rest for a moment, as yet another piece of reality slowly washed over her. She’d been so wrapped up with taking care of her injuries and getting paid for the job that she’d nearly forgotten how Saturos had so graciously ‘offered’ her work with the Etrurian Inquisitional Intelligence. Of course, offer was entirely the wrong word for what had happened; since Saturos had gone so far out of his way, the offer/request had really been a directive. A few months was all she had to recoup and tie up loose ends before she’d have to travel back to Etruria and... well, do whatever it was Saturos did when he wasn’t pretending to be a miner in the Western Isles. Considering how well-informed Saturos seemed on the state of things, Charlotte couldn’t really complain. Coin was just one kind of reward for a job; information was an entirely different type of recompense, and one it seemed many Etrurians dealt with, especially with the Prophet and his influence looming over the nation. Everyone had a secret to hide or share privately, so Charlotte could only hope she might be the one to reveal them. That would make having to work for Etruria tolerable, at least. Finally finished opening the seam, Charlotte pulled the cool stone from the hidden pocket, holding it in her cupped palms and looking it over. It really was a beautiful stone, a sort of opaque ocean-blue cloud contained inside with specks of red and gold flecked throughout. Closing her hands around the stone, she tried to warm the stone with her own warm flesh, but the stone remained cold, as if it were entirely lifeless. Maybe it wasn’t a dragonstone, Charlotte mused, though she doubted the Bishop would have neglected verifying the stone hadn’t occurred naturally. Besides, its surface was too smooth, too perfect to have formed in a cave somewhere.
Placing the stone on top of the dirty leathers now splayed over the table, Charlotte rose again, moving back to the closet. Charlotte had donned a simple sleeveless shirt with dark leggings upon Loretta’s arrival, knowing the healer needed to have easy access to her injuries. Now that the woman was gone, though, it was time for Charlotte to attend to handing over the stone. And that meant she needed to don the proper attire for meeting with a Lord, even one of middling standing like Balsam.
Hmm, should she wear that silk number Balsam always asked about? No no, much too on the nose. Carefully fingering through the dresses as someone might peruse through a library’s collection of tomes, Charlotte rejected dress after dress for various reasons. This one was too long, that one was too short or not revealing enough. But the blonde’s hand finally paused over one that brought a cheeky grin to her face. Yes, this one would do nicely.
After nearly a month and almost more trouble than it was worth, it was finally time for Balsam to provide Charlotte with the pay she’d been promised.
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Post by Charlotte on May 21, 2015 16:16:54 GMT -6
Charlotte smiled as she slinked towards the back gate near the scullery of Lord Balsam’s manor. The man was a noble through and through, always requesting she go through the proper channels to meet with him, but the two had associated with one another long enough that Charlotte rathered showing up unannounced. She had a good enough relationship with his staff that they allowed her to come and go as she please when she was in town.
Rapping her open palm on the tall iron gates three times, the well-dressed blonde crossed her arms as she waited for one of the kitchen maids to arrive. Fall had been kind to the Balsam Manor, with leaves of brilliant shades of mahogany and burgundy clinging to the tall trees, despite the occasional heavy winds. The evergreen bushes that provided the Lord privacy in his yard were neatly trimmed. She breathed in deeply the smell of the freshly-reaped grass, and caught a hint of lead which told her the black iron gates had recently been repainted.
After another moment, the sounds of someone fumbling with the gate latch interrupted Charlotte’s observations, though it was welcome. The blonde smiled as she was greeted by the site of a homely middle-aged woman, with hair tied under a floral cloth headscarf, as well as a round, pregnant belly practically bursting from underneath her long smock-like dress.
As soon as the maid laid eyes on Charlotte, she frowned. “Oh dear, oh dear oh dear oh dear Miss Myscha, whatever happened to ye’?”
Charlotte smiled, knowing the woman referred to the still healing cut above her eye and yellowed, bruised skin. Loretta could speed her healing and mend her bones, but she could do nothing about them cosmetic-wise. That just needed time to heal. “Nothing I haven’t been able to recover from in the past, Mimsy, no need to fret. Besides, you have plenty to worry about yourself. How are you feeling?”
Mimsy rubbed her stubby fingers over her globe-like stomach. “Oh, he’s kickin’ up a storm, Miss Myscha, yes he is. Should be but a few days now before he’s here.”
“Another boy you think? You and your husband are positively resilient,” Charlotte laughed. The woman and her husband had already fathered seven boys and one little girl, and each of their sons were absolute terrors - at least according to Mimsy.
“Oh he better be!” Mimsy joined with a happy chortle. “Artie needs another set of strong hands out in the fields to help with the harvest, what with Jacob and Matteus leavin’ to protect the borders.”
Well that was new. Last she’d spoken to the woman, the two had been considering it, but it seemed they made up their mind. Not smart, considering how they were needed on their parent’s farm. Charlotte was all about chasing ambitions, but she admired Mimsy and her husband’s tight-knit family, something she’d never known. Mimsy didn’t show it, but she must have been devastated that two of her sons had enlisted for what boiled down to petty territory infighting.
“They’re smart Mimsy, they’ll be safe,” Charlotte finally replied. “After all, you raised them.”
That brought a smile to Mimsy’s face. “Oh there you go miss Myscha, trying to sweet-talk me. Now come come, I’ll take ye’ to the Lord’s den.” Ushering Charlotte forward with outstretched hand, Mimsy turned and began wobbling towards the back door. Charlotte followed close behind, her eyes glancing about as they always did, ensuring that nothing had changed since her last visit. She had no reason to believe Balsam had begun to harbor an ill will against her, but the blonde felt the need to be extra-cautious considering recent events.
The scullery was dark, hot, and stuffy as always, with the oven’s hot coals glowing white hot to heat whatever was in the cast-iron pot above. A large table in the center of the room was covered in an assortment of salted meats, vegetables, and grains, along with a few cooks kneading dough, presumably beginning to prepare tomorrow’s bread. Mimsy led Charlotte through quickly, though Charlotte still smiled and returned friendly waves from the chefs who spotted her passing through.
Entering the main halls of the manor was like stepping into an entirely different world from the scullery. The chipped and warped tables and dingy appearance was gone, instead replaced with pristinely polished mahoganies, plush oriental rugs hand woven from Sacae, large hand-commissioned paintings, and towering windows ushering in what seemed like unending natural light. Charlotte’s intricately stitched, sleeveless drop-back dress now matched her surroundings, while Mimsy looked all the more dirty and out of place.
Using the servant’s staircase, Mimsy led Charlotte to Balsam’s den, leaving her at the door with a smile and a chiding request to keep out of trouble. “I’ll try,” was all Charlotte could say before Mimsy began shuffling away, obviously needing to return to her duties. The blonde would need to send her something to help with the new baby, not to mention thank her for always letting her into the manor without a second thought. Mimsy was trusting like that, which worked to Charlotte’s advantage.
Not bothering to knock, Charlotte turned the crystal door-knob and let herself into the noble’s study, which was unsurprisingly empty. Ceiling-high bookshelves lined all the walls save for one, which was all windows looking over the manor’s interior courtyard. A few glass cases sat just beneath the windows, displaying different artifacts and weapons the peculiar man collected for his own amusements.
One of which, was of course, the magic blade he’d promised her in exchange for the dragonstone she was carrying in her brassiere.
Charlotte didn’t go directly to the cases though, instead walking to the nearest bookshelf, lifting her right hand and lazily running her fingers over the worn leather spines before plucking one from its resting place. Opening the old novel, Charlotte thumbed through the pages as she walked over to one of the red velvet-upholstered couches in the middle of the sitting area, sitting down as she began to read, waiting for Balsam to show as he always did when Mimsy brought her up.
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Post by Charlotte on May 22, 2015 16:01:48 GMT -6
“What have I told you before darling?”
“Balsam,” Charlotte started, head still bent over the novel - an old history tome detailing the political and military influence of the seventh Marquess of Laus - from Balsam’s shelf, “please, don’t be coy with me for once. You know quite well I don’t have the time to go through your court, and frankly I’m not sure why you even want me to, considering how often you call on me to meet you directly.”
The tall, spindly lord shook his head with a smirk, smoothing his greyed hair before taking a seat across from Charlotte. The blonde was well aware of what he was doing. Him having her go through his court to arrange a meeting with him gave him all the control in their business relationship, which was something Charlotte frankly didn’t care to give to him. He called on her when he needed her, so she provided him the same notice and courtesy, which was to say, little to none. The relationship still remained mutually beneficial for them, though, so they both stuck to their ways.
Finishing the last line of the chapter she had been reading, Charlotte shut the tome and set it aside, looking up to Balsam. “I hope you realize why I’m here?”
Balsam stroked his smooth, pointed chin, looking towards the windows for a moment. “I can only presume you are here to deliver the package I requested. I’m… pleased you were able to obtain it.”
“I asked you not to be coy, Balsam,” Charlotte sighed, crossing her legs. “You’re surprised I made it out of the Isles alive, and you knew that was a threat from the beginning.”
Balsam didn’t meet her gaze, still focusing on the windows as he stretched his arm across the top of the sofa, gently grasping the dark wood trim. “I assumed you understood the… challenges of dealing with Etrurians. The compensation I offered is more than enough to account for the risks.”
The consultant rolled her eyes. “Well in that case, I assume you accounted for the Bishop’s men torturing me in a cellar?”
Balsam blinked, only pausing for a moment. “Myscha, you know the risks of dealings like this, especially with the Etrurians. It’s… unfortunate to hear you were inconvenienced, but,” the lord finally looked back at Charlotte, leaning forward and clasping his hands together, “it’s reassuring that you were able to make it home regardless.”
Charlotte couldn’t help but laugh; the way Balsam spoke so casually about what happened on the job made her wonder if he’d tried to set her up. At this point it didn’t matter, since he’d failed if that had been his intention. So instead of keeping him engaged in a roundabout as the noble in Balsam likely would have loved, Charlotte ceased her laughter and shifted her crossed legs, her hand reaching into her brassiere and revealing the stone she’d gone through hell to bring to him. Instantly his eyes were alight with the fire of a collector.
“So I’ve done my part…” Charlotte trailed off, holding the iridescent blue stone in her hands well within view of the Lord. The lanky man stood quickly, walking over to one of the display cases and opening the front panel of glass. The blond watched as he retrieved the eerie, ornate dagger with the amber-colored stone in its hilt, and kept her eyes trained on him as he walked the blade over to her, holding it out for her inspection.
A graceful hand took the blade from Balsam’s hands. Charlotte’s eyes instantly began scanning over the dagger, though the first thing she noticed was how the blade was unusually warm in her hand. Balsam had told her about this when he’d pitched the idea of taking the blade as part of her reward, but she hadn’t realized how… unearthly it would feel.
Besides the warmth, the details and runes etched into the blade caught her eye, though she didn’t know what they read. There was a small chip in the blade itself, and the hilt was strangely shaped but still felt comfortable in her closed hand. The blonde ran her finger over the warm flat of the blade. She could have used more coin over the blade, sure, but there was something intriguing about the dagger in her hands, as if it was drawing her in, calling her to learn more of it.
“While I appreciate you admiring the beauty of the blade, dear, would you mind?” Balsam sounded anxious, and Charlotte didn’t blame him. Realizing she’d become distracted, Charlotte placed the blade on her lap, picking up the dragonstone and turning it over in her hands before looking back to Balsam.
“You have the gold as well, yes?”
“My aide will give you the rest of your payment when you depart. Through the entrance of the manor.”
Charlotte smiled, handing the stone up to the lord, who immediately took it to the window, holding it to the light to examine it, leaving the blonde to place the blade in a small purse she’d brought with her. She’d have to commission a sheath for the uniquely shaped blade before she could carry it around as Balsam had suggested.
Blade packed away, the consultant stood from the sofa, shaking her head as she watched the spindly man pour over his newly-acquired piece. This was how he always acted when she brought him a package, and she knew by now there was no point in trying to converse with him further. She’d see him soon enough, that was a given considering how much business the Lord referred to her. With little more than a quiet ‘fairwell’ as she wasn't in the mood for fanciful pleasantries, Charlotte slinked out of the den, towards the front of the manor to retrieve her coin and return to her house. Then she could really examine her new possession.
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Post by Charlotte on Jun 7, 2015 17:11:08 GMT -6
As soon as she arrived home, Charlotte stripped out of the provocative dress she’d donned for her visit with Lord Balsam, slipping on a tight pair of black leggings and black bandeau instead so she’d be comfortable. After gently hanging up the sultry number in her closet, the blonde sat at her kitchen table, setting down the spoils of her job. She had no other plans for the day, save for counting her remaining coin and examining the blade she’d just acquired.
Taking the leather pouch in her hand, the young woman loosened the tie around the mouth of the bag before letting the gold pieces spill onto the table. A loud clatter erupted in the room, but Charlotte did not flinch or falter, her eyes watching the multitude of coins as they clattered and spun on the table. The sound was relaxing; hearing the clink of the minted metal against the wood table reminded her she at least didn’t have to worry about being comfortable for a while.
As soon as the gold settled, the blond instantly sprung into motion, fingers dragging coins towards her as she sorted the pieces and counted at the same time. It was a process she’d done time and time again, so much so that it had become a ritualistic activity, something she could have done with her eyes closed. At the same time, the way her hands moved artfully over the grizzled tabletop, placing each coin in a ten-high stack before moving to the next, was almost beautiful in a way.
After a few moments, Charlotte completed her sort: 350 gold pieces, just as Balsam had promised her for bringing him the stone. She looked over the stacks for a few seconds, wondering how she would have to allocate it, especially considering how she’d need to take a trip to Etruria in the very near future. She planned to take a month and a half before meeting Saturos again to officially assume whatever her duties would end up being for the Inquisition. Charlotte would usually make her appearance sooner, but there were more than a few pieces of business she needed to take care of before she could go.
Done with sorting the coins, Charlotte turned her attention to the sheathed dagger lying just to the side of the golden stacks. Palming the handle and pulling it over to her, a chill went through her, as if somehow the blade unnerved her. No reason to be, she thought as she pulled the blade from its worn leather sheath, as if it hadn’t been revealed from its resting place in ages.
Instantly the blade grew warm to Charlotte’s touch, one of the signs Balsam had said she’d need to see before she could use the blade. The warmth seemed to flow into her own hand and up her arm, as if the magic of the blade was trying to crawl up into her. Furrowing her brow, she narrowed her eyes at dagger, examining the detailed runes and designs forged into the blade. She had no idea of knowing what they said, save for the fact that they had to be related to the Wyrm magic used to forge the blade. She also noticed a nick in the blade’s sharp edge, though it didn’t matter much to her. It was over a few hundred years old, after all.
She sighed, lifting the blade up to look at it more closely in the light. More so than the blade itself, the hilt was intricately decorated and designed, though it all focused around a singular amber-colored gem. It was dark and cloudy now, though according to Balsam, when the blade accepted her as an “approved” user the amber gem would illuminate, along with the blade itself becoming black as night. Charlotte was still uncertain if she even wanted the blade to accept her, instead considering selling it to one of her contacts for the coin.
But no, she didn’t want to do that in all reality. Charlotte like the idea of having the blade, even as just an artifact, a reminder of the kind of spoils that could come from a hard job. She didn’t use daggers often, so it wouldn’t be hard to avoid using this one, but to be safe she’d keep it sheathed at the small of her back, since the blade needed to be on her person for its magic to learn who you were.
Placing the blade back in its sheath, Charlotte set it aside, rising to grab a few smaller leather pouches from a cabinet in her bare kitchen. She’d need to store her gold separated so as to not place the whole sum at danger of being lost entirely, which she quickly did, placing the bags in different nooks and crannies in the small home. Finally, she took three of the smaller bags and placed them with her travelling leathers alongside her new dagger, Melancholia, before walking to her bed and lying down. It was still early in the day, but she felt like she’d been up for days. It was time to rest for a while before she went back to work.
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