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Post by Charlotte on Nov 11, 2015 21:58:34 GMT -6
A cool autumn breeze lazily blew through the streets of Aquleia, thought its bite was enough to keep the Etrurians there on their toes, moving diligently through the streets doing their duty. While there were more holy men and women about, the city functioned just as any other would: merchants did what they could to peddle their goods, bakers left their windows open so the rising yeast would draw in those hungry and with coin, and even escorts showed what skin they could in an attempt to draw lustful men to their dens - though with more prudence than any of the whores in the underbellies of Lycia.
A cloaked woman moved through the streets, though she was from no Etrurian nunnery or brothel despite the glint of golden hair that also graced the heads of many of the natives around her. It was to her benefit, though, as none gave her a passing glance as she worked through the crowds towards her destination.
It had been three months now, since she’d left Lycia by way of Taras, entering the land of the Prophet and serving under his name. Three long months of petty assignments - observing tavern deals between knights-turned-traitors, ratting out merchants who weren’t paying taxes on their sold wares, and generally reporting any who decided they were best off being naysayers of the Prophet and his reign. It was nothing of worth to the woman under the cloak, nothing of value that she could use.
Thankfully, though, a message had found its way into her hands just a few nights prior - an old colleague was to be in town today, and he bore news from the territories to the south. The blonde did hear some of what plagued the territories through hearsay, but the II was keeping her more than busy. Sitting herself down on the edge of a fountain in the middle of one of the town’s four squares, the young woman kept her hood drawn over her head, though her piercing blue eyes peered over the crowds, searching for the man who was coming to meet her.
“You know better than to expect to see me coming,” a low voice rumbled from beside her, almost buzzing inside her very core. If she had been any other woman, the woman would have jumped, but she simply turned to face the similarly cloaked man.
“Can’t blame a lady for trying,” she purred, crossing her legs as she watched him drop his hood. His hair was a mess of auburn curls that stopped just below his earlobes, and his eyes were a surprisingly beautiful shade of hazel that smiled even when he wore a scowl. His gaunt cheek bore a grizzly scar on his left side, though it hardly marred his handsome nature. He had the visage of a noble warrior, but the woman knew better. The man was a venomous snake, through and through.
“I was surprised to receive your message, to be honest,” the woman continued, eyes looking out across the square and focusing on a few children as they played with a hoop and stick. “I didn’t think your webs extended into the Prophet’s lands, Roland.”
Roland simply smiled, his gaze also moving to look towards the children playing across the square. “Come now, Victoria, you know better than to underestimate the breadth of the underground. You can find out any sort of information for the right price.”
The blonde shook her head with a small smile of her own. “What, you don’t like the new name? It’s fitting for an Etrurian spy, no?”
“More fitting than Myscha, at least,” Roland smirked and let a small chuckle escape him. After a brief pause, he looked back to Charlotte. “Things aren't getting better between Revelin and Ashby. The men are beside themselves, even with the relaxed embargo.”
Charlotte sighed, her tone flippant and dismissive. “Truly a shame, really, after all of our hard work -”
“Don’t tell me you’re not interested,” Roland interrupted her, a hint of frustration in his voice. “What did you think I was coming all this way to discuss with you?”
“I know quite well what you’re here to discuss,” Charlotte countered, looking back over to Roland from beneath her hood. “What do you expect me to do from up here? I’m not vacationing, you know.”
Roland shook his head; clearly he was unhappy with the woman’s answer. “You know, despite what you believe, your little escapade up here isn’t going to do you much good in the territories. I thought you wanted in with the Marquesses, hell, whoever the new Margrave is going to be -”
Charlotte narrowed her eyes, though she did not let her own frustration overcome her. Roland could get under her skin, sure, but she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing he had. He wasn’t aware of the fact that she had no choice about working with the II, but she wasn’t about to let Roland know that. “Roland, if you know so well what will better give me value to the future Margrave of Lycia, please, by all means, tell me and I’ll do just that.”
“Well, for starters you could leverage the barons and counts you’ve befriended and - “
The blonde laughed. “And what, love, get them to stop Revelin and Ashby from tearing at each other’s throats? Nothing short of one becoming the Margrave and the other swearing loyalty to him is going to keep that from happening.”
Roland furrowed his brow. “So what, you play around up here in the cold while Lycia falls into shambles? Hardly seems the way to get sway in the courts.”
“Roland, what did you expect when you came? That I would be out of the loop, that I would come running back to Lycia when you told me things were still going poorly in the embargo? My work is still happening there, love, just not by my own two hands.” Charlotte finally lowered her hood, flicking a bit of hair from her eyes. “I prefer it that way.”
The shaggy-haired man seemed to be taken aback by her response, but he simply shook his head with a grin. “You know, one day your ego will be the end of you, woman.”
“Oh, have a little faith.” Charlotte smiled, looking back out over the people in the square. The children were gone, but a spirited argument had started between a few merchants that had caught the blonde’s eye. “Well, since you’re here, I have something to ask of you.”
Roland crossed his arms, closing his eyes with a sigh. “Of course, I don’t have anything of my own to take care of.”
Charlotte chuckled, taking a purse from her belt containing wages she’d received from the II; working as an operative had proved more lucrative than she could have imagined. “Oh quiet, you’ll be well compensated for your work. Here.” Handing the purse to Roland, the blonde looked back to the man before continuing. “I need you to buy orphans for me. They should be small, quick on their feet, and quiet.”
The man had to hold back a laugh. “Excuse me?”
“I'm not joking, Roland, far from it. There’s enough gold in there to pay the fees for a hundred orphans or so in the territories. The rest is the first half of your finder’s fee; you’ll get the remainder when you provide me a list of the orphans and where I can find them. Can you do that for me?”
Roland stroked his chin as he weighed the coin purse in his open hand. “So you buy a hundred tiny orphans. Then what?”
The blonde operative crossed her legs, leaning back on her hands. “Buy the orphans, Roland, that’s all I’m asking. If you’re still interested after that, we can talk.”
A long pause passed between the two, to the point where Charlotte believed the man might actually say no. She lazily glanced over to him as he seemed to be weighing his options, if this was something that would be worth his time. The woman hoped it would be, considering Roland was one of the few men in Lycia she still trusted with tasks important to her - a frustrating fact considering how little she could do in Lycia right now. Hopefully this investment of hers would pay off as she planned.
Finally, Roland spoke. “Can’t believe I’m saying this, but alright. I’ll send a message once it’s done.”
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Post by Charlotte on Nov 12, 2015 16:16:00 GMT -6
One month later
Charlotte sat with her back against an alley wall, eyes narrowed and watching carefully down the street. It was thrilling, being out like this rather than in some young lord’s chambers, coaxing out where his loyalties lay. Her silver tongue favored more challenging pursuits, of which the region’s spymaster had given her none. Her job with Saturos in the south had been the last operative-type work she’d done since he’d left on his own business - since then, she’d been relegated to little more than informant-level assignments and tasks. Charlotte didn’t really blame the Inquisition for their caution with her, as she was still to prove her worth to them. If petty jobs did that, then so be it. It gave her more time to her own devices and projects.
“Mamsell, is it time?”
“Shh. Be patient and listen.” Charlotte looked to her side, where a small child of no more than ten was crouched, dressed in little more than beggar’s clothes. He was a scrawny thing, with gaunt cheeks, sunken eyes, and boney arms and legs. Truly, if anyone were to lay eyes on him they would simply look further, as they could see nothing of worth there.
The blonde and the orphan sat in the alley silently for another few minutes, until a jingling came from behind a nearby door. The orphan boy looked up to Charlotte, who waved at him to move behind a stack of barrels just a few steps behind them. The operative and the boy disappeared from sight just as the door was thrown open.
“OH HO HO, tha’s rich!” A booming male voice roared through the alley, accompanied by another few laughs from whom Charlotte presumed were a few more men. “Yeh want me to pay taxes on the ale ah’m buyin’? Since when has the Inquisition dohne that?!”
“Since now, sir. Here.” Another voice joined, though this was a low growl, almost sounding as if it didn’t want to be heard.
A shuffle of papers commenced, and after that the booming voice sounded again. “But mah suppliers already make meh cover their taxes when they import the damn ale; I’ll barely make me coin back now!”
“Your sacrifice will greatly aid the protection of our borders, sir, be assured of that.”
“Ah, piss off with yeh. Yeh’ll get yer taxes, dammit.”
The sound of shuffling feet filled the alley for a moment until the sound of a door opening and closing finally quieted the alley once more. After waiting a minute or two to make sure the men weren’t coming back, Charlotte looked down to the boy she had been waiting with.
“So, what was important there?”
The orphan boy’s face became scrunched and focused as he undoubtedly ran the conversation through his head again. “Well, one of them said they’d be taxed twice. Tha’s not supposed to happen, right?”
Charlotte shook her head. “Remember, what people say only holds so much value. Think, boy, what did you hear?”
“Well, they was laughin’ at first, but then… there was somethin’ shufflin’ too, after the one man said he would pay more taxes.”
A smile came to the blonde’s face. So the boy wasn’t daft after all. “Good. What do you think that was?”
“...papers about the taxes?”
“And what do you think would prove the tavernkeep is being overtaxed, maybe even by someone who is trying to steal money from the tavernkeep, more than one man’s word?”
“Copies of those papers, right?”
Charlotte nodded. “Whispers can be usefull, but more often they are only a small piece of a larger story - the beginning of something greater. But the moment you can give me something on paper, just like whatever papers those men handed off between one another - even just a copy of a valuable document is worth a hundred rumors. Understand?”
“Yes Mamsell.”
“Good. Now come.” With that, the blonde sprang to her feet, jumping atop the barrels they had hidden behind, listening for the boy to scramble up behind her. He would need to keep up if he was to prove Roland had chosen the boy well to be one of her little mice.
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Post by Charlotte on Nov 13, 2015 13:00:37 GMT -6
Two months later
“Miss? Ah’m sorry, Ah forgawt again.”
Charlotte sighed, a frown overcoming her features. The woman could be exceedingly patient when it came to many things, but teaching was not one of them. It was something she often took for granted, being quick to pick up new talents, considering how hard it was to teach some to do the simplest things. Of course, different people were good at different things, but there were some that seemed impossible to teach anything to.
The small tavern room seemed even smaller than before as the blonde stood, walking away from the table where four children sat. Three seemed to be working through whatever was in front of them quite well, but one’s face was pained as he stared at the parchment on the table in front of him, trying to make sense of the letters and words that were scribbled on it.
“Aria,” Charlotte addressed the young, blonde-haired girl sitting next to the confused boy, “You’ve already gone through your first sheet, no? Help Grehm with his, would you?”
Aria gave a quick nod before leaning over to help the confused boy, while Charlotte stepped out of the room for a moment. This had been how she’d spent virtually all of her spare time in the past few months - Roland would bring a handful of the orphans they’d purchased to Aquleia when Charlotte was in the area, and then both would teach the children the basics of reading, writing, and sneak thievery. Once they had the basics, Roland would bring them back to Lycia, planting their “little mice” as cupbearers, handmaids, and all manner of jobs in the courts, but with one overall purpose - copy important information, letters, ledgers, and charts of the wealthy and powerful that Charlotte desired. Once the woman had the information she needed, it would either be kept for a later date, used as leverage, or sold to the highest bidder.
“How are they doing?”
Charlotte looked up as she closed the door, seeing a less gaunt-looking Roland smiling down at her, leaning against the wall across the way. “Just fine, save for the chubby one. Not sure what you see in the Grehm boy.”
Roland shrugged. “Already told you, the boy’s like a ghost; he might be large, but he’s quiet, quick, and knows how to make himself invisible.”
The blonde’s frown did not go away. “Well then you should teach him the difference between lord and lard, if you think he’s so good.”
“I don’t believe it,” the man teased, laughing as he did. “The affable Myscha, agitated by a slow-learning child?”
Charlotte rolled her eyes and began to walk towards the stairs down to the main room but instead found Roland’s hand on her shoulder, stopping her. “Oh come on, I was only joking -”
“Watch it, Roland.” The blonde spun around on her heel, eyes narrowed at the man as she ripped her arm from his grip. It was unbecoming of her, but the young woman was nearing the end of her rope. Her relaxed demeanor had been fading ever since the incident at the baron’s manor, and it was not coming back with. To add to it, the idea that this whole thing could have been a poor investment infuriated Charlotte; the network had to work, no matter what she had to do in order to keep it working. Maybe she should have waited until she could be back in Lycia to do all of this; it certainly would have been easier.
Realizing her error, though, Charlotte sighed, turning back to Roland. “Apologies... that was rude of me. It has been a trying day.” Straightening the sleeve of her dress, she forced a smile. “I’ve taught those children all I can. Do with them as you see fit, save for Aria - I want her as close to Marquess Revelin as you can manage. You’ll be paid well as usual.”
Roland nodded; for once his eyes weren’t smiling. “Of course. We’ll set out at dawn. Send a messenger when you’ve time for the next group.”
With a nod, Charlotte left the hall and descended down into the main tavern room. Maybe her reaction was a misstep on her part, but Roland’s outburst was the same for him. The power she’d afforded him in the whole operation was getting to his head, and Charlotte knew once the man grew too comfortable he would be useless - maybe even become a threat to the whole thing. She’d have to watch him, closely from now.
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Post by Charlotte on Nov 14, 2015 14:27:33 GMT -6
Two weeks later
Sitting in a dull, small tavern room, Charlotte for once felt nervous as she sat, wringing a small piece of parchment between her fingers that one of her little mice had brought to her. It had been some time since one of her ‘friends’ from her time in the Lycian brothels had tried to reach out to her, but to add to it, they had mentioned it had something to do with Roland, the very man Charlotte had been working with and trusting to help her for the past months. The blonde took everything she heard with a grain of salt, but now waiting to meet with a woman who knew her true name, Charlotte couldn’t help but succumb to nerves for once. Regardless, it was a blessing that one of her mice had grabbed the parchment before it made it to a less judicious messenger.
As quiet as a mouse, three knocks sounded at the door, just as the woman had been told would happen. Charlotte stood, quickly going to the door and opening it a crack to see her old colleague, though it was hard to see much more than her long, curly brunette locks coming out of the cloak that covered her. Moving to the side, Charlotte watched her enter before closing the door.
Once the door was closed, the cloaked figure dropped her hood, looking over to Charlotte with a sad smile. Charlotte couldn’t return the favor, a great frown coming to her as she saw the woman’s face; her friend was beautiful as ever, but she was much worse for wear than when she’d left her; makeup could only cover so much of a bruise, especially the one’s she bore.
The bruised woman spoke first. “Your hair is so much shorter now, Charlie, I never thought I’d see you cut it.”
Charlotte winced, still so unused to hearing her real name, but she mustered a smile as she motioned for her friend to sit down at the small table they were afforded in the room. “Neither did I, Reena. Are you well?”
As she sat, Reena gave a weak shrug of her shoulder, while her eyes focused on the dull wooden walls. “Either you’re blind now or you’re just being polite.” The woman chuckled. “Not sure which is worse.”
Charlotte again found a frown overcoming her, but stayed silent. This was not her meeting to run. After a few moments passed, Reena looked back to Charlotte. “It’s important no one knows I’m telling you this, okay? I don’t care what you do with it, but you just can’t tell anyone I told you, alright? Promise me, Charlie.”
“Of course, Reena, no one will even know we met.”
With a short nod and another pause, Reena looked back to the wall, while Charlotte’s gaze stayed on the battered young woman. “I’ve been working in Laus the past year or so... more clientele with all the knights Marquess Revelin is recruiting, you know, and the brothels there used to treat us better than most.”
Charlotte furrowed her brow. “What do you mean, used to?”
“Well, a lot of ‘em have been getting bought up by your friend Roland - I only know because I heard it from one of the girls who helps clean our rooms. Ever since, there’s been lots of... changes. A rougher crowd’s been coming around, a-and some of the girls have ended up worse off than me... ”
Reena’s eyes darted down to her lap. “I wouldn’t even have known who Roland was, but I just remembered he hung around you a lot before you disappeared. I just figured if I could send a message, and it got to you, that you might be able to help, maybe talk to hi-”
“So he owns the brothel you work for?”
Reena nodded precariously. “Well, I manage it for him when he’s away, but yes, I guess what you said is true.”
Charlotte leaned her arms on the table, eyes narrowed. “Reena, I’ve worked with Roland for a while now, and he doesn’t seem like he’d even have the money to buy one cathouse, let alone multiple through Laus.” The blonde was being false with Reena, knowing that she’d been paying Roland for his work for her for some time now, but wanted to hear what Reena would say.
Reena looked up at Charlotte, her gaze exasperated. “I know, but he is! Girls have disappeared, Charlie, they’ve just vanished since he’s took over and I don’t know what to do.”
The room fell silent, with Reena folding her hands tightly in her lap and staring at them, while Charlotte leaned back in her chair, wondering what in the world she could even do in this situation. There was no way Charlotte could buy up the brothels Roland had bought - she’d spent so much on her small network of orphans already and couldn’t risk putting the rest of her savings into a play like that. Besides, that wouldn’t be a smart move - honestly, helping the brothels at all might be a bad move too, but considering how much coin it would cost to own multiple brothels in Laus, Charlotte had a feeling Roland might be skimming some of the coin off the top of what the blonde was giving him to help with her network. That warranted a response of some sort, as Charlotte would not be taken advantage of, or played for a fool.
But what would her response be? How could she ‘free’ the man of his ownership of the brothels, which would by association help Reena and her courtesan friends?
With her thumb on her chin, Charlotte looked back to Reena. “Does Roland have ladies like you running all of his brothels?”
Reena nodded. Charlotte smiled. Like that, a plan came together. It seemed the blonde might come into a windfall of Lausian cathouses.
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Post by Charlotte on Nov 15, 2015 16:33:38 GMT -6
One month later
“I don’t think we’ve ever met with a dog following you, have we Myscha?”
“Circumstances change, love.”
Charlotte’s hands gently rested on her hips as she looked over at Roland, standing alone across from the woman and another grizzled looking man who bore two swords at his hip. Charlotte looked no different than usual, sporting brown leggings and a red shirt under a tight leather vest, while her new friend wore worn leather armor, his hand resting atop the hilt of one of his blades and eyes lazily hovering on Roland, as if waiting for the man to make a false move.
They’d met at a new place under the stars tonight, not inside the tavern they usually favored on the north side of Aquleia. No, tonight they were just a few blocks from the Tower of the Saint, the supposed ascension place of St. Elimine. Charlotte looked up to the top of the looming structure, grinning as she did. She was no believer in churches or gods, no, but she did believe in irony. Standing beneath a large shaft while she spoke to the fool in front of her felt like something of that sort.
A scowl on his face, Roland crossed his arms. “This feels less like a meeting and more like I’m on bloody trial.”
Charlotte kept her eyes trained on Roland, much like her mercenary’s, but did not say a word. If Roland’s scowl could grow any larger, it did as she confirmed his doubts with her silence. “Well if I am,” he spat, eyes aflame with anger, “I’ve got every right to know why!”
“Roland of Laus, you’ve spent the past four and a half months stealing gold from me, that I told you was intended for purchasing assets, investing in them, training them! Do you deny it?”
The thief shook his head, dropping his arms to the side and balling up his hands into fists. “To think, I spent the past months helpin’ you and doin’ work you should be doin’-”
Charlotte sighed. “I thought you changed, Roland, but you’re still the same boy I knew in Laus - the same woman-beating, drunken thief I should have known better to trust!”
“Oh, you’re so much better than me, are you Myscha?!” Roland stepped forward as if to make a move towards Charlotte, but the grizzled mercenary at her side drew his blade, holding it out to the man’s chin, causing him to stop in his tracks. Roland grew stiff as a board in an instant, his neck stretched tall as he looked at the blonde-haired woman with nothing but hate now, voice raising as he spouted off at her. “You’re still just the little whore girl from the Isles, and you’ll never be anything more than that! You think having a bunch of kids run ‘round and tell you rumors, o-or hiring some bloke who knows how to hold a sword will make you anything more than that?!”
“No,” Charlotte said, moving closer to Roland while keeping to the left of her mercenary man’s blade. “Because that girl from the Isles has been dead a good while now; you’re just too stupid to realize it.” Charlotte paused for a quick moment before continuing. “As repayment for what you’ve stolen from me, I’ve taken the liberty of releasing you from your duties as owner of the twelve cathouses you purchased throughout Laus. Such a shame for you, considering whatever you stole from me wasn’t nearly enough to cover the fees for all of those. Suppose stealing from a little whore girl from the Isles wasn’t worth it, hmm?”
The words dripped like venom from Charlotte’s lips, and she could tell every word she said infuriated the thieving man. But even with his very apparent frustration, Roland said nothing, far too aware of the sword that was being held at his throat. There was no value in being dead for the man, even if he’d just been made twelve brothels poorer.
Finally, the blonde smiled. “Geoffry here will keep you company for a bit while I leave to tend to other matters. I do hope you don’t mind.” Charlotte turned on her heel, taking a few steps away before stopping abruptly. Looking over her shoulder back at Roland, her lips still curled in a satisfied grin.
“Oh, and Roland? It wouldn’t be wise to come looking for me. I’ve more friends now than when we first met.”
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Post by Charlotte on Nov 20, 2015 23:46:27 GMT -6
Later that night
Laying in her uncomfortable tavern bed, Charlotte stared at the dull brown ceiling above her, wondering when she’d see Lycia again. Admittedly, it wouldn’t be before the whole Prophet nonsense passed, which didn’t seem like it would be anytime soon. If anything, it seemed like this might not end up being a passing fad, following the theocrat, especially with the troop movements towards Ilia. The tired woman pursed her lips; maybe she would simply request an assignment back in Laus, considering most of her resources had been poured into the territory - really, the country as well. Considering how hard it was managing the small network she was building on her own, it would likely be worth at least asking her spymaster the next time she was afforded a meeting with him.
Shifting to her side, the blonde lay her cheek on her cool hands, closing her eyes and trying to find at least a few moments of sleep. While she’d been sleeping better than she had in the months after leaving her home, Charlotte still found herself plagued by occasional bouts of sleeplessness. Tonight was no different, especially with everything on her mind. The idea of managing the network on her own was a positive one, especially since she preferred working on her own. But again, being so far disconnected from Lycia made it difficult to see how she’d be able to maintain what she and Roland had created, not to mention to ensure the success of the brothels she’d just repossessed. Yes, finding a way to work out of Lycia was crucial, the more she thought about what she had to manage. Besides, she’d spent plenty of time in the ‘holy land’ already; hopefully then it wouldn’t seem an unreasonable request.
After a short while it seemed sleep had come to the young woman, but it was interrupted as quickly as it came, though by what, Charlotte was having a hard time determining. She’d heard something, but what it was she didn’t know. A draft rattling a doorknob? A mouse scuttling about? No, it was something more substantial than that. She barely had time to drowsily open her eyes and begin sitting up before she spotted the shadowy figure in the room with her, looking at her from the corner across from the foot of her bed. Charlotte froze, eyes snapping wide open as she tried to determine who the man was. Unfortunately for her, his face save for his eyes were covered by a dark hooded mask. But the secrecy about his looks spoiled his reason for being in her room.
“I do hope it’s not you, Roland; tell me you hired someone else to do your dirty work.”
The figure didn’t move, save for some of the fabric around his mouth shifting; the voice that sounded was unmistakably Rolands. “You know I take pride in my work, Myscha. I wouldn’t let someone else take the credit for this, not after the show you put on back there.”
Charlotte quickly reminded herself of where her blades were stashed. Most were under the bed with her traveling leathers, but there was still one dagger beneath her pillow - the magic dagger that Balsam had given her. But the last time she’d held it, it hadn’t “chosen” her as the man said it would - the gem glowed and it was warm to the touch, but the blade remained silver, not turning black as night. But if Roland came at her, it might be the only blade she would have to fight the man off. She’d have to see if the man would give her a chance to move. He likely wouldn’t.
But Charlotte had a bit of pride, just as her old colleague did, so she grinned. “Roland, you know I could have been a hell of a lot harsher on you. Learn from your loss and move on.”
“Really? Seems like I could make a huge profit right now, actually. No guard dog to protect you now, hmm? Poor planning if you ask me.” It was Roland’s turn to grin as the woman’s faded into pursed lips. He knew he had an advantage, but the blonde was going to do everything she could to not let him exploit it.
Shaking her head, the blonde tried to begin sliding her hand towards the dagger under her pillow. “I knew what I was doing, love. I don’t need a lumbering oaf to protect me from you.”
“Oh?” The man’s shadowy form moved for the first time since Charlotte had woken, and it lunged towards the woman’s bed. “I’m willing to bet otherwise.”
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Post by Charlotte on Nov 23, 2015 10:07:37 GMT -6
In a flash both Roland and Charlotte moved for their weapons. Roland drew a jagged edged dagger from his belt, while the blonde reached under the pillow for the magic dagger she hadn’t the slightest idea if she could even use yet. But the woman was willing to risk madness over being dead any day, so she quickly slipped the blade from its sheath and rolled out of bed. She was disadvantaged, as the man had leathers on while she was simply in tight brown leggings and a white undertank. But hopefully she was faster than the man would expect.
The man’s dagger came down towards her just as she’d rolled from the bed, so his blade thankfully pierced the lumpy mattress, allowing Charlotte to get a strong kick off into the man’s side as he reclaimed his blade from the bed. Roland stumbled, but he was not off kilter for long, regaining his footing and lunging at the blonde on the floor. Charlotte threw herself towards the man, avoiding his blade as it slashed at her side while jamming her shoulder into his diaphragm.
“Oof!” The man fell, his back slamming into the wall behind him, allowing Charlotte to stomp her foot on the man’s weapon hand, making him release the blade long enough to kick it across the room. Whipping her blade out to aim at the man’s throat, the blonde smirked as the man brought his gaze up to meet hers.
“Did you think I didn’t learn a few more tricks since Laus, hmm?” While usually focused, the blonde suddenly found her gaze dropping as she noticed the warmth of the blade in her hand as it almost hummed in her hand and through her whole body. As soon as her eyes landed on the blade, though, she realized the gem not only glowed a sickly orange, but the blade was black as night and somehow seemed to be dripping with darkness, if that was even possible. The experience of holding the blade now was different than it had ever been; had the blade finally ‘chosen’ her like Lord Balsam said it would need to before it could be used?
Her gaze having been diverted a moment too long, Roland took notice and reached out to grab her wrist, his grip tight as he threw the blonde to the side. Charlotte yelped as she lost her grip on her own blade, it and her clattering to the floor as Roland lunged for his blade. Her ears rang as her head hit the floor, and her vision blurred with tears as she rocked in place for a moment. She needed desperately to move, but she couldn’t for the life of her as she tried to catch her breath.
Her life seemed to flash before her eyes as she rolled away from yet another of Roland’s lunges. This was not how she thought she would die, but she realized if there was any way for her to, this would have been it. Charlotte frantically looked around the room, trying to locate her blade as she dodged yet another attempt to end her life from her former partner.
Finally, she saw it, just beside the bed. Charlotte wasted no time lunging for the blade, her fingers curling around the hilt just as Roland grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled as hard as he could. Charlotte screamed, pain searing through her skull, but instead of giving in kicked back, turning her head as much as she could and whipping her arm around with dagger in hand, watching as the blade plunged into its intended target: the man’s neck.
Almost immediately his grip loosened on her hair, though his blade lashed out at her one more time; while Charlotte tried to move her head out of the way, her edge of his blade made contact with her cheek, eliciting a hiss from the woman and causing her to dig her dagger deeper into Roland’s neck. Again she felt the warmth of blood on her hand, and the blonde kept her eyes locked on the man’s as he sputtered, sliding down to the ground atop a slowly growing pool of his own blood.
While Charlotte expected the man to expire quickly, instead Roland’s breath quickened, eyes bulging as he grasped at his neck, though he did not seem to be reaching for the blade. Instead the man clawed furiously at his neck, gurgling more as he did - almost as if he was trying to scream out in pain. The blonde scrunched her face in disgust, pulling the dagger from the man’s neck and stepping back as his body stopped moving and made no more noise.
The second death caused by her hands. But somehow, Charlotte didn’t feel nearly as distraught as she had after the first. As she wiped the dagger off on the man’s sleeve, the woman could almost swear she felt relieved, almost satisfied by it. The feeling disgusted her.
Trying to shake whatever sick feeling she’d had, Charlotte knew she couldn’t stay in the tavern any longer. In fact, it was probably best if she left the city for a while, let this blow over once Roland’s body was discovered. Sheathing the dagger, Charlotte swiftly began to dress herself, knowing she had little time to move before blood began seeping through the floorboards onto the floor below. It was time to disappear.
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Post by Charlotte on Nov 24, 2015 21:48:09 GMT -6
Winter was finally breaking in Etruria, with the first of the snow melting all around and little green saplings starting to peek through the cold soil. While it was a happy time of year for most, somehow it seemed more dour for the residents of the once holy nation; while warmer weather brought more opportunity to trade, travel, and the like, for many Etrurian cities and villages it meant more opportunity for the Inquisition to spy on them. It also gave them more opportunity to bring punishment into the open for those found to be loyal to the crown.
While the blonde enjoyed the warmer weather, the past few days had been strange ones for her. Since killing her former partner, Charlotte had been on the road to Taras, where she’d arranged an impromptu meeting with the spymaster for her region. She was sure the man would hear about her encounter with Roland; even if she did not mention a word of it, the man always found out somehow. Charlotte supposed he wouldn’t be a very good spymaster otherwise.
After days of travel in a miserably stuffy cart full of leathers, though, the looming castle of Taras city finally appeared, bringing the young blonde much relief. Finally, she would be able to stretch her legs and hopefully convince the man her place was in Lycia, not wasting away in Etruria. Charlotte was more than willing to relay any information the Etrurians wanted about dealings back in Lycia, but the network she and Roland built would do little good on its own.
As soon as they breached the city’s main gates, Charlotte was out of the cart, glad to walk the rest of the way to her rendezvous point with the spymaster. She still wore a cloak over her person, the day’s air just a bit too biting to go without, but it was refreshing to breath in the brisk air over the stench of those leathers. The city streets were crowded, too, others taking advantage of the first nice day in what felt like months to do business with one another.
Finding the address Charlotte had been given, the blonde ducked into a nearby alley and knocked three times on the cellar door, leaning on the nearby wall until she heard the creak of the door being slowly opened. She waited until a head peeked out, though it appeared to be a young brunette woman instead of Charlotte’s spymaster. Eyebrow raised, Charlotte leaned back against the wall, looking away.
“Van said he’d meet me,” the operative said plainly, looking towards the end of the alley.
“Yes yes, will you come inside? He’s here.” Charlotte was skeptical, considering what had happened the last time she’d gone into a cellar not knowing who would be there, but she pushed away from the wall again and descended after the other woman, who looked much like a scullery maid. As soon as the cellar doors closed, a lantern was lit, illuminating the cellar and revealing a roomful of barrels, one of which a cloaked man sat atop.
Drawing his hood down, Van smiled. It was toothy and wide but still felt fake, as if he was mocking her. His shoulder-length brown hair was messy and parted down the middle as always, and a small tuft of white hair was tucked behind his ear. He was a strange sight to most, his eyes a similar blue to the blonde’s own, making his gaze piercing and cold. Charlotte wasn’t intimidated by the man, though, simply stopping a few feet in front of where he sat and crossing her arms.
Van maintained his smile. “You’re lucky you left Aquelia when you did. Roland apparently had some friends in Intelligence. They were looking for your friend’s killer for a few days, but you were long gone by then.”
“I thought my personal business was mine alone,” Charlotte sighed, though with a shake of her head she gave a knowing smirk. Like Saturos had told her, Van truly didn’t care what she did in her spare time, so long as she produced results when she was asked to.
The cloaked man gave a simple nod, kicking one of his legs rhythmically while still perched atop his barrel. “It is; I just thought you’d find it interesting. You clearly have something to talk about if you asked to meet.”
Van never wasted time in a conversation. Charlotte nodded back. “I want to work out of Laus. I’m much more use to the Inquisition there; I’ve more resources, more contacts-”
“A string of whorehouses and a handful of orphans barely count as that compared to our network, dear. We already have seasoned agents in Lycia, so what would sending you possibly provide?”
Charlotte pursed her lips, scrunching her nose as she considered what she could say. “I’m sure you already know I have an in with a handful of influential nobles in Laus and Santaruz.”
“Yes yes, I know of your heroics with Baron Tristanine; apparently the Marquess of Santaruz was impressed, but never heard back from the young lady who saved the old man.”
The blonde smiled. “Let me do my work with the courts, Van. I’m good at it, and much more use there than listening to tavern conversations here. You know there’s conflict brewing between the Marquesses, and I could be our eyes and ears there.”
Van remained quiet for a moment, shutting his eyes as he considered what she was saying. Finally, after a few deathly quiet moments, he spoke. “Fine. Leave for Laus in the morning. We’ve heard whispers that Revelin is growing closer to being ready to make his move to be Margrave; find a way into his inner circle so we can decide if we’ll let him or not.”
Charlotte moved her hands to her hips. “Appreciate the vote of confidence, Van.”
“Cautious confidence, if that can be,” Van said, jumping down from the barrel he had perched himself on. “You don’t have your whole life to get there. Say, by the summer solstice; if you’re not close enough to relay considerable and reliable updates by then, I’ll bring you back here. Understood?”
Another quick nod came from the blonde. “I think I’d be better off leaving tonight in that case, then.”
“Whatever you think is best. Just remember, you’re not just working for yourself. You have someone vouching for you; everything you do could sully the validity of his word, if you’re not careful.” The him Van referred to was no doubt Saturos; the teal-haired operative had pulled more than a few strings to not only keep the Bishop off of her trail, but to get her into the Inquisitional Intelligence. Charlotte didn’t have the option of failing; she didn’t care so much about letting the II down as she did letting Saturos down.
“Then I hope I don’t see you for a while,” Charlotte replied, turning on her heel and walking towards the cellar stairs.
“Enjoy the weather. I’ve heard Laus is warmer than usual for this time of year.” Van’s voice followed Charlotte as she ascended back into the alley, ready to find the next cart out of Taras and to Laus. Finally, after what felt like months, she was going home.
End thread (for real this time)
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