(2023-01-28) An Unexpected Caller

Details

Author:	inkie
Summary:	Jonas arrives in Ironforge (from Stormwind) in search of Cobalt Company on the one day of the week that Cobalt Company is in Stormwind (from Ironforge). He meets Mayellen Mullby instead. A plan is hatched.
Rating:	T for Teen

A young man in clean but travelworn clothing — flannel shirt, suspenders, rough canvas trousers and battered boots — approaches a row of townhouses in the far southwestern corner of the Hall of Explorers. He's carrying an equally battered satchel over one shoulder, to which are strapped a hatchet and a rifle, and he cranes his neck at windows and house numbers as he goes. His black hair is tousled and slightly too long for tidiness; he bears a striking resemblance to the owner and former occupant of one of these houses, though a younger and slighter version of him.

Outside the next-to-last house in the row he halts, considers the door, and then steps up to knock politely.

The door opens just wide enough for a young woman's face to peek out. Light brown skin, blue-gray eyes slightly too wide-set. Her expression begins as the sort of wariness one has when expecting solicitors, then quickly shifts into something that might remind him STRONGLY of a certain shopkeeper he encountered already, and then finally settles into politeness.

"Good afternoon, sir, how can I help you?"

At the abrupt change in her expression, the young man's own shifts into extremely Neutral Courteous, and he takes a polite half-step back. "I apologize for troubling you, miss. I'm looking for a Lieutenant Hazan, and was told this is his house?" He hesitates. "Are you…?”

"His sister," she says immediately.

She then briefly gets a strange expression, which also goes away immediately.

"Oh. I — sorry, I wasn't told there was… he had a sister." He shifts the satchel on his shoulder, a little awkward now. "I came up from Stormwind when I heard the name — well, saw it. I thought someone at Cobalt Company headquarters might know how I could reach him? Would you happen to —" He pauses again, and then offers a hand out. "Jonas Hazan."

She makes a thoughtful little sound, as of confirmation. "I imagined something of the kind,” she says. “You have the Hazan look about you."

She widens the door opening just enough to shake his hand, then narrows it slightly again. "You've come to the right place, but he can't come to the door just now." At around this point, the faintest hint of sulfur may have begun to waft out to him. "But I'd love to speak with you myself. I was just on my way out to do some errands, if you wouldn't mind accompanying me?" She shifts to hide her outer foot behind the door, which might be just enough movement to draw his attention to the fact that she is wearing warm house-slippers.

Jonas takes another courteous half-step back, flicks a quizzical gaze past her, and then drops it to the house-slippers. "Ah. Sure. Do you… want to change your shoes?" He lifts his grave, greenish gaze to her face and regards her with kindly patience.

She colors visibly. "I should. Pardon my absent-mindedness. I'll be right back. Don't move." She closes the door in his face.

Jonas dutifully does not move. He contemplates the door with the same politeness he'd contemplated the young woman who evidently lives behind it.

After a few moments, she returns, wearing, you know, shoes. She exits the house and closes the door behind her. Locks it as well.

He steps back again and to the side to let her pass.

"So! I wasn't aware there was a Jonas Hazan! I'm May." May sets off toward the very busy, very crowded forge district, which is a stone’s throw around the corner. She looks around vaguely, spots the Bronze Kettle, and heads toward the stairs that lead to its entrance.

Jonas follows unhurriedly. "May. I'm glad to meet you. I wasn't aware there were… other Hazans. Well. In the loosest sense I supposed there might be?" He considers this again, with a slightly distant gaze. He has the slightest burr of a northern accent, not quite Highlands, but not quite Proper Lordaeron.

"You're not from around here," May observes. She climbs the stairs to the Bronze Kettle, enters the shop and heads to the lower floor to browse the cooking supplies. “Hello Emrul! Me again! This is Jonas Hazan!"

Something in the too-bright, cheery way she introduces him seems almost like a warning, or a coded cry for help. If so, Emrul doesn’t seem to pick up on it.

Jonas smiles politely at the dwarf and inclines his head. He turns to study the cooking supplies as well. "No. I'm from Silverpine, originally, and then around.”

May nods pleasantly, looking over racks of spices and flour and such.

“You're… from Ironforge?" Jonas asks. “Are there native Ironforge humans?” His tone allows politely for the possibility.

"Ben and I are originally from Westfall."

"Ah. That… makes sense, then." There is a long pause as Jonas steps closer to a shelf to consider some oatmeal. "I believe my father was from there. Originally."

"Oh! So you're trying to figure out how we're related, I'd presume?"

Jonas glances over from the oatmeal as though he'd sort of forgotten they were in conversation. "Yes. Yes, that's — as I said, I was surprised to see the name. I wondered if the Lieutenant might be —" He frowns a little, a familiar forehead-crease.

May selects some spices and a bag of flour and sets them to one side of the shelf, then opens her coin purse. She counts, frowns, and puts one of the packets of spices back.

Jonas regards this action sympathetically. He puts a hand in his pocket and comes out with a few copper coins. He counts these, glances at the spices on the shelf, shakes his head and puts the coins back quietly.

"Well,” says May, “the Lieutenant's father is Byron Hazan, if that name means anything to you?"

"It doesn't, no. My father was Isak. If that name means anything to you?"

"Isak, Isak…” she repeats thoughtfully. “I'm afraid not. But you know, if Ben heard you calling him ‘the Lieutenant,’ he'd probably stick his hands in his pockets and get a ‘gee-shucks’ expression and tell you Ben is fine." She turns to Emrul with her selections. "He's older than me, he might know more of the family before it all… sort of fell apart."

Jonas slides her a sidelong look. "So he's not… huh. And I suppose, yes, that's what I wanted to talk with him about."

May pays for the cooking supplies. Emrul, who had been watching her the whole time, grabs the spices she had put back and adds them to her bag. He winks. "You an' Ben bring us enough business lass, I'll help ye out a little till he comes back."

May goes very red. She turns to Jonas with a caught-me expression. "Uh, yes, you see, the reason he couldn't come to the door is that he is sort of… in Northrend."

Jonas raises his eyebrows only very slightly. He smiles at the dwarf, and then turns a quizzical smile on May. "Yes. That's — I'd been told something of the kind. As I said, I was just hoping to get in touch with him. Or find out about him. Whether we might be related."

"A great number of Hazans are… not very nice people,” May admits. “I hope you'll forgive me for not wanting to invite you in when I was alone in the house. I am absolutely certain you're related; you look enough like him that I knew you were family before you opened your mouth."

Jonas knits his brows, still mildly. "Not– I’m sorry, then, to alarm you. What do you mean 'not very nice'?"

"Imagine any definition of that you like and it probably applies to some Hazan or other. The uh, the men, mostly. Aunt Niris is very nice."

Jonas contemplates this. "The men. I don't… well. I'm sorry." He draws his distant gaze back to her and studies her profile. "There's an Aunt Niris? Lieu– Ben's mother, then?"

May tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "Well, sort of. It's complicated. Most of the Westfall Hazans are no longer with us. Ben has been adopted by Sir Elohad Ference and his wife, who happened to be his aunt. Byron's sister. My parents, legally speaking, are the Mullbys, who run a shop in Stormwind."

Jonas regards May with thoughtful, patient silence. His eyes say that he is trying to do this arithmetic, like the lady in the gif.

"So legally speaking Ben and I are not brother and sister at all."

Jonas nods slowly. "Legally speaking."

"Well, we have different legal mother and father even though we are kin and grew up together somewhat. I told you it was complicated."

He nods again politely and sets the arithmetic aside for now. Maybe he will get a pencil and paper later. "That's all right."

"Um, but… tell me again why you've come down south? Sorry, I was a bit nervous before and not paying full attention." May leads him from the shop, holding her bag against her in a way that suggests she isn't not nervous, even yet.

Jonas shifts the satchel on his shoulder as he follows her back across the Great Forge. "Oh. Well. I travel as a rule. But in particular this time I thought I'd head for the Dark Portal. In… the Blasted Lands?" His tone suggests he's a little unclear on why anyone would name a place that.

"Oh Light. Why would you want to go there?" Her eyes widen. "Um, we could talk somewhere a bit nicer I suppose, if I'm going to be asking you complicated questions. Have you seen the museum here yet?"

Jonas shakes his head politely. "I'd like to. What sort of museum is it?"

"History! I'll show you." May changes course to lead him across the Hall of Explorers toward the museum.

"Thanks. Is it… free? To visit?" His hand goes into his pocket again.

"It is! The dwarves are obsessed with digging up old relics, and I'm fine with them doing all that part of the work, but I love looking at the things they find."

Jonas relaxes, so mildly that one might not have noticed he was tense to begin with, and follows her up the steps. "I'd heard that. The Explorer's League? I've read a couple of– oh." He stops and gazes upward at the winged skeleton suspended from the ceiling.

Mayellen glances back at him and grins. "Dragon! Or what's left of one. Do they have dragons up north? I've never been."

Jonas moves forward slowly, not as if uneasy but as if concerned he'll startle the long-dead creature.

"He won't bite. Or she. Hard to say."

"Oh, I wasn't–" Jonas glances at May and gives her another of those quizzical smiles. He looks upward again. "I've seen some red ones in the Wetlands. Well, not proper ones. The… what do you call them? The flightless ones. And the hatchlings."

"I've never seen a dragon of any kind. Other than that one. Not yet, anyway. Ben sometimes went out with the Explorers' League too, him and his best friend Sil. He's seen all sorts of things."

"Really? Is he… scholarly, then?" This seems to interest Jonas.

"He wrote a book!"

"I have a copy, yes. I read… a little of it, on the tram up." Jonas doesn't mention that it didn't strike him as particularly scholarly. His tone might suggest that, though. “That's how I saw his name. At the bookshop. The book cart."

"He'd be so excited to know that!" Mayellen smiles fondly. "He's a little rough around the edges, so some people think he isn't clever, but he is. Terribly clever. And loves learning all sorts of things. He and I used to go to a Science Club where Captain Jocoza Sparkwire taught us about electricity and… uh, water surface tension, and all sorts of things." She stops before a complex brass device. "This is an Astrolabe! From the– oh, um, I suppose you can read, if you saw his name on the book. You might read it yourself." She points to the plaque.

Jonas looks keenly interested, the mild politeness slipping for a moment. "A science club? With a Captain? Is that… Cobalt Company, again?" He steps forward to read the plaque on the astrolabe, and then tips his head back to consider the instrument. "Undersea ruins of Suramar?" He whistles. That sounds a little bit like Ben.

Mayellen can't help but smile at the Ben-ness. Suddenly she gets a little misty, and abruptly walks on to the next exhibit.

Jonas walks a half-circle around the astrolabe. "I haven't been to Kali– oh." He watches her wander away, and after a moment follows after her, still unhurried.

May has stopped before a display of dwarven urns and caskets. "These are from Uldaman. Cobalt Company helped recover them," her player boldly headcanons. “It's an old ruin in the Badlands, full of what they think are artifacts of the Titans!"

Jonas's neutrality once again sharpens. "That's — and Cobalt Company did?" He leans forward to peer again at the artifacts, careful not to touch.

"Yes. They're amazing. I want to join them one day, but there are some complications. About a third of them are gone to Northrend, but there's a squad working out in Westfall right now too, which is nice. I'm going to try to meet some of them."

Jonas nods absently. "I'd heard that, too. About some in Westfall? I'd considered going down there, but thought it made better sense to come to the headquarters first, in case." He looks sidelong. "What complications?"

Mayellen considers for a long time, and then finally says in a neutral tone, "I'm a warlock."

Jonas reads the plaque above the artifacts in silence. The silence isn't directed at May; he’s simply focused on the information before him. When he's done, he steps back a little and nods at her.

"Warlocks aren't exactly… not allowed in Cobalt Company, but they already have several very powerful ones and the man in charge of recruiting just absolutely hates them." She turns a level gaze on him. "Do you?"

"Should I? I mean–” Jonas reflects. “I suppose that's an unfair question. In my part of the world, we've seen mages do a fair amount of damage, but no one's tarring them over it. Jaina Proudmoore's a hero. I've heard that Khadgar is, as well. In Outland."

"Well, warlocks aren't mages."

"No. And neither are paladins or priests or… I mean, a thing that's a different thing is a different thing." Jonas regards her patiently, like he's waiting for her to get this concept. "I'm not sure, though, why we'd paint all one kind of thing as moral or immoral based on what some have or might have done. No one's declared Jaina Proudmoore wicked for the actions of Arugal. No one's declared Arugal innocent because of Jaina Proudmoore. They're different people."

Mayellen continues to gaze at him steadily. Her eyes' strangely wide set and soft color tends to make her default to looking a little vague, but it would seem to be an illusion; her gaze is quite focused and intent.

"I want to help the Alliance fight the undead,” she says gravely, “and demons, and the Horde, and whatever else needs fighting. I'm no warrior and will never be. I don't have the gift for arcane magic. But anyone can learn demonology. It just takes practice, and that, I'm good at. So that's what I do. I'm not power-mad, and I have good teachers who have taught me to be cautious."

Jonas nods mildly. It might be mild approval. He's studying her back. "What does Li– Ben think?"

"Well, he doesn't mind at all." Unaccountably, she gets a little teary again. Then she accounts for it by adding, matter-of-factly, "But he's gone. So is the warlock I was going to classes with. So is my teacher. They're all gone. To Northrend. Maybe never coming back. So."

Mayellen waves to Curator Thorius amiably as he passes, as if she isn't all teary.

Jonas stands quietly and contemplates this, still regarding May. "I'm sorry. He didn't put a word in for you? With the Company?"

"He said he would, but… you only get one chance to apply. I need to make sure it's a yes. And I haven't done anything yet, really. They already have such good warlocks… my friend Lena, a couple of others. They're really not looking for more. I'd have to be something really spectacular. I believe I can become that, but it will take time."

Jonas nods. "Most things do. What does he do? Ben. Not a warlock, I assume. The little of the book I've read suggested… infantry?"

"Well, he started out as just a garden variety soldier, but as I mentioned, he was adopted by Sir Elohad Ference. Ference is a paladin, and I guess Ben decided to follow in his footsteps. So now he's that. A paladin."

Jonas raises his eyebrows and contemplates this. He does a lot of contemplating, this guy.

"Also the heir to… some lands or something, I'm not really clear on all that. Sir Ference is also some sort of lord."

"I had… heard that, also. It seemed… improbable? A lord?" Jonas's tone reiterates the fact that he's read part of Ben's book.

"It's a recent thing. Lord Ference and Niris were already married, you see, and Ben showed up and Lord Ference just took to him instantly. He's the one who hates warlocks. But — oh!!” She brightens. “Oh, if anyone could tell you about this Isak Hazan fellow it would be Niris, she's Byron's sister and very much alive."

Jonas looks thoughtful. "Why did Lord Ference take to Ben immediately?"

"Well, he's just wonderful, really. And looks very like Lord Ference's wife, which didn't hurt. The Hazans really have a certain look. I don't, exactly, because, well, on my mother's side — different mother from Ben — her father was a ginger fellow."

Jonas looks slightly puzzled. "He… likes the look of Hazans?"

"He didn't grow up terrorized by them. He only knew Niris, who is quite pleasant, if a bit… hm. Proper, maybe? The sort you worry about displeasing. She and my mother are great friends."

Jonas's gaze sharpens at the word terrorized, which is a pretty strong word.

"So perhaps I could introduce you to her?” May tilts her head.

"She's Sir Elohad's wife?" Jonas is doing arithmetic.gif again.

"Yes. And your relation some way or other. Of the Westfall Hazans you were curious about. She's older, so she likely knows more of the family history. I have honestly spent most of my life in Stormwind City at this point."

Jonas nods. "And Sir Elohad is the… leader of Cobalt Company? Who disapproves of warlocks?"

"Yes, that's right. Well, he's not leader anymore, he demoted himself. But he's still in charge of recruiting."

Numbers are falling into place. "And he takes an interest in Hazans."

"An extreme interest. I mean, he adopted the last one he met." She laughs, but there's a little edge in it.

Jonas shifts the satchel on his shoulder again. "You want to make an impression on him the first time you meet him. You said."

"I… I did say that." Mayellen blinks the blink of someone who's not used to most folks listening to anything she says.

"Does he know… if he hasn't met you, but he's interested in Hazans, does he not know you're Ben's sister?" Jonas seems to have accepted that this is all very peculiar, and now he is rolling with it.

"I… that's a bit… I try not to say that to everyone. Most folks think I'm Thurman Mullby's daughter. He’s married to my birth mother, you see. Being Byron Hazan's offspring is not usually considered a thing that would recommend one, so I keep it secret. I only said it to you because you were obviously a Hazan."

"Ah. But it didn't put him off Ben." Jonas rocks a little on his heels, also a slightly Ben mannerism.

May takes a moment to wistfully notice that before answering. "It didn't. To him Ben just looked like his beloved Niris. He doesn't associate that face with… broken bones and broken hearts."

Jonas regards her, his gaze a little sad and a little unsettled. "My father wasn't… like that. This is all… very strange. To hear."

"What was your father like?" She looks at him with genuine curiosity.

"Brave," says Jonas. "Loyal. He served his king and the Alliance. He and my mother were very much in love. He was good to her."

"Well, then that makes perfect sense!" May declares confidently.

"… it does?"

"Any Hazan with half a heart would have gotten out of Westfall as soon as he could. Like Aunt Niris, like Ben. Get away from the others."

"Oh. Yes, I see. I suppose that… does make sense, then." His tone suggests polite agreement rather than mathematical certainty.

"They were honestly just… horrible. Murderers, arsonists, philanderers." May seems to equate all of these things. "But they're all dead now, the bad ones anyway."

Jonas stands very still, digesting this.

"The good ones, it seems, got out. Found love and so on. Ben included; he has a lovely wife."

"Ah. Well that's — all for the best, then."

“I'm sure Aunt Niris could tell you more, she must have known your father, because they'd have both been in Westfall as children."

Jonas nods. "May I make a suggestion?"

"Certainly."

"I would like to meet Aunt Niris. You would like to make a favorable impression on Sir Elohad. Sir Elohad is interested in Hazans." Jonas raises his eyebrows, checking to see whether she's following his math so far. "Suppose I get settled in here while he's out of town — take a room, all that — and then when he's back, you bring me over and introduce me. Tell him you're Ben's half-sister, and you've found a… cousin who'd like to meet Aunt Niris. That would dispose him favorably, I should think."

Mayellen blinks once, twice, and then breaks out in a huge smile. "Oh, we must be related, because you're really awfully clever."

Jonas smiles very faintly. His ears redden. Kind of like– you get it.

May continues to beam at him. "Jonas, I'd like to be friends with you. I'm fresh out of friends at the moment. Can we be friends? At least until Niris can confirm that we're family."

"It seems to me we're likely already cousins. But I'd be glad to be your friend."

"Thank the Light, I was starting to summon my imp just to talk to, and that is a very very bad idea. You'll get a room here in Ironforge?"

Jonas nods. "Where's the best — the cheapest place, do you know? Just… a hostel, or boarding house, what-have-you."

"Maybe we can go out to Westfall together?” She hardly seems to have heard him, she’s so excited. “You seem like you could defend yourself against bandits." She gestures to the rifle strapped to his pack, then seems to belatedly process that he asked her a direct question. "Oh, I can make you a list. And if you sign up with Cobalt Company you'll have no trouble paying for it."

"I can defend myself against bandits. I spend a lot of time on the road. And I'd be interested to see Westfa–" Her last remark gives Jonas baffled pause.

"You said you like to travel, they go all over the world. Well, two worlds, I suppose. You could probably even get someone to go with you to Outland."

"I… could." He considers this with fresh interest.

"You're a shoo-in. Just put your hands in your pockets and look at Sir Ference like this…" Mayellen gives him a solemn, puppy-eyed Ben Look. "And you won't even have to say a word."

Jonas regards her a moment. Then, almost dutifully, he puts his hands in his pockets and gives her a solemn, puppy-eyed look. It isn't quite Ben, but actually by contrast — one might not have noticed, if one had only seen Ben do it — there's something a little less calculated, a little less disingenuous about the look on Jonas. He seems honestly sort of innocently bewildered about this whole thing.

Mayellen looks at him thoughtfully for a moment, then concludes, "Perfect." She pulls out some paper and a pen, already making a list of possible places for him to stay.

Jonas relaxes, hands still in pockets, and watches this process.

"Thank the Light, thank the Light,” May murmurs as she writes, “I truly do believe the Light had a hand in this. Sending a cousin straight to my door not days after everyone I cared about left!" She is still writing.

Jonas smiles, a little quizzically again. "Well. I'm glad to oblige you and the Light, I guess."

She gives an amiable little wince. "Sorry, I'm not normally the most religious person, but there are times you sort of can't help but feel the love from the universe." She hands him the list. "I put them in order of cheapest to most expensive. Just go down the list until you find one with available space that you can stand to sleep in."

Jonas accepts it, peruses it, nods once, folds it and tucks it into his pocket. "Thanks very much. I appreciate it." He smiles again a little ruefully. "As long as it doesn't rain indoors and there aren't lice, my standards are pretty easy."

"You can mention that when you apply to Cobalt Company! That sort of ruggedness is definitely a plus! I'm working on being less of a spoiled city girl myself."

Jonas smiles at her again. He does not remark on ruggedness. "I'll come by and let you know where I've settled. Or would you prefer a note? I wouldn't like to turn up uninvited a second time. I'm sorry to do it the first."

"No, it's fine, you weren't expecting to find a lady alone there. But now we're friends and cousins, so it's fine, come by whenever you like."

Jonas smiles again. "Thanks, May. I'll see you, then. To make our best impression."

"Yes! Do check out the rest of the museum before you leave, too. If you're not in too much of a hurry. I will go finish my shopping."

"I will. Good luck with the shopping." This last is said in the tone of someone who's also needed shopping luck pretty regularly.

Mayellen gives him a cheery wave and sets off back toward the Great Forge, with purpose.

Jonas watches her go, mildly, and then resumes browsing the museum.