(2024-10-02) Contracts and House Meetings (A Second Brief Homecoming Part 3)

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Author:	Athena
Summary:	The afternoon of October 2nd brings its additional items of business, including another unexpected one from a mysterious map delivered to the House some weeks before. A contract is negotiated, and Siamus learns that there might be some sort of strange reoccurring connection happening of people today who were involved in another event exactly one year ago. Part THREE of FOUR of A Second Brief Homecoming. 18k~ words.
Rating:	M for Mature 17+

Chain: Siarenne

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some suggestive content, non-graphic full and partial nudity, alcohol, brief mention of hypothetical sexual assault, brief mention of hypothetical torture, discussion around masochism, pregnancy/discussion of pregnancy

Continued from...

At A Little After Noon

The door of the Vice Admiral's office is closed. It was closed in some haste when the Duchess and the Vice Admiral returned from their walk to the shrine, and it has not opened again for over an hour. No one in the household considers this an unusual phenomenon.

Within the office, some of the furniture has been disarranged, dragged around or pushed together variously to uncertain purpose. Or to purpose we shan't speculate about, at least. Strewn around the floor are: the Vice Admiral's boots, the Duchess's shoes, the Vice Admiral's shirt, the Duchess’s dress, and the Duchess’s bra. The Duchess’s dress is a flopped puddle half-sinking over the side of Siamus’ desk. Her shoes are neatly and delicately laid side by side by the door. The Vice Admiral's coat is on his desk, and his waistcoat is hanging precariously and improbably from the corner of a bookcase. His crumpled cravat is just visible beneath an armchair. That sock is presumably his as well. Unclear where the other might be.

There is no visible evidence of any underwear of the Duchess’s, but this is likely because she had none on when she entered the office.

The Vice Admiral himself has just finished buttoning his trousers, and settles comfortably on the floor with his back propped against one of the hearthside couches. The couch in question is occupied by the Duchess. On the table before them is the tray Moirin deposited there some time ago, piled with a bounty of fruit and cheese; tiny quiches; equally tiny custard tarts layered with glazed fruit; tiny chocolate mousse tarts garnished with raspberries; tiny scones filled with cream; tiny tea sandwich triangles; and a crystal dish of chocolate truffles. The tray was considerably tidier — and fuller — an hour ago.

Also on the table is a half-empty glass of whiskey.

Siamus leans forward to collect his drink, and selects a chocolate mousse tart to offer Avrenne.

Avrenne still has one arm dangling limply over the side of the couch, the other flung out behind her to prop up her head on the arm of the couch with her hair a scattered mess draped over behind her and half pooled onto one shoulder, lounging with one leg bent and the other left precariously on the edge of the couch in a still lingering open invitation of her inner thighs, flushed from her chest to her cheeks, a vision of replete indolence that some artists would find irresistibly tempting to capture, to paint her like those free spirited French Lordaeron girls of yore.

She chuckles deep down in her chest, and then barely lifts her head and opens her mouth for the tart, her arms left in their languid positions. She is not moving from, or possibly even on, this couch at all for at least another twenty minutes. Maybe thirty. (She will have to move then, to prepare for getting ready to meet their arriving guests at 1pm.)

Siamus laughs back at her. He shifts, twisting around to offer the tart directly to his wife's waiting mouth.

Contemplation of that expectant mouth lights a familiar, suggestive gleam in his black-eyed gaze… but no, no, it's only been ten minutes or so. A man needs a chance to finish his drink.

A lady doesn't have to finish her chocolate mousse tart, but in doing so, she's following her doctor's orders (her doctor did not specify chocolate mousse tarts, but calories are calories). If she does a bit more than is necessary with pulling the tart into her mouth in sucking pulls, if she makes certain sounds in the pleasure of eating it while watching Siamus, and if she still doesn't lift her hands up to her mouth and chooses to lick her lips clean, well. It's been a long two months, and he's only been home for half a day.

But, the day is moving along, and Avrenne is aware of it, and the wheels in her head are turning along as they do. "I think we should have the meeting with Miss Lynds and Mr. Hatrim in the library," she says, her voice still warm smoke, that distracted tone of her thinking a thing through out loud. "The flowers should be ready soon, and we can meet them there, in a neutral sort of space that doesn't commit us to either suggestion before we hear them out, between the sense of a social visit in the parlor and the formality of the office." Well, not the office right now. Some other thought occurs to her though, through the haze. "Oh, I did mean to ask, the new map of Kul Tiras that arrived, did you want that set out to replace the one over the fireplace in the library?"

Siamus is still gazing at her mouth, probably because he is listening intently to her talk. Wait, no, it's the other thing.

"What?" he asks, remembering to look her in the eyes.

Avrenne moves the hand behind her head up with some effort, pointing a finger back towards Siamus' desk, to a scrollcase, a plain calfskin roll with that uncanny exacting nature of hers, not needing to look to know precisely where it is in relation to her there on the couch. Tucked into the leather cord that fastens the scrollcase is a card that simply reads STORMWIND FALLON in a crisp, copperplate hand. The ink is an unusual, slightly iridescent shade of peacock-green. It's grouped with other Non-Urgent messages and deliveries at the side of his desk, on the other side from where the Duchess' dress hangs off the side (the urgent side).

"The new map of Kul Tiras," she repeats. "It's just over there, in the scrollcase with 'Stormwind Fallon' on the card. It arrived several weeks ago, and I wasn't sure where you wanted it placed. It had no other message attached."

Siamus lowers his drink, a perplexed shadow falling across his expression. "I didn't order a map of — it came for Stormwind Fallon?" This detail seems to be what gets him to his feet. He sets his drink on the table and paces over to the desk to find the scrollcase.

He draws the card from the cord's wrap and lifts it to study, his brows drawn together. "Stormwind Fallon," he repeats, and turns the card to check for more information on its back. There is none. He turns it back, tips it in the light to consider the color and shimmer of the ink, then sets it aside on the desk and unwinds the cord from around the case. "I don't know the hand," he says. "And I didn't order a map."

This gets Avrenne's attention enough that she turns, and pushes herself upright into a sit (at last revealing that her bra was there, hidden beneath her, half pushed between the cushions of the back and seat of the couch). "It was delivered directly to the house, no return address to either cartographer or individual. There had been no note of sale, but I made the assumption that it was ordered, and that you would enter the cost in the ledgers when you returned," she explains. "It's…well, you shall see."

Siamus is obliged to slide both his coat and his wife's dress aside from the desk's surface so that he can unroll the map he draws out of the case. He spreads it out, holding the edges flat even as the corners curl in stubbornly, and studies it. "Tides ha'mercy but that's a beautiful piece of work. Look at the —"

He freezes.

Avrenne cannot look at anything on the desk from her current position on the couch, so she rises up to a stand, coming over to stand by Siamus' side, a hand reaching out to lightly rest on his back, her eyes flicking from his to the map, to pinpoint what has struck him to silence. "What is it?" she asks. She might well have asked which part is it, for what pieces ache the worst of his heart's homeland having been altered in the wake of the Cataclysm.

He sucks in a deep breath and shakes his head. His fingertips drift lightly over the reshaped Stormsong coastline, trace the new shape of Tiragade Sound. "It's all —" He clears his throat, still staring at the map. "I… knew, rationally, that it would have struck there. But to see —" His finger comes to rest on that small, solitary letter on the map: a little black x that marks a jagged new waterway knifed into the northern shore of the Sound, carving a new island out of the land there.

He holds there a moment, and then his hand moves again; his fingertip slides over that x as though he might feel it, it might be perceptible to touch. "Tides a'mighty," he says hoarsely, and lifts a stricken gaze to Avrenne's. "Has Ta seen this?"

"No, at least I don't think so. She never mentioned it to me if she has been in to check, and looked. I hadn't thought to alert her to it for any reason," Avrenne says, her own expression serious as she searches his. "What is that? What is the x?"

Siamus taps it again, staring. "I'll need… another map, a map of Tiragarde alone, to be certain." He does not sound like he actually needs another map to be certain. "But that's where — that looks to be approximately where Ferndale is. Was. Is."

He lifts his finger as if to check if the x is still there, over the new gap in the land. It very much is. "Ferndale," he repeats. "The Westry estate."

The flushed color left in Avrenne's face drains out, leaving her pale and serious, one hand reaching reflexively for his own, to cover it, as if she fears the map might reach up and grab his hand and pull him down into it. "Oh, Siamus," she says, all her attention on him now, her other hand stretching up from along his back to his hair. "I'm so sorry."

He shakes his head slowly, still staring. "Ta will… it will upset her. She lived there a time, ye know?" He continues to stare. "They despised me, anyway. Though — tides, I'll have to tell Thredd and Lyra. Fernridge is… the horses. The Thredds all live there, keeping the stables."

He stares a moment more, then brings his hand down hard on the map and steps back. "And how in hell I'm meant to confirm any of this… We'll have to try again to get a message through. Maybe they'll have… eased communication again."

He drags a hand through his hair. "But who sent it?"

"They might have had warning, as we did," she says, stepping with him, as in sync as if this was a dance they have practiced many times before, and this was the expected next beat of it. "The horses, and therefore any number of riders, might have made it far enough even if there was little enough of a warning." She looks back over the map. "Perhaps Sintha, or Miss Curran, will have a way of tracking down who might have sent it if we can determine where it came through in customs. Or possibly one of them might recognize the handwriting or know who would have taken up an interest enough to send this as a message.

"One always hopes that bureaucracy will move smoothly, but we don't know what state official records are there at all, even if we were to find a way to get a message through to ask for the right of knowledge by virtue of family connection, if they will recognize it. If not, it may be necessary to consider if someone may need to physically go on foot to the site, and speak to those living nearby if they have returned to their places, of what became of the family that was there. I will support you in any choice you make, Siamus, be willing to take on any difficulty in the asking. I know the agony of not knowing all too well," she says, her voice growing softer and quieter at the last.

"Annai," he says. "Aye, Annai might — but she's had no luck so far." He pauses. "I'll have to tell Ta. Ta and Thredd and Lyra." He is clearly making an unhappy mental list. "I'll have to — damn me, Bridgeport." He steps forward to bend over the map again, pale-faced.

After a moment, he shakes his head and straightens slowly. "Bridgeport looks… intact. Still, I'll have to tell Shine. I'll have to tell the lot of them. They've all got family — apart from Moirin and Cook, they've all got family at home. They'll want a look at this."

Avrenne does not add that the map only shows the land intact, and cannot possibly account for if or where Deathwing the Destroyer might have lived up to his name, because this is not the man to bring up potentials for where dragon's might have let loose dragonfire on people and buildings.

Instead, all she says is, "Of course. When would you like to do so? We have, oh, must be near half an hour before Miss Lynds and Mr. Hatrim are expected." It's closer to forty-five minutes, but that's possibly an acceptable generalized estimation.

Siamus takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. After a moment he says, "I'll tell them later. After the meeting with the pair of them. It may… be a conversation, and I don't want to run into the other meeting, or come to it fresh from that." He opens his eyes again and nods. "First the Lynds meeting, and then… a house meeting. Before dinner."

He's silent briefly. "I hate to put a damper on a celebration. But it can't be helped, I can't keep it from them now I know." He reaches down and lifts a corner of the map, turning it to peer at the back as though there might be a name or signature there. "The person who sent it knows… enough about our family. But for my part I can't think who that would be."

"Mm." Avrenne knows even less of who it could be, her eyes following his line of sight to look at the bottom of the map. "A house meeting then, at, shall we say, 3pm, if you think that is enough time for both, and before a proper dinner." The woman loves a schedule, what can she say. "Ery will generally have a period of full wakefulness from 2pm to 8pm before she will sleep again for the night." Just information for him to do what he wants with.

"I will have to have enough time for both." Siamus reaches reflexively as if to a waistcoat pocket for his pocket-watch; he does not have his pocket-watch. He is not wearing his waistcoat. He is not wearing his shirt. He looks down at himself. Oh, right. He looks up at Avrenne. "Lynds is at one. But we may be negotiating a contract." He frowns, pondering. Siamus Fallon could negotiate a contract for hours. It's his third favorite activity.

At last he nods. "Aye. Three, then."

"If it will take longer to finalize any negotiations, we can revise as needed," she says, as she walks to the other side of the desk to the bookcase to pick up his waistcoat, and produces the pocketwatch with that orderly sense of knowing precisely where things are. "But, as it is her family's business, it's possible Miss Lynds will arrive with a set of her terms already written and we will only need to address details and specifications." Aww, a quickie of contract negotiations. Well, better than nothing, right, Vice Admiral? "However, given what I assume to be the unplanned nature of this, it's best to plan that any agreement will need to be built from scratch and plan the hours accordingly, while still preserving as much as possible an acceptable amount of time you have requested for yourself of time with Ery and myself." She has her instructions from earlier, after all.

"Aye," says Siamus. "I did promise my starfish." He accepts the watch with a nod of thanks. But now he has no pocket to put it in. He sets it on his desk atop the map.

Avrenne looks at the map again, and then at the sole label card. "If when she returns from filing the paperwork in the city, Miss Curran has no immediate sense of recognition of either handwriting or cartographer's style, it should be noted that the ink is unusual enough, as far as I can tell, that it may hold some information of what it is, and where it would have been produced, if an expert can be found who would know. I have the date as well that this arrived, which should narrow down tracking possibilities in cargo manifests. Even if the information is that it did not pass through, or not as described, it will still tell us something about who could have managed it." She sets a hand on Siamus' arm. "We shall figure out the mystery of it, and the rest of what must be known for the house."

Her languishing on couches now deeply disturbed, however, Lady Fallon bends once more to grab up her discarded dress, shaking it out — she will not be able to wear it to the Lynds Meeting, as there are certain indications of activities lingering on the silk — and stepping into it to gather it up on her to at least make the walk from the office to her bedroom.

Siamus watches this process a little regretfully, but moves away from the desk to begin collecting his own discarded clothing. "Aye," he says. "I have faith in my canny ladies. We'll run it to ground."

At Near 1pm

A carriage arrives at Fallon House exactly when it was meant to, rolling across the gravel driveway and stopping — but not before a man jumps out the side and sprints around to the other door. Reniya Hartrim waits impatiently for the carriage to come to a full stop before pulling it open and offering a shaking hand to Tabiana inside. He looks jittery, like a man who has had too many cups of coffee.

“If you do not relax,” Tabiana says, taking his hand and stepping down to the ground, “they might think you have a condition. I need you to show them how healthy you are.”

“I uh… It’s a big house,” Reniya says, staring up at it. And to the sides at it. Yep. Big house. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his Formal leather armor of blue and gold. He looks Very Stormwind today. It was possibly Tabiana’s recommendation.

“Are you afraid of a house?” Tabiana asks, striding forward to the doorway. She is dressed in a formal suit of her own, though cloth, rather than armor. Her pants and jacket are a muted grey, and the shirt beneath is black. Compared to Reniya, she almost seems to blend in with the gravel. It is either her intention, or a lingering habit from her upbringing not to stand out.

“No,” Reniya says, hurrying after her, “it’s only, this’s bigger’n Lathrik said, and he said it was —”

Tabiana knocks on the door without waiting for him to finish.

The door is opened immediately by a butler whose appearance is not likely to set Reniya at ease. He is built like he's part vrykul, his hair close-shaven, and he looks like he could crush a man's skull between his bare hands.

At the moment, his hands are not bare, they are white-gloved, so perhaps everyone's skulls are safe. His butler's livery is immaculate, and he wears an expression of courteous neutrality. "Miss Lynds. Mr. Hartrim." He gives the barest suggestion of a bow. "Lord and Lady Fallon will see ye in the library. This way, if ye please." His accent is distinctly Kul Tiran.

He turns silently on his heel to lead the pair through the grand foyer, past the sweeping double staircase and the portrait of the terrifying woman in blue, along the paneled and silk-carpeted hallway to the first set of grand double doors on the left. He steps in and announces, "Miss Tabiana Lynds and Mr. Reniya Hartrim," then turns to the pair in question and ushers them in.

The library is a huge, high-ceilinged room that runs the entire breadth of the house, from the front hall to a bank of high casement windows at the back. The parquet floors are layered with ornate carpets in shades of blue and white, and one wall is lined solidly with floor-to-ceiling bookcases; the opposite wall is hung with maps of all sizes and places, tapestries of mermaids and other sea-mythology motifs, and paintings of ships and naval battles. Above the fireplace hangs a particularly huge map of Kul Tiras. Around a table before the fireplace is an arrangement of couches and armchairs.

On this table is an autumnal floral bouquet featuring the bright greenery and purple blooms of the sweet lemon geranium framing a gathering of deep, dark purple black hollyhock, and supported by a bit of star blossoms amid glossy green leaves of myrtle. A strongly brewed black tea in a teapot decorated with gladiolus flowers steams lightly, and teacups of hellebore and blue pansies await to be filled. (Because what Reniya needs most now is more caffeine.)

At the announcement, Lady Fallon, Duchess Esprit, rises from her place on the couch she had been resting on. There is absolutely no doubt that this woman is heavily pregnant, and it might even be such an obvious state that someone might wonder how far along she is. She is dressed as befits her titles, in a sumptuous gown of navy blue silk velvet with gossamer overlay of elaborate gold detailing that catches the light, delicate and complex beadwork at the pointed long sleeves that trail up her wrists. The square neckline makes her shoulders seem even more straight lines with her posture, and frames the gold and blue moonstones necklace draping across her collarbones. Her hair is caught back into a formal chignon, leaving space for her dangling gold earrings with some flower impression on them to be even more visible. She is composed, formal, and utterly unreadable, her left hand clasped over her right, showcasing her expensive wedding ring of stormsilver, gold, sapphires, and a large diamond.

The man standing at the far end of the room — about as far from the Lady Fallon as one can stand and still be in the same room as her — has been gazing out the windows with his hands clasped behind his back. He turns at the announcement, makes a silent survey of the arrivals, and then crosses the library at a leisurely pace to join the Duchess by the fireside.

Lord Fallon is a tall man, his dark hair a slightly windswept-looking tumble, his darker eyes gleaming as if at some private joke. He is dressed in a finely-tailored dark blue suit, his waistcoat an elegant shade of dove grey, and his cravat is jauntily askew. The faint, sardonic smile he wears matches the glint in his gaze.

He halts by the fireplace and makes a more leisurely perusal of the pair of newcomers. "Miss Lynds," he says. "Hartrim. Vice Admiral Siamus Fallon. I have the honor of presenting my wife, Her Grace the Duchess Esprit, Lady Fallon." He turns to incline his head with grave courtesy to Avrenne, and then looks back at the couple duo. "Come in, please, and join us."

He, too, has a Kul Tiran accent, but his has been burnished smooth, at least for the moment.

As the lady in the room, Avrenne sits first, so that everyone else may take a seat, smoothing her dress into proper places.

Tabiana bows, a gentle hand on Reniya's back guiding him to do the same. "Your Grace, Vice Admiral," she says. "I thank you for agreeing to this meeting." She does as bid and steps further into the room, taking a seat on the couch opposite Avrenne.

Reniya, perhaps unsure of the proper seating protocol, pauses beside the couch, either waiting for Siamus to sit, or waiting to do it at the same time. Either way, he is not sitting. He also hasn't said a word yet, which is probably for the best.

"Sit down, Hartrim," says Siamus, more or less affably, though there is a suggestion in his tone that he's not used to being disobeyed. He himself turns and goes to the sideboard. He does not offer Reniya a drink, which is how Reniya would know he is probably In Trouble, if he knew Siamus well.

"I hope the drive was not too arduous, Miss Lynds,” Avrenne says. “If you require anything to settle your stomach, by all means, don't hesitate to ask. I am familiar with how a carriage ride can upset things." It happened to her once, and she has never forgotten. "Will you have some tea?" she asks, reaching over to perform the hostess duty of pouring the tea. There are the usual offerings for people who dilute or alter their caffeine of milk, sugar, and lemon slices.

Reniya takes a seat next to Tabiana, his legs lowering him stiffly onto the couch. At the mention of the carriage ride potentially being problematic, he turns to her in clear surprise. “Oi, that’s a thing? You didn’t—”

“I am fine, thank you,” Tabiana says, as much to Reniya as to the duchess. “I would like some tea, please. Ralaea has been well, I hope?”

Siamus, meanwhile, is taking his tea with whiskey, minus the tea. He pours himself a glass from the crystal decanter at the sideboard, and then goes to lean casually against the fireplace mantel with his drink. He watches Reniya. His expression is still doing that inscrutable private-joke thing.

Avrenne blinks at the sound of Reniya's Kul Tiran accent, her dark eyes flicking to Reniya again, a sharper look as though taking in another round of details of him, before they flick back to Tabiana, that inscrutable composure hiding her thoughts.

Avrenne presents Tabiana a blue pansy teacup filled with what looks to be strongly brewed Earl Grey. "Yes, she has. Today we officially signed the paperwork taking her in as a ward of House Fallon, something that has been a hope for all parties involved for some time."

Tabiana brightens, her usual stoic expression vanishing, allowing a minor smile to take place. "Then congratulations to all of you," she says, accepting the tea. Apparently, she takes it plain.

Reniya shifts in his seat, noting the gazes on him. He distracts himself by looking at Tabiana.

Avrenne allows her own very small smile in return. "Thank you," she says, her voice coolly polite. "We are pleased with the arrangement." Wow, so emotional.

Avrenne's eyes flick once more to Reniya at the movement, before she pours him his own tea in another blue pansy teacup, presented without comment, and then one for herself in the hellebore teacup. The duchess also takes her plain. She sits back with her cup, regarding Tabiana with that serious expression of hers. "May I offer my own congratulations, for the blessing of a child of your own." She doesn't mention that it's under Unusual, Possibly Undesirable, Circumstances, because she is a diplomatic woman.

Siamus inclines his head and lifts his glass briefly to Tabiana in silent agreement with the Duchess. He offers no comment. He is not (yet) here to comment. He is here to discomfit certain parties if need be, and to giggle madly on the inside.

“Thank you, Your Grace, Vice Admiral. As you have likely surmised, it was not an intentional occurrence,” Tabiana says. “The fault is mine, though I do intend to follow this path where it leads. Hopefully, to the restoration of House Lynds. That is why we have come. To discuss how my House might serve yours.”

Reniya frowns, looking as though he might object when Tabiana takes the blame onto herself, but ultimately, he keeps his mouth shut.

Siamus raises an eyebrow at that same assertion. He looks from Tabiana to Reniya. "Now, I may not be as well-versed in the whole business as I could be," he observes with perfect gravity, "but in a circumstance like this, I was under the impression two parties are responsible."

"As the Vice Admiral says," Avrenne agrees. "You may speak frankly, Miss Lynds. You may assume that as a lady who negotiated her own marital contract and specifications around progeny, that I am accustomed enough to the subject that I will not censure you for an indelicate topic," Avrenne says, her voice a little dry. "As you may be aware and recall of House Esprit, we are not one to hold these things against a woman. I will say plainly that if you, the mother, do not desire to enter into wedlock, it shall not be a requirement of you for our House in negotiations. If you do wish for it, it shall be seen to." It's telling that she does not offer these same options to Reniya. "However, I would rather not operate under surmises and in assumptions of your preferences, or the involvement and intentions of the father, regarding the future. You may lay out your terms and conditions, Miss Lynds. We are listening."

Tabiana takes a deep breath and clasps her hands in her lap. “My desire, as it has ever been, is to serve my House to the best of my ability. As you know, the Lord I was sworn to serve met his end, and yet, I remain. I am no less than the failure of House Lynds. With respect, Your Grace, my preferences are irrelevant, as long as I can redeem my House. The choice of wedlock I would leave to you, as it would influence any future children.”

Siamus sets his glass down on the mantel a little harder than necessary, and moves to take a seat on the couch with Avrenne. At the other end of the couch from Avrenne. All of the sly laughter has vanished from his manner, and he settles back and crosses his legs and watches Tabiana seriously, almost sternly.

Avrenne takes the information in, sipping her tea before she sets it down on the table. Oh no, both of the Fallons have set down their drinks. That probably means something.

"If that were to be the case, Miss Lynds, then you must be prepared that I shall return the investment of that power back to you, charging you with the responsibility of seeing to your own choice in the matter, and that it must be in accordance with your preference that you have dismissed as irrelevant restored back to full relevancy," Avrenne says firmly. "It is not in my nature to control a person to such a degree, and you will not find in House Fallon an attitude conducive of assigning you off like one of our Tirasian broodmares. You can also be assured that your choice of matrimony has no bearing on your House's redemption or purpose being fulfilled, for now or for future children. As I stated already, if you wish to bind yourself to Mr. Hatrim, that is your choice, but it is not one required of you." Again, it is telling that Reniya is not being offered any options or choices.

Her tone softens somewhat. "I am well aware of the pressure one faces as the last one's House, left with the sole burden to see to the continuation of that line that was once shared across many, but you do not do them honor by dismissing yourself as irrelevant, Miss Lynds. There will be no terms in a contract with House Fallon that gives us the right to do so. That is not our way, whatever you may have come to expect from House Morningdew or your own. And I was there, Miss Lynds, and heard Mr. Morningdew's testimony. He set off alone, intentionally, preventing you from doing your duty. As with other things, it takes two to make such an outcome, and you cannot bear the blame for his decision for having been given no say in it.

"Now," Avrenne says, her tone going brisk and businesslike once more. "What we must know is how you would like to negotiate a new agreement with our House, what you will expect and need from us in terms of housing, training, and financial compensation, what you intend to commit to doing yourself, and what is necessary for your House's purpose to be seen to in your estimations of these things. I don't have all the details of your House's arrangement with House Morningdew, and you must not assume that we understand or have the knowledge of those specifics."

Siamus drums his fingers on the arm of the couch and watches Reniya again mildly. That is, the set of his expression is mild — but his eyes are very dark and very sharp.

“I understand,” Tabiana says, after taking a moment’s pause, probably to shove some invisible Feelings back into a box. She remains as stoic as ever. “Historically, House Lynds was based on the property of House Morningdew, in the case of the Main Family, or on its outskirts, in the case of the branch families. In both cases, we had our own houses and facilities, and did not live directly alongside our counterparts with the exception of children under the age of ten, or in special circumstances. We did join them during the day or whenever they left House Morningdew grounds.”

She stops here to take a sip of tea before continuing. “I do not need property of my own, as House Lynds has been significantly reduced in size. A single room would suffice, if House Fallon finds the close contact acceptable. If not, I will see what can be found nearby in Elwynn. On the topic of marriage, I would like it known that I have no objections to Reniya as the father of my child — he is strong, healthy, and holds a respectable position with the Stormwind Guard — but that I made an impulsive decision and would like the time to consider the future of House Lynds before making such a commitment.”

Once again, Reniya does not look particularly happy with the way Tabiana is describing things. He leans forward, elbows resting on his legs, and frowns into his hands. Still, he is silent.

Avrenne's eyes flick to Reniya.

Siamus's eyes have never left Reniya. "Did ye have something to add, there, Hartrim?" he asks politely.

Reniya jolts straight again, and looks to Tabiana. She lifts her eyebrows in response.

“She’s uh… strong and devoted lass,” Reniya says. Surely that’s safe to say.

Is it? Avrenne regards him with an expression so cold and unmoving that she makes some Northrend glaciers seem warm and lively.

"I wasn't asking ye for an opinion of the lady," Siamus says. "Although I'm glad to note it's evidently a fair one, since it's the first you've spoken up for her or in this whole affair at all. Do ye have anything to say on the wider matter, or are ye just here to look pretty and skulk out when business is concluded?"

For the first time, a smile plays at Reniya’s lips. He covers his mouth with a hand. Bad timing, Ren. “T’be honest, Vice Admiral, I was told to keep my mouth shut,” he says. “An’ I fear the lass’s wrath more’n yours.”

Tabiana regards Reniya flatly. He did not, after all, keep his mouth shut.

Avrenne cannot raise one brow, so she raises both, her eyes flicking to Tabiana. If she has any opinions on this arrangement, it's difficult to read them. "Then you were saying, Miss Lynds, on the details of the contract of Houses you are seeking to establish?"

Siamus continues to watch Reniya, but some of that glittering frost in his gaze seems to have thawed, and the gleam of that sardonic, inward humor is back.

Tabiana nods and continues. “Ideally, the children would be raised together, to form a bond of trust from an early age,” she says. “I will personally handle the training of my child, to ensure the standards of House Lynds, and the child will go on to serve in whatever capacity they might. They will have extensive combat training, as well as whatever else may be required of them, from light carpentry to clerical duties. It will depend on the needs of their Lord or Lady. As for financial compensation, you need only do as you might for any other employee of the House. I intend to use what I am given to provide for my child and their lessons and care. Reniya has also offered to support us financially as well as he can, regardless of wedlock.

"If, for whatever reason, my child does not perform as expected or desired, you are free to void the contract with no repercussions. This offer is made in good faith, both as proof of my trust in House Fallon, and as a show of confidence that such a thing will not be needed, and that House Lynds will uphold its duty as it always has, adding a strong pillar of support for your House.”

Reniya is now watching Siamus back, the nerves from earlier at least a little bit settled. He's leaning forward again, his mouth hidden behind his hands.

Some of the frost in Lady Fallon thaws at the recognition that Reniya has made, at the least, a decent offering of support. It takes her down from dangerously freezing to the same cool politeness she otherwise has, an unshakeable composure that lends her the air of someone just outside the range of actual royalty, and an extra glamour of foot of height. She leans forward to take her teacup up again, turning to look at Siamus, to defer to his questions and opening negotiations on particular points.

Siamus rises to his feet and paces back to the fireplace. He picks up his glass from the mantel and turns to face the seated group, his other hand in his pocket. It is an unhurried moment before he speaks; he wears the slight, abstracted frown of a man collecting and collating his thoughts.

He has an absent sip of his drink, then focuses on the room again; he glances at Avrenne and nods once in acknowledgement before turning to Tabiana.

“I warn ye now this may be a lengthy conversation; I have, as it happens, a great many questions. I will preface them with the observation that — as I should trust ye well know — I am not a native of the Eastern Kingdoms. The custom of a sworn retainer is an unfamiliar one to me except in its vaguest outlines, and so if I ask questions that seem ignorant, I will beg your pardon in advance and concede that they are, in fact, ignorant. As a corollary, I would appreciate full frankness in your answers. Ye will note I am a frank man myself, and while I appreciate a well-meant courtesy, in a situation like this one I appreciate even better the respect inherent in the plain truth. I will be speaking plainly myself, and it is with no discourtesy intended.

“Before I respond with more specific discussion of several points of your initial proposal, I will ask ye my foremost consideration: Why House Fallon, beyond its association with the Duchess Esprit? I can understand, naturally, your faith in Her Grace as an honorable lady of sterling character; it’s why I married her. You are aware, however, that ye will not be committing your child to the Duchess alone but to a House and family line of Stormwind, the head of which is an expatriate Tirasian, and which keeps and will keep to the customs of its Tirasian heritage as well as those of the Duchess’s Lordaeron line. Any objection to that would seem to make House Lynds unsuited as a match with Fallon, though naturally we are sympathetic with your situation and could perhaps look into other assistance.”

He has another sip of his drink and regards Tabiana mildly. There is nothing sharp in his manner, despite any bluntness; he possesses a patient air, in fact, of something like kindness.

Tabiana does not seem fazed by this question at all. "As it happens, Vice Admiral, our child will share that same heritage, being born of both Lordaeron, and full blooded Tirasian. As such, I would welcome any education on Tirasian customs, as I would prefer our children to share in that connection, and for my child to know Kul Tiras as well as Lordaeron. Reniya came to Stormwind at the age of seven, so his memories of Kul Tiras are limited. As for Stormwind, Reniya and I have both pledged to serve in the Stormwind Guard, though in my case, I will soon be unfit for such duties. Further, given Ralaea's hesitance to trust just anyone, to hear that she has been staying here — and has even become a ward of House Fallon — shows me that is not only Her Grace with exceptional character, but you as well."

Reniya spares a glance at Tabiana. It's hard to tell if he's impressed or terrified. Maybe both.

Siamus affords Reniya another long look, this one more assessing. Then he looks back to Tabiana and inclines his head with a slight, slanting smile, lifting his glass to her again briefly.

"Very well," he says. "Let's begin."

Apparently that was not the beginning.

Siamus sets his glass down again to lean his shoulder against the mantel, arms folded. "Her Grace will, I am certain, be able to expand upon — or correct, perhaps — a number of my inquiries." He nods respectfully at his wife before returning his focus to Tabiana.

"The first item — understand I am taking these roughly in order from your response to Her Grace — is that ye say that we should pay you as any of our employees. You must appreciate that although our employees are paid well and considered adjuncts to the House, there is a spectrum of salaries among them. I understand it may be considered rude in certain circumstances to discuss money in frank terms, but as I said, I am a frank man, and we are negotiating a contract. I would be interested to know in plain terms how well ye would have expected to be compensated by House Morningdew, with the natural acknowledgement that figures must be adjusted for increases in the cost of living and for inflation — the latter particularly, in the kingdom’s current economic circumstances."

He waits politely.

"House Morningdew had a close relationship with House Lynds, built over generations," Tabiana replies. "House Lynds was also much larger than it is now, and had facilities to upkeep and many children to look after until they reached adulthood and could earn their own wages. Any number I present to you based on that history would not be a fair or accurate representation of House Lynds's current capabilities. I am prepared to start at the low point on the spectrum of salaries, until such time as I have proven the worth of my House to House Fallon. Any additional compensation will be at your discretion."

Siamus exhales and tips his gaze toward Avrenne again. "It's bloody pineapples," he mutters. Maybe this is a Kul Tiran expression? Who knows?

Avrenne finds herself struck by the sudden need to drink her tea. Very slowly, and with her eyes lowered to her cup, her lashes fluttering slightly. Maybe it's a pregnancy thing.

When she at last lowers the teacup again, she is unsmiling and serious. "If I am understanding you correctly, Miss Lynds, as you stated, you intend to use your compensation to provide for your child, their lessons, and their care, as well as using your time to train your child in full on a wide variety of skills, while needing to give up your current position and salary as a guard. It would then be counter to our benefit to withhold a salary that reflects what we would want, which is, of course, naturally your best possible efforts. To give you a low point to start as if doing so will be a fair evaluation of your capabilities runs entirely opposite of what would see the greatest return of investment for House Fallon. We are not interested in testing or evaluating you based on your ability to do more with less, after all. You do not order a man to swim a length of sea in order to prove he could manage the distance with a proper ship, when what you want is to evaluate an efficient transportation back and forth of a route by ship.

"I have the experience of a House sponsored knight, who was recently lost in the attack on Stormwind," she says, and her voice is steady, but an unmistakable sharp note of grief winds its way through it. "So I am familiar with such a vassal's salary, but he had no dependent, and few needs." The number she names is still generous, a good several thousand gold above what a Stormwind guard would make. Private security has its benefits. "I would therefore propose doubling the yearly amount to account for it, and increase the amount by another 50% with each subsequent child you produce, if there are additional children. We have the space and accommodations to see you and the child housed here, and we have no strict lines between our natural born children and our wards, so I see no reason for another between our children and yours in service to them. That will account for some of the compensation, and should you later change your mind and wish for your own place, we can revisit the arrangement to adjust the numbers accordingly." She looks to Siamus for any adjustments of figures or specifications.

Siamus is drumming his fingers on the mantelpiece, gazing at the Duchess. He nods to her. To Tabiana, he says, "I realize you are approaching us at what is a low time for your house. That does not diminish the value of your experience and the services ye propose to offer, and as the Duchess observes, if ye require resources to provide those services to the best of your ability, it doesn't benefit us to stint. And bear in mind that you are negotiating also on your child's behalf. I would strongly advise ye never to enter a negotiation prepared to ask for the least of your worth." He straightens again.

"The salary Her Grace suggests strikes me as a reasonable one, with the stipulated increase per additional dependent. I have additional questions as to the structure of future compensation to your House, although I see Her Grace may already be versed in those particulars. Namely, however — ye say that we should compensate you as an employee. The child you're offering will naturally be provided for as any member of the household, but is the expectation for the child — and descendants of House Lynds — that of ongoing wages, as in a standard employment contract? The magnitude of the proposed commitment would seem to suggest otherwise, to me. It is my own initial inclination to set funds aside in trust for the child to receive upon majority — as I do for any of my own children — in addition to whatever subsequent wages we may provide, considering the degree of the dedication expected. If this is somehow a violation of custom and courtesy in the Lordaeron tradition of retainers, ye must advise me, and again I’ll thank ye to do so plainly."

It seems a little bit like the negotiating the Fallons are doing is on Tabiana's behalf, rather than in opposition. Weird.

"Historically speaking, House Lynds itself set money aside for the child upon reaching majority," Tabiana says. "Admittedly, I do not possess the full details of the contract with House Morningdew, as we had a council of House members, headed by my mother, who saw to such things. It was to be my sister who took on that role, following our mother, but she left the House shortly before Lordaeron's fall, and I had precious little time to learn, in addition to my duties to my Lord. To be completely plain, I barely know what I am doing in negotiations such as these, and am accustomed to making more out of less as I have had to every day since the Fall. If I have offered insult in so doing, then I deeply apologize."

Siamus raises his eyebrows. He shakes his head. "You've given no offense, Miss Lynds; it's only yourself ye might disadvantage by coming about the matter this way, and I'd prefer not to see that happen. I'll not have it said that House Fallon devalues its people. If I sound insulted, I assure ye I am not — only blunt, as I forewarned, and negotiating a contract of substantial weight."

He pauses, glances at Avrenne, and then with some conscious effort softens his tone to address Tabiana again. "As I said, I know very little of how this works, and my foremost concern is with making sure you and the child are treated honorably."

He doesn't look at Reniya. Maybe it just kind of felt like he looked at Reniya there.

Avrenne leans forward toward Tabiana. "And you must know how I sympathize with your situation in regards to your House, Miss Lynds," she says, not unkindly. "I know full well what it is like to have come from a House once so thriving and widespread in its establishment that to have imagined myself as not only the head, but the sole survivor of it, would have seemed the verge of a worrying depressive mindset requiring a physician's care. It's not your fault that you have not had the preparation, and we will not hold it against you or your House, nor will we use your inexperience to our sole benefit, as it's not in either of our natures to do so.

"If it might help, for the future, think of it always as if one holds the people one is negotiating with in high regard and respect, and one is offering a product or service to those people, one should always have that regard and respect reflected back at oneself for the product or service. The line between humbleness and pride can be difficult to walk, but in this case, you might more easily err on the side of pride. I am not entirely unfamiliar with your family, and I know that you have done as well as anyone could be reasonably expected to do through extremely exceptional circumstances." That's the maximum on Avrenne's Circumstances Chart.

"Now," she says, again all brisk business. "If we assume you will be putting your salary into a trust, let us adjust the number accordingly by another 50% of the current new baseline, and assume that each child at majority who intends to take up your same position begins with the same baseline of your own minus the initial dependent, and the same agreement of increasing with each child produced. If they act only in the capacity of a personal retainer and guard, with no children or training of others, their baseline can remain at the same as a knight of the House. Does that seem reasonable, Miss Lynds?"

Siamus is drumming his fingers on the mantelpiece again.

"I thank you both for your consideration, Your Grace, Vice Admiral," Tabiana says, tightening her hands in her lap. "I am more than happy to manage the trust funds on my own, of course, but if it would not add further burden on your House, I would prefer to have it managed by House Fallon, at least until such a time as House Lynds can establish itself more fully. While before we had an entire council to handle such things, I am only one, and my descendants will not be numerous enough to ensure such a council springs up again in good time. As such, though I will do my utmost to strive against it, there will not be as many checks in place to weed out corruption, or prevent my descendants from taking the extra compensation for themselves. My sister leaving the House opened my eyes to such a possibility, and that is why this concern presents itself before you now."

Reniya is watching Tabiana closely now. He's learning a lot of things he didn't know about her.

Siamus nods once. "We will be very happy to manage the trust for ye until such time as House Lynds might be ready to assume control. We'll put those specifications in the final contract. Now, if the finance is settled, I have additional items to discuss." He looks at Avrenne, a brow tipped upward.

"I shall add that I would be more than happy to teach you the methods of the management of the trusts and the workings of a contract to prevent as much corruption as can be reasonably expected, as I have the experience in both," Avrenne adds. She's good at adding things. She nods to Siamus. She has no further financial things at this time, and she's holding other questions that she might have for the time being in deference to his own — as many are likely to be those of her own — as she often does.

Siamus pauses, considering for a moment, and then he says, in the gentler tone he'd summoned briefly earlier, "I will preface this by reiterating that I am in no way offended by any of this discussion. Aye? When I say ye may speak freely and I'll not take offense, it's not a test; be sure that ye may speak freely. My responses to things said are just that, and not meant to suggest personal affront."

He pauses a moment as if to give Tabiana a chance to digest this, and then continues.

"Ye say you make a good faith offer that we may void the contract without repercussions if the child fails to perform to expectation or desire. I am unwilling to accept that on its face — again, without offense — particularly in view of the long-term intent of the contract to provide for your House. Don’t mistake me, I do appreciate your faith in us, but I must insist on safeguarding your contractual rights in this situation, whether you will or no. The terms under which the contract may be voided should be specifically enumerated, for the protection of the future of House Lynds. I decline to write a contract so imbalanced on its face.

"While I firmly believe that ye will not find your trust in House Fallon misplaced, it's my view that trust plus an ironclad contract will serve your interests better in almost every circumstance.

"I similarly find the representation that House Lynds will serve ‘in whatever capacity they might’ over-broad, for a like reason. Ye negotiate on behalf of your own House’s future, Miss Lynds. Have a care." His tone softens again on the last; it sounds like genuine concern, not a reprimand.

After a silence he adds, "And lest ye still worry about offense, let me say how personally glad I am that it's House Fallon ye came to. I will not pretend that the Duchess and I are more scrupulous in our business dealings than many; I will say it outright. We are."

Avrenne nods her approval and agreement, as she moves to refill her teacup with fresh tea. The tea from the pot has cooled over some of the time of discussion, but as Avrenne sits back once more, the tea steams lightly into the air as if by magic (because it is).

Tabiana inclines her head. "I can see clearly why Ralaea became comfortable and ultimately settled here," she says. "If I might ask, how, then, would you propose to handle any potential voiding of the contract? Additionally, I will amend my original statement of 'whatever capacity they might' to exclude torture at the hands of their Lord, and forced sexual activities. My aim was that they may perform additional duties similar to those of a maid or butler. In my case, due to various circumstances, I have also received basic training in carpentry and blacksmithing. Nothing extremely advanced, but enough to get by."

Siamus looks faintly startled by the whole concept of torture and/or forced sexual activities. He contemplates that for a moment.

"… Well, aye, let's put those items at the top of any list of reasons that House Lynds might void the contract. Though tides take any descendant of mine who'd do either." He folds his arms. "We can stipulate first that any action considered a crime — a felony crime, mind ye — in the kingdom of Stormwind is grounds for voiding the contract, either party having the power to do so against the offending party. An exception will be made for self-defense or actions taken by the Lynds party for the protection of the Fallon party, in which case House Fallon can be expected to pay all legal fees and provide the Lynds party's defense." He spreads his hands. There, that was an easy one.

"Carpentry and blacksmithing I confess are useful trades and broadly applicable. I would suggest, considering House Fallon's nature, that the Lynds children should learn sailing and navigation as well."

He turns to look at Avrenne. "Your Grace? Further thoughts?"

"I am in agreement thus far, Vice Admiral. They seem all entirely reasonable terms." Avrenne considers her tea for a moment. "I should like, I think, to stipulate that one of the terms that cannot be grounds for voiding the contract would be if when any child of House Lynds comes of age, they choose — for whatever reason — to not retain the position, and to not continue as they have been brought up to do. Not only does it go against my preferences to not hold a minor to a contract they cannot properly assent to, but I don't think it would be in our children's best interests to have a retainer who does not wish to act in that capacity. We might raise our children to hold certain expectations of their actions, but they will at times go their own way, and I don't think it means a failure of your actions or instilled values when taken on good faith that you will do so. By this due course, one must also allow that any future individual Lynds may leave the contract at will, without it voiding the greater contract of the House.

"Additionally, I should like it to be stated that if any additional children of the Lynds line, whether from your own issue, future progeny, extended family, or marital partners with lovers, are born out of wedlock, that the children and parent are treated as covered within the contract by their House, or if outside it such as a lover of a married Lynd, by consenting agreement, and that it cannot void the overall contract in any way. And that, most especially, the child will not be punished, having equal opportunity, and no reduction in their trust or salary, as any other born with planned intention. From this, I shall also say that if you were to add a child to your House through other means, such as adoption, that they are treated with the same terms as a natural born child, unless you specify otherwise."

Siamus nods mildly, folding his arms again. "I agree absolutely, Your Grace," he says. Gosh, they're so polite to each other.

"Given my present situation, to state that I might condone the punishment of or fail to support any child born outside of wedlock would be the highest form of hypocrisy," Tabiana says. "And I am in agreement that a reluctant retainer would be more of a hindrance than a boon. Very well. I accept your terms. Vice Admiral, I am myself not well versed in either sailing or navigation. I would ask for House Lynds children to receive such education alongside their House Fallon counterparts, if that is to your satisfaction."

"It is." Siamus nods once to Tabiana. "And I would further stipulate that upon any voiding of the contract, if House Fallon is the party that voids, they pay a penalty of three years' salary into the Lynds trust in severance, unless they are voiding for criminal conduct by House Lynds, in which case their obligation ends. If House Lynds voids the contract, they may expect payment in full for the current year, but surrender any expectation of future recompense. Unless, again, they are voiding for criminal conduct by House Fallon, in which case Fallon will pay the aforementioned severance penalty." His gaze is a little distant. He might already be writing this all down in his mind.

Then he snaps back to focus. "That leaves me two further questions, both practical in nature. The first one is, ye say that Mr. Hartrim has offered to support ye financially to the best of his ability. Do ye have such an arrangement established clearly in writing?" He is definitely asking Tabiana, not Reniya.

Avrenne is likely making her own mental notes as they go, everything set to the fixed ledger in her mind. If she misses her shadow of a secretary, it doesn't show, as she sips her tea.

"No, Vice Admiral," Tabiana says. "We have not yet had the time to establish the proper paperwork. It was… with fairly short notice that I asked him here, time being of the essence."

Reniya's nerves seem to have returned some, and he leans back, one of his knees beginning to bounce, his hands settled loosely in his lap. He remains silent.

Siamus looks between them. He raises his eyebrows. "How short was this notice?"

"I informed him at approximately eight o'clock in the morning, just before the start of his shift. His absence for the afternoon has been cleared with our commanding officer," Tabiana replies.

Reniya finds something on the wall to look at, as a distraction.

Avrenne's brows raise. "If I may ask, Miss Lynds, how far along are you, to the best of your knowledge?"

Siamus is very still for a moment where he stands by the mantel, and then he rather ostentatiously takes his pocket-watch from his waistcoat and consults it. You know perfectly well what time it is, Siamus. You know how many hours ago 8 AM was.

He gives Reniya a newly-considering look.

"Conception would have occurred on the fifth of September," Tabiana says, "and he is the only partner I have had, so there is no mistaking who the father is, if that is a concern."

"Not of mine, personally," Siamus says dryly. He's still watching Reniya.

There's a slight softening of Avrenne's expression, some sympathy, perhaps. "Nor of mine. I am not attempting to determine paternity, only interested in the math and timeline that we are establishing here," Avrenne says, not unkindly. "So, 27 days along, which means this is also likely recent news to you as well, as I have been informed that it is difficult to detect any pregnancy earlier than two weeks, and most will not know for several weeks after unless they are deliberately checking. If I may ask, and you may take my questioning only as a desire to have the facts, not an indirect censure of any sort, have you established a physician for your maternal care yet?"

Siamus takes his glass up again and goes back to the sideboard. His glass is still half-full, so it's… oh. He's setting another glass out. He picks up the decanter and tips a measure of very expensive whiskey into the second glass, and brings this back over to the sitting area. He stops in front of Reniya and offers the glass down to him wordlessly.

"I have not, Your Grace," Tabiana says. "As you have stated, it is a rather early detection. The healer I saw for confirmation was one provided at the barracks. From there, I spoke with Patrol Officer Pennings about my employment, wrote to House Fallon, and spoke with Reniya. I understand there are yet a great many things I will need to see to."

Reniya accepts the glass with a grateful nod, and tips it back almost immediately, draining it with such speed that one might wonder if he even tasted it.

Siamus looks entertained. Look at the li'l guy go. He offers to take the glass back, still wordless.

Reniya passes the glass back to him.

Tabiana watches this exchange, but her expression remains neutral, making it hard to tell what she might be thinking.

Siamus takes the empty glass back to the sideboard, sets it down, and then just stands there, a hand in his pocket, his own drink in his other hand. He is watching Reniya again in that inscrutable, slightly amused way.

"If it is agreeable to you, I can recommend my own physician. It is, indeed, quite a lot to see to it. I spent over a year in the narrowing down of my own, three years before I was even married to the Vice Admiral," Avrenne says. She does not mention that the reason she would have done this was that she was expecting to be married then. Old wounds, healed over.

"She is of Lordaeron, with over thirty years of experience in full maternal care, and with three births of her own. She served in the First and Second war as a field nurse, trained under three master physicians, and is capable of performing a number of surgeries. She works closely with an assistant who specializes in the Light in fetal detection, health, and healing, and incorporates the information with her own expertise to provide exceptional care. If you require additional information, I would be happy to answer questions, and those I do not know, she can answer for herself. I can also facilitate a meeting if you would prefer to meet her in person before agreeing to it, and I will take no offense if you choose another. It is a very personal decision." She sets her tea down, moving a hand over the swell of her dress soothingly. Oh, the boys might be at it again.

"You should also be aware that House Fallon employs a Kul Tiran priest of the Light, who resides in house at the moment, and is available for any emergency," Avrenne adds, sounding a little breathless.

Siamus straightens sharply near the sideboard and takes half a step in Avrenne's direction; not alarmed, just On Alert. "Mo chroí?" he asks.

Avrenne shakes her head, a hand raising up in forestalling, turning her head to face him, still running her hand over her belly as if this can soothe the interior. "It's only the boys kicking. I have likely been still too long for their liking," she says, her voice dry.

"I am twenty-four weeks and a day along, myself, with all that entails," Avrenne explains to Tabiana. "Babies get quite active at this stage, and as I am expecting twins, it is twice the activity."

"Twin boys," Siamus adds. It's something of a non-sequitur, and also Avrenne just said basically the same thing, even if she did note those details in two separate sentences.

Reniya seems to have lost a shade of color, glancing between Avrenne and Tabiana. Apparently he was unaware that babies could do that. Good job, sir, you have inflicted kicking babies on Tabiana.

Tabiana looks a bit surprised at the news. "Twin boys, congratulations," she says. "I will… only be able to provide a retainer for one of them, likely, given that House Lynds is reduced to one. That would be my preference, that it be one of the twins. While there is no strict age limit on House Lynds matches, the younger the House Lynds retainer, the less able they are to provide adequate services in good time. Older is preferred, when there must be a significant age gap. I myself am older than my Lord was. By seven years, or so."

"You should then be aware that our first daughter, our eldest, will be only at most 10 months older than her brothers, as these pregnancy were quite close together, but if you would prefer it to be of one of the boys, you should know that it is House Fallon's intent to continue the tradition of House Esprit to commit a second son to the military. It seems reasonable, with that expectation, to assign a retainer thusly," Avrenne says, looking to Siamus for confirmation of this course.

Siamus inclines his head. He does not look smug about either the fact that his wife's pregnancies are only ten months apart or the fact that this one is Twin Boys, but it's only by massive force of will.

"Which brings me to another two questions, Miss Lynds, if I may, and I will ask that you do not take it as there being an incorrect answer, only that I wish to have these things spoken directly for expectations and understandings," Avrenne says. "With the birth of the twins, I will have seen to a minimum of children that satisfies both House Fallon and House Esprit, however, I intend to continue to have more until I am no longer able, with no upper limit to how many children that may be. There will be necessary gaps, for safety reasons, and the vagaries of these matters, but that is my intention. So I ask, what will your own intention be for your own preferences, and health? I will say that if you are not already aware, there are some pregnancies that are higher risk than others, requiring the surrender of physical combat and heavy physical labor, which will impact your choices for how you might be training or raising children. Do you want to have those contingencies in place ahead of time?"

"Satisfies, that is, the terms of our own contract," Siamus clarifies mildly, and turns back to the sideboard for more whiskey.

He is of course just noting it so that Tabiana and Reniya can see how normal it is for normal people like these to have contracts, and not because he will never let it be said that he, personally, Lord Fallon, is satisfied by three children. Not even if one of them is the World's Most Perfect Child and the other two are TWIN. BOYS.

He refreshes his glass and then refills Reniya's and brings it back to him. After handing it over, this time he settles leisurely down in the armchair across from where Ren sits on the couch. He settles back, crosses his legs, and resumes that inscrutable study of the other man.

"I would like to keep pace with House Fallon in that regard," Tabiana says firmly, "as I believe it will be key to reestablishing my own House. With that said, it does mean I will need to seek an appropriate husband, and perhaps enlist outside aid where necessary."

Reniya stares into his glass, his hands shaking slightly. "She has… friends," he says. "We could—"

Tabiana places a hand on his arm. "Reniya, please," she says.

Siamus looks between the two and raises his eyebrows.

Avrenne's eyes flick from Tabiana to Reniya and then back. Rather than ask anything, she waits with a — in more ways than one — pregnant pause, her own brows raised in invitation to elaborate which duties these friends would be potentially performing.

"We have not discussed or disclosed anything to said friends yet," Tabiana explains, "so Reniya is volunteering them prematurely. Two of them are with the Stormwind Guard as well, so I believe his intention was to volunteer them and himself to help train any future children, which will not be necessary, Reniya, thank you." She pats his arm, then releases him.

"I see. This is only still hypothetical to enclose potential situations, and I think that in terms of the contract, the selection of the trainers should be at House Lynds discretion based on the understanding that the House will see to its own that way, if that seems reasonable," Avrenne says, and she resettles herself on the couch, breathing deeply as if trying to convince the boys to stop their kicking by increasing the oxygen (it does not work). "I think that satisfies my questions and concerns for the overall contract with House Lynds." This has a slightly ominous implication, as there is, after all, another person in the room Avrenne has yet to address fully. "Vice Admiral?" she prompts, looking to him for his remaining questions.

Siamus is still watching Reniya. "As my final question regarding House Lynds was to do with which child ye proposed your current one to match, and that's been addressed, I believe I'd like to turn my attention to a corollary matter." Both his tone and the direction of his gaze suggest he has had his attention on the Corollary Matter for some time already.

Avrenne nods, and takes this as an Intention, adjusting her dress before she rises to a semi-elegant stand, just a little awkwardness from her pregnancy and what might be slightly worn out from exercises legs.

Siamus rises to offer Her Grace his hand as she rises, before resuming his seat and his Reniya Watch.

"Then, perhaps, Miss Lynds, you might accompany me for a proper tour of the house, to discuss where you might be most comfortable for yourself as lodgings, and we can finalize dates for starting. Our secretary Miss Curran should be back now, and we can begin the process of the writing of the contract for review." It sounds like a suggestion, but given the way she appears to be setting herself to start sweeping out of the room, it is really more like a Duchess Suggestion.

Tabiana gets to her feet, sending Reniya a look marked by only the slightest concern. Given her stoic inclinations, however, this means that there is likely a lot of concern, in reality, and a bit of guilt as well. "Yes, Your Grace," she says, following the duchess dutifully.

Reniya rises when the ladies do. He doesn't follow them, but he stands, at least, sitting back down in echo of Siamus.

At 2pm

Siamus smiles at Reniya; it is a narrow-eyed and not altogether friendly smile, that glint of private amusement back in his near-black gaze. He swirls his drink idly for a moment's watchful, smiling silence.

When at last he speaks, though, what he says is, "Where in Kul Tiras are ye from?"

"Boralus, t'the best of my recollection, Vice Admiral," Reniya says, seeming actually a little calmer now that the ladies have gone. "And yourself?"

Siamus leans forward to set his glass down on the table and rises leisurely to his feet. He crosses to contemplate the map above the fireplace, and after a moment reaches up to indicate the rocky eastern coastline of Stormsong. "Born just there," he says. "In Stormsong. Moved briefly to the northwestern edge of Tiragarde Sound, but in fact I spent most of my years in Boralus." He turns away from the map but remains standing at the fireplace. "At Proudmoore Academy, and wi'the Fleet. Greatest city in the world."

"An' now you're here," Reniya observes. "You miss it, then? I don't recall it well myself. 'Twas big, lots of water. As Tabby — uh, Tabiana — mentioned, I've been in Stormwind most of my life. Came while it was bein' rebuilt, and my folks decided to stay."

"We came to Stormwind around the same time, then," Siamus says, and waves a hand to indicate the… room? House? Estate? vaguely. "The Stormwind title was a grant to my father for our service in the liberation of the city in the Second War. But we were dual citizens, and still in service wi'the Fleet, so we were there at least as much as here."

He returns to take his seat again. "And aye. I miss it."

Now he sits forward to rest his elbows on his knees; it's a disconcertingly casual posture from a man dressed like the Vice Admiral is, sitting in the room he's sitting in, drinking liquor as expensive as he's drinking.

"Hartrim," he says. "I confess I revised my initial impression of your behavior in the matter when I was informed you've only had the news yourself from this morning." He regards Reniya steadily. "That doesn't absolve ye of natural responsibility, of course, but it… reframes, shall we say, both certain silences on your part and the fact that ye were willing to accompany the lady here at all. I'm not sure how much credit it merits, but I'll grant ye a measure."

"I took great care not to end up in this position," Reniya says, staring into his whiskey glass. "An' yet somehow, I got here anyway. That's on me, no matter what she has t'say about it. I kept my mouth shut, because my interferin' in her business is what got us here t'start with. She's a strong lass, an' I'll be fully honest here, I've got no idea what I'm s'posed to do."

Siamus nods and sits back. "Bearing in mind that ye don't know what you're supposed to do — which we can approach in a minute — and also acknowledging that any final decisions in the matter will rest wi'the lady, I'll ask ye… What do ye want to do?

"And as I said to Miss Lynds as well, I'd appreciate ye speak frankly to me; mannerly evasions only waste both of our time. If ye want to marry the lady, say so; if ye want to get fuck-off drunk and disappear to Booty Bay until next year, say so. We can't sort anything out decently if we don't know our starting premises."

"I never wanted children," Reniya says, "and I recognize those same words from my father's own mouth, though I don't know his reasons. He gave up his desires for my mother's sake, just as she gave up hers for his. Some folks find that beautiful. To me it's terrifying. Any argument they have, they'll throw their sacrifices back in the others' face, an' you just know they've grown bitter for it. I'm happy to pay supports for the kid, visit the kid, an' I'm even happy to teach the kid a thing or two. It's all the talk of marriage an' contracts that scares me."

Siamus sits with this for a time, thoughtful, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. At last he says, “My own parents had… a similar situation. Perhaps not quite the same. I don’t believe anyone’s parents fuck them up in precisely the same way.” He pauses. The slight, sardonic smile reappears. “Ye will pardon my language, I’m sure. The ladies are no longer present, and I’m a sailor.”

He leans forward again, elbows on knees. “I don’t know why anyone would find the thing ye describe beautiful. It sounds to me the opposite. A good marriage is a partnership between people wi’shared values and ambitions, prepared to support each other’s aims. I was years looking for a lady of the Duchess’ quality — long enough in the looking and not finding that I’d formed a fair clear picture of what I was looking for and what I wouldn’t settle for. Her Grace and I were a meeting of the minds from our first introduction, and I negotiated our engagement within the month.”

He tilts his head thoughtfully. “… it might have been a fortnight. I don’t recall.” He shrugs. “Was it a love match? Absolutely not. For people in our position, that’s a frivolous concern. Marriage is a partnership; love is available cheaply elsewhere.

“As to a contract — there’s nothing in a contract ought to frighten ye. A contract protects you and your partner both. A contract requires that before anyone makes any vows, ye sit down together and each lay out expressly what ye want and expect from your relationship, business or personal; it also sets terms for whether and how ye can cut loose if it goes sour. If either your parents or mine had made a contract, they’d be better off for it today, I promise ye. Some people believe it's cold-blooded, but if ye respect or care for your partner, ye should want them protected as much as yourself.

“What ye saw just now in our negotiations wi’ Miss Lynds was, ye understand, for the protection of herself and your child, so that she has a clear expectation of what’s required of her and what’s owed to her, and so that Fallon can’t take advantage in future. The lady came in here prepared to write off her own value entirely, offering the moon to people she barely knows in exchange for crumbs. I’m afraid the Duchess and I have too much principle to abuse her low opinion of herself, and if I sounded sharp with her at any point, it was in hopes she’ll think closer about offers she makes in the future; there are plenty of people who’d be only too happy to accept an arrangement binding the lady and her descendants to do whatever was asked of them and still be turned out into the streets without recourse whenever the other party pleased.

“That is the point of a contract. It’s not a magic to bind people to their word, but it sets out rules from the first, and it gives ye recourse by law if the other party breaks them. And two persons negotiating a betrothal contract can specifically adjust the conventional understanding of marriage to better suit their private happiness; ye understand each other’s expectations clearly, and ye make your own terms to fit.”

Siamus sits back again. “If ye don’t want to marry, then don’t. It doesn’t seem a necessity to the lady at present — you understand that if it was, there’d be no help for ye — and you and I both know ye can’t forge a happy partnership out of obligation rather than respect. The lady doesn’t deserve that any more than you do. Nor does the child, as ye know to your sorrow.

“If ye don’t want children, though, I’m afraid I can’t help ye there. That ship’s weighed anchor, and you’re aboard. I’m glad to hear you'll own that responsibility and shoulder your share of it. Negotiating a contract is, again, to protect the rights and interests of all three of ye.” Siamus watches Reniya steadily again. “I think we can both agree that the child’s rights and interests, at the very least, deserve protection.”

“I’m well glad someone was here t’set ‘er straight,” Reniya says seriously. “The way I came into this was her pleadin’ with me to keep my mouth shut like her life depended on it. Listenin’ to her today was… I can see she’s made it her life’s duty to protect, even at her own expense. Tides, she’s even tryin’ to protect me. But if there’s one thing I really ought t’thank yourself and the Duchess for, it’s for givin’ the kiddo a way out. Freedom’s… important to me, and if there’s goin’ to be a child of my blood runnin’ around, I’d… rather they have a choice in their future.

“Now, don’t take me wrong, I’m not disagreein’ with this whole arrangement — in truth I think the kiddo’ll have more here than I ever had, an’ I truly hope it works, for Tabiana’s sake an’ yours — but, on the off chance somethin’ in them pulls another way… I s’pose that’s what you mean by contracts to protect.”

Siamus nods. "Neither the Duchess nor I is in favor of seeing anyone's freedom curtailed, or a child's future foreclosed."

He gets to his feet again restlessly to bring his glass to the sideboard again. As he tops up his drink he says, apropos of nothing, "I joined Proudmoore's Fleet when I was eight years old. Served in the Second War myself, aged nine and ten."

He returns to the sitting area with his glass and the decanter, and gestures wordlessly with the latter at Reniya's glass. "And where d'ye see yourself in all of this, then?"

He does not appear to have further comment on his naval career.

Reniya drains his glass again, and holds it out for Siamus. "Eight," he says, surprise in his voice. "Eight's young for a war. 'Tis the age I was forbidden from goin' near the ocean, myself." He pauses, one hand stroking over his mustache. "If I said none of this feels real t'me yet, is that an answer you'd accept? Hard t'see myself anyplace, when I barely register as here."

Siamus pauses momentarily, almost imperceptibly — a slight hitch in his movement — in the act of pouring Reniya's drink at the words forbidden from goin' near the ocean. He finishes pouring and goes back to his chair, setting the decanter on the table between them. "I have only within the last year come to understand, aye, that many people consider it irresponsible to take an eight-year-old to war," he says dryly. He's studying Ren again in that sharp-eyed dark way of his. "Also a strange age to attempt to take the entire sea away from a child. Any age would be, in truth."

He tips his glass back and forth idly. "And aye, ye may say that. I told ye: you may say anything that's honest. Ye found out a matter of hours ago that you're to be a father, and it seems ye certainly didn't plan to be." He has a sip of his drink. "If ye will accept unsolicited advice from a stranger, I'd suggest that as your precautionary measures seem less-than-optimally precautionary, ye might keep your business to men in future. Fewer complications."

He rests his glass on the arm of his chair. "But now here y'are, and as ye never hoped to be a father, no plan whatsoever, aye?"

"It didn't work, for the record," Reniya says, a glimmer of humor in his eyes. "I still frequent the harbor, and I have a little boat of my own."

He has a drink, though it is more of a sip this time, compared to his earlier glass clearing gulps. "Your advice is noted, and I'll admit that this time in particular there was less preparation that went into the beforehand. Neither of us expected an apology to turn into… what it did. Don't s'pose you're speakin' from experience, yourself? You're right in thinkin' I've got no plan. That doesn't mean a plan's not forthcoming, but nothing yet, aye."

"Speaking from experience… with men? I'm a sailor, and I went to boarding school. What d'you think?" Siamus's gaze over the edge of his glass is deeply amused. When he lowers the glass again he says dryly, "And not a one of them wi' child yet. I won't ask what ye were apologizing to the lady for — I am guessing that you were the one apologizing? — but I expect ye owe her another one now."

He rests his glass on the chair's arm again. "I believe ye will have a plan, aye. Circumstances require. If ye wish to review your options or the particulars of any plan, I'm glad to help. The matter of the child's future is, as ye know, now relevant to House Fallon. Which makes you, to some degree, relevant to House Fallon."

That is either a very friendly-sounding threat or a very threatening offer of friendship.

A smile plays at Reniya's lips. "Speakin' from experience that women have extra complications, but good t'know all the same. Aye, it was my apology, but I won't get into it out of respect for the lass's privacy. I'll be apologizing a lot harder now that I know babies are so… violent."

He leans back, now fully relaxed. "You're not askin' me to live here, I hope," he says. "Awful commute to Stormwind from here."

"Miserable commute," Siamus agrees. "Better if ye sail it, up the coast to the Harbor. What sort of boat have ye got? And no, by the way, that was not an invitation to live here. I'm not sure how many rooms we've got left. The Duchess would know." It kind of sounds like that's his only reservation as to Reniya's taking up residence: he's lost count of his guest rooms.

"I should warn ye now, though," he says, abruptly more serious, "that it is… a violence of sorts that ye put her through. The bearing's uncomfortable and the birthing's hell." He looks away, tips his glass idly again. "The Duchess labored near thirty-six hours with our first, and I spent every minute of the last thirty either drinking or praying." He continues to gaze at the wall a moment, and then looks sharply back to Ren. "And the Duchess is a lady who wants to bear, and planned for it. Miss Lynds did not. You didn't plan for it either, but I assure ye that as stunned as ye feel right now? You're still in for a hell of a lot less misery. So when I ask ye about plans, about responsibility, that's why. The thing ye've done to the lady is a hard and a dangerous one for her, and that ye didn't mean to do it matters not at all.

"I'm not telling ye this to make ye feel guilty — though I'm not sorry to make ye feel guilty, either — but because, while offering a part of your salary or to teach the child swordplay or the like is all well and good, what she's going to need over the next months isn't an apology, it's your support. It's your responsibility, for at least the next nine months, to do what ye can to make the lady's life as easy as possible."

He sips his drink and then adds dryly, "Of course, if she tells ye that what would make her life easy is for ye to fuck off into the sea, well. Then that's what ye do."

Reniya takes that in, quietly taking drink after drink until his glass is empty again. He stares into the glass until it looks like he might have become frozen there, then, finally, lifts his eyes to meet Siamus's. "What if she lies? About what she needs?"

Siamus considers this. "Am I to infer from the question — and from what I saw of her today — that the young lady is inclined to martyrdom or an excess of self-sufficiency?"

"Aye, that and, I mentioned before, I think she's protectin' me," Reniya says.

Siamus raises his eyebrows. "Protecting you. D'ye need protection, Hartrim? From… yourself in general?" — this seems very possible — "From consequence? Or from something more specific?"

Reniya flashes a grin at the first suggestion. "Aye, some might say I need protectin' from myself," he says. The smile vanishes as he continues. "But no, I mean, the lass knows I don't want to be married. It's like she's tryin'ta rescue me from responsibility."

Siamus rests his head back against the armchair and laughs. "That strikes me a misguided notion. It seems to me you're a man grown, Hartrim, and can be expected to make your own way. Aye? A man's measured by his responsibilities, not his lack of 'em. D'ye tell her so?"

"I wasn't fully clear on what she intended, coming here," Reniya admits. "Might've done more objecting beforehand if I'd known." He shakes his head. "I was… protectin' her from something before, and she didn't take too well to how it was handled. Could be that's coloring her view of how I might deal with this."

Siamus rests his elbow on the arm of the chair and props his head. "And what were ye protecting her from, exactly, and how did ye handle it that ended — assuming I am following this story correctly — with her in a female condition?" He has a sip of his drink. "Ye don't need to tell me, obviously; ye don't know me from Thoradin. But it strikes me that there have been some missteps here, and it's possible ye want an unbiased navigator to help ye retrace your course."

Reniya is silent for a moment, perhaps working out a way to avoid full context. "Due to a… situation I won't speak on — lass's privacy — I put myself into an arrangement where I allowed a number of other lasses to vent their anger on me physically, on a nightly basis. I kept it secret for some time, but was eventually found out."

Siamus lifts his head from his hand and stares at Reniya. This was… not a thing he was expecting.

"I… see," he says at last. He might be seeing it vividly. "And mind ye, I have no desire to cross the lady's particular privacy, and I respect that ye have a care for it yourself. If there's no more ye can say without — bringing her business into it, I understand." He has another sip of his drink. "But you're certain this arrangement was… somehow on the lady's behalf. Rather than… a recreational decision ye made for yourself.

"Be honest, Hartrim. Because I confess I can see how she might have questions as to your judgement."

"The deal I made was for them to leave off 'er, and they could vent on me in exchange," Reniya says. "It did work, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't also enjoy it."

Siamus smiles broadly and sits back. "I see." Yeah, he does. "In which case I'm not sure where the sin lies, as it seems everyone benefited by the arrangement. But never mind it. I'm afraid I'm not sure that proves useful after all for correcting your course, but it's certainly information. It could be that it's your private business that needs more respecting. Or circumspection, on your part."

"Oi, that's what I tried tellin' 'er, but she wasn't havin' it," Reniya says. "My mates even squeezed it outa me when they noticed the bruisin' after a completely unrelated injury, and got mad about it."

Siamus raises his eyebrows. Man, this is such a good story. He leans forward to top his drink up again from the decanter on the table. "Well, I hardly see what business your private life is to your 'mates,' although if ye make a practice of leaving injuries untended I can understand a general concern. Speaking of responsibility, as we are."

"Aye, that was… part of the arrangement," Reniya says. "That I not seek healing for it. Think that's what got 'er?"

Siamus sits back and gives Reniya an Eyebrow. "Aye," he says, perhaps a little sardonically. "That would be where the problem lies, then. Are ye not a Guard? I can tell ye if a man of mine made a practice of turning up for his watches injured, he'd been handed shore leave until he'd decided to be a man his crewmates could depend on. And if he didn't take the lesson, he'd be handed his papers."

He gestures with his glass. "If you're going to be making arrangements, you're going to have to be clearer on your own terms. Aye? If ye want people to run roughshod over ye privately, that's one thing. If they insist ye let them do it publicly, ye need to learn to negotiate better. What ye do behind doors is one thing, but if it bleeds over into a professional life where people are relying on ye — well, your colleagues didn't ask to be joined in your private arrangements unconsenting, did they?"

"Oi, it wasn't interferin' with anything," Reniya objects. "I had it handled just fine. Nobody could even tell, as proof of that. Anyway, I already apologized and put a stop to it. Not sure it was for th'best, but that's where we're at."

"The thing is," Siamus observes, "if I want to know whether a man is handling a thing 'just fine,' it's not the man himself I'm going to ask, is it? Not just the man himself, that is. Because I assure ye every man in the world is 'just fine' all the time. I confess to being guilty of it as well, which is part of how I know it. And if I want to know whether a thing is interfering with his work, it's not him I'm going to ask at all, because he wouldn't be doing the thing if he thought it was, would he?"

He studies Ren. "I begin see where the questions regarding your judgement arise."

Reniya studies him right back. "If y'really wanted to ask a person other than myself," he says, "I'm told you're familiar with Lathrik Dinnsfield. We've known each other for years, and work together on the regular. He'd know even better than ol' Tabby Cat what did and did not interfere with my work." Oops, he relaxed enough that the nickname slipped.

"Dinnsfield?" Siamus raises his eyebrows. "Aye, I know the man. A passing acquaintance, mind. From the Morningdew case, and then later when your Miss Lynds and a few of us collected him out of Hillsbrad. I suppose I might ask him, were it officially my business." He tips his glass from side-to-side. "But it's not, officially. I'm not your commander or your colleague, only an interested bystander."

Interested in more than one sense, maybe.

"Though I suppose it could be argued that the fitness of the Guard is an issue that concerns the House of Nobles, tangentially. Seems fair tangential, though."

He does not remark on any dropped nicknames.

"Oi, don't go bringin' the House of Nobles into this, we've had enough trouble with…" Reniya stops. Blinks. Is he allowed to mention that?

Oh ho, but now he has. It is visible, the way Siamus's whole attention sharpens like a shark scenting blood in the water.

Still, his manner remains bland as he continues to tip his glass and asks, "Trouble wi' the House? I'd not heard it mentioned. I assume it's not business for the House floor, then?" Only his eyes are darkly intent.

"It ain't the whole House, only one of 'em," Reniya says, after a small hesitation. "For some reason Count Amerith's taken an interest in ol' Lathrik and far as I know, we're still not clear on why."

"Amerith?" Siamus leans forward; he's genuinely startled. "The man's perfectly mad, of course — I usually leave him to Her Grace to manage. I was guessing, to be honest, that trouble with a House member would mean Lescovar."

He frowns and sits back slowly. "Interested in Dinnsfield? What sort of trouble has the Count been making?"

"He had a lass — goes by the name Ilanya Ravendusk — watching him at bars," Reniya says. "I heard he even paid Lathrik a personal visit, but I wasn't there at the time."

Siamus smooths an end of his moustache thoughtfully, his brows knit. "So — interested, aye. Which is… odd. But so's most of what Amerith does. Ye don't have an idea what he visited about? Have ye talked to the Ravendusk lass?"

"There was… not so much talkin' going on as there was licking," Reniya says, helpfully. "She thought she was licking Lathrik, o'course."

Siamus lowers his glass slowly to the arm of his chair again, staring at Reniya.

"That," he says at last, "only… raises more questions, I'm afraid."

"There's a potion," Reniya says, leaning forward eagerly. "One that can make you look like someone else for a time. So I took one of those and pretended to be Lathrik. At a bar. Now, I don't think she's interested in him — not like that, anyway — just playin'. She's a playful sorta lass. But she's the one who told us Count Amerith was interested."

Siamus has leaned forward too, reflexively, ready to be caught up in this bizarre tale of Count Amerith's surveillance lass who licks people, with bonus magic potions plus Reniya, who is like four kinds of bonus in and of himself. "And she told… you, whom she thought to be Dinnsfield, that Amerith was interested? Or she told… several of ye? How many of ye are there in all of this? And did she tell ye about his interest before or after the licking? Mention what the interest pertained to? Why were ye pretending to be Dinnsfield in a bar?"

"Right, so she didn't tell me directly, she told Natalyah — she's Lathrik's girl, though she wasn't at the time — and Natalyah told me while I was leadin' 'er to Lathrik's house to retrieve her lost cane… I guess Natalyah sorta moved in that same day? Tabby Cat knows all this too, then my mate, Elle, and somehow Peril Farrens is wrapped up in it, don't ask me why." Reniya does not mention Hana, maybe for her own protection. "I was pretendin' to be Lathrik in a bar so we could see why she was interested in him. I uh. Didn't get anything useful. The licking was well after we knew about the interest."

"You were pretending… so that ye could see… why couldn't Dinnsfield just… do that himself? As himself? And so if the licking was well after, then, how long has she been surveilling Dinnsfield, and how early in the surveillance did she tell ye that's what she was about? And… wait, Peril Farrens? Isn't he the… with the tabloid?"

This is all amazing. It gets more amazing with approximately every fourth word out of Reniya's mouth. Siamus is taking mental notes so fast and intently that the scratch of his mental pencil is practically audible.

"See, by the time the licking happened, Natalyah was Lathrik's girl, and she wouldn'ta been too pleased with 'im if he'd let some other lass lick 'im," Reniya says. "I dunno how long Ilanya'd been watchin' ol' Lathrik, he'd be able to tell you better. Quite a while, seems like. And yes, that Peril Farrens. Azerothian Interest, it's called. Apparently he's a friend of Natalyah's."

"So, all right… ye disguised yourself as Dinnsfield because ye… knew in advance that the lass was going to lick ye? Which would have upset this… Natalyah, if it was really Dinnsfield? So the point of the illusion was… getting licked? Is Farrens writing about all of this, or — how is he involved, exactly, beyond being a friend of Dinnsfield's lass?" Siamus looks like he needs popcorn instead of whiskey, and possibly a bulletin board and some red string.

"Lathrik had some rumors about 'im," Reniya says, a little slower than his previously eager cadence, "'Twas said that, while he'd go out and flirt with the ladies, take 'em home and such, he never… satisfied 'em. Apparently Ilanya caught wind of that, and wanted to see for herself, and that's how we knew she was gonna make a move on 'im. Now, Natalyah found out that Peril had a huge crush on Ilanya, and she wanted to prove to him that Ilanya wasn't for him, and that, I think, is where he fits in."

Siamus sits back again slowly. He remembers the glass in his hand, and drains the rest of his drink all at once. "So this Ilanya lass… was watching Dinnsfield for Amerith? Or just… testing him out for herself? And Farrens was already acquainted with Ilanya, to have a… 'crush' on her? Does he know Amerith? I feel like I need… a chronology. Of all of this." Siamus rubs his forehead, and then gestures with his empty glass. "But the crux of it is… you're certain that Amerith has an interest in Dinnsfield for some reason? And has been having the man watched?"

He does not comment on any rumors about Lathrik.

"There was a… House Ravendusk that sprang up from nowhere over a year past," Reniya says, trying to start from the very beginning. "The Lady of it — we only knew of 'er as Lady Ravendusk, and she wasn't noble, actually — always wore a mask about, coverin' her eyes, like the kind you might see at those fancy parties nobles sometimes do. She had a maid — that'd be Ilanya — who was out in public a lot, an' I guess Peril thought she was pretty. She is pretty, by the way. A year ago, on this very day, Lady Ravendusk was assassinated, and Count Amerith took 'er maids into his service."

Reniya sits back. Yep, that explains absolutely everything. "The lass was doin' both, maybe? Watchin' for the Count and her own curiosity?"

"A lady in a mask," Siamus muses, frowning a little. "A lady… Amerith had a masked lady on his arm last year, during the campaign. She came to the gala. Our wedding, too, perhaps? Ta noted it. She's… assassinated? Why didn't I hear anything of tha— this very day, ye say?" Siamus tilts his head as though listening to a distant sound. "It was also…. Hm."

He smooths his moustache again idly, frowning at nothing in particular. "Ravendusk. October the second. And Amerith's — hm."

Reniya nods. "Aye, see? Now you're gettin' it. And Lathrik was assigned to the death knight. They're… mates now, I guess."

"Aye," says Siamus absently. "How we first met. Dinnsfield and I. I was here last year on October the second. Ended up staying another three months to see that trial through. Hang on."

He gets up and moves around his chair, leaving the sitting area for one of the reading tables further back. He opens a drawer, rifles it to produce paper and a pencil, and begins making actual notes in a sharp hand. "Ye tell Dinnsfield I may be calling on him, aye? Not — I'll be aboard ship again tomorrow. But back with her on a week or so after. I'll want to — where does the man live?" He never stops writing, nor looks up.

"Old Town," Reniya answers, dutifully giving him the address. What could go wrong?

Siamus nods and, presumably, jots it down among the rest. He straightens, reading over what he's written. "All right. So, aye, I'll be summoned back to the Lady Blanche tomorrow, but bringing her straight home from there. A week, perhaps. Ye let Dinnsfield know, aye?" He looks up from his notes to Reniya, and folds the paper up to tuck it into his pocket.

"Aye," Reniya says, the grin spreading back across his face. "I'll tell 'im. Now, I believe you asked about my boat?"

Siamus raises his eyebrows and smiles to match Ren's. "I did, aye." He returns to take his seat with relish.

Speaking of boats, the Ladyship of the House appears at the doorway of the library, sweeping into the room, her hands coming to a clasp over her belly. She brings with her that chilly wind, the frigid Duchess with her composed civility and sharp eyes. "Vice Admiral. Mr. Hatrim. The paperwork has been assembled. It needs only a final review by you Vice Admiral, and a signing by all parties if we are satisfied with the wording. Miss Lynds will be taking up residence in the Blue Suite on November 1st. If everything here has been settled to satisfaction, it's ten to 3pm," she says, information presented.

Siamus's smile is wiped away immediately. He's not looking forward to 3 PM. "Aye," he says regretfully, and casts a look of apology at Ren. He starts to say something to the other man, and then is struck by a thought. "… I was telling Hartrim earlier that I've no idea if we've other guest rooms free. The man and I were hoping to talk boats."

It's not a euphemism. Well it might be only a partial euphemism.

Avrenne's brows lift, as her eyes flick from Siamus to Reniya and back. Her expression is unreadable in the controlled lines of her face. "The Compass Room is open for the foreseeable future," she offers neutrally. Just like he said, the Duchess does know which rooms are and are not taken. And look, this one is even on theme. It couldn't possibly be a joke, could it? No, no, surely not. This is a Very Serious Duchess.

Siamus makes a there you have it gesture at Avrenne for Reniya's benefit. Ta da! The Duchess Knows. "So there's a room for ye after all, Hartrim. Ye stay or ye come back sometime after I'm back, and I'll hear about your boat, aye? I do apologize but I've another meeting at three."

"Naw, it's alright," Reniya says, getting to his feet. "I could always bring 'er by and you can have a look in person."

Siamus's gaze lights with genuine enthusiasm. "Aye, do. Ye do that. Don't go all the way down to Fallon Harbor — we've a little mooring right here below the house, at the beach."

He moves across to where Reniya sits and offers his hand. "A pleasure talking with ye, Hartrim. I'll hope to see ye soon."

Continued in RATED A...

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Flowers Meanings:

• Lemon Geranium: Unexpected Meeting
• Black Hollyhock: Ambition. Fecundity.
• Myrtle: Love. Home. Duty.
• Gladiolus : Generosity. (This is the teapot Avrenne usually has out when she intends to be doing someone a favor)
• Blue Pansy: Devotion. Honesty. Loyalty.
• Hellebore: We shall overcome scandal and slander.