(2024-10-24) A Story, A Drink, An Invitation

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Author:	inkie
Summary:	Vice Admiral Fallon invites Miss Coit to hear a very peculiar story, and request that she arrange an interview. They discuss mysterious whispers and their sources.
Rating:	T for Teen

Arc: The Red String Game

At dinner on October the 24th, a distracted-seeming Vice Admiral requested politely that Miss Coit join him in his study after dinner, no reason offered; he engaged the Duchess shortly thereafter in a peculiar conversation about Stormwind silversmiths and custom tableware.

After dinner, he retreats as usual to his office, and by the time Miss Coit arrives, he is seated behind his desk, slumped casually in his chair, staring at an array of papers arranged with uncharacteristic complexity on his desk. Most wear his distinctive, spiky penmanship, but some are covered densely in what might be higher math, except any mathematician could tell you they are effectively nonsense. Some papers are layered over one another like cards in a Solitaire game; some are spaced at random by themselves, and some are in a slightly untidy — which for Siamus means very untidy — stack. One has been folded into an origami whale and rests atop the stack like a paperweight.

(Unclear whether this one is actually relevant to anything or merely a symptom of distraction.)

Lena approaches him a little warily, her eyes traveling over the scattered papers, clearly trying to figure out the patterns and meanings. This is Vice Admiral Fallon, there must be patterns and meanings. If there are, it's certainly not easy to figure out at a glance.

"You asked to see me, sir?" Lena asks politely, pausing to stand in front of the desk. "Has something happened?"

"I have no idea," says Siamus, still staring at the papers, and then he blinks himself back to reality and looks up at Lena. "Miss Coit. Yes. Something — aye, will ye sit?" He indicates a chair with a gesture as he gets to his feet. "I've a simple enough request, but it comes attached to a very long story, and I don't know how much of that ye want or need. Either way, we'll both want a drink."

Lena raises an eyebrow, but sits in the chair and pulls it up closer to the desk. Some instinct tells her she's probably going to need to look at some of these papers. "I usually like a story, and a drink, and there's a fair amount I'd be willing to do at request. What is this all about?"

Siamus moves to the sideboard to unstop a decanter and pour into two glasses there. He brings these back to the desk and sets one down in front of Lena before returning to his seat. "D'ye remember the 2nd of October, last year?"

"Last year," Lena says, her brow drawing down in thought. "What happened in October of last year… I think that was around when Roper sought me out, so I wouldn't get startled to see him unexpected if he was working with you. Which means it was around when you started working with death knights… which means… oh, Harvey and the killings in Stormwind? Is this about that?"

Siamus raises his eyebrows. "Aye," he says. "Well-remembered." It's only a little bit patronizing, since he did ask her himself whether she remembered. "Several things happened then, all to do with — at the heart of it — the Kaela Mondragon business. As best we all knew, anyway. But it's hard to say exactly how certain of what went on was connected to Mondragon, and it seems that certain things have… continued, despite her end. That is… not in the same way, mind ye, but someone keeps plucking at the same strings."

"So someone's been messing with death knights?" Lena asks, uncertain. "Or is Ralaea in danger again?"

"Someone's been… 'messing with' — d'ye recall Lathrik Dinnsfield?" Siamus consults one of the papers on the desk in front of him as though he couldn't remember the man's name off the top of his head. This is wildly unlikely.

"I don't think I've met anyone by that name," Lena says, glancing at the same paper as Siamus. "Is this not connected to Ralaea and Harvey?"

"It is," Siamus says. "Dinnsfield was Morningdew's court-appointed guard. Spent — obviously — a great deal of time with him. Became acquainted with Ralaea, with us to an extent, became… friends of a sort with Morningdew, I'm given to understand."

"Okay, so someone's hassling folk who are friends of death knights," Lena concludes. She looks up at Siamus to see if that's accurate. "Or is it just this Dinnsfield fellow personally?"

"It's Dinnsfield personally. And more. It's — are ye familiar with Lord Lester Amerith? Count Amerith? On the House of Nobles?" Siamus has a sip of his drink, watching Lena.

"The name sounds vaguely familiar? I might've read it in a newspaper or something like that. Folk are hassling him too?" Lena takes a sip of her own drink while she waits for more information.

"No," says Siamus. He lifts a paper from the desk, starts to lean forward to hand it to Lena, and then realizes it's one of the ones written in his personal mathematical shorthand or code. He sets it down again and picks up the annotated diagram of names instead to offer her. "He's hassling — in a manner of speaking — Dinnsfield. And, gradually, people connected with Dinnsfield. But he has a plain interest in the Mondragon business generally. One of Mondragon's former people is working for him now, and allegedly he has Mondragon's own armor on display in his home. He was also responsible for delivery of the cannon to Voldrune last year. I don't know if ye remember that business, but it was when Mondragon abducted Ralaea's brother along with Miss Halveris, and Cobalt went in with some Argents and some Ebons to rescue them."

"That seems ominous, keeping the armor. I hope it's not whispering to him. Or maybe he's just the sort to keep a trophy, though it wasn't him as killed her," Lena says as she examines the web. "I don't know most of these people, aside from Rae and Harvey and Kaela Mondragon. …Oh, wait, Alysson, that's the redheaded fella who was at Naxxramas with Cobalt? And Almeiria Fey."

Siamus puts his elbows on the desk and regards Lena intently. "Almeiria Fey, aye. Ye know her. She has some… history with Ralaea I was not aware of. She's also entangled somehow with Amerith. On October 2nd last year when all of this business was unfolding, a noblewoman — an imposter, but one Amerith had been squiring about everywhere, including to our charity gala — was assassinated, and Amerith himself attacked.

"The false noblewoman, we now have reason to believe, was Miss Fey. Who is currently a houseguest of Count Amerith. There was an alleged assassination attempt against her at his house not long ago."

"She was pretending to be a noblewoman?" Lena asks, raising an eyebrow. "Somehow I'm not surprised. I don't really know all her history with Rae, but it got her on the wrong side of Ben. For the past… maybe half-a-year?… she'd been trying to unburn that bridge, and to join Cobalt. Said she was interested in making sure Azeroth didn't get destroyed, and Cobalt seemed the best place to work on that. She did eventually get in, of course, as you know from Vashj'ir."

There is some slight, indescribable shift in the mask of Siamus' expression at the mention of Ben's anger on Rae's behalf. He nods, though. "Aye," he says mildly. "I requested her for — well, it wasn't to be for Vashj'ir at the time. I requested her based on my experience with her from Icecrown. But I begin to wonder what sort of lady I've endorsed, and how she came to be so tangled in all of this.

"In addition to being Amerith's… friend, colleague, mistress, whatever she is, and the mysterious 'Lady Ravendusk' allegedly assassinated last year when the murders occurred, she was also a key witness in Morningdew's trial. So she — like Amerith, or with Amerith, I can't say — is plainly entangled in the thing."

Lena nods. "I've no idea about any of those entanglements, but I did endorse her to you, too, for Icecrown. That was based on her tryin' to mend things with Ben and also fighting with her at Naxxramas. That and because she wanted to fight Scarlets for her own reasons, I think, though I didn't pry what they were exactly. She did well at Vashj'ir, though, didn't she? We weren't wrong?"

"She did well at Vashj'ir," concedes Siamus. "Although I understand there was some… complication wi'the final mission into the Plane of Water wi'the squad. But she did well. I am curious, though — I think understandably — as to her apparent entanglement in all of this… Mondragon-Morningdew-Amerith business, and I'd like words with her. Would ye say you're on good enough terms that she'd come at your invitation?

"I'm also curious as to your view of the lady, as I think you're a fair shrewd judge of character, and I wonder why ye say you're 'not surprised' she pretended to be a noblewoman." He sits back with his drink and regards Lena steadily.

"I think she would," Lena says, resting her own hand on her glass. "I'm not Cobalt any longer, but I am still on good terms with all the leadership — I don't think she'd cross me without a lot of cause. As for the judging of character, she's… odd. Maybe she's so used to people not being on her side that she doesn't come at things straight? Like with Ben, in the end I think she just wanted to prove she could be a good ally. But she tried to do it with this fake, sugary kindness that honestly made us all a bit wary. So yes, if there was something she wanted from a noble person, even if it was totally innocent and she could've just asked, I wouldn't be surprised to hear she'd made a whole theater out of it."

"'A whole theater,'" Siamus repeats thoughtfully. "I'm afraid I've never much appreciated the theater, myself. What d'ye mean when ye say she's used to people 'not being on her side'? Is she a lady with enemies?"

"I don't suppose I really know all that much about her history or what enemies she might have," Lena says, narrowing her eyes in thought. "It's more just a sense of her, and how she acts toward folk. Maybe it's just that I recognize a bit of that playacting — it's part of what a person does when they're used to not being able to rely on people." Lena pauses. "What did happen in Vashj'ir? Some sort of problem at the end?"

"I couldn't tell ye what exactly," says Siamus. "Only that she was with the team all along, and then withdrew from the operation just before they were to breach the Abyssal Maw. Cobalt had another agent in the area who was able to stand in. I didn't press the matter — not really my place — and for all I know the lady could have been… ill, or the like." Siamus says this in the dubious tone of a man who cannot imagine being too sick to work.

Lena frowns thoughtfully. "There was an Old God down there, and her a shadow priestess. We never went so deep, but did you ever hear it whispering? It's a thing I dealt with in Northrend, though a different Old God — I heard they killed it in Ulduar. Could've been something to do with that," Lena shrugs, " Or maybe she caught cold, I couldn't say."

"I was aware of the Old God, naturally, but no, I don't believe I heard it myself. It might have been difficult —" He cuts off abruptly and stares into space as though at an urgent signal in the distance. A moment later he tries again, but this time he is speaking slowly, thoughtfully, as if to himself. "I wouldn't have thought it, but it might have been difficult to differentiate such whispers from… what I hear in the sea ordinarily. I wouldn't have — but they're insidious, aren't they? The Old Gods. They're insidious."

"Yes…" Lena says slowly, her brow creasing as she studies his expression. "I can tell you the sorts of things Yogg-Saron and the faceless whispered to me. But… what do you hear ordinarily? What did you hear when we were under sea?"

"I hear," says Siamus, "the sea. Or I did. Heard. But she's not — it's difficult to explain to someone who's not — I can hear her but she doesn't speak, if that… makes sense? I could. Could hear her. It's — was a voice but not words." He's still staring into space, looking troubled now. "A voice, but not words." He drops his gaze to Lena, black and intent. "What did the Old Gods tell ye? When ye heard them? Did ye hear the one in the sea, what it sounded like?"

Lena looks at him curiously as he explains, but when she speaks it is to answer his questions for now, rather than bringing more of her own.

"I know from the others that it varies, but… it was always harping on more or less the same thing for me. These people aren't your friends. They'll turn on you. You ought to turn on them first," Lena clenches her glass and takes a swallow of whiskey. "It was enough like the demons that I… I assumed it was fel corruption at first, in the saronite gully. I pretended I didn't hear anything till it was clear Rae and the others heard it too. And then, in the Nerubian kingdom, it made me see them all… attacking me. Sir Atley and Paluuva and the others. It wasn't really them, but they were… real enough. They could hurt. That was less a voice, but it was in my head. And then in Icecrown, there was one the Scourge had imprisoned, tentacle fella. There was a sense like… he tried to make us feel like he was on our side, but I was having none of it by then. He got to Rae and Mordecai, but we made sure they were alright after. Under the sea, I never heard any words, but it is a different Old God and maybe I never got too close. There was still a bit of feeling though, uneasiness on the edge of thought. The sense in stillness that there were words said I couldn't hear. So long's I didn't hear them, I figured it was fine."

Siamus sits back slowly, staring at Lena. "'The sense in stillness… words said I couldn't hear,'" he repeats. He shakes his head wonderingly. "That's — how ye say that, Miss Coit. That's the sense of the sea. At least, it was mine."

His brows draw down and he studies her. "I'm sorry. For the things they said or showed to ye. For how they… played on that."

Lena waves one hand, brushing that aside. "A lot of things are clever in the world, and not all of them mean well. In any case, that's why I didn't answer the call to fight the Nightmare. I don't listen to voices in my own head, not ever, no matter who they say they are."

Then she looks down at the amber liquid in her glass, and then back up at Siamus. "If my sense of the Old God is like you heard the sea…" Lena hesitates and then says, "You didn't hear it, when we were in Vashj'ir?"

Siamus watches her for a moment in silence, and then nods and lifts his glass for a drink.

He sets the glass on the desk and addresses it, his brows still knit. "I did — I confess I heard something like, aye. I mentioned it to Avrenne at the time. I'd half-thought… I'd hoped, perhaps, in the time since, that it was the sea-sense, or an old echo of it. But, of course. Insidious." He shakes his head heavily at the glass.

"I can't tell you for sure what it is that's in your own head," Lena says apologetically. "Could be it was the sea. Or could be its something more insidious. I'd just… be careful? Be wary of influence, and keep an eye on if you feel influenced toward a thing that's not in your nature."

Siamus nods wearily and presses his fingertips to his brow for a moment, grimacing. "Aye, of course. Obliged to ye, Miss Coit."

He picks his glass up again and drains it. When he sets it down, he asks in an abrupt change of subject, "How are the sailing lessons going?"

"Oh, well enough, I think?" Lena says automatically, clearly startled by the change in subject. Then she takes another sip of her own whiskey and for a moment she smiles down at the glass — a quiet, private kind of smile. Looking up, she adds, "I think Shine's not disappointed with how I'm coming along. As a sailor. Unless he's said something different to you?"

Siamus smiles his own faint smile; for once, it lacks that sardonic edge. "Not at all," he says. "The man speaks of ye in the most glowing terms."

"Oh?" Lena says, raising an eyebrow with a quick flash of wariness in her gaze. "I'm happy to hear it, then. I expect I'll be doubly useful, next time we're all to sea. Though I admit I'm enjoying the chance to be here, while we've got it. To see the folk who don't come with us."

"Aye," agrees Siamus. "I never thought to be a man content ashore, but I tell ye I find there's more and more to miss about home when I'm asea these days. It's a pleasant place to be." His crooked smile fades a little. "I may be somewhat less to sea myself, in the next months. There are the children coming, but there's also the work before the House of Nobles — the building of the navy, the kingdom's military and financial crises. Which I'm better placed to do more about from a House seat than the helm of a ship."

"I've not much sense of what a person could do about crises of that sort, but the building of the navy, yes," Lena nods, her expression clouding over a little. "Will the Lady Blanche sail without you then?"

"The Blanche is my ship," Siamus says. "I have her helm, and if I don't sail, she won't. Now, mind ye — she won't be making sea-crossings, or joining the fleet in military actions. But the House is proposing new tariffs to make up budget shortfalls and I expect we'll see the coast infested wi' smugglers again before long. And there's something afoot in Stranglethorn — I expect to hold back a handful of ships to blockade and patrol the coasts again, and the Blanche will be one of those. They won't be proper voyages, only patrols of a few days here and there, but I'll be up to that much. If ye prefer to go wi' one of the others, away wi' the fleet, I can put ye aboard your pick, naturally. There's a half-dozen Fallon captains at least who would vie for ye."

Lena lets out a low, relieved breath, and shakes her head at Siamus, smiling. "No, no, I'm happy to stay on the Blanche. It's just… I can't quite imagine the ship without you as a captain, so I'm glad to hear I won't have to. As for Stranglethorn, that's where May and the others dealt with all the pirates, right? I suppose they've always got problems of that sort." Then she pauses and adds hastily, "Of course, if you think I'm better used elsewhere, I'll go wherever I'm told."

Siamus smiles briefly but warmly at her. "Now, I mean to hire several more warlocks if I can, to furnish the rest of the fleet wi' them, but I confess I'd be loath myself to see ye parted from the Blanche, and I look forward to seeing ye give the pirates and trolls something to think about. And I trust ye won't mind my saying that I find your skills and expertise valuable ashore as well as asea."

"I think the other sailors would likely appreciate that, long's you get the right warlocks, and WEB can help there," Lena says with a nod. "And aye, I've got some experience in Stranglethorn myself, with the trolls, back a few years ago. If we end up with trouble ashore of that variety, I reckon I'd be useful. And… well, I mean, summoning folk here and such, as well — I admit that's come in handy a few times lately. Like with Lord Kyris." And the tidal wave, she doesn't say.

"And the tidal wave," Siamus says, because he does that. "Aye. We have good reason to appreciate ye, and I hope ye feel that we do. In any event — that's the state of affairs for the next little while, aye."

He reaches for his glass, realizes it's empty, and lowers his hand to rest it on the desktop instead. "Will ye see about getting Miss Fey here to speak wi' me, meanwhile?"

"Of course, straightaway," Lena says with a smile. She looks at her own glass, which is not empty. That won't do. She takes it and tips back the rest of the whiskey — there isn't much — and sets the glass down with a faint shiver. "I'll go write to her now. Anything else, sir?"

Siamus surveys the paper puzzle spread across his desk and a shadow of ill-disguised weariness falls over him. He glances up and smiles faintly, tiredly again at Lena. "No, thank ye kindly, Miss Coit. That's all."