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| Details |
| Author: | Alli |
| Summary: | Eulysses brings his elder sister Robin to the Fallon estate to meet his employer, Siamus. War and business and the future prospects of both are discussed. ~3700 words. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
It's a chill February afternoon with a weak winter sun in a clear blue sky, when a well-appointed carriage rolls up to Fallon House from the direction of Stormwind. The horses stamp and huff nervously as the carriage draws to a stop. There is no clear danger at the moment, but not all the horses of Stormwind are accustomed to casual proximity to predators yet, as Gilneas has only returned to the Alliance less than a year ago.
These particular Gilnean visitors are expected — they are here on business. Within the carriage, one of them appears to be a small, prim human woman in a practical green business dress, her brown hair pulled back into a no-nonsense bun and a briefcase resting at her side.
A groom — a wiry, squint-eyed, black-haired man in an incongruously neat uniform and polished boots — detaches himself from the gatehouse to approach the horses and carriage-driver. At the same time, the front door of the manor house opens, and a man in footman's livery hurries down the steps. He is a big man, just over six feet tall, and alarmingly broad across the shoulders. His head is shaved, and his black cutaway coat, midnight blue waistcoat, and white collar and neckcloth are impeccable.
He opens the door to the carriage, offers a crisp bow, and steps back to allow the occupants to exit.
At the front door, a second man in a flawless butler's uniform has materialized to await the visitors. Did I say the footman was large? Because this guy is large. He might be a vrykul. He might be seven feet tall. (He's not.) He is also shave-headed, and he waits with expressionless patience, his white-gloved hands clasped.
Following close behind the small human woman is a worgen man. He is dressed in a fine Gilnean style suit and as he stretches up to stand straight he reveals himself to be an alarming eight feet tall. His dark grey coat shimmers in the sun and he swivels his head from side to side, sniffing his surroundings and betraying the bestial nature behind what would otherwise appear a gentleman in wolf's clothing. Eulysses nods to the groom, "Thank you." He hands the man a few coins for his trouble.
The wiry little groom squints at the coins in startlement. He pockets them, touches his forehead respectfully, and says something unintelligible in a Kul Tiran accent you could cut with a cheese knife.
At the door, the gigantic butler bows courteously at their approach. "Miss Reeve. Lieutenant Reeve. The Admiral is in his office; I'll show you up." His accent is smoothly Stormwindian, with only a trace of Kul Tiran salt in the breadth of his vowels.
"Thank you, kindly," Miss Reeve says, and her own accent is clearly Gilnean, even if it lacks the melodic lilt characteristic of the lower class. "And what a lovely home! We appreciate the invitation, I'm sure."
She'll be more sure after the conversation, probably.
Eulysses bows lightly himself, "Thank you. We are grateful he was able to make time for us today." His own accent is similarly Gilnean. He gestures forward for Robin to take the lead.
The butler escorts them up the left-hand wing of the broad double staircase — past the portrait of a gaunt, icy-looking woman in a dark blue dress, who appears to be staring visitors down coldly — into the carpeted, silk-wallpapered hallway above. He turns left, and pauses before the last door at the corner to touch a knuckle to it in the barest hint of a knock.
"Enter," calls a voice that is at least familiar to Eulysses. The butler opens the door to admit the Reeves.
The walls of the room are wood-paneled to match the parquet flooring, the wallpaper above the wainscoting a subtly-striped dark blue. The color is something of a theme: There are layered blue carpets on the floor, a pair of dark blue armchairs before a heavy walnut desk, and a pair of blue settees facing one another before a fireplace on the far wall. That wall is itself completely papered in maps, some of them formally framed, some of them tattered and heavily annotated and tacked up casually. One of them appears to be a map… of the moon?
From behind the walnut desk, Admiral Fallon rises to come around and greet his guests. He looks every bit the immaculate gentleman today in a navy blue suit and dove-gray waistcoat, save that his ash-gray cravat is slightly askew, and the tumble of his wavy dark hair suggests there has been some kind of Wind Incident here in the office. Or perhaps he's just been running a hand through it absently and quite a lot.
"Reeve," he says warmly. "A pleasure to see ye. And this is your lady sister?" He turns a gleaming, dark-eyed gaze on Miss Reeve, wearing the slightest, sardonic curve of a smile.
Robin Amadella Reeve does her level best not to gawk at the room and embarrass her brother. She tries to keep her gaze on Admiral Fallon, though it flickers occasionally to the furniture and the wall of maps. Still, her expression is cool and polite as she gives the appropriate curtsy, giving Eulysses time to make introductions.
Eulysses gives Siamus a quick salute, "Aye sir, she is." He steps to the side to introduce her, "Admiral, this is my older sister, Robin Amadella. Robin, this is Admiral Siamus Fallon. I am pleased that you are finally able to meet."
"I've heard so much about you," Robin says, a touch of fondness coming into her eyes as she glances to her little brother, definitely the source of such information. "It is a pleasure to meet you here. I hope Tony has been living up to your expectations in the fleet?" Her tone and the slight raise of her eyebrows indicates that she also hopes this question is basically rhetorical.
"Miss Reeve, I assure ye it's my pleasure entirely." Siamus offers a gallant half-bow to her and slides another gleaming look up and down her person. "And I expect ye hardly need inquire regarding your brother; Reeve is naturally a fine seaman and has been an invaluable addition to the fleet in more ways than one. I look forward to seeing what flotsam he and the Achillea will make of Hellscream's lot off Tol Barad shortly." He turns a conspiratorial smile on Eulysses. Bloodthirsty, much?
Then he steps back to usher the pair farther in. "Please, will ye make yourselves comfortable? Tea? Something stronger?"
Eulysses makes his way towards a seat, "Tea if you would be so kind." He leads Robin along to continue the conversation.
Robin moves over to take a seat as well, raising an eyebrow slightly at Siamus's gaze. She sets the briefcase by her feet as she sits, and says, "Yes, tea would be appreciated. And I should clarify, to prevent any misunderstanding — I am a worgen, just like my brother. I assure you no misdirection is intended. I've simply found that this form often serves best for business and other things of that nature."
Siamus nods to Vane — that means tea, apparently — and the enormous butler vanishes on silent cat feet. Siamus leaves the door ajar and moves to settle across from the Reeves. "Ye needn't worry, Miss Reeve, I assure ye. Three of my close associates at the moment are worgen, all of whom prefer to conduct business — and some social — affairs in human form. I wouldn't consider it a misdirection, any more than I'd find myself prejudiced against a gentleman such as your brother, who is more comfortable otherwise." He nods respectfully to Eulysses.
Eulysses returns the nod. He keeps his eyes fixed on Siamus, a bit wary of the looks he's been giving his sister, but if it's genuinely bothering him he doesn't show it.
"That's certainly reassuring to hear," Robin says with a nod. "Especially as the majority of my associates are worgen as well. I expect Tony's told you about our family's fleet?"
"That he has, aye. Which is what I'd hoped to speak to ye on. Not to jump past the niceties, but perhaps we can take the niceties as read — what's the current state of your fleet?" Siamus arches an eyebrow, settling back in his seat for Boat Business Talk.
"The Reeve fleet is not what it once was," Robin says with obvious reluctance, but then she continues with, "which is not to say it will not grow once again, now that we're beyond the fetters of that damned Wall and back among our allies. Currently, I have four ships, two of them for cargo."
Siamus nods somberly. "I'm sorry to hear of your losses. Hardly a fleet in the kingdoms is what it once was since the Shattering came for all; you'll find most Alliance captains can empathize. Tell me, can ye manage passenger transport? And if so, how many?"
"Ah, passengers," Robin says, switching tacks. "In the Peregrine, yes. I have only the one clipper right now, suitable for passengers, but it could hold approximately one hundred and ten. Do you have need of ships for transport somewhere…?"
Eulysses sits and swivels his ears as he listens to the two of them attentively.
"I do. Well, a friend of mine does, and I've promised to make the arrangements. I've other contacts in shipping, but I like to support a worgen-owned business and, as it happens, this particular job seems ideal. Are ye familiar with the Blasted Lands?" Siamus regards Robin mildly.
"The Blasted Lands?" Her thin eyebrows go up again. "Is this an expedition to Outland? I've heard of the lands, of course, but I've had little reason to sail there."
Eulysses shifts in his seat, "I must admit that I am rather interested in what these plans are as well, sir."
Siamus nods at Eulysses. To Robin, he says, "No, not to Outland. I expect ye've heard of some of the efforts being made by your people — 'harvest witches,' druids and whatnot — to reclaim damaged lands in the face of the present refugee crisis? As ye've — "
The door opens and a maid in a prim, midnight-blue dress and a starched white apron and cap enters with a tea trolley. She sets out plates of tiny sandwiches and delicate almond flour cookies and apricot-filled pastry crescents between the Reeves and the Admiral, and then she takes up a teapot and looks inquiringly — and a little meekly — at Robin. "Cream and sugar?" she asks in the gentlest whisper.
"Oh, yes, sugar, please," Robin says with an encouraging smile, clearly a little surprised at the quiet voice.
The maid pours tea, drops in two lumps of sugar, and offers it to Robin with a dainty silver spoon tucked alongside the cup on its saucer. Cup and saucer themselves are both of white porcelain with a pattern of blue waves and ships. There is a theme, here.
The maid looks to Eulysses. "Lieutenant?" she asks in the same soft whisper.
“I’ll take mine neat, thank you.” Eulysses replies in his low, gravely voice. The softness of his tone seems to have possibly had the opposite of the intended effect in this case.
The maid pours Eulysses a cup of plain, black tea and brings it to him before returning to her trolley and pouring one of the same for the Admiral, without asking. He accepts it from her with a smile. "Thank ye, Tanis," he tells her kindly.
She bobs a little curtsey and departs.
Siamus turns back to the other two. "Where were we?"
"Reclaiming damaged lands," Robin prompts with a faint smile. "And our druids and harvest witches. I must tell you, I'm neither."
"Oh aye, that. And no, no, I'm aware." Siamus smiles crookedly at her. "I've a good friend, Rhenardt — Lord Graves. Ye know him, Reeve, aye?" He looks at Eulysses.
“We’ve been acquainted, yes, though I must admit I do not know the man well.” Eulysses answers.
Siamus nods and waves a hand at Reeve in a sort of conclusory, There you have it gesture. "Well, the man's been doing a fair bit of… liaising, politically. Came to me a little while ago because he's been approached by a druid — a Marl Wormthorn — who's proposing to rehabilitate the southern coast of the Blasted Lands. Means to establish a proper town there, has settlers already lined up eager to go. 'Surwich,' they're going to call it." He pauses.
"Now, getting across the Blasted Lands to the southern coast overland is… well, ye can imagine what a bloody nightmare. So this Wormthorn and his people are hoping to get there by sea, up from Booty Bay or the like. Graves came to me looking for the shipping, but I don't take passengers of late; all my lasses are for the war. But I recalled that Reeve had mentioned a family fleet, and so I thought — " He waves a hand again and has a sip of his tea.
"A worgen-owned ship carrying worgen settlers off to reclaim hostile land in the name of the Alliance — it would be a noble thing. And also, I daresay, some fine publicity, aye?" He lifts a sardonic brow again.
Eulysses nods and looks at Robin, “A fine opportunity.”
Robin exchanges a glance with Eulysses and nods slowly. "I have been looking for ways to raise the reputation and general knowledge of the Reeve fleet, so this sounds like a promising endeavor. Do you know how many settlers? That is, whether it will be one trip or many? Though, I suppose they will also need supplies to start up in such an inhospitable land."
She levels a keen, calculating gaze at Siamus. "What would be the role of House Fallon in the venture? Or is it simply a matter of facilitating connections?"
Siamus shrugs a shoulder genially. "Connections are currency in themselves, aren't they? I'm a businessman as well as a military one. As a military man, I believe welcoming the worgen and seeing them integrated wi'the Alliance is in our best interest." He nods toward Eulysses. "And as a businessman, I know that the worgen bring wi'them all manner of new ventures and opportunities, and when the time comes to find a partner or investor, perhaps they'll remember who had their interests at heart from the first." He flashes Robin a roguish smile.
Robin gives a more careful, but friendly, smile back. "Indeed, and I can assure you that I am not one to forget a friendly gesture. Perhaps the two of you can direct me to Lord Graves, to talk further of logistics. And…" she drops one hand to her briefcase, "…as you are navy, I thought you might be interested in the exact specifications of the Reeve fleet, in case of future opportunities that might arise."
"I would be very interested, aye. And what sort of opportunities would ye be looking for yourself? More passenger business along these lines? Cargo? Are ye in the market for new ships or have any ye want to sell?" Siamus raises his eyebrows.
"Passenger, cargo…" Robin says with a nod. "I thought we might contract with the military if needed, for movement of supplies and men. There is precedent, and my people and I are loyal members of the Alliance." She does not make further comment about the loyalty of recent mercenary ships the Alliance may have contracted.
"I am not intending to sell any ships, but as for buying or, possibly, building… well, as I mentioned, the fleet is much reduced from the numbers it boasted only a few years ago. I cannot control war or natural disasters, but the Reeve fleet has braved both and is still here," Robin glances again at her brother, and then back to Siamus. "I am confident that we will rebuild, in time."
Siamus nods courteously. "Additional cargo capacity is something the navy could do with now, I expect. We've still not made up our vessel losses from the Shattering, and near every ship we have at present is dedicated to combat or to moving personnel. I can have someone from procurement get in touch with ye."
"I appreciate the consideration, and I hope we'll be of service," Robin says, straightening and taking a sip of tea. "Speaking of the ships you have at present, though, do you know when the Achillea will be dispatched to Tol Barad?"
Sorry, Eulysses. Elder sisters meddle sometimes.
Eulysses adjusts himself in his seat, "I have full confidence in the crew of the ship. We only await your orders, sir." He says plainly but confidently.
Siamus nods to Eulysses. "Aye. And your Captain Breen and Captain Comstock of the Westwatch will have gotten notice just this morning that Achillea and Westwatch will be sailing wi' the early tide out of Menethil in two days' time, after provisioning, to make for the isle. The Westwatch will be patrolling the western waters for Horde supply ships, but the Achillea will be dropping anchor near Largo's Overlook, and ye'll join the fight. You're relieving the Lion's Grace."
A glimmer shows in Eulysses’ eye and he bares his fangs a little despite himself, “Yes sir.” He growls in anticipation.
Robin nods, satisfied, and then something else occurs to her and she looks to Siamus with some concern. "You've had no further problems with kraken en route, have you? I've heard rumors, but I haven't had any clear report of what exactly transpired."
Siamus smiles a little sadly. "No," he says, "no further trouble. The poor beast had been corrupted to madness by the naga queen and her Twilight allies. It was freed by the mercenary company who drove the naga from the Plane of Water, and retreated to the Abyss. No trouble since."
"Well, that is good news for the safety of our men, my brother included," Robin says, her lips moving in a faint smile as she notes his sympathy. "And for the creature itself, poor soul, and the Plane of Water. Goodness, mercenaries do a lot these days. I assume the naga queen is still at large, but as that's been the case for quite some time, there's likely no cause for immediate alarm."
"All the same, we have been training for such an event." Eulysses speaks up, "If one of those monsters decides to return we will be ready for it."
Siamus regards Eulysses a moment in silence and then nods mildly. "Aye. Fallon ships can handle what comes."
"Well," Robin says, and then takes another sip of tea, her sharp eyes darting from Siamus to Eulysses. "I would hate to keep you overlong, Admiral, but should you like to talk further about my ships, or to see them for yourself, I would be happy to oblige."
"I'd be very glad to see them sometime. What are they called, your ladies?" Siamus smiles at Robin.
Robin's expression softens with fondness, and for a moment it might look like she's about to pull out wallet photos… of her ships. Then she pulls herself back to an expression of polite efficiency, though a trace of the feeling is still in her words as she says, "The cargo are Sable and Ilston, and the clipper is Peregrine. I've a frigate for defense as well, the Nightshade, which is the one I'm aboard most often."
Siamus's smile warms. "Lovely. And I've a Kestrel in common with your Peregrine, and your brother's own ship and her sister both plants like your Nightshade, though only the Aconite is poisonous. Aconite's the scientific name for wolfsbane."
Robin laughs, a brief bell-like sound, and glances back over to Eulysses before responding, "I thank you, then, for his assignment to the Achillea. I try not to be a superstitious woman…" though she is a sailor, "…but I would not like to tempt fate by setting my only remaining family to wolfsbane at this point in time."
Eulysses grunts with amusement, “Yet another strange coincidence. I served as first officer aboard one of our own ships named Wolfsbane during the civil war.” He flashes Robin a quick look, “Though I agree that we not tempt fate. Besides, it would be better for my mind to not be elsewhere while sailing.”
Siamus's brows go up. "Is that so? A Wolfsbane? That is a hell of a coincidence." He pauses and smiles wryly. "In more than one way, I suppose." To Robin, he says, "I don't mind telling ye that I'm no superstitious man myself" — false — "but the name may have been a factor in why your brother got Achillea and not Aconite." He turns the smile on Eulysses. "I don't imagine yarrow is similarly awkward."
Robin shakes her head slightly, and adds, "I've no particular association with the plant, myself."
There’s the faintest of glimmers in Eulysses’ eye at Siamus’ comment, “No sir. I cannot say I am a superstitious man myself either.” Debatable “Though I imagine I would feel more comfortable finding a command on a ship with a different name.”
Look at these three non-superstitious people, discussing how the name of a ship might be discomforting.
"Perhaps one day there will be a ship Mandragora or Moonleaf that you might earn a promotion to captain," Robin says, with a faint quirk of a smile briefly on her lips. To Siamus, she explains, "They're a few of the flowers that were beneficial for our mental state, after the feral years."
"Ah," says Siamus, genuinely pleased. He sets his teacup down and reaches into the pocket of his suit coat for a small notebook and the stub of a much-sharpened pencil, and jots a note. He glances up again with a smile as he tucks notebook and pencil away once more. "A useful thing to know, for when we've a crew or more of worgen in the fleet."
"That would be a fine sight, aye." Eulysses takes a sip of his tea, fighting the urge to lap at it with his tongue.
Robin takes her last sip of tea, a faint smile on her face. "A crew or more of worgen. I certainly hope for such a future as well - with our people safely incorporated into the Alliance."
Siamus picks his own teacup up again and salutes the Reeve siblings with it. "A future we all will hope for."