(2025-07-10) A Meeting of Minds

Details

Author:	inkie
Summary:	En route to Bladefist Bay, Admiral Fallon hosts a handful of Cobalt Company engineers to talk shop over dinner.
Rating:	T for Teen

At the sternmost end of the ship, through the wardroom and past the cabins of the other officers, a whitewashed door opens into the Captain's quarters.

This space is far more generous than the other living quarters aboard, which is not to say it would be considered a generous room on land, but it is a room that has multiple furnishings and space enough to walk around them. (Two of those furnishings happen to be cannons, one to either side of the door just inside the entrance, but we can overlook those for now.) The cabin runs the full beam — that is to say, width — of the ship, and the entire space is brightened by actual windows: a whole row of them set in the stern.

Against the far wall beneath that row of windows are a heavy wooden desk and chair; a number of brass nautical instruments are arranged with precise care atop the otherwise-immaculate desk. Standing on the floor to the left of the desk is what appears to be a brass globe on a pedestal. Closer inspection will reveal it is not a globe of the planet's surface but a celestial globe. On the floor to the desk's right is a wooden cask holding a number of rolled-up charts.

Against the cabin wall to the left is a bed built in to a sort of wooden cubby; it is only partially and politely revealed at the moment, a curtain drawn most of the way across it. Against the wall to the right are a brass-bound sea chest, a polished walnut sideboard, and a basin and shaving stand.

At the center of the room, bolted to the floor directly through a handsome blue-and-gold carpet, is a heavy walnut table with six chairs arranged around it.

Admiral Fallon in his dress uniform — absent the hat, naturally — is standing at the cabin's far end gazing out the windows above the desk.

Arric is the first to arrive, naturally, showing absolutely no embarrassment about it. He's put on his best clothes, which are fine indeed, but they were clearly packed away in a trunk. Without his household staff to take care of such things there are obvious fold marks here and there marring the otherwise impeccable tailoring.

"I"ve never seen quarters like this before," he says mildly by way of greeting. "You've rather turned three or four rooms into one, haven't you?"

Siamus turns back with a smile. "Aye, well. It's a captain's life. Can hardly claim three or four rooms when I've officers and crew to accommodate as well. To be honest, I'm well accustomed to it; there's always a bit of adjustment ashore to how bloody vast everything in a house seems. Ye look very well, Falrevere, thanks for joining." He approaches to offer out his hand.

Arric takes the hand warmly. "Kind of you to say, but my suit is a disaster. I'm not accustomed to wearing things right after unpacking them."

"We none of us have a valet here," Siamus tells him genially. "Have a seat, if ye like. Wine?"

Dinner with the ship's Captain is always a formal affair, and so Arthur takes the time to shave so closely he looks like his chin hasn't figured out how to sprout whiskers yet. Pulled free of the clasp he usually keeps his hair back with, his gone prematurely white hair has a bit of a wave, and it's cut in a way to make it more like a mane. His boots are polished, his trousers are tailored, the tabard is silken and perfectly pressed. The goggles are stowed on his belt; he carries the sketchbook.

Anyone in arm's reach: he even smells good. Arthur Reeves cleans up real nice.

"Here I am," he announces on entering. "Ah! Lord Falrevere! You beat me to it." It's time for handshakes and grins.

Arric delightely shakes Art's hand, then seats himself as the Admiral requested. "I'll have whatever you're drinking, Fallon," he says.

"I'm inclined to follow your lead, Admiral," Arthur says as he crosses the floor to shake his hand. "I would also like what you're having."

Siamus shakes Art's hand and gives him a warmly approving once-over. (He does let go of his hand this time, though.) "Have a seat yourself, then, Reeves, and I'll get the bottle. We await the ladies for the meal, but no harm in a drink first."

Arthur considers the seating, and picks the chair that means that the ladies won't be clumped off to one side, leaving the seat at the captain's hand for Jo and another prime choice for Miss Knockfathom. "I've been bothering anyone on crew who will stand still, figuring how it all works. I'm going to learn about the sails all tomorrow, and navigation. I'm determined to pick the brains of everyone who keeps the Lady running."

Siamus laughs as he goes to the sideboard. "We'll make a sailor of ye, then. That's how Miss Coit began her learning, and ye'd never know now she hadn't been splicing rope and climbing rigging since childhood days. Ye won't find a better Master than Burl Pascoe, either, for the navigation."

He takes a bottle of red wine and some glasses from the cupboard and returns to the table; the glasses are not stemmed wineglasses but heavy-bottomed glass tumblers. "It's claret," he tells them as he pours. "Sturdier than it is refined, but that's sea living most of the time, aye?"

"I'm sure it's good," Arthur says. "is it a blend, or just the one grape?"

"A blend," Siamus tells him, and offers tumblers to Arric and then Art. "Tirisfal, twelve years." (That is slightly fancier than his original deprecating implication.) "It's not an Aspenwood, but it will serve."

He pours a third glass for himself, sets the bottle on the table, and picks his glass up. "Cheers, aye? To students and scientists."

"To students and scientists," Arthur echoes, raising his glass. He sips, and his eyebrows go up. When he sets the glass down he's still tasting for a moment before smiling. "If that's what you call sturdy…"

There's a light knock on the door that seems to be coming from somewhere relatively low, as Jocoza arrives.

Siamus rounds the table to open the door himself — as it is doubtless one of the Ladies and Ladies cannot be relied upon to open their own doors — and ushers Jo in with a smile and a slight bow. "Captain Sparkwire, welcome. Will ye have some wine?"

"Oh, sure, thanks!" Jo says brightly, with a kind of bow-curtsy. She's wearing her mage battle robes, which might be the nicest thing she's brought on this journey. Her hair is in its tidy buns — she might have done them up just prior to dinner to prevent the wind from making it into chaos. She looks around cheerfully at Arthur and Arric and moves towards the seats at the table. "Thanks for inviting us all here. I mean, Cobalt on this trip. And tonight."

"Thank ye for accepting both invitations," Siamus says. "May I offer ye a book?" He gestures at a chair.

He means to sit on. He has had Gnomish guests before.

"Oh, because of the oversized chairs, right," Jo nods. She's used to this, too. "If you don't mind, that'd be helpful."

Siamus nods courteously. He crosses to the same sideboard the wine is kept in — apparently it is both liquor cabinet and bookcase, very efficient — and produces a heavy tome of natural history a few inches thick. He brings this over and arranges it on the chair for Jo, then offers her a hand up like a gentleman accustomed to tiny guests.

Jo accepts the hand with a warm smile and takes her seat on the tome, her legs dangling off the floor. She glances around at the space curiously, and says, "Thank you. You have a lovely cabin."

"Very kind," Siamus tells her, and goes back to the sideboard for a fourth glass. "Home away from home." He pours her a human-sized serving of red wine. She might be tiny but she is a guest.

Arric beams delightedly at the new arrival. He does, however, glance at the amount of wine Siamus has poured her with slight concern. He has done some drinking with gnomes before, perhaps.

Arthur grins and raises his glass. "Captain Jo. I was told the wine was sturdy rather than refined, but it's been understated. It's really quite nice."

"I'll have to admit I'm not sure how to tell the difference," Jo says, blushing faintly, as she tries a sip.

"As long as ye enjoy it, it will do," Siamus says. He's gone back to the sideboard yet again, this time for a fifth glass and a second book. This tome is a weighty leatherbound treatise on Admiralty law. He arranges it on an unoccupied chair in anticipation of Niksi's arrival, and sets the empty glass at her place before taking his own seat.

"Tell me, Reeves," he says, "what manner of engineering inspirations have ye been having aboard?"

“Well,” Arthur says, setting the heavy-bottomed tumbler down. “I don’t know enough to know if this will be useful, but it’s the sails. I’ve been up in the rigging to see how they’re fastened to the masts, and I’ve seen how they’re put at an angle to maximize speed and all. But what if there was a way to track where the ship is, based on calculating the wind speed and direction and the angle of the sails against each other? I’m sure the navigator could do it, but this meter would be faster, and if I could project it onto a globe—I don’t even know if it’s useful. But if you could look at the globe and see exactly where you are, longitudinally…” Arthur shrugs. “And latitude, but you can just look at the sky and reckon that.”

Arric looks at Art, at Siamus, back at Art, back at Siamus.

Siamus settles back in his chair, his brows knit. He has a sip of wine and considers Arthur's description. "Ye propose — to be clear, ye propose a device that would… read longitude from the wind and the angle of the sails? An anemometer, but… navigational, as well?"

“Yes! And I really don’t know if this will work but what if you could… connect it, say to a location in the keep? And if you can do that… I think it might be possible to teleport from the keep to the ship as well as from the ship to the keep.”

Arric sets down his wine glass and stares in astonishment. Close your mouth, Arric.

Siamus sets his glass down and folds his arms, shifting a little sideways in his chair. "Fascinating. Ye've been over the physics of the sails and the lift with Mr. Pascoe? Would the device ye propose be a conventionally-engineered meter of some manner, or arcane in some measure?"

“I think both,” Arthur says. “At least, to do all of it. The positioning could be done with radio and magnets, I think, but the use as a way to teleport—I’d have to ask Miss Whittle for more insight.”

"Gnomes have ways of teleporting using what appears to be pure engineering," Arric says. "But I've not yet advanced to the level that I can understand it, so it may be magic for all I know. They claim it's engineering, however."

Siamus nods seriously. "Radio and magnets. Interesting. Ye really must talk to Knockfathom when she's about. She developed a radio signal — aye, is that so?" He raises an eyebrow at Arric and then looks to Jocoza for confirmation.

"Yes, Niksi developed a way to communicate from the bottom of the ocean with really minimal tools," Jo raises her eyebrows and looks between the two of them. "If we're talking about the arcane, I'm afraid the telemancers will likely shut you down on two way teleportation with moving endpoints on Azeroth. The ley lines have been stressed enough by the Nexus War as it is. There are gnomish engineering approaches you could go with, but they lack… a certain amount of precision. There is the risk you'd appear, say, 500 yards away from the ship, or above it. Of course, you can negate that danger by the use of a parachute cloak and… hm…"

"Ah," says Siamus, tapping the side of his thumb idly on the table. "That does seem… less than ideal. It's why I engaged my warlock, did ye know, Reeves? Falrevere? Miss Coit? Ye've met the lady, I believe?"

"Lovely woman," Arric says approvingly.

Siamus nods agreement and lifts his glass to Arric.

"She was with Cobalt for a while," Jo adds, "I found her reliable. I think the idea with the location and the sails could be really interesting, though — is navigation a challenge in sailing? I imagine there's a lack of landmarks."

Siamus scoffs politely. "Navigation? No. A fine science. Trigonometry, y'understand, and astronomy — any clever man can learn it. But as Mr. Reeves described, to pin a precise location with speed, using radio or the like — " He lifts his glass for a sip and then lowers it again to smile sardonically. "I daresay there's more than one of these Stormwind captains could use such a thing." He salutes Art with his drink. "A clever idea, it is. Even without the teleportation — as I say, that's the manner of thing Miss Coit was first engaged for, and for my own part I'd be glad to see every ship in the fleet with a warlock to her crew. The summoning's a fine convenience."

"I can imagine the use," Jo nods, taking a very small sip of wine. "I mean, for the radio-defined location and speed, and for warlocks. It's always nice to see people willing to embrace both tinkering and magic."

Siamus nods. "I've always been a man for technology, myself. It was Tyrrell — Captain Tyrrell, of the 7th? Finest man ye could know — it was him put me on to the idea of warlocks aboard. And let me tell ye, mine's proved her weight in gold. Bloody heroine of the Icecrown sea." He has another sip of his wine and looks at Arric. "Falrevere — a gunsmith, ye said ye were? Rifles and the like? Have ye met Farleigh, my gunner?"

"I've not, yet! I've tried not to disturb the crew, I'm sure they're terribly busy. I've mostly just been doing my best not to be in the way, much as I love to be on deck. Does he have a particular time of day when he's at leisure and might enjoy having his ear talked off by an inlander?"

Siamus flashes a smile. "Ye go to talk wi'the man about guns, you're more likely he'll talk your ear off. Best if ye catch him around midday, but he won't mind ye anytime he's not training the lads. Unless ye'd like to see them running broadside drills, in which case any time at all's acceptable, and he'll be glad to show off his cannons and his crews together. But aye, the man's forgotten more about guns than I'll ever learn."

"Oh, stars," Arric replies avidly, "I might have to talk to him at midday and watch the drills if he's not decided he's had more than his fill of me by then. If he doesn't physically drive me off, by the end of this voyage I imagine he'll be able to paint me from memory if the urge strikes him."

"That's the spirit,” says Arthur. “You get the cannons, I'll keep chasing this positioning idea."

"I'm more than happy to leave the ingenious inventions to the likes of you, Mr. Reeves," Arric says with a laugh. "If it's not too impertinent, may I ask, do they truly call you 'Trouble', or is that just a bit of fiction to spice up the pages of the Cobalt Blade adventures?"

"They really do," Arthur says. "I'm fast as an abacus, but that's the problem, you see."

Arric laughs delightedly. "And I thought I had picked up an unfortunate nickname or two in my day! I think you wear it well, though; on you it's rather dashing."

Jo beams fondly at both Cobalt engineers.

Niksi lets herself in to the Captain's quarters, too distracted to knock. In her hands is a glass sphere with a brass casing. Within the sphere is a series of concentric rings, all spinning at different velocities. "Does anyone have a spare oscillation springjack? Mine is bent and this navigational gyroscope is going bonkers without one."

"I didn't bring my kit," Arthur confesses. "but I have some fine wire and a puller if you need it finer. You have to be Niksi! I'm Arthur."

Niksi looks up from her doodad and lifts her goggles to the top of her head. "I do have to be Niksi, don't I?" She grins and stretches a hand up toward Arthur in greeting. "You're Arthur! I recognize you from your posters."

Arthur shakes it in greeting. "I've heard you developed a communication system that works at depth. I am very curious about how you did it."

"Indeed! The S.P.U.R.T.! Small Proximity Undersea Receiver/Transmitter," Niksi explains proudly. "It had rather limited range, unfortunately. But with the assistance of a transmission relay buoy, it can conceivably be used for communication between land and the deep sea."

"So the signal goes from the submersible to the buoy, and then from the buoy to the reciever onboard? Does it have to convert the signal frequencies too? I don't know if there's a signal that works better underwater…"

Niksi grins at Arthur excitedly. "Yes, you've got it! The relay buoys have a signal converter built in. As do the onboard receivers, actually, as they're just a variation on the buoys. And presumably whoever is operating the receiver can perform manual conversions if necessary."

Arthur nods. "I had an idea but I think you're much closer to the answer than I am already. If we can take the time to talk about it while not keeping everyone from dinner?"

He nods to everyone else at the table. He did not forget that there's supposed to be a meal.

Niksi glances over at the others gathered as if noticing them for the first time. "Splendid idea. I'll show you my schematics after dinner, and maybe we can talk through your idea."

"Oh, I think this dinner is for chattering about these sorts of things," Jo says brightly. She was busy enjoying another sip of wine while Niksi and Arthur spoke, and now her cheeks are a little rosy. "I don't have one on-hand either — a springjack — but I could offer to have a look at yours? If it's only bent and not broken, I might be able to get it back into true."

Siamus has risen to his feet to lean across the table and pour wine into Niksi's designated glass. "By all means, the technical talk is welcome. It's why I've invited ye as a group. And never worry about delaying the dinner, Towson will be along now that everyone's here.

"I'd mentioned your radio signal communicator, Knockfathom, because Reeves here was musing on a potential position-reader using radio. And magnets, I believe? Attempting to determine a ship's longitude based on windspeed and direction and the set of the sails. That is — the latter in itself would be difficult, I expect, as a ship's rig is a complex and often subtle system, but if there were a way to gauge lift and pressure on the surface of, say, a mainsail, along with the windspeed and direction… " He settles back in his seat.

"But if you prefer to eat before a detailed discussion," Arric says with a warm smile toward Niksi, "I'm sure the rest of us can rattle on in the meantime. No shortage of words among the five of us. Pleasure to meet you, by the way. I'm Arric Falrevere — gunsmith, lenscrafter, hunter and tamer of various wild beasties. Only land beasties, though, alas." He gives her a wink.

"Falrevere's an islander like myself," Siamus says. "Very keen on gnomish work."

"That is the most complicated part of the math," Arthur agrees. "But I think that if you ensure the globe is calibrated, and then cast off, a series of calculators — signals, really — can be organized into sets that will activate magnets in the direction of travel at the speed of travel, so the dot on the globe is the ship's position. I thought a plumb weight, but that wouldn't work. But a tightly concentrated light, put through a lens? That wouldn't wiggle on a string."

"Mm, that would need to be a very precise curvature on the lens… maybe you could collaborate with Arric!" Jo smiles between them. "Arric, you mentioned lenscrafting as a specialty, right?"

"Ah yes," Arric says, his eyes lighting up. "Such delicate, exacting work — it's rather a specialty of mine."

Siamus smiles warmly at Arric.

Arthur is containing exuberance as best as he can. "I think we can do it. I really do."

"That's the spirit!" Arric says. "Boldness and confidence is the key to success in any endeavor."

Siamus leans forward to put his elbows on the table. "Have ye seen the binnacle on deck? That is — the helmsman's compass, set by the wheel? It's there, naturally, to read our bearing for the helm to a very fine degree. Could ye take a thing like it, preexisting, and build your positional indicator into it?"

Arthur lights up. "All along I was thinking that the globe model would need a compass. That's the heart of it. It has to include the binnacle, of course it does!"

Siamus grins and slaps a palm on the table. Eureka.

"If there's any connections you need," Jo offers. "Sympathetic magic, you know, like between one part and another — do let me know. I'd be happy to contribute. Or, of course, if there's any very small parts to machine or articulate. I have good hands for it." Jo holds up her tiny, four-fingered hands.

Arric gazes delightedly at the adorable little hands. He manages not to squee, by a narrow margin.

The cabin door opens and a short, pleasant-faced man in his late twenties or early thirties enters. He wears spectacles and silver earrings, and his ash brown hair is tied back in a sailor's queue. He is also wearing an apron over a blue-and-white striped shirt, and carrying a tureen with its hinged lid closed.

Behind him troop in four sailors with their hair braided or tied back beneath kerchiefs and, collectively, a slightly alarming number of tattoos. Two of them are bearing dishes and cutlery, and two others covered platters of food.

"Towson!" Siamus sits back again. "Brilliant."

"Sar," agrees the cook with a somewhat-bashful smile, avoiding the guests' gazes as his assistants begin circling the table to set plates and soup bowls and silverware before the various parties. The covered platters are set down, the tureen last, and then the sailors make haphazard knuckled salutes and file out, Towson at the back.

Siamus rises to his feet and offers a hand toward the bowl at Jo's place. "Soup, Captain Sparkwire?"

"Oh, thank you!" Jo says with a smile. "What kind of soup is it?"

"No idea," says Siamus cheerfully, and opens the tureen to inspect it. "Clear fish chowder," he amends. "With something green."

The "something green" does not seem to distress him. Siamus knows the green things Towson puts in food are generally harmless. (In this case, it is dill.)

Jo nods agreeably. "That sounds delicious!"

She is unconcerned about things that sound like vegetables. She might have been concerned if it was something orange or blue.

Siamus ladles soup into her bowl and returns it carefully to her. He also serves everyone else because we do not have to go through that individually, for the sake of the RP. You now have soup. The green stuff is harmless and tasty.

Arric smiles politely at the soup and makes very soup-eating type motions as people chat. The amount of soup in his bowl does not seem to diminish, particularly, over time.

Niksi sets the glass sphere on the table, keeping it steady with one finger. "I think we're working in parallel, Arthur. This oscillator is part of the navigation system I'm working on the for the DRUNK Mark III. But I don't see any reason it couldn't be scaled up for a larger vessel and integrated into your system. Here, take a look." She rolls the oscillator toward Arthur.

Arthur catches it and twists it around in one hand while enjoying the soup with the other. "I love a clear broth for fish. The flavor of it is next to alchemy—oh." He forgets to eat as he examines the oscillator. "This is basically what I imagined. This. Mine just needs the sail array attached, honestly. It's a modifcation of this."

Jo smiles happily, with the joy of seeing people connect ideas together.

Siamus, having enjoyed his excellent fish chowder because it was food of some kind and he eats that occasionally, sets his bowl aside and rises to lift the cover on one of the platters. Arric may be relieved to see that this is roast duck in some sort of plum sauce, rather than another variety of fish.

This is a rare occurrence, Arric. I hope you appreciate it.

Arric looks delighted by the appearance of a non-fish creature. "Is that plum sauce?" he says excitedly. "Bit of a weakness of mine. Pardon me if I overindulge."

Jo looks at the duck curiously. She may think it's a chicken, but she's delighted all the same.

"Oh, I've always wondered what this was like," Arthur says. "It's very appetizing looking."

Siamus, not responsible in any way for the food, smiles benevolently as he carves duck and serves it to people. The other platter proves to contain a hill of rice steamed with star anise and flecked with almonds. "Pass that around," Siamus suggests, and resumes his seat.

Despite his prophecy of overindulgence, and despite loading his plate generously with duck and rice, Arric still cuts his meat into very small bites and eats the rice virtually grain by grain. He is, however, at least making progress this time, unlike the soup bowl.

Jo cheerfully accepts some of the fragrant rice and passes it around to the others.

"What would ye say is your specialty, Reeves?" Siamus asks Arthur as he cuts his duck. That is not a euphemism but I can't stop making it look like one, help. "Instrumentation? Signals? The arcane?"

"In engineering? Contraptions," Arthur says. "I like anything that involves conditions. If this, then that. Blending arcane magic with engineering is a joy, but it can limit wider use."

Siamus's gaze lights. "Conditions, aye. Sufficiency, necessity… are ye of the Gnomish school, then?"

Jo looks over with a smile, but waits for Arthur's answer.

"Oh yes. I found Gnomish engineering so interesting, there was really no question. it's a bit of everything, whereas goblins specialize."

Siamus nods approvingly and raises his glass to Art.

Art raises his in turn, grinning.

"Oh absolutely," says Jo, who is not biased at all. "Goblins have an unfortunate tendency to cut corners and skip safety protocols. Gnomes always make sure that the level of risk in any contraption is reasonable." For a gnomish definition of reasonable.

"Those rocket boots were really fun, though," Arthur confesses.

"I will tell ye one goblin contraption I've a fondness for," Siamus confides as though admitting to something unseemly. "The mekgineer's chopper."

"Goals, honestly," Arthur agrees. "I'm determined to build one."

"Okay, I'll give you a pass on liking that one," Jo says with a giggle, taking another little sip of wine. "I haven't made a chopper before, but then I do have my mechanostrider. If you like transports, though, I should show you my flying machine. I don't think any of you have seen it?"

"I've always admired gnomish ingenuity," Arric says amiably. "Ever since I was a boy. It was an easy decision for me."

Siamus salutes Arric with his glass as well. "You and Ta," he says, and shakes his head fondly. To Jo he says, "I have not, Captain, but I'd be very pleased to."

Arric smiles warmly at You and Ta. Yes, them! He likes that there's a them!

"I haven't brought it on the ship this time, naturally. I don't think it would've fit in my allotted luggage," Jo says very seriously, like that point was something she considered. "But when we're back in the Eastern Kingdoms. And then there's the glider…" a kind of gently sad expression crosses her face for a moment. "That's not so great for travel necessarily, but for recreational purposes."

Niksi perks, "I'm very fond of transports, myself. The DRUNK Mark III is almost operational! This one will be a bit more capable in a combat situation, as per the Admiral's recommendation."

"An absolutely brilliant invention. Research and salvage vessel, capable of withstanding pressure at a remarkable depth — to my mind a vessel far superior to the standard Alliance submersible, by which I mean no offense to the creators of that." Siamus raises his fork (and a bite of duck) toward Niksi in a kind of salute that is slightly less typical than a wine-glass salute. "If Knockfathom's willing, any of ye with an interest ought to go and see the thing while you're aboard."

"Oh, I'd love to!" Jo claps her hands in delight, her eyes bright with tipsiness. Her glass is still mostly full. "That sounds several steps ahead of the Pincer series."

Arric smiles fondly at the tipsy Cobalt Company captain. While she is distracted, he tries to trade her mostly-full glass for his mostly-empty one.

Siamus, not distracted, blinks at him.

Arric smiles at Siamus, unbothered.

Niksi dips her head gratefully to Siamus's praise. "To be fair, the Pincer is a large transport. The DRUNK is a small-scale exploratory vessel. It just isn't capable of moving entire units or large equipment." She pauses a beat before adding smugly, "But if you do want to see superior technology, I'll gladly show it to you."

Jo is looking at Niksi and her glass can easily be swapped.

Arric takes a sip from Jo's former glass, making mischievous, unrepentant eye contact with Siamus over its rim.

"After getting a look at this navigational gyroscope? I would love to see it," Arthur says. "Obviously, Cobalt Company and their closest friends in engineering should have had tinker talk ages ago."

"Should we?" Jo says, her eyes alight with the idea. "Maybe like a regular show-and-tell…"

"Engineering runs in the family," Siamus says. "I'm more of an enthusiast myself than a true engineer — mathematics are my forte — but my sister Sintha is brilliant, Mr. Shine is an expert with instrumentation and clockworks, and Ralaea…." He pauses. "Ralaea… enjoys explosives."

He picks up his wine again and bows his head to Art and then Jo. "If the Fallons would be welcome to join with the Cobalts, I know I'd be delighted to speak regularly with the lot of ye, and bring some of the others along. I'd be very glad to host, if ye like, as well."

"Ralaea's really good at explosives," Jo nods cheerfully. "You should've seen her and Shine on Deathwing's back, when we were blowing his armor plates off."

Siamus smiles broadly. That's his lad. "Ah, she was very pleased wi' that business. The explosives, I mean, but obviously the victory as well. We heard a great deal about the explosives aspect of it."

"The explosives aspect was an important part," Jo nods seriously. "Without the bombs, we would never have been able to hit him properly with the Dragon Soul, after all."

"It must have been a sight to see," Arric says a bit wistfully. "I'm pleased to have had a support role, but I really must aim higher if I wish to earn a place in Stormwind. Ha, 'aim higher,' says the rifleman."

Siamus slaps a hand on the tabletop and laughs like Arric's inadvertent wordplay is the wittiest thing he's heard all year. There's nothing of flattery or artifice in it; he is breathless and bright-eyed with hilarity.

Arric looks like he just won the lottery.

Jo giggles happily, and takes a sip of wine. She seems surprised to find that she's nearly finished the glass!

Arthur grins. "There's a lot of room to move, when you're in the Company. The tabard brings people who need help and know to trust it."

"Aye," says Siamus. "I'll have no truck wi'the ordinary lot of mercenaries, but I find Cobalt Company stands head and shoulders above the ordinary lot — above many of our standing forces, in fact — because of its purely meritocratic design. If only I could persuade Stormwind's military to take a leaf from Cobalt's book." His smile says that wasn't really a joke. "People who hire Cobalt know they're getting high skill, because that's what Cobalt Company fosters, and people who join Cobalt may be assured that competence and dedication will see 'em up the ladder."

Arric smiles uncertainly — perhaps wondering if his lack of rapid climb up the ladder may be… indicative of something?

Perish the thought, Falrevere.

"Naturally," Jo says, smiling fondly at Arric, Niksi and Arthur. "We're careful about who we hire — everyone here has merit overflowing."

Arthur opens his mouth to say something, like he wants to debate the point, and shuts it. "There's a lot of things that a squad of five can handle. And if need be, we can pull help from anybody in the company. Though that makes me think…Maybe we should all get together. Everyone from every squad, Specialists, support—everyone with the tabard, invited. Some food, some drink, some time to meet people we haven't met, catch up with people we haven't seen…I think it might be impossible to get everyone, but…"

"A good idea," Jo says, turning to Arthur. "Getting everyone together is always a challenge, but I encourage everyone to take what opportunities they can to get to know one another better."

She probably doesn't mean it like that, Siamus.