A New Endeavor (Yeva)

[Franky]

Frost 5th, 121

Franky was sitting around his table in his office upstairs, sunk into one side of a couch, his wife Dalma lounging deep into a comfortable chair, with Yeva joining them around the table. Franky had a bottle of sweet Ecithian jungle berry wine opened, and everyone had a goblet. Franky had introduced Yeva and Dalma to one another downstairs, and since his staff was able to work well without him, he chose to bring their conversation up here to the office.

A knock at the door rapped twice. Dalma was finishing up a story about how she once caught Franky's hair on fire when he was getting a bit too handsy during one of her fire dances. The scolding for not interrupting that sacred rite was just as fresh now as it was decades ago. Franky laughed, shaking his head, lumbering slowly over to the door. He opened it up a bit, seeing that it was Haroth. The Lysanrin man came in, a fresh bottle of wine and a charcuterie tray whipped up by the kitchen staff. As he set it down upon the table, he cast an eye over at Yeva, catching hers and holding it for just a moment longer than what one might consider typical.

Then the man was back upright, "Have a lovely evening, Ms. Yeva, Ms. Dalma, Mr. Franky."

Franky clasped the man on the back of his shoulder, "Thank you Haroth. Have a good evening, and don't hesitate to fetch me if it gets out of hand."

The man snorted, "We both know Weston wouldn't allow that to happen."

Franky returned to his seat, leaning deep into the cushion. He began pulling out his smoke box and a pipe, dipping into his more expensive tobacco reserves, "I'm still not used to not having hair. Long, flowing crimson locks, straight as a waterfall, down the length of my back." He rubbed at the top of his bald head, sighing. His wife flashed a wanting smile, "Now I won't have to find it everywhere about the house." She turned to Yeva, smiling broadly, "He'd be on tour for a year, and I'd still be finding his dreadful red hairs everywhere. On my clothes, in pillow cases. You red heads sure do make a mess of a clean house." A playful jab. "Our latest grand daughter got his hair though. That was such a pleasant sight to see. They'll be around in the morning if you haven't met the clan yet."

"She's a real beauty." He looked over at his wife and smiled, a man truly content and happy. But there was pain behind his eyes, and his wife could see it. It was there ever since that final campaign of his, and would be there forever. The light that had been in his eyes, the light that she knew didn't shine for her, had been snuffed. So she held onto that light within hers, carrying that torch for the both of them.

"Have you any children, Yeva? I cannot say I'm as familiar with foreign lands as our Franky here."

[Yeva]

Frost 5th, 121

The door was opened and Yeva's laugh danced around the room, spilling into the hallway and fading to a gentle sigh. Perched upon a chair with her legs beneath her, the young woman cradled a near empty goblet of wine, which she looked up from as a colorful figure entered the room. A lyserin with crimson skin and horns like a ram's strode into the room with a charcuterie board and a refill of drink. He was vaguely familiar - his striking presence often seen behind the bar downstairs - although Yeva's knowledge of the man was secondhand from the mouths of others. He moved with ease towards the table wearing a white button down and suspenders, fingers long and black as they slid the offering towards the hobgoblin and his guests.

Haroth held her gaze. Where others had whites in their eyes, his were pooled black around the iris, endless and strange. Yeva sat very still, even as the tempting colors of food played on the edge of her vision. The bartender straightened and looked back to Franky, the removal of his attention akin to a weight lifted from her chest. Yeva exhaled and finished her drink, whispering a thanks when he wished her well. Haroth had addressed them all and yet she couldn't help but feel a bit pleased at being acknowledged by name. The feeling of importance was short lived as the conversation returned to its original discussion and the door closed with a flick of Haroth's tail, sealing him from sight.

Yeva blinked and refocused on the conversation, "You're teasing," she grinned, looking between Franky and Dalma. The young mysticshook her head in disbelief, wrinkling her nose in amusement, "Noooo...." she snickered, imagining hair just as described, finding it difficult to imagine Franky as anything other than how he was now. The husband and wife stood by their descriptions, claiming a granddaughter who took after him, "Really?"

Wow.

"She's a real beauty."

The mirth was simmering down, growing into a gentle sigh of pleasantness. Dalma turned to her, "Have you any children, Yeva?"

The question made her blush, "Oh, no. no. No. I mean, maybe one day. I just, you know, haven't really..." she wasn't sure where she was going with the sentence, not wanting to offend either of them, who had chosen a family life, "-made... any."

There was an awkward pause, Yeva feeling the answer quite poorly worded, using the shift of topic to take a moment to pluck a few pieces of salted meat from the food tray and pretend she hadn't sounded so uncomfortable, "Sol'Valen is pretty much your typical elf city with a superiority complex. Lots of bureaucracy, entitlement...It's still beautiful... in a very perfectionist sort of way..."

Yeva believe in being honest about criticism, and did not offer loyalty to anyone or anything without reason. She loved her home, but it was not without its entitlement, "I've been to Kalsazi once. Just on a vacation one summer. Other than that, Zaichaer is the only other place I've ever been. I can't say I know much about the world outside of books and stories."

[Franky]

Franky grinned seeing Yeva's stammering answer. She was so young, and she was responding like so many people who were quite young would answer. Elves lived longer than his people, so he assumed they started making babies and families later in life than his own kind. At the mention of bureaucracy, he could only chuckle. "The Imperium certainly has quite the bureaucratic system, paperwork for everything. If something could be done right, the Imperium can make it take twice as long and cost just as much through paperwork alone."

Franky leaned forward, topping off his drink, "But now we travel, explore the world, experience new things." He held the cup out for a very informal toast, before taking a deep drink. He went to ask more on Sol'Valen when there was a short, metallic rapping on the door. Must be Weston. The door opened and Weston stepped inside, looking a bit confused, out of sorts. "Apologies on interrupting Franky, but you have a guest. A very insistent one."

Franky had never seen Weston look so offput and nodded, "Well, see them in. Thank you, Weston." Franky's number two nodded, opening the door wide. In walked a woman, human, standing tall, in a well tailored suit, perfectly groomed hair, heels clacking loudly as she entered. She smiled, "Thank you." She turned to look Franky in the eye, followed by Dalma and Yeva. Weston nodded once more, departing, closing the door behind him.

Franky stood up, setting his drink down, "Welcome to my office. I assume you know that I'm Franky. This is my wife, Dalma, and my friend, Yeva." He stepped forward, extending a hand. She took it firmly, a natural smile while maintaining eye contact with the hobgoblin. "Thank you, Franky. I've been looking forward to meeting you for quite some time now. My name is Merielle."

Franky gestured to an open chair, "Oh is that so? And would you like a drink, Merielle?"

She sat down comfortably into the chair, lounging in the way that still exuded her presence, and maintaining her perfect posture. "Yes please."

Franky poured her a drink, and offered to top up Yeva's and Dalma's drinks as well. He finally sat down, "So, why is it that you've been looking forward to meeting me? I'm but a simple tavern owner here in the Knob, after all."

Merielle took a healthy drink, "Oh that's delicious. Ecithian?" The question was rhetorical, "Now, Franky, are we in good company?" She looked over at Yeva suspiciously as she said this. Franky was quick to pick up on that pointed gesture. "Yes. My wife and Yeva both are mystics and have helped to guide me through the fates that are woven. Anything you wish to discuss can be discussed amongst them as well."

Merielle nodded, "Very well, Major. I have heard about you through some of my contacts, making some interesting waves around here. You arrive here in Zaichaer after a very successful military career. A career that was seemingly cut short due to the secrecy surrounding your final campaign. You bought your bar with your pension, and exploded in popularity overnight. You employed a man like you as your number two, an old colleague from the military, and even a daughter from a fallen noble family. You've made deals with paperboys, with an old farmer. You've hosted many events here, of Imperial and Zaichaeri nature alike, much to the delight of the locals. You, sir, are anything but a simple tavern owner, and clearly retirement is not something you're interested in."

Franky had alarm bells going off left and right in his head. It reminded him of when Inquisitor Veronica paid him a visit the season prior. None of what she knew was a secret, but it wasn't information that was necessarily well known to any one person either. But he remembered what Veronica had said, follow the spiders, and this woman certainly seemed to fit that metaphor. She continued, "Now, what I don't know is this... why? What is it you're intending to do here, Frankorg? Because you seem to be finding plenty of success, but you needn't a mystic to tell you that comes with a lot of attention and danger."

A musing thought on her lips, "And now you partner with this woman from Sol'Valen, you bring in an entire clan of military trained soldiers, family, from the Imperium. It all rings as suspicious. What are you getting after, Franky? Are you acting as an agent of self, or do you come doing the Imperium's bidding? Because that would be the absolute dumbest move I could see you making, even with all of the pro-Imperium sentiment here."

So with a protective ferocity in her gaze, one that demanded the truth, "What are you up to, Franky?"

[Yeva]

Franky and his wife were kind.

They did not push in delicate conversation. There were no inadequacies suggested for her youth; and she was not inferior because of it. For that, Yeva allowed a sigh of relief and lifted her glass in silent thanks as well as toast. It did not occur to the young elf just often she was made to feel that way in life until there came a rapping on the door.

No one had expected another visitor so soon after Haroth. Had he forgotten something? Yeva sat forward. In stepped a man with dark hair, horn-less, but with arms of dark metal, wonderous prosthetics. A perfect mix of science and magic. Yeva recognized him at once as Weston, one of the managers of the tavern. Like with many of the others, she kept an amicable, if shy, distance. When she did speak, it was often to share about what she was reading, or studying, or to ask if they wanted to draw a card for practice. She thought to change that and say hello, but the expression he wore silenced her. Weston looked confused, cautious?

He excused himself and the announced entered.

A woman with short, but stylized blonde hair walked in. She was human, well dressed, and her hawk eyes homed in on Franky, who played the role of gracious host, skilled as always. They made introductions. Merielle. Franky. Dalma. Yeva.

A drink was poured and shared.

"Now, Franky, are we in good company?"

Merielle's eyes were like knives, piercing her with a jolt. Yeva's brows furrowed and she looked to Dalma and Franky helplessly. What was that for? What wouldn't she be good company? Yeva remained very still, clutched her drink with both hands and frowned. Franky's defenses were only slightly helpful in soothing the girl, Yeva's company was reasoned by her connection to her practice of divination and not her actual character.

He means well, she told herself. He trusts me. Don't let her rattle you.

Yeva gave a small smile, taking a drink and sitting forward to grab a bit of fruit from the tray Haroth had left. The conversation, if it could be called such, continued. Merielle led the dialogue, rattled information off in matter-of-fact succession while Yeva nibbled on a red grape, the flesh soured after the bite of liquor. She bit the skin between her teeth and peeled it back, eyes flickered between the others, alternating between fruit and drink. Something about the interaction was... persistent. It wasn't just that the woman was a fan seeking an audience with a prospering business owner, or even the expected suspicion a human of Zaichaer might hold for a hobgoblin. it felt too formal, too precise. A blade to the throat, an interrogation.

The young girl swallowed, glancing at the door. Was it too late to excuse herself? Would she seem a coward?

Merielle had clearly done her research, but there was something unspoken. Was it possible Franky had ulterior motives?

The thought came before she could stop it, He is a goblin.

At once, she felt ashamed, setting aside her drink and pushing herself further into the plush cushion. Her cheeks had reddened and drew her arms across her chest, silently mulling over all the things done for her. After all of that, she was still fighting the imprint of prejudice she had grown up with. Merielle's continual acknowledgement of the military stirred old imaginings of bloody, war thirsty goblins. It was quite the comparison to the family man and respectable business owner she had witnessed firsthand.

Yeva looked uneasy. She pushed the grab into the inside of her cheek, deep in thought.


Who was this woman who knew so much? She knew she was from Sol'Valen. Her focus was Franky, but what else had she discovered?
Merielle wanted them to know she had been watching, listening, or that she had others to do so for her. She demanded an answer from Franky, as Yeva chewed and swallowed the poor grape. "What are you up to, Franky?" The redhead's ears were open, but she stared in the middle space, eyes distant as memory stirred. She could see the spelling.

M e r i e l l e ...

"Cavendish," she whispered, barely a breath.

A woman who was well informed. Who spoke as if interviewing or interrogating? Who could gather a report on someone with ease? Her logic aligned like the stars in the sky, "Cavendish," she repeated, blinking as the lost look was replaced with a delight at the solved puzzle. She met the woman's eye but was suddenly confused as to what she could want with Franky. This woman specialized in... well...

Yeva looked between the trio, going to rise to her feet, "She's quite the prolific writer," she explained to both Franky and his wife, clearing her throat. As it was established previously, Yeva enjoyed a good read, "I've the seen the name printed around the city. You were... a reporter, previously?"

[Franky]

Franky's eyes narrowed, that question, asking what he was up to was pointed enough to be considered a threat. He may not be a soldier anymore but he still had the instincts of one in many regards. However, it was the small whispered voice of Yeva that snapped him out of that hyperfocused defensive posturing he was entering into. She had found a thread to pull on, a task at which all Mystics were seemingly gifted, in their own ways. He saw that look of confused realization settle over Yeva's pretty, young face. He was already convinced before and witnessing this only further emboldened his belief.

Yeva was truly a talented Mystic and he was forever grateful that the fates had arranged for their paths to align for now. At her mention of Merielle Cavendish being a reporter, Franky found his mind finally catching up. Having framed the name in such a way, a memory was coming forth, the tiniest of details, ignited and brought to life by Yeva's aid.

"You wrote that piece for the Tribune, about some nobleman and officer being caught buggering his subordinates and superiors alike."

It was an absolute trash piece of gossip. Well written but the topic poorly chosen. Just a bunch of soldier's sticking their wickets about each other, not news. He did not add insult to the statement, he felt it would be enough on its own. But now it was time to take charge of the conversation. He made a mental note to thank Yeva for her insight after this, always trustworthy and ever helpful.

"You're well researched, Ms. Cavendish. I will say, you surprised me, hearing all of these details about myself, tucked into a nice presentation like that. Thank you. As for what I am 'up to', what is it you are hoping to find? Some nefarious plot surrounding a greenskin finding some mild financial success? Surely one such as yourself can do better than that. My success is simply because I do not pretend to be that which I am not, which is more than I can say for most around here. Am I some harbinger of a terrifying Imperial plot to retake Zaichaer? I assure you, if and when they decide to conduct such an endeavor, they can do far better than utilizing an old, broken down Major that was left for dead by them."

A slight, smug tug at the corner of his mouth, the barest of a hint of a smile forming, "You say I've made waves that you've heard through your contacts. Which means you've utilized contacts that are not the typical Zaichaeri human. The humans that frequent these places I'm known pay as little mind to me and my kind as they can. They wouldn't be useful, not overly so as is. They would just as likely mix me up for any of the goblins around here, or think me an Ork. No, you've allied with the true natives of this neighborhood for your contacts."

Franky sipped at his drink, looking over at his wife, smiling, "My family was brought here because I was lost, and those I've surrounded myself with were suffering for it, watching my decline. My family has lifted me up, because they've accepted me for who I am, even when I was starting to forget."

He looked back toward Merielle, "What am I doing here, really? The same thing I've always done. Finding myself in a big mess and having to the lead to clear it up. The Knob and the people here need leadership and guidance. Something is coming in this city, I can feel it. Surely you can too. It's this electrifying feel, like when you look down the barrel of a gun and absolutely know that trigger is about to be pulled."

He looked Merielle straight in the eyes now, "And I do not intend to allow those who support me and I support in return to all die because some other leader thought it the lesser of evils. Not again."

Franky sat back, bearing a stern grimace upon his face. Merielle, on the other hand, broke into smile.

"Then we find ourselves aligned." She looked over at Yeva, "Apologies for my rudeness to you. I needed to test him, and you were the bait." Looking back at Franky, "Because that's what I do. I poke and I prod and I test those around me in the world. I've had my fun with the noble and the wealthy and those on west side, but I've decided to do something a bit more meaningful. Much like yourself, I'm considering retirement, but I cannot retire in boredom."

She smiled, "I have my own intentions with meeting you, and I will share them. However, you've no reason to trust me, despite my deciding to trust you. After all, you know me not. So how would you like me to prove my trustworthiness to you? I accept whatever you throw my way, or I'll simply leave if you wish to hear no more."

Franky's grumpy exterior did not diminish, though there was just a hint of interest in his eyes. Someone willingly prostrating themselves up front, a clear sign of respect that had not been shown earlier. He still quite wasn't sure what she was after, but it did not seem to be finding some deep secret of his. Franky looked over at Yeva, "Yeva, would you be willing to do a reading with Merielle? I wish to see what you and the Fates can sus out. What do the threads show?"

[Yeva]

Yeva had uncovered a nugget of information in comparison to what Merielle had presented, but it seemed enough to stir Franky's existing knowledge. He connected his own dots, using it as a jumping point to take a firmer control of the conversation. The subtle, unspoken web of intelligence and manipulation between the two was making her head spin and she felt that each new discovery about her landlord and this mysterious stranger were as important as they were delicate. Both Merielle and Franky were sizing the other up, determining if the other was a threat or ally. Yeva looked to Dalma, wondering what the older woman was thinking when it came to the precise Ms. Cavendish, hoping for some insight that seemed to elude her.

It wasn't long before Franky was seeking the same sort of insight, suggesting a reading for Merielle. What do the threads show?

Why didn't he ask his wife? Wasn't she a far better practitioner of Divination than she, or was it the sagacity of Tarot in particular that he sought? Dalma, after all, was a smoke dancer, in specialty.

Yeva crossed her arms at the request, bristling at being called bait, "I do not accept her apology," she stated flatly, speaking of Merielle as if she were not in the room. It was a childish display, but she was simply following the human's lead. "Apologies are the acknowledgment of regretful action, yet she does not regret it at all," Merielle did not respect her, that was fine. Yeva had not done anything to earn that, but it still stung the softhearted elf. She claims trustworthiness, but she lies.

The redhead huffed a sigh, shaking her head.

Her readings were gifts, often requested by the querent themselves. Yeva, out of her own moral code, did not do readings on the lives of others without permission. Merielle had agreed to whatever was 'thrown' at her, and so the mystic relented, "Fine. If you wish," she finally looked back at Cavendish, asking for final permission, "You are willing?"

Awaiting the answer, if allowed, Yeva slipped away from her seat to gather her bag, which hung by far door. She unclasped the leather strap and withdrew a carved wooden box, intricate and elven in design. A match and a small stick of sage incense gathered as well, she returned to the small coffee table and cleared the space she needed. Opening the box, she removed the cards, bound in black silk. She smoothed the fabric out, standing the deck, face down in its center.

Yeva did not speak, took a sip of her forgotten drink and lit the match. She knocked the cards as she always did, burned the incense and closed her eyes, thinking of her focus and the request of the reading. A call for insight and intention on Merielle Cavendish. The smoke snaked into the air when Yeva leaned forward and blew a gentle streak of silver wisps across the cards. Her lips moved in silent prayer and she laid aside the burning incense, poising it upon the rim of an ashtray.

The girl was focused, serious but intentional. There was a grace that slithered into her posture, a confidence and pride that had not been there before.

"Alright," she picked up the cards and shuffled them with dexterous fingers. She was getting faster, more confident. The cards trilled in a swift bridging and laid silently before the woman, "Please cut the deck, as you wish," Yeva would wait until the woman did so, and nodded. Taking her deck, she swept her hand across the pile, layering them out in a single line, "You may draw three."

Yeva waited until three cards were drawn. She nodded again, and without explanation reached out to take one of her own, Querent. She placed her choice, face down above the three that Merielle had drawn.

It was time to reveal.

"Querent." She flipped the top card, the one she had chosen herself. Queen of Wands. "You are a determined woman, bold in your actions and undertakings. You lead a busy life, making connections with others and putting yourself out there as you pursue your creative vision," No matter her first impression of Merielle, Yeva did not let that cloud her interpretations of the cards. She brushed her fingers against the black cat that sat the queen's feet, "You are a leader, natural born... The cat symbolizes a shadow self... the passion project you’ve kept hidden away. While you may have wanted to protect this part of yourself, it is what enables you to connect with others on a deeper level."

Who you were. Five of Swords. "Victory through deceit; Opportunist. Someone with a competitive mentality who wants to win at all costs. Your past failures have only made you smarter and wiser, ". The symbolism involved a dark-haired elf collecting the swords after a skirmish. Two orcs, exhausted, battle worn, rested in the background. Although difficult to see clearly, their faces looked pained. They were the remainder of a war. While some might look upon the card and assume the elf in the forefront had bested the other figures in battle, Yeva always felt the lithe figure in the forefront had come to collect the spoils in the devasting aftermath of another's suffering. It was a card that could symbolize bullying or intimidation, somewhat unsurprising given Merielle's introduction. Yeva offered a bit of advice, unsure who needed to hear it, "Defensive behavior usually creates a cycle of aggression, so be very clear with your own actions and how they affect this environment. Still... " she glanced up, hand already moving towards the next. She could feel a draw to the card, a pull.

Yeva began to turn over the center card, sneaking a peek at its contents before she revealed it to the room. Her hands hesitated and when Yeva looked up, it was with the same wide-eyed look as before, only Franky would know. Really know. Her lips moved, but no words came out. There were moments like this in fortune telling, when you read the omens, but to see the connections, were not daily occurrences. She was still such a young practioner, often fumbling or doubting the truth of her own actions. Most of her readings and predictions were of things she would never see. It was a blessed day for a diviner when they witnessed a glimpse at the tapestry of fate, good or ill. Yeva's heart pounded, because she knew in that moment, Merielle Cavendish was going have a far greater impact on the days to come than she ever could have expected. She exhaled and looked away from the hobgoblin, acutely aware of the tension in the room. She cleared her throat, focusing on Merielle's reading, no longer concerned with the earlier disrespect, "You are..."

"In the process of entering a partnership."

Yeva flipped over the card in her hand to show the others, laying out the Two of Cups. Yeva had to resist the urge to look at Franky again, desperate to know what he is thinking. And what of his wife? What did she think of the evening's events? "Your goals will be aligned," just as the cups were. She had told Franky something similar once, pointing out that neither cup held by the two people in the imagery were held higher than the other, "This suggest a relationship that is mutually beneficial, one where the partners encourage one another to do their best. A new partnership that will be fruitful, and you will work well together. Each will bring with them strengths the other lacks and it will create a balance that was lacking before."

Finally, the last card. She turned over the King of Pentacles. Its imagery was of a grinning goblin, lounging on a throne of gold coins. Yeva was silent for a moment, listening to the call of her intuition. "This will be the final fulfillment for your goal," she said, brushing her thumb against the queen, "Completing the passion project you've coveted... The King of Pentacles knows that a methodical, planned and well-thought-out approach will lead you to success. You have experimented in the past with what works best and have landed on your own methods and practices you know will continue to work for you in the future. Money will flow easily and abundantly to you, and as you sit at the pinnacle of your economic power and influence, you will rest assured of your continued prosperity. You will no longer struggle to achieve what you desire, like the Page and the Knight, nor will you have any need to prove yourself."

The Hytori was no longer sure if she was reading for Merielle or Franky or both. The messages were so strong and interchangeable, the connections between each meaning laid bare, she was starting to feel overwhelmed. When she reached for her drink, she remembered it was emptied. She allowed the last card and its message to settle with her audience but felt rather out of sorts. Tired, maybe, "May I have another glass, please?"

[Franky]

Franky grinned at Yeva refusing to accept the half-attempted apology. He couldn't blame her and only respected her more for it, even if others might think it childish. Franky would disagree. Respect must be given to be earned, and now this Merielle would need to make a genuine and honest effort at it. Yeva, after all, was not some immaterial bystander, nor was she merely a business partner. She was a friend of Franky's and she was someone he'd put under his personal protection. Merielle would have to do better.

He watched on, quietly and curiously, as Merielle consented to the reading, an amused curiosity upon her own face. But where Franky was hoping to glean truth, Merielle was finding amusement. She was, after all, a woman who dug out the real, physical truth. She sought and chased only the real, so this divination, to her, was more about the psychology at play, both of Franky and of Yeva.

As Yeva set to work, Dalma was watching the smoke from the mystic's incense. She was a fire dancer, so flame and smoke were the domains in which she tread. She knew why Franky had chosen Yeva over her, and she agreed with his decision. This was how Franky worked. Yeva had been disrespected, and now Franky had offered Yeva a choice to flourish and demand the claim to the respect that was rightfully hers. It was a tactic that worked when he had soldiers under his command, and it was one that clearly would work in his business as well.

Franky watched on with the rapt attention of a true believer in the divinity of the fates at play here. He refused to interrupt, not wishing to muddle Yeva's work. And as Yeva spoke, Franky's mind went to work, taking the information and insight she yielded, and working with it. And as Yeva spoke, Dalma watched Merielle. She knew her husband would be so focused on the divining in front of him, so her role would be to observe this woman. After all, much of her career was spent more watching and listening to others rather than being watched and listened to herself.

At the querent, particularly that of the passion project, there was the slightest hint of a wobble in Merielle's eyes. A secret discovered, revealed ahead of its time. As the Five of Swords was revealed, Dalma was sure she could've guessed that, so it was nice that the fates reaffirmed that. It also triggered the defensive behavior in Merielle, as Dalma saw the slightest of strain on the woman's temples. It was tempered and in check, but it was there. As the Two of Cups entered, a slight twitch in the lips, a smile almost given away freely. This answer was that which she'd hoped for. She'd come for this, this was her target. She sought a partnership, a means to her own ends.

The King of Pentacles was a double edged sword, however. Every word that Yeva spoke was truth, but this card was one that returned to the fates repeatedly, and with each dip in the well, the coins would rise but the King would remain still. Death by one's own success was common in this one. But Dalma held her tongue, she knew when it would be her time and her place.

As Yeva sought a drink, Franky reached for the pitcher to provide, an automated response as a man whose first instinct is to serve, built into his very core. A servant with no master but himself. However, Merielle, held up a hand, "Allow me, please."

She waited just a moment, before her fingers deftly grasped the pitcher and poured Yeva's refreshment. Aggression, Merielle was seizing control of the situation after having been put on the defensive by Yeva's truthspeaking. "It is true that I--" Franky held up a hand, and she paused. Franky, in all of her research, was never one to interrupt another. It was one of his strengths, how he managed to get people to speak their everything to him. "Thank you, Yeva, for reading the fates here."

He let the air hang in silence for a long, dragging moment. Just long enough that Merielle shifted just a bit uncomfortably under his stern gaze. He could respect her tactics, she had wanted something from him. So she came in aggressively, an initial sortie, to see how he would respond. She attacked but did not make an attempt to take. She did not lie, but she did obscure. She knew what she wanted would need to be given. And Merielle clearly was not one who enjoyed being given anything in life.

"Tell me of this project of yours, plainly, Ms. Cavendish. The Fates have offered their wisdom, and I will listen, but know this. I do not tolerate deception put upon me and mine. If you don't know this already, know it now."

Merielle gave a stern, a fierce gaze even in return. Heated and impassioned, being forced to give up the secret within at his beck and call in order to achieve the goal. The loss of control was infuriating for the woman and it was plain upon her face.

"I wish to show the people of Zaichaer who they really are. All of the people, not just the world I am from, nor the world in which we find ourselves now. You all may read the fates, but I read people. And a reckoning is coming, one that I will have a role to play in, and affect every person in this city. And the people need to see who they really are for it to succeed."

A smirk, "To speak plainly? I will start a real newspaper, with real news, to reflect who we really are here in Zaichaer, to help facilitate the change that is coming. I want to upset those that are fat and comfortable upon their thrones and help those suffering to rise up and break their chains."

Then she extended the olive branch, "I am from the Cavendish family, one of, if not the wealthiest family in Zaichaer. I am disgusted by the methods my family achieved its success, how they wished to make me weaker and lesser by giving me everything they thought I needed. In my last post, I was angry and vindictive, looking to simply hurt and humiliate those from which I hoped to separate myself. But now? Now it is time for me to do something truly worthwhile.

A revolution is coming, and I want to fire that first shot."

Franky listened patiently, never interrupting. He felt she was speaking truly, and his mind was working, weighing the risks, considering the prospects of it. To take on something like this wasn't just risky on him, but on everyone he touched. It risked bringing death upon his family, upon the entirety of the Knob. But that wouldn't necessarily stay Franky's hand. He was a soldier of war. Every land he'd helped invade potentially invited death to his people. One couldn't go through this world without inviting conflict.

"And how do you intend to keep the government from simply shutting you down or forcing their words down your gullet? You've read the same trash that I have."

An intelligent gleam crossed through the woman's eyes, "Information truly is power. That is why you surround yourself in counsel with mystics and diviners, that is why you listen more than you speak, that is why you put yourself in a position to cross as many paths as possible. I have, for years, wielded this power against those who have the means, both by wealth and by position, to have me silenced and killed a thousand times over. And yet, that has not happened yet. Because for those in power, they do not fear the information that has come to light, no. They fear those stories that never will. And those are the tool for this revolution. Those secrets that exchange hands in the darkness, those are what will make change. And as I reveal more of this world to the public, it makes those secrets easier to get ahold of, as they scramble to hide them better."

Franky raised an interested eyebrow. A newspaper as a front, an intelligence gathering operation underneath. That was a bold prospect. It was the opposite of what Zaichaer, and even the Imperium did. They wove small lies to hide greater lies. This would be speaking truth to find greater truths. Franky could see the power and influence and wealth that could bring. He wouldn't be able to be the face of it, not as a goblin. That would have to be Merielle, and with that, Franky was content. His ego was not so great that his name need be on everything.

"I will fund this project, you will run it and be the face of it. As the fates have shown, we will be equals in this. I will never withhold from you, and you will do me the same. We will yield this information you find, together. But know this, if you ever speak one deception to me or if you ever print a single word of untruth, I will burn it all to the ground. Anything but absolute perfection of this agreement will result in the deaths of us both and all we know and care about. I will not allow for that. If this is agreeable, we can talk specifics at our next meeting."

He leaned back in his armchair, sipping at the drink in hand, waiting and watching. Her face was stern and revealed a bit of her tired nature as she considered all of this, the entirety of this exchange. "This partnership is agreeable."

Franky nodded, standing up, offering his large, scarred warrior's hand. Merielle reached out with her long, spindly fingers, with unashamed ink stains upon them and grasped it firmly as they looked into one another's eyes. With that union confirmed, "I will take my leave, for I did interrupt your evening." She looked over to Yeva, "Thank you for reading the cards. It is... refreshing to hear such truths I've not ever allowed myself to speak allowed about myself." She turned toward the door and stopped, turning back, "And I truly apologize for using you in such a manner earlier. I will not do it again, nor will I allow any other to do the same."

And with that, Merielle saw herself out. Franky's shoulders relaxed as he exhaled a bit. Another battle fought and won. Dalma got up from her spot and gracefully moved over, sitting in next to him, resting her head upon his shoulder. She needn't say anything, she just leaned into him and that was enough. Franky looked over at Yeva, "Seems the fates are intending to make your life quite interesting. Is this a path you wish to continue on with us?"

[Yeva]

Yeva suddenly felt like a child that had snuck herself a seat at the adult table. She focused on the drink in her hands, wrapping her fingers around the mug instead of picking at her nails anxiously. She didn't want to appear out of her element, no matter how the series of events unfolded. Yeva had been invited, her skills were appreciated. She had to keep telling herself she belonged, even if it took some convincing. Merielle rose and excused herself. An apology was offered, far more sincerely than the one before and the Yeva felt her prickly judgement of the woman softening. That didn't mean Yeva trusted her; the cards had been quite clear in how Merielle had done business in the past.

Yeva nodded, politely offering a small congratulations as the woman left and the room was heavy in a silent aftermath of suspense. Dalma leaned against her husband in a gesture of solidarity that was oddly affection given the topic of the evening. Franky was pensive, all parties involved seemingly processing what this arrangement meant. Revolution? Was she ready for something like that? Finally, Franky addressed her, "Seems the fates are intending to make your life quite interesting. Is this a path you wish to continue on with us?"

The redhead stared down at her cards, wondering where she fit into this political puzzle. What Franky and Merielle had discussed was dangerous. Yeva did not answer right away, her friend clearly more than just an old goblin seeking retirement.

"This is... your path," she said softly, slipping the cards back into her deck one by one. "You have looked out for me, and I am happy to return the favor... But," she exhaled.

I'm falling into old habits.

"I don't know....I think I'm being called to do something else." she chewed at her lip, tormented by something, "Something strange happened to me, Franky, and I wasn't sure what it meant, but the more days that pass, the more restless I feel,"[It was more than just youthful exuberance. It was a pull, telling her to take action, but what that was remained unclear. Yeva finally pulled her eyes up from the last card - the king of pentacles - to look at the duo before her, "Yesterday I was giving readings at Grand Central Station," How Yeva earned her money was her business; she had only ever agreed to tell Franky what she learned in her readings if the fates revealed a threat to him or his, "I know that's a bit risky and I normally wouldn't have... but... Visitors are more receptive."

The story continued, "Everything was normal, and then... I met an ork. A woman, she was blind, I-" Yeva rubbed her eyes as the memory hazed in her mind, "It was... different this time. The world, it was like... like a tunnel?"

Fortune is a funny thing, the woman had said, But it seems that He has chosen to humor me today.

Yeva's heart began to pound thinking about it, "The wind blew and my cards were scattered. I stood up, and then there was coin in my hand and... she was gone. And I started running and..." The whole thing felt like a dream and sounded like one. If there was anyone in Zaichaer who would believe her, it would be these two, "I kept grabbing at my cards, but the Wheel of Fortune kept slipping through my fingers. She had told me to chase it and I did, and... I didn't know the Inquisitors were trying to catch me but... I found this place. A door."

"That place protected me."

Yeva paused to take a drink, watching the others, "I don't know," she repeated, "I feel as if our paths may be diverging. I... I think I need to find out what's happening to me."

► Show Spoiler

This is in regards to Yeva's secret:

The echo of the train’s whistle sounding over the noise of Zaichaer’s Grand Central Station drew her attention. A busy day at the station with travelers from all parts of the Free Cities. There were trains to Haqs, ferrying in livestock that would be transported to the butcher houses across the city. There were the minerals carted in from Satesoria that were so vital to the daily functions of Zaichaer. Of course, there were the people too. The people who filed in and out of the trains going from one destination to the next. And then there was Yeva, allowed to set up her curious stand and peddle her deeds of fortunetelling and soothsaying to the curiosity of those whose attention she managed to grab. Young women giggling as they got their fortunes read, men who wanted to prove that there was nothing so scary about the superstitious nonsense of telling the future. And then, there was her.

She was an Orkhan woman with a mix of black and grey hair. Her eyes were hazy with blindness and on her shoulder was perched a curious catlike creature. Its eyes were wide with excitement and curiosity as its head went to and fro watching the world around them. She sat down a Yeva’s table. It was a simple reading, only three cards. When the time came for them to be drawn it was a curious mix of fortunes. The woman listened to her reading quietly. Her expression remained passive, cloudy eyes fixed on Yeva the whole time. When the reading came to an end, the woman nodded as though confirming something to herself. She then did something unusual. She extended a hand and the world seemed to tunnel around her. The noise of the station became muffled as she picked up a single card from Yeva’s deck.

“Fortune is a funny thing.” A smile tugged at her lips as though she were enjoying some private joke. “But it seems that He has chosen to humor me today.”

She flipped the card so that it was displayed to Yeva. The Wheel of Fortune in its upright position.

“Follow your fortune.” A sudden breeze picked up and the card in the Orkhan woman’s hand was swept away in the wind. The winds blew stronger and the cards on Yeva’s table were blown across the floor. In the commotion, Yeva would take her eyes off the woman for one moment and upon looking back, she was gone as though she’d never been there in the first place. In her place were a handful of gold coins. As Yeva went to collect her cards, the Wheel of Fortune continued to drift in the breeze, further and further…and further. Until Yeva managed to catch up to it. It sat upon a plain looking wooden door. As she reached for the card, it was sucked inside through a slit in the door. Knocking upon the door would see no answer. As Yeva tried the lock, it would not budge. When finally she turned to leave, there came a creak as the door opened.

“Did you see her?” A voice came from down the corridor. Two men stepped into the corridor just as Yeva crossed the threshold into the room. Reconciliators.The door seemed stuck as she might have attempted to close it and would not budge. They meandered down until they came to a stop right in front of the door. They looked right at it. They looked through it…as though it simply wasn’t there.

“I don’t see anything. Probably ran off somewhere. Darn fortunetellers. No better than witches to me. Come on.” Yeva was safe. For the moment. Looking around the room revealed a dusty workshop. A space that looked like something out of an old fable. A place where cogs and gears, bottles and crates seemed to be stacked. Upon the doorway however, there was but a single symbol, that of a catseye resting at the center of a circle, smudged and worn with age.

Yeva’s tarot card was sitting just on the floor in front of a table upon which rested a dust covered crystal ball and beside it sat a bronze key.

What was this place?

[Franky]

Franky listened on with rapt admiration of this story. The threads of the world, the fates, were giving Yeva a mighty push toward something. He was about to speak when he felt his wife's hand on his arm, silencing him. The biggest of smiles crossed Dalma's face, one so broad and genuine that it was not one of her common ones. Her eyes were sparkling and she stood up moving over to Yeva, offering both hands, to bring Yeva to her feet. Franky just watched on in curiosity. He trusted Dalma fully, and watched her set about her goal here.

Dalma made sure that Yeva would be looking into her eyes, "The Storyteller has reached out to you. She Who Speaks is offering you guidance, that is why you feel your path is diverging, for it is. Galetira, the goddess of all of us diviners and fortune readers, is calling to you." Dalma's own excitement was exuding from every pore, "Every fortune teller that follows their true path among the interwoven fates of the world is invited by Galetira on their pilgrimage. I went on mine several years ago." She looked over at Franky, "Remember, we spent that week in that bog on the edge of Sangen before your march. You went south," she looked at Yeva, "And I crossed the Crystal Sea."

She smiled, "Across the sea is Ecith, motherland of the Orkhan. Galetira calls it home, and all diviners she invites make their pilgrimage there. It's what separates many of us from the charlatans, the liars, and the lost. It is a beautiful journey."

She looked over at Franky, expectantly. He grinned, "Yeva, if you would like to make this pilgrimage, I will see to it that it happens. I will cover the cost of the trip personally, with no expectations attached. I only know of Dalma's own experiences from what she's told me, so I'm sure it will be exactly what you'll need."

A soft smile, "So if that's what you want, I will make it so."

Dalma looked back at her, "You'll get to meet her! Her temple in Drathera is so grand and beautiful, every space adorned in artwork of those who listen to the fates. The Orks of Ecith are a warm and welcoming people, even if their stairs are a bit foreboding."

Franky snorted. He'd never been for he would be killed on sight if he had, but he had always heard wonderful things. Perhaps in another life he would've liked it there. But he knew enough for his next statement, "It's all rain right now. Come Glade it will be entering the sunny and dry season. And.." Things Franky wouldn't talk about, "I suspect Zaichaer is about to get a bit tumultuous this Glade. Might be a good time for such a trip, while we deal with things here."

A soft smile from Franky, "Say so and it is yours, Yeva."

[Aegis]

REVIEW TIME

Franky

Lores:
Resistance: Ecithian Sweet Berry Wine
Storytelling: The Time Dalma Set Franky's Hair on Fire
Etiquette: Sol'valen has an elven superiority complex
Etiquette: Sol'valen focuses on perfectionism
Etiquette: Sharing the credentials of trusted friends
Etiquette: Defending a friend from social attacks
Etiquette: Presenting opportunities for a friend to stand up for themselves in social situations
Etiquette: Wielding open honesty as a weapon
Etiquette: Using interruptions rarely but powerfully
Etiquette: Helping a dear friend in any way possible

Loot: -2000gp / season while Yeva is traveling to, is in, and traveling back from Ecith
Injuries: N/A

Points: 10

Comments: N/A


Yeva

Lores:
Resistance: Ecithian Sweet Berry Wine
Storytelling: The Time Dalma Set Franky's Hair on Fire
Fortunetelling: Finding that true, deep connection in the cards
Fortunetelling: Following the flow and pace of the signs
Fortunetelling: Always sharing what the signs show
Fortunetelling: Taking the necessary time to listen to one's intuition
Fortunetelling: The signs often mix when multiple people are involved
Etiquette: The Pilgrimage of Seers to Ecith

Loot: 2000 GP / Season while traveling to, while in, and traveling back from Ecith to maintain a Good lifestyle
Injuries: N/A

Points: 10

Comments: N/A