The Help [Vanessa]

[Anton]

"This," Anton decided almost immediately, "is a casual conversation. It should be held in a casual environment." Standing from his stone seat, he started the walk back to his rooms, a feat that he little needed magic to perform. He continued talking as he walked through ancient halls into far newer ones, expecting without a hint of doubt in his mind that Vanessa would follow in his wake. It was her job now after all.

"Mother once took me to a department store when I was young," he said with a shrug. "So young I could still see, mind, so to say I purchased them myself would be something of a stretch. She still stocks my wardrobe, for the most part at least. I never could seem to get colors correct for some damnable reason." Servants scurried out of their way as they walked, pressing themselves against the sides of the halls to give short bows and curtsies to their lord's heir before returning to their business, until at last they came to one standing before the door to Anton's apartments. Silently, he swung them open, and just as swiftly shut them once more as soon as the pair was inside.

"I shall have to find the roughest I own, and wear them to purchase something suitably delcassé," he decreed, marching through his sparsely decorated sitting room into a bedroom filled with all manner of tinctures and poultices and devices before at last entering his immense walk in closet. He ignored most of the trappings on offer, muttering something to himself that it had a 'sporting air' as he dug through the assembled outfits. With a cry of triumph, he grabbed a wool shirt and its accompanying leather trousers, the outfit a gift from an uncle who hoped Anton might be reinvigorated by horse riding. He had never bothered to actually try.

Modesty had always been a difficult concept for him to grasp, being both unable to be titillated by sight and having spent years of his life tended by those who saw him in far more vulnerable situations than mere undress. Still, he was only half out of his silk and lace shirt before he remembered himself and slid behind a privacy screen. "I do hope this will do. I can't exactly do much worse with what I have on hand."

[Vanessa Quill]

"What, are you afraid the Saint will hear us?" Vanessa asked incredulously. "If they could, they'd have been tossing papers around to try and convince you not to let my raggedy ass within a hundred feet of these hallowed halls." This part at least was delivered with her standard levity, and she seemed to bear no actual issue with changing locations. She followed behind him dutifully, and took her place by his right side. it felt good again to have responsibility, even if it was to ferry a blind man from place to place. Was this what it felt like to live an honest life? Contemplating this, Vanessa followed Anton to his room.

She sat down on the arm of a high backed chair, and crossed her arms while Anton explained himself. He was remarkably smart, though Vanessa had always known that. Things that came to her slowly seemed to flit into Anton's mind without much apparent effort. He would catch on quickly, which was why she was throwing him into the deep end. "Sounds like a plan. Most folk in the Knob won't know the difference between an jumped-up merchant and a proper blueblood. Both of 'em think they piss beer. You might get a few sneers walking into the store, but I can't imagine that'll bother you on account of-" Vanessa trailed off and waved her hand towards him, letting the joke go unfinished. The punchline was there, and she still thought it was funny, but she'd worn it thin enough for one day, she thought.

So unfazed by nudity and undress, that Vanessa hardly blinked when Anton begun to disrobe in front of her. She looked. Of course she looked. Anton was small and frail, but he was still a man. Her aura changed just a bit as her eyes lingered on him, though it returned to normal once he hid himself away again. " Those clothes will be fine. Y'see, the most important thing in the Knob at least is to not give any sniveling prick the time of day. Plus you wouldn't be the first highborn prick that slums around down there. I heard some even try to donate their 'poor clothes' to the unwashed masses once they're done with them. Promise me you won't do that."

[Anton]

Anton had stopped but once on the walk to his room as Vanessa's incredulity drew a short bark of laughter from him, his face split with a true mirthful grin. He otherwise kept his peace for the moment however, for there were some truths appropriate for certain servants to be told, and inappropriate for others to overhear. After having ensconced himself behind the privacy screen, his thoughts once more returned to her statement.

"You know nothing of my ancestor, Vanessa, or of knights. But as you teach me I shall teach you. You would have served well in his court, I assure you. How do you think theses halls became hallowed? Always at the point of a sword - or the barrel of a gun. Nobility is a thin veneer we place above violence, but it is violence that made us noble. Remember that, my knight," he said, his levity having drained away as he continued to speak, the blind man's face taking a somber cast by the time he had finished. He had completed more than speaking by that time, the redressed lord stepping back out from behind the screen. The shirt was too clean and the trousers hardly broken in, but he resembled more a wealthy herdsman putting on his finest clothing than a noble lord come down from his castle. It would have to do for now.

He had noticed that she had looked. Of course he had. And of course she must have known that he would notice. Considering her job was to keep him alive, she would no doubt see more and in worse condition eventually and so he said nothing about it. "I shall need to exchange coins with you beforehand. My own purse contains only gold," he said instead, already realizing how inconvenient certain aspects of his personage would be without corrective action. He had read enough stories of princes turned paupers to know what to do, or at least what not to do. "And no, you have no reason to fear that. I expect I shall have to accrue a wardrobe of... appropriate attire in order to best garb myself for our time together. Or in other words, I expect you shall find other reasons to drag me to the East End."

[Vanessa Quill]

"Never claimed to know much about nobles. I just assumed your ancestors were smart." she said, her light and carefree tone a stark contrast to the somber face Anton wore. " Guess it has to be true though. Couldn't get where you are without at least a couple hundred loyal mad souls." Vanessa was considering his words though, and she scratched her cheek thoughtfully. He was right, of course. Anton so often was. Worse yet, his admission of this fact was in itself noble. Bastard. When had he gone off and gotten smarter than her? Not a high bar to be fair, but she still so often remembered him as that mortified, half-mad child she had protected all of those years ago.

"Well, if it's violence that makes you noble, you'll have a claim on the throne within a few seasons." She said finally, her pondering done. "Something tells me that a man like you in a world like this-" She gestured with her thumb towards one of the windows. "-Is going to have a lot of people that need cutting down." That fact did not wear heavily on Vanessa, and still how she smiled at him. She then looked over his outfit and again her stare lingered for just a moment too long to be wholly cursory, but it was restrained by Vanessa's warped standards.

"Of course you only carry gold. Oh, the whores are going to love you." Vanessa then slipped her coin pouch out from an inner coat pocket and counted out thirty silver avens. Her pouch was full and jangled loudly as she jostled the coins free from it and then handed them over to Anton in three stacks of ten. She didn't quite understand the value in banks, and as such kept most of her money on her. When she was so easily read as to her intentions, Vanessa simply snorted, "Of course I'll drag you downtown any chance I've got. I'm the only knight you have right now, so I'm not letting you out of my sight. If I have to go where you go, it stands to reason you have to go where I go." She said, only half joking. She had much to learn about the relationship between a knight and her lord, but that in itself could be refreshing. "Now let's go get a carriage."

[Anton]

"All castles are built on corpses," Anton replied in a flat voice to Vanessa's musings on nobility. He wondered for a moment if he should leave the notion there, to once more sequester treasonous word and thought. But then again, Vanessa already knew enough to have him burned. "Not just ours," he continued, moving to stand in front of his window. "I have no doubt that you are an efficient and effective killer, but you are not the only one in this world. I am content enough to die of old age instead of upon a pyre." Again, he paused, wondering just how much she knew. How much she even cared.

In the end, what did it matter? What was one more log upon the pile? "Even if I wished to see the Empty Throne filled, that would not be an idle contest. The State has endured through four centuries of fire and blood with death and fear, and they have become exceedingly efficient at it. Think, Vanessa. What do all men with power want? More power. This does not change when you replace a King with a Grand Marshall. The lyrics have changed, but the song stays the same," he said softly, the teenager having taken himself rather seriously. And then he noticed tenor with which his bodyguard was undressing him with her eyes and any sense of maturity evaporated.

With an exasperated roll of his eyes he walked to her side as she counted out the coins, exchanging them for three gold avens he kept within his room. Which was fortunate, as for the most part his currency was paper, which he rather doubted she care for. If she even considered it 'real' money at all. "You're lucky that I want out of this mansion almost as much as you do," he said with a sigh, but the smile in his eyes showed that he was despite himself having a measure of fun. "Now yes, a carriage," he agreed, turning on his heel to leave before suddenly looking down with a frown. His boots were far too fine and far too clean. They would need to replaced too. And then, given that moment to catch its breath, his mind caught up with him.

"The who are going to love me?"

[Vanessa Quill]

"Might not be the only killer, but I know damn well I can kill any one of them that comes after you. That's all that matters. " She retorted, voice firmer than she had intended. She was a capable fighter, but far from the best. The defensive scars scoring the outside of her forearms was proof enough that she didn't have the strongest swordplay or fundamentals, but the fact that she still stood before Anton did imply a certain tenacity at least.

"So you do want to see it filled. Good." Vanessa said with a shrug at his revelation "I was starting to think all these ceremonies were just a way for you family to jerk themselves off. I'm glad I'm not totally off base, at least." She didn't share his serious tone, and her eyes were still lingering on him when she spoke. "And so we get you more power. I'm not sure what's meant to be so difficult about that." She said with a trailing laugh that made it she she knew it wouldn't be so simple. She had intended to go on and continue with this line of conversation, but then she saw the look of shock on Anton's face, and Vanessa grabbed her stomach and doubled over laughing. It echoed through the halls of the estate, and she wheezed with such intensity that it made her see stars.

Finally she recovered, wiping tears from her eyes and leaning back against the wall. She kept one hand on her stomach, the muscles now aching from the strain. "The whores, Anton. The prostitutes, floozies, trollops, harlots. Ladies of the night, or men if that's what you're after. You didn't think I was going to drag you all the way down to the Knob, through a dozen different bars only for you to end up back in your own bed, right?" She shook her head, still recovering from her bout of hideous laughter "I've even let a few of them know that you love blindfolds, so it won't be an issue. Now come on. Let's get you looking like a proper whoremonger."

Gods above, she had been planning this.

[Anton]

"You are used to being able to seize what you want as soon as you want it," Anton said cautiously. responding to everything she had said with one plain observation of fact. "This life will be significantly more complicated. The trick is not to take what you want. It is to make yourself appear as if you deserve it and have other people take it for you." A thin smile appeared on his face as soon as he finished speaking, and then grew and grew until the noble was laughing for the second time that day. No short bark, this was true joy, the sounds transitioning into a harsh cough as his lungs rebelled against him.

"My apologies," he muttered, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. "It was just - I had realized, that is what I had done, isn't it? Despite it all, you actually believe in me, for something I don't even want to run the risk of." Pointedly, he did not say it was something he didn't want. Surely every child had at some point dreamed of themselves sitting upon the Empty Throne, and he was not yet old enough for the fantasies of his youth to have fully faded away. He was, however, painfully aware of what actually attempting that would entail and was somewhat taken aback by Vanessa's exuberance for high treason. Then again, she was a pirate. Removing the man on top of the pile to replace with your own was no doubt a reflex to her after her long years afloat and asoar.

But all of that was distraction from the real problem, which was her repeated insistence that he was going to go to a whorehouse. Still, he doubted he could get away with saying no after the work she had done. "What is your plan to ensure I am not recognized? Not by the girls, I assume you wouldn't take me to any who wouldn't be discrete. I mean by passersby."

[Vanessa Quill]

She knew this life would be more complicated. She knew she would struggle. She knew she would disappoint him. She was not an easy woman to call a friend. She was introspective to know that much, at least. "That's why I have you." Vanessa said. "You're sheltered, but you know how this-" she gestured around towards the relative opulence of the estate, at least compared to her relatively bare lodgings "-sort of thing works. People like you manipulate people. I'm just there for when it doesn't work" She paused, and then seemed to decide that what she said next was worth saying after all. "Ah... you probably know the phrase already. 'S probably in a book somewhere, now that I think about it. A kind word and a gun gets you further than just a kind word." And of course Anton would have understood the concept already. His father was a general, after all. She felt foolish for having at once finding the phrase clever, but the thought had little time to linger before she heard Anton coughing.

She was over to him in a moment, fast as a panther. She brought a hand to the center of his back. "Easy, easy..." She said, her voice a bit too soft for her own liking. She shook it off, her firm demeanor returning. "Don't go keeling over yet. Spare a thought for how bad that would make me look," And then his words sunk in, and she looked at him quizzically. "Course I believe in you. You're strong. Might take decades, I might be dead and buried afore you do, but you'll shake the skies." Again she found herself sounding just a bit too genuine, her cards practically laid on the table instead of close to her chest. Perhaps that is why she was so resoundingly bad at gambling. "Or at least that's what knights get paid to say, aye?" She said, though even Anton would have easily been able to tell it was a poor attempt at giving herself deniability.

Thankfully, Anton changed the subject, and Vanessa took the opportunity as swiftly as she could. "Recognize you? How many friends you go-" She trailed off, and smacked her forehead with an open palm "The party, fuck." The realization didn't slow Vanessa down for long though. "Won't be much of an issue. They'll mostly be talking about me. You'll just be my new cabinboy. We dress you up shabby like that, truss up your hair, and you walk with your head hung down? They wouldn't be able to pick you out of a lineup. " It was true enough, at least. Few in the East End would have been able to describe the Michaelis family with any degree of certainty, let alone be certain that General Michaelis had a son. "Trust me. They'll have their eyes on me. You're important up here. I'm infamous down there."

Infamous. How delightful.

[Anton]

If Anton felt any concern or surprise at Vanessa rushing to his aid, he didn't show it. Then again, why would he? A lifetime spent with doctors, nurses, servants, and every so often his parents rushing towards him in such moments of weakness had inured him to touch and rendered him numb to the realization that she cared. It might not be her job, but he clearly wasn't shocked by her acting like it was. Everyone else in the family's employ had been pressed into this service at one point or another after all. What did it matter that in this case the aid was unnecessary? It was not as if he could expect her to know that. Not yet, at least. Still, he was grateful for her assistance, a soft 'thank you' escaping his lips as she pulled away from him. His body finished with its rebellion, his mind turned once again to her words.

"Manipulate?" Anton said slowly with a light smile on his lips, as if tasting the word. Which he did sometimes do, but that wasn't the point. "The preferable term is inspire," he said with a moment of faux seriousness before the smile returned to his face. "Already having a gun or two by your side tends to help with inspiration. And not just for the obvious reason. A man feels better risking his life for a cause if he thinks the poor fool who signed up before him will die for it instead of him. All the better if those guns are held by people who look like they know what they're doing instead of a fool. Despite what you may think, Vanessa, I do not think you a fool. I wouldn't have sworn you to my service if I did." The ex-pirate wasn't the only one surprised at how genuine they were, the lordling making no secret of his admiration for the killer - and he knew all too well that she was a killer. Which was after all, the cause for his admiration. She was right that a man of his station always needed someone willing to put violence behind words.

"No, not you. You are the furthest from it my brave knight, my final argument," he said in a much softer voice, his smile waning as his thoughts darkly turned upon what debates she would be needed to end.

A clap of his hands ended his dour ruminations, the guise of the young Lord Michaelis dropping as Anton made for his bedroom door. "Well, we'll need shabbier than this for anyone to think myself a cabin boy. A day's shopping, and the whores tomorrow."

[Vanessa Quill]

She wanted so badly to try and prove him wrong, or to simply know he was lying. It was a far greater responsibility for Vanessa to be admired rather than either feared or seen as useful, and already she wanted there to be some assurance that Anton was like any other sniveling noble. But he wasn't, and she could not bear to act as though he was. Any protests to his insistence died on her lips, and instead she simply nodded.

Gods, that smile. There and gone again like a storm in Searing. It was a terrible pity that Anton would never see how damnably confident that little quirk of his lips made him look, Vanessa thought.

"I know you don't think I'm a fool." she responded truthfully. "You're too quick to let fools get too close for too long." She turned her palms up. "Alright, alright, fine. You've inspired me, not manipulated. Satisfied?" She acquiesced lightheartedly, but it was true. Anton had only been a child when they had first met, but the sheer fact that he never seemed to treat her like a monster had an effect on Vanessa unlike any other. Though a different breed, Anton was a fighter just like her, and the scattered interactions she had with Anton were ones she held strongly to. Their warmth was refreshing to a woman whose other prized memories comprised largely of violence. "For the record, it was never an argument. Not with you, my lord." the last two words were given exaggerated gravitas, but the intent behind them was true. Anton had enough to fear, she would never let herself be added to list, for insubordination or otherwise.

Vanessa then moved in front of him when Anton made for the door, and she pulled it open for him and stood outside it. "Good lad, come on." She said, stepping in time beside him as they made their way out of the estate, down the stairs, and Vanessa hailed a carriage.