At Sixes And Sevens [Vanessa]

[Anton]

A N • A W K W A R D • D A Y

Ash 3, 121 Age of Steel

Anton strode across the Windwork's marble lobby with a confident and measured stride, trusting in Vanessa to guide him away from any who might be in the way of his path. He walked briskly for a blind man, as if feeling the need to prove himself to the men whose company he had just departed. Or as if he were doing his best to run away from what just transpired. What had just transpired? That question was already beginning to eat away at him as he tried to hold it at bay, not trusting his thoughts aloud until they were safely within the embrace of the waiting carriage.

If the liveried driver was surprised to see his passengers so recently returned, he didn't show it to the one of them who would've been able to notice. The door was opened and the footrest provided with a clockwork precision as Anton clambered his way back into his seat, the process repeated in reverse as soon as Vanessa had joined him. As soon as he heard the comforting sound of the door closing to the side of him he threw off his cap and veil, letting it rest upon the seat beside him to reveal his newly blossoming scowl.

"Intercessor preserve me I don't even know where to start with that," he finally said when the vehicle was at last in motion, the noise of the wheels on the cobbles seeming to reassure him. "Your choice, I suppose," he told Vanessa as he went to work pulling off his overgarment to reveal the scrapes and bruises from their night on the town. It was barely into Ash, and even he was overdressed, the thin man breathing a sigh of relief as the clothing was unceremoniously thrown atop of his hat and he was at last left in the far more seasonally appropriate shirt and breaches.

"Eitan, Florian, or both," he asked, trusting her to have picked up on her own accord what he had required magic to unravel. His face soured further at that thought, his sightless eyes shifting to meet his bodyguard's own as best he could. "Or shall my chastisement be first?"

[Vanessa Quill]

Vanessa was equally glad to be departing, so she did not mind Anton's more inspired pace. She remained steadfast at his side, and dutifully helped him navigate any potential hazards. There were few, thankfully, what with the windworks being largely empty. She was glad for that, still getting the hang of helping him navigate in public. She had done it before, but when he was younger, and when it had been far more acceptable for him to have practically clung to her arm the entire way.

Her desire to depart was largely the same as his own. The situation had been going so damned well, and then it had gone rotten as quickly as lightning. Sudden spoilings always made Vanessa nervous, as in her line of work they so often preceded bloodshed. While that was not the case here, no threats made or repaid in blood, that inkling of ill tidings still remained. She was glad when she pulled herself into the carriage after Anton, seating herself opposite of him. Shrugging off her large overcoat and rolling up her sleeves, Vanessa leaned back in her seat and shared Anton's frustration. Fresh bruises and surface level cuts lined her arms and peeked out from under her collar where some of them originated further down her chest. Many as there were, they did not seem to bother her.

"Salt and Storms, I don't know either, lad." Vanessa began. "I figured he and the captain were just... Well, fucking." she shook her head, and let out a powerful sigh. "I mean, they are, but that still doesn't explain the half of it.." Another pause while Vanessa decided where to begin. Chastising Anton was appealing, but it could wait. He would not have made such a risk lightly, and the gambit had seemingly gone unnoticed. 'Seemingly' did not stop her from occasionally drawing back the curtain on the carriage and peering out the window to ensure they weren't being followed, and her hand often slipped down again to rest on the pommel of her sword. "Guess we start with Florian. Lost his mom recently, yeah? Know how that goes. Poor kid." Vanessa had only been a child when she had lost her parents, but the void left by their absence at least gave her a sliver of insight into the pain it must have caused Florian.

"Still no reason to go wasting perfectly good strawberries."

[Anton]

"They are, yes, but it's more complicated than just that I fear. But very well, you wished to speak of Florian first, and so we shall," Anton agreed, giving a shrug as he spoke. "I know as much as you do about his mother. Namely that she is dead. Precious little to work with," he continued, trailing off into a mutter.

The entire situation was incredibly bizarre, and far beyond what he was prepared to deal with. Still, it was clear even to the sheltered scion that there were things he didn't know that no doubt gave rise to even further complications. Silently, he thanked the Saint that this was at worst a problem for someone else, and at best an opportunity for himself. The last thought made him uneasy, and he gave a far less silent curse.

"For some damnable reason, I actually care. You didn't see him before, at my party, but he is - he was far more energetic. More fiery. It's strange, seeing him like this. I doubt her death was an expected one, suddenness can make tragedy all the worse." He spoke, but there was a question behind every sentence. Anton knew little of such things, and made no secret of the fact that he was guessing to Vanessa. "Or maybe I am just a fool grasping at straws."

"The strawberries I think I do understand. I selected them because they seemed to be his favorite, it would make sense for there to be an association with his mother." That at least he was confident in, a personal interaction that he actually had experience with! A rare occasion, but a welcome one to be sure.

"But as tragic a loss he's suffered, it's not as if that's the only bizarre thing about him. He's a very curious character, wouldn't you agree?"

[Vanessa Quill]

“You're not a fool.” Vanessa put in, rubbing at an ache in her upper arm. “He just didn't tell us his life story, so now we're left trying to figure it all out. Would the papers have news? If it was sudden there's usually like-” she waved her hand, searching for the word. “Obituaries!” she said, almost triumphantly. “Best I can tell, those rags usually don't sell out so we should be able to find news from the last week or so pretty easily.” the fact that Vanessa could not read yet still remained unsaid. He could simply use his magic to read. Besides, Anton would prefer researching by himself, wouldn't he? It was not as if Vanessa would have been of much use, or so she presumed.

“And it's not a crime to care, lad.” She said. “You said you liked this guy. Good a reason as any to care about him losing a parent.” She adjusted in her seat, leaning against the side of the carriage. “Suppose that makes up for him practically spitting in your eye. I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't have beat someone for that back in the day.” she laughed humorlessly, letting it trail away to silence before she cleared her throat and spoke again. “You're right about it being sudden though. Losing someone quick can make your heart go up like fire.” She knew this from experience, giving Anton's assumptions a bit of backbone based on her own brushes with death.

When Anton remarked on Florian's nature, Vanessa screwed up her face for a moment. “You don't mean like, 'cause he's an abhuman, yeah?” She had never gotten that impression from Anton, but it was always possible that he was his father's son, deep down. “But I guess that does have something to do with it, in the end. A non-human in the corps? Only way that happens is if someone's at the end of the line.” Vanessa's perception was of course colored by lawbreakers and other lowlifes, but there still was yet some truth to her observation.

“Must've gotten collared for something, couldn't wriggle free.” Vanessa guessed, rapping her knuckles against her knee. “But that doesn't track with the two being so... close. Fuck, I'm thinking you're right. Confusing guy, isn't he?”

[Anton]

"I'm uncertain if the obituaries would tell us much. West End, and all," Anton replied, clearly not expecting the papers to give much concern for the lives and deaths of the city's poorest. "But it's worth a shot. Throne knows there's no shortage of Albrechts here though." He somehow doubted Albrecht was their real family name, but it was at least the one the city recognized. And if there was any news of Florian's mother, it would have to be under that one. Besides, how many Albrechts could have died in two weeks?

Vanessa's further comments amused and upset him in equal measure, the lordling giving a snort of laughter before staring off into the middle distance with a conflicted expression. "No, it is not a crime to care, Vanessa. It is worse than a crime, it is a mistake," he explained, falling into a lecturing voice as he quoted one of the ancient masters of realpolitik. "Father tasked me with using Florian, not to worry about him. But perhaps I can satisfy both my father and my traitorous softheartedness with one stroke. I shall have to try, at the least."

Though he could not see the distaste on his bodyguard's face, Anton could still well hear it in her voice. "It's not that he's not human. It's that he is Lysanrin, a mage from the moment of his birth and of the most destructive sort. Don't you understand? The blood of the archmages who broke the world flows through his veins - the blood of traitors twice over, once to their lord and once to the world. He is everything the State despises, and he joined its service willingly. At least, on paper he did," the sheltered noble explained, though his voice trended towards the bashful as he trailed off. "Is there anything I might perhaps have missed about him? Is there a possibility he was coerced before meeting Commander Angevin?"

[Vanessa Quill]

“Y'see-” Vanessa began. “There you go seeing your kindness as a weakness. It's the best weapon you've got, so you'd best learn to use it. Don't think of it as 'using' Florian, think of it as having a friend in a good place. Same's true whether they're hostage-takers or they're real good cooks. You make nice with 'em because you want to, and the services they can provide are a nice little afterthought. It's what you did with me, so you've already got some practice.” Of course that was not a wholly accurate retelling of how the two had become what may loosely be described as 'friends', but Vanessa thought it illustrated the point well enough.


On the matter of Lysanrins, Vanessa sniffed derisively. “So the state a bunch of hypocrites, so what?” She said. “They'll use him up to nothing and toss him in a ditch somewhere. It's what they always do, isn't it? Doesn't necessarily mean he was coerced though, 'cept by circumstance.You've heard about what it's like for a commoner, and 'cause of me you've even got a taste of what it feels like.” She laughed again, dry and humorless.

In truth it brought her no joy to know that she had failed to keep him safe. The smattering of bruises themselves were a solemn reminder for her to remain vigilant. She did not let the feeling linger, instead focusing on the task at hand.

Vanessa continued, never being one to mince words, especially not with Anton. “But that doesn't mean you'll ever understand it. It's like a boot always pushing down on your neck. Some days it's just resting, other days you're sure it wants to see you dead. You've got it rough kid, make no mistake, but you're flush with coin.” While her tone itself didn't change, it was clear enough that now she was speaking from experience rather than trying to grasp at possibilities. There was also no judgment in her voice, a rarity, to be sure. “Desperation makes you do foolish things like join the corps, or steal an airship.” The last line was followed by a more genuine chuckle, at least.

[Anton]

"That would require him to consider me a friend," Anton pointed out, a self effacing grin gracing his face. "Something tells me that he had a rather better impression upon me than I on him. I find it likely that as far as he's concerned I am an eccentric fop who at least does not call him a slur. A start, I suppose, but not the most promising one. Far less certain of any eventual benefit than exploiting the situation, which is what I ought to be doing here."

With a shrug, Anton's mind turned once more upon the State, a derisive snort escaping him. There was no one he trusted more with his feelings on this subject than Vanessa, for her own fate was inextricably tied up in his. To say nothing of the fact that should the true extent of her crimes against Zaichaer ever be disclosed she would at very least be hung. "He will be lucky if he ends up in a ditch. Though he didn't come out and say it, it seems likely that they are having him use his magic. No, I fear his fate is the pyre, and he is clever enough to have come to the same conclusion. That's before considering his youth."

The scion at last seemed to wilt before Vanessa, turning his head aside to face the carriage door. "You are once more correct though. I have never been truly pressed to the edge of desperation, not the way he has. Florian made that clear enough when we talked," he admitted, clearly embarrassed at the memory. "If things are truly so dire though... I wonder how long the status quo can hold. A man desperate enough to accept certain death in the future for bread now is a dangerous man. Is the whole of the West End so precarious?"

[Vanessa Quill]

“A damn good start, considering what most people would call him.” Vanessa replied. “You could exploit the situation, sure, but what was that you told me? You want to convince people to do things for you because they want to, and so we start here.” She pulled herself upright in her seat again, pausing for only a moment before she continued. “Even your father knew that threats and exploitation only got him so far.” Or at least, that is why she assumed she was still alive. For a woman of her skills, it was difficult to imagine that honor or loyalty to a deal played into it.

“Oh yeah, it's all set to blow. The Knob is the worst of it by far.” Vanessa explained. “Can't really fight against an army, so everyone just starts in on each other. Makes recruiting easy when you get to wear a uniform like a shield. You're too young to remember this, but I'm sure you know about the Gateway disaster.” Vanessa's throat grew tight for a moment, the words coming more slowly as she went on. “They blew up an entire neighborhood for some mages. Made a lot of people think if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. At least that way you're safe, so long as you don't mind damning anyone else.”

Vanessa cleared her throat pointedly, pushing thoughts of her childhood out of her mind. “Not everyone though. Some people got it good and some try to make life better for others, if you can believe that.” Vanessa offered a shrug. “I think it's primed to go up again myself. This plague's got people scared, and the government ain't doing shit to help except burn more witches.” She did not present her opinion with her usual lust for violence, but neither did she seem truly pained by the idea.

“But what about the Captain?” Vanessa asked, changing the subject at least for a moment. “I was sure he was a proper prick, but Florian seemed to like the guy. He was confused when I asked if he was going to be okay with him after his fit. Unreal.” Vanessa shook her head. “A captain with a bleeding heart? His crew will eat him alive if things ever go south."

[Anton]

"That only works if someone can be convinced, or their interests aligned with my own. Easier said than done on both counts." It was not that he had written the Lysanrin off entirely, far from it, but rather that he had no idea why the airman did anything that he did. Even now he was a mystery, his motivations ranging from the absurd to the inscrutable in the lordling's view. Understanding was the beginning of both cooperation and exploitation, and Anton refused to make a move towards either until he had some measure of it.

Vanessa's explanation only deepened his distaste, the noble taking his sense of duty to the people of Zaichaer seriously despite his secluded and comfortable upbringing locked away in his ivory tower. "A reign of terror and violence cannot stand forever. The State may have endured this long by taking advantage of superstition and division, but even that has its limits. When the people are neglected by the State and the destitute themselves make up the ranks of the military, the State's control of violence becomes precarious at best," he said, speaking his own thoughts aloud rather than conveying anything close to settled theory. "Sorry. That turned into a lecture."

"First off, he's only a Commander and the executive officer of his ship, not the Captain. I suppose I don't actually know whether or not pirate ships have XOs," he explained, pursing his lips for a moment before continuing on. "Second off, he is a recognized son of Leir Angevin and by all rights a legitimate claimant to the Empty Throne, not a prick. Granted, one of several, and far from the strongest, but still royal enough for even father to bow to him," he continued, speaking somewhat circumspectly to avoid outright stating the truth of the man's heritage to the pirate. He somehow doubted she would understand, the same as with Florian.

"Though if he has rubbed you the wrong way perhaps I should reevaluate that, your instincts have proven themselves enough in the past. Especially towards people. Regardless, it seems obvious enough that he's either extremely confident in himself, or entirely unaware of the missteps he has already made. He reveals much, certainly more than I would expect from a Warden." A paranoid streak in Anton's mind wondered if perhaps Eitan instead revealed exactly as much as he intended to, but pursuing that line of thinking would only paralyze him.

[Vanessa Quill]

Vanessa let the lecture go on, glad to hear her thoughts echoed by a noble. A part of her thought he might dismiss her notion, or offer a rebuttal. "No, you're right. I heard it from a friend once, years back. He said to me that if fear is the only tool you have, you can't control folk who aren't afraid anymore." After that, Vanessa let the conversation trail on to other topics.

On the matter of Eitan's rank, Vanessa made a revelatory exhale. "Ah, that explains a bit. Still, second in command for a first-of-her-kind ship..." She said, the pieces coming together in her mind. "So his old man is the captain then, eh? Has to be. No other explanation for it, unless he killed someone." She pondered that possibility for only a moment before discarding it. "Nah, when you're that blue-blooded you don't need to gut someone for a ship. Just ask dear ol' dad and he'll trot one right out for you, eh?" There was a touch of bitterness to her words, but only just.

And then Vanessa registered Anton's statement about his parentage, and she could not keep from laughing. "He's a bastard!" She guessed correctly. "No trueborn son has to say they're 'recognized'. Can't fool me, boy." But that revelation did little to actually clarify anything. The bastards she knew were vindictive men with chips on their shoulders and delusions of grandeur. Despite what she thought of a Eitan commanding an airship, she could not say she thought that of him. "But one that was recognized?" Vanessa whistled. "Must've done something right."

"A Warden with loose lips? We're sure we're not meant to be exploiting him?" Vanessa offered up half seriously. "You already used your 'abilities' around him. May as well get his ass drunk and see what state secrets we can learn."