That's What She Said

[Luca Abernathy]

Luca seethed.

Admittedly, Luca's version of seething was not quite the manly picture of rage one might expect from such an opening statement. There was no posturing, no dramatic acts of violence with which to spice up a description of his present discontent. In Luca's case, he was sprawled out shirtless upon his bed whilst his physician Reynard fussed at the healing wounds on the nobleman's back. Indeed, his one act of manly rage was to limply toss a scrunched up copy of that dangerously mad girl Isyrion's latest announcement at his manservant Conrad, where the large Undenvakian sat patiently by the side of Luca's bed. Conrad stoically let the rage-propelled propaganda bounce off his broad-and-most-definitely-manly chest and land on his lap.

Luca sucked in a breath and puffed out his cheeks, but what was about to become the commencement of the injured dandy's lengthy rant over the self-styled 'Navarre' was temporarily derailed and converted into a hearty yelp. Reynard's application of strong disinfectants to those areas punctured by potshards at the disastrous Gala were, in Luca's opinion, most definitely not conducive to either a pleasant morning or an uninterrupted diatribe. "Dash it all, Reynard, that stuff stings!" Reynard said nothing, his mouth sealed - and nerves soothed - by the expedience of chewing on qhat while he worked.

Conrad unfurled the crumpled paper and read it. The large man hrmed and tutted as he examined Navarre's announcement before stating in the rumbling bass voice Luca enjoyed so much "Yes, is being typical of her other pamphlets. But miss Lorenna, Luca, she is not being dead. What do you plan to do?" The dandy gritted his teeth a moment while the pain in his back eased, then said "For now, my dear fellow, we do nothing. Let them think Lorenna is dead and wonder why the body has gone astray. She'll be safer that way for the moment, I think. I don't trust the madwoman Isyrion as far as Reynard could throw her, and don't want Lorenna back in her clutches. I'd really like to know what in the blazes my Aunt and Uncle were thinking, the damn fools, getting Lorenna involved in such nonsense. I know they've had a raging erection for courting with the Marquelis family over trade agreements, and no doubt they want to get a foothold in the Ministry of Education with all the printing opportunities and whatnot, but this is ridiculous."

Luca winced as Reynard continued his efforts before continuing "But the icing on the cake is this damn pamphlet. It jolly well shits me that she'd use cousin Lor's supposed death to bolster her horrible little hobby of inciting hatred among the city's moronic masses. And that my damned family would let her do so is an outrage." Conrad had pursed his lips at Luca's vulgarities, but said nothing. He'd long given up on that particular battle, even if it wasn't a very attractive trait in his personal opinion. Besides, Luca had an excuse this time. Conrad was most concerned that Luca, having got his dudgeon well and truly up high, was going to do something disastrously flamboyant and precipitous.

Reynard finished his ministrations and muttered around a mouthful of qhat "Bandages". Luca flumped his face into his pillow "No." His personal physician looked at Conrad, who sighed and got to his feet "Luca, darling, bandages are needed for the healing." Luca sulked "No. The ointment is bad enough without wrapping scratchy peasant cloth all around my delicate body." Conrad gently leaned over and took a hold of Luca's hips. "If you are not helping, Luca, I can be moving you myself." And not in the normal fun way, thanks to Reynards instructions to the contrary. Which had also led to Luca's foul mood.

---


Later in the day Luca felt recovered from the morning's ordeal, the same one repeated every day since the Gala. He was bandaged, dressed, had eaten a large breakfast, and had drunk two glasses of medicinal brandy to get over the outrageous treatment he'd suffered in the name of standard medical practice. Conrad had made himself scarce in the aftermath of the bandaging, which was for the best, and Reynard had spent the rest of the morning looking after Lorenna.

Reynard eventually announced that Lorenna was ready for visitors, and Luca made haste upstairs, collecting fresh flowers on the way. Conrad and Reynard had re-purposed one of the the guest-rooms into a comfortable ad-hoc medical ward where Lorenna lay and Reynard attended to her well-being. It was a nice room, picked by Reynard because it received the sun all day. On this particular afternoon Lorenna was propped up with cushions, her body wrapped in bandaging, and looking thoroughly miserable. Her misery was accentuated, in Luca's opinion, by the patch of gauze over her right cheek where a chunk of unrecognisable metal had torn her flesh. Luca internally summed up her expression as a particularly soulful rendition of 'Why Me?!'. The poor darling would never be quite so pretty again, worst luck. For all Marn's medical enlightenment, there was only so much it could do for scarring, and the Abernathys didn't really hold well with the notion of magical healing, Luca included.

Conrad had called Luca out on the issue of magical healing over the past few days, alongside his pleas to have Doctor Sekhara come visit to offer her special healing services. The man had even had the gall to level accusations of hypocrisy at him. Luca had replied quite curtly that he'd '...happily fuck an elf, and enjoy every moment of it, but there is no way I'd want one using magic around me or my family. It's deucedly unnatural, unwise, and that's an end to it.' It was at present a point of contention between the two men, but Conrad had subsided. Although an Eyropan, he'd become accustomed enough to Marn's backwards views on magic in general to keep a silent tongue on the subject at most times. The strange prejudice formed a stark contrast, in Conrad's opinion, to some of Marn's other societal advancements.

Luca replaced the previous days flowers, bumbling about with small-talk while Lorenna silently watched. Today Lorenna forwent attempts at small talk in return. She'd recovered enough to want answers. In fact, she was distressingly direct about it, to Luca's regret and outright asked "What happened at the Gala?" Reynard had kept her free of mirrors, but the wounds on her side and pain in general had given her a solid clue of the current state of things. Luca sighed "I'm still not entirely sure, coz. You've read the Tattler. You know about as much as I know. The people on the wall had it worse. Personally, I think it's a shame it wasn't that bint Isyrion getting blasted by exploding decorations, rather than you and I."

Lorenna knew she wasn't the brightest person around. Her parents had certainly not been reticent on reminding her of that. But it seemed strange that Navarre had remained untouched, and she said as much, adding "What do you think, Luca?" The dandy had no idea what he thought, besides the obvious fact that Isyrion needed locking up. "I think my family are a bunch of idiots for having anything to do with that dratted Vesurian girl. And I'd not be surprised if those Marquelis prigs are partly to blame. Stuck up academics the lot of them."

The pain in her side was constant, even with the pain-relievers Reynard had provided, but Lorenna wasn't in the mood to let the conversation drift "But what if it's Navarre's doing? Not Isyrion's? I told you Lord Marquelis refers to them as different people. What if Navarre was angry with Isyrion's supporters for some reason? Lord Marquelis almost killed Ashleigh when he started arguing with Isyrion one time." Luca rubbed the back of his neck in vexation. Politics had always bored him, except when it resulted in a scandal, so he wasn't as up to date on matters between his family and the Marquelis lot as he'd like to have been at that moment. He decided to err on the side of vagueness "I suppose that could be it, coz. But maybe you'd better rest some more."

The effort of talking, and the efficacy of her medication, was causing Lorenna to become drowsy. However, she recognised Luca's tone of voice and took umbrage. She wasn't feeling well enough to properly attempt 'angry and assertive', but she managed to pluck a decent amount of 'snippy' from a hidden reservoir of determination "And maybe you should find out why this has happened to me, because the Guards did nothing! No arrests apart from Navarre, and she was released without a word. You keep on telling me you are oh-so-clever and well-connected, but here you are arranging flowers and talking about how nice the breeze is. Do something Luca, because I can't!"

Lorenna's eyes teared up during her outburst, and she slumped back against the cushions. Luca had always found Lorenna's little tantrums to be adorable yet, up until now, they had never really affected him. But then again, she'd never tried it after getting torn up by explosive pot plants, so perhaps it was less of a surprise when he found himself feeling genuinely pressured. The dandy tried to dissuade her "Look I can't just... It isn't as easy as..." but her big round waterlogged eyes had him pinned down "Dash it all Lorenna, stop staring at me like that! Fine, I'll ask some questions among some friends, see if anyone knows anything. This kind of thing is not healthy, Lorenna! We should be keeping our noses well out of this. One near-death experience should have been enough!" Luca was irked because he knew that she'd managed to get her way. Why did she then have to go and smile like he'd personally saved her from some tragic fate? He'd have much preferred a triumphant smirk or gloating smile. Now he had no choice but to follow through on his promise or end up feeling like a right cad. The things a man does for family.

---

And so it was all Lorenna's fault that, a good week after the Gala, Luca and Conrad entered that fine home to entertainment and egalitarian enterprise known as the Bitch's Bite. Luca hadn't wanted Conrad along, as the man was as prissy as he was large, but Conrad had insisted he come to watch out for Luca's well-being. Luca ordered brandy for himself and his companion, and asked for word to reach Jacel that he had come in to buy his friend a drink, and maybe a little bit more than that. The dandy made it clear he'd be in all afternoon, and would wait on Jacel's convenience.

Luca took a seat and made himself as comfortable as he could with an injured back whilst Conrad hunched over the table looking about as uncomfortable as a large muscle-bound man can manage. "Oh for pity's sake, Conrad, stop looking like a child sent to his room for bad behaviour. You know I like this place, so stop pouting and learn to like it as well. Honestly, this is why I don't normally invite you here." Conrad muttered "They are staring at us. I am not liking it much". The manservant glowered at his brandy glass and Luca rolled his eyes. "Honestly, of course they are staring. You get used to it. Now drink up and gather some courage so you can survive the horrors of a social outing." Conrad's retort was pithy, but Luca wasn't paying attention. He was too busy making eyes at one of the serving girls for the purpose of making Conrad jealous enough to stop worrying about his surroundings. That, and flirting to the accompaniment of Conrad's sulks was a pleasant enough diversion while waiting for Jacel to appear.

[Jacel Varti]

A mountainous mess of papers covered Jacel’s desk. He groaned, shoving his thick fingers into his face and brushing sweat from his brow. Heavy bags resided under his eyes, and his normally immaculate blue coat was lopsided, one part of the collar brushing against his cheek while the other only barely rested on his shoulder. It was apparent the week had not been kind to him, even though he had escaped any harm from the bombings.

Information on the group claiming responsibility, this Dragon Awakened, was scarce but in high demand for obvious reasons. He had one thing working to his advantage: Marn was a small city. There weren’t a huge number of groups who could have provided this level of support. Paragon was the obvious choice, as they’d been mobilizing for some time, growing increasingly paranoid in the distribution of their papers as well as aggressive in their ousting of other drug dealing operations. The latter had been a thorn in the side of Jacel personally on two separate occasions; he was a bit afraid to retaliate against those who had blown up as much of the city as they had, but he burned to beyond measure. The dissonance did not help his mood, worn down by a week of double-checking every little fact he had kept on the distribution of the papers. He placated himself by swearing his first offer was going to the guard the moment he got something tangible.

As he dropped his hand to his side, he felt a nudge reminding him that he wasn’t the only one who needed to be placated. He grabbed another piece of meat and fed Bitch without even glancing down at her. The sounds of chewing, tearing, and growling failed to distract him from the clutter of evidence on his desk, as he was familiar with the assortment of sounds from decades of ownership. Were it not for the chaos inflicted upon the city, this might have been a comfortable day.

Cerranel opened the door, tilting Jacel’s weary eyes up to examine him. The exiled elf from Darleone, he looked remarkably well off considering recent events. He bounced around with a spring in his step that Jacel rarely saw among his employees. Jacel wasn’t too tired to make inferences; the bastard had probably had fun bullying some poor street urchin, easy pickings now that the curfew left them in more predictable places.

“What is it you want, Cerranel?” Jacel asked impatiently. He had no time for this.

“Someone’s no fun today,” the younger elf replied, his voice high and tilting. Was he high? That wasn’t like him. Sure, it had happened before, but Cerranel’s high was generally found in some manner of petty cruelty. “Your prissy friend is here to see you, but it sounds like this is more than a visit.”

Jacel sent a sideways glance Cerranel’s way. Sure, Luca looked upper class, but calling him “prissy” might be a bit of stretch. A tired grin forced its way onto Jacel’s face. “You know his line of work, don’t you?”

“Nah, not my problem.”

Jacel shrugged. Cerranel would probably enjoy some of Luca’s merchandise, but Jacel wasn’t about to educate those who didn’t care to learn. “Alright. Tell him I’ll be out in a couple of minutes.” He thought about it. “Actually, tell Medico to do it.” Medico was a bit more stable. He didn't want his friend to need to deal with Cerranel. Jacel began the arduous process of organizing and cleaning himself up.

A visit to the washroom and a cursory desk cleaning later, Jacel was prepared. Straightening his coat as a final measure, he shouldered his way through the side doors leading into the main room and didn’t have much trouble spotting Luca at the bar. He did tend to draw looks from his usual patrons and was hardly one to dress subtle regardless. Jacel limped over to Luca and slapped his synevive friend on the back.

“It’s good to see you, Luca. After the bombings I’d considered stopping by to see if you made it out okay, but damn if I haven’t been kept too busy to follow through. They’ve left Marn in the same condition as the bowel movements of a dead dog: lurching along in a panic when everyone would rather they didn’t.” Not his best joke, but one couldn’t expect too much from him, given the circumstances. He eyed Luca’s companion. “And who’s this? You’ll have to introduce us before we move on to business.”

[Luca Abernathy]

Luca had to bite back the urge to scream when his partner in licentiousness slapped him on his wounded back. He managed to convert it into a distorted laugh, forced through gritted teeth and a fixed smile. And when Conrad began the motions of taking offence on his behalf, his elbow swiftly found his manservant's ribs.

Having somehow managed to prevent things from going entirely to shit before the meeting could even get started, Luca gasped out "Have some bleeding mercy, old bean, you'll tear the stitches and undo all of Reynard's hard work this morning. Not to mention I don't want another waistcoat ruined with my own blood. It was only a few days ago my back got shredded by blasted potplants, you know." Luca thought a moment, then added with a ghastly smile "Pun intended."

Voice still strained by the agony running up and down his back, Luca patted Conrad on the shoulder and introduced him "This is Conrad, my manservant and occasional tailor when I want something with Eyropan flair. He's a little overprotective at the moment, but then again, these are apparently dangerous times if you read the Tattler. Conrad, be a polite fellow and introduce yourself"

Conrad, stone-faced, rumbled "A pleasure to make your acquaintance" while making pointed glances at Luca's back. Luca sighed "Don't mind him Jacel. Seems his part of Eyropa never added the notion of humour into their upbringing. If he can't unwind, then he can jolly well sit here and pout while we speak somewhere else." Conrad looked affronted by that, but said nothing more. Luca had forewarned him of what to expect. It was his own fault for thinking it exaggeration.

Luca winced slightly as he started to raise his glass again, then thought the better of it in the short term. He'd give himself another minute before he tried moving after that backslap "But it's that jolly mess at the Gala I'm here about. Entire thing reeks more than that aforementioned dog's bowel movement, wot. And I'm feeling a bit peeved about the entire affair. Wanted to get your thoughts on it all, privately as it were, my dear fellow." Luca decided to brave the pain after all, in order to drain the entire contents of his glass at once.

[Jacel Varti]

Jacel winced in sympathy, withdrawing his erroneous hand as swiftly as he had brought it in. He really should have checked up on Luca sooner. A few dozen excuses jumped to his mind, ranging from his workload to the stares he got when he went uptown, but he dismissed them all as immaterial. “Fuck me, my mistake. I’ll endeavor to keep the contact to a minimum, promise on my knife-ears.”

Still feeling a bit guilty, Jacel sat in a stool beside Luca. His hands curled into his lap. When the bombings were mentioned, his eyes perked up. “Aye, the tattler’s been kicking up a storm, but…” Jacel considered mentioning the newspaper paragon, but figured it was better not to take chances. He was reasonably safe, especially here in his own den, but a criminal was a criminal. If a particularly upstanding guard just happened by, who knew what fate might befall him? It was the risk of working in an autocracy.

“Heh, private company would be for the best on this topic. You feel good to walk back to the ol’ office? I’d support ya, but…” Jacel pushed his bad leg on the wood floor to create a scraping sound before he shrugged. “I suppose your man Conrad’ll have to do.”

Jacel beamed at Conrad, baring a little bit more of his teeth than even his usual pearly white grin might have displayed. Seeing the bloke’s uncomfortable fidgeting just made Jacel want to tease the fellow more, maybe it would eventually work that stick out of his ass. Luca would have to understand, this was Jacel's service to the greater good!

[Luca Abernathy]

Luca waved a hand weakly "Oh, no problem old bean, what's a bit of blood between friends, eh? What do those prick guard trainers call it? Character building, I think. Something revoltingly smug like that, I'm sure." Luca rallied himself properly and added "Besides, it's jolly good to know folks can't immediately tell I've been through a dashed sausage-grinder. The old stiff upper lip, manly bravado, and all that stuff."

That, and brandy, which Luca poured himself another glass of. Medicinal, y'know, to help him make it to Jacel's office. And carrying the brandy bottle in the other hand helped balance him properly as he shooed off an attempt by Conrad to assist him. "No, look Conrad, I told you. I'm a wounded hero in this scenario, not a crippled old man, and I've got to walk with gravitas and dignity to suit the role. Oh please don't sulk. I'll make it up to you later, I promise."

Conrad grumbled, feeling even more prickled than usual given how he was presently outnumbered by Luca and Jacel. "I am not in sulk, Luca, but Reynard was saying that you should not be out of..." Luca cut him off glibly as they made their way towards Jacel's office "What Reynard doesn't know can't hurt him."

The large manservant glowered "It is not being Reynard's hurting that concerns me, but your own." Luca glanced towards Jacel with a 'do you see what I have to put up with?!' roll of the eyes as he replied "Dash it all, Conrad! 'Wounded hero', not 'cripple'. Act accordingly. Are we clear?" Conrad grunted his grudging acknowledgement. Luca was, quite frankly, relieved when they reached his elven friend's office "Well my dear fellow, we are out of earshot of pesky authority types, and Conrad is nothing if not the strong silent type. Can I add, the topic being tangentially apropos, that I am jolly glad that fortune preserved you from the worst those violent pot plants had to offer. Can't imagine how embarrassing it would be to have 'death by floral displays' on one's epitaph."

[Jacel Varti]

“If it’s a rose that takes me, I’ll call it several names that don’t sound all too sweet.” Jacel replied glibly. “But here’s hoping I’m not left with another injury. The one’s enough. You’re expected to recover?”

Jacel had already cleaned off the desk, but he now realized Luca would probably prefer a chair. He walked over to the side where he had thrown the extra so it wouldn’t get in his way during his fervent investigation into the events of the gala. On the way, he improvised and used it as a cane to support himself. Compensation for his leg was a habit, nowadays.

That secured, he motioned for Luca to take a seat as he lurched back around the table and swung into his own. The chair creaked in protest, leaving Jacel feeling oddly insulted. He twitched his lip as he spun the seat roughly, gaining a small measure of revenge as it scraped across the wooden floor.

He had an inkling he already knew why Luca was here. His little spy, Mioco, had overheard Lorenna discussing some very sensitive matters with her cousin. He was surprised to see Luca here over the matter, having had him pegged for a more not-my-problem type previously. Perhaps the bombings had awoken something daring in him.

If it meant a good friend of his could use his services, he supposed there wasn’t a problem. Rather than beat around the bush, Jacel decided to cut to the chase. Retrieving relevant files from his drawer, particularly a printed copy of Navarre’s increasingly concerned government file, he stated, “At a guess, you’d be here about the comments your cous’ made? Troubling business.”

[Luca Abernathy]

Luca accepted the offered seat with gratitude, and let Conrad fuss around to help him into it. "Oh yes, old bean, Reynard seems confident I'll be fine within a month or two. But it is a deuced detriment to my social life."

While Jacel seated himself, Luca poured himself another brandy then offered the bottle to Jacel. Luca was pretty sure he'd spotted a cleanish glass hidden behind a pile of the elf's paperwork. The dandy enjoyed a slower sip of the liquid while Jacel showed a few of his cards.

It didn't surprise Luca that Jacel knew what was on his mind. Probably even knew already that Lorenna wasn't dead, but in the name of partnership Luca decided to show his hand without dancing around. "You're right on the mark, my dear fellow. Lorenna's in quite the tizzy at present. Reynard has been doing fine work keeping her in the world of the living, despite the pamphlet currently doing the rounds."

Luca had another contemplative sip of brandy before continuing "Now, you know me, Jacel. Not usually the crusading type, unless the conquest is inside the bedroom, wot." Luca grimaced slightly. He'd had little chance for bedroom fun in the past week, thanks to Reynard and Conrad conspiring against him. The cock-blocking bastards. "But this matter has gone a step beyond my just waving a hand and gallivanting back to the soirees." It really had, come to think of it. Luca shook his head slightly. This really wasn't like him.

But how to explain it? Even Luca wasn't quite certain what had him feeling all proactive and loquacious on the matter. It was more than just petty anger, surely. An image of Lorenna's pleading face surfaced momentarily, but Luca deliberately shoved it back into a mental attic somewhere. He didn't do things for compassion, dammit. "It's not just that the Isyrion bitch is as fucking mad as a rabid dog and needs being locked up and muzzled. It's not just that me and mine got peppered with fucking potshards."

Oh come now, Luca castigated himself, what was this role he was playing at? A trend towards righteous indignation? How direly gauche. "Well, maybe there is a dash of that in there somewhere," Luca conceded "but mostly, I want to use this as a means to somehow get enough dirt on either those fucking Marquelis prigs supporting the Vesurion whore, or Lorenna's ridiculous parents, to be able to sever any Abernathy involvement with Isyrion's mad games." Yes, that was more in keeping with a proper state of mind. Good brandy, that, helpul to clarity of thought. "...and if fortune is really smiling, I'd like to see Isyrion restrained and sedated in the asylum for the rest of her mad life."

Luca downed the rest of his glass "So there's my angle on all this, Jacel. A big old political tangle in need of a quiet knife taken to the knots. What do you make of it all?" To the side, Conrad remained stone-faced, but his worse fears were confirmed. Luca appeared to be taking a jump into the Ofriyu with no safety rope.

[Jacel Varti]

Jacel tapped his chin with one of his wide fingers, his eyes wandering up to the light that hung above the trio of conspirators. He was eager to help Luca in whatever way he could, but there were economic considerations that had to be taken into account first. Isyroin was growing in power and had wealthier, more influential friends. Luca was probably wise to target her through them. Isyrion had made many more powerful enemies, and the guard was itching for an excuse to take her out. Surely one of the more promotion hungry fellows would be willing to pay for something incriminating. Ideally, one with a rich synevive or descendant background.

His eyes wandered back down to Luca, who had been acting awfully incensed about Isyrion’s movement. Jacel wondered if it would be reasonable to expect Luca to keep whatever they uncovered under wraps until the time was right and the profit was high. With the way he’d been sounding, it was as if he wanted to bash down Isyrion’s door like a knight of legend. Fortunately, Luca’s newfound drive hadn’t left him that dense.

“I’d say it sounds like there is a healthy green glow at the end of this all for the Bite.” He paused, taking in Luca’s reaction. “You understand that I’d have to sell whatever we turn up? I can’t invest resources and take risks like you’re askin’ me to without expecting to profit from it. It goes without sayin’ I wouldn’t turn around and stay silent for a bribe from the madwoman herself,” he indulged Luca by acknowledging Navarre’s insanity, but it was with a smirk that he continued as he stated “but the principle is still there, and I’m nothin’ if not a man of principle.”

[Luca Abernathy]

Oh dear, had he really come across so self-righteously that Jacel had needed to raise the question of bishani? Maybe he had had just a little bit too much of the brandy. Luca set his glass to one side at the extremity of his reach. Conrad surreptitiously slipped it further until it was out of his master's reach entirely "My dear chap, when have I ever asked for charity? Sell the information to whomever you wish, though I'd appreciate first claim on purchase rights. And if an offer is made from a party I've expressed my opposition to, I hope I'd be given the opportunity to make a counter-offer."

Luca shrugged slightly, then regretted it immediately "Honestly, this is a nuisance of a situation for me. It's all Lorenna's parents' bloody fault for getting Lorenna caught in the firing line here, but the blood has been spilled, and she's gone and made it a matter of principle for me as well. Worst luck." Luca went to reach for the brandy glass again only to realise Conrad had moved it. The nobleman scowled slightly as he added "It's not like there's another Abernathy with the balls to say a fervent 'fuck you' in the face of social norms at a time like this, wot."

Luca quietly ignored the fact he'd also been caught in the line of fire. Not that the horrible sting and itching from his stitches and bandages were making that an easy task. It was what it was, and Luca prided himself on being above that kind of banal woe-is-me-ishness. His life was meant to be an exciting and racy narrative, filled with hedonism, a dash of action, and more than just hints of salacious scandal. Not for Luca were the dull and humdrum antics of the hoi polloi: if he was going to do something, then it was going to be done with appropriate style and flamboyance.

The dandy concluded his thoughts by stating "But leaving the catalyst for all this aside, in a nutshell, this is strictly business. Ideally, I get to fuck over Lorenna's parents and Isyrion all at once while preserving Abernathy neutrality. You get to make some profit and/or get hooks into a crustier part of the upper crust." Luca grinned "And all of that should let me continue my lifestyle unimpeded by Lorenna's parents' nonsensical attempts to enter politics. Keep in mind: the day the whole of the Abernathys turn into Puradyne fanatics is the day they start actively interfering in my delightful little soirees and sordid sidelines - and that would reduce the profit margins for both of us, old bean."

[Jacel Varti]

Jacel smiled warmly, pleased to discover that he hadn’t been giving Luca enough credit. In his relief, he finally reached out to grab the glass Luca had graciously poured him. Between the sips at the bottle, he informed Luca, “I’m glad to see Teonidus spared your wits in the blast. Had me worried there, for a moment.”

He took a longer drink as he considered, leaning back a bit into his chair as he furrowed his eyebrows together. It didn’t take him too long to reach his conclusion. “You sell it well. I’ll do what I can to look into it.”

His drink set momentarily aside, the elf’s free hands came together contemplatively. Isyrion’s withdrawal from public appearances might make some parts of this more difficult, but it would also blind her. She was unlikely to learn of their little investigation, and if she did, would likely be more concerned with the more official types poking around her business. He wondered if she even knew who he was; the child of an aristocrat like Vesurian might well be oblivious. As far as Jacel knew, her criminal connections were rather low. It wasn’t as if he’d received a formal invitation to the Gala, after all.

Being beneath notice galled him, but he was prepared to take what advantages he could. He pulled out even more pieces of paper, undoing all the work he had done to clean within moments. There were three leads he had that stood out. First was the events at the Gala; the handling of the flowerpots was naturally suspect. If Isyrion was the guilty party, out of some misguided attempt to create sympathy for her cause, finding solid evidence of that would be all they needed. Modestine’s murder was next on the list and had similar possible motives. In either case, it was equally possible Paragon was responsible. Finally, there was the loose narrative about Navarre and Isyrion being truly separate individuals. Her detractors had called her mad over the matter before. It was due time he looked into exactly what had caused the name change. It was starting to sound like more than simple madness.

The elf made a mental note not to get too carried away with focusing on that line of inquiry. He’d been wrong before, and sometimes looking for something too hard caused a fellow to see evidence that wasn’t really there. Despite that, Lorenna’s words were the easiest to follow up on with Luca right here.

“In the interests of helpin’ this along, why don’t we go over everything you know about Isyrion. If Lorenna let anything like that slip before, I want to know about it.” He tapped his pen to his chin, mulling over what Mioco had overheard. “Actually, it might be best if we went and spoke with her later. If we could get her to recall what she overheard, it’d be that much easier to dig up reliable leads. She well enough to give a first-hand account when we’re done here?”

[Navarre]

As soon as her cousin shut the door behind him, Lorenna collapsed against her pillow and closed her eyes. The medication had already left her drowsy, and that tantrum drained the little energy she had left. But she could sleep with her mind at ease – sort of, anyway – now that she knew Luca would look into her suspicions. Even if it turned out to be a wild goose chase, she didn't want to dismiss such potentially critical information without a little investigation.

She tried her hardest to sleep, but memories of Father's conversation with Alexander filled her mind. It was like one of those damned geometry problems from her school days: she could barely wrap her head around them, but not being able to make sense of them bothered her endlessly. If only there was an instructor around to help her with this doozy...

Wait.

Maybe there was.

Lorenna quickly sat up, then winced and gritted her teeth as pain surged through her chest. “Yeah, no more of that. Stupid Lorenna...” she muttered.

Okay, so maybe Doctor Carm wasn't around to teach her geometry anymore, mainly because that horse kicked him in the head and killed him, but she remembered a little of what he taught her. What were those stupid problems he always lectured her about getting wrong? Proofs, or something – where you had to collect evidence and lay it out in a pattern to, well, prove your work was right.

First, she needed a premise to prove. Easy enough: Navarre and Isyrion were two different people, and Navarre was up to something bad! She grinned. Off to a good start already.

Her first piece of evidence had to be Father's comment, since that was what set off her suspicions in the first place. He said that Isyrion spoke to Navarre after her father's death. She definitely wasn't misremembering it; she could still hear him saying it in her head. But was there another way he could have meant it? Like maybe Isyrion was who Navarre used to be, and it was her good side calling out to her after she started with all the racism stuff. That didn't make any sense, though: it implied Father and Alexander thought Navarre's campaign was evil, and that wasn't right at all.

It was evidence enough for her to prove the point, but something she overheard in a conversation probably wouldn't sway any others. She had to keep thinking.

So Navarre and Isyrion weren't the same person, yet Isyrion was claiming to be Navarre. Why? The real Navarre could be someone that Marn's people wouldn't be willing to hear out, like a known criminal; or maybe Navarre was one of the races she – or he – was condeming. Possible, but not likely. Frowning, she pulled her legs against her chest and wrapped her arms around them, thinking harder. There was a chance that “Navarre” could be a title or an inherited name. In that case the former Navarre would be dead by now. And come to think of it, there was nothing Father said that implied the non-Isyrion Navarre was still alive..

“Let's assume I'm right, and that Navarre is a title instead of a person...” Lorenna began, closing her eyes. “Father said Navarre talked to Isyrion shortly after Lord Vesurian's death. Was there anyone who...?”

Her eyes widened.

That librarian lady from the University! Madelynne Vendeleur. The University had put an article in the Daily Tattler honoring her memory, included with profiles on all the other victims of the massacre at Vesurian's mansion. It praised her for being around Isyrion to comfort her in the aftermath, and lamented her grief-motivated suicide, pointing out she had been a close friend of the Vesurian family for years. Lorenna remembered Isyrion's circle mentioning Madame Vendeleur occasionally, as well – always in relation to Isyrion after Vesurian's death. There was no talk of anyone else consoling Isyrion; her father was her only family, and she didn't have many friends.

If she was right, then Madelynne must have convinced Isyrion to take up her cause... before she killed herself. Okay, that didn't add up. Maybe she really couldn't go on living, but thought Isyrion had the potential to... avenge Vesurian? The assassins were apparently dwarves, so that would help explain the whole racism thing.

Still, there were a few holes. She knew very little about this Madelynne woman's life, particularly if she did anything that would be in line with Isyrion's actions as Navarre. As far as Lorenna knew, Madelynne was just a scholarly librarian at the University.

The University. Alexander had worked at the University as a professor for decades.

Lorenna was already out of bed. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit...” she whispered as she headed to the closet. She needed to get dressed, then find a cloak or something so she could search the city for her cousin.

Luca needed to hear about this. Now.

Unfortunately, her body disagreed. As soon as she started taking off her nightgown, she felt pain in her sides so excruciating she almost fell backwards to the floor. She regained her balance, then slowly backpedaled to the bed and sat down, taking a moment to compose herself. She couldn't wait for Luca to come back to tell him her theory, especially if he was out questioning friends about Navarre. There had to be something she could do!

Once the pain died down, she stood up and walked to the door, opening it and sticking her head out. "Reynard...?" she called. "I need to see you for a minute. It's very important."

[Luca Abernathy]

---At the household of Luca Abernathy---

Reynard, contentedly reclined on a divan reading a copy of a treatise on scar tissue and methods to reduce their inflammation, had been hoping for a relaxing afternoon Instead he heard Lorenna and rolled to his feet immediately. A few seconds later the rake-thin physician was horrified to see Lorenna's face at the door rather than in the bed where she was meant to be.

A moment was all it took for the qhat-saturated man to regain his composure and speak calmly "Madame Abernathy, it is critical to your recovery that you do not move around I will need to check all of your wounds and bandages again. We can talk while I do so." Reynard made shooing gestures at her, gesturing for her to return to her guest chamber. "Need I remind you that moving around like that could have easily torn any number of the sutures I went to ever so much trouble to put in place? I left you a bell to summon me for a reason, you know."

Thank all that was good in the world for the emotion-numbing influence of qhat, otherwise Reynard would have been beside himself with nervous conniptions. A cursory inspection of Lorenna's bandages showed only one or two spots where there was an unexpected level of seepage suggesting torn stitches. "Please be seated on the stool. Now, while I tend to you, what matter was so urgent that you'd gamble your own recovery on it?"



---At the Bitches Bite---

Luca pondered Jacel's question. In all truth he knew very little about Isyrion. There was no helping it, though. "Honestly, old bean, I've done my best to avoid the bitch and her dull and vicious campaigns. The gossip says she went a bit strange when her old man got offed by some dwarves, at that dinner party where Modestine's family got done in. You remember that? It tipped Modestine over the edge too, if you recall."

Luca nudged Conrad and looked meaningfully at his brandy glass "Not that anyone could ever tell me what provoked the killings in the first place. In the end there was a lot of speculation, but nothing solid enough to turn into a nice scandal, so the topic fell out of favour as a source of titillation."

Conrad grudgingly passed Luca's glass back to him, and the nobleman borrowed the bottle back for a refill as he finished "Half-remembered gossip suggests that it was around then that Isyrion started calling herself Navarre, but I'd have to talk with some of my darlings at the next soiree to get more reliable details. It's amazing what a memory women have for such things."

That was actually a good point, and having Jacel talk to Lorenna while her memory of things was sharp would be a wise move. "You know what, my dear fellow, maybe you could come back and dine with us this evening? I'm sure Lorenna would love to share what she knows. She's probably grown utterly tired of Reynard's company by now."

[Jacel Varti]

Jacel exhaled softly, the noise just a small decibel below a sigh. Rolling back in his seat helped him relax over the first of what he expected would be many frustrations. Luca couldn’t tell him anything Isyrion’s government file hadn’t already. His hand of cards wasn’t just bad, it was almost empty. Marn’s upper echelons were as distant to him as they were to a titre, though he technically held synevive status.

“I’d love to, my friend. You’ve no clue the time I’ve spent longing for an excuse to escape this malicious stack of papers.” Jacel said.

He abruptly recalled that Bitch was in the room with them. His head turned to see what he would need to do about her when he left, only to discover she had fallen asleep in the corner. At least that explained why she hadn’t jumped up to lick and sniff the new arrivals. In a way, it was disappointing; he might have enjoyed watching Conrad flinch and fret over the presence of the big, slobbery mutt.

He smiled affectionately at her before turning back to Luca, pulling his coat around him and grabbing his cane. “No sense in waiting around here. Let’s be off.”

[Navarre]

Lorenna nodded slowly and moved back into the guest room. Suddenly aware she was trembling, she breathed deeply and closed her eyes, trying to calm herself and gather her thoughts. If anyone was going to take her seriously, she couldn't behave like the frantic dolt so many took her for, especially around Luca. Her cousin loved her, but he seemed so dead-set on writing off Isyrion as some mere madwoman.

“I'm sorry, Reynard,” she said, carefully sitting on the stool. “I suppose I let myself get carried away. I just have a lot on my mind. Please, when my cousin comes back, will you send him up to see me? It's very important.”

She fell silent for a moment. “But since I don't know when he will return, I would like your opinion on a matter. I'm confident I'm seeing this clearly, but I'd like to hear from someone... uninvolved”

All her suspicions rushed forward in her mind, but she kept herself from launching into a rant. She didn't want to discredit herself by appearing hysterical. “I told my cousin that, not too long ago, I overheard Father referring to Isyrion and Lady Navarre as two separate people; specifically, that Navarre spoke to Isyrion after her father's death. At the time I thought he was speaking metaphorically, to illustrate the change Isyrion went through, but now I'm convinced he meant it literally.”

She looked him in the eyes. “I understand what I'm saying seems bizarre, but there's facts that support it. Right after Lord Vesurian's death, only two people had access to Isyrion: Alexander Marquelis, and Madame Vendeleur, his associate at the University. Both knew the Vesurian family for years, but they only started meeting with them regularly before the murder. I remember there was a big deal about Madame Vendeleur supporting Isyrion in her time of need, before giving into her own grief and committing suicide. She was the only one who really talked with Isyrion in the aftermath, and going by what Father said...”

The color drained from her face, and she covered her mouth with her hand. “All the deaths...” she mumbled, lowering her hand. “Reynard, is there any way we can get a hold of Lord Marquelis' son Ashleigh? I fear his life may be in danger.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I've kept quiet about a lot of this nonsense, even let you rope me into supporting her publicly, but this is too much. You're spitting on years of this family's tradition – all for some damn obsession with this woman's...”

Navarre glanced to the side and folded her arms on her lap, not even bothering to hide her disinterest with the family squabble. After Ashleigh's behavior at the gala, she knew an outburst was inevitable. He, unlike his father, was a simpleton, incapable of appreciating her hard work. His role didn't require any higher thinking, and he was Alexander's son, so she didn't mind overlooking his ignorance... at first. Ashleigh's mouth was quickly becoming a liability, and although he wasn't privy to her secrets, he knew enough to make some trouble.

If Alexander hadn't asked her to spare him, the boy would be rotting in a ditch right now. There were, of course, worse fates than death, and she was inclined to start sleeping on the subject.

“Ashleigh,” she began, her eyes drifting toward him, “we all know you're wasting your time. Your father has already issued his decision, and the rest of your family is wise enough to respect his wishes, regardless of whether they agree.”

“House Marquelis has supported the Guard long before you were even born,” Ashleigh said to his father, pointedly ignoring Navarre. “To fully withdraw support, and over some little slight like – “

“'Little slight?' Smithson used a tragedy as an excuse to arrest Navarre, simply because he didn't agree with her politics,” Alexander said, scowling. “That isn't the kind of Guard I want this family to stand behind. Don't pin this decision on Navarre; it was mine and mine alone.”

Navarre absently stirred her tea.“Every Marquelis will cease all involvement with the Guard, whether it be service, donations, or anything else, or risk disownment. I support your father's decision, and it would mean the world to him if you did, as well.”

“Oh, bullshit!” Ashleigh snapped. “I know you're behind this. Are you so fucking insecure that you can't handle opposition? Smithson had every right to arrest you, and instead of just going with him quietly, you made a big show out of it and tried to demonize him. Do you really expect me to believe you have nothing to do with this insanity?”

Navarre glanced at Alexander. “Perhaps we should stop dancing around the obvious?” she asked, returning her gaze to Ashleigh. “Your father is still an authority in your family, but the fact of the matter is I now control the entirety of House Marquelis, in addition to the remnants of House Modestine and a sizeable portion of House Abernathy – who will all be issuing similar statements in the coming days, rest assured. I support Marn's government, and the Guard is by no means synonymous with it. You either accept my decisions, or you have no place here.”

Ashleigh stared at her, clenching his fists. “...And is this how you feel, Father?”

Alexander looked away, saying nothing.

“Fine, then. I'm finished with this.”

Navarre sipped her tea. “Get out.” Ashleigh stormed out of the room, slamming the door so hard it nearly came off its hinges. Smiling, she turned to Alexander. “I stand corrected. Now I control all of House Marquelis.”

Alexander nodded. “Still, what I said before stands: I don't want him hurt. He's no longer officially part of this family, but he is my son nonetheless.”

“Of course. But of course, you realize he cannot walk freely while our plan is in motion. You have three days to decide what to do with him, otherwise I will myself.”

“Understood.”

[Luca Abernathy]

---At the household of Luca Abernathy: Reynard and Lorenna---

Reynard was again glad of the calming effects qhat brought him. Deep beneath the pleasant blanket of narcotic-induced indifference, part of Reynard was screaming about the dangers of politics and the importance of never, ever, ever ever ever getting involved in any fashion whatsoever. But Reynard was in a pleasant state, and let Lorenna start her monologue while he prepared fresh dressings and additional antiseptic agents for her wounds. "Hmm, yes, of course I shall send your cousin to you. Not that you need to ask me. Luca was running an errand for you, after all. I imagine he'll be dashing up the stairs the moment he gets here. You know what he's like." Overly melodramatic, that's what Luca was like. But also very tolerant and thus, in Reynard's opinion, a good employer.

Reynard found his supply of sutures and recently boiled needles. Oh dear, now Lorenna wanted his opinion on something. That was inconvenient. "Of course, m'lady, go ahead. But please let me examine those sutures while you talk. I need to see how much damage your haste has rendered unto them." The physician fussed over the dressings and sutures while Lorenna poured out her misgivings in a torrent of information Reynard had absolutely no interest in. But of course, she had to go and make eye contact, necessitating some kind of response "Hmm, of course, very worrying. Luca will undoubtedly need to hear that. Hold still, I need to replace these bandages. The sutures will hold for the evening, but we'll need to re-do them tomorrow."

The physician was almost done when Lorenna mentioned Ashleigh Marquelis. Buggered if Reynard knew how to contact a Marquelis. It wasn't like any of that lot ever attended Luca's decadent soirees. "I'm sure Luca will think of something." Probably have a good laugh at the Marquelis family's expense, if Reynard knew his employer. Not that he was going to say that to Lorenna, who seemed to contain that worrisome blend of naivety and earnestness you normally came across in young children. "Now, lie down and rest so that the wounds can hopefully seal themselves again. Luca will be back soon enough, you'll see."


---Later at the household of Luca Abernathy: Luca and Jacel---

Luca and Jacel discussed the latest high society scandals merrily as they strolled back to Luca's home. Conrad trailed behind them, a sullen and intimidating third wheel, who took it upon himelf to glower at anyone who came too close to the trio. Misery did like company, after all, and Conrad was the sharing type.

Eventually they reached the house and Luca unlocked the front door. "Darlings, I am home!" There was silence. Luca pursed his lips in something dangerously close to a pout. Conrad interjected "They are likely being in Lorenna's room, Luca. Is hard to hear front door from there."

That was dangerously logical, and Luca didn't appreciate losing the chance for a jolly good sulk. But, then again, this was still technically business "Very well then, let's make the trek up there. Welcome back to my little haven, Jacel old bean. Do come in and make yourself at home. Conrad, be a good chap and go get some brandy for me and bring it to us upstairs? Jacel, any preferences beverage-wise?"

In no time at all Luca and company had made their way to Lorenna's room and, once the introductions were out of the way, Reynard coughed and whispered to Luca "Lorenna was very talkative today. All politics, I'm afraid. Marquelis this, death that, Navarre etcetera."

Luca smiled broadly "No need for whispers, Jacel is here for precisely that reason. Lorenna dear coz, what did I miss?" Lorenna, having had the time to calm herself, repeated what she'd told Reynard earlier. Luca tutted "Well Jacel, what d'you make of that, old bean? And should we bother with that Marquelis prig?" Luca was mostly successful in ignoring Lorenna's look of outrage at his last comment.