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banquo-at-the-feast · 8 years ago

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A balcony in Coerthas, some time ago

@axechucker

The chair was certainly a little humbler than the one in the palatial living quarters. North had quietly lifted it all the way from the dining room. A small tray rested on the railing, bearing a three-quarters full bottle of something clear and sharp, and a simple pewter mug besides. The scarf he had worn about his face for the past weeks to save others from his cold now rested at his collarbone, mouth visible for the first time in a while. Gideon North watched the mist float on the mountains with slightly more lidded eyes than usual--his duties regarding Miss Edda finished for the night, he had found some escape up on one of the manor balconies. He was not normally given to needing “escape”, but the past couple weeks had been somewhat overwhelming. With Miss Edda and Lord Taeros--his current mistress and his once-master, respectively--united in marriage, many things in his history were beginning to repeat themselves. Nobody would begrudge him a solitary drink, especially when an attempt had been made on his life just days before.

"Ah. Mr. North." Taeros’s voice came clear through the chilly air. The man stepped out onto the balcony with an armored guard in tow, noting the valet’s presence--and his drink--with some surprise. "Unexpected."

“Sir, and sir.” Gideon inclined his body in a slight sitting bow, raising both hands above his head in the motion--making it look a bit more theatrical than his usual reflexive etiquette.

Tonight, Jameson Taeros--a man of seemingly endless smiles, reflexive and predatory--was not smiling. He looked perhaps testy, but only around the eyes. If his armored guard responded to the valet’s greeting, they did not show it. “Glad to have caught you. You've seen Lady Eglantine's new piano?”

“I have, sir, yes. A fine piece.” Gideon nodded absently, muttering again. "A fine piece."

Taeros inclined his head. "It will require a specific wax. Vylbrand Nix, I believe is the name. Sturdy, keeps a shine, and protects against liquid damage." The noble inhaled a long breath of cold air, his tone almost as frigid for a moment. “Necessary, as it has clearly replaced the rumpus room's bar.”

"If sir misses the ready availability of spirits, I can only offer some of my own. Local, of course, but serviceable.” North gestured fluidly with the humble flask.

A faint smirk crossed Taeros’s face. "Rare to see you enjoying a drink, Mr. North. Have any extra for a friend?"

“And no-one else.” He responded with a peaceable nod, and that, at least, does get a smile from Taeros. Despite his earlier tone, something in him seemed to relax at Gideon’s presence. He watched bemusedly as the butler leaned forward over the railing, rummaging on the drop-side... and raised an eyebrow as Gideon rose once more, this time with a mug in either hand; apparently concealed on the outer bricks. Even the guard looked puzzled for a moment, a faint clank heralding what might ordinarily have been a judgmental stare.

A sigh escaped Taeros as the butler poured a small measure into his mug. "You missed my speech, Mr. North." The scent of the drink was sharp, but still difficult to perceive until brought close in the cold night air.

“Civic matters, sir?”

The nobleman idly dusted the stone rail of snow, as though he finds the stuff vaguely irritating. "You were given the night off, but I brought Coatleque in, as well as Lord Vontraus. Ser Faltheren de Fortemps also joined us." His voice remained quiet.

An ex-lover, and a self-professed hedonist of a lesser noble. “Volatile, sir.”

A wry smirk flashed across his face. “It could have gone worse, truth be told. Coatleque accepted my apology. Well, to a point.” His pause was just long enough to imply the thereafter. "But Vontraus was arranging for me my new office space. And Fortemps, well....” Gideon took another gulp, perhaps in reaction to the mention of the roguish noble, as Taeros murmured. "One can never have too many friends.” Finally, Taeros ventured a sip himself--continuing only after a swallow and a pause. “I talked about loyalty, Mr. North.”

“Hm.” Gideon’s face went wry for a moment.

“Loyalty.” Taeros repeated, looking sidelong at him. “Something you know a thing or two about.”

"Only that much, sir.” He gave his ex-master a wry look. “We cannot hope to understand everything that guides us.”

Taeros spoke again, his voice softer. "I spoke about... that last night in Ul'dah." He takes another swift drink. "You remember." The night of the understreet siege... when assassins tempted Taeros and his agents out into the passageways of the Goblet, and faced off against assassins masquerading as Nero Lazarov, Taeros’s archenemy... A night that ultimately culminated in the murder of several of Taeros’s guards, the apparent death of Taeros himself, and the final one-on-one ambush where a clawed assassin gave Gideon his scar, in an attempt to tie up the last loose end of Taeros’s business associates...

The valet nodded, distant. “It could have gone better.”

Taeros stared out into the driving snow. "You stood for me. Callae stood for me. Coatleque stood for me." A nod. "Yes. Helvia stood for me, and she died." He pursed his lips. Rarely did he ever call his guards by name. “...There was one other. That whimpering man. Do you recall?”

"Indeed, sir. I healed him.” Gideon paused, the dead thaumaturge’s face flashing through his mind--eyes rolled back and blood spat across his lips. “For what good that did, I suppose.”

“He did not precisely stand for me, but there you have it." Taeros took another drink. He hadn’t been indulging in the drink at all of late, but here he clearly seemed to be making an exception... but, Gideon reflected, he had caught the valet himself drinking.

“And so, sir?” Gideon poured himself another measure, only half-aware of the envious stare of Taeros’s guard.

He shook his head. "I fear my speech was lost on them. Edda understood, in the end, the point I was trying to make." He paused, murmuring with his eyes on the snow, "She is a ... surprisingly remarkable woman, Mr. North. Wouldn't you say?"

“Indeed, sir.”

The man had an odd look in his eye--something akin to fondness, not oft seen. "She is beautiful, of course," he murmured. "But that does not last, as I warned her." A faint chuckle. “Passion, even. How long? Five years. Ten if you're fortunate and your blood runs at the same temperature.” His voice lowered to a purr, his eyes somewhere distant. "Her line, though. Her name. And more, her carriage. Integrity." Gideon furrowed his brow. Did he mishear? "And she plays the game, Mr. North. I had not realized." There was something in his voice at that--as if that, more than anything else, he was most attracted to.

“Miss is well enough familiar with judgment that she has sought to refine her own in turn, I'm sure.” Gideon words his response carefully.

"She has been playing it most of her life.” Taeros murmured--perhaps in response, perhaps not. “She is quite adept. Those little looks. The questioning tilt of her head. Gods, the way her eyes glaze over sometimes.” A laugh escaped him at that--thoughtful, and satisfied. "Seamless, really. You chose well. Or she did." A pensive pause followed... and finally, Taeros glanced to his valet. "Did she ever say why she requested you?”

“She wished to help me.” Gideon North nodded vaguely, taking another drink.

"Altruism." Taeros raised both eyebrows, saying the word like he only half-believed it.

“Perhaps resonance, sir.”

Taeros glanced to him again curiously, pausing before drinking more. "Come again?"

"Hm...” Gideon examined his mug pensively, lost in thought. “Perhaps it would be better to say... recognition of servitude.”

At that, Jameson nodded, voice quiet. "Ah. Yes, that makes sense. She has an eye for those little details, but you'd never actually catch her in the act."

“No, no.” The valet waved dismissively--the contradiction of his former master perhaps the greatest proof of his inebriation. “It's more...” He puzzled silently over it for a moment, as Taeros watched him with curious attentiveness. “...Here, perhaps:” Gideon North hoisted the bottle, as if in example. Fascinated, Jameson Taeros leaned against the stone rail. A speech! By Gideon North! Even the guard clanked lightly, turning to watch. “Sir would agree, yes, that my position, such as it is, affords me some measure of influence, security, and power. Yes? A peculiar guarantee due to my circumstance, skillset, and position in hierarchy.” The valet pours himself another quarter-measure.

“Yes, of course.” Jameson Taeros inclined his head graciously. “You are quite literally the best I have seen at your position.”

“Sir is most kind, and also correct.” A swift, satisfied tug of his lapels. “Yet, such as that is, I am servant. Thus being, regardless of whatever I may hold, whatever I may possess, whatever else I may be, I must always live for the sake of another. A virtue of dependence, you see. A natural relinquishment, as is proper and expected, and indeed required for the sake of the first point!” The valet poured Taeros a full half-measure in comparison, then indicated the two mugs, to the nobleman’s apparent amusement. “Now, sir, far be it from me to equate my position with one of more gentility. But it seems to me that milady's sympathies may be born of... expectation.” Gideon took a sip, a little dour again. “A similar fate expected for herself, in varying function.”

“True and not true.” Taeros pondered it. “You in fact have a greater freedom, as I would contest the point of must. Service is a choice. Slavery has been outlawed for many eras. “Edda's path is set.” A hollow smile flickered across Gideon’s face as he stared into his mug. The nobleman continued. "Her father, for all intents and purposes, sold her to me. And on a gamble at that.” Jameson Taeros smiles his Jameson Taeros smile. "It so happens that it will work out splendidly for her. But the difference is clear. You could walk straight out the doors." His voice went quiet. "She could not."

"The distinction is a fine one.”

“Now then, could you achieve the same level of comfort as, say, a tailor? Drinking from such fine glasses as these. You could do a tailor's job, like as not. Or a groom. A tailor could not afford to live the way we live, however. So it is a trade--your exceptional service.”

Gideon chuckled mirthlessly. “Now, sir, surely you know I do not do this for the compensation or the comforts.”

“No, of course not.” Taeros gestured fluidly. “One would not achieve the various forms of distinction you have without having the drive to do just that.”

The valet sniffed. He didn’t seem as sick anymore, however. If anything, he appeared to remain out here in defiance of it. “...Mm...”

Taeros tilted his head, apparently struck by something. "Tell me, Mr. North. Tell me of your first master."

"Hah. Curiosity, sir?”

But the man seemed undeterred. "Tell me how all this..." He gestured across Gideon in his entirety. "...came to be shaped." He pursed his lips. "He must have been a singular gentleman."

Gideon sniffed again, drinking in lieu of a response. For a while, he was silent... then he muttered, somewhat more dryly than before. “I am not sure if he shaped me.” Taeros took another drink as well, not to be outdone. Perhaps Edda would give him the rough side of her tongue for it... but that could come later.

"He was...” Gideon searched for the word... and made up his mind, his face darkening. “...undeserving.” Taeros lifts both eyebrows, clearly surprised by the manservant’s tone. Gideon continues. “I've told you I don't like to... I am no judge. It is not my place to say who does and doesn't deserve anything. To judge someone, yes, is to elevate. To place oneself in superiority. Yes?”

Taeros shrugged. "It is not only an opinion, but the topic is your shaping. I should think you might be the singular judge in that."

The servant laughed, bitterness in his voice. “He didn't even care for his riches.”

The noble arched an eyebrow. "Some people born to wealth are like that."

“His parents...” Gideon shook his head. “They were the ones who had risked it all. Two swarthy Roegadyn privateers, their home abandoned, winnings packed, and treasures sold off. Gideon North: Bound for Ul'dah. Bound to craft themselves a new life... To make a change. Help those in need. Find those who needed just enough gil to see their dreams realized, and uplift them into the Bazaar, or out of Pearl Lane, or...” Under Taeros’s incredulous stare, Gideon looked up abruptly. “Do you know any of the intricacies of the Roegadyn tongue?”

“I must say I do not. No.”

“All their names have meaning, built into them.” Gideon nodded, sounding rather like an instructor again for a moment. Roen flashed across his mind.

“Ah. ‘Granite Howl’ and such... Yes, peculiar.” Taeros seemed content to indulge him.

“Ah, but many of those are taken names. Just simple nouns and adjectives, verbs and adverbs. No, their own language--the Sea Wolves' names. Every single one. And Dynitar... yes, you can see just what his parents were thinking, can't you?” Gideon chuckled, eyes flickering to Taeros--who, despite clearly not having much context, humored him with a nod. “It's ‘People-Knight’, literally. Taken as a name, it's like... entrusting a duty at birth.” The man inhaled deeply, gaze falling back upon the fields of snow. “They wanted him to understand what they were doing. To carry on their beliefs and virtues, to understand the significance of everything he had within his power.” A pause. The faraway reminiscence of his voice faded to something like sympathy, or resignation. “He didn't, of course. He wanted to go home to Limsa. He wanted a home more than he wanted a mansion.”

"Some do.” Taeros nodded. “Familiarity breeds comfort."

Gideon opened his mouth to respond--and turned at the sound of the door opening once more, rising to greet the newcomer. “Ah!” The manor’s house servant stands uncertainly at the threshold, carrying a basket of warm bread and butter. Unsure of what to do, and looking at the pair as though they were madmen, the Ishgardian servant made as if to set the basket to the side... but then raised it once more, passing it forward to Gideon--who beams with all appearance of sincerity, bowing in response. “You are a gentleman.”

"Yes, well.” He sniffs, squinting suspiciously at the snow-flecked duo. “I serve a High House. So."

“If you wish a bottle of your own after your hours of service, you need only call upon me and I will supply with haste and satisfaction.” Gideon nodded, satisfied--despite the fact the he was clearly drinking nothing worthy of such High Houses.

The man stared at Gideon warily. "...Thank... you?"

Taeros sighed. “Really, Pip, would it be so hard to be courteous to your fellow serviceman.”

“N-No, not at all, my lord. Anything you require!” Pip--no, Perci, Gideon realized!--bowed hurriedly to Taeros, eager to please.

“Oh, nonsense, sir, nonsense. Perci works very hard, and I am sure he has other duties on his mind.” Gideon tutted, giving the master an admonishing look--rewarded with a not-quite-contrite sigh from Taeros, and a slight puffing-up from Perci.

The noble turned back to the snowy vista, shaking his head despairingly. “You can't beat niceness into a man... Very good then. Would you like to join us for a drink?”

Perci froze at the invitation, caught off-guard, then hastily shook his head. “It's c-cold out here! No thank you!”

"It's your country, Pip.” Taeros drawled. “One would think you would be accustomed to the chill." Perci looked away from the noble, sulking.

“Aha! Familiarity breeds more than comfort, sir.” Gideon laughed merrily--apparently enjoying himself, turning Taeros’s earlier judgment back upon him.

Taeros favored him with a sly grin. “Point made, I suppose. Well then.” He glanced back to Perci. “Off with you. And thank you for the bread.”

“Very kind indeed.” Gideon murmured faintly, giving the man one last nod and smile. The Ishgardian man bowed to the lord... then, to the valet’s delight, returned his look with a cautious smile of his own--before quickly fleeing back inside into the warmth.

“I do believe you may actually get through to him.” Thoughtful, Taeros’s eyes remained on the door for a moment.

“Recognition is a powerful thing.” Gideon’s smile relaxed once more. “That's what I found accompanying the young master.”

"I suppose. But he's not just a butler." That got Gideon’s attention--the valet gives Taeros a quizzical look, head tilted. Noticing his confusion, the lord continued. “He's far too fit. He has callous on his palms, fingertips. He is Fortemps' bodyguard as well as manservant, but... camoflaged.”

Gideon nodded, expression somewhat amused. “Possible, sir, possible. Then again, if we had constant need for firewood in Ul'dah, I might be a sight more strapping myself, hm?”

A half-smile accompanied Taeros’s murmured response. "I think I prefer your healing touch, Mr. North."

"Healing is not preventative, sir.” Gideon’s tone sobered as he stared down into his mug. “Had I similar power, perhaps...” Taeros murmured, a ghost of a smile on his face, "I think he and Ser Faltheren also have an additional... wrinkle... to their relationship. But I daren't speculate. Especially in this city."

“My. What unnecessary complication.” Gideon North seemed more genuinely concerned for the sake of his master-servant relationship than derisive... earning him another smirk from Taeros.

"Pity the men with unique tastes.” The noble shrugged. “This is not the city to happily harbor those."

“I suppose so, sir. The farther one must reach, the more vulnerable one's arm.”

"Well said. Back to your young master, Mr. North. Or before that, rather. However did you affix yourself to a family of Roe?”

“Ah...” The valet hesitated. “Well, it was simple assignment. I was fresh out of my training, and the family sought a companion for their young heir, to help him acclimate to the desert air and better understand his obligations and circumstances. My mentor... yes, placed me in their care.”

"Ah.” Taeros was quiet. “So you were for him. And not them.”

“Indeed, sir, indeed so. Assigned and placed. He derisively called me a babysitter.” Taeros laughed, as much from the admission as from Gideon’s indignant expression. "And me nearly half his height, of course! I imagine we looked like one of those... yes, there's some manner of rhinoceros that always has a prim little bird flitting about it, hm?”

"What was your age difference?”

“Barely anything, really.” He sounded lost in nostalgia.

"So friends, really.” Jameson Taeros smirked. "However were you not spoilt?"

“The young master was terribly caustic, sir!” Gideon nodded quickly, as if to reassert his injury. “The first several nights, I truly wondered if all servants were so put-upon, if I had willingly chosen the life of a world-weary ambulant footstool!”

Taeros only chuckled in response. "A boon, then." A long pause passed between them... until the noble looked once more to Gideon, staring searchingly. "So what became of him?" He asked the question with a bit of care. Gideon North chuckles a little, as if not hearing the question, murmuring to himself softly and nodding.

"Hah. Heh, hm...” The valet exhaled slowly. Taeros watched his expression carefully, noting the faint twitch. “Well. What ever becomes of those who want to change Ul'dah?”

Taeros’s face took on a somber cast--perhaps genuine, perhaps practiced. He murmured, voice quiet and focused. "Do you have... names?"

The valet, however, only laughed. “I tried, sir. I really, really tried.”

He looked a little annoyed. "My resources are greater than yours, Mr. North."

"I only have the name of the one who killed his parents. The elders of the family.” He grimaced, pausing before he continued with a dry smile. “Perhaps sir already knows it, eh?”

Nero Lazarov. The man who almost orchestrated Taeros’s own death. The noble pursed his lips. "A shared enemy," he finally said softly. "But did I know when I took you into my services? No."

“It makes for a hell of a punchline, though.” Gideon North poured... just a bit of the drink onto the snow building up on the ramparts. It coasted off, falling through the air far down below.

"Certain people make many enemies.” Taeros shrugged. “As it happens, I am of the belief he made a few too many. But madmen do."

“And so do the innocent.” Gideon North stared down, following the stream as best he could through the evening snowfall.

At that, however, Taeros laughed. “No, Gideon.” His given name. Rare from Taeros’s mouth. “The innocent don't have enemies. They are merely short-sighted or expendable.” His voice grew softer. "And they fall easy prey to those he do not care if they are."

Gideon didn't seem to shift much outwardly, but his gaze sharpened tenfold at that. “The young master--” He paused to regain himself, as his once-master watched him in silence. “--was not prey.” Taeros did not speak, awaiting anything to follow--and after a pause, Gideon continued on. “...I do not know... who his enemies were. But he died at the hands of those who schemed against him. Who sought to undo his kindness. And he deserved none of it. Gideon North: He did not deserve having everything ripped from him. And he did not deserve to die in despair.”

Taeros frowned. “They could not simply... let him go. Back to Limsa.”

"I cannot guess at their reasoning.” The energy had drained from the valet’s voice. Taeros turned back to face the snow. “He was lost without them. He had grown a great deal, and learned the weight of his responsibilities. But he could not deal with their deaths, left alone in a foreign city and an empty manse.” He stared into his drink. “I took care of him as best as I was able. But it was not enough. I was... told I was being replaced.”

"By whom?” Taeros furrowed his brow. “Who had leave at that point?"

“Those who placed me into their care in the first place. The agency. I instructed the new hire, made sure he knew all the young master's needs and preferences, and left the mansion just as I had found it.” Gideon raised his head, staring forward blankly. “And when I arrived at the agency, I found that they... they had assigned no such replacement.” Taeros blinked in the silence, realizing. Gideon went on, a bitter smile on his face. “Too late, of course. Poisoned. But at least they had the care to do it with the meal I had told them was most comforting in his grief.”

It was rare to see a show of empathy from Taeros, and even less so a genuine one. It was just not in him. But this seemed to stir a gentle, fine-edged anger. "The poisoner. Surely it is a face you've not forgotten."

“I would be unable to if I thought to try, sir.” Taeros drained the rest of the glass as he listened--and dropped it over the edge, with little regard for the fine Ishgardian crystal in its inlays. “But he was... unremarkable, sir. In hindsight, deliberately so.” Gideon only watched the vessel fall--making a mental note to go out and retrieve it once the air has cleared.

Taeros nodded. "The best are." Gideon smiled tiredly, giving him a brief look. The noble lightly ran his thumb along the length of his jaw, apparently in thought. "It makes little sense that a... boy barely known to the Jewel's world, and one seeking to flee it, would warrant such effort." He curled a lip. "But I learned certain men harbour slights for many, many years. It is--"

“Perhaps I have said it before, sir, but further instances of masters returning from the dead may have concerning effects on my sanity, and what's more, give me inappropriately high expectations.” Smiling despite himself, the valet’s look was equal parts dry and knowing.

The man drawled in response, darkly amused. "I was not quite dead, but yes, I suppose." His voice lowered. "And there are even ways of bringing back the truly-dead. I would not, however, nor would I ever suggest it."

"Hah.” A grim smile appears on his face. “Pursued them briefly, sir.”

An uneasy silence descended. Taeros eyed him. “I am glad those idle thoughts are in the past-tense.”

“Worry not.” Gideon raised a hand, waving it lightly. “No voidling tentacles in my sleeve. I was dissuaded. But I would have gone to any lengths.”

Taeros murmured, with careful detachment. "That is one way. A colleague of mine argues the correct application of magitek is sufficient enough that any miracle need not remain at a zero percentage." He made a face. "I am not the sort to sell my hope for the two percents either.”

“I generally leave gambling to those of means, sir.”

After a pause, Taeros looked back to Gideon. "Any lengths. So he was a terrible master but somehow a wonderful one."

Gideon nodded, a smile on his face. “He began a terrible master. I watched him grow.”

"Ah." Taeros paused, apparently considering the prospect.

“Similar rumors as the ones you mentioned circled us, as well.”

The noble examined his sleeve, noticing a certain dampness. He made another face of dismay, this one perhaps at his own expense. "Well, fret not. You've no fear that I will become a moral paragon. I fully intend to--eh?" He paused, incredulous eyes darting to Gideon. “What sort?”

“Regarding wrinkles.”

A sudden laugh escaped Taeros, and even Gideon chuckled, unable to help himself. The nobleman shook his head. “Gods, the Tonberry Lantern would have me beset by a hundred women. I don't need manservants on top of that.” A pause. “No offense, Mr. North.”

"With all due respect, sir, you're not my type.” He spoke with perfect poise and deadpan serenity.

The noble looked on, amused. "That very statement suggests you have a type."

“I did say, sir, that we do not always understand that which guides our choices.” Gideon seemed content to watch the sky, an amused smile lingering on his face.

Taeros smirked, a flash of recall lighting his face up for a moment. "Undoubtedly. The new girl, Tamsin, has been schooling Edda on various... amusing anecdotes."

"Oh dear, sir.”

“Do you know the Four Ports of Sensual Consent?”

“Are those perhaps in Vylbrand, sir?”

At that, Taeros seemed truly and darkly amused. "Like as not they originated there. But no. Some nonsense about giving your intended forced pause at various points of the feminine frame. Do you know what a 'Bust Buddy' is?"

"It smacks of some sort of device I may have heard being loudly advertised in the Quicksand, sir.” The valet seemed lost in thought.

Taeros sniggered. "Alas, no. I believe that's a brassiere. Apparently it's different from a Fanny Friend or a Leg Lover." A moment’s pause, and then he muttered, "I probably butchered those as well. I think it tries to pin us down to various types via general proclivity.”

“Milady's education sounds... comprehensive.” All these revelations seemed to leave Gideon a bit awed.

Taeros muttered, "I almost wish she'd had none."

Gideon nodded solemnly. "Fortunate are we to have one of Miss Tamsin's deep academic background on the matter.”

Taeros snigger-snorted--giving away the extent of his drinking. “Yes, well. She has her uses.”

“Is milady satisfied with her, at least?” Gideon hesitated. “I haven't had much chance to inquire regarding matters other than business...”

"She is.” Taeros took a deep breath, then exhaled. “Edda has a kind heart and responds to others with the same, her little... territorial display for Coatleque notwithstanding."

“Aforementioned volatility, sir?”

"I cannot imagine what she thought would be the result of that little display.” For a moment, his expression turned quite sour. “But. I am hardly innocent. I accused Coatleque of betraying a deep confidence, and come to find out I was actually betrayed by my foe's willingness to tell tales.” His eyes flickered to Gideon. "You recall the mercenary Delial."

“We have not met, sir, but the name is familiar.”

“Ah. Apologies. Yes, as I recall, our early meetings took place before your employment.” His expression turned grim. “At any rate, the bitch knows a great deal more than I had ever hoped, and that information found its way into Osric Melkire's hands.” Osric Melkire--the man who had himself masqueraded as Nero Lazarov in order to lure Taeros to his “death”. “Thus came the curtain to fall on my Ul'dahn activities.”

“...Hm.” Gideon reflected on this, somber. “I had wondered the cause.”

Taeros spoke with sudden stiffness. "Melkire and I have since broken bread. I've not forgotten the role he played in injuring me, or you for that matter. But..." The noble rubbed his chin. "He and I share a grand enemy. And so he is a dog I might loose in the right direction."

“I see, sir. Perhaps it is better that I was not present.”

Taeros turned to him briefly, speaking with even crispness. "If, when this business is done and he remains amongst the breathing, and you demand restitution, know that I will see it delivered." At that, he seemed to recall something--gesturing to his armored guard, who had been silently standing by through the entire conversation. “Proceed with the delivery of that package. I'd like it there before dawn.” The bodyguard responded only with a swift salute. Taeros turned back to the stone railing... then stopped, bewildered. “...What happened to my drink.”

“As I recall, sir finished it and then deposited it into Coerthas.” Taeros leaned over the railing, looking dismayed. The valet nodded sympathetically. “These things happen, sir.”

Taeros sighed, rising. "I suppose." He set a hand on Gideon's shoulder, looking him in the eyes--his own gaze searching. "Thank you."

“Sir?”

The man shrugged. Perhaps it was the alcohol. "For everything," he said simply.

“Ah.” The valet only nodded in response.

"As you said earlier, your service is simply the best there is."

Gideon sniffed out an unmoving laugh. “It has to be.”

Taeros nodded once more, his gaze intensely focused. "And it is. Edda wants to claim you for herself. But mark my words, when I wed the woman, I will bloody well claim you again!"

The servant gazed upon Taeros thoughtfully. “But I've been off-duty for some bells, sir.“

The noble shrugged. "I don't even keep track of that. And mark my words, if I see you and you're in your surcoat, you're on duty whether you want to be or not." He laughed at that, clearly enjoying the idea.

"You know, sir, you needn't own someone to count them as an ally or friend.” It’s said lightly, as if in faux reprimand.

The laughter stopped, as Taeros raised an eyebrow... but his only response was a drawled, "No, but it helps."

Gideon shrugged, inclining his head to his former master. “On you go, then, sir. You're due some rest.“ Taeros turned, giving him one last cheerful wave before stumbling off... apparently feeling the drink more than even he expected. The armored guard followed after him, without a word.

The valet, left to his own devices, shook the bottle--now empty. The two of them had made quite a bit of headway on it, after all. Jameson Taeros was... an enemy, originally, but whether through the familiarity or the professional bond of their master-servant relationship, he had come to know the man quite well. He was not a man given to changing the habits of his masters, or guiding them on any path but the one they chose... which is why (he resolved, through the pleasant haze of the evening drink), as long as Taeros was not his master, there was a chance that they would one day truly understand each other.

He watched the snow fall.

#FFXIV #Gideon North #Jameson Taeros #Edda Eglantine #Nero Lazarov #Delial Grimsong #(and indirectly...)#Roen Deneith #Verad Bellveil #Haven't transcribed anything in a while #Hope I got all the trappings of the game chat out this time...

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