#This would be just before going to Ishgard and encountering Brick

[afreesworn]

17: Novel

“So, Miss Deneith! You are back in Eorzea for good?” 

Reese Templeton always had a nervous energy about him. He was an excellent accountant – insofar as he seemed to have an eye for details and diligently informed her of business decisions that could not be made without her input. As far as Roen was concerned, he knew more about how her own wealth was managed than she did.

Being hands off was much more to her liking, the sizable estate that was left to her upon Nero’s passing never truly felt as if it belonged to her. With Mister Templeton as her accountant managing her investments in Ishgard and Ul’dah, Roen was free to travel to various corners of Eorzea, Othard, and most recently Sharlayan. 

But whenever Roen returned to Eorzea - much to the gratitude of her accountant - she always stopped by his office in Limsa Lominsa as a courtesy. He was never lacking for contracts and documents for her to sign, and never short of suggestions on dinner parties and lunches she should attend, to keep “relevant” amongst the wealthy and privileged that made up so-called “high society.” The latter was always refused, politely, and today would be no different.

“Not for good, but a bit longer this time, perhaps.” Roen nodded, hooking one arm on the oaken chair, reclining onto the quilted back. The tea he offered her remained untouched in front of her, on his desk. As usual, the man had stacks of papers and ledgers all around him, as if he was only happy juggling multiple things at once. “A few moons, I think.”

Reese raised both his eyebrows. “Oh! What is the occasion? Are you finally giving yourself some respite after traveling abroad for what… years now?” He was being facetious, of course; the man knew precisely how long she had been away for, probably down to the last bell.

“No special occasion,” Roen answered with a roll of her shoulders. “I just thought I should return home for a while. Perhaps even seek out a few friends that I have not spoken to in sometime.”

“Hm,” Reese hummed. Roen could see him wanting to pry her for more details, but somehow managed to restrain himself from doing so. They both had learned a little about each other over the years, and generally knew what to expect from one another. “Well! Your friends should be in for a pleasant surprise, yes? As far as you have been a client, I’ve not known you to take such time for yourself.” 

There was a deeper bow of her head, in acknowledging that simple fact. Indeed, she had not kept in touch with many - if not all - of the people she cared for. There were letters sent, of course, albeit infrequently, and while some have diligently written back, others…she had not heard from still.

It took her many years to finally mend old wounds, and in doing so, she had put some distance between herself and those that were dear to her. 

Perhaps it was time to close those rifts as well.

Reese regarded her thoughtful silence curiously, before adjusting the set of his glasses. “So then, should I expect you in La Noscea for a bit?” From his tone, he was eager to make some appointments on her behalf.

“I will be heading up to Ishgard first, to try and find someone,” It was a deft way to avoid yet again declining invitation to social events. “I’ll send word when I am back in La Noscea.” Her expression softened. “I would like to visit the orphanages, both here and Ul’dah.”

What looked like initial disappointment turned into a look of surprised anticipation. “Wonderful!” he chirped. “I will send word to the Albatross Orphanage. I am sure the head mistress would be happy to hear.” He tapped some parchments together on the desk, setting them neatly in front of him then clasped his hands together. “Then perhaps we can speak again about adding a few more stops to your itinerary?”

His persistence was at least admirable. Roen held up a hand but offered a small smile. “One thing at a time, Mister Templeton. Let me at least begin the process of finding my friend, then we will see what comes after that.”

If there was one thing she had learned from her years of traveling, it was to never plan too far in advance. New and unexpected things always had a way of ruining the most carefully laid plans - hers especially.

[baidar-oroq]

14-Part

(Setting: Mor Dhona, after “Tooth and Nail” and “Ultracrepidarian”)

Darya was starting to notice that Baidar was spending a sizable amount of time in Mor Dhona since her training with Y’shtola had begun in earnest. 

It did not take a genius to figure out why, after all, and she knew it had little to do with her. After the long ordeal of Y’shtola and the other Scions being trapped in a living death while their souls had been on the First, he simply wanted to be near her as much as he could. After all, with his ability to easily teleport insane distances from aetheryte to aetheryte, he could pop home to Shirogane with a snap of his fingers, and Kage certainly didn’t begrudge him spending some time with Y’shtola, after all. “Just make sure he gets home in time to help wrangle the kids in, unless there’s a crisis,” Kage had told her, and she did her best to do that. Baidar, at times, was a force of nature, but he adored his adopted family, and usually could be steered home easily enough. Otherwise, Baidar was a frequent presence in the Rising Stones, occupying one of the tables, his long legs propped up on a chair or the table itself, trading witticisms with Thancred or engaging in an activity he called “dunking on Alphinaud” with Alisaie. 

Darya privately felt bad for Alphinaud for all of the teasing, but he seemed to take in stride, with a good nature. Which given the sheer volume of teasing that Alisaie could launch on her better days was necessary for him. 

She was sitting at one of the tables with Y’shtola, taking a bit of a break from training, drinking water while Y’shtola drank her customary tea, when Baidar arrived in his typical fashion of essentially tackling the chair, landing in a slouch. “Ladies. How goes it?” he asked.

“You are going to break one of the chairs, sooner or later,” Y’shtola remarked. “And then you’ll earn the wrath of Tataru because she’ll have to replace it.”

“Kage’s a carpenter, he’d replace it.”

Y’shtola laughed. “Baidar, dear, I know Kage’s already very busy with his carpentry work. And he’d not want you making Tataru cross anyway.”

“Hmph. I mean, you’re right, but hmph.”

“Brat.”

Baidar turned to Darya to ask how her training was going; he had to learn that unlike himself, who had the Echo-given gift of learning how to master combat schools by essentially imitating them, Darya couldn’t master magic in no time. Before he could, though, his linkshell went off, and he said “Hold that thought,” as he answered. “Baidar here, what’s up?”

“Baidar, it’s Wedge. Got a problem you might be able to help us with.”

“Always have time for the Ironworks, Wedge. What’s up?”

“We sent a shipment of parts to Mor Dhona from Ishgard recently. Couple of weeks or so. Some of it was materials meant to remain there to manufacture armor and weapons for the House of Splendors to sell. That arrived there on time. The remainder, though, was supposed to be shipped through Vesper Bay to eventually arrive in Limsa for shipment to Kugane. It never arrived.”

“I’m getting the sense I’m not going to like where this is going, Wedge.”

“You’re right to have it. The missing shipment included redundant parts for the barrier protecting Doma. Thankfully none of them are crucial, and we managed to route replacements for them today, but someone picking off that shipment is concerning.”

“Very.” He looked at Y’shtola, who was frowning, having clearly heard the conversation. What do you need me to do?”

“For now, ask the person who arranged to have the parts shipped to Vesper Bay a few questions. Very direct questions, as Jessie suggested.” 

“Should just send her down here, she’d have it solved in no time. Fine, that doesn’t seem too difficult. Who do I need to find?”

“A fellow named Vannes Arkwright. His family’s shipping company was going to make the delivery to Limsa, the East Aldenard Trading Company was going to take it from there.”

Baidar closed his eyes and counted to ten. “I’m familiar with him. I’ll see what I can find.” 

“Thanks, Baidar. Keep in touch.”

He disconnected and turned to look at Darya for a moment. “Can I borrow Darya for a little bit, Y’shtola?”

“It all depends on why, dear.”

“It seems I have an appointment with a lush that you nearly set on fire.” Baidar grinned. “I already scared him shitless when I overheard him telling someone about your encounter, but he’ll shit bricks if he sees Darya with me.”

Darya stood up. “I’m going with him, if that’s okay?” 

“I would not deny you the opportunity, Darya. I thought afterwards that buffoon looked familiar.” She smiled a wicked grin. “Give him hell, you two.”

“We’ll have fun. Come on, Darya.” Baidar launched himself out of the chair, waving for her to follow. 

“Is it always like this around him?” Darya asked. 

Y’shtola sipped her tea. “Around him, Darya, this is a slow day.”

Vannes Arkwright’s offices were small, nestled in a building just behind the main markets, reached by climbing a flight of stairs that creaked under their weight as they walked up. Baidar privately wondered if the Arkwright family had just stuck their wayward son in a converted attic as they approached the door. It seemed likely, he thought. The door was a simple wooden affair, with a placard hung on that read ARKWRIGHT SHIPPING, which was crooked. Baidar tried to straighten it, and the sign slipped back into its angle. “Fitting,” he said to himself. 

“Master...ah...Baidar?” Darya mentally cursed a blue streak in her head; she was, technically, still his retainer, but he’d essentially released her from his service when she’d agreed to learn magic. Habits die hard, she thought. “What was he saying when you overheard him?”

“Ahh. I’ll tell you later. Mostly he assumed you and Y’shtola were involved.” He reached out and tried the doorknob, which opened. “Mostly.” 

Thankfully he did not notice her blushing as they stepped into the office. 

The office was a small room, the floors paneled with wood, the walls and ceiling otherwise the masonry blocks that were typical of Mor Dhona. It was furnished with a desk, a single wooden chair, and a filing cabinet that looked like it was rusted shut. The room was dimly lit by a single lamp, shining down on Vannes Arkwright, who was, charitably, asleep in his chair. The empty bottle of wine on the desk in front of him suggested that was very charitable. Baidar shook his head, then clapped his hands and shouted “Vannes! It’s your lucky day!”

Vannes yelped loudly as his head snapped up, looking around the room wildly, his eyes bloodshot. He first noticed Baidar and, in a slurred tone, started to say “What are you doing here-” when he spotted Darya, and his voice turned into a squeak. 

“Hello.” Darya’s tone was as cold as ice, her eyes narrowed in a glare at Vannes.

He looked from Darya to Baidar, then back again, then he dived behind the desk. “I am most sorry that I cast aspersions on you, madam!” he called. “I had merely been misinformed about...things about you Viera!”

Baidar sat on the edge of the desk and looked down on Vannes. “You know, I am a Warrior of Light, and she’s a gifted huntress and an apprentice thaumaturge. What were you hoping to achieve down there?”

“I...am not sure, khagan?” Vannes had mangled the pronunciation of the word horribly, but Baidar gave him credit for trying. “You’re not here because of the...unfortunate incident, then?”

“Oh, I’m not.” He jabbed a thumb at Darya. “She might be, and that all depends on how you answer my questions.”

Darya punched a fist into her palm. “I might be regardless of how you answer.” She was playing the part of being menacing, which seemed to be what Baidar wanted, but given what she suspected Baidar had heard, it wasn’t much of a reach.

Vannes stood slowly, hands raised as he found his chair again and sat down. “You have me at a loss, though, sir, madam. What is this about then?”

“For reasons completely unclear to me, the Ironworks contracted your family to deliver rather crucial parts from Vesper Bay to Limsa,” Baidar began. “They never reached Limsa.” 

Vannes blinked once, then twice. “That’s impossible,” he said. He sat upright in his chair. “That’s the only bloody shipment I’ve made in the past month, I made certain it arrived. I even contacted our warehouse in Vesper Bay, confirmed the delivery. We don’t get a lot of magitek parts here, that usually gets directly routed to Rowena, so I paid attention. I’m certain it arrived safely” 

Baidar frowned. “Are you just saying what I want to hear?”

 Vannes was quiet for a moment, considering his response. Finally, he spoke. “I am many things, sir. A man...a hero such as yourself...can doubtlessly tell what a lot of them are. But a shipment from the Ironworks of valuable parts that is meant to eventually be delivered to the East Aldenard Trading Company? Even I wouldn’t fuck that up.”

“That’s still up for debate.” Baidar stood and flashed Vannes a grin. “Right, then. Next stop is your warehouse in Vesper Bay then. Best let Y’shtola know before I go, if you still want to go along, Darya.”

She shrugged, doing her best to hide just how interested she was in going with him. “If you want me along, that is.”

“Sure.” He turned and looked at Vannes. “If I find out you’ve lied to me in any way…”

“I won’t be here when you get back,” he replied. 

“Excellent! It wouldn’t save you, but I like your spirit. Come on, Darya.” 

Vannes did his best not to admire Darya as she left with Baidar-in fairness, that damned Ironworks gear fit like a second skin-and as soon as the door shut he slumped in his chair and let out a deep breath. He needed a drink. 

Or ten.