Private Tales Into the spiderweb

[Alicia Blackbolt]

Alicia pensively watched the glass fill with wine, crimson like liquid garnet. She scrunched up her nose at the unfamiliar scent of cologne - sharp and chemical.

Picking up the glass at length, all five fingers curled around it like it was a mug, she glanced up at him with suspicion.

"Thanks." She swirled the wine a little in her glass, uncertain if she should drink it. It was tempting to have Drystan taste it first. Then again, if they had wanted her poisoned, they could have done so long ago. She knocked back the wine like it was a shot.

She didn't usually drink wine - usually preferring cheaper or stronger drink. But even she could appreciate its sultry and well-rounded taste.

Remembering her manners, and that this wasn't in the Knock-teeth Pub, she jutted out two fingers from her grip, keeping it aloft. Making sure a little remained, at least.

"So. You're his manservant, huh?" Another rough swill, wiping her mouth with the back of a hand. A nasty little smirk followed. "How'd you get that job if you keep snatching yesteryear's wine?"

Petrus Ritus Iskandar

 

[Petrus Ritus Iskandar]

Drystan would watch Pneria with a smile of light amusement on his features. His head gently cocked to the side as she thanked him and he gave a small bow in return. Seeing Pneria at least try and seem somewhat cultured he would politely clap in soft motions before giving her a charming grin.

"Manservant is certainly a term."

He not-quite-agreed and not-quite-disagreed before chuckling.

"You assume the wine is more valuable than what I provide to my employer."

Drystan shook his head and met Pneria's gaze coolly.

"Make no mistake, Honored Pneria, even if our Lord hadn't used his magics to apprehend you I could have caught you myself."

His smile would then turn polite as he held up the bottle, about to ask if she wanted more wine, before Petrus returned and seated himself. He had no papers with him now and would, with a motion to Drystan, evidently signal for the younger man to leave before wiping his hands and idly addressing Pneria.

"With that concluded I have news for you. Your previous employer has been contacted with an offer to buy out your services. As well as the paperwork began to register you as an agent of this House."

Those amber eyes would flicker up to Pneria's gaze meaningfully as his tone became more purposeful.

"I suspect he will accept the offer."

Petrus then reached into an internal pocket in his clothing and slid a paper across the distance to Pneria. Written into it was a contract of employment. Listing her not as Alicia Blackbolt but the Lady Pneria. For her to serve as a thief, a spy, in his name and protect his interests. The benefits were.... manifold. The pay for each completed assignment in and of itself was enough to make a commoner choke on their food. There were even a few listed bonuses. The first, was the construction of a home of her very own after six months of dutiful, and successful, service. The second was the granting of a title of minor nobility after two years. And last, but certainly not least, was an additional amendment that a portion of her pay per contract would be set aside to fund a research and development branch of the House looking into her wound and, at such a time as it is completed, it would be delivered to her Patron and herself. Petrus's voice would then join a small inkwell being slid next to the contract as he spoke, low and intrigued.

"But what I am more interested in is...... will you?"

Alicia Blackbolt​

 

[Alicia Blackbolt]

"Make no mistake, Honored Pneria, even if our Lord hadn't used his magics to apprehend you I could have caught you myself."

Alicia's stared after Drystan. It was a bold challenge, unlikely to be tested. But certainly, he seemed to trust in his own skills. She tensed up as Petrus sat down, her previous smirk and faint relaxation evaporating.

"With that concluded I have news for you. Your previous employer has been contacted with an offer to buy out your services. As well as the paperwork began to register you as an agent of this House."

Those amber eyes would flicker up to Pneria's gaze meaningfully as his tone became more purposeful.

"I suspect he will accept the offer."

When Petrus spoke, she tore her gaze away from the door, forcing herself to look him in the eye.

Her fist closed so tightly around the glass it elicited a small crack. She looked as rigid as a plank frozen in winter, face uncomprehending.

This couldn't be true. It had to be another trick.

But when the contract slid her way, she knew Petrus was being serious. Unsteadily, her free hand pulled the contract a little closer, studying it, finishing the rest of her wine in a quick gulp. While she had learned her letters, at her elevation from pickpocket to burglar, she was still a slow reader. She took her time, bombarded by inky words, promising riches, land, titles, a possible cure . . . and a change of her name.

"But what I am more interested in is...... will you?"

The glass hit the table with a ponderous clink. Alicia, or Pneria as she might come to be known, hefted the flimsy paper. It gave a deceptive rustle in her hand. She held it up closer, her eyes first constricting, then widening with full understanding.

So this bantering around about her name hadn't simply been fun and games, after all. It seemed that if she were to sign this contract, she would not only sign away her former life under Velin's employ . . . but she would erase her very name. Take on the mantle of the lesser moon.

It shouldn't have been a hard choice to make. Most people she knew in the streets would have given their right arm for an offer such as this - nethers, maybe even a foot and leg, too! If this contract could be believed, of course, but all the same . . .

It was as if she would wipe away all her former life leading to this moment. The endless climb she had made to make a name for herself. The struggles and victories, the whispers of Blackbolt on fearful lords- and ladies' lips, or in the cheers of drunken rascals. What would her father have thought? And how would Velin react to losing a prized asset?

The paper went back down on the table, and Alicia's eyes sought the floor. She clicked her tongue in annoyance, chiding herself for her hesitation.

It would only be a cover name, for Astra's sake. A simple alias. In fact, it might help her keep out of unwelcome attention, mixing affliations with nobility and crime lords alike. This offer was the sort that only came once in a lifetime, and she should take it.

But there was still the risk that Velin might say no.

"And what if he doesn't?" So caught up in her own head, she had to clarify, raising herself in her seat and locking eyes with Petrus. "Accept, that is? What if he says no and I sign this?"

Petrus Ritus Iskandar

 

[Petrus Ritus Iskandar]

Petrus's eyes had never left Pneria even for a moment as she had scanned the contract slowly, wrestled with herself internally, gone through disbelief, to bewilderment, then to brief flickers of something near to happiness perhaps? Before finally settling into a cool caution at his offer. It was understandable, to be fair, windfalls such as this were a momentously rare thing. Thus when Pneria lifted her gaze to Petrus she would find him watching her with amber eyes that seemed to glow like smoldering coals, intent on her and only upon her, as he answered in a voice as smooth as smoke.

"Should you sign this then you are no longer Velin's concern. My offer to him is business as usual but hardly a bargain. No. You will be mine and all that that entails."

The word 'mine' was stressed in such a fashion as to convey firm, unyielding possession and authority but also an odd sense of security and protectiveness from a man who seemed to have little in the way of moral scruples at keeping his belongings safe. Belongings such as her, even. When he continued his voice was just a bit softer, quieter, but no less of a rumble like the onset of an earthquake.

"I am now in the process of taking up a longstanding position on the Allirian Merchant Council I have toyed with the prospect of claiming for some time now. The law of the land, as it were, and from my side you will have power beyond what your beggar-king could ever imagine."

Leaning back in his seat Petrus would scan Alicia's eyes in subtle, searching motions, his pupils moving in barely-perceptible flits as he asked.

"That is, if you are not tired of being the novel oddity beneath his heel, Alicia Blackbolt? And if you are ready to be something more than the circus act we both know they whisper of you as, my Pneria."

Alicia Blackbolt​

 

[Alicia Blackbolt]

"Should you sign this then you are no longer Velin's concern. My offer to him is business as usual but hardly a bargain. No. You will be mine and all that that entails."

Alicia looked back into burning coals of his gaze, her forehead furrowed with concern. From one hungry patron to another. If nothing else, counting on this one's protection against the wrath of Velin Deal had more odds of success than coming crawling back to him after her failed burglary.

There was an odd mixture of danger and protection to him. She had no doubt Velin might exercise caution around this one. Perhaps, this could be her way of paying him back for extorting her services.

But who was to say this lord wouldn't do exactly the same thing?

"I am now in the process of taking up a longstanding position on the Allirian Merchant Council I have toyed with the prospect of claiming for some time now. The law of the land, as it were, and from my side you will have power beyond what your beggar-king could ever imagine."

Leaning back in his seat Petrus would scan Alicia's eyes in subtle, searching motions, his pupils moving in barely-perceptible flits as he asked.

"That is, if you are not tired of being the novel oddity beneath his heel, Alicia Blackbolt? And if you are ready to be something more than the circus act we both know they whisper of you as, my Pneria."

The muscles in her neck worked with effort and a lump appeared in her throat, as if Velin's ghostly hand could constrict her voice from accepting. Petrus was intending to take over the city? Madness. Absolute madness. Run, she could almost hear Velin's velvety voice urge, run as far away as you can. This one is beyond you. Alicia bit her lower lip, her foot tapping restlessly below the table.

At his mention of her name, her eyes went back down to the parchment, hooded with thought, darting as if searching for something between its letters. Some sort of trap, perhaps. By now, she knew he was working her. This had all been an elaborate scheme to secure her loyalty, it seemed - or perhaps rob Velin of one of his agents. But why? To take over Alliria itself?

So what manacles rested within these written words? What had she missed? The offer itself seemed too good to be true.

Finally, she sighed, closing her eyes. It was just a piece of parchment. Lordlings might adhere to carefully worded paragraphs and letters of agreement, weaselling around with their scribes, but such games were not for her ilk. She didn't have to be bound by it. What was a splotch of ink on a shaven piece of tree to dictate her fate?

Her eyes opened with her decision, staring at Petrus' awaiting eyes, a lurking dragon in a cave of shadows. She would test his offer and see if these wealthy promises would actually materialise from the page. Indeed, she was tired of being under his heel, though she suspected it wouldn't be much different under this one. Stick it to Velin, then, and if this one let down his word, then stick it to him, too. They would all learn what it meant to defy the Blackbolt.

She picked up the quill with sudden, defiant alacrity, as if she simply wanted this over with, quickly as possible. But when she grasped it, a small stab of pain jolted from her finger. Alicia sucked in a brief breath through her teeth, looking down to a see a single drop of blood. A little fragment of glass, pushed further into her finger, from her earlier clenching of her drink.

She scrabbled out the tiny shard, watching a bead of blood bubble to the surface no matter how much she wiped it. Oh, piss off, she thought, hefting the quill, dipping it in ink and signing the damn thing.

Blood mixed ever so gently with ink, adding a faint vein of crimson to the cursive A - X that made up for her signature. It was as economical and rarely seen as herself, written like slashes of a tiny blade.

With a decisive sniff, she slid the parchment back in his direction, leaning over the table. Her dress crinkled and glittered in a movement not suited for it, and as Alicia returned to her erect, seated stance, she adjusted it absent-mindedly, finding it far too loose for comfort. She flicked back her hair with a hand, unconciously sorting herself out for this agreement.

Petrus Ritus Iskandar

 

[Petrus Ritus Iskandar]

What Alicia- no, what Pneria could not parse in the moment, but could feel, was that the contract did indeed contain chains and trappings. But none contained in the words written therein beyond what the law would enforce. No the chains this contract wielded were exactly that it was too good to be true and completely, bluntly honest. The chains were not forged of words or trickery but out of Pneria's own desires and wants, the only thing pulling her in and binding her to him what she herself would not let herself be denied.

The fact that reality itself seemed intent on making the moment poetic was not lost on Petrus as Pneria wounded herself on the glass, a subtle drop of blood mixing into the ink as she bound herself to him, willing clasping the chains of her own desires about her wrists and throat. He had to admit seeing such a willful woman bend and submit to what, in the end, served him was a sight he may never stop relishing.

As Pneria slid the contract back toward him Petrus would let the ink dry before binding it and rolling it, sealing it with a wax seal of his House, and inform her coolly.

"Drystan shall see that this is preserved and presented to the appropriate authorities."

Standing Petrus would then retrieve a second document from that internal pocket and move around the table to stand behind Pneria, reaching around her to lay out the paper on the table before her. Upon the paper were a series of notes taken from reports detailing the actions of a certain cult on House Iskandar property recently. One of which was underlined where a vague description of Pneria herself was located as he spoke.

"Your first assignment....."

A firm, rough, warm hand would land on each of Pneria's bare shoulders as the words came forth.

"..... will be to aid others in my employ at rooting out this filth that you may already be intimately familiar with."

The hand resting on the shoulder closer to her bruises and scars would gently tuck her hair back behind an ear, purposely making her scars and disfigurement displayed openly and not hidden by her hair. Fingertips barely grazing her skin before it returned to her shoulder.

"I trust you will be up to this task, my Pneria?"

Alicia Blackbolt​