Private Tales Little Lies

[Mirriel Alleur]

It was nearing nightfall, but it was not quite there yet.

The fiery skies over Alliria cast their lurid light on its streets and homes, and the Alleur estate was no different. The graveled drive, the manicured lawn, the rose gardens all bathed in the profusion of reds, oranges, and deep violets as the setting sun bid farewell and good night. Even though it was late, the gardeners went about their business with the last light.

Mirriel looked out over the west garden, towards the delightful display the heavens put on. The roses were not yet in bloom, but the entire world had quickened with the coming of spring, and the once drab browns had been livened to green, the first buds on tree and bush only just visible from the second floor window. After a moment, the widow turned away.

She crossed the richly furnished office, the room itself looking more like a garden than a place where paperwork was handled. That, and less wholesome things too. The plants here were always in bloom - a product of magic, albeit not hers. Amid the profusion of green, yellow, red, white, and pink were traces of mahogany and leather amid a careful selection of books upon shelves. She paid none of it any mind, sweeping from the room as graceful as a swan or, perhaps, a lioness. She left the office space, and headed towards the foyer of the manor, with its sweeping, curving staircases and the wide open floor of polished stone.

She was not entirely certain how she wished to deal with today's subject. Customarily, she would only visit briefly with hired help such as this, but sometimes a more delicate touch was required. After all, the reason he was ostensibly being summoned was not at all what she had stated openly. Thieving and spying were things she already had people for. However cold hearted she might be, she was not willing to do to the people under her employ that which she would do to an absolute stranger.

Mirriel Alleur, the queen of the Alleur empire, would have fight right in with the nobility of any land. They played their great games and she, too, played her. This fellow was to be a rube, a useful fool. One she could happily betray to the very people she sent him off to spy upon, or steal from - or assassinate, she hadn't quite made up her mind how far she wished to go with this. A calculated ploy, this; he would be caught, he would denounce her, and she would employ the sophistry she was so skilled at to allay their concerns or anger, casting aspersion on another so that she could strike with her true attack.

Just another circuitous route to achieve the downfall of one of the lesser criminal organizations in Alliria. It wasn't enough, but it would do for now.

She adjusted her skirts and bodice, the vivid blue so dark as to be nearly black, embroidered with thread of gold and silver in ostentatious designs. The dress fit her figure quite tightly, especially about the waist and hips, and the ankle-length skirts bore slashes of rich crimson that matched the garnets dangling from her ears. She had not bothered to do anything with her hair today, though; it hung loose in glistening waves of rich black all the way to her hips.

A man in a well-cut coat stepped away from the wall under the balcony as she rounded the stairs to the lower floor, standing with his hands behind his back. "My lady?" he queried as she rounded the banister.

"Send our guest into the study when he arrives," she said simply. Her tone was brisk and business-like, without any of the honeyed smoke she employed on those outside her organization. The fellow in question was one of those, and despite the well-cut look, a thin scar across his face, pulling at his left eye, hinted at the more rough and tumble background he had come from. He nodded to her wishes and stepped back, and she swept her way through the grand open room to a hallway in back that led to the drawing room and, off to one side, a study a fair bit less ostentatious in its display of wealth than the rest of the estate, but far from miserly, either.

There, she picked up the book she had been reading - some delightful romance - and settled into the deep chair at the back of the space, behind an oak desk that was far less imposing than the one in her garden-office.

 

[Ryder]

To say Ryder had trust issues was an understatement. Not to mention, people with his set of particular skills didn't exactly trust the people who hired him, at least the ones who had as good of teachers as he had or as much longevity as he had.

She told him the place, and he stalked the grounds from a distance. The woman, who he could only assume was his benefactor was presently admiring the garden and her servants who tended it in the dying light.

It was perfect cover for a rogue. Ever aware, he stalked along his perch, watching for her in each of her windows as she crossed from the balcony to the foyer. Naturally, he didn't have a clear line of sight the whole time, but he would wait until she once more sifted into view.

She was wealthy, beautiful (hauntingly slow), and brazen enough to invite him to her home. She was either a stark fool, or a dangerous quarry. He hoped for the latter. She once more fell out of his line of sight and he looked at the sky.

Time to meet.

Keeping to the shadows, he remained unseen until the porch lights illuminated a robed figures approach. Pausing at the door, he would knock three times, awaiting the doorman.

Mirriel Alleur

 

[Mirriel Alleur]

She did not allow herself to get too wrapped into the novel in her hands, lazily moving through the words without really paying any mind. Waiting, as it turned out, was a common feature of the job she had assumed, and tonight would be no different than any other.

After a few minutes, the door to the study opened. "My Lady?"

She looked up, and found the same scar-faced fellow standing in the door, eyes sharp. She nodded to him, permitting him to speak whatever piece he had come to tell, and he nodded back. "There is a guest in the eastern rose garden," he said clearly and precisely. "He skulked in over a wall and has been watching the house for some time now. What do you want me to do about him?"

She set the book down on the chair beside her, and put a finger to her full lips, tapping them. Although not apparent, there were always several men and women about the estate that worked for her in less visible fashion than the actual gardeners and estate staff. The butler was an exception to the usual rule; he himself was no simple attendant. The fellow performed more of her...direct work for her. She was quite sure he had some knives secreted about his person.

"Just watch him. If he tries to slip into the estate, find out who he is."

"Yes, Mistress Alleur," he replied, and slipped back out shutting the door behind him as he went.

She went back to her book.

***

The door opened on the robed figure, the lanterns on the front entrance glowing a muted white and casting light that only served to shadow the fellow's face. The man in the doorway wore a well cut, well fitting waistcoat in black and grey, dark close-cropped hair. The ever present scar pulled at his eye, but it had little to do with the stern look on his face.

"Yes?" the butler stated as he stepped back from the doorway, and regarded the stranger. It was the one of which the watchers had spoken of, albeit rather than trying to slip in unannounced had instead come to the front door. "This is the Alleur estate. I trust you have business here? If not, kindly leave as we do not accept solicitors."

The scar-faced fellow did not look it, but he was ready to have knvies out in an instant if the fellow on the step proved a threat. In the underworld, there was never any real peace or security; that was, after all, why the Raven Queen kept him on staff and on site, among the handful of others trusted enough to look after her well being.

She had many fans, after all, and not all of them favorable.

 

[Ryder]

Ryder would give the man a quick once over, the marking on his face automatically giving zero credence to the rest of the appearance. "I have an appointment. And the knife in both your sleeve and positioned at the back would do you no good."

He turned his head and flashed a grin to the watchers, even giving them a wave. He'd already decided how he would get in unnoticed, should she ever try to betray him and even the score. Her level of security was exactly to be expected of a wealthy and widowed woman and he could already assume if the doorman was trained, most of the other staff were.

"I'm sure she headed back to the study." He would unclip the belt at his waist, surrendering his sword. "Sign of good faith, ill be back for that." Was that his only weapon? No. And he knew they knew it wouldn't be. "I'm sure I can find my own way. If you want to hold my hand, that's gonna cost her extra."

He would step past the butler and enter the house, vigilant, yet eyes offering brief scans about. Oh yeah, he could definitely rearrange the furniture in here. Do some damage to the interior designers.

He assumed the Butler would either tail him or shuffle to be ahead of him. Either way, he didn't care. Reaching the door, he would knock on it, awaiting permission to enter. After all, it was a swanky house. It would be impolite to just walk in.

 

[Mirriel Alleur]

The statement made little impression upon the butler. The fellow remained impassive. If he could have read Ryder's thoughts, he would have been greatly amused; he had been trained, after all - to be a butler. All of the rest of it was life lessons in the Shallows, and being one of the most vicious rats to claw their way to the top and keep himself intact. That, as it turned out, was the way of the underworld.

"Guest or not, no one outside of the Family wanders the estate without escort," the butler said in a stiff tone. He stepped aside to allow the man to pass, not particularly surprised that this would be the appointment the Mistress was waiting for. Whatever anyone thought looking from the outside in, no matter the finery and no matter the apparent adherence to protocol, Mistress Alleur was a dangerous woman in her own right. Even the officials of the city knew it, even if they could prove nothing.

His lips did tighten a bit when the man presumed to knock for himself. Even if he was an uncultured ruffian, and not part of high society...surely he knew that a certain degree of decorum was necessary when facing someone so prominent in the shadowy community of thieves and murderers?

The sound of shifting fabric, and then a moment of silence. "Yes? Has my guest arrived?" came the feminine voice from within, brisk and business-like as usual. The butler cleared his throat. "He has, my Lady. Shall I see him in?" The tone of his voice was a bit off, something she knew the raven-haired mistress would note.

"Yes." I have business to attend to, and this distraction needs to be dealt with. Never mind that she had called upon this fellow for her own purposes.

When the door opened an instant later, she looked up with surprise. The man that entered was not exactly what she was expecting, and his sudden arrival spoke of him standing outside the door when the knock came. Either Sevil had brought the man back here against protocol - guests were to wait in the foyer before being brought back, in case she was engaged in things they did not need to know of - or else this man was an ill-mannered ruffian that had either forced his way inside, or rudely insisted upon not being made to wait.

She would have to speak to Sevil about it, after.

"Ah, I see you have arrived," she said, standing slowly. Dark eyes ran over his body from head to toe, taking in every detail and filing it away in the back of her head. Her dark eyes glittered, but whether from pleasure of malice was hard to say. "Welcome to the Alleur estate," she offered, dipping in the shallowest of curtsies. Even so, it had the effect of showing off the low neckline of her dress, which only showed the very top of her cleavage and naught else. Effective at distracting, drawing attention to what could not be seen. "I am Mirriel Rose Alleur, the matron of the family. I am afraid I do not have your full given name, master Ryder...?" The words were delivered in a silken tone that fair caressed the ears, as sensuous as the woman before him. Her eyes still held hat sparkle, of mirth or malice as yet unknown and unknowable.

 

[Ryder]

Did Ryder know the protocols of high society? Absolutely. He just didn't care too much about them and a small test here and there would prove dividends in judging this Mistress Alleur. Reactions were always important. He stepped inside the room once the door was opened, offering a nod of thanks to the Butler.

"As requested, m'lady." he responded to her initial statement. His gaze was fixed upon hers, though that would change momentarily as she curtsied. He couldn't fight the grin, yet he knew the game. The calculation of the angle, the depth of the cut, this woman was definitely cunning. He would bow while she was in the middle of her curtsy. "It is truly a lovely estate."

Rising from the bow, he would give the office a small look over. "Well met, lady Alleur." Another grin. "Ruff Ryder, my father had a sense of humor." He would laugh lightly before his hands folded behind his back. "So then, what is this job you want done? You seem to be a lady whose time is valuable."

 

[Mirriel Alleur]

One edge of her lips curled in a smile - or perhaps a smirk - at his name. Probably not his given name, given the man was a clear scoundrel and no one would name their child that if they had any sense. It was already silly enough referring to him as 'master Ryder', given the context and connotations of the term.

It all didn't really matter in the long run.

"Snooping," she said in a lilting tone, and smiled at the fellow. "Ordinarily, I would send my own retainers to handle such a trifling thing, but those in my employ are known to most of the families in Alliria." Which was, at absolute best, a bald faced lie. Certainly some of her people were known - but there were far too many for all of the organizations and syndicates to keep track of all of them. Even if Ryder knew one tenth the part of who she was and what she represented, even he might be willing to accept the lie as truth.

"The Endalis family has been encroaching on my business, and I do not take very kindly to that." That, at least, was not a lie. The precise reasoning, though, was more complicated than simply getting in her way, though. "I trade in iron, steel, and various textiles, and somehow they have managed to undercut my prices significanty. I suspect they are smuggling goods in to evade import taxes." She knew they were smuggling, because she was as well. What she took umbrage at was the undercutting, not to mention raiding her own warehouses and stealing her goods.

"You come recommended for skulking among some of the more undesirable parts of Allirian society," she said quite truthfully. "And I pay very well for competent skulkers," she added.

 

[Ryder]

Snooping? He wasn't a cheap pair of boots, so it must have been more serious then she let on. He would make a mental note of that. As for regards to her men being known, that could have been likely.. but Alliria was far too big a city for people to truly recognize anyone beyond a Merchant Noble or prominent Watchmen.

"Endalis?" He would filter through his knowledge associated to the name. It was now locked in, the target. "Very well, consider them skulked."

Smuggling games were always fun. "Do you want a message sent to either the smugglers or the Endalis? Or purely skulking? I've been told I'm quite proficient at multi-tasking."

 

[Mirriel Alleur]

Her lip curled in a smile. Of amusement, as it turned out; this man was not capable of delivering the kind of messages she preferred to send when forced to it. That generally took several people, and made the Allirian Watch edgy for several weeks after. "You can do as you wish with the smugglers - they matter not to me. The Endalis family I will handle myself," she said with a purr for the last.

"What I want," she said as she settled back in her chair with a lazy smile, sitting just so, "is copies of their accounts. I do not particularly care how you come by them, either; the records will serve me in many ways." If he actually managed to come up with that kind of information, it would be as useful as the other purposes she was hiring him for. It would likely be damnably hard to find that kind of paperwork in the hands of a criminal family, but it surely existed. She had hers, after all; not everything in such a large endeavor could be kept to the confines of one's head. Ciphered, to be sure - as would theirs be - but a cipher could be broken, given enough time.

 

[Ryder]

Ryder would mull over her words and nod. "Consider that information yours.. and the smugglers will be rescinding their contract with the Endalis family." His hands would clasp before him. The way she had purred out that last bit was not missed on him. She was definitely a woman aware of her wiles, it was a noted and appreciated asset of hers.

"My cost covers the promise of a completed job, I've never not finished one, and buys my silence. Even the best rogue is eventually captured. Should I be caught, I would sooner die then give up a name." She wouldn't know it, but he had been caught once before, and spent nineteen hours under the blade and never talked once. He then made his escape. "And well.. its a disclaimer, but it's a reassurance that I need to provide."

Mirriel Alleur

 

[Mirriel Alleur]

Your silence is already bought and paid for, pet, she thought to herself with no small amount of amusement. The smirk on her face fit well there, accustomed to wearing at she was. If I was worried about my sparrows and finches singing to the wrong ears, why, they would never be given the chance. She needn't dirty her own hands with such things, of course. She was quite wealthy and, more importantly, had few scruples about dealing with recalcitrant canaries.

She smiled coyly as she reached into her cleavage and withdrew a small wash-leather purse. It was heavy for all its size. She hefted it in a delicate hand for a moment, and then tossed it slowly towards the rapscallion. It was still quite warm from the heat of her body, and smelled faintly of the lavender perfume she wore. "You will sing like a canary when put under the knife," she said sweetly but without any heat. "Any questioner worth their salt does not rely upon such methods anyway." Truth. Torture was not a method that would give truths - the victim would say anything to make it end. There were better ways to go about extracting information. "Not that I doubt your resolve, of course," she said with a light-hearted lilt. Adjusting her skirts just so, she sat forward, eyes tracing the man from head to toe quite deliberately and with the subtlety of a thrown brick.

"Regardless, that is a forward payment. The balance upon delivery of the documents I seek, and not before." She smiled at him, the light dancing in her eyes between amusement and something else.