Title: FFXIV Write 2024 - 13. Butte Characters: Solita Grey, Thancred Waters Rating: Teen Summary: Naturalists, man. What a pain in the- Notes: Weird Wild West AU - A Desertwalkers story
The Cat's Eye Cabaret was the center of cultured entertainment in Stonewood, attracting would-be stakeholders, investors, up and comers, and all manner of classy individual hoping to make their mark at the beginning of a new era.
Solita had no such lofty goals herself, but there was good coin to be made in catering to the tastes of those who did. And being known as a cultured consultant and companion herself put her in a good position to overhear rumours, gather information, and be at the forefront of certain types of troubles before they became problems. Her sharp wit, keen intelligence, and clever tongue were well known and well sought after.
Tonight was no different. She was idling on the edge of the cabaret, keeping an eye on her current client who seemed intent to ply the barkeep's wares into nonexistence. She was weighing the benefits of interceding against the value of letting them learn a lesson when a man slid out of the shadows and gently hooked his arm around her elbow.
"I am glad I thought to check. I thought your dance card would be full, but it would seem you've a moment. May I?"
"Thancred," she said, with a smile, grateful for the interruption in her musings. "Please and kindly. I am rather afraid my current client is proving a bit of a boor."
Thancred began to lead them towards a table, where they took their seats. "Oh, is she? All the better to nudge her during those negotiations tomorrow, I would think."
Solita rested her head in her hands, looking at Thancred over the elegant candle centerpiece. "I would prefer her sober for such, that I may be more certain my advice might -land- rather than be addled by her impairment. And I had rather hoped for some entertainment this evening, but I believe I shall be left to my own self, and her to her inebriation."
"Our dear lady Grey, has she perhaps judged poorly?"
"I do make mistakes, Thancred," she said, grimacing. "There is no fault in admitting so, and she may very well be one. Just as well. She is a touch handsier than I care for, and slow to be dissuaded from such."
"And those business developments she wishes to forward?"
"Harmless, upon consultation. She would prefer trade with the local Hhetsaro, rather than attempt to establish her own concerns."
"Ah, well, that does make our job easier, doesn't it? Hardly need to get involved."
Solita nodded, retrieving a flute of wine from a passing server.
"And how are matters between you and the school mistress? To hear Ryne tell the tale, you two are getting along rather well."
Thancred rubbed the back of his head. "Ask me later. I was hoping to speak to you more on the subject of troublesome clients. Specifically, where is our naturalist just now? Off on her second survey yet?"
Solita harrumphed, sipping her wine. "Indeed. She is down by the southern buttes, gathering... Weave readings, apparently."
"That's a fairly magically active place," said Thancred. He leaned forward, looking at Solita carefully. "Your sight would have been helpful there, whatever her task. She is still one of your clients, yes?"
"She is," said Solita, primly. "However, she did not ask for anything other than information, so I offered naught more than that."
Thancred looked at her flatly for a moment, then shrugged.
"Might be just as well. I ask because I looked into her, just as you requested."
"And what, pray tell, did you discover?"
"Zoissette Vauban," said Thancred, allowing for an unnecessarily dramatic pause, "does not exist."
Solita's ears went up just a bit, and she set down her wine.
"Well, do not leave me in suspense. Go on."
Thancred settled back into his seat, turning his gaze to the dancers filing onto the cabaret stage, though he was not watching them, not really. "Near as anyone can tell, she arrived from over the ocean - with the cargo. Registered under the Gorgagne Trade Company, which tells us nothing of use, as they provide shipping for a number of concerns. Most notably Kraken Arms, but they also do work for a variety of industrial concerns from out that way."
Solita frowned. "Former sailor escaping their past, mayhaps?"
Thancred shook his head. "The way she carries herself? Unlikely. I believe her to be of the gentry. Which, to be honest, to be a successful naturalist she almost needs to be, or to be sponsored. But my contacts overseas could find no note of anyone with her name in any journals. In fact, outside of her contributions to our own local library, I'm not at all convinced she's published at all."
"That says little," said Solita, idly. "I often do not bother myself to submit mine own findings."
"A terrible oversight I sorely wish you'd stop allowing yourself to indulge in. But nevermind that."
"So, unpublished. You said you thought she was of a high social class, however?"
"Likely. But none of the families over there boast the name Vauban amongst their number... other than a very old, very small family far in Gridania."
"Might this be another Aurelia sort of situation? I recall she also claimed to be a naturalist, only for us to find out her brother Alistair was the actual naturalist, and she was more of a ... venture opportunist."
"I doubt it there is any connection whatsoever. Vauban is an older family which has no eligible children as of now. Just an old patriarch who apparently is more than happy to act as a kindly historian, recounting his ancestor's role from the time of the Autumn War. So, historically significant name... but not currently."
"So a name borrowed, then. Perhaps for ill? Might it be worth looking into seeing if anyone is attempting to gain profit from such deception."
"No profit to be gained. Again, the name is only of historical interest, and the old man, from what my latest message tells me, lives in comfort, but not in great wealth."
"So that leaves us where we started," said Solita, thoughtfully. "A woman with no history and a name that seems at best to only borrowed." She crossed her arms, and sat back.
Thancred turned his attention to her, and watched her carefully.
"You yourself mentioned her first survey was of little interest. Simply doing exactly as she claimed - learning local knowledge, tall tales and facts alike, and verifying the veracity or lack thereof of such." He shrugged. "You might continue to keep an eye on her if you like, but other than her charming habit of stabbing the occasional blundering idiot who fails to heed her warnings when she tries to warn them off, she seems almost endearingly, eccentrically harmless."
"So did that Hemet fool, until he disrupted the Rroneek migration and got gored for his trouble," groused Solita.
"Ah, but I believe we all saw that little misadventure coming. And he was no client of yours, so you have no claim to blame, if that's what you're concerned about."
"You well know I am not. My clients heed my advice or not, and that reflects upon their judgement, not mine."
"Still affects your reputation."
"My reputation for honesty exceeds all."
"And for bluntness."
She glared at him, her ears going back just a little. "Is this conversation to be a criticism of how I handle my affairs, then?"
Thancred held his hands up slowly with a grin. "No, no. Just making conversation. I'd like to go to bed with my tatters unsinged, if it's all the same to you."
Solita shifted her weight and took a sip of her wine, her eyes narrow and ears back, but only for a few moments longer before she settled, apparently deciding to let the matter go.
"Well, I thank you for looking into the matter," she said.
"My pleasure."
The two watched the activity of the Cat's Eye, a companionable silence between them as the cabaret continued about its business.
"Well, I suppose I am obligated to child sit for a while longer, then," Solita said at last, beginning to stand.
"Are you referring to your current client, who I believe I see currently trying to balance the floor, or our eccentric enigmatic errant errand woman?"
Solita rolled her eyes at his wordplay. "Good night, Thancred."
"Have fun," he said cheerfully as she wandered off. He watched as Solita approached the well-to-do debutante, and began to try to steer her away from the bartender. Even at this distance, he could see the annoyance in her expression and in her bearing, ears back and tail thrashing something terrible.
In the meanwhile, he considered the naturalist once more. It had been some time since one of her clients had taken up so much of her attention.
He took her abandoned wine and thoughtfully took a sip. Perhaps he should head out to the southern buttes, and take the measure of this naturalist himself.