The scritch-scratching of a quill against parchment was incredibly loud in the area that served both as a study and as an intimate gathering space. Rosette’s home was quaint, small...nothing like the house that she had grown up in, the Valeria estate sprawling in one of the larger plots of the Goblet’s wards. Truthfully, she preferred it this way as it provided a cozy atmosphere for when her ragtag family gathered together for a meal or to visit.
The merchant dipped her quill into the ink and continued to elegantly scrawl notations on the documents and reports for her Syndicate patron, Lady Noni. The one benefit of having been so badly injured was that she had gained the ability to catch up on inventories, shipping manifests, a multitude of different contracts that demanded her attention, and some research into shipping companies that could move her product. Murdock, her retainer and right hand man for the newly minted Desert Rose Industries, was utterly indispensable when she was out and about with the Black Garden. The one-eyed, scarred redheaded Hyur and his chosen Elezen life partner, Richart, ran quite the tight ship on her behalf. Once she had been feeling better, she was immensely pleased that nothing was amiss and everything accounted for.
She didn’t look up as she heard footsteps across the floorboards above her head, continuing to focus on her notations and reviewing contracts. Nor did the sound of footfalls on her stairs break her trance. Murdock and Richart had continually been coming and going the last two or three days, bringing her updated inventories and offers from shipping companies that ventured to and from Doma and Kugane. She had a few ideas and had been up late the night before speaking with both of her associates in regards to branching out into supplies to help rebuild Doma and tempt some Goldsmiths and jewelers in Kugane--
“Well, dear sister, I do hope I’m not interrupting.”
The blood in her veins turned to ice as Alistair’s voice penetrated her thoughts as surely as that Black Mage’s familiar had. Her hand froze in it’s movements of writing and she lifted her eyes, taking slow breath and she forced her hand not to tremble. She met a set of eyes so similar in color to her own, it was uncanny.
The eldest Valeria offspring stood at ease before her, leaning on a decorative black cane with a carved ivory handle. His black hair was slicked back, streaks of gray standing out in it and he had an easy smile with a confident expression on his face. Tucked beneath his arm was a small package, one that had been similarly been brought to her doorstep a few weeks prior. He raised an eyebrow at her in question of her perusal. “Expecting someone else? Your retainers, perhaps? Or one of your friends?”
She just barely managed not to stiffen, mentally coaching herself to keep her posture relaxed and her breathing even. She delicately set the quill back into the inkwell, folding her hands against the desk and she gave an enigmatic smile to her brother. “What brings you here, Alistair?” She kept her tone patient and calm, her head tilting slightly with the question as her ebony hair tumbled over her shoulder. “I thought my last message to you was clear, via your retainer.”
The man stepped forward, dropping the packet of papers on her desk as his gaze turned icy. “Ah yes...how did you so eloquently put it, Rosette? Oh, I remember.” He leveled a glare at her, “You had her relay: ‘Go hang yourself with your own colon and suck on it as you die.’ Am I correct?”
That caused Rose to give a soft, amused chuckle and she grinned at him. “I’m certainly glad my message was relayed so well.” She waved her hand at the packet, “Since Annette clearly didn’t stutter, I would suggest you take your papers and leave. Your business isn’t wanted here, Alistair.”
“I gave you three chances, Rosette, to accept the offer. Should you reject it a fourth time, I’m afraid there may very well be consequences.” His gaze bore into her steadily, “That could make life very difficult for you and your ragtag little friends.”
Her brother leaned on the desk, his arms braced as he loomed over her and Rosette didn’t so much as twitch. Her heartbeat sped up with anxiety and she feel a trickle of sweat slip down her back, but she didn’t dare show a hint of fear. She raised her chin to look at him, her eyes narrowing.
“Since I can’t seem to beat the reason into you, mayhaps knowing your pigheadedness could cause your friends to suffer some rather interesting difficulties. Your blonde Conjurer? I’m sure her occupation could get very precarious if her shipments of herbs and medicinal supplies happened to go astray.” He gave her a dark look, his eyes narrowing as he watched her carefully neutral expression. “And your little Raen stray? What would happen should she not return from one of her little excursions?”
Rosette bristled a little, “Alistair...” Her voice held a low, but sharp warning.
He smirked in triumph at having drawn a reaction from his younger sibling. “Or of the Xaela? A Gladiator, formidable from what I have read in the Sands. I’ve been told he leaves the trips for hunting excursions often enough and accidents do happen...”
“Arik would kick anyone’s ass--”
“And then there is the Ala Mhigan. Oro’ete, was it?” He cut her off sharply and watched her go very still, “I’ve seen his name on the Adventurer’s roster at the Quicksand when looking to hire some thugs to protect my shipments. From what I can understand, he’s also a force to contend with...and yet not many know what he is capable of. The right word in someone’s ear and I’m sure his skills could be uncovered--”
“They have nothing to do with this!” Rosette snapped, rising and ignoring the ache in her midsection and shoulder. Her cool veneer slipped, her temper pounded behind her eyes and she clenched her jaw. She knew she slipped and had given him the thing he was looking for: leverage.
And the bastard fucking knew it, Rosette acknowledged as he slowly smiled. “Perhaps, perhaps not. I would urge you, sister, to reconsider the offer on the table.” He slid the contract packet to her, watching her gaze drop to it and he watched her shoulder slightly slump. “After all, you may care little for your blood family...but that is not exactly so with the oddities that tend to float around you. Think about their interests and welfare, since you seem heedless of your own. There won’t be a fifth offer.”
Rosette opened the packet and pulled out the top paper of the contract, staring at it, chewing the inside of her cheek. Faces flashed in her minds’ eye, the uncertain possibilities of their futures...and yet. Yet, she knew them well enough that they could handle themselves. Saphyra was savvy and strong, she could handle a hell of a lot more than any gave her credit for. Emeline was smart and rarely traveled anywhere alone and she also had connections to Gridania; there were ways around shipping blocks -- Rose knew that all too well.
Arik was intelligent and had versatility, the Xaela was built like a fucking brick shit house. She had never, not once, seen him falter. He wasn’t infallible, but he would be able to hold out until help arrived and had the ability to handle anything thrown at him. Mafrea...he’d rip the skeleton out of an attacker and make them dance with it. He would boil someone’s blood in their veins, then cause their heart to implode. Rosette would be frightened of him if she had any sense, but the way he made her feel--
She turned her focus back to the contract and to Alistair, reaching for the quill and withdrawing it from the ink well. At the bottom of the page, she wrote it out just below where she was to sign and handed it back to him. She waited with baited breath as he took the paper with a sickly smile to read her elegant script. Her heart slammed against her ribs and another trickle of sweat joined the first to go down her back. A risk; a reckless one but she saw no other recourse.
Alistair’s smile fell and his lips tightened, his gaze frigid as he looked to her and he sneered. “You will regret this, Rosette.” He tossed the paper down on the desk’s polished mahogany surface, her elegantly handwriting of ‘Fuck You’ plain as day.
Now, it was Rosette’s turn to smirk. “No, I don’t think I will. Now...if you’ll kindly get the fuck out of my house...” She gestured to the stairwell, “You saw yourself in and you can see yourself out.” She eased back into her chair, grinning at him like a madwoman.
The older merchant turned, his rage palpable and she could almost see him seething as he ascended the staircase without another word. Would there be consequences in the future? Rosette had little doubt that he would cause further trouble. However, she counted this among her ‘Wins’ and she was damn near giddy with the feeling. She leaned back in her chair as she heard the slamming of her front door and started to chuckle.
Yes. That was definitely a win.
mentions: @saphyra-tsuki / @healeremeline / @oroete / @arik (he’s a butt and doesn’t have a Tumblr)
Rosette pursed her lips as she looked down at what was in front of her, bloodied garments and Garlean colors crumpled on the hastily cleared dining table. “Everything was ransacked?” She crossed her arms, her gaze cutting up to Richart and Murdock as they stood before her. Both men were covered in sweat and dirt, disheveled like they had hauled ass to get here. Richart was slightly pale beneath the smears of blood and dirt on his face, teleportation magic having never sat well with him. The Ishguardian only utilized that particular strand of magic when needed.
He nodded to her, Murdock not daring to open his mouth lest his temper run away with him. “Aye, mistress. Garleans killed the entire caravan, save the chocobos. They took them, as well as all the cobalt and mythril shipments. The supplies, water, and weapons destined for Ala Mhigo were gone as well.”
“How many dead?”
“The six guards and four drivers, mistress.” Richart shook his head, “The caravan was small with only two carts total. One driver in the seat, one sleeping or resting until his turn as you ordered. Two guards per cart, one scouting ahead and one rearguard.”
Rose cursed and ran a hand through her hair, “Our damned luck.” She muttered, scowling darkly.
Murdock finally spoke up, “We might wanna hire additional guards next time. Mayhap we should be lookin’ at th’ Adventurin’ List ‘at Momodi keeps, eh?” The Hyur shifted from one foot to the next, crossing his arms over his chest.
She sighed a little and nodded, “See that it’s done then, Murdock. Get a new shipment prepared and out to our customer in Ala Mhigo as soon as possible.” She looks from the scarred redhead to Richart, “Send messages to them and inform them of the situation. Send our apologies and relay that the next order will have a discount due to the delay. I know some of their orders revolve around some time sensitive material.”
Both of her retainers nodded and turned, leaving Rosette’s formal living area and headed out into the desert sun. She shut the door behind them and turned, descending the stairs into the lower level of her home to flop into the chair behind her desk. Her hand lifted, pressing the spot between her eyes as the headache that had already been throbbing behind her eyes turned into a steady pound. Tension thrummed through her, knowing full well that Nanoni Noni would want a full report of why the shipment had failed.
She blew out a slow breath, her eyes opening and she looked to her stealth gear that was laid out over the back of the couch. Murdock and Richart’s appearance had not been the first interruption as she prepared for her mission tonight. No, message from Lady Noni had been delivered that spoke of Alistair beginning to make subtle moves to gain more power from additional backing of some of the Syndicate members. Luckily her patron was in a position to block it and quietly dismantle any growing support for the elder Valeria. There had been whispers of Rosette being unreliable and providing poor quality products.
Which, thankfully, Nanoni had quickly squashed. Though, the Garlean ambush proved to be a thorn in her side in that regard as well. It simply required moving some funds around, hiring additional guards and some adventurers who had little problem spilling Garlean blood. Seven Hells, she may ask some of the crew members to escort a caravan to the front line if they were so inclined and she would pay them well.
She reached for a cigarette, intending to perch one between her lips to enjoy…only to find the silver tin empty. She made a noise of frustration and snatched the tin, hurling it and causing it to hit the wall across the room. She glared at it where it had fallen, her glare so intense that had she been magically inclined…it likely would have melted.
