#marked card

[cymarkedcard]

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[spyshop1989-blog]

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[blogspycardsstore-blog]

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[catnip-smuggler-radio]

A Morning Read

(Based on the Gala event from the ‘Marked Cards’ arc.  Frandrin’s reaction to the Sweepers turning his Gala event violent and stealing documents from his office.) Frandrin was having breakfast and tea in his garden the morning his butler dropped off the newspaper.  The lalafel was looking over  incident reports and damage assessments from the terrible night when Caruthers, dressed always to impeccable standards, placed the paper on the table and gave a small bow. “My apologies, Master Mandrin, but this needed to be brought to your attention straight away.” Curious, the lalafel picked up the paper and feasted his eyes upon the main headline of the paper as he sipped his tea. 

Upon finishing the article, the lalafel put the newspaper down and leaned back in his chair while sipping his tea.  A terrible silence filled the garden as the monetarist said nothing for nearly half a bell, his mind wrapped in thought.  The tension eventually grew so great that the stoic Caruthers raised a gloved hand to his lips and coughed. The act broke the spell Frandrin had been under.  He gave a small clap of his hands. “Caruthers, be a dear and make me some more tea would you?  By now, I’m sure this kettle is cold.”  Caruthers blinked.  Frandrin seemed unphased by this rather terrible discovery and concern for his master creased the aged elezen’s wrinkled face. “Sir are-” “Am I alright, you are going to ask.”  Frandrin sighed and shook his head.  He waved for the elezen to have a seat.  The lalafel folded his hands into his lap and looked up at his manservant as he seated himself. “Caruthers, we’ve known one another, what, forty, fifty years?” the lalafel asked, giving a small smile. “Since we were both Brass Blades.” the elezen answered calmly, studying the lalafel. “Yes, and in all that time, have you ever seen me worried?” Frandrin asked. “Well, no.” the elezen admitted. “That’s because I adapt.  Adaptability is how I rose to where I am now.  Tray and his ‘Sweepers’ turned my gala into a  bloodbath. A slaughter house.  They rigged the deck and the house against me and this article is another attempt to smear my name.  But..” Frandrin tapped his nose.  “They forget who has the best cards.  For one, the official statement from the investigation is already written. In it, the Sweepers will find that they, not I, are now enemies of the state for a ‘gross act of terrorism against the good people of Ul’dah.’  Y’mara has been buried with full honors and in death earned her fourth medal of honor.  A true hero of the city, cut down by these barbarians.  And these rumors of my Garlean sympathies?  Ha, a crackpot newspaper with a tiny following that clearly has ties to the Sweepers.  How else did they get the documents?  Rest assure, this ‘Paragon Times’ is about to have subpoenas and audits falling down on their heads like a hail storm.  Let them show these documents, and I will show you they are forgeries and that I have hundreds of documents with my name on them that show me approving military action against the Galrean’s.” Frandrin paused to sip his Luke-warm tea. Tray and his ilk are trying to play a game I not only mastered a long time ago, but also am the referee for. And right now, their playing dirty will be rewarded in kind.”  The lalafel smirked. “When they are at their most vulnerable is when I will strike.  Their loved ones will suffer, their possessions will burn, and their reputations will be dragged through the mud till no one in the hells themselves would believe a word from their blood-coated lips.  They think they hurt me at the Gala?  Afraid all they did was hurt themselves.” “And what if there is an investigation into you and Tray’s relationship?” Caruthers asked in a concerned tone.  “The miqo’te knows too much.” “He does, doesn’t he?”  Frandrin scratched his beard.  “But his time is shorter than he thinks.  And more importantly, he forgets himself.  Let there be an investigation.  They won’t find what they need to convict me because I wrote half the laws they’ll be trying to use to convict me.”  The lalafel reached over and tossed his last piece of fruit into his mouth. “Barbarians always howl, but in the end, civilization wins.  And in this desert...I am civilization’s champion.”

[tlatotem]

I think I managed to get the least valuable foil prerelease land possible. It's marked.