Thine Brother’s Keeper pt.6

(Part one can be found here.)

Now…

In the same year, the star saw the liberation of two nations from the iron fist of the Garlean Empire, once considered the greatest existential threat to all nations. There were many other dominos to fall of course, but the Garleans’ defeat at the peak of the End of Days truly started all those years ago, when the Warrior of Light lead the charge against Castellum Velodyna, and took the outpost for the Alliance, and the Ala Mhigan resistance. A decisive victory that turned the tide of the war on both fronts…

And Rosetta wasn’t around for any of it. When full scale war broke out in Ghimlyt, the dragoon took part in a number of engagements of course, everyone did then. The ferocious white tiger that was the Garlean Empire was fighting back with all it had, and you either fought or risked everyone and everything you ever knew being lost. But as for the Stormblood campaign itself? Rosetta was… otherwise occupied. So while a great many adventurers have a romantic view of the Ruby Sea—pirates, long lost nations, and a civil war between two tribes of giant talking turtles—Rosetta just sees the region as a pain, with today being no exception.

“Rosetta Nemo the Ninth,” The confederate pirate Woh-Sahn calls out, leaning against the pillar at the top of the stone stairs, “what a pleasant surprise!” He says with a sly grin as he eats his apple. A local of Othard, Woh-Sahn is a mid sized Hyur with a darker tan than most in the region, and wild burgundy hair.

“Really?” Rosetta asks, sounding unimpressed. “Here I thought you were better connected, Sahn. How disappointing. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got places to be.” She moves to continue past him at the top of the stairs but he reaches a hand out to grab her arm.

“Now, I know you’re not thinking of continuing on without paying the Ruby Price?” He offers a smile that barely shrouds the threat behind his eyes. “That would be in bad taste.”

Rosetta looks down at his hand, and pulls away sharply. “Are you even allowed to conduct business here?” She asks with a daring grin. “One word from me and—”

“And these men will have you in shackles and hauled up before the Sekiseigumi themselves.” He says with a smile, equally as daring. “See? I’m better connected than you thought, hm? So, which do you think they care about more? Conducting Confederate affairs on the outskirts of Kugane’s authority, or a woman wanted on suspicion of illegal activity in the capital?” He lets the threat linger a moment, not breaking eye contact with the much taller woman for even a moment.

With a puff of air out of her nose, she rolls her eye and reaches for her coin purse. “Ruby tithe my ass…” She mutters, prompting a scowl from Woh-Sahn, as he once again reaches out to grab her hand.

“See, that there is going to cost you more. We can’t afford to have you prancing around, uttering threats against the Confederacy,” He says with a dangerous smile. “I think we better make sure you get to your destination safely,” Woh-Sahn gestures to a small boat on the other end of the Ruby Price, where two of his compatriots await, “for a fee, of course.” Running her tongue against the back of her lower lip, she telegraphs the rage building beneath the surface. After a moment, she gestures for him to lead on, only for Woh-Sahn to make the same gesture to her.

4 Moons Ago…

“By the Kami, the 12, and the seven hells,” a tall man with a most prominent grey moustache says as he enters the lavish apartment, “how did you manage to afford a place like this?”

Bar-Weith turns away from the window to regard the tall Midlander. “Kugane insists upon itself, much as any city does.” He takes a long breath, and gestures around. The apartment is well furnished, with ornate eastern trappings and artwork. A large bedroom lies behind sliding doors to the right as you walk in, with a large kitchen area to the left. And in the center, a well put together living area, all decorated with high class company in mind. A low table, an ancient tea set, a bamboo water fixture, a golden orchestrion player, and a low cabinet filled with the finest sakes. “It pretends to be a city of the people, but it has the same weaknesses as any other city-state.”

A grin curls at the corner of the tall man’s lips, sensing the impending monologue.

“Ul-Dah cried hardship and poverty, claiming to be buckling under the weight of the Ala Mhigan refugees, yet their various trade monopolies held dozens of residences and ornate mansions for themselves. Limsa,” he scoffs, “pretending that they’re not still pirates. The Admiral can prance around as a head of state all she likes, but she knows just as anyone else as long as the piracy furthers her goals, she cares not. The Gridanian upper crust pushes the narrative of foreigners encroaching and not enough room in the Twelveswood… Yet they block off their residential areas to the ‘lesser folk’ don’t they? Dedicated guards at the gate and everything.”

“Indeed they do.” He replies with a satisfied smile. “All of this to say?”

“All of this to say,” Bar-Weith takes a long breath and lets it out slowly, calming his excited nerves. “All of this to say, he had to either give up his mistress’ apartment, or I would tell his betrothed where he was really spending his nights.”

The man chuckles, pouring himself a cup of tea. Adjusting his leather vest he looks to the two shinobi who had escorted him in, and then back to Bar-Weith, instructing him to dismiss them both without saying a word. The Hrothgar looks to them and nods his head, prompting them both to leave, but not before shooting a sideways look at the Midlander. “So, everything proceeds apace then?”

Bar-Weith nods. “We found a marksman to replace your man, as promised.”

“Good enough to…?” He gestures to the window as he moves to stand next to Bar-Weith.

Bar-Weith bobs his head side to side. “Not yet, but he—”

“Not yet?” The man turns his head sharply towards the Hrothgar, his eyebrow above the eyepatch on his left side popping up. “Oooooh I’m afraid that’s not going to cut it, my friend.”

Bar-Weith snaps back at him, a low growl in his voice. “Don’t presume to tell me what will or won’t cut it.” A snarl forms at the side of his mouth, but he calms himself quickly. “You came to me with a sniper then asked me to replace them with barely 7 Moons to go.”

“As I told you before, that couldn’t be helped.” He replies admonishing Bar-Weith. “Now if you don’t have what it takes to get this—”

“Don’t talk to me about having what it takes.” Bar-Weith warns with a shake of his head. “You came to me, remember? You came to me because you stumbled backwards into my organization and it almost cost you your life.”

“Well,” he chuckles, “it did cost me my gil. A lot of it.”

“Yes it did.”

“Yes. It did. And it cost me several princes more to hire you, and for that cost I expect results.”

“And you’ll have them.” Bar-Weith emphasizes with a tone of finality. “As I was saying before, he will be ready. But if we have to adjust the shot from a closer distance—”

“Any closer, and that shooter won’t be making it out alive.” A grin slowly crawls over the Hrothgar’s face, prompting the midlander to lurch his head back in a combination of shock and appreciation. “Ready to sacrifice your own man?”

The Hrothgar lets out a single laugh, shaking his head. “Have you learned nothing? He’s no more my man than the magistrate who I blackmailed for this apartment. If he can’t make the shot from here, he’ll make the shot from closer… And it’ll be blood on someone else’s knife instead of my own when it’s done.”

The Hyur laughs now, and claps Bar-Weith on the shoulder, who regards the gesture with some distain, though his benefactor doesn’t seem to notice. He moves to the window and looks out. Below them both, an almost completely unobstructed view of the Port of Kugane.