(1866-02-03) Missing Wares
Missing Wares
Summary: Talia questions Myrana on why exactly seemingly missing cargo was found in D'Armaz warehouses while Philippe looks on. In addition, Talia rewards Philippe for his part in purging Marchette's competition
Date: 02/03/1866
Related: Syndicate stuff involving missing slaves, Marchette info…that sort of thing.
NPCs: {$npc}
Players:
Talia  Myrana  Philippe  

Four Corners - d'Geroux Manse
In Scene Set
3rd of Fervier, 1866

Talia had not been expecting in the afternoon to be called away as she was, and thus had sent a missive to Philippe that his presence was required at her manse. Of course, when he arrived, Sophia would've sent him into the waiting room with food and drink to keep him company, explaining that Talia was out on business and should return.

And, that business was now - at least, that specific business had been resolved. But it had also cropped up an entirely new set of business to handle. And so, with her hand gently on Myrana's back, Talia guides the daughter of the other Syndicate head back to her home, and into that very waiting room, without saying a word.

When the bard arrived at the d'Geroux manse, he was without his signature item….the lute. The tell-tale sign of a bandaged left hand betrayed the fact that he couldn't play it, even if he wanted to. So, when Sophia leads Philippe to the waiting room…he has naught to do but wait. But…waiting comes difficult for Philippe. A leather-bound book is produced from a matching leather pouch…a travel inkwell and pen from another…and down Philippe sits, practicing his *other* talents.

It is the scene that Talia walks into, with Myrana in tow. The book, propped open with the left hand, while Philippe leans forward, seemingly writing the same thing, over and over. In different styles…different scripts. All completely different from his own.

Myrana looks drawn, to say the least. Her hands are folded before her and she walks with a crisp click of bootheels into the waiting room, dressed in a pair of tight black breeches and a simple shirt beneath a leather cincher, with her hair braided down her back; not the normal attire for the young d'Armaz at all, but rather one, in combination with the cloth mask that now lies pulled down in a drape around her neck, that suggests her to be a member of Talia's soldatos. They must have been to see Marchette.

"Surely Madame, you don't think I have considered outpacing you," she's saying as she's led into the room.

She sees Philippe there as she's guided in and her dark eyes flicker over him assessingly, but distractedly. The bandage on his hand especially; the last time she saw him he was a chopped wreckage. The way she has her jaw set and her white hands bloodlessly intertwined, she is not pleased to have Talia's hand between her shoulderblades, as if her nerves were crawling and her heart were thumping in alarm.

"Philippe." Talia's cold inflection would give two indicators to Philippe. The first? Tread carefully. The second? He is not the source of her mood. Which is a good thing.

And once the two of them, Talia and Myrana, are in the room, Talia has Sophia step to the door and close it from the outside. Make no mistake. Sophia will make certain they aren't disturbed. And that Myrana doesn't leave without Talia's permission.

"You told me," Talia measures to Myrana, in that same cold voice, "That no shipments were missing from your father's fleet, Myrana. I have it on good authority it is otherwise. And now? Now I find that either my shipment - or another's of the Syndicate family is in your warehouse, Myrana." Talia's steady eyes focus on the younger girl. "What -am- I to think?"

Sharp blue eyes flicker up…but only when his name is called. He, of course, knew when the two had entered, but Philippe chose not to respond directly, allowing his patron to speak first. And…it is apparent that he is glad to have chosen that action. There is a nod to Talia, but only that. He remains quiet.

The bard, however, does close his notebook, setting aside the quill to bring his full attention to both Talia and the lady Myrana. From the way he moves…he betrays stiffness, showing that there is more perhaps bandaged that just his left hand. However, wounds have not taken away his perceptive nature. The way that Myrana carries herself, just on the edge of trembling. The cool manner of Talia's address. All is noted…and stored away.

Myrana steps forward and turns on a heel so that she faces Talia, meeting the Capofamiglia's eyes with a frown. Her hands remain knitted together before her middle, and either she is unaware of how bloodless they are given how hard she is clenching them to the stays of the corset or considers this a lesser evil to letting them shake. Either way, she has what might, in other circumstances, be called marvelous control of herself, considering that she is not too stupid to realize what Talia is capable of doing.

"I told you that I did not know of any missing shipments," she says, rather tartly maybe from nerves. "I am not my father's caporegime; that is my brother."

"Philippe," Talia calls, turning her attention away from Myrana. "I brought Myrana into our little - investigation on good faith. That we should not suffer from manipulation of another party. That we should prevent another Shadow War between the families. She told me," Talia says, gesturing vaugely towards Myrana, "That she was unaware of any shipments from the D'Armaz going missing. I found out otherwise." Talia's features turn thin. "Then, I found that either our merchandise, or the Whyte's missing merchandise - is in her families warehouse."

Talia pauses, eyes focusing on Myrana. "Tell me, Philippe. What would you do, in my stead?"

The glance from Talia to Myrana is slight…but noticeable. There is a tinge of…remorse?…in Philippe's features. He seems to understand exactly what level of trouble the young lady may be in, especially with her close proximity to Talia. However, he was asked a question. And, Philippe answers.

"I would question exactly what merchandise is in the warehouse, be it our own or the Whyte's. And…then I would question how, exactly, it managed to find its way to the warehouse. And, more importantly…why it is there." There is a slight paling of his tone as he speaks what comes to his mind next. "I would be very persuasive and use my talents…in whatever capacity…to divine those answers."

Myrana glances over her shoulder at Philippe at his last reply. She doesn't quite meet his gaze in that glance; what else could he say, really? This is the sort of Reality one lives in within the Syndicate. Loyalty above all else is the mark of the one who survives beyond the first little storms. She looks back at Talia, and lets a controlled breath out through her nose. "Why would he have kept your… sh-shipment?" She asks.

"Very good question, that," Talia agrees to Myrana. She nods to Philippe then, a silent approval coming from his sponsor. She moves over to a seat, and sits down with elegant flair. Her eyes shift back to Myrana, and she watches the girl for a long few moments, "If I find," she says, slowly, and quietly, "That your father is behind this, I will not hesitate to act. But I gave the al'Slynethar's my word. And my own findings, and revelations suggest there is still reason to not buy this fallacy. You, Myrana, will find out from your father who knew about the warehouse. And who had access to it." She does not seem pleased. In the least. "Someone is manipulating me, Myrana. Be it this unknown individual from Kentaire, or some other party. And when I find them, Myrana. Whoever it is. They will suffer. Do you understand that?"

"Perhaps you might check your own damaged storehouses," says Myrana, trembling now that the immediate danger of… of whatever it was Talia had been considering seems to have passed. "Whatever shipments my father is missing might well be found in such a place." She straightens, and smoothes her hands at her sides. "If there are persons looking to cause us to war with one another again, it would make sense that they'd go this far. It is not hard, with the City as she is after the Raid."

With that nod from Talia, the bard falls silent once more. He hasn't stood up from his chair, yet, and Philippe deigns it a prudent gesture to remain sitting…and only that. Myrana's brief glance is not met directly. It seems that Philippe is at least trying to provide the D'Armaz some modicum of comfort by avoiding direct eye contact. And…soon the book opens once more, as Philippe practices his apparent skill in forgery.

Talia watches Myrana for a long, silent moment. Then, she actually smiles. Barely. But, she smiles. "You've some measure of courage, Myrana. I do like that about you. Among other things. Let us hope that it never gets - too ugly - between us, yes? A valid point." She makes a mental note to have this done, to have a few of her Soldato's to check /every/ piece of property, warehouse, that they own, and account for all of them all.

Her eyes drift to Philippe. "You, my dear Philippe. Were impressive. I would have killed you, had you died on me. I've made arrangements to have your training regimen increased."

Talia's wordplay…particularly killing someone that has already died…draws a flicker of confusion to Philippe's features. A flicker that is quickly suppressed and replace with a smile of the bard's own. There is only one thing he can do in this instance. "Thank you, Madame. I am grateful I was of more use than target practice for our enemies." Mentioning of the increased training is met with another smile…though slightly forced. It seems that training…right at that moment….may not be exactly what was on the soldato's mind.

Myrana relaxes. Not because she feels particularly safe, as such, but because it is hard, probably impossible, to maintain the tightly coiled warlike bristle that she was effecting defensively for very long. She isn't, after all, a warlike person. Not really.

"I was surprised, Master Bard," she says, finally looking at Phil and favoring him with a wry, maybe even teasing smile. "It was my impression that you had soft hands and a poet's heart."

"Send her in, Sophia," Talia calls.

A certain woman walks in. A certain women Philippe might remember well. A rather beautiful woman, and one wearing clothing that would more befit one of the d'Geroux's dens of carnal pleasures; one that entertains those of the upper echelon of society. A women that Philippe knows - intimately.

"Philippe," suggests Talia, to Myrana, "Is full of surprises." Her eyes slide to Philippe, as she gestures to the otherwise silent woman. "You, my dear Philippe, have saved her." Talia smiles, briefly. "She is yours. To marry. To keep. To whore out, if you choose. But she will no longer serve in that particular place. You can even free her, if you wish. But, know in doing so, you will not get such a reward again."

Talia shifts her attention towards Myrana. "As for you, my dear? I hope that your father is upset at being manipulated as I am. And willing to continue to work with me. He is not one to take kindly to being played, anymore than I." The unspoken suggestion remains, though. She has not fully exonerated Adriono, with the new evidence. She just merely is clever enough to know there are other pieces of another puzzle, and unwilling to act until all the pieces fit.

"A poet's heart I may have….but my hands have seen more work than plucking a lute string." There is a light laugh as Philippe regards Myrana. "Appearance is just as important to a performer as the skill he plies." There is no other explanation given. There might have been, were it not for Talia's own surprise.

And it is quite a surprise. Of course, the bard recognizes the woman before him. However…to have her standing here, now…and told that he saved her? That is quite a lot for Philippe. It is a clear sign that Talia is pleased with him, of that there is no doubt. Philippe is quite taken aback…but somehow manages to find his voice. "I understand. It…is a tremendous reward. Thank you…"

Myrana bows politely to Talia. "As you say, Madame…"

FADE

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