(1866-09-10) S&T Adventures: Janey Was an Honest Maid
S&T Adventures: Janey Was an Honest Maid
Summary: Shirlyn is drinking in her family study in Firen, Thomas joins her and annoys her. She has interesting information for him though!
Date: 1866-09-10
Related: The message Shirlyn hands to Thomas. Message and a Bottle
NPCs: {$npc}
Players:
Shirlyn  Thomas  

Firen- Charing Manse - Study

Two large leaded glass windows sits behind a large table that is ornately carved with the suns of House Charing. Between the windows, the shield of the royal House Romante, a griffon rampant on green and black sits above the Charing shield of blue and white with it's golden sun. The chairs that sit in front and behind the desk are all well stuffed, covered in dark blue velvet and share the markings that are subtly set through the room. The table shows years of use, ink pots, quills, sand, parchment and wax, set with a mass of scrolls rolled up neatly to one corner of this large sized table. Other plain chairs sit against the walls, proffering a space, and seating, for a larger meeting.

This room is also the family library, though not so richly appointed as some. There is a single bookcases to hold the modest wealth of tomes and scrolls the family has collected at the manse over the years. With seats near the other windows in the room for comfortable reading and ample light in the day time.

1866-09-10

The last bit of natural light slants through the windows of the Study in the Charing Manse. Candles are lit about the room, the rest of the Manse is settled into their chores, staying well away from the Charing lady as if out of habit. Guest for the lady would be welcomed in and lead to the study, where Shirlyn is sprawled out across a couple seats near the windows.

A merry off tune song is belted out in the room that doubles as the family library. "Janey was a honest maid an honest maid it's true, but Talbard was a wicked man, that didn't know what to doooo…" A whiskey bottle, looking older than most bottles do, is settled on the floor and with the lady's fingers wrapped loosely around it. Shirlyn laughs as she waves around a sheet of paper she has just read for probably the hundredth time based on the wear of the sheet. "Clever little imp!" She says with a merry giggle.

Unlike Shirlyn, Thomas has engaged in no libations tonight, thusfar at least. Sober of mind and upright of posture he enters the room, a light, cobalt blue coloured tunic loosely draped on his body, grey breeches which stop at his knees and, of course, his sword belt. Though it is not far, Firen was considerably hotter than Ironhold and the man's been doing some sweating, well used to slightly more northern climes. His guards have already dispersed, presumably to get into their own cups and chase the pretty northern Galenthian servants. "Shirlyn!" Thomas barks, though his smirk betrays a total lack of malintent. "Ah. I see you're well hydrated." He motions towards the bottle.

"But then that Janey ran away, she ran away from Talbard.. Wooop!" Shirlyn flops over on her belly, her hair, loose for once flies all over her face. With a spit and a sputter she pushes her hair around to a manageable level and laughs, "Thomas! You made it! Ha!" The page still in her hand, yet slightly crumpled, and the whiskey bottle still upright magically.

She pushes herself back onto her back ungracefully. "Sit, sit," she waves a hand to a cluster of chairs, "admire my humble abode that is not an Inn," she chuckles and waves the paper in her hand. "I've got neeewwwws. And a gift!" she gestures sloppily to the bottle on the floor. "Whiskey? The best I've had in a long time, and that's saying something. Oh… I don't have glasses so, well, whatever. Drink some."

"No different than drinking out of a wineskin in camp, I guess, except that it's a bit easier." Thomas replies to the Charing lady after observing her antics for a moment. He scoops the bottle as he takes a seat and then lifts it to his lips. Initially, he's surprised by the potency of the stuff; just as quickly, it goes down smooth. "Wow. That's some bottle. Where did you get this? And of the news?"

"Wineskin, shmimeskin," she says in her best, well best for now, mocking tone. She does look backwards and smile at him though. "It is good. Oh… I'll give you one little guess which bugger had enough brains to send me a bottle of whiskey with the best information one could send." Shirlyn grins and waves the paper while holding it out. "Guess first, paper after," she says ripping it back with a laugh.

Thomas raises his finger and clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Ah, there, now you've done it. You've given yourself away. Who have I learned is Lady Shirlyn's most intimate source of information? The Minister of Banks, Mattias Thynne of course. Was it not him that snuck aboard our sloop as we departed Four Corners?" A one note laugh of triumph comes from his mouth. "Of course it is."

Shirlyn beams a bright smile and laughs. "Yes. And I know you are not nitwitted, here, read it.." she hands over the paper with a bit of a mischievous tilt to her grin.

Thomas falls silent once he's got the piece of paper in hand, finger rising up to his lips and tapping against them absently. His brow is furroughed deep in thought. "Obviously, he doesn't mean grain. I'm not an idiot but… what does that purport to mean, exactly?"

Shirlyn claps her hands, almost gleeful like. "Very good. How about you read it again and this time replace grain with weapons, Thomas." She grins even wider, before throwing an arm out to steady herself. "Hey," she says pointing to the bottle, "are you going to share that or… am I going to have to get up to get it?"

Thomas hasn't touched it since his first pull. He arches one of his brows at the Charing. "Are you even capable of standing? SHOULD you drink some more?" Never the less, he gets back to reading. "So Four Corners ships weapons, north and south. This is news? I'm missing something here, apparently."

Shirlyn looks around the room and heaves a heavy sigh. "You know," she plops one foot on the ground toes first, "you're not very nice," she swings the other leg around and slaps it to the ground, "to a lady in her own home." Shirlyn sits up and smiles, "Hand it over, Thomas Chandus or… I don't know I'll do something."

If face-palming was a thing, Shirlyn would be doing it right now, instead she just pinches the bridge of her nose and rubs her eyes. "No, Thomas, it would seem that they weapons are coming out of Alezzo," she reaches for the bottle with a swipe and misses.

"They are oddly going to Ryalta, though once they got there no one could say where they went." She tries for the bottle once more and frowns, "White Hall, which is strange because White Hall is known for their weaponry being of top quality. Why would they need it?" Shirlyn shakes her head for a moment and looks at the floor briefly, stands up to retrieve the bottle properly if not a bit wobbly. "This Captain Black, fellow, is the one that took the weapons to White Hall. Are you following?"

Thomas leans away from Shirlyn as she swipes, then pushes his chest out and lifts his head rather haughtily. Maybe he's putting on a show; maybe not. It's hard to tell. "You're going to have to ask nicely. You are a Lady, after all." He smirks. "Oh! Alezzo! I didn't realise that. Well, we know now that they were financing the Grey Prince, obviously. Maybe they sensed good business opportunity in White Hall? Ryalta's pirates, isn't it?"

"Nicely? Here goes…" Shirlyn grins widely, "give me that bloody bottle or I'll smash your face in… please." She stops her merriment and just stares at him blankly. "Have you listened to anything I've ever said to you?" She stands there with a wobble, loose fitting dress brushing the tops of her bare feet.

"The weapons were delivered there, you fool," she raises a brow and sighs. "Victor isn't gathering forces is he? No… he's got a sweet spot in Alezzo right now. So who's supplying the weapons to get all of these people involved. Well, it's that singular entity I was telling you about. Step One: Weaken Galenthia. Well, they've done a right good job of that," she goes to nab her bottle again.

Thomas holds his smirk, and then lets the woman grab the bottle, finally. "You still haven't really offered any proof that this mysterious force exists. Speculation, sure, but you're going to have to do better at convincing ME if you want to convince the Queen, you know. You're wobbling, Shirlyn. Be careful with this stuff. It's strong!"

Snags the bottle triumphantly. "Ha!" she says and takes a hearty swig. "Perhaps the Queen will have more wits than you!" Shirlyn snorts, taking another swig. "Oh this," she says with a wobble, "this is nothing. You should ask Right sometime about the tent party we threw after I helped open the gates of Goldhollow. Hahaha!" She laughs at the memory. "My hand was bleeding like a slaughtered sow, but I didn't care. Lost a few bets that day, too."

She snorts. "When I asked for the information, Thomas, I asked for weapons coming from one source being shipped to other locations including Alezzo and Par… Parth.. whatever the Abyss it is called. Well, I that was my answer." She gestures to the page in Thomas' hand.

"Oh! And Mattias also says that the paper you requested is at the bank in Four Corners, meaning, he isn't sending it to you." She laughs heartily at that. "He did say he could get it, he didn't say he would give it to you!"

"Partharia." See, Thomas knows things too and is thus an indespensible encyclopedia for Shirlyn. Or so he appears to think. He frowns deeply at the news of Mattias's coy behaviour. "That bloody git! I can't go back there now! What in the Abyss am I going to do about that? Does he want his bloody mansion first? What about his sodding knighthood? Gah!"

Shirlyn doubles over with laughter, placing her freehand at her waist. "Oh! Ha! Did you expect any less. It is dangerous to send things like that around. I told you that. As I said, the Queen is used to spymaster tricks. No doubt she'll listen and take stock in what she is told." Shirlyn bites her lip. "You need to trust me, at least a little, Thomas. What is the worst she is going to do? Tell me she doesn't believe me?" She raises a brow and the bottle at the same time, question and drink, ahhh bliss.

"Well, yes, that's exactly what the worst thing she could do is!" Thomas looks very serious, his amused expression from holding the bottle away from seemingly drunk Shirlyn having vanished with the whiskey. "Well, maybe she'll put her actual agents at your disposal and get one of them to collect the paperwork. We're nobility. We should be directing this kind of endeavour more than actively gather. We're better suited for that."

Shirlyn rolls her eyes. "She's not going to kill me for bringing her information, I say that's well enough for me, Thomas. People believe what they want to believe, whether you have paper proof or not." Speaking of papers she snatches the letter out of Thomas' hand, wads it up, and tosses it into the fire in the library section of the Study. "That's what I think about paperwork, I remember every word of it. If she doesn't want to listen, more's the folly on her then! She'd be just as much of a fool as you," she frowns and walks over to the desk setting down her bottle of Whiskey. "Nobility…" she snaps a look to Thomas that has a dangerous edge, "you're thinking like a commander again, my lord," she says that last honorific icily.

"Just remember, Shirlyn, that you aren't the only voice she's listening to. You need to convince her skeptical advisors as well as her. She's unlikely to take decisions in isolation and off the word of one or two people, no matter how loyal, so paper evidence greatly aids the convincing of other parties." His bushy eyebrows lift up. "That's because it's what we are. You receive information from your agents - see, you gathered it from the Minister, who in this case was your agent. Whether or not you think it the case, you're doing precisely what I said. You're not laying down in the shadows, but rather taking information, collecting it together and providing some kind of analysis to somebody else. That's what makes you the director."

"If you think I'm sitting in front of her advisors and spilling secrets that can get me murdered you are more insane than my dead cousin!" Shirlyn growls. "No. If she won't hear me in private, she won't hear me at all." She turns away from the desk, apparently Thomas is a buzz kill. "I am no one, I am nothing, I am a shadow, Thomas. I am unassuming and I am invisible. That is what I was taught, that is what I have learned. And it has served me alright until now."

Shirlyn gives Thomas an incredulous look. "You think…" she laughs, "no. That was not my job, that is not what I was sent to do. I was to observe and report, find answers. Not announce to an assembly!" She snorts loudly. "Maybe one day I'll be some noble lady and pop out a smattering of little babies, but for now I am no one. Remember that."

"You're not understanding. I'm not telling you that YOU ought to go in front of her advisors and tell them these things. I'm saying that SHE is likely to tell her advisors some of this information, whether or not she reveals you as the source. The last is irrelevant to her, though very relevant to your life and health. But unless she is truly singular, which would not be a positive thing for the Kingdom in the long run, she will run things by her Royal staff. That's the nature of ruling. I don't mean to sound like an ass, but this is something that a noble ruling in their own right knows; indeed, so does the Minister. We are not islands and are not able to get our job as rulers done alone." Thomas is in lecturing mode, though he is more trying to explain the concept to Shirlyn than preach to her.

"Oh," Shirlyn says simply, deflating a little, "well yeah. But you aren't listening to me either. Whispers are what they are, I need to give her what I have now. It is not one-hundred percent fact yet, Thomas." She nods to the flames where ashes from the parchment lie. "When you gather information, Thomas, it is not always written down. The listener has to find the truth in other's words. It takes a bit of perception, and a bit of intrigue, but all of it has to be processed. The puzzle pieces have to fit and I only have half the puzzle."

She walks over to stand in front of Thomas. "Are you understanding me? What I'm saying is that she's more than likely used to hearing words and whispers instead of hard proof. When she writes something down, it's for the governess of the realm or her region. But to commit something to memory for later use… you need no parchment for that. Indeed, with people defecting to Alezzo, it is best that it isn't, One knows who could get their hands on it." Now she is lecturing.

"I don't want you not to give her the information because I don't have my papers and yes, I understand you. Give her what you have; just know that it might require more proof, possibly even paper copies of the records that the Minister has obtained, before her or her advisors are convinced." Thomas shrugs, his alert, watery blue eyes fixing Shirlyn in their sight as she walks up to him. "I'm willing to help as much as I can, but this is not my realm of expertise. I need to speak to Her Majesty for other matters. Trade is an enormous concern, specifically in the Eastern Marches. A unified, professional Royal service is another. She has never really reformed the staff since taking the throne, you know, not as far as I can tell! If she has, it's completely obscured. We should not have to petition Her Majesty for everything."

"She must have the idea in her head that she's dealing with a lot more than what she thought. I think, if my idea that Galenthia was the first strike, perhaps Aequor is the next. Weaken both realms, and then over take it all." Shirlyn crosses her arms and thinks about that further. "Never mind that for now, that is for future puttering. But if my suspicions are correct, then I'll count that as another reason to believe I am right."

Shirlyn grins. "Do you presume to be a Duke? I ask only because is it not he you should petition? And he the Queen therefore?" She smiles crookedly and walks back over to secure her bottle. "Think about what you presume to tell her of her kingdom, and make sure you let me go first before you propose it."

Thomas rolls his eyes at Shirlyn. "No, I do not. However, while the Queen ought to be the one directing and making decisions about important matters that her staff then implements, having magistrates or a proper Royal household who take her intent and ideas and turn them into concrete policy is the most sensible option. The Dukes are busy ruling their provinces, and rule is extremely intensive, even when we pass some off to our stewards and other members of our household. To think that the Dukes should or must approach the Queen for every petition directly is madness. Large scale plans? Yes. Extremely urgent matters? Of course. But everything? No, that would be most foolish and a waste of both time and effort." He waves his hand in a dismissive fashion. "Of course, you first, my lady. Ladies are always first."

"That may be true, just don't find yourself in the position of being told to Fuck Off, you won't win any favors that way." Says the lady that tells people to fuck off all the time, Shirlyn snorts. "Oh, how chivalrous of you, Thomas," she takes a swig from the bottle. "Besides coming here to test my not-so-infinite patience, how well did things go in Ironhold with the asshole that wouldn't just let me hand his wife a gift?" Shirlyn's brow raises as she goes to hand the bottle back off to Thomas, it really is good Whiskey.

"Well. He's coming down here with his wife, who I suggest you would be able to cultivate a relationship with if you wanted. She's a lovely woman, humble and sharp. Just what he needs. Please, though, don't pay attention to his bad side right now. He's having a very difficult time with his situation. Dreadful. We've all lost parents or siblings in recent years, but he lost ALL of them, and in two bursts - one at the end of the last war, and one at the end of this one." Thomas shakes his head with a saddened expression. "He will take some time to recover himself. In the meantime, I am hoping to be able to rely on him as an ally at court. Both of us have served Her Majesty quite handily, I do say, and my presence represents both Viscount Reine and Duke Gauvain. We did much of the fighting and such."

"And you tell me that I need to be more courteous, it will never do for a newly raised Viscount to behave in such a way. Yes, we have all lost, but we all have jobs to do. His is more important than mine. But I wouldn't mind meeting his wife a time or two, we shall see."

Shirlyn lifts her brow. "He may need that, but so do I. I just choose to be more useful in the time being than being an ass to those that are lower than I. I've got better things to do with my time than grieve. Aidric," she taps her chest, "and all he meant to me is in here and in my mind. He'd be wise to do the same," blunt as ever, though not that it is the best advice she's ever given. "You hide your grief well enough, Thomas, I would trust your judgment in most things martial." A compliment? Maybe, though shirlyn shrugs and takes another drink before trying to hand it to Thomas again, tapping his arm with the bottle for good measure.

"I am of the same mind of you, Shirlyn, when it comes to dealing with grief constructively. I am not saying his is the right way; rather, I empathise with the pain of a close comrade and friend and am trying to both support him and point him towards goals that would be useful. I think that the hunting expedition with Sir Emrys went well and was rejuvinating, though. He was in much, much better spirits." Thomas nods at Shirlyn, reaching over to squeeze her arm gently. "I know. My brother and sister too, and my father, all in my head. Thank you." He takes the bottle and a swig for good measure.

"Then you enable him to act the way he does, perhaps telling your friend to get out of his own head would be wiser. I wouldn't allow perpetual grief come out of you, Thomas, it would never do." Shirlyn spares him a crooked smile at the squeeze to her arm. "I know, but how about redirecting our angst to something more meaningful and productive. Like catching the fuckers that did all this, hmm?" She hands the bottle over. "You're quite welcome, now drink up. We're going to have a swell time here in Firen, I'm sure. Oh! Did I tell you I have a business here? Oh… never mind. I'll bring you by the location sometimes. Now? We drink!"

"Hah, well. If we're truly drinking, then I'm smoking my pipe too!" The Baron reaches into his belt for his tobacco pipe, seldom used but just perfect for this occasion!

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