To the Honorable Lord Seamus Esterton, Earl of Elwynn;
We hope this letter finds you in good health. We do fully recognize that you may be in
good spirits given the loss of your lovely, and talented, Fiancee, Lady Genise Crownsilver,
Sorceress of Elwynn and proprietress of the Silver Feather.
Do what we ask for and she will be returned to you unharmed and in good healthy.
Violate any part of our demands and we will violate her.
Currently, Lady Crownsilver is under the effects of a powerful narcotic, one that renders
her asleep. She is currently on a four post feather bed, resting peacefully and calmly.
When she dreams, she is heard to say, "my dear Seamus." It is quite touching, a
testament to her deep affection for you. Do not betray her affection by going to SI:7 or
to any adventurers. We assure you, if we feel that if you appear to go to any group
loyal to the crown or church, Ms. Crownsilver will suffer for it.
Terribly.
We are looking forward to further negotiations with you. To contact us, you will need to
sit in the Ironforge Tram, wearing a the enclosed cotton leggings and new yeti-hair shirt.
Think of the abrasive fibers in the shirt scrubbing away the sins of your station.
The Earl was with his brothers when Baldrick came into the study, all of them standing and sweating and sneering at him as he made his careful explanations. Baldrick lowered his head deferentially against the assault of mustachioed Esterton glowers and closed the door behind him. "So you see the opportunity," Lord Seamus said, without missing a beat. "The chance, if we're bold, to turn my poor Genise's misfortune to an advantage to the family - and to be heroes in the bargain."
"You had best know what you're talking about, Seamus," snarled Flannery, the oldest of the brothers, "Or Father will slice your inheritance piecemeal and have you shipping an oar between here and Menethil." He turned on his heel and made for the door. "See to the details." His brothers followed him out, leaving the Earl to slump in his seat and thump the flat of his palm down on that cursed ransom note.
"Those short-sighted pustules! Flannery's going to turn this family into nothing but statuary, if I don't take a hand." He rubbed his trim, dapper mustache and looked wearily at his longtime manservant. "Well, what is it, Baldrick?"
"Fellow to see you on that same subject, Lord Seamus," Baldrick said. "Found him in the receiving room."
"A fellow. That tells me nothing, Baldrick. You know the questions forthcoming."
Baldrick prided himself as a judge of character, and a man attuned to events in Stormwind, and for both those reasons he devoutly hoped to avoid answering such questions. He'd been Lord Seamus's man for twenty years, and there were things he knew that the young lord didn't need to. "He's a man of consequence, m'lord. In the way of the streets." He hesitated. "I found him in the receiving room."
"Yes, I know. You said that already." Seamus rolled his eyes.
"No, m'lord. I found him there. Dake was on the tradesman's entrance, and Emory and his men had the front, and none of them saw the man. Just sitting in the receiving room, cool as you please, whistling, and asks to wait on the lord at his pleasure." Baldrick knew his limitations, and he was getting to them. This sort of thing made him desperately uncomfortable - to deal with someone who every instinct told him ought to have been clapped in irons on sight, and preferably flung into the canals.
The Earl leaned back, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Cat burglars and street enterprisers, here to commiserate on my betrothed. Charming, Baldrick. What's his bloody name?" Baldrick swallowed and told him, and Seamus stared at the note for a long second. "Is he being watched."
"Yes, m'lord. Got two of Emory's men on him, out of sight, where your lordly brothers couldn't see."
"Good. Excellent." Seamus rose and went to the flagon of wine standing in the corner, pouring himself a substantial glass. "You'd better show him in."
The two guardsmen had him not far away, in fact, idling in a storage room where even suspicious young Marion Esterton wouldn't find a reason to poke about in. He strolled in between his escort, Baldrick following in the back with his brawny arms folded. Seamus was sitting at his desk, composed, wineglass in one hand. "I can't say I expected the...honor," he said, unsmiling, "Of such a famous visitor."
"Yeh oughtay ken, Laird Esterton," said the Oathbreaker with his glinting smile. "I visit ev'ryin, in thir time." He approached the desk, hands held level in front of him. "I'm here 'bout Geny. Genise."
"My betrothed." Seamus frowned coolly. "You've seen the news, I expect."
"Kent it afore any ay thon rags ivir did, mate. She's yin ay mine." Tarquin placed his hands on the desk, with their long strangler's fingers, and didn't look back as Baldrick stepped up behind him with one hand at the short-hafted club at his belt. "Bleeds black an' red, she does. Been my wee sister fir years, near eno'."
Seamus took a long drink of wine, his other hand out of sight, likely to avoid the nervous twitch he'd never quite excised. "A Rider. I'd heard the rumors. Meant to ask, but - well. Will you help me have the chance?"
"Fuckin' aye I will, Esterton. An' when we have air Geny back, then we'll ha' the radge cunt took her firstwise."
The Earl raised his free hand, steady as could be, and gestured to the seat across his desk, glancing up at Baldrick as he did so. "You had better sit down, Master ap Danwyrith."
Now hang me by this golden noose
'Cause I never been nothin' but your golden goose
Silver tongue don't fail me now
And I'll make my way back to you somehow
Genise Crownsilver Abducted From Local Business. -Story by Ambry Nightbreeze
Just less than twenty-four hours ago, Genise Astera Crownsilver, proprietress of Stormwind’s own, ‘The Silver Feather’ was abducted from her office in said establishment, leaving officials completely boggled as to the circumstances.
“We cannot discuss the crime scene,” reported one Lieutenant Haylie Dannis of the Stormwind guard. “But we can say that we’re very confident her abductors are complete professionals. This abduction is simply too clean.”
Little is known of the actual abduction. We here at the bugle have even been stumped as it seems no one is talking. Rusanni Rusa, long time assistant of Genise Crownsilver was even at a loss for words. All she could share with us were tears, and prayers that Madame Crownsilver be returned safely. Her current apprentice, Ezylia deFontesque was taken aback, and completely perplexed by the situation. "How could anyone want to harm Madam Crownsilver? She's done nothing but promote good will and help the populace."
Well, miss Rusa and deFontesque, and all others who know and love the charismatic young archmage as we do, there is a small ray of hope in this situation.
I, personally, received a ransom letter in my mail this morning from the alleged kidnapper of Genise Crownsilver, along with a note addressed to me personally, reading that said abducted knows I’ll make the young sorceress’ plight known.
Well, Darklord Shado Grim, I’ll do exactly that in this article. And I’ll also lend every bit of power my words have to see Madam Crownsilver returned safely, and you brought to the justice that you deserve. Nothing in this world is more despicable than trying to earn the easy road to wealth off another’s hard work; and when you begin to toy with the lives of others to do so, you become an enemy of all.
For those of you reading, here is a copy of the ransom note in question:
To the Honorable Lord Seamus Esterton, Earl of Elwynn;
We hope this letter finds you in good health. We do fully recognize that you may be in
good spirits given the loss of your lovely, and talented, Fiancee, Lady Genise Crownsilver,
Sorceress of Elwynn and proprietress of the Silver Feather.
Do what we ask for and she will be returned to you unharmed and in good healthy.
Violate any part of our demands and we will violate her.
Currently, Lady Crownsilver is under the effects of a powerful narcotic, one that renders
her asleep. She is currently on a four post feather bed, resting peacefully and calmly.
When she dreams, she is heard to say, "my dear Seamus." It is quite touching, a
testament to her deep affection for you. Do not betray her affection by going to SI:7 or
to any adventurers. We assure you, if we feel that if you appear to go to any group
loyal to the crown or church, Ms. Crownsilver will suffer for it.
Terribly.
We are looking forward to further negotiations with you. To contact us, you will need to
sit in the Ironforge Tram, wearing a the enclosed cotton leggings and new yeti-hair shirt.
Think of the abrasive fibers in the shirt scrubbing away the sins of your station.
We will be in touch,
Darklord Shado Grim
It’s quite apparent that this man, and his cronies mean business. Firstly, to be able to even abduct a woman of Genise Crownsilver’s ability says something for them. Surely, such a small price for the saving of a life is worth paying.
Or is it?
I visited the Esterton Estate this morning, with an escort of Stormwind Guard, and the things I heard were quite shocking. Lord Seamus, betrothed to Genise Crownsilver, was unavailable for comment, but it was the very words of his mother, Lady Megara Esterton, that shocked me most.
“Who ever would think any common girl was worth such a small fortune?”
Seriously, Lady Esterton? Yes, seriously. Those were her exact words when presented with the letter, followed by a chortle, a dismissive wave, and her excusing herself from the scene. Luckily, we hope, her husband seemed slightly more worried, only quoting, “That Seamus has sure put us in it once again.”
Quite an overwhelming response of care and sympathy for one’s daughter-to-be, no? Let’s hope her beloved is much more willing to sacrifice mere worldly objects for a beautiful human life.
Not just any life, mind you. I could write an entire issue of The Stormwind Bugle on Genise Crownsilver’s heroic exploits alone, while I couldn’t fit the charity of house Esterton into a single paragraph.
Right now, Genise Crownsilver is tied up and blindfolded somewhere. On a cold, stone floor, bound and gagged, unable to move… Praying to be returned home safe, praying that the man she loves and chose to marry will love her enough to a safe and happy resolution to end this fiasco.
Wherever you are now, Lord Seamus Esterton, I hope you’ve read this, and are doing the right thing. And as for you, Darklord Shado Grim; enjoy your ransom while you can, because I, and the rest of the staff here at the Stormwind Bugle will put all our resources into assisting the Stormwind Guard in finding you, wherever you go.
Oh, and just in case you, and your merry little band of kidnappers have any sort of soul whatsoever; I have on my knee right now, a young girl who just turned four years old a month ago. She shares her mother's pretty fiery locks, and usually cheery smile. Right now, she shares all our tears, and keeps asking where her mother is. We here at the Bugle really do hope you're pleased with yourself.
“Have another drink, my dear Lady.” Seamus Esterton smiled for the rogues’ gallery as he offered the slender glass to the young Genise Crownsilver, it’s weight heavy with wine. Sandy locks flitted and fluttered about in the wind, and overhead, the beginnings of twilight twinkled and illuminated his visage, sending the Lady of the Silver Feather into a swoon. How gorgeous was this man?
Well, to be rather blunt, drinks add charisma, and it’s taken about twenty to get to this point.
“Oh, thank you…” She slurred timidly and took the glass, the same winds of deception sending the floppy brim of her sun hat into a flutter, and blowing about the loose ends of her dress as the small ship rocked about rather calm waters.
Seamus grinned wide as she brought the glass to famous lips, using his fingers to gently tip it in her favor, gaze hopeful as the drink rapidly disappeared. Brow arching amusedly, Geny let the glass go, allowing her would-be suitor to feed her himself - oh the hard life.
The jackal‘s grin grew wider as she sipped down the last bits, and discarding the glass, he slid both arms around the buxom sorceress, squeezing firmly. “I hope my ship is to your liking, Madam Crownsilver. Tonight is an important occasion.”
Her head gracelessly flopped onto his shoulder, well-timed with a mousy giggle and a hug in return. “It’s very pretty…” With a slur like hers, who would even claim she knew where she was at the time? “What’s so special about it?”
“Well, I was just thinking,” he responded, licking his lips and kissing her forehead. “We’ve known each other well for a bit now…”
“Longest two weeks ever.” She interrupted with a drunken giggle, digging sharp nails playfully into his side, eliciting a squirm and a ‘manly’ yelp.
“Right, right… Would you like another drink?” He winked, threatening to defy physics with the widening of said grin.
Six drinks later…
She now sat sideways in Lord Esterton’s lap, arms around his neck, hat discarded to the deck, and face snuggled firmly against his neck. Consciousness was quickly becoming a distant thought. A hand disappeared into the pocket of his jacket, and his breath turned deep. “Genise?”
“Mrrf..?” She moaned drunkenly in response, pulling her head back and looking up to her date with blurred vision.
“I was wanting to ask, at the end of dinner tonight, but I figured now would be as good a time as any…” The hand removed itself from the jacket as he spoke, brandishing a ring bearing a stone more valuable than the Lion’s Pride Inn.
“Would you accept my hand in marriage, and become the esteemed Lady Esterton?”
Genise blinked and stared at the ring a good while, her internal monthly issue of Gold Diggers and Players in the Field apparently on backorder. “Sure…” She slurred drunkenly, completely unaware of the circumstance and any other factors involved.
“Oh, Light…” Seamus exhaled happily, and slid the ring onto her finger. A kiss soon followed, and then nothing more, as the good heroine Crownsilver thanked unconscious against his chest.
---------------------------------------
“But mother, you don’t understand what I was trying to do!” Seamus bellowed like a defensive child at the stone-faced Lady Megara Esterton, fist clenched, and body cringed back as if in fear of being struck. No, seriously; stone-faced - as if carved from granite by dynamite.
Adding a gravelly rumble to her voice, as if she had smoked one too many cigars in her long life, the Lady of the House continued to prove that wealth does not breed beauty as she fired back at her youngest son.
“Oh, I understand exactly what it is you’re trying to do, Seamus.” her gaze narrowed as she continued, “You’re trying to put us all in a shack in the slums, poor and starving, just so you can lay around and waste our fortunes on dallying with another of your little high-quality whores. Hmph.”
Seamus fidgeted and scowled, he couldn’t deny that his affection for the sorceress was mostly physical - even if in their three meetings, he’d not been able to steal the pleasure of a night’s play. But hey, that’s what wedding nights are for!
“In case you haven’t noticed, mother, she’s only the sole owner of the currently largest leisure facility in all of Azeroth! We’d do well to have that power brought into our family.”
“Oh please,” Megara cackled derisively. “That trollop of yours is a fad. In six months, the Silver Feather will be a distant memory, as will her five minutes of fame.” A titter and a dismissive wave of her hand. “So cute, a farmer’s daughter thinking she’s on our level.”
Seamus rolled his eyes. “Funny words, coming from the woman who bought the third membership to the place, for five thousand crowns!”
“Yes, and I’m sure she’s already sprinkled the measly bread crumbs around to her scraggly friends and playtoys by now too. Forget her, my dear son; pretty eyes and long legs aren’t all that amounts to a good woman.”
“She’s much more than that, mother. She-”
“Oh yes, the miraculous, cotton-enhanced chest. Wonder just how much padding she uses exactly. Forget her.”
“No, mother, not that! You know nether-damned-well that she’s a powerful sorceress and one of the kingdom’s most esteemed heroes of recent years! I’m telling you,” He slapped a hand down on the top of the fine marble table his mother sat at, staring. “Bringing her into the family will give us just what we need to gain the influence above House Wishok!”
“Ohh, yes, Wishok…” She tittered. “Didn’t your fiery little harlot kill that one? In his own bed, mind you. And what about the Ridgewell man who tried what you’re trying? Conspirator to the Cult of the Damned? She really set him up good. I don’t think any tart can possibly be that good and innocent, Seamus.”
She folded bony, wrinkled fingers around each other, resting hands on the tabletop and staring up at the young Lord Esterton. “We’re not paying the ransom, if she’s so heroic, let her hero her way to freedom.”
Seamus’ jaw dropped in shock, just staring at his mother. Even if he wasn’t the most stand up guy in the world, leaving a woman to die in all manners of unspeakable ways due to his neglect was not something he could live with.
“You can’t stop me, mother.” He firmly retorted, jaw clenched.
“So cute…” Mirrors across the world cracked as a vile grin spread across her lips. “Run along now, sweetie, I heard that vonDreschen girl is feeling quite lonely, and she’s of right breeding.”
“But…” Seamus stammered, and growled, fists clenching as he turned and marched from the garden of the estate. Megara slowly shook her head, taking up a tiny contraption in hand that might pass as some fancy-type version of a buzz box.
Ironically, a purchase from the Silver Feather.
“Leon, dear… Bring your tools, I need to have a letter delivered to the Stormwind Bugle, denying any rumors that we might pay this girl’s silly ransom.”
“Teabags… Teabags, where are my teabags? Oh sticklebacks, I must’ve forgot them.”
Genise pouted and trounced around the small Winterspring cabin, like an addict in need of a fix. Thankfully, the only cravings she had these days were good tea, chocolate, strawberries, and randy men.
Lack of an arcane addiction didn’t make her any less upset about leaving her favorite tea back at the Feather when she came to hide for this whole faked-kidnapping fiasco though. “Well, I can’t very well go back to the Feather and get them.” She sighed, and stared to the doorway of the snow-hidden cabin. “Everlook - goblins always have the tea I love…”
She grinned and touched a finger to the bell-choker around her neck, body slowly shifting down and morphing into that of a slender, gorgeous, blood-elf woman. Such a good idea, thank Kael’thas. “This will keep me safe.”
Callie Summerwinds was almost never dressed like this, even in Northrend. But it was an especially cold day in Winterspring, as she led her kodo through the white expanse. Earlier in her walk, she had been forced to dismount from especially hard winds, throwing snow and twigs at her hard enough to nearly knock her from atop it's large saddle several times. A large, red and black cloak shrouded most of her body, though the hood had been let down once the wind had died. Her long green hair was still tucked into her dress, and a large over-shirt was covering even that.
She hadn't planned on her simple trip to repair a mechanical-yeti-turned-alarm clock to turn into the exploration expedition she had apparently invested herself into, but it didn't mean it hadn't come with it's own enjoyments- after all, there was snow. She loved snow. And normally, it was as quiet as could be.
Callie hadn't been on a proper path in hours, however, so when the familiar crunch of snow began echoing not far from her, she stopped. It continued. Something was close- I hope it isn't a Yeti. she thought to herself, biting her lip nervously. She would approach the large snow back hiding her view, the steep hill allowing her to crawl up it on her hands and knees, until finally she could see the spectacle on the other side.
Echoed chanting and the roars of battle carried on the wind and over the bank. As she peered through the storm, shapes began to form and come into sight. A pack of several yetis surrounded a lone blood elf in sorcerers’ robes. She weaved and unleashed arcane energies with ease. Her hands flailed and she spun in a circle unleashing a force of energy that brought the very snows of the area up to cage her foes’ limbs in place, which allowed her to suddenly blink away - almost right into Callie’s face!
She did it all in a pair of high heels, mind.
She stared, very briefly at the elf, before turning away, shouting a word of magic, and rushing the yetis! From out of thin air, the images of three ravishing redheaded women… Mirror images, not of the elf, but of Genise Crownsilver herself!
It only took a few seconds past this point, before the yetis all lay dead and frozen at the feet of the disguised sorceress. The three images all surrounded her, and giggles heartily at their success; was she imbuing intellect into these things?!
“You’re supposed to be ELVES, hello?” Genise questioned in lecture - but her images simply giggled again. They didn’t seem to know much more than the gorgeous laugh, and at this particular point in time, it was much more aggravating than it was cute.
She rolled her eyes and turned as the images all pointed in Callie’s direction, frowning as if caught stealing from a cookie jar. “You three are going to get me caught - oh Nether, too late…”
This would call for an extreme amount of quick thinking and wit.
The false-elf sighed as she turned to face the staring night elf, tossing a wave of silky-blonde hair over her shoulder. “Can I…” she blinked, interrupted by the shifting of pageant-smiling images behind her. Rolling her eyes, she fluttered her hand, waving the images into nothingness, and putting on a sly smile towards her company.
“Ahem, may I help you, miss?” She questions, head tilting.
Callie could just barely bring her mouth closed again after the exchange she just watched. Stepping further up the snow bank separating them, she stammered "Y-you're G-Genise Crownsilver. Th-the w-woman in all those missing pictures. What're you doing here?" She sounded as if those were the only questions her mind could formulate. Callie even had one of the posters nailed to her door once, and she wasn't uncaring enough to tear it off- she could tell this woman anywhere.
Genise, ahem, the elf blinked. “I suppose you saw that little blunder then?”
Another sigh escaped her lips; what a blunder to make in the middle of nowhere. Thoughts raced and ideas poured through her head. She wouldn’t very well kill the woman, and letting Tarquin find out would probably end poorly for the cute thing.
“Not so loud, please? If certain people find out, lots of others could end up hurt.” The gears began to churn.
"B-but what're you doing here?" she said, almost in a whisper already, coming close. Her eyes told it plain: Callie was fascinated, and had to know. "I-I mean, this- this is the other side of the world!" She only seemed to realize how much her voice climbed once the words were done, shunning her head as if she were being swatted at with a newspaper.
Genise smiled, almost sadly as the elf approached, gaze roaming the area - just in case. “Well, kidnappings usually don’t end two doors down from the scene of the crime, miss.” She tittered softly and gestured off to the west with a hand. “They brought me out to the middle of nowhere - who would search Winterspring for someone kidnapped in Stormwind?”
"Oh! Oh you're right. Then..." she paused to think. "You escaped?" She looked to her footsteps in the snow, following them back with her gaze up and over another bank.
Genise half-turned and followed the footsteps with her own gaze, head slowly shaking. “Not exactly, miss. As it turns out…”
She paused; a moment to think, or just for dramatic effect? “Well, my abductors have been rather benevolent for the scum they are. We have a bit of an understanding with each other.”
She furrowed her brow, stepping closer, her voice becoming hush. "An understanding?" She reaches out and touches the woman's arm lightly, her eyes betraying her concern.
Genise smiled - and another day was won by polarizing victimization. Her hand gently patted Callie’s, and she took in a deep breath, nodding. “Yes, dear. I behave, go along with things until they have what they want - I don’t kill my guards and escape, and they don’t kill several civilians to put on my conscience. It doesn’t exactly make me happy; but what’s a little bit of gold when it comes to saving lives?”
Callie grimaced, her own gears turning, now. "Who are they? There may be a way we can stop them, protect those people and free you- They probably won't even let you go with your life, you know, th-that, that's how kidnappers work, my Dad told me when I was a kid." She said in the height of her adolescence. She stepped even closer, constantly stealing glances to the footsteps the other left.
"I'm a friend of some of the Wildfire Riders. I, I'd overheard them talking about you once. How much they missed you. I can contact them, they must be able to help you. They're some of the best fighters I've ever seen."
“Some problems can’t be solved that way, dear,” she responded, and gave the elf’s hand another gentle pat before continuing. “You won’t have to worry about them killing me; in all honesty, I’d laugh if they tried.”
She glanced to the side again, eyed the tracks, and sighed. “And forget about that.” A few murmured words, a wave of the hand, and a sweeping wind brought loose snow to cover the tracks. “If you were to get hurt, or cause trouble that got others hurt, I’d not be able to forgive myself for not stopping you now. I need to find out the identity of the man behind this before we do anything.”
She bit her lip, shoulders slumping in a look of defeat. "Then, is there any way I can help you? Anything I can do to figure out who the man is? Perhaps I could meet with you and arrange for your rescue with some of my friends- only once we've figured out who's in charge." Her voice dripped with desperation, which made her usual awkwardness just shine twice as bright.
She gave a slow shake of her head, staring up at the elf a long moment. “Hmm…” She chewed on her lip, stared a bit more, and raised a finger as she spoke.
“Actually, there are a couple of things, though, they’re very minor.” She placed her left hand on the opposite wrist, gripped and turned it - then wiggled her fingers - dramatic magic at it’s best. She then released said hand, which reached seemingly into nowhere, and tugged free a rolled up scroll.
"I'll do anything to help." she muttered, moving alongside the other to look at the scroll with her. "What is that?"
She unraveled the scrolled, and let it hang in mid-air. Fingers grasped at an invisible pen, and began to draw a series of runes and squiggly lines across the paper. “A note for Tarquin, letting him know I’m okay. It’ll also let him know to see to it you’re safe.” she paused a moment, gaze roaming. “You never know, we could be being watched right now.”
She rolled the scroll, and gaze it a little zap, burning her personalized arcane rune to it in the form of a seal.
"Tarquin? Tarquin ap Danwryth?" Callie said, tilting her head to the side, watching the magic at play. "But he's been gone for two weeks- I, I don't know where, but maybe one of the Riders does. I don't know that I'll be able to find him, though." She swallowed, turning back to her. She couldn't help but reach up to pull her cloak back over her head, the cold wind starting to pick back up again. Almost as reflex from noticing, she began to shiver slightly, tucking her arms into her sides.
“Hmm…” Geny paused for a moment, watching the elf. Giving a nod of the head, she reached to her opposite wrist once again, this time tugging a thin, golden bracelet from it. “If Tarquin is still gone, look to give it to Annalea, and of the Riders can point you to her. Oh, and…”
She held out the bracelet, smiling lightly. “I can’t express in words how important it is you keep this quiet. Consider the lives of potentially hundreds of people if anyone finds out I’ve been communicating outside of my captors. Take this bracelet to The Silver Feather in Stormwind, and ask to speak with Laurie, she’ll help you out.”
"Laurie, got it. I'll go right away. Should... should I come back? Meet with you again?" She takes the scroll and bracelet, slipping both into her pack, before covering it quickly to shield it from the snow.
She pursed her lips and eyed the elf for a long moment, contemplating. “While that might be risky business, especially if we’re seen, it may not be a bad idea. Though, truth be told, I’m hoping this ends rather soon, I do miss my daughter quite a bit.”
Rosy lips curled into a smile, and she quietly nodded. “Normal folks don’t roam dangerous hills like this alone. So what do you do for a living? I… should probably ask your name too.” She tittered, shrugging flippantly.
She laughed, nodding her head. "Right, right, I'm Callie Summerwinds- or, uh, Summer, as Fells calls me. I can't decide which to go by. And I suppose I'd be called a Druid, though that's mostly for the healing arts. Which- they haven't hurt you in any way, right? I could do something if any part of you hurts."
“Just my pride,” she smiled and laughed lightly. “A druid? So I assume you can shift yourself into a cat, or even a bear like most others? Beautiful name, by the way, I love it.”
She furrowed her brow with a blushed smile, looking away. "Th-thank you- yes, I can shift into those, though I've never spent more than a few minutes in either form." She looked back toward the woman, tilting her head.
She nodded quickly. “Good, good. To the north of here is Frostsaber Rock. Every final day of the week at roughly noon, meet me there. Shift into your cat form so you’ll somewhat blend in, and I’ll give you progress to report back to the Riders.”
She smiled and gave the elf a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. “It’d be a great help to us all.”
She nodded, the blush deepening just a moment. "I'd do anything to help. Just... erm. Two things. If you have the time" She turned away a moment, before turning back and looking down at the other's feet. "Why are you wearing heels in the snow?"
She steadied herself with the hand on Callie’s shoulder and grinned, lifting one foot to show off the ridiculously-strappy shoe, and red-painted toenails. “Because, I’m a sorceress, they aren’t cold at all! And they look great, even when I can’t be my human self.”
She grins, nodding. "That they do. I'd love a pair if... well, if I could wear them. It's so hard to find heels in an elf's size." She sighed. "And... well. I always thought you looked so beautiful in your picture. Could... could I see you again? M-maybe?" She was an easily distracted girl, and in this regard, she seemed to find everything but Genise's eyes /very/ interesting.
“Laurie will get you a pair if you ask.” She grinned and glanced the area over, before giving a simple nod of the head. “And, sure, why not.”
In moments, she was a towering six-feet-plus again, pale-skinned, freckled, and blanketed in fiery-orange hair. Lots of proportions changed as well… Lots. She grinned, pushed the glasses up her nose, and nodded. “Like so?”
She looked up, her gaze naturally following the woman's curvature. She would've said yes, if her jaw was still hinged. She was a /lot/ prettier than that picture, for sure.
Hands rested on her hips and her smile practically melted the snow around them. What she might possibly lack in physical charisma, her confidence more than doubled it. She poked Callie’s nose with a long, red fingernail and smirked. “Callie, you’re staring.”
That'd just about do it. Stumbling back, she'd say one too many times, "Right right right right right right. S-sorry, I didn't mean- I mean, you look, err, very, erm. Pretty. Yes. Pretty. S-so, then I'll meet you, uh, n-north of here? At the end of the week?"
“Right, end of the week.” She smiled and watched Callie for a long moment, before lifting a finger to continue. “What are you doing out here anyways?”
"O-oh. Uhh." she brought her hands up to her pack, pulling the top flap open, and rustling beneath the bracelet and scroll. "I uhh, I use this Mechanical Yeti I bought as an alarm clock, and it broke, and the creator lives out here. S-so she fixes it for me, if I uh... moonfire it." She says with a deeper blush.
Genise tittered and gave a quick nod of her head. “I know how that goes with alarms. Next time, you should try Isi Underhill out of Darkshire, or one of the Stormrunner sisters. All three are excellent machinists.”
"I, I see. I'll try that." She said, bringing her gaze back to the woman. It got stuck again, just below the neck. When she popped it out herself, she backed away two steps at the same time. "Th-then, then I'll get this to, to uhh, the Silver Feather, and Annalea. They'll get the update."
“Right, thank you, very much, Callie.” She smiles, waves her fingers, and in a quick poof, was a shorter, more slender elf once again.
She nodded, smiling. "N-no problem, Miss Crownsilver. It's the least I can do for a kidnapping victim. I... I uhh, I'll see you at the end of the week."
“At Frostsaber Rock,” she responded and waved, turning to walk away, and fading into thin air - invisibility be damned, she had no intentions of being followed.
Callie would smile a bit to herself as she turned, on her way back to the Gryphonmaster at Everlook, already forgetting about the alarm clock, in pursuit of her mission.
The criminal was waiting at the tradesman's entrance in the back this time, in a sober doublet and leggings so faded as to be colorless, with a thick leather satchel tucked under his arm. Baldrick ushered him in, mumbling some vagaries about delivery, and then seized him by one skinny arm when they were inside. "Are you fucking daft? It's broad fucking daylight! Lady Megara is in the Earl's study right now!"
ap Danwyrith was staring at his hand with a peculiar intensity, but he lifted his eyes and let his narrow face relax into an amiable smile. "So she is, mate. An' if she wis ta walk down thon staircase right now an' out the tradesman's fir some reason -"
"She'd see you." Baldrick tightened his grip. He'd known this was a mistake.
"She'd see some lowbern laborer, deliv'rin a package. Lordlings dinna look closer at the likes ay us'n they need, auld boy." He looked at the hand on his arm again. "Might 'rouse some ay the auld beldame's suspicions she sees us bein' so 'ffectionate, but. Yeh care ta gie back my arm?" The guardsman released him, reluctantly, and Tarquin placed his satchel on the ground and rubbed at his upper arm morosely. "Got a grip, awright, mate. Less ache if I jus' show up in the receivin' again."
"Be quiet." Baldrick peered around the corner, glowering, then tapped him on the chest. "Stay right bloody here and don't talk." He walked back to the rear door, where the two guardsmen were carrying on a desultory argument over whether Lord Seamus's betrothed had that red hair below the top of her head. "Hallet, out front to the garden. I'm relieving you. Come in, and tell me when her Ladyship leaves." He turned to the younger man. "Kern, the man out here doesn't fucking speak. If you hear him speak, you imagined it and you do not reply. Right?" Kern nodded, and Hallet hustled upstairs with a frown at the criminal. All of Lord Seamus's guardsmen, even their hard-bittedn sergeant-at-arms Emory, knew better than to question Baldrick.
He took ap Danwyrith outside and spent the next several minutes resolutely ignoring the man's occasional conversational gambits; at one point, he had to give Kern a hard stare to keep him from replying to Tarquin's musings. "Wonder if yir Laird Seamus's seen the paintin'? Yeh ken, the nude Geny had done few years back...maun be mair forthcomin' wi' the ransom if he wis certain ay the glories awaited." When Kern swallowed and stared straight ahead, the northman just winked at Baldrick and lit a cigarette that had seemingly just appeared in his hand.
Hallet finally came back down the hall to that Lady Megara's had departed and the Earl had retired to his chambers, and Baldrick immediately growled for the criminal to put out his smoke and follow. He tromped upstairs, Tarquin ambling in his wake. On the turn of the staircase he had to pause for a moment when he saw the man - shuffling along with his arms swinging apishly and his head lowered, his eyes dull and his breath panting hoarsely through his mouth. Baldrick had to admit, the Earl's mother would likely have made no connection between this lanky, scruffy dogsbody and the crimelord that was one of the Daily's favorite men of straw. If he had half the influence that rag credits him, he wouldn't need our help to get the wench back.
Lord Seamus was brooding at his desk, a generous glass of brandy in front of him. He smiled wearily when Baldrick came in, and then the smile dropped off his face and died a quiet and miserable death at his feet when Tarquin followed him in. "You."
The criminal made as if to seat himself, then thought better of it. "Guilty, m'laird. Understand yeh'd a visit fra' yir ma? Doin' well, I shid hope?"
"Oh, spare me. You don't care a shit how she is." The Earl wrapped his fingers around his brandy, but did not drink. "We agreed on a certain level of honesty, and if I were you I would take that to include the avoidance of any false pretenses to concern about my family's well-being as anything other than a means to an end."
"S'a mouthful, mate, when yeh could ay jus' said 'Shut it, arsehole.'" Tarquin occupied an empty chair with his satchel instead of his arse. "I'll lay a wager, then, that her visit dinna bode fav'rable fir air enterprise."
Seamus shut his eyes, no doubt wishing for a cool cloth, a dark room, and a few hours of peace. "My lady mother considers that if Genise Crownsilver made her name as a hero and adventurer, her own skills ought to be sufficient to free her from bondage. The family's coin is best spent elsewhere."
Tarquin folded his arms and squinted down the length of his nose at the Earl, his faint smile trembling at the edges. "She's cuttin' yeh off, then."
"I have my own resources, as you're well aware." Seamus straightened in his seat. "Mirror Lake is not without its incomes."
"Until yir lady mother decides thit yeh kinna be trusted wi' thim oan account ay yir skirt-chasin', yeh mean?" The criminal leaned down. "We had a fuckin' deal, Esterton, an' na part ay thit deal involved leavin' Geny ta twist in the wind cos' yir ma felt like givin' yeh a spankin'!" Baldrick stepped up and dropped a heavy and on his shoulder, and his head whiplashed to the right. "S'a matter, mate? Yeh here ta protect the young laird fra' the truth too?"
Baldrick's hand tightened. "Shall I escort the dogfucker off the premises, m'lord? Nice convenient window."
Seamus's lips had pressed themselves into a thin white line, and he shoved his brandy away. "I will remind you, Master ap Danwyrith, that when we opened...negotiations, I made it clear that my family's investment in your little scheme -"
"- wis no' a condition yeh could guarantee right off. Well understood." Tarquin raised his hands and straightened slightly. "An' shid I need ta get refund oan my half ay the ransom thus far delivered, an' undertake m'ain methods ay dealin' with it, I'll call it a fair cop. But Geny, make na mistake, will remember wha' got her outay this."
"I have no doubt of that, sir," Lord Seamus said with a touch of petulance. Before he could go on, Tarquin raised a finger.
"If we get her outay this." His venomous smile slipped, and Baldrick was a bit amazed to see naked fear on the man's lupine features. "Yeh think I'd be dealin' wi' nobs if this wis an easy make? Geny is in fuckin' trouble, Esterton, an' my Riders have turned up sweet fuck-all oan gettin' her out ay it. This Shado cunt, where his letters're comin' fra' - even the night she vanished, no punter at the Feather heard nor saw anythin'!" He pulled away from Baldrick's hand and glared at the wall, his hand moving to the spot on his waist where a belt knife might hang. "We need ta keep the fucker happy while my people hunt. Else..."
He didn't bother finishing the sentence. Silence hung in the room, Baldrick looking uneasily at his liege. If it was a performance, it was a hell of a one - and Baldrick knew well enough how the Wildfire Riders were reputed to treat threats to their own. Seamus, for his part, sat stock-still for a long moment and then cleared his throat. "I have an idea, Master ap Danwyrith. With regards to the flow of income for our project."
Tarquin didn't turn around. "Is it thit wir fucked?"
“My mother holds you in contempt, you’re well aware. But she’s worked with those she despises more in the past. She is not a woman of…strong personal feeling.” Tarquin turned then, studying Seamus’s troubled face as the young lord continued speaking. “It’s not her own contempt for you that motivates her in this, but public opinion. House Esterton cannot be seen or thought to associate with your guild while your reputation is so, ah, controversial.”
“Ought we aim, then, fir ta win the love ay the commons an’ honor ‘mong the nobs?” Despite his sneer, there was a glimmer of interest in ap Danwyrith’s eyes, or so Baldrick thought. "Some years too late fir thit, my lad."
Seamus gathered himself and stared coolly at the northman. "I am not your lad, and nor am I a fool. You can never make the people love you - at least, not the ones that matter. But I've no doubt that you can make them hate my mother." It took all of Baldrick's training, all his faith in the man he'd known from a boy, to keep him from crying out or simply shoving the murderer out the door and putting an end to this. "She'll not release a copper of the family incomes as long as it's seen to be helping your Riders. But if these expenses were to be seen as proof of just the opposite -"
Tarquin broke in. "She'd be right gen'rous. Ayeh, I see it. Take the public fir a wee song an' dance an' gie thim the thought thit Esterton stinginess wis 'zackly what th'auld villainous Wildfire Riders wis countin' upon." He smiled slowly. "Yir a right canny bastard when yeh care ta be, aren't yeh, mate?"
"I don't intend to see us fail, Master ap Danwyrith. I told you that. This lies within your powers then?"
Just like that, the swagger was back, as if he'd never had a doubt of Genise's survival. "I could serve this city piss by the bucket, an' ha' thim demandin' I share mair ay my fine wines. I'll ha' it sorted - yeh jus' collect the money when yir ma' comes callin' ta buy back her reputation." He turned for the door, falling back into his apish slouch. "B'lieve I'll shew masel' out. Read the papers, ay?" He ambled out, Baldrick not even bothering to follow. He didn't see how the man could cause any more damage than he had already. Lord Seamus took a swig of his nearly forgotten brandy and smiled with satisfaction.
"Well, Baldrick? Not bad, hm?"
The big soldier chose his words with care. "A clever plan, Earl. But...do you really mean to go against Her Ladyship so openly?"
"I'm not having you stab her men in the streets, Baldrick," Esterton said with unseemly good humor. "This is exactly how she's always manipulated my brothers and I, to say nothing of Father. Let's see how she likes the taste of it." He rose from his seat, his smile blossoming further, a nervous energy flowing through his whole frame. "It's time to leave the nest, Baldrick. That old woman's held the reins for long enough."
Reins, and a nest? "If you think it best, Lord Seamus."
"I certainly do!" he fairly crowed, slapping the desktop. "You heard that murdering thug - the people will never have him. I'll toss him a pittance, and he'll get me Genise, and she'll get me out of this bloody silk cage. This is the season, Baldrick." Seamus strolled over and slung his arm up around his bodyguard's shoulders, smiling. "And I am the man of the hour."
Now hang me by this golden noose
'Cause I never been nothin' but your golden goose
Silver tongue don't fail me now
And I'll make my way back to you somehow
Connections and Fabrications in the Crownsilver Caper
by Neddard R. Marrow, Special Investigation Reporter
Despite The Alliance's, specifically the collective human nations, progress, there are those individuals who hold an antiquated view of the world: That the circumstances of one's birth determines their entire lifespan. These dull voices call out our King as proof of this belief: That only one of Truly Noble Birth could have suffered and thrived through the indignities of slavery and gladiatorial combat. These voices ignore how our King's innate talents were honed by years of practice and excellent tutors, some of whom were even born "common." The loudest of these voices, the Old Houses of Stormwind, continue to claim that only those of proper breeding can be leaders or heroes.
Of these loud voices, the shrillest happens to be rocked by a scandal not uncommon to those of "proper" breeding, kidnapping. The heir to House Esterton, his Lordship Seamus Esterton, had recently proposed, only to find his new fiancee stolen from him in the middle of the night by parties unknown. While they have released demands for ransom, House Esterton has not paid a single copper for her return. Such events are not unheard of in the landed gentry. What makes this particular episode particularly upsetting is who his Lordship chose as his fiancee. Lady Genise Crownsilver, the much loved Sorceress of Elwynn.
Lady Crownsilver earned her title. She is a lady of modest birth but immeasurable potential. She is at once an entrepreneur, a diplomat and a scholar of the highest caliber. She has protected the "dirt people" from the Defias, thwarted draconic conspiracies against our Alliance and gone on to the frozen wastes of Northrend to bring this generation's most foul villain to justice. To his credit, Lord Seamus recognized Lady Crownsilver's ability, not just her famed beauty. This raises the question: What sort of villain is powerful enough to kidnap Crownsilver, a woman who dealt with demonic forces from beyond the Dark Portal, and keep her hidden from the eyes of the Watch and SI:7?
That Lady Crownsilver is missing is not in question. Lady Crownsilver is an attentive mother, and to leave her daughter in the care of well meaning nannies and students would not be consistent with her parenting style. This reporter was concerned with the question of whether Lady Crownsilver was still alive.
According to an anonymous source close to the investigation, they know that Genise is still alive. While this reporter is loathe to use anonymous sources, both the watch and SI:7 have refused repeated attempts to answer questions about the nature of this investigation. Medb Diarmada, the only employee of SI:7 to go on record, stated, "At the request of the family, we have not begun an investigation into the whereabouts of Lady Crownsilver." At first glance, this appears to be a cover story consistent with the ransom demands; however, the same anonymous source showed this reporter internal documents requesting a hold on the investigation by House Esterton.
Are the Estertons holding this investigation back in order to liquidate funds and pay for her safe return or are they stalling for time? Neither Lord Seamus nor Lady Megara would comment on this case to this reporter. In the course of this investigation, this reporter has discovered that Lady Megara has paid a number of women of lower-station to "disappear" after being associated with her son. Bank records, obtained through the Steamwheedle Banking Cartel, show the sum of five hundred crowns transfered to Majella Willock after she was seen with Seamus at Galahad (ed note: Reported on in this very paper!). Samantha Dwyther was paid a total of one thousand crowns by the Esterton Estate after she suggested that she would soon be married to "Lord Seamus Esterton."
The list goes on and on. Women who received money from Esterton's estate after being associated with Lord Seamus. Lady Megara has paid "ransom" before, even if that "ransom" was simply hush money. Lady Cronwnsilver has no use of the gentry's money. That does not mean she is beyond the reach of the gentry, especially gentry that has the funds to hire mercenaries.
Shortly after the kidnapping was discovered, Tarquin ap Danwyrith was seen entering and leaving the Esterton estate. Lady Crownsilver's connection to the mercenary band known as the Wildfire Riders is well documented. The Wildfire Riders' love of gold is also well documented. This mercenary band, whose known members have been associated with deeds both heroic and villainous, should also be able to find Lady Crownsilver. As of press time, the Wildfire Riders did not respond to this reporter's questions about their own investigation. This reporter has to question the loyalty of individuals who services can be bought, sold and traded like a commodity in the Trade District. While this is simple conjecture, the same anonymous source who provided this reporter with the documents has suggested that the Wildfire Riders are directly involved with Lady Crownsilver's disappearance.
The strange disappearance Lady Crownsilver grows stranger with each passing day. Connections, both real and supposed, only lead to additional questions regarding motives, accomplices and methods. Yet when the shrill voices of the gentry grow silent regarding the disappearance of one of Elwynn's most humble of heroes, we must turn our attention to those whose silence is the most damning.
This is Neddard R. Marrow. Good night and Good Luck.
