Session 31 - Job Opportunities

Previously, across the Horizon...
Orrey's sister has switched sides.
While some members of the crew have done their best to soften that blow, the fact remains that Cassiat Alyon is a member of the Seventh Dawn's crew, and that ship is devoted to the location and subsequent removal of the fallen stars, twelve constellations of twelve stars each, stars that could be any number of types of creatures, but at the very least count Cinnabar among their number.
Doctor Cid was unsuccessful in luring Linnet onto the ship as well, but the dinner didn't end in violence, despite Yves's passionate outburst and unshakeable conviction (though physically, there may have been some shaking).
That night, the Seventh Dawn departed the Triad.
The next morning, after word from the telegraph office, the Starfall did as well.
A course was plotted to the land of the party's birth, the gently rolling hills of Caerwyn, and what Isa assured them would be their first official paying job, the sort of thing that would put non-noodle food in the kitchen and weapons that weren't just Bast throwing grenades over the deck railings.
We join our heroes as the Starfall streaks through the late afternoon sky...
**
"Look, there's no room to mount a grenade launcher in here, now shoo." Linnet waves a head of cabbage at Bast and Yves and makes throwing gestures. "I don't care if the potato trick has worked before, I guarantee our enemies have read the same history books you have. Besides, those potatoes are dinner. Now beat it." (She's grinning, though.)
Jasper meanders through the conversation, picking up an apple from the stack and taking a bite. "I've found plenty of places for us to mount cannons, and honestly, a small one in the kitchen would be good in case we're boarded," he mumbles around a mouthful.
Yves ducks, in case of Sudden Cabbage. And finding none /actually/ thrown, says, "I was thinking of some interesting chemical sprays, but then I remembered that a weapon that's dependent on the weather can be a real liability when living in the, uh, sky."
"...right." Bast sweeps the parts into a sack and pokes his head outside. "Shula! Have I talked to you about a workshop yet? I have tools again!"
"...fine, but make it small, and make it a flechette type. If we get to the point where I'm firing a cannon out the kitchen window, I want silverware in there, not potatoes," Linnet orders.
"Better to supply an arms locker and make sure the crew is suitably trained." Isa leans against the doorjamb. "Small arms and large shields."
"That sounds like the start of a plan..." Linnet watches Isa expectantly, hefting a potato in absentminded thought.
Isa's look to Linnet could stop the ship in midair.
Shula looks up from the counter, where she's currently failing to cook. "You have!" she replies to Bast. "We're all very excited!"
"I knew someone who slept with a knife-thrower under his pillow," Yves volunteers. He looks a bit distant for a while. "Yeah, don't do that, especially if any of your favorite drugs are hallucinogenics."
Linnet puts the potato back down. "Isa, did we ever decide on an official shipboard title for you here? Because I feel like I need something more formal for Serious Strategic Talk."
"Hall Monitor," Rahel calls from the sink, up to her elbows in scrubbing last night's plates.
"Mom," Orrey says.
"Oh fuck no."
"Commander?" Linnet tries.
"That's M.O.M. Master of Martial Things. The 'T' is silent." Orrey grins at Isa.
"Does Commander outrank Captain? We don't want a mutiny," Rahel says, before switching the sponge out for fingernails.
"I'll consent to Tactical Officer, if we're going to do this," Isa says.
"Tactical Officer Osler, then! You sound like you have a plan to propose. Let's hear it." Linnet is still listening while peeling potatoes.
"Seems a little...straightforward. Not quite boring..." Orrey muses. "How about Strike Leader?"
"Who are we striking against?" Yves asks.
"Dragoon Prime?" Bast's raised eyebrows are doing most of the commentary.
The talking tube by the door crackles for a moment. "Captain Bast, we are nearing our destination," Marina's voice rings out. "Ground party, report to the bridge."
"And that's our cue. Come on, Tactical Leader Mom and company." Bast shoulders the sack and heads to the bridge.
Linnet hands off the potato peeler to one of the Hive and floats after Bast.
Isa sets her mug down, and heads bridgeward.
Marina is slouching in the pilot's chair as they arrive, already bored of how smooth and simple the flights have been so far. "We're coming up on the location of the Menard estate, Captain," she says to Bast as he enters. "Ground party just you five, or is everyone getting out? No dock, just a simple little train station, so we'll grab a field nearby."
"Your call, Isa. Who will we need on the ground?"
"Not expecting to need more than us. I'd go by myself but the cards in the suggestion box say I need to be more open about my life."
The Starfall banks gently to starboard, Marina grumbling about lost balloons. "Rest of us stay with the ship, or free to roam about the country?" she asks. "I don't intend to leave the ship if we're not at a formal dock, but I've heard grumblings about the Captain's overly restrictive shore leave policies."
"Shore leave's fine here, the Triad was a special case. Keep a skeleton crew on the ship while we're away."
The Starfall sends out one more shipwide message about landing, and five minutes later, you feel the slightest of lurches as the massive airship settles onto a clear patch of grass just outside of yet another idyllic little village. "Welcome to the Kinneas Station," Marina says, both to the tube and to the rest of the people on the bridge. "Mind your party favors."
A little red balloon drifts by one of the tree branches visible through the window.
Isa looks at Yves, and squares her shoulders. "Here we go again," she says to the viera, cryptically.
"Aww, what a cute little balloon!" Linnet coos.
Bast, now minus a sack and resupplied with grenades, gives Isa a quizzical look. "Trouble?"
Isa shakes her head. "This is where we were when you were...dealing with the Vallis estate. Speaking of which, there's a weaponsmith named Artemicion with a smithy here; possibly worth talking to."
Yves simply stares out the window, grimly prepared.
Twenty minutes later...
...Yves has two balloons.
Kinneas Station is exactly how Isa and Yves left it, weeks ago; full of cheer, beer, and enough joy and jubilation to last ten years.
"Please," Isa mutters, "by all the Twelve, let this be a different party."
Strings of lights run from building to building, sparking to life to shine their festive white lights on the tables below, children of all creeds handing out flowers and balloons to anyone who happens to be nearby.
Yves has attempted to give his balloon(s) away to multiple small children. Somehow, this never results in him having fewer balloons.
The party has already had to drag Linnet away from three separate group dances.
A set of orchestra risers is holding a fifteen-piece band, jauntily serenading anyone fortunate enough to be in range. The smells are delightful, the sounds are inescapable, and the crew that has wandered along with you is already having the times of their lives.
Isa is leading the group on the most direct path possible towards the Ménard estate, which is unfortunately not a straight path.
The Ménard estate twists and turns in the opposite direction from the Cassida estate from their earlier visit; whether it is purposefully far enough back from the constant partying or that was just a happy accident, hard to say.
Yves has somehow acquired three balloons. Two of them are black. Even he looks confused by this.
There is no guard by the gates to the Ménard land, but there is a gardener, a gray tonberry with six different kinds of shears hanging off his belt, currently holding their lantern up to peer closer at a ladybug on a flower. They look up at someone approaching, scratch their chin, and meander over. "Good day! Are you expected?" The ladybug lands on their lantern.
Isa nods, politely. "Isaline Osler, for Lady Justine. We're expected."
"My goodness, I've never seen snapwyverns this color! How lovely!" Linnet exclaims. (It is fulsome and heartily meant praise, for new colors of flowers are no mean feat!)
"Oh, Miss Osler! Yes, yes, of course. Please, come with -- rather, go on ahead. You all seem a good deal faster than I would be. Follow this path up, walk around to the east side of the estate, Lady Justine receives her business in the observatory." Any further directions are interrupted by a great deal of preening at gardening praise.
(Eventually, though, Linnet promises to keep his methods a secret and follows the rest of the group into the observatory.)
Isa nods her thanks, and leads the way with a familiarity that makes it clear it's not her first time here.
Yves is staying very very very quiet. He is wary of estates on principle these days.
"How did you come to be employed by the Lady Justine, Isa?" Orrey asks, curious eyes taking in all the gardens and the estate.
"Employed? I spent the winter season here two years ago," she explains. "Much warmer than Cardia, and it was the year my sister started entertaining suitors so it was...suggested I not draw any attention."
The observatory is just as colorful as the gardens surrounding it, the circular building painted to resemble the sky at sunset, a rather fine telescope extending up to the northern skies. The Cardian-style doors are both open, inviting all visitors, humanoid and insectoid varieties alike, to come inside.
Yves raises an eyebrow. Lowers it again. He's keeping his hands in his pockets, too.
"Oh, so this isn't a business contact we're meeting? She's a...friend? Family?" Orrey asks.
The room they enter into is designed for entertaining visitors with a side of intimidation, with paintings and weapons alike adorning the walls, of equal craftsmanship.
"Somewhere between the two," Isa allows.
Bast tears himself away from appraising the estate around them at Isa's comment. "Seems like a decent enough place for an...exile?" There's a half-grin behind that last.
Orrey inspects the paintings, noting their style and potentially the artist...
Isa's practiced eye finds a particular vertical stretch of blank wall, a plaque with a familiar inscription pattern detailing something no longer there.
Most of the paintings are by a Decimus Oannes, who specializes in ships on the open sea. A bit heavy on the details, and one of the ships always looks to be in some sort of self-inflicted distress.
Isa chuckles a bit at the deliberate absence, and looks at Bast. "Hm? I might have thought to ask if she was taking on for her company, but I had to take the train to get down here, and we know how that went."
The door into the central room opens, telescope briefly visible through it, and a woman steps through.
She stands just over six feet tall, light brown skin and long maroon hair, tied back in what must be the Dravanor Academy Long Braid. Her attire is casual for someone who's never had to dress casually, finely-tailored pants, riding boots, and a dark brocade jacket. At some point in the recent past, she received a scar over her left eye, bisecting her eyebrow but sparing the eye itself. Today the scar is embellished and accented with green and purple eyeshadow, swooping up into an elaborate feathered wing off of her left eye and sweeping around toward her temple.
And then she smiles, broadly and warmly. "Isaline, it has been far too long."
Isa meets the smile to the exact degree, warm and open and entirely alien to see on her face. "Justine," she replies brightly, and in three long-legged steps crosses the distance to...hug the other woman. "It has been. The bastards finally got me."
Orrey's head tilts a little sideways and he raises an eyebrow, then shrugs and settles in.
Both Yves' eyebrows go up. He works them back into place.
The hug is returned, fierce and strong. "The news reached here as well, as you would expect. How are you?" she asks, drawing Isa back and holding her by both shoulders, looking at her closely. "I expected I would see you before now, to be perfectly honest."
(Linnet is hovering by the door attempting to be invisible, but she's entranced by Justine's eyeshadow.)
"Yeah, that's at least three drinks' worth of story," Isa says, before she turns and sweeps an arm across the other four. "This is the senior crew of Starfall." Indicating each in turn, "Bast, my new captain. Yves, Linnet, and Orrey." Still smiling, ignoring raised eyebrows, "This is Justine Ménard, captain of Resplendent."
"Delighted," Justine says, the picture of refined grace as she greets each of them individually. "Welcome to my home. Any friend of Isaline's is an honored guest."
"Absolutely charmed. And may I say, fierce job with the eye makeup. Gale's teeth, that is awesome," Linnet says.
"A pleasure, ma'am." Bast, unsure about the etiquette here, offers a handshake. "We have been fortunate to have Isaline with us."
"So. Drinks now, or business and then three-drink stories?" Linnet looks questioningly at Isa, then at Bast, then back to Isa.
"Business first," Justine says. "I find that it spoils the wine to be thinking of work." She gestures to the chairs, but remains standing herself. "The message I received... bounties?"

FLASHBACK ---

Isa and Bast are alone in the conference room on Starfall, as Isa explains their destination. "She's got a reputation to maintain, and that means not bothering with small-time contracts. Pretty sure she'll be happy to pass the ones beneath her notice down to us if we ask nicely. Question is, do you want me to do the talking when it comes down to it, or do you want to go captain-to-captain?"
"Whatever works." Bast looks at Isa, thinking. "This would be a solid start for us. You know her best. What would she look for, when someone comes hat in hand asking for favors?"
"She went into pirate-hunting because she thought it'd be fun. Caerwyn, eh?"
"Hah. So - Captain in Charge, or have the one person she knows on the crew sell her on this?"
"But she's also Academy-trained, so there's a right way of doing things. I think it should be you; be appreciative and be frank and we'll be alright. If I need to shore you up, I will. But it's not like we're having Yves talk to her."
"...right, yes, it could always be worse." Bast looks mildly horrified.
Isa nods, and sips from her mug.

END FLASHBACK ---

"To business, then." Bast nods appreciatively. "Isa may have given you some details already; the short version is that we have a new ship, a fresh crew, and some funds to keep both of them going but no long-term work so far. Her idea about the bounties seems to have merit; if there's work that's not worth your time, it would probably be about right for our company as things stand."
Justine walks in front of a pair of crossed swords, a painting of a ship being rebuilt in a dusky harbor, and an obsidian-studded club. "There are jobs that have been sent to me, hoping that I would accept them if I had the time. The benefit of these would be that you would not be competing against anyone else at this time. The danger is that you would be doing this carrying my reputation with you.
"I have three opportunities currently that do not warrant my own personal attention. I can extend you first choice of those three, with the understanding that upon completion, you return here. No finder's fee, no share or anything of the sort. If the job goes well, you report it, I give you my blessing and public recommendation, and you can begin making a name for yourselves."
"Sensible. Would we be working together after, then, or is it more that some will see it that way regardless?"
"There are two ways to make yourselves known right away in this game. One is to know someone who can promote and support you. The other is to do something so reckless, so dangerous, and so impossible that all the world can do is mutter your name in awe." She smiles with no small amount of self-satisfaction. "One way is more fun, yet the success rate is terribly low."
"That's going to have to wait for the drinks," Isa says.
"I think we might be a touch underequipped for the fun way yet." Bast's smile widens slowly. "There's the story of how we got the ship, but that can wait for the drinks."
Linnet and Yves just look at each other, two entirely different unreadable expressions.
"Your choices of bounties, then," Justine says, nodding at the wisdom on display.
"A pair of airships fly the approach to Machanon, disrupting trade between the Triad and the religious sort," she says, not dismissively. "The pilots call themselves the Kings of Pain, though what they visit upon their targets is more monologuing than manslaughter. Valuables and the like relieved, of course, but they seem to favor the sounds of their own voices more than they do their body count. Fortunate for those waylaid, less so for the Resplendent's time. Thirty-four thousand gil."
Yves looks as if he's about to comment. Thinks better of it.
"Some distance north of that, closer to Cardia -- Isaline, the Three Sisters -- there is tell of a demon sinking ships through those islands. No rhyme, no reason, just mayhem and mass destruction. We are coming into the storm season, so the thought is that it's merely a matter of an early start to the inclement weather, but two sailors surviving two separate ships have each said the same name -- Diabolos. Chasing shadows pays poorly. Nineteen thousand is all that has been set for that."
"The third? Pirates." She cannot help but smile. "A wooden airship flying a skull and crossbones, cannons and cutlasses, white sails and preening parrots. Isaline, the shame those captains tried to hide... The Revival, this one is called, apparently aiming to restore piracy to its golden age. Forty-one thousand, for while it seems for all the world like battling a museum piece, they have proven themselves quite competent.
"Those are the three. You have the remainder of the day to select yours, and that is because you are all staying as my guests and I will not hear a word against it. You and your crew."
Yves looks.... concerned.
"All of them? I should warn you Justine, they're...theatrical."
"Isaline, I live outside of a permanent mummer's convention. Besides," she says with a smile, "I am excited to learn more about your friends."
Linnet fails to entirely suppress a giggle.
Isa laughs, earnestly. "Then it is definitely time for the drinks."
End session.